Post by Noi on Jan 1, 2007 13:20:17 GMT -5
The blue waters mesmerized the stag that stepped upon the washed up sand of time. The stars lingered in the sky, blanketted with a thick layer of navy hues. The sands were of an aray of many earthy colors, orange and yellow, beige and the darkest of browns. Peculiar shells were arranged, or rather scattered across the moist land. There was a salty aroma that filled the wasping air, carried into his paperthins by means of transportation made possible by the presence of the cool ocean breeze. The moon held it's stance high above all, and in Mage's opinion, where it should have been. He was a strange light, and favore the grace of the twilight and night rather than the sun's presence. He believed night was a spiritual time of day, where the curtains shut out the blinding light and a calmer sun was brought forth to watch over the walkers of the night. The beauty of the time was also one to cherish, more precious than the most valuable of stones, more than the most gorgeous of beings, more than the most saught after mare. The moon was his love, and this was the land to find it, oh yes. To see the moon's reflection distorted on the rippling waves of the ocean was a sight to see.
His shackles hit the sand. Yes, his shackles. You see, Mage was one of the heaveners who believed the body was only a prison to the soul, but one who let themselves fall willingly had no soul at all. This was why he had never tried to slaughter himself, or rather his prison, already. Anyway, his shackles his the sand, creating a sound that had not been heard for years in the land. The sand's crunching beneath his heels gave way to a print, revealing his presence in the lands to any travelers that would step onto it after him. His alabaster coat shined in the moonlight, illuminated by the stars and fog that came off the ocean. The fog wasn't thick, and he could still see far ahead of him. It was simply and thin layer near the knees, nearly invisable any higher than that point. Muscles revolved easily beneath his skin, his strength easily seen. He was a strong stag, and could have passed off well as a dark follower, but his soul was that of the heavener. He would never become the hellish prisoner of misery that the majority of the heart lands remained. He would defy that fate till the end.
As he came to his desired destination, in the center of the lands, his upper half became air born, and he lashed out with strong stilts. He kept this up for a long enough time to speak of his claim, his chords rippling as his voice roared through the lands with new found power and a worthy tyrant, found in Twilight Seaspray,
"I, Mage, claim Twilight Seaspray as my own. I shall cherish this land as if it were my own kin, beneath my wing. I shall become the first heavener tyrant in the heart lands, and have my waywith darkness that dares to harm those who look to me to protect them. If any being objects, step forth and let us step into the battle lands."
With this he fell back down to his still towering seventeen hand height, taking in the scent of his new territory. When he felt no other presence come forth, he felt the title come to his name and his land. This was now his, and he was now leader of the Twilight Seaspray Herd.