The roan stalked across the dunes, having made his way across the plains from the Dale. He had caught wind that the Deserts were to be hosting games of sorts. Challenges, perhaps may be a better word now that he considered it. One for diplomats, one for fighters, and one for those with talents. He could only imagine the sort of gathering that might bring, what sort of folk might show. He could hardly resist. And so, he traversed the lands, the weather rather agreeable on the way here. Now though, he found it most uncomfortable. He was plodding along, considering turning back, when a nice breeze kicked up out of no where. His neck and dial raised up as if questioning, ears flicking trying to catch what sounds he could. The air tingled, that tell-tell feeling, like the one when your foot falls asleep. To some unpleasant, to Weir, excitement, knowledge, science. Some of his most favorite things.
This renewed the weary traveler, and he resumed his walk finally cresting over that last blasted sand hill. His amber eyes fell upon a most unusual gathering, horses of all shapes, sorts, colors dotted the dirt. He couldn't wait to meet them, all of them if he could. He had to get in there, chat, observe, take note. He whistled on his way down, descending the sand slope rather carefully. Full concentration now ol boy, he told himself for good measure. He slipped but a few times, having been most unaccustomed to traveling over sand. Deserts weren't his favorite. Hot, dry, the lay of the land sticking to you, gathering up in places he wasn't sure to speak of. Remaining there far past their welcome. No he had only visited one in the past, the entire situation unsatisfactory. Ah, but it couldn't be helped, when he felt that tug he had to go. Surely something needing attention.
Finally, finding his way to what seemed flatter land, he nickered a friendly call. Drawing ever near to the center, closing in on an oasis. What luck, he thought, helping himself to a cool drink. He was there for some time, guzzling, guzzling. How he managed such a consumption without being sick was truly a feat. Finally, though he lifted his dial, amber eyes taking in the sights. Maw dripping with water, without a care.
