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.
caught in the crossfire
Posted on August 15, 2014 at 05:22:20 PM by O R H A N



☪
ORHAN

With hardened resolve, Orhan swam like he had never swum before. Though his nostrils stung with salt, and his eyes burned almost too badly to hold open, he battled onward, cutting through the choppy waves with swift, hard strokes of his legs. Both he and the sea were angry today, but his anger had a definitive purpose, and he would not allow his plan to go awry because of something as trivial as being drowned. Not today. Mother nature may howl and scream all she likes; she is the least of my concerns.

Even still, Orhan was no god - only a horse - and so, by the time he spied land on the horizon through bleary, stinging tears, he felt relief. He visibly trembled as he pulled himself onto shore and snorted water from his lungs, which sent him into a long, laborious coughing fit. Between gasps for breath, he lamented the fact that the nearest oasis, with its freshwater shores choked with green, was not closer. Two years ago he had washed up on this same shore near death; ever since then, his stamina had not been as great as it had once been: a fact which he often liked to forget.

When he had collected himself, he took a moment to look back out to sea, where the water reflected a stormy grey sky. He sighed, then moved on.

He travelled inland, the wind at his back and the sand slipping beneath his hooves, but he had not travelled far when he caught an unfamiliar scent. Orhan stopped in his tracks, gut jumping into his throat, and turned to inhale the breeze. There was something else there, laced amongst the musk of the stranger: his mother? Tired and thirsty as he was, he could not ignore that: he could only clench his teeth and pray that his energy reserves would hold out a little longer.

The scent led him back toward the beach, but not quite in the direction he had come from - instead he found himself trotting further west, toward a strip of coast he rarely visited except during patrols. As the land evened out beneath his feet, he finally saw them: two dark figures, one standing over the other, and one of whom he would have recognized anywhere. That she had escaped unharmed from their previous encounter caused him only momentary relief before anger and fear gripped him again.

Clenching his teeth, he erupted into a gallop and made straight for them, eyes wild and heart hammering in his chest. "Ana!" he cried sharply as he neared them, the word rolling off his tongue like a crack of thunder. He barely registered any detail of the stranger on the ground, or the fact that there was no evidence of blood anywhere - he could think only that his mother was at it again, attacking horses without warning. Perhaps in that sense Maslakhat had been right; maybe he was good at making assumptions after all.

"Stop whatever you're doing - just stop it!" he told her as he slid to a halt, kicking wet sand up into the air. The little boy within him quailed in reticence as he flattened his ears and snaked his head at her, but thinking of A'idah gave him strength. "We need to talk, Ana."

ARABIAN / AKHAL-TEKE / MUSTANG - 15’1 - EE Aa nCr - FIVE - EL ARAN x ENCANTADOR - SHIVA


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