Good Gods it was cold. The worn golden reaches his leafen starred head around to pull at the white fur hide hung around his neck. That wolf hide was proving to be invaluable as the gold stumbled through the snow, star lite forest. It had been worth the journey back into the frozen valley of the Basin to retrieve it. The weather though, was the least of his problems.

It first begins to show in his step. Haunty, and slow. The golden avoids putting great pressure on his front hooves, at times stumbling over them slightly. They seem swollen, and they are, for behind the hoof wall in more tender places blisters have formed. The gold reaches back and pulls at his cloak again, revealing thin outlines of ribs. Though the winter was harsh, the gold had lost too much weight to look as this. There, lined on his lips is the reason, blisters ferment there as well. It’s a sickening display but its not the worst. Twin horns shake, trying to get loose of something we can not see. But he can, more so, he can hear it. Buzzing. Constant, unrelenting buzzing of flies. Pinning those delicate ears back the gold in a sudden fit of anger reaches back and nips his own shoulder. There is the other hell. Bumps cover his skin both on his shoulders and hips. Skin is welped from biting, and his tassled tails slapping it. Nothing can be seen to cause such agony though, only a light black smoke. Oh but it was flies! Gah! Head reaches back to pull at his own flesh again, before falling low in misery. All because of that damned fruit. Shit, he hadn’t even eaten the damn thing!

Moaning low the gold continues to trudge on his way. He should be sleeping, letting this illness break whatever part of him it wanted. But he needed to return to the Throat, even in this condition. At least there he would not freeze to death in the sands, and would find more tender grasses for his blistered mouth. Those had been his reasons, but now it came down to a death walk of a zombie, tired and battered. So when he saw through his narrow vision blood upon the snow, he figured it had to be his own.

No…there was too much of it. Stopping the gold reaches back to nip his shoulder. Looking up at last he finds himself at a folk in the road. Before him a sign, and strange symbols etched on its surface. Dull eyes grew to confusion as they awoke to time and place. Looking down again the gold saw the gore, but no tracks. He was completely and utterly alone, and for once, didn’t like it. Earth eyes narrow, then close as he shakes his head free of the flies that were never there. Then a piece of paper with the same written on it, but added to. Studying this the gold’s tail hits his sides with fury. Thinking he had its meaning worked out the gold reaches back to nip his shoulder before looking left and right. Whoever wrote this had not finished, had they been in the middle of it themselves? But they were bloodied. Who’s blood, and by who’s hand was it shed? The other direction would more than likely be empty and without whatever blood lover wrote the lines. With another slap of his tail the gold trudges to the left. If there was some bloodied creature there, well then, misery loves company.

OOC:: Figures out the puzzle and wanting some miserable company Thran goes LEFT.
He is suffering from the fruit/fly crazy shit from:: Here and due to fun timeline stuff, is on stage two here.
WISHLIST


:: [Magic: Dark | Can change shape into completely new character designs.]
::[Restrictions | Lasts only two posts in battle]
No prior refusals.