I seek admission

[Archon]

Archon trudged confidently through the snow just outaide the ice wall thinking to himself "I can't believe I have yet to encounter a scouting party." He stopped for a moment and stretched his long white legs, before raising his large head "I wonder if I'll be the only all white horse?" Archon thought to himself before he sniffed the chilly air testing for the scent of other horses, nothing but frost from what he could decipher but he could feel someone watching him....he just didn't know who so he continued on not giving a clue as to his sudden discovery. He had heard in the meadow that the Tundra was home to a Male dominated society ruled by the notorious Hurricane. Archon wished to meet the Stallion that held so much respect, if he was permitted to join there ranks then he WOULD meet Hurricane. Archon had come to the Tundra to serve a kingdom, he was strong and intelligent something that he thought this society might value, with luck maybe he could move up the ranks and hold some respect......Attention, No respect is what he strived to gain in his lifetime and he would do his damndest to achieve that.

[Brynmor]

OOC1: Would you mind using punctuation in your posts? The way it currently is makes your post very hard to read. Thanks!

OOC2: ’Italic’ is what the imaginary friend in his head says (and thus only Brynmor can hear him) and ”colored” is what Brynmor actually says out loud.

OOC3: I couldn’t find any ‘Archon’ in neither the database or ‘join’, did you properly join him in the join section?

Brynmor

"I will see."

Even though he was blind and couldn’t rely on sight to gain information at all, the graying black soon found out that the Tundra was a little empty. Thus far he had only met Hurricane, whom he later learned was the king, and next to that he found a few signs of other habitants. His nose could clearly tell him that the scent – although it was somewhat faint already – was female. It all left Brynmor to conclude that they indeed where with little numbers and it probably explained why Hurricane accepted him among the ranks without much questioning.

’See where you stupid behaviour let you? There’s nothing thriving here, let alone life. They only send you here to get rid of you’ his friend spoke up, but unlike other times the tune was much kinder. It was no longer humouring and humiliating him, instead it almost sounded like his friend had taken a pity on him. ”All the better” Brynmor stubbornly replies, as he is still convinced that the imaginary voice is real. After all, his unseeing eyes couldn’t tell him otherwise. A brief pause, used in favour of finding the opening in the wall. ”We will prove them what we, what I, can achieve.” With that the gray male finish their conversation – for now at least.

Before he manages to find the opening in the wall, which is the only way to access the bachelor kingdom’s lands, except of course for those who can fly, he notices the stranger’s presence. Oh yeah, Brynmor is confident that this male is a stranger, even though he hasn’t met any of his so called ‘brothers’ yet. His nose tells him. This man doesn’t smell like he has been in Beqanna long, he’s new to the lands. Yet he seemed to know where he was going, why else would you end up in the far north of Beqanna.

The stranger wasn’t the only white man out there. Soon Brynmor would be too, although it would take him another few years to shed his gray coat for a totally white one. Hurricane himself supported that icy color too, but it wasn’t like Brynmor could know that. He didn’t recognize them by sight, instead it was their scent, their voices, their attitude and so on. ”You have some nerve, stranger, to just cross a kingdom’s border like that” he remarks, coming to a halt himself.

His head sways in the direction of the intruding stranger, eyes narrowing slightly, but his ears turn in the man’s direction. The snow made it easy for the blind man to guess where the other was, the crackling sound of hooves meeting snow told him so. ”What brings you here?” his question is almost as direct as his answer had been towards Hurricane. Brynmor wasn’t the person to lecture this stranger about manners, he grew up without them after all, but that didn’t mean he would just let him walk into his home just like that.

"Through your secret."

[Archon]

Archon swept his gaze across the Tundra only spotting one other stallion. He approached him from the side hoping to not startle him, he just wanted to inquire the whereabouts of Hurricane. The other stallion perks his ears in his direction and boldly states that Archon has some nerve to cross the kingdoms border. I didn't realize it took nerve to seek a new, better life Archon thinks to himself perhaps Archon was mistaken and the Tundra did not wish for new recruits. "My apologies sir I did not mean to intrude on your privacy and your lands I just wish to join your ranks, I wanted to start a new life. I will leave if Hurricane isn't looking for new recruits, but it looks pretty empty put here." Archon tells the other man hoping to appease him and make amends for insulting him by being so rude. Archon turns back toward the ice wall and takes a few steps in that direction.

[Brynmor]

Brynmor

"I will see."

Apparently this unknown male didn’t know or understand the concept of directness. All Brynmor had done was blindly stating the truth. Not because he thought of it as really important, but he knew damn well that other kingdoms weren’t pleased if you just crossed their borders like that. And a call was simple to make, most of the time someone would respond quite quickly if their attention was requested. All you had to do was wait.

The graying blind man snorted softly, tossing his head in the air, but his unseeing gaze didn’t move away from the direction of the stranger. ”I asked you to respect the borders, I didn’t say you weren’t welcome” he replied, still just as direct as before. An empty smile pulled slightly on his lips, caused by the deep sigh his imaginary friend exhaled. ’Idiots, really. We didn’t mention anything about Hurricane or if the Tundra seeks warriors’ his friend whispered mockingly in his mind soon after and Brynmor could only agree. ”I know” he replied softly.

Even though he couldn’t actually see the stallion turn to walk away, he could hear the movement the other made. The crackling snow made that very clear. Brynmor didn’t make any preparation to follow the stranger, he wouldn’t be able to keep up anyway. ”If you would want a place among the Tundra’s warriors I can offer you one, but it’s Hurricane himself that holds final judgement.”

"Through your secret."

OOC: ’Italic’ is what the imaginary friend in his head says (and thus only Brynmor can hear him) and ”colored” is what Brynmor actually says out loud.

[Hurricane]

Hurricane is always aware. He knows when there are newcomers upon his land, even without magic to aid him. Unfortunately he is not always nearby. He is only a man after all, one who must rely on (relatively) normal means of travel. Having wings does not grant him any special ability to arrive at his borders instantaneously, even as much as he would like it to.

His wings beat a steady rhythm as he makes his way across the cold, gray skies. It is one of those rare winter days where snow is not falling from the sky. This far north, snow is far more common than the sun is. Blizzards are expected and cold is so commonplace that it changes the men who live here. For better or for worse is yet to be determined.

He sees the pair of men long before he reaches them. One an unmarked white that nearly blends with the snow, the other a dappled pewter that contrasts easily with their icy surroundings. Hurricane himself is a snowy gray marked only by faint dappling on his flanks and knees, his wide, feathery wings extended, blending nearly perfectly with the gray sky above. Even without his invisibility, he wouldn’t be immediately visible against the pale, snow-laden clouds.

He is grimly satisfied to see that Brynmor is living up to his potential and already making himself an active member of the kingdom. He circles the pair, once, twice, high above as he watches them for a moment before making his descent. Even as he falls from the sky, snow begins to drift down alongside him. The Tundra never goes for long in the winter without snow flying.

He lands amongst the two stallions with a solid thump, his wings snapping shut as he settles them against his pale sides. It seems that Brynmor has been chiding the newcomer for violating their borders, and Hurricane cannot fault him for it. The wall stands for a reason, which fortunately makes it nearly impossible to cross their borders without detection. Although, if the man’s intention is join the Brotherhood, Hurricane could forgive him the oversight. It is true the Tundra is in need of Brothers, and he is not about to turn one away.

His steely gaze fixing upon the newcomer, he studies him for a long moment before finally offering an introduction, blunt though it may be.

”I am Hurricane. What is your purpose here?”

There is never a day that goes by

that is a good day to die.

Hurricane