[private] Its dark inside-ALL KINGDOM

[Warship]

come back with your shield, or on it

He had lost track of how many times he had stared at death and spit in his fucking face. By all intents and purposes, he should be a corpse; not even a corpse, but fucking dust scattered to the wind. But he and death, they were one in the same. He was a grim reaper made into living flesh. Death had touched him and he had lived, bearing only some scars to show for his trouble. The consummate survivor. Strong as the mountains that surrounded the Chamber, they were forged from the same stone. Despite the weathering on their face, at their core they remained just as strong. He was born from those stones once, and he would be born from them again.

It was like waking up suddenly, but without that moment of confusion. The Chamber, which owned his heart, had called to him. She was a brutal mistress and she did not take kindly to being ignored. He had tried to at first, grumbling and wrinkling his face in obvious distaste. She would not take no for an answer. When the black warrior refused to answer her summons, his heart lurched painfully in his chest, as if it were in the grasp of an iron-fisted giant. He shouldn’t have expected anything different; the kingdom had always taken from him everything that he had to give. Grumbling, stone-faced, and ears pinned he lumbered to his feet. New silver scars criss-crossed his blue black pelt, stories of a life lived at the end of sword. The horns that marked him a General were gone, as was the raven that kept him company. Those had retired with Straia; good riddance. All of that weight…it was heavy for old shoulders.

His steps were slow and measured, his face hard with resolve. The trail felt steeper now, to his old and tired bones. His years in the mountains had done him no favors strength wise, but he was alive. He had tried to die but the Chamber, being the stubborn bitch that she was, had refused to let it happen. So he had languished there on the rocky outcrops, waiting for the call he knew would eventually come. Beneath the not so docile tones of the Chamber came another voice, a voice again from his past. Killdare, current king and his once protégé. He had called before of course, but there was something about this call that made it more urgent somehow. So the old black stallion headed towards it, slipping off of the mountain and into the forest. Around him the trees seemed to purr, eager to welcome him back into their arms. He ignored them though, his eyes focused straight ahead towards where the baritone call had resonated from. Finally, he emerged, a ghost from the kingdoms past. No eyes turned to him and that suited him fine. He caught a glimmer of blue in the crowd and his chest clenched but he ignored it, and her, quite pointedly. There would be words for her later, but now was not the time. The flame from the tree caught the shine in his eyes as he stepped into their little gathering. “Well well…I thought I heard a summons.” he said simply as he inclined his head to Killdare. The throne suited him, and he radiated a power he had not had before. Another bay caught his eye and he forced away a sneer; they had several burnt bridges between them that he had no time to mend. Another mare spoke, and Warship didn’t spare her feelings when he rolled his eyes. These young ones, always so hot under the collar. They would charge into battle tomorrow and be chewed apart by the wolves. “The Chamber is waking up. I would know better than most. Listen close…hear that heart beat? She is rising from her slumber.” he said cryptically, straining his ears to hear the thump thump of his fathers heart. Yes, the kingdom was rising from her slumber, and Warship was here to see why.

-warship