Falls

The isles had proven to be a strange amalgamation of personalities. There was no order; no fear. This would be something that he would temper with time and careful strategy. Slow and steady would be the best way for his brand of poison to blacken and corrupt the hearts of the locals. Sith, unlike his brothers back home, lacked the strength to crush everything under his hoof. He did, however, make up for this in other ways.

Instead of deciding to chase women and approach the other leaders to make deals, instead, the near-black stallion decides to simply… explore. To get a lay of the land, to become more familiar with the locals. If he was going to accomplish anything here, he needed a number of things; a local who he could coax into feeling a sense of security in his presence. Someone who could illuminate the weaving paths that set out before him.

For they would be his ultimate key to success…

The stallion seemed lost in his own thoughts, because when he came to? He doesn’t recognize the meadow anymore. He does, however, recognize the fresh and cleansing scent of the falls. He was glad to have rolled in the water after freshly pulling himself from the sea, or else his skin would feel raw and sour from the salt that would have dried to him.

His crimson tassels flick aside and splash against his obsidian thigh. Quietly the strange stallion gives pause, observing the individuals who came and went… He seemed to be waiting for something... Or at least, looking for something, for he scrutinized each individual for something of importance.