Here they are, gathered, their eyes peering up at this commander who awards them and praises them. Nayl listens to the reward freshly offered to her team, but she doesn’t smile or celebrate. Instead, she intently heeds the next challenge that stands between her and completion.
Across from the arena stands a proud tree, its fruit catching the sunlight and glistening. Nayl regards them with a calculative stare before letting her autumn eyes slide down the trunk to find the serpent slithering from the sandy ground up toward the branches as to better protect its treasure. Many stampede toward the prize like wildebeests, but Nayl is far more meticulous as she approaches the solitary tree.
A slow blink and she can see how others utilize their abilities – their armor, wings, magic – and then she glances down to consider her own options as the snake turns its triangular head toward her, its tongue flickering curiously.
Immortality cannot save her here. Her mind’s walls are moot.
A coy grin creases her lips as Nayl inches closer, the magic in her blood pulsing through her veins and feeding off her adrenaline. She could potentially bring the tree to life – or would it be forced stagnant by otherworldly powers? – but diverts to what surrounds them. The snake is coiling now, wanting her, lusting to poison her like it has others in its life.
But then the earth shakes and something familiar creeps from the ground.
As a reflection of the obstacle, a serpent arises, its body composed of the sand they stand upon. It comes to life with vigor and hisses at the true snake protecting the apples. It provides a diversion. Serpent versus serpent; natural instincts bring them together in a stand-off while Nayl scrambles forward and grabs a golden apple that has been knocked from a branch by her own sand snake. Her fiery eyes twinkle as she spares a glance toward the brawling reptiles. They writhe, snap, and dodge. It actually looks like a dance that lures her attention for a long breath. It lasts briefly, this fight, but just as the tree guardian lunges forward, mouth agape, Nayl releases her grip on the sand creature. It falls away like water, leaving the guardian alone on its branch, its body still poised for more combat. It sees her; their eyes lock, but Nayl merely tilts her head smugly before bringing the apple to their commander, concluding this part of the challenge.
The heavy war horses that knights rode were called Destriers.
Across from the arena stands a proud tree, its fruit catching the sunlight and glistening. Nayl regards them with a calculative stare before letting her autumn eyes slide down the trunk to find the serpent slithering from the sandy ground up toward the branches as to better protect its treasure. Many stampede toward the prize like wildebeests, but Nayl is far more meticulous as she approaches the solitary tree.
A slow blink and she can see how others utilize their abilities – their armor, wings, magic – and then she glances down to consider her own options as the snake turns its triangular head toward her, its tongue flickering curiously.
Immortality cannot save her here. Her mind’s walls are moot.
A coy grin creases her lips as Nayl inches closer, the magic in her blood pulsing through her veins and feeding off her adrenaline. She could potentially bring the tree to life – or would it be forced stagnant by otherworldly powers? – but diverts to what surrounds them. The snake is coiling now, wanting her, lusting to poison her like it has others in its life.
But then the earth shakes and something familiar creeps from the ground.
As a reflection of the obstacle, a serpent arises, its body composed of the sand they stand upon. It comes to life with vigor and hisses at the true snake protecting the apples. It provides a diversion. Serpent versus serpent; natural instincts bring them together in a stand-off while Nayl scrambles forward and grabs a golden apple that has been knocked from a branch by her own sand snake. Her fiery eyes twinkle as she spares a glance toward the brawling reptiles. They writhe, snap, and dodge. It actually looks like a dance that lures her attention for a long breath. It lasts briefly, this fight, but just as the tree guardian lunges forward, mouth agape, Nayl releases her grip on the sand creature. It falls away like water, leaving the guardian alone on its branch, its body still poised for more combat. It sees her; their eyes lock, but Nayl merely tilts her head smugly before bringing the apple to their commander, concluding this part of the challenge.
The heavy war horses that knights rode were called Destriers.