Quote:
Kharjak wiped a bead of sweat off of his furrowed brow. The sun was high in the clear blue sky, and it warmed the sea of sand surrounding the man to an almost unbearable heat. The horse underneath him pranced uneasily, stirring the dust up into the air. Kharjak leaned forward and patted the horse’s neck. “Easy Al, easy.” The hand quickly retracted into the tan cloak he wore, ragged and torn at the edges from use. It draped down over the padded riding saddle and ended near his dark brown riding boots, resting in silver stirrups. A gust of wind whipped the sand up into Kharjak’s face, irritating his skin. The skin was dark from a life in the sun and toughened from the weather. A small scar ripped through the corner of his thin lips and reached down into the short beard that had grown as a result of not shaving. Three more scars dragged down his right eye, jagged and rough. The fifth and final scar started at his left ear and ran down along his jaw line. There were many more scars littered on his body, but Kharjak made sure they were never seen. His hair was short and chocolate brown, cut short in a messy, spikey fashion. Kharjak drew his hood over his hair and his mask up onto his face, leaving only a pair of shimmering gold eyes peeking out through the cloth.
“Kharjak, we need to get moving.” The horse, Algiers, had turned his head to communicate his rider. His dark eyes were scanning the endless desert looking for things human eyes could not see; sensing things the man atop his back was not able to. His black mane was matted with sweat, sticking to patches of brown and white hair. Algiers was trying to stay calm, but the itch of an impending storm had gotten under his skin. It was making it impossible to stand still. Kharjak nodded and gave him a gentle nudged. The horse started into an easy trot, making sure he stayed balanced on the shifting sand.
Hundreds of tiny grains, disturbed by the sudden movement, tumbled down the sandy dune until they came to a stop halfway down. But a breeze picked them up again and carried them further down the dune. They were only able to rest for a minute before they were forced to move yet again. Such was the life of a grain of sand. Always moving, and never stopping.
“Kharjak, we need to get moving.” The horse, Algiers, had turned his head to communicate his rider. His dark eyes were scanning the endless desert looking for things human eyes could not see; sensing things the man atop his back was not able to. His black mane was matted with sweat, sticking to patches of brown and white hair. Algiers was trying to stay calm, but the itch of an impending storm had gotten under his skin. It was making it impossible to stand still. Kharjak nodded and gave him a gentle nudged. The horse started into an easy trot, making sure he stayed balanced on the shifting sand.
Hundreds of tiny grains, disturbed by the sudden movement, tumbled down the sandy dune until they came to a stop halfway down. But a breeze picked them up again and carried them further down the dune. They were only able to rest for a minute before they were forced to move yet again. Such was the life of a grain of sand. Always moving, and never stopping.
And from me experimenting with a Soq I'm currently questing. This was done a few months ago.
Quote:
Azumet blinked slowly. His eyes stared blankly at the canyon wall in front of him. He had fallen into the canyon after a bad run-in with one too many Skinwalkers. His smooth brown hair was dark with sweat and his own blood. His breathing was ragged and labored, his wings broken and bloody. Despite his efforts to stay awake, his eyelids began to slip down over eyes. Finally he was unable to keep them open, and the flashback of his attack began to replay in his mind over and over and over….
They had snuck up on him. Two lions, roaring with hunger and bloodlust. Azumet had felt the stinging claws dig into his back and rip through his skin. He bucked, jumped, thrashed, anything to get it off his back. Finally the cat was dislodged, thrown onto the ground. He should have run. He should have jumped up into the air and flown away. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let this atrocious creature get away and prey on some innocent little foal. Azumet reared up, hooves flashing in the sunlight. He was going to crush its skull and stop another attack from occurring.
That was when the second cat stuck. It leaped off of the boulder behind him, latching onto his neck. Azumet screamed in pain. He could almost feel a chunk of his neck being torn away. He flailed blindly, his determination to do good now overpowered by the instinct to survive. Azumet felt himself slam into the hard face of a rock. The lion released its grip on his neck with a yowl of pain. Azumet ran himself into the rock face one more time, and the lion fell away from its prey. He was outnumbered and already badly injured, but still he wanted to fight.
A snarl at his right signaled that the other Skinwalker at gotten up. Azumet turned and kicked out at the lion, catching it in the face. He felt the jaw bone crack on impact, and the resounding snap confirmed that his kick had broken bone. Knowing that the first lion would be occupied with its broken jaw, Azumet lowered his head and charged the one that had bit his neck. The horns on his helmet glinted in the sunlight before the slashed into the lion’s body. Blood splashed out into his eyes. Azumet pulled back as the Skinwalker screamed with both pain and anger. He blinked furiously to try and clear his vision, but the hot liquid refused to dislodge itself from his eyelashes.
