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HE SAYS "OH BABY GIRL, DON'T GET CUT ON MY EDGES I'M THE KING OF EVERYTHING AND MY TONGUE IS A WEAPON" The weak dawn light glimmers on the robust lines of the mammoth stallion's body, emphasising each hardened contour and bulking muscle. His stride is a flowing trot, his foot-feathers rippling with the steady movement of his hooves and his tail blowing like a war banner in the gentle wind. There is one dragon riding upon the thick weight of his hindquarters; a red, his claws rooted hard into the tight flesh to anchor himself against the rapid rises and falls of his bonded's movement. The gold is hunting between the trees, her presence serenaded by the terrified howls of fleeing prey. The leviathan has his first mission, so to speak. These are precisely the sort of assignments he had expected when he joined a herd, and initially the thought of it had given him pause; what is the point, he'd wondered? What can possibly be gained by marching through lands that he'd covered hundreds of times before during his outcast days? Is it not a waste of time, valuable time that could be spent honing his skills on the battlefield or bolstering the herd's ranks in the Threshold? But after some thought, Volterra's initial resistance had dulled. As Gladiator, this is part of his duty. There could be valuable resources in the Blood Falls that the Throat could use, such as weapons for its warriors or herbs for its healers. It will not take up too much of his time, and he probably needs a small break from sparring anyway whilst his wounds from his previous spate of battles start to heal. It will also prove a valuable opportunity to meet some of his herdmembers and endear himself to them with his activity and willingness to do whatever it takes to aid the Throat. So, with a loud snort, the stallion slows to a walk. This place has fond memories for him; it was here that he had engaged in his first battle against one of the Rift Gods, earning his first scars and his first taste of war. It was also here that he had bedded his first woman, an event that had admittedly launched him onto a path of borderline sex addiction but which had, at the time, been an immense relief. The crimson waterfall and red-hued leaves are sufficiently pleasing upon his discerning eye, and he spent much of his time here when he was an outcast. Flaring his nostrils, he can still detect the distinct reek of his claim upon this land when he'd been younger, and he eyes the tree he'd marked with a small, fond smile. Vérzés adjusts his leathery wings as he rearranges himself on Volterra's back. His multi-horned head peeks around, alert, for signs of his bonded's patrolling-partners, whilst his tail dangles lazily over the stallion's haunches. "Will Hobgoblin-friend be here?" he questions hopefully, a blossom of frost appearing out of his nostrils as he thinks of Sikeax and her rougarou companion. Volterra shakes his massive head, an amused smile flitting across his jaws at his dragon's interest in their new queen. I doubt it. I am sure Sikeax will have assigned me to patrol with people I do not know, in order to form new relationships. Slightly crestfallen, the red gives a small sad sigh before resuming his scanning of the area. Volterra does the same, hunting for any sign of the Throatians he has been asked to patrol with. |
@Maren @Nizho Throat seasonal patrol :D
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
| 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 |
There was, in truth, a very good reason for patrols.
The gold was once again wasting away in some quieter corner of this world. His attention lately grabbed by anything which could be called a distraction, or entertainment. The past few weeks such moods had been….rather dangerous. But today’s was more subtle. Some spark of energy had cause him to rise with some wry mood. A mood to go, look and see. Haldir, felt the change, and he too was ready and willing. For so long they held up in the green maze or kept to the shadows. Some actual exploration was well overdue. So that is how they came here, to this land. He hadn’t looked upon the red dyed world since the war of the gods.
A cold draft blew in from the north and the golden ears fall back into the tuffs of white. It was a warning of what was to come soon enough. Another winter. Snorting the crowned gold pulled at the wolf cloak draped around him. He never was much for cold, and living further south as he was, the heat of the summer had been one of the few enjoyments of the past season. Even Haldir’s coat was already growing thick, and the antlers upon his head were in their final accents before he shed them again for the winter. The stag watched the deer ahead of him and some small curl of his lips is pulled up, to see the deer step with its now natural regal grace through the undergrowth on the small path to the center of this world.
A cry echoes through the trees and both gold and stag stop to listen. Someone was hunting here. The crowned head tilted as it listened, thinking more so if he wanted to be found, rather than any fear. The black cloth was ever protectively pressed against his side in that small satchel. For many moons he had grown used to tossing it over and watching the world as a passive viewer. Yet something was different in today. Some inkling of curiosity was woken. It would most likely die away again soon after, but the gold had been so reserved lately. So hidden. It didn’t quite sit completely with his nature, even given the circumstances. So with Haldir trailing more warily, the gold stepped more boldly forward.
The scent of another grows stronger as he comes to the clearing. ”Seek fight?” Came a wobbled, confused question from the stag. It made the gold pause, what was he after….A distraction, that’s right. Something to interact, possibly toy with…something to give him a feeling he hadn’t in a while (one that he admitted he missed. ”A laugh” Came the reply, and he stepped on forward and finally into the clearing.
Crowned head was high as the earth eyes fell immediately onto the mammoth creature, a literal centerpiece of attention. Gold harks lean forward, and his body is held in its natural regalia. With the golden coat still glimmering from it summer richness, he felt every inch the Laurelin the world should know him as. He was playing though. Nothing more than acting for his own amusement. The drivers, and makers of that actual Laurelin were still lost in a fog within. But if he expected this company to play, shouldn’t he as well.
The thoughts let his lips curl smugly upon the ends as Haldir steps from the brush a few steps behind, his moon eyes instantly upon the dragons with haunty reserve. But play the part the gold had said and he does so. As his lips curl, he lets the gold in the eyes spark with some false life, and his crowned head dips, ever slightly. It was a rather….imposing distraction he had been given, but something had made his delight of fate’s choice all the higher. This was nearly unmistakably Confutatis’s descendant. Ever proud to know secrets of others, the tasseled tail begins to flick, the white train just brushing the ground below. (His mind has permanently stamped out the night with Nymeria, adding it to the growing blacklisted memories). So, though it was no more than an act, the very act of acting like himself, was refreshing. And his energy was bolstered to more dangerous levels before they had even spoken a word.
OOC :: I told myself the whole time I wrote this "I'm not supposed to join another-I'm not" but the possibility of finally stealing a snow thread was too much temptation. Hope you don't mind.
"Speech"
Down came the rain
and washed the spider out.
@Volterra
![[Image: 5381546acbe33]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5381546acbe33)
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
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