If age were a barrier to joining a kingdom, Hurricane should have been barred long ago. He has long since surpassed merely old and now exists somewhere within the realm of ancient. If the man wishes to try his hand (or rather, hoof) in the Tundra, Hurricane would quite readily welcome him amongst the ranks.
He is thoroughly grateful that the darker stallion seems to have no inclination towards wasting time. As the other man gives his decision, Hurricane dips his head slightly to the two mares before turning to lead the way to the Tundra. Dark gaze fixing onto Corruption, he unfolds his wings from his side.
”If you’ve no objection, I thought we might fly. Faster that way.”
That said, he turns away, leaping into the sky, pale wings beating strongly to gain the necessary altitude. He glances back briefly, hoping the other man has followed his lead.
The landscape falls away beneath them, the horses dotting the meadows shrinking into the smallest of points, the trees and hills disappearing into a distant mass of white interspersed by shades of brown. The wind whips around them, stronger up here, tangling Hurricane’s pale locks, ruffling his thick coat and downy feathers. He nearly smiles, though the singular joy of becoming one with the sky does not quite win out over the sternness of his features.
The land changes rapidly below them, the fields and meadows giving way to more mountainous terrain before finally, gradually, falling away into the flatness of the northern lands. Ahead of them looms the massive wall of ice, the distinctive structure bordering the entire southern edge of the kingdom.
He makes his way unerringly towards that colossal edifice until eventually they pass over the top of the wall marking their entrance into the kingdom. He begins to drift downwards then, the plains below them vast and snow covered, the only distinctive sights within the entire kingdom being the wall and the hills containing the kingdom’s caves rising in the distance. In the summer months, a river could be seen wending its way towards the sea. In the winter months, that very river is frozen and covered in snow, barely distinguishable from the rest of the flat landscape.
When he lands, he settles his wings against his sides once more, waiting until the Tundra’s latest newcomer has come close enough to hear his words.
”Welcome to the Tundra.”
He is thoroughly grateful that the darker stallion seems to have no inclination towards wasting time. As the other man gives his decision, Hurricane dips his head slightly to the two mares before turning to lead the way to the Tundra. Dark gaze fixing onto Corruption, he unfolds his wings from his side.
”If you’ve no objection, I thought we might fly. Faster that way.”
That said, he turns away, leaping into the sky, pale wings beating strongly to gain the necessary altitude. He glances back briefly, hoping the other man has followed his lead.
The landscape falls away beneath them, the horses dotting the meadows shrinking into the smallest of points, the trees and hills disappearing into a distant mass of white interspersed by shades of brown. The wind whips around them, stronger up here, tangling Hurricane’s pale locks, ruffling his thick coat and downy feathers. He nearly smiles, though the singular joy of becoming one with the sky does not quite win out over the sternness of his features.
The land changes rapidly below them, the fields and meadows giving way to more mountainous terrain before finally, gradually, falling away into the flatness of the northern lands. Ahead of them looms the massive wall of ice, the distinctive structure bordering the entire southern edge of the kingdom.
He makes his way unerringly towards that colossal edifice until eventually they pass over the top of the wall marking their entrance into the kingdom. He begins to drift downwards then, the plains below them vast and snow covered, the only distinctive sights within the entire kingdom being the wall and the hills containing the kingdom’s caves rising in the distance. In the summer months, a river could be seen wending its way towards the sea. In the winter months, that very river is frozen and covered in snow, barely distinguishable from the rest of the flat landscape.
When he lands, he settles his wings against his sides once more, waiting until the Tundra’s latest newcomer has come close enough to hear his words.
”Welcome to the Tundra.”
There is never a day that goes by
that is a good day to die.
Hurricane
@[Corruption]