then I swear we can make this last
S W A G G E R
I swear by tomorrow this will all be in the past
(I haven't figured him out yet so bare with me)
Beqanna
Assailant -- Year 226
"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
you can't give me what I need || Any
|
09-29-2015, 07:32 PM
if you can wait till I get home then I swear we can make this last S W A G G E R I swear by tomorrow this will all be in the past (I haven't figured him out yet so bare with me) I'm rotting inside The Tundra. It doesn't whisper into its ear as the Chamber had but it's still drawn to the frigid hills and snow-capped mountains. It knows that it left behind a legacy, a dynasty. Its bloodline has run thickly in the successors but an odd feeling wraps over the deathcrawler that guides its steps toward the frozen wasteland. infection
09-30-2015, 07:12 PM
Snow swirls around him in wild disarray as he wades through knee-deep drifts, keeping within seeing distance of the massive ice wall that looms around the kingdom. The imposing structure stands sentinel against those that might wish to trespass upon the kingdom. He is eternally grateful that the wall stands to discourage such foolhardy trespassers. He is only one man, and patrolling an entire kingdom without that icy help would be taxing. Granted, some might be able to fly above, but they would be foolish to do so in this storm. And when the weather is clear, Hurricane is found in the skies far more often than the ground, so as to guard against such intruders. It offers an infinitely better advantage than does patrolling by foot. But today he must, for he is grounded just was truly as any other winged creature. Unfortunately, winter in the Tundra is a harsh time. The snow is near constant, the wind an ever-present foe. But many had been daring their harsh clime this winter. It seems word had spread rather quickly of their leaderless state. He has every intention of remedying that before someone tries to take advantage. He is nearing the single opening in the wall, an opening large enough to fit only a few horses through at a single time. As he nears, he sees a dark figure standing stoically on the other side, waiting for one of the brotherhood to notice him. Hurricane obliges him, slipping through the swirling snows to confront the visitor. Another horse is their however, one with claws that sink into the snow, clutching at the icy ground as he walks. And as he reaches the black stallion, he speaks, welcoming him to the tundra, adding a rasping inquiry as to his intentions. Hurricane’s dark gaze turns flinty, fixing on the presumptuous creature. As he steps forward, his body seems to materialize from the surrounding landscape, his pale coat and frosty wings blending almost perfectly with the frozen earth. His voice, when he speaks, is hard, as chilly as the land he calls home. You are not of the brotherhood. What right do you have to offer its association to anyone? There is never a day that goes by that is a good day to die. Hurricane
10-05-2015, 01:17 PM
if you can wait till I get home then I swear we can make this last S W A G G E R I swear by tomorrow this will all be in the past
10-06-2015, 09:06 AM
I'm rotting inside They won't take to its cold nature so willingly. They want a gentle man, one with emotions and concern for others. They want brothers they can rely on and yet it's Infection that arrived. With yellow stained canines and claws that knead into the snow and a grotesque stare it arrives as though prompted, as though it had never left. It claims its openness to wander because of its ties here although its lineage has only just stopped ruling. The dynasty it provided them with, however, gave the kingdom a chain of fair rulers. Its poisoned bloodlines brought life into the frozen hills. infection
10-08-2015, 01:14 PM
The dark newcomer takes the creatures questions in stride. Hurricane’s black gaze flicks briefly to the man, surveying him in one quick motion. The man would do well here, if he stuck around for longer than five minutes. In any case, he would not object to accepting him into the Brotherhood. His objections remain solely with the clawed man offering it to him. If you do not fear snow and cold, than you are welcome to join. A meeting will be called soon. I’d recommend you attend. He has never been one for beating around the bush or offering pretty words. If the man wanted to become one of the Brotherhood, he would be accepted. If he could make it through the caves, that is. Turning his hard gaze back to the roan stallion, he fixes him with a piercing stare. Perhaps the man had been here once long ago (a very long time ago, or Hurricane would remember him), but things had changed in the intervening years. He trusts him just about as much as he trusts a clear sky in winter. My knowledge of Tundra history is fresh enough. And frankly, we do not wish to renew bad habits. Perhaps he knows nothing of this man’s reign in the Tundra, but he is astute enough to recognize trouble when he sees it. There is never a day that goes by that is a good day to die. Hurricane |
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
|