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Description
Featuring Éilias , his father (NPC) and Artaxerxes (NPC)
Autumn, Year 751 of the New Age
Westhaven, Windborne

Again and again the two stags collided. Horns clashing, teeth gritting, they both braced themselves against their opponent. Their hooves cut through the leaves that lay scattered on the mossy floor, throwing little pieces of dirt and grass into the air with every powerful step.
The sun was slowly setting, even though she seemed to dwell a little longer over the treetops, from where she could throw her light down through little gaps within the leafage.
And so, the calm autumn wind did his last patrol though the forest, too. With a hum, he circled the tree trunks and ferns, bidding goodbye to everything and everyone under his care.
But there, the whirl of a fight. Something did interrupt his peaceful evening ritual...
Two of his children, circling each other again and again, their horns meeting in intervals of a few seconds only. Their minds lost so deep in their battle, not even the warm breeze that caressed their skins and pelts, telling them to stop and be peaceful, could detain them from their furious trial of strength.

Blue shadows grew longer and longer, and slowly, the two stags’ limbs grew tired. Both of equal height and strength, they couldn’t determine a winner - and their pride forbade them to give up and back away from the confrontation.
Their adolescent bodies were covered in sweat, but again and again their antlers parted, only to have another go and meet another time with a cracking sound.
One of them, a wiry, but muscular liver chestnut with spots covering his back end, seemed to lack in strength, but he moved his young body with an astounding safety and managed to escape his opponent’s runs with swift movements. Most of the lighter coloured stag’s attacks were so directed into the void.
His limbs were already shaking violently, but he tried to ignore the pain. He wouldn’t stop. Not yet. He would stand his ground as long as necessary. His pride, his honour - strangely, everything was at stake in such a moment.
Murmuring something that was only audible to himself, he circled his opponent again. Their eyes met, and both weren’t surprised at the unforgiving, confident look in the other’s eyes. Both were sure of their success.
Another time, their antlers clashed and broke apart, and for one moment, this chestnut’s rival seemed to hesitate - to catch his breath or to compose himself briefly - and the other didn’t wait for him to regain his composure. With unexpected speed, he collected his legs and rammed them into the ground behind him - pushing his body forward against his opponent’s body.
The other couldn’t respond fast enough, and soon he found himself pushed back by the chestnut’s sheer force of will. Just one more moment was missing, one more push, as the bay was now surprised and thrown out of his balance.
But the push didn’t come - the chestnut’s legs simply gave up. Their antlers still entangled, exhausted to the bone, both stags sank to the ground.

Some moments, they could neither move nor think. The adrenaline that was slowly flowing from their heated, sweat-covered bodies left behind a cruel ache; that, as both stags knew, would only increase over the next few days.
Finally, one managed to speak. “Oh man, what a fight.”
The other snorted. “A shame that no one saw.”
In mutual conformity, they helped each other onto their feet and brushed little pieces of dirt out of their coats.
“You still wanna be a guard?”, the bay asked curiously as they had started their way back home.
“Yeah, sure”, the chestnut remarked with a stoic mien and threw his short mane around with a quick tilt of his head.
“It’s my duty to protect the herd. I hope my father thinks I’m strong enough.”
“You ham it up, mate. The Guard’s a bunch of testosterone-driven clowns”, the other chuckled and friendly bumped his shoulder into his friend’s.

“Your son’s quite talented, I’d say…”
“He’s too ambitioned. I hope he won’t be disappointed if you tell him ‘no’.”
“Oh, I don’t plan to.”
“A 9-year-old, stubborn buck like him?”
“He has got potential and he proved himself several times - hey, I know you are monstrously proud of him. He has what it takes to be a successful guard one day. We’ll be accepting him next summer.”

art and 728 word-story (+ fighting bonus) = + 2 speed + 1 strength
he needs dem stats fo the Windborne scuffles x_x

