Post by Alexander Egon von Clockwise on Feb 25, 2014 11:10:48 GMT -5
Near Lemuria
Egon dropped to the ground, exhausted from the long journey. Though young and fit, he still tended to over do everything he did. This time he had ridden three days without stop, other than a few minutes for necessities. His large dapple gray stallion slept where he had been tethered to a tree. Egon had cared for the stallion as soon as they stopped, throwing the gear in a pile and rubbing down the tired animal. After providing fresh food and water for both the horse and himself, he had laid out a small pile of covers that he had gratefully fallen into. He had taken off his armor, and his leather breast plate. His bare chest heaving with his heavy breathing, and covered in sweat. He still wore his thick pants, but knew he should have left his armor on. He was in the Wilds after all, and it was nearing night. There was still some light in the small clearing he had found, but it was fading, and a cool breeze tickled his worn muscles.
He lay on his back, arms outstretched to either side. He focused on his breathing, trying to clear him mind. He closed his eyes, listening to his surroundings. For now he was alone, only the soft sound of prey that he had startled earlier had started to return. He sat, his muscles twitch in protest, as he reached for his shirt. His sword was in reach, and a dagger was belted to his hip, yet he was overcome with an uneasy feeling, as if something was watching. Suddenly he felt exposed, as his slipped back into his leather protection. He left the heavy metal plates off, but at least he wasn't as vulnerable now. The horse seemed at peace, though it was as tired as Egon himself, likely more so. Sitting up, he looked around running his hand though his hair, his dark chocolate mane a sweaty mess. His silver eye flitting between the trees, scanning for any sign of danger. He regretted now the choice to not rest before. Had he, then they would not be here surrounded by the Wilds at night, weakened and exhausted. Thought hindsight was ever his enemy. He stayed still, fingers itching to arm themselves, yet he waited.
Egon dropped to the ground, exhausted from the long journey. Though young and fit, he still tended to over do everything he did. This time he had ridden three days without stop, other than a few minutes for necessities. His large dapple gray stallion slept where he had been tethered to a tree. Egon had cared for the stallion as soon as they stopped, throwing the gear in a pile and rubbing down the tired animal. After providing fresh food and water for both the horse and himself, he had laid out a small pile of covers that he had gratefully fallen into. He had taken off his armor, and his leather breast plate. His bare chest heaving with his heavy breathing, and covered in sweat. He still wore his thick pants, but knew he should have left his armor on. He was in the Wilds after all, and it was nearing night. There was still some light in the small clearing he had found, but it was fading, and a cool breeze tickled his worn muscles.
He lay on his back, arms outstretched to either side. He focused on his breathing, trying to clear him mind. He closed his eyes, listening to his surroundings. For now he was alone, only the soft sound of prey that he had startled earlier had started to return. He sat, his muscles twitch in protest, as he reached for his shirt. His sword was in reach, and a dagger was belted to his hip, yet he was overcome with an uneasy feeling, as if something was watching. Suddenly he felt exposed, as his slipped back into his leather protection. He left the heavy metal plates off, but at least he wasn't as vulnerable now. The horse seemed at peace, though it was as tired as Egon himself, likely more so. Sitting up, he looked around running his hand though his hair, his dark chocolate mane a sweaty mess. His silver eye flitting between the trees, scanning for any sign of danger. He regretted now the choice to not rest before. Had he, then they would not be here surrounded by the Wilds at night, weakened and exhausted. Thought hindsight was ever his enemy. He stayed still, fingers itching to arm themselves, yet he waited.
