The sand mountains of The Dunes are home to the painted stallion. Each cliff was hell and torture to the old stallion but it was home. He suffered a lot here. The lack of food and the lack of water kept him moving, ever moving. He searched for water and he searched for food. He was always on the go but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Each step took him further from his thoughts and from his memories. This was a welcomed reprieve from the bay and white stallion. He was constantly under attack and he hated it but he also lived for it. The memories that destroyed him were the memories that kept him on the straight and narrow.

Each grain of sand was his, truly his and he couldn’t believe that he was once again the ruler of a land. The Dunes may be his own personal hell but he enjoyed it. At least he had a place to call his own. For the time being he seemed to be the only wanderer but he didn’t have much issue with that. While he would enjoy the company of another quite immensely at this point in time, he wasn’t hopeful. The scents on the wind were faded and the few scents he could still pick up were all male, speaking of male! There was a new scent on the horizon and while he wasn’t truly surprised by it, he was intrigued. Veteran Soldier didn’t think another could brave the sands like he could, but perhaps he was wrong.

Sliding down a sandy mountain with grace (his haunches tucked beneath him and his front legs still as he slides) he wonders who could have paid him a visit. He’s still fairly new around these parts, so he doubts that the kings from the other lands popped by to say hello. Most of them were off with their females or off fighting other stags that they were probably not in the least bit concerned about the new guy on the block. Still, he was excited to have a bit of company. Despite him finding a way to block the memories for a bit, they always came back and when they did they came back with a vengeance.

The afternoon sun was vicious on the painted male. Her rays scorched his dark fur and made him feel like he was burning in her flames; yet he did not try to find a new place. As much as he hated the heat he loved the sense of hell and death that surrounded him. The evil that lurks in the darkest depths of his heart enjoyed the heat and enjoyed the harshness of it all. It hoped for death, not for them but for others. It wanted to dine of their flesh and drink their souls. Veteran was unaware of this darkness lurking inside him but he had met it once before. He had been a young stag then and easily impressed. Now, he was old and now he was hard to impress. He’s seen it all and at the very least doesn’t much care for the company of other men.

The gap between the two strangers is closing. As he nears he hears a cry and knows that the other is seeking him out. Why? He doesn’t quite know but he continues on his trek. He is closing the gap between the two of them rather quickly. His light trot is getting him where he needs be at a nice clip despite his hooves sinking into the soft and dark sand. The cry was hoarse and the king is quick to put together that the young male has just freshly arrived onto his home. He does not yet know of the evil that lurks in the ground but he will not spill that secret, at least not yet. For now he would gladly give him a place to stay (and due to his age and to the fact he knows a lone stallion is always in danger of being attacked) he will perhaps make him his second in command. He just has to make sure he isn’t some blood thirsty monster. He is so very sick of those.

Before too long he finds himself looking at a black male. His new friend was just a hair taller than him and slightly more built perhaps and quite a dark color, but he seemed friendly enough. Sending out a call in greeting (a friendly one mind you) he picks up his pace to close the gap between them. As soon as he is just a foot away he comes to a dead stop and offers his maw in greeting. Once the greeting has been fulfilled he holds his head up proudly and watches the other stallion closely. Greetings stranger. Welcome to The Dunes. I am the leader of this sandy home. I am Veteran Soldier. What brings you to my little plot of land? his vocals are deep (think rich bass tone) and gruff but he manages to keep it as friendly as possible.

Silence falls between them for the time being and Veteran isn’t in a rush to ruin it. He knows his new found buddy will speak when he’s ready. Plus the journey over from the mainlands isn’t exactly easy. He remembers making that journey himself and he was lucky in the fact he was the first to claim it after the last king decided to go after his mother or some jazz like that. He was a little worried about the lack of appearance by any of the remaining females, but he planned on changing that here soon. Oh so very soon.

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