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runawayninja
Supernova
- Joined
- Apr 29, 2010
It was a pleasantly crisp morning just before the sun crested over the horizon. A heavy fog clung to the ground, making the land appear murky and gothic. The mist left little to be seen, but much to be heard as there came the clip-clopping of a steed on a trot upon the small side road that branched far from anyplace of note.
The mare, a pure white colored steed with features meant to be a mighty warhorse, was following the road in the hopes that her non-responsive rider would be found by someone and cared for. A pink mess was on the side of her neck, her fur was smeared with the blood of her rider who was slumped forward with an arm leaning limply down her side.
Blood ran along that arm and onto the ground. The young man, dressed in light leather and padded armor, was bleeding badly large arrow in his back, an arrow smeared with poisonous sap and obviously meant for hunting men, not beasts. He was so young to be involved in this war that seemed devoid of any mercy or compassion. He barely looked to be a man and his soft features that bordered on femininity gave the impression that he was not born, but carved from fine marble with artistic perfection, and his pale flesh lent a haunting allure to his youth and beauty.
The mare, a pure white colored steed with features meant to be a mighty warhorse, was following the road in the hopes that her non-responsive rider would be found by someone and cared for. A pink mess was on the side of her neck, her fur was smeared with the blood of her rider who was slumped forward with an arm leaning limply down her side.
Blood ran along that arm and onto the ground. The young man, dressed in light leather and padded armor, was bleeding badly large arrow in his back, an arrow smeared with poisonous sap and obviously meant for hunting men, not beasts. He was so young to be involved in this war that seemed devoid of any mercy or compassion. He barely looked to be a man and his soft features that bordered on femininity gave the impression that he was not born, but carved from fine marble with artistic perfection, and his pale flesh lent a haunting allure to his youth and beauty.