The graying warrior made his way into the clearing, following the warrior's call. His figure, still fit and muscled from years and years of battle training and fighting slid through the trees calmly, collectedly. Scars littered his body, one nasty one particularly noticeable as it interrupted his charcoal hide to run from his left eye down his left shoulder. Ever since Gossamer's dragon had burned him, the once long and soft white and crimson mane had not grown back, leaving him with a colt's brush along the crest of his neck.
In the crisp air of frostfall, the stallion's beard had grown rather long, black and white with thick tints of silver from his age. Though Paladin was young enough still, the years of work and injury upon his figure had aged him considerably. The black dun's ears tilted forward as he heard voices speaking close by, so he adjusted his direction ever so slightly to enter the clearing, crimson eyes scanning the small group.
A gold dragon moved to greet him, and he lifted his neck high on his withers, tensing and gritting his teeth. She was a very large, golden dragon, and though he knew that he was safe while in Mirage's herd, his "healthy respect" for them still made his heart surge. After briefly closing his eyes and collecting himself, he warily watched her rejoin her green friend before turning his attention to what had been spoken.
Mirage seemed to more or less appear at Destrier's side, and Paladin nodded deeply in her direction. "I will do whatever I can to help," he said quietly.
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