15.3hh - Gypsy Vanner - Lead of the Inlet


Cold grips of winter never truly released Tinuvel. As autumn started to move on the cold only tightened its grasp. The waters around the islands were starting to chill and ice. Frost formed on the plantlife of the island and the warm springs steamed even more invitingly in the night.

The vanner stallion walked the shores of his homeland, dark eyes watching the increasingly volatile waves with apprehension. Soon enough those on the island would stay on the island or face treachery in the dark waters around them. It was both a comfort and a concern that many of his herd had taken to roaming the islands. He was never one to limit the freedoms of those around him, but he was worried they had strayed away and fell victim to forces beyond his control. To those who entered his lands, he vowed protection and loyalty within them. He could not promise such things beyond his shores.

He sighed to himself and kicked at the rocky terrain that made up the majority of his home. What was he, when what he stood for was empty? The cry of another horse pierced through the winds as well as his thoughts. It was the sound of another stallion. Instinctually he bolted off in the direction of the sound, his thick mane and tail flying behind him like the banners they were. He came up to Asche and slid to a halt in front of the other man, rocky sand flying up around him.

For a moment he simply looked over the white stallion before him, taking inventory of threats he could pose. Asche had announced himself, a courtesy that was not to be ignored. Pagan nodded his head respectfully to his visitor.

”Greetings. I am Pagan, lead of the Inlet. What brings you to these shores?” His voice was easy and deep. This was a pleasant encounter, no need for threats and posturing.

PAGAN