Guess who's back! Back Again! (Mountain, Any)

[Zerachiel]

It's been a long time since the white stallion had been to his former home, he'd had the urge recently to check it out again though. After going nomad for so long he wondered if he'd even be accepted back. It was spring time, the birds were out, the snow was melting, and the sun highlighted the bright blue of his wings perfectly. He felt a slight breeze brush his mane as he trotted into the Tundra. He saw the boys here and there, and wondered who the king was now. He stopped to graze, his blue eyes darting around curiously. Time had muscled his thin frame and his mane and tail had grown long. It made his wings much less awkward.

Maybe if he put more time and effort into he could rank up this time, he had always been a rule follower, that doesn't always get you anywhere though, maybe this king would appreciate loyalty. Because of his small frame he was quick, he could handle himself in a fight if he had too, he'd be a good soldier, king and country, all that junk. He made no effort to hide his presence, he stood out, the blue highlighting his white frame, standing out is good. This time I'll go places. He just needed to find out who was the monarch, and what he needed to do to get to the top, or as close as he could get anyways.

Zerachiel wondered where his children were, how they were doing, if they were mad about his wandering in recent days. Sometimes you just need to get away. Maybe he would see them again.

[Errant]

when my time comes around lay me gently in the cold dark earth Errant is always pleased when former members return, and this bright-winged stranger is no exception. Errant does not know him, but there is no doubt that the man has lived here before; he is too familiar with the place not to have. The black stallion leaves his grazing to approach the newcomer, nodding his black head in greeting and offering the other man a friendly smile. “Hello there,” he says, his voice warm to match his bright grey eyes. It is rare these days that he can be so relaxed; most days he feels as though he walks on needles, waiting for the pin to drop, the ball to roll, what have you. “My name is Errant.” He pauses just long enough for the other horse to respond with his own name if he wishes, and continues. “Welcome to the Tundra, or should I say welcome back?” He tilts his head, shifts his weight to his unscarred right side, and waits for a reply. e r r a n t no grave can hold my body down i'll crawl home to her

[Mountain]

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Anything I say you lie along with me

Every song you sing is all because of me

All faces are welcomed, new or otherwise, in the Tundra - and I plan to be one of the first faces they see. Youthful, crowned king (by my own devices), and ready to greet the day. Welcome to the army! Welcome to the peace caste! Please, take a seat amongst the growing band of brothers! I'd love to see what you have to offer!

And that's the way it's become. It's a welcome humdrum, one that I've found to supercede recruiting. For every recruited man that appears, three others come back. The Tundra appears to be the metal rod, the light on the porch, it brings them all back time and time again. It appears as though we are all wandering and waiting.

"Hello!" I call, always friendly, always jovial. At least, in my mind. And there - Errant! Yes, that's his name - though he looks different. Every time I see him his coat is different. I wonder if he has that same strange magic the other horses of Beqanna appear to have. Something about this place gives them change. "I am Mountain, the king...have you lived here before?" I catch the end of Errant welcoming him back.

Anytime I cry you always laugh at me.

No matter what you do you belong to me