Common

It seemed angry stallions were the only thing Ash was cut out for. At least he spoke, even if it was grunted, while the mare thankfully displayed some friendliness. Her words were strange though. Ashteroth had no idea what a plow horse was, or a farm. Never leaving the Islands, she could only assume it was things from the mainlands. Maybe she could ask Khar’pern if she had ever heard of such things before? Perhaps these strangers could teach her, and she could impress the Prime Minister with her knowledge? The Peak mare was getting ahead of herself though, her eyes remaining fixed on the stallion who perceived her as clearly a threat.


Ashteroth could be a threat if she wanted; Loupgaru knew that firsthand.


From one obsession to the next, Ash wasn’t staying focused on the task at hand. She gave a soft snort, before answering the both of them. “My name is Ashtroth, and I am from the Peak. We are protectors, offering sanctuary to mares and fighting for the freedom of those that can’t. That is why I don’t whisk you away to my evil lair.” Because she didn’t have one. “I can offer you protection, Axelle. But all I can offer is confinement to you, Octavius. My sisters are not so considerate of stallions.” Clearly he was protective of the pale mare, but at what cost was he willing to pay?


ASHTEROTH