10-15-2015, 11:40 PM
The gray stallion stands easily next to the newcomer, his pale coat standing out starkly against the other man’s onyx one. They are not left alone for long, though Hurricane had not expected they would be. He has lingered unseen along the edges of the field long enough to know the social norms of the place. No horse is left alone for long in these parts. And so another approaches, this one a brown and white stallion who introduces himself as Kronk.
The latest addition to their small group is unfamiliar to Hurricane, which in and of itself is rather odd. Whether or not he had actually met them, he had heard of or seen many, many horses. It seems to be a natural consequence of having lived on this earth for such a long time. Nevertheless, he offers a brief nod of acknowledgement to the stallion. He detects a faint hint of ash and smoke coming from Kronk, telling him immediately from which kingdom he hails. There is only one place that had burned recently.
As the newcomer speaks, offering his name before curtly asking after their purpose, Hurricane turns his steely eyes back to the dark stallion. As far as he is concerned, this works all the better. No need to waste time on useless pleasantries.
”If you’re looking to rest, you picked a poor place to do so.”
He pauses a moment, eyeing Solomyr in consideration.
”I’ll be brief. I come from the Tundra. I am in search of men willing to help build up the kingdom, to fight for it. It is a harsh land, but offers its rewards as well.” Pause. ”To be frank, it takes a certain strength and fortitude to do well there. Not all are cut out for it. If you don’t think you’d have what it takes, I’d recommend accepting whatever he’s about to offer.”
He tips his head in Kronk’s direction as he speaks the last. Settling back, having spoken his piece, his dark eyes remain fixed upon Solomyr, a silent challenge held within that flinty gaze.
The latest addition to their small group is unfamiliar to Hurricane, which in and of itself is rather odd. Whether or not he had actually met them, he had heard of or seen many, many horses. It seems to be a natural consequence of having lived on this earth for such a long time. Nevertheless, he offers a brief nod of acknowledgement to the stallion. He detects a faint hint of ash and smoke coming from Kronk, telling him immediately from which kingdom he hails. There is only one place that had burned recently.
As the newcomer speaks, offering his name before curtly asking after their purpose, Hurricane turns his steely eyes back to the dark stallion. As far as he is concerned, this works all the better. No need to waste time on useless pleasantries.
”If you’re looking to rest, you picked a poor place to do so.”
He pauses a moment, eyeing Solomyr in consideration.
”I’ll be brief. I come from the Tundra. I am in search of men willing to help build up the kingdom, to fight for it. It is a harsh land, but offers its rewards as well.” Pause. ”To be frank, it takes a certain strength and fortitude to do well there. Not all are cut out for it. If you don’t think you’d have what it takes, I’d recommend accepting whatever he’s about to offer.”
He tips his head in Kronk’s direction as he speaks the last. Settling back, having spoken his piece, his dark eyes remain fixed upon Solomyr, a silent challenge held within that flinty gaze.
There is never a day that goes by
that is a good day to die.
Hurricane
