i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
Reave has never been one to stand on social norms, to stand by the arbitrary lines carved through this continent by ancient hooves. If one keeps their secrets where another could so easily find them, they deserve what may follow when they are inevitably stumbled upon. What secrets the Guardian of Nerine keeps would never be found so easily.
Or perhaps it’s simply that the territory under his guardianship is so difficult to sneak into without being noticed. The bare and craggy cliffs lining the northern peninsula are vast and exposed, leaving few places to hide (unless one wishes to become a permanent cave-dweller). The pounding of the tempestuous surf gives little respite to the rocky shores, and the moors above are exposed and windswept.
If the dark pegasus had looked toward the thermals before he landed, he might have seen the large harpy eagle riding them. To the casual observer, he is little more than a raptor hunting the highlands of the north. To the land’s strange and barbaric guardian however, he is much, much more. A piece of his very soul, ripped away when he was shredded and consumed by monsters before being refashioned into the body of the large bird.
They are forever bound together, the Guardian and his eagle.
Rune had warned him of the stranger’s approach of course. So even as his hooves thud until the beach far below, Reave is mirroring his path from the south. Sweeping past the boggy lowlands, the armored stallion trails along the rising cliffs as he moves to intercept the newcomer, curiosity lighting the blue of his sharp gaze.
To the unfamiliar eye, he would be an undoubtedly strange sight. He might have been handsome were it not for the ivory of bone rupturing his skin in a brutal fashion. As he had aged, the growth of the bone had slowed. He knows one day it would halt entirely as his body settles into it’s immortality, but for now blood still streaks the ragged edges where bone battles skin, softened only by the subtle glow emanating from the armor.
Beneath the mask shrouding his features, Reave’s gaze is bright, a faint smile toying with the corners of his lips. When he speaks, his greeting is as irreverent as the slight tilt of his bone-plated head. “Bored of the trees already?”
reave
@Cassiell