Post by Ren on Dec 21, 2011 23:40:07 GMT -5
Six months and seven days has past and still the lands only scent houses his own. Paths that maybe once were carved out by the hooves of others now a simple rockless area. Horses had to have lived here once before, his senses could not have been wrong about that, not when the marks they left engraved against the very soul of the lands. Normally a horse would have to be off his hooves to desire such a desolate place, a world filled with such hardship, a place that promised to be as unforgiving as the raging sea just off a coast during a swelling storm. Winds moan through the hollows of the mountains, whispering evil thoughts, voices crying into the distance, painfully acute that just the sound of such a cadence sent a chill down his spin. The energy of adrenaline had nothing to do with that slight crisp chill in the air, nor did the rippling waves of excitement have anything to do with that ghostly moans. The stallion loved these lands, loved how the hollows spoke, how the light shined bright and how the clouds washed over the mountains like the touch of a lovers emotions.
Hooves pressed into the dirt leaving a small impression. A light chill spread through his limbs like tendrils over damp flesh. The cold was twisting further along his muscled legs, along his hindquarters and over the sides of his body as he pulled in air. Nostrils flared, at the smell of rotting meat, the scent was not all together distasteful just not completely agreeable. Birds, large black birds with an ugly mug circled high in the light sky, calling out, yelling for others. The first fought, mostly over who was stronger, who was alpha, why not be smart like Marrok was? Why not be silent, eat your fill and leave the rest of the birds to find their own meal, why go hungry when you can have a feast? However, a part of him, somewhere deep and dim, Marrok understood the meaning of group, of unity, of family even if his darker demon refused to acknowledge.
Muscles rippled under his beautiful white coat, he knew his looks were breath taking, the world and the Gods bowed at his hooves, whispered and molded their chargers after him. His strong neck, his thick legs and cunning disposition, he was perfection at its best. A toss of his head as he lifted just a little off the ground, his back hooves planted firmly in the cold sand as he scanned the horizon for signed of intruders. Just a day or two ago a young stallion thought to steal his lands, the brutes head was filled with fanciful dreams of breeding and being king, though Marrok could have forced the stallion to run he did not. That idea was reserved to the stupid, the foolish and the dead. The stallion met a premature death at Marrok’s hooves. His body is more then likely located under the circling birds. As for his lands, well Marrok now claimed them as his.
A deep breath was sucked into his lungs; still frustration lingered under his calm exterior. Under all that placid and cool appearance Marrok was seething inside, he had thought to take his land, he had come to his home and sent his foul smell in the air. Muscles flexed and tightened as he lifted his right leg up and smashed his hoof to the ground forcing the sand to shift under its weight. He hated others taking what did not belong to them, hated that he allowed himself to feel such emotions and oddly enough he loved the feeling of seeing the stallion, young as he was beg at the end. A light shake of his head send the long silken white hair to tumble down his neck and the sand to fall to the ground. Dark, intense eyes looked around, letting his thoughts fall from the stallion on the ground to the task at hand. No horse in sight at least right now but things could chance, the game could become that more pleasing. This land was his and his alone.
Large white wings fluffed at his side, tucked carefully in position as he moved a way from the birds and their new kill to explore his lands some more. He would never allow any stallion to take them from him, he loved the lands not matter how harsh and unforgiving they might be.
(I will make this pretty in a moment)
Hooves pressed into the dirt leaving a small impression. A light chill spread through his limbs like tendrils over damp flesh. The cold was twisting further along his muscled legs, along his hindquarters and over the sides of his body as he pulled in air. Nostrils flared, at the smell of rotting meat, the scent was not all together distasteful just not completely agreeable. Birds, large black birds with an ugly mug circled high in the light sky, calling out, yelling for others. The first fought, mostly over who was stronger, who was alpha, why not be smart like Marrok was? Why not be silent, eat your fill and leave the rest of the birds to find their own meal, why go hungry when you can have a feast? However, a part of him, somewhere deep and dim, Marrok understood the meaning of group, of unity, of family even if his darker demon refused to acknowledge.
Muscles rippled under his beautiful white coat, he knew his looks were breath taking, the world and the Gods bowed at his hooves, whispered and molded their chargers after him. His strong neck, his thick legs and cunning disposition, he was perfection at its best. A toss of his head as he lifted just a little off the ground, his back hooves planted firmly in the cold sand as he scanned the horizon for signed of intruders. Just a day or two ago a young stallion thought to steal his lands, the brutes head was filled with fanciful dreams of breeding and being king, though Marrok could have forced the stallion to run he did not. That idea was reserved to the stupid, the foolish and the dead. The stallion met a premature death at Marrok’s hooves. His body is more then likely located under the circling birds. As for his lands, well Marrok now claimed them as his.
A deep breath was sucked into his lungs; still frustration lingered under his calm exterior. Under all that placid and cool appearance Marrok was seething inside, he had thought to take his land, he had come to his home and sent his foul smell in the air. Muscles flexed and tightened as he lifted his right leg up and smashed his hoof to the ground forcing the sand to shift under its weight. He hated others taking what did not belong to them, hated that he allowed himself to feel such emotions and oddly enough he loved the feeling of seeing the stallion, young as he was beg at the end. A light shake of his head send the long silken white hair to tumble down his neck and the sand to fall to the ground. Dark, intense eyes looked around, letting his thoughts fall from the stallion on the ground to the task at hand. No horse in sight at least right now but things could chance, the game could become that more pleasing. This land was his and his alone.
Large white wings fluffed at his side, tucked carefully in position as he moved a way from the birds and their new kill to explore his lands some more. He would never allow any stallion to take them from him, he loved the lands not matter how harsh and unforgiving they might be.
(I will make this pretty in a moment)
