The Lost Islands
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Your King
Asmodeus
Your Queen
Nyimara
The Second
None
The Herd
Name, Name, Name
The Sub-Herd
Name, Name, Name
Allies
Name (Land)
Enemies
Solomon (Cove)
The Rules
  • There will be no fraternizing with enemies. If you put yourself knowingly in danger, don't expect a rescue.
  • We are only as strong as our weakest link. See to it that you are getting stronger in some skill that is useful, whether it is battling, recruiting, charming, etc.
  • The King and Queen have final say in all matters.
.inglorious. // any
Posted on February 8, 2012 at 08:20:36 AM by Mellow

THE SUN KING
.stallion. .8 years. .red dun. . warmblood mutt. .16.1h. .vagrant.



The warmth of the baked ground was a welcoming sensation upon his heel as he strode forth, lazily beading his way through the shafts of heat that curtained over the earth as writhing veils of shifty air. His hooves were hollow upon the chapped terra, a sound that scuttled off into the infinite distance, the one that seemed to distend into accredited eternity. The connected tendons and hinged bones contracted beneath his flesh, the muscling about his chest, shoulders and hind creating robust ridges and shadowy contours against the brightness of his coloring, suede curves to outline his overall bulk. A Warmblood he seemed to be, juicy with substantiality to his silhouette; a heaviness to his form crafted solely of sinews, the layering of tissues that built up from fighting consistently. He was stocky yet moderately tall at the same time, his adequate legs rising up into an uphill physique of imposing shoulders and crowned, hulking hindquarters connected by a bony torso. It was over this frame he wore a feverishly orange pelt, the saturated type hued by coppery ore upon his points and crimson fibers that lavishly flowed from his crest and dock.

In his old home, the volcanic, ashen valley of his origins, Mellow had stood out almost a sore thumb, the male that your eyes could not miss. Amongst the grays of the charred cypress trees and the blackened earth quilted in lava, he was a figment of radiance, the male that totted an elevated self carriage and a lightness that seemed almost Arabic. In that moment however, the round perkiness of his strides was gone, replaced by the drag of his toes over the parched dirt, the laziness of his muscles as they absently shifted his limbs. The sun beat down directly upon him in hot beams, the touch of it igniting the myriad of healed scars and lacerations upon him, morphing them into strings of incandescence, like pearlen necklaces. It made his mane and tail, longer and thicker than they had ever been, into pigments of flame that jostled here and there, occasionally moving with his eerie stride. In a blink, his eye rose up to the solar king upon its azure perch, its stare unblinking as it further cooked the realm into barrenness. He snorted as if to say something to the fiery star, his expressive skull rising ever so slightly until he shook his neck, tossing his hairs in all directions.

This was now his place of residence, his home beneath Encantador, a youthful male in which Mellow highly respected. The desert was his first taste of stability amongst the chain of islands, having been thrown there by the hands of fate itself. Time had gone on since then however, and it seemed as if his recollections were returning, dancing just out of reach from his groping mental fingers. His mind, which had once been a befuddled whirl, had now quieted, adjourned to its formal logic and serenity - or so he hoped. With a frisk of his tail, he broke into a trot, his strides long and flashy, his forehand light as he shoved off from his quarters. He beat the ground in ease beneath the spring sky, headed in the general direction of the morning horizon, locks of dust foaming in the wake of his heels. The heat did little to bother him really, the feel of it pressed on his flesh like that of an old friend’s embrace. He enjoyed it in truth, the reason as to why he then pressed himself into a canter, permitting the flow of his speed to gain until a comfortable stir of air currents brushed his face.

As if in haste, he drummed over the terra, pounding on the already visible cracks and causing them to shiver. The stallion tucked his chin down to the twin lumps of power upon his chest, watching his legs as they blurred beneath his sienna glower. He ate up the miles between himself and the water spot at the desert’s heart, destroying the distance as if he couldn’t last another breath without a taste of the warmed aqua. Only when he saw its smudge before his nose did he collect himself, pacing the momentum he had gained and wrangling his limbs beneath him. At a trot, he came over the bank, his handsome skull dropped forward upon a neck thickened by hormones, the sun causing his lithe shadow to dissipate almost completely. With a small exhale, Mellow brought his toes to the receding waters, the mirror image of his face still foreign, as if the creature he was happened to be unfamiliar. He touched his whiskers to the liquid and then parted his lips, swallowing slowly but surely beneath the underbelly of the heavens. With the last mouthful safely settled in the pit of his stomach, he allowed his head to raise, standing ankle deep in his own reflection, one that readily told tales of violence - stories he could not retell. In a reverberating sigh, he sloshed back out to the sandy bank, the one dimpled with stones that hid in their grains. From there, he faced out and stood under the cloudless atmosphere, neck in keel with his withers and a hind hoof toed into the earth.

M E L L O W


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