badblood [any]

[Mountain]

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Anything I say you lie along with me

Every song you sing is all because of me

The cool Tundra air has become important to cleansing me of the days struggles. On the horizon I see the flashes of stallions, of my men, banding together. I see the leader of the army, Errant. Or, atleast, the highest ranked member. He's conversing with the men - building our forces.

Yes, this is what it will take to make the Tundra great.

I pass through the high stalks of grass that I've come to call my own. They once seemed so desolate and so hopeless when Rapscallion planted us here all those years ago. Where he saw hope I saw desolation. Where he saw advantage I saw a great mistake. Now? Now I see the fruit of the labors. I see a group of men strong, though they don't believe in me yet.

They will. Oh, they will.

For now I am content to wander amongst the frost covered ground and think of the future and what it means. For now I am content to live in my kingdom. Soon, though, comes the promise of a strong future.

Anytime I cry you always laugh at me.

No matter what you do you belong to me

[Errant]

when my time comes around lay me gently in the cold dark earth Though it would be easiest for the king to accidentally slip while traversing a glacier or fall into the northern sea, Errant is accustomed enough to fickle fate to be nearly sure that such a blessing will never occur. The youth of the Tundra are ready to commit murder; they are prepared to turn the Tundra red with blood. Errant is not so eager. And so he struggles with a solution, one that will be quick, efficient, and permanent. Magic would be an easy fix, but there are consequences to that that he’s not yet ready to face. Spring is slowly making its way across the Tundra, and Errant passes through the tall grass that has sprouted seemingly overnight. There are no flowers yet – those are for early summer- but the kingdom is green and bright with new growth. It is not hard to find the black king; he is one of the few horses that are always alone. Errant has shed his bay roan coloring as time has passed and is now back to his natural midnight black. The silver of his scars glint a little too brightly as he steps up beside the younger horse, bobbing his head in greeting. “What are your plans for the Tundra?” He asks. Mountain had told them something, back when they had all gathered together. No one had agreed with the plans though, and Errant wants to gauge the changes that the king has made as a result. e r r a n t no grave can hold my body down i'll crawl home to her