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Posted: Fri Dec 05, 2014 1:25 pm
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Posted: Fri Dec 05, 2014 2:40 pm
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Wrath was, for once, in the death section of the tower rather than the famine part. As much fun as his experiences were with the nomadic, desert dwelling and often times decrepit famine clansmen, sometimes he just needed a day of recuperation, his body requiring a chance to cleanse itself off toxic substances. Of course, that didn't mean he was completly sober either, as the hulking ashen soldier could be seen stalking the pathways, a flask in hand and a frown that furrowed his brows as he nursed a wicked headache.
Still, what was in the flask itself, beyond that it was probably alcoholic, as a mystery, though it was mostly meant to take the edge off of the pain in his head and nothing more.
The area that he traversed in today was rather new to him, or perhaps he just didn't remember walking this particular path before. There were dwellings, many which appeared uninhibited, likely waiting the return of more horsemen who were either led astray, or had just yet to return home.
If that's what this could even be considered as. Still, he supposed it was better than nothing, but could it truley be home when he was still so alone?
Dangerous ponderings, and one that was washed away with another long swig from his flask, as charcoal smudged eyes drifted towards an open door, and the sounds escaping from within. Curious, he meandered nearer to the dwelling, peering in only a split second before the smell hit him and lurched his hungover belly, a fist going to his mouth as his face paled.
Normally, the smell of beer was welcome. Today, it was mostly just sickening, and he immediately regretted that the current contents of his stomach, a headache preferable to vomiting up what he had been drinking all morning.
He managed to fight back the nausea, however, his brow shining with sweat as he removed his hand from his mouth and slapped it instead against the door frame, eyes trained on the figure within who's back was currently facing him.
" 'Lo! I could not help but notice that you have a great many barrels in your possession!" He called out, a thought niggling at the back of his head.
And then, quite suddenly, eyes squinted into the dimness of the room from where he stood. "Borr?"
He'd heard the mans name tossed around that morning, and he'd finally put it together in his pain filled head.
IloveyouDIE it's ok I'm still learning wrath lol
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Posted: Mon Dec 08, 2014 6:53 am
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"Yes!" He was busy currently, rolling one towards a stack in the corner of the room. Borr was a large man in all ways and the large barrels, while heavy, were still of a weight he could lift. He squatted, legs braced and set, and heaved the barrel up with a motion born of strength and momentum to set in it's place. "Kept busy while away..."
The horseman turned, large mitt hands wiping against one another roughly to shake off the stress of the lift. His thick brows lifted hearing his name, "Aye.. I'm Borr."
His face was aged and creased, both with worry and laugh lines, though his eyes were blue and sharp under thick grey brows. He recognized Wrath, at least his face, but he had been gone a long time and many names had drifted away or fallen to the wayside for newer information.
"Returning from the wastes.." Borr chuckled and ran a hand through his long beard before approaching. He'd yet to think much on their new home and what it really meant. His return was an attempt to also rise from melancholy but he'd yet to find such positive lift in any he'd seen here. "Pardon me, brother, but I can't quite place your name."
He held out a hand for a shake.
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Posted: Sun Dec 28, 2014 9:51 pm
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It was with great effort that he straightened, forcing himself to stand on his own two feet without a door frame to support his muscular mass. He continued to squint, his eyes still needing time to adjust to the difference in light between the inside of that great, beer scented room and the bright outdoors. When the other stallion spoke, it was in a rumble that bared familiarity, and before the affirmation was given, Wrath knew that he had been correct in his guess.
"Borr!" He said the name happily this time, a large (yet somewhat strained) smile stretching across his face as he took a heavy step into the room, steel armored boots clinking against the wooden floor. His flask was tucked away, and he spread his arms open wide. "It is good to see you returned!"
When the hand was extended, Wrath took it without pause, the metal claws that encased his thumb and forefinger perhaps digging in slightly as he clasped the other stallions hand in his own. "Ah yes, my apologies. We were not close so I suppose you may not remember me. Rathsvith, or more commonly known as Wrath." He (re?)introduced himself with a deep chuckle.
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Posted: Tue Dec 30, 2014 11:26 am
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More laughter as Wrath easily succumbed to the hug, giving what he got in return with a hearty slap to the other mans back as well. It had been a great many years since he had last seen the other stallion, so many, in fact, that it was actually quite hard to recall just when that had been. However, Wrath had always been good at remembering faces and names, even those whom he had not been good friends with.
And, seemingly, being hungover hadn't impacted this only somewhat useful skill.
When he pulled away it was with a smile that had dimmed somewhat, and a nod of his head. "Ah yes, days that will be long missed. A distraction would prove much more useful to me now." Wrath had, after all, only learned of the isles demise much more recently, having been out in the human world on a mission, forgotten about, and when finally remembered, bid to come home.
Except home wasn't exactly where he had expected it to be.
He was still dealing with the grief of losing his father and siblings, a rawness that was as fresh now as it had been on the day of his return. A grief that showed often, whether in hollow eyed stares or fits of destruction filled rage. Drinking as often as he did likely didn't help, though he thought that it did, because it at least mellowed the pain.
"A tavern?" He perked up again at that. "We could use one of those around here. Best drink I can find is among the tents of famine, but it would be nice to enjoy a good, strong, death brew once more." A flash of teeth in a grin, and his gaze was going to the barrels.
"Do you need a hand with anything?"
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Posted: Tue Jan 13, 2015 8:57 pm
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"Ah, that it may be." He affirmed with a nod of his head, reaching up to stroke at his beard with the metal claws adorning his thumb and forefinger. "But it has done wonders for obliterating all thought from my head when needed." The admission was easy. He was not one to hide things, about himself, about how he felt about things, or even about how he coped.
He gave the room a second look over, a change in conversation welcome, though previous topics could be revisited if Borr wished. Reaching out with his hand, he slapped it down on top of the wooden table, leaning against it heavily. "A fair few, depending on their size." He grinned, quite aware that he and Borr were both of the larger sort, as were many other guardians and soldiers of death, it seemed.
"Of course, brother." He pushed himself away from the table. "What kind of neighbor would I be if I did not provide some assistance? