The beast's call is obeyed quickly, and it causes the inky creature to fold his massive wings back at his side and stand squarely on the loamy, moss covered soil. His head lifted proudly, an arch that was confident in his abilities as he surveyed the two pegasi that came to his beck and call. They were both smaller than him and painted in black, white, and hues of gold. Perhaps they were brothers? Warriors at arms together? His nostrils flared. Surely not, for they smelled completely different. The smaller one held the scent of pine and deep water, whereas the taller one smelled of cracked and dry earth and sweat. The second was a smell all-too familiar to the lone warrior, and he was drawn to it. Taking one step forward as the pegasi spoke to each other, Einarr's tail flicked against his dark hocks.

"Name Einarr." His voice was deep and handsome, but the words seemed strained. It was apparent that he had not used this tongue in quite some time, for the word he had screamed into the wind before their arrival was smooth and easy. "Einarr lajak. Strong army. Serve strong army." His brows furrowed as he listened to the stallions both speak, taking in the taller, desert-smelling one's name. Bucephalus. It was odd, truly, and the dark stallion wondered if it had a deeper meaning. "You have army?" The stallion asked both, red-brown eyes flicking between the two black-white-gold stallions. He was still not entirely convinced they were not brothers.

He knew he was far away from his home, far away from his herd and his family and his life as a warden. In this new land, this warrior would need to fit in to what he knew. He knew warfare and battle, his scarred body a testament to his knowledge and prowess on the field and in the lead. His ears continued to flick upon his head, his eyes narrowed some in a manner of a studious scholar hunkered over a troublesome problem, waiting for the stallions to respond to him--and for the smaller one to give his name. Even with his wings folded at his sides and his cloven hooves planted squarely, Einarr was on alert, ready to spring into action should these brothers-not-brothers turn on him.


[Translation: lajak -- warrior || @[Midas] @[Bucephalus] ]

With his attention so keenly focused on the stallions before him, Einarr had not noticed the companions that perched proudly with the smaller black-white-gold stallion. A flicker of movement caught his attention, however, and he set his scope on them. One was a glorious, fiery bird. Age made the face look wise and experienced, opposite from the beautiful bird of ice that rested near it. The other bird was smaller, younger, more innocent to the world. Einarr had seen only glimpses of creatures like them in battle against smaller bands. The creatures--companions--were strong, the lone warrior knew, but he also knew they did not survive if their master fell in battle. His own king shared a bond--with a companion--but it was not as majestic, as mystical as these animals, no. It was simply a large, aged vulture that hissed at many. It was an unpleasant creature to be around, but these magical avian cousins seemed more tame than the wild beast that shared Einarr's once-king's heart. The warrior knew, in the pit of his stomach, that he likelihood of seeing his king, his family, his army again was smaller than the grains of sand that lined his home. This saddened him, but the warrior did not let his stalemate of a stoic expression fade.

The smaller stallion, laced with companions, spoke little, but gave insight to his army. The man welcomed the dark warrior with open wings, offering a place in his regime. Einarr nodded, listening well, but the words still mixed in translation in his head. He spoke their tongue, but not with the fluency and eloquence that this one did before him. He was a peon, still learning the way to move his tongue. He only knew how to perform these words because of prisoners he had to maintain--gain information from--and one had been kind (if you could call it that from the force it took to break him) enough to teach him. "Hidden Falls." Einarr said the name of this stallion's herd, letting the sound of it roll off his tongue with ease. He would commit it to memory, though he was wary about this land. This stallion--king of this land, the warrior assumed--had yet to give his name. Somewhere deep in the primal stallion's mind something told him not to follow someone who did not have the trust or the confidence to share his name with strangers.

It was when the other black-white-gold stallion spoke that Einarr turned to him, ears moving to listen. Unlike the unnamed, Bucephalus trumpeted praise of his land in many words. Einarr kept up with him, but his brows still furrowed in a strained way. The massive warmblood mutt have no sign, no nod, but simply weighed his options in silence. The Dragon's Throat seemed strong--it held a stronger name, even, than the Hidden Falls, and that intrigued the inky stallion. However, it was the promise of desert that finally captured the stallion's mind and heart. Reddish-brown eyes widened some and he took a step towards Bucephalus. "Dragon's Throat home sound good. Einarr lajak in Dragon's Throat, serve with life." Einarr looked to the other stallion momentarily, tail flicking against strong hocks. "I remember you, Hidden Falls, for peaceful meetings in future." The tallest stallion of the trio nodded his head to the unnamed king and his magical birds, in a slight sign of respect, before moving closer to Bucephalus and stretching his impressive wings.

"You take me to Dragon's Throat."



[Translation: lajak -- warrior. Einarr has chosen the DT! Thanks for threading with me you guys <3 I am going to make a thread in the Throat for Buce to introduce him/accept him. || @[Midas] @[Bucephalus] ]