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.
the gods contend in vain
Posted on February 14, 2013 at 05:38:45 AM by el aran

Beschea

Since El Aran had first faced the stallion with the curiously curled ears, there had been no sight, sound, or smell of him. Maybe Orhan had been right. Maybe the rains had driven Renaissance away. The reason behind his disappearance mattered little to the slender black mare, and only the fact that he was gone held any importance to her. He had been an unusual horse, and El Aran did not like the unusual. She had gone to one of the smaller oases in the Desert, the little ones that could sustain herself and Orhan for several days but not an entire herd, but his spoor had not been there, either. On her way back from the second oasis, one similarly lacking in evidence to suggest that the boldly patched stallion might still be roaming the sands, she caught whiff of another horse.

Anger spiked her heart rate. She picked up her pace, kicking up sand as she stretched her legs into an easy gallop. How many stallions would wander into her home and proclaim it theirs, try to drive her out and act as if the land could not speak for itself? She was tired of these intruders. Tired of being afraid for the safety of her son —a worry she would always hold deep in her gut, no matter how capable he proved himself to be in defending himself— and tired of wondering how she would defend her home from these men who continued to penetrate the border with no regard for those who already lived there.

Running in the Desert was rarely a good idea. By the time El Aran reached the main oasis, the intruder’s call still hanging in the air, sweat clung to her withers and back. She was hot, her son was somewhere not in her sight, and there was a strange black stallion standing in her oasis. The seer was livid. "Hırsız!"she spat as she came upon him, knocking her chest up against his shoulder as her mouth reached for the muscled part of his neck just below his left ear. Her grip, should it land anywhere on the hide of the intruder, would not relax until he jerked away or his retaliation forced her to let go to further defend herself. At the same time, she struck out once with her left foreleg in an attempt to kick him below the knee.

el aran
Seer of Aşk.

html by russell for uforia


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