After that all he could remember was pain. Claws ripped into his delicate wings, teeth dug into legs. Tried as he might, he could not escape. Then he was on the ground, being pinned down as the lions pulled and clawed at his flesh. Panic set into his mind; he was going to die. Azumet flailed and thrashed with a last-ditch effort the all prey animals give right before they die. But the Skinwalkers had him firmly pinned. There would be no escape.
But then a light, brighter than the very sun itself began to shine out from his body. He knew not where it had come from, or how he had called it forth, but he did know that the lions had eased their grip. A sudden surge of strength rushed throughout his body. Azumet willed the light to grow, and it did. The lions hissed, closing their eyes and pawing blindly to try and shield their vision from the light. Azumet picked himself up, shining like a star, and took to the sky.
He had escaped, but he wasn’t able to get far. Blood ran freely from his numerous wounds, dropping to the ground beneath him like rain. After only a minute, the strength he had felt mere seconds before was gone. He had lost too much blood. Azumet crashed down to the ground, falling out of the sky like a rock. His wings bent unnaturally as they came in contact with the ground. But Azumet was too exhausted to let out a cry of pain. His mind was numb and dulled with weakness.
As he drifted off into unconsciousness, the muted sound of hoof beats reached his ears. His last coherent thought before his world went black was a wish, a hope that the Soquili they belonged to were a friend and not a foe.
They had snuck up on him. Two lions, roaring with hunger and bloodlust. Azumet had felt the stinging claws dig into his back and rip through his skin. He bucked, jumped, thrashed, anything to get it off his back. Finally the cat was dislodged, thrown onto the ground. He should have run. He should have jumped up into the air and flown away. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let this atrocious creature get away and prey on some innocent little foal. Azumet reared up, hooves flashing in the sunlight. He was going to crush its skull and stop another attack from occurring.
That was when the second cat stuck. It leaped off of the boulder behind him, latching onto his neck. Azumet screamed in pain. He could almost feel a chunk of his neck being torn away. He flailed blindly, his determination to do good now overpowered by the instinct to survive. Azumet felt himself slam into the hard face of a rock. The lion released its grip on his neck with a yowl of pain. Azumet ran himself into the rock face one more time, and the lion fell away from its prey. He was outnumbered and already badly injured, but still he wanted to fight.
A snarl at his right signaled that the other Skinwalker at gotten up. Azumet turned and kicked out at the lion, catching it in the face. He felt the jaw bone crack on impact, and the resounding snap confirmed that his kick had broken bone. Knowing that the first lion would be occupied with its broken jaw, Azumet lowered his head and charged the one that had bit his neck. The horns on his helmet glinted in the sunlight before the slashed into the lion’s body. Blood splashed out into his eyes. Azumet pulled back as the Skinwalker screamed with both pain and anger. He blinked furiously to try and clear his vision, but the hot liquid refused to dislodge itself from his eyelashes.
After that all he could remember was pain. Claws ripped into his delicate wings, teeth dug into legs. Tried as he might, he could not escape. Then he was on the ground, being pinned down as the lions pulled and clawed at his flesh. Panic set into his mind; he was going to die. Azumet flailed and thrashed with a last-ditch effort the all prey animals give right before they die. But the Skinwalkers had him firmly pinned. There would be no escape.
But then a light, brighter than the very sun itself began to shine out from his body. He knew not where it had come from, or how he had called it forth, but he did know that the lions had eased their grip. A sudden surge of strength rushed throughout his body. Azumet willed the light to grow, and it did. The lions hissed, closing their eyes and pawing blindly to try and shield their vision from the light. Azumet picked himself up, shining like a star, and took to the sky.
He had escaped, but he wasn’t able to get far. Blood ran freely from his numerous wounds, dropping to the ground beneath him like rain. After only a minute, the strength he had felt mere seconds before was gone. He had lost too much blood. Azumet crashed down to the ground, falling out of the sky like a rock. His wings bent unnaturally as they came in contact with the ground. But Azumet was too exhausted to let out a cry of pain. His mind was numb and dulled with weakness.
As he drifted off into unconsciousness, the muted sound of hoof beats reached his ears. His last coherent thought before his world went black was a wish, a hope that the Soquili they belonged to were a friend and not a foe.
