| Up For Adoption atk: 4.5 | def: 6.5 | dam: 3.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 4 HP: 54 | Buff: NOVICE |
|
Arwydd :: Raven :: None
Adoptable |
so make me your deadman, with only poison in my veins,
stuck in your wonderland,
stagnated by the passivity, I'm gonna make you b l e e d like me;
The night was cold and clear, the kind of chilly autumn eve where the stars seemed to burn in the sky and the first frost caused both grass and trees alike to glitter like crushed glass. It got colder the higher up you went; perhaps there was little surprise in finding the most biting of breezes to drift among the trees of the floating island. Most of the creatures - of which the majority surely had to be both strange and mysterious to inhabit such an otherworldly place - had tuckered in with the exception of the nocturnal ones. Their passage through the bramble and brush was a quiet one however, stealthy paws and silky wings too accustomed to trails and pathways to disturb any who might rest among the tents of the strange city.
Having learned from previous experience that it was best for him to stay away from the cloth structures, a certain black-skinned heathen had settled down in a clearing for the night. Injured and sick he had spent most of the day in stillness, keeping close to both grazing and water despite holding little desire for either; the simple knowledge that it was there for him to partake in if he so needed made him feel better. Truly, the usually so impressive stag didn't look half as intimidating as he usually did. The heavy mask had been cast aside and lay by the hooves of the beast, retrieved from a sandy beach before limping away from the battlefield but never returned back onto the chiseled face; raw blisters marred the handsome features, sore and sensitive and too painful to be subjected to the constant chafing of cold bone. It was enough of a struggle to stand as it was; each of the legs were badly burned, both belly and tail scalded enough that he suspected it would leave scars unless he found a healer soon.
But who would aid a no name outcast who couldn't curb his tongue or swallow pride long enough to ask for help?
And so Morir left the matter of life and death to fate and simply tried to endure, finally managing to get some rest after hour upon hour of agony.
@[Thranduil] Thought we could write out the stealth? ;D since it's an amusing situation and all, and I want to play ~
 chaoticmelodies & larfsalot @deviantart | subtlepatterns.com
♦ Please tag Morir in all replies!
| Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE |
|
Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist
Hawk |
09-06-2014, 09:50 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-06-2014, 09:51 PM by Thranduil.)
Vanilla locks shake loose from their place as the cloud comes to rest alongside the floating isle. Weary sigh settles on the isle of peace as the golden steps onto the soft turf. The last few days had been anything but calm, and in truth the golden was still not recovered. Soul was settling back down into the blackness where it belonged, but it was not quietly put to rest. So the golden found himself wandering. The cool slip of night had led the worn creature here, to where one of the last cool, worry free nights had been spent.
Time was all it needed, time and perhaps a small lie or two to mend his pride. At least his wounds were healed, and the future down below, seemed to be coming together. Soon he would be in the Throat doing as he did best, spreading lies, gathering an inner strength. For now though, rest. Rest and peace…
Or perhaps not. A black figure stands, or tries. Laced back was bowed, while the usually ivory crowned head was low and dark. The black flesh was blistered and warped, even from here the golden could smell the singed hair and flesh. It was not all together agreeable, but the justice helped it go down. The blind brute was no fool, even that sly golden man could not escape unnoticed. If they’re going to pin you down, might as well, strike a pose. Smug at being better healed that that creature the golden wanders up dangerously close to the black creature and stops.
Silence continues as the golden stretches it out in satisfaction at seeing his advisory so much worse for wear. Still, he hadn’t gone through his own hell hole without a lesson or two. Not that the golden would ever admit to being taught a lesson. Oh no, he learned these himself. Learned to be cautious of a quick tongue. Even it could serve wit on a silver tray, not every situation required it. Especially as he once again faced down those long black horns. So instead of commenting on how the black looked, or how he should open his eyes next time before walking on fire, the golden man merely lets it roll out low. “Hello there dear friend.” Oh yes, the black beast may have caused the slow and low day the gold had had, but now he was making up for it. What better pick-me-up than seeing your enemies low and looking like they went through hell, and you not even have to get your hooves dirty.
OOC ::
"speech"
Never was there a faster medicine,
Than seeing your enemy's depression.
![[Image: 5381546acbe33]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5381546acbe33)
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