“I have returned as promised, to challenge Queen Alysanne or her Champion, for the stolen herb bags the Queen wears.”

The proclamation rings clearly and loudly in the early, misted air. But the King is already awake. Despite his new and improve sleeping quarters alongside Rexanna, sleep still evades the Elephant; and so he stands at the edge of their alcove, peering down at the crashing waves obscured by the fog.

Black-rimmed ears tilt back as silence falls after the demigoddess’s longwinded declaration, punctuated by a lone gull’s keen. A deep sigh expands his vast chest before gusting out of his dark nostrils. His head swivels back to look back at their cave where Rexanna slumbers and then to the smaller opening where Kiada is curled in sleep.

Then, he turns to walk southward along the cliffs, heeding Isopia’s challenge. Though his mind is not on battle tactics, as the cliffs drop steeply to his right while forests sprout to his left. No, in this early morning mist, his mind searches for the little he knows about this mare (ironically, given her monicker). He vaguely recalls the that she was the one to deal the final, fatal blow to the Tiger Goddess in the Isles (the claw-marked skin of his right shoulder twitches)… and the Earth God had spoken to her as a daughter. But beyond that, the Elephant King knew little; his attention had (naturally) been distracted by the death of Mauja’s daughter. That had been the day he ascended to regency, crowned in a child’s blood.

He shakes his head slightly to clear it as his heavy steps along the white, wreathed cliffs finally bring him abreast of the rocky ground that blends into a meadow at his left. Navy eyes glance momentarily to the left, gaze attracted by the bright billowing of her red cloak. Idly, the general in him notes that such a garment is a useful handle for leverage in battle. But then he looks fully to his right, staring blankly into the mists as he gathers his thoughts.

The Mountain’s words, while verbose, still lend the King to thought. He will protect the rights and property of the Edge, because that is his duty, and therefore just and fair in his eyes. However, he knows there is more beneath this superficial, overarching assumption…

Pursing his thick, black lips, he swivels on his haunches towards the waiting Mountain. The Mountain of Knowledge, of thoughts, of logic and long tautology that provokes others to think about their actions. There is much to be said for inspiring (or inflaming) reflection, conversations, and questions. But the Elephant King, despite his stint as leader morphing his mind towards diplomacy, is still a stallion of action.

So, with navy eyes settling on her bright gold, he approaches her—and surprise laces through him that he does not have to lower his gaze. There were some that were nearly his height in Helovia, but she is the first to stand truly even with him. Though he faces her head on, he is not so stupid to approach from the middle of the clearing. Instead, his long limbs take strides that hug his right side along the meadow’s treed edge. That, at least, would limit the expanse from which her aerial attacks may come.

“It is a dangerous precedent to set, Mountain that Knows,” his low voice rumbles clearly in the opaque air, “To absorb the long-standing rivalries of new herd members.” He pauses, studying her dark and tooth-marked face; the pale markings reflecting the bite of the words she spoke. Then his brows raise as his deep voice rings again, clearly, “If you are to rectify all past grievances with your current leadership, then have you ensured there are no stolen items in all of the Falls?” His mind turns to the many trinkets of his herd members—did he know which were stolen and which were not?

His eyes, again, are drawn to the billow of her red cape and gentle shine of her golden pauldron in the slowly rising sun’s muted light. “I accept your challenge, Mountain. But know that the repercussions of your actions as Czarina are far reaching.”

Mbwene, awakened by the anticipatory adrenaline pulsing from her bonded, stirs from her nest of leaves and feathers. Slowly she rises to her feet, sleepy mind assimilating the sudden influx of information from Tembovu. And then she is running, full-tilt, towards the meadow where the two leaders face each other, grumbling through her bond about hard-headed Elephants.

WC: 764
A: 0/4
Damage tracker: --
Summary: Tembo comes into the clearing with his right side along the trees and talks to Iso.

Tembovu

the elephant king