12-06-2015, 05:43 PM
He’s in the meadow when the voice calls out to him.
He freezes at the first sound, instantly filled with revulsion. His skin crawls as the voice speaks, telling him to come to the Desert kingdom. Magic. Magic is at work.
His first instinct is to not obey, to stay as far away from the Deserts as he possibly can. He knows well the dangers associated with traits and magic - he’d heard the stories of the great war between the Deserts and the Valley from his mother growing up. Power of that kind tends to corrupt.
And yet … his curiosity gets the better of him. Partially because he can’t help but wonder why a magician would be interested in him at all. He is completely insignificant. A simple boy, born in a quiet herd, to a loving mother and adoptive father. A no-one.
So what would a magician want with him?
He makes short work of the journey to the Desert kingdom, and slips over the border without a second thought. Again, he is a no one. Why would anyone care about his presence here?
He walks until he reaches a big old oak, sprouting out of the sands like a mirage. Yet another sign of the presence of magic. A tree like that should not be possible here.
A massive black winged stallion stands beneath the boughs of the tree, accompanied by a bay mare, a brightly coloured colt, a young appaloosa mare, and a chestnut appaloosa stallion. The spotted chestnut catches his attention momentarily. There’s something … familiar about him. He can’t quite put his hoof on it.
Then he spots the fearsome claws and paws where horses hooves should be, and he shudders. More traited ones. More magic. He’s definitely not going to stick around here for very long.
But, he might as well find out what they want from him first. “Who called me? What do you want?”
He freezes at the first sound, instantly filled with revulsion. His skin crawls as the voice speaks, telling him to come to the Desert kingdom. Magic. Magic is at work.
His first instinct is to not obey, to stay as far away from the Deserts as he possibly can. He knows well the dangers associated with traits and magic - he’d heard the stories of the great war between the Deserts and the Valley from his mother growing up. Power of that kind tends to corrupt.
And yet … his curiosity gets the better of him. Partially because he can’t help but wonder why a magician would be interested in him at all. He is completely insignificant. A simple boy, born in a quiet herd, to a loving mother and adoptive father. A no-one.
So what would a magician want with him?
He makes short work of the journey to the Desert kingdom, and slips over the border without a second thought. Again, he is a no one. Why would anyone care about his presence here?
He walks until he reaches a big old oak, sprouting out of the sands like a mirage. Yet another sign of the presence of magic. A tree like that should not be possible here.
A massive black winged stallion stands beneath the boughs of the tree, accompanied by a bay mare, a brightly coloured colt, a young appaloosa mare, and a chestnut appaloosa stallion. The spotted chestnut catches his attention momentarily. There’s something … familiar about him. He can’t quite put his hoof on it.
Then he spots the fearsome claws and paws where horses hooves should be, and he shudders. More traited ones. More magic. He’s definitely not going to stick around here for very long.
But, he might as well find out what they want from him first. “Who called me? What do you want?”