11-08-2015, 10:28 PM
The early morning air is frigid, turning breath to steam as soon as it leaves the lungs. And though the sun dawns bright, sending streaks of pink across the sky, it, as yet, has no impact upon the chilly land. At its highest peak it would raise the temperature a few degrees, helping to thaw the first layer of frost riming the ground. Positively balmy by Tundra standards, but still wintry by any other. For Hurricane, it is something he has long since grown used to. His pale coat remains thick most of the year, his feathered wings ruffled and filled with down. Even during the all too brief summers he never quite loses his shaggy appearance; just as none of the stallions who live here do. In the Tundra, it is simply a fact of life.
The newcomer seems to acclimate fairly quickly. Or, at the very least, is very good at ignoring the elements. When Hurricane returns, it is to find him just awakening. Solomyr rises swiftly to his feet upon hearing his approach, incurring the winged stallion’s silent approval. Quick reflexes. Always a good thing to have in such an unforgiving land. While wildlife is relatively sparse in this clime, the ones that do thrive are not always the friendliest.
As he lands on the frozen earth before the darker stallion with a soft whump, he surveys him just as Solomyr studies the surrounding landscape. The Tundra is flat and wide, the only structures breaking up the otherwise empty space being the caves in the distance and the looming ice wall.
The ice wall in and of itself is not something Hurricane has often considered, though in truth it could be considered exceedingly odd. The massive structure has been such an important part of the Tundra’s landscape for enough years that Hurricane has ceased to think of it overly much. Though, nearly a decade ago now, the wall had melted in the wake of the disasters that had befallen Beqanna, it had promptly been replaced. It had been an impressive feat (although impressive feats have long ago become almost commonplace in Beqanna).
As he stands before the other stallion, Hurricane remains silent until Solomyr has placed his questions before him.
”We are few in number at the moment. You will get to meet them soon enough, I am sure.”
He pauses a moment, considering what more to say. It is true the Tundra is few in number, giving everyone more than ample space. But then again, you could likely fit the whole of every kingdom inside the Tundra without feeling cramped.
”As you might imagine, we are looking to fill our ranks. Recruiting is one way to gain the promotions you seek.”
As ever, he is quite blunt. No use in dancing delicately around such a subject, as far as he is concerned.
”Speaking of, if you choose to stay, let me know which caste you would prefer to join. War or peace.”
He is quite certain he already knows which one the man will choose to join. Nevertheless, the option needed to be put forth.
The newcomer seems to acclimate fairly quickly. Or, at the very least, is very good at ignoring the elements. When Hurricane returns, it is to find him just awakening. Solomyr rises swiftly to his feet upon hearing his approach, incurring the winged stallion’s silent approval. Quick reflexes. Always a good thing to have in such an unforgiving land. While wildlife is relatively sparse in this clime, the ones that do thrive are not always the friendliest.
As he lands on the frozen earth before the darker stallion with a soft whump, he surveys him just as Solomyr studies the surrounding landscape. The Tundra is flat and wide, the only structures breaking up the otherwise empty space being the caves in the distance and the looming ice wall.
The ice wall in and of itself is not something Hurricane has often considered, though in truth it could be considered exceedingly odd. The massive structure has been such an important part of the Tundra’s landscape for enough years that Hurricane has ceased to think of it overly much. Though, nearly a decade ago now, the wall had melted in the wake of the disasters that had befallen Beqanna, it had promptly been replaced. It had been an impressive feat (although impressive feats have long ago become almost commonplace in Beqanna).
As he stands before the other stallion, Hurricane remains silent until Solomyr has placed his questions before him.
”We are few in number at the moment. You will get to meet them soon enough, I am sure.”
He pauses a moment, considering what more to say. It is true the Tundra is few in number, giving everyone more than ample space. But then again, you could likely fit the whole of every kingdom inside the Tundra without feeling cramped.
”As you might imagine, we are looking to fill our ranks. Recruiting is one way to gain the promotions you seek.”
As ever, he is quite blunt. No use in dancing delicately around such a subject, as far as he is concerned.
”Speaking of, if you choose to stay, let me know which caste you would prefer to join. War or peace.”
He is quite certain he already knows which one the man will choose to join. Nevertheless, the option needed to be put forth.
There is never a day that goes by
that is a good day to die.
Hurricane