Art, character (c) by me, no ref used
belong to Ehetere

My tumblr ♥

Description
Featuring Éilias , his father (NPC) and Artaxerxes (NPC)
Autumn, Year 751 of the New Age
Westhaven, Windborne

Again and again the two stags collided. Horns clashing, teeth gritting, they both braced themselves against their opponent. Their hooves cut through the leaves that lay scattered on the mossy floor, throwing little pieces of dirt and grass into the air with every powerful step.
The sun was slowly setting, even though she seemed to dwell a little longer over the treetops, from where she could throw her light down through little gaps within the leafage.
And so, the calm autumn wind did his last patrol though the forest, too. With a hum, he circled the tree trunks and ferns, bidding goodbye to everything and everyone under his care.
But there, the whirl of a fight. Something did interrupt his peaceful evening ritual...
Two of his children, circling each other again and again, their horns meeting in intervals of a few seconds only. Their minds lost so deep in their battle, not even the warm breeze that caressed their skins and pelts, telling them to stop and be peaceful, could detain them from their furious trial of strength.

Blue shadows grew longer and longer, and slowly, the two stags’ limbs grew tired. Both of equal height and strength, they couldn’t determine a winner - and their pride forbade them to give up and back away from the confrontation.
Their adolescent bodies were covered in sweat, but again and again their antlers parted, only to have another go and meet another time with a cracking sound.
One of them, a wiry, but muscular liver chestnut with spots covering his back end, seemed to lack in strength, but he moved his young body with an astounding safety and managed to escape his opponent’s runs with swift movements. Most of the lighter coloured stag’s attacks were so directed into the void.
His limbs were already shaking violently, but he tried to ignore the pain. He wouldn’t stop. Not yet. He would stand his ground as long as necessary. His pride, his honour - strangely, everything was at stake in such a moment.
Murmuring something that was only audible to himself, he circled his opponent again. Their eyes met, and both weren’t surprised at the unforgiving, confident look in the other’s eyes. Both were sure of their success.
Another time, their antlers clashed and broke apart, and for one moment, this chestnut’s rival seemed to hesitate - to catch his breath or to compose himself briefly - and the other didn’t wait for him to regain his composure. With unexpected speed, he collected his legs and rammed them into the ground behind him - pushing his body forward against his opponent’s body.
The other couldn’t respond fast enough, and soon he found himself pushed back by the chestnut’s sheer force of will. Just one more moment was missing, one more push, as the bay was now surprised and thrown out of his balance.
But the push didn’t come - the chestnut’s legs simply gave up. Their antlers still entangled, exhausted to the bone, both stags sank to the ground.

Some moments, they could neither move nor think. The adrenaline that was slowly flowing from their heated, sweat-covered bodies left behind a cruel ache; that, as both stags knew, would only increase over the next few days.
Finally, one managed to speak. “Oh man, what a fight.”
The other snorted. “A shame that no one saw.”
In mutual conformity, they helped each other onto their feet and brushed little pieces of dirt out of their coats.
“You still wanna be a guard?”, the bay asked curiously as they had started their way back home.
“Yeah, sure”, the chestnut remarked with a stoic mien and threw his short mane around with a quick tilt of his head.
“It’s my duty to protect the herd. I hope my father thinks I’m strong enough.”
“You ham it up, mate. The Guard’s a bunch of testosterone-driven clowns”, the other chuckled and friendly bumped his shoulder into his friend’s.

“Your son’s quite talented, I’d say…”
“He’s too ambitioned. I hope he won’t be disappointed if you tell him ‘no’.”
“Oh, I don’t plan to.”
“A 9-year-old, stubborn buck like him?”
“He has got potential and he proved himself several times - hey, I know you are monstrously proud of him. He has what it takes to be a successful guard one day. We’ll be accepting him next summer.”

art and 728 word-story (+ fighting bonus) = + 2 speed + 1 strength
he needs dem stats fo the Windborne scuffles x_x

Art, character (c) by me, no ref used
belong to Ehetere

My tumblr ♥