07-22-2016, 09:37 AM
WEIR
Whew, that was close. Weir heaved as he looked across the plains at his opponent, he was thoroughly tired and sore. The roan was glad it was all over and he probably wasn’t the only one.
It took him a while to catch his breath, wincing as each movement of his expanding lungs caused him to renew the throb that ached in his ribs. That was quite enough of a beating for one day he thought, he had done his part, at least where he was concerned, he had done good for Shippy. He watched them all as they went, the bloodied Chamber King eyeing them each and Weir deduced he was counting them. The roan tipped his head to the dark colored Amazon before he left, wishing her well before he took limped his way towards those that departed.
Boy, that limp, it was a bugger that one. Weir’s amber eyes found the dark form of Warship and he smiled, glad to have been of assistance. It made Weir feel better joining in, jing the side of his friend instead of battling against him. In truth he hadn’t battled against Warship at all, but his herd had, those of their allies had and Weir was done with it. “Fine job Warshyshippy, fine job,” he called as he limped his way forward, there was little hope for him to catch up to the group but that was fine. He should probably take it easy anyways, he would only over exhaust his already depleting strength.
Now first Weir had gone to the Dale, glad that it was not too far from the plains at all. Weir had gone home and he had rested a few hours, greeted the children, greeted Eira and then something awful happened. After giving himself a break to breathe he had finally called on Darwin, excited to tell the telling of his war tale (even though Darwin would already know) when Darwin couldn't be found. At first he called to him, the tortoise’s name repeating on his rusty lips over and over. When that did not work Weir tried pulling him forth, tugging at the place in his innards where he knew Darwin to dwell. Still, Darwin did not come. That’s when Weir became a bit frantic, a nuisance calling over and over to his spirit. He stomped a hoof into the earth, demanding Darwin to quit his nonsense, that this wasn’t a funny joke.
Still Darwin did not show. Weir cried, he begged Darwin to come out, pleaded with the tortoise. He apologized for whatever it was he had done to upset him and yet, there was no answer in return. Weir climbed the hill that day, struggled his way up, urged himself forward though he very much wanted to collapse more than once. He went to the pool, the very one that Darwin had been born in and he called to the tortoise from there too. Weir even tried to pull at the Magic from the pool but he could not so much as make a ripple on its mirror like surface.
He stayed there for a week, crying and shouting and pleading. Weir took no food and he took no drink in this time, he wasn’t hungry and the dry mouth was a small price to pay if it would be enough to make his soul come back. Can you imagine having such a thing ripped from you? On the seventh day he could no longer cry, his eyes had dried up, his heart had finally gone numb- for the moment. Weir sullenly went back down the hill, he ate until he could not eat, he drank until he made himself sick and then he drank again. After that he went to Eira, he went to the children and then he left, few in tow. We can be sure that little Rowling was glued to his side, eager for adventure. All it had taken was for Weir to show him miniature scale of the Tundra’s ice wall and the boy was set.
They came with nothing other than what would come with, Weir even waited at the gate much to Rowling’s displeasure. The roan called once, sheathing himself in a suit of ice and then hanging his head. He felt cold inside, truly chilled, now he could feel the cold on the outside as well.
It took him a while to catch his breath, wincing as each movement of his expanding lungs caused him to renew the throb that ached in his ribs. That was quite enough of a beating for one day he thought, he had done his part, at least where he was concerned, he had done good for Shippy. He watched them all as they went, the bloodied Chamber King eyeing them each and Weir deduced he was counting them. The roan tipped his head to the dark colored Amazon before he left, wishing her well before he took limped his way towards those that departed.
Boy, that limp, it was a bugger that one. Weir’s amber eyes found the dark form of Warship and he smiled, glad to have been of assistance. It made Weir feel better joining in, jing the side of his friend instead of battling against him. In truth he hadn’t battled against Warship at all, but his herd had, those of their allies had and Weir was done with it. “Fine job Warshyshippy, fine job,” he called as he limped his way forward, there was little hope for him to catch up to the group but that was fine. He should probably take it easy anyways, he would only over exhaust his already depleting strength.
Now first Weir had gone to the Dale, glad that it was not too far from the plains at all. Weir had gone home and he had rested a few hours, greeted the children, greeted Eira and then something awful happened. After giving himself a break to breathe he had finally called on Darwin, excited to tell the telling of his war tale (even though Darwin would already know) when Darwin couldn't be found. At first he called to him, the tortoise’s name repeating on his rusty lips over and over. When that did not work Weir tried pulling him forth, tugging at the place in his innards where he knew Darwin to dwell. Still, Darwin did not come. That’s when Weir became a bit frantic, a nuisance calling over and over to his spirit. He stomped a hoof into the earth, demanding Darwin to quit his nonsense, that this wasn’t a funny joke.
Still Darwin did not show. Weir cried, he begged Darwin to come out, pleaded with the tortoise. He apologized for whatever it was he had done to upset him and yet, there was no answer in return. Weir climbed the hill that day, struggled his way up, urged himself forward though he very much wanted to collapse more than once. He went to the pool, the very one that Darwin had been born in and he called to the tortoise from there too. Weir even tried to pull at the Magic from the pool but he could not so much as make a ripple on its mirror like surface.
He stayed there for a week, crying and shouting and pleading. Weir took no food and he took no drink in this time, he wasn’t hungry and the dry mouth was a small price to pay if it would be enough to make his soul come back. Can you imagine having such a thing ripped from you? On the seventh day he could no longer cry, his eyes had dried up, his heart had finally gone numb- for the moment. Weir sullenly went back down the hill, he ate until he could not eat, he drank until he made himself sick and then he drank again. After that he went to Eira, he went to the children and then he left, few in tow. We can be sure that little Rowling was glued to his side, eager for adventure. All it had taken was for Weir to show him miniature scale of the Tundra’s ice wall and the boy was set.
They came with nothing other than what would come with, Weir even waited at the gate much to Rowling’s displeasure. The roan called once, sheathing himself in a suit of ice and then hanging his head. He felt cold inside, truly chilled, now he could feel the cold on the outside as well.
WINTER IS COMING
Please welcome Weir, he has cometh to sulk.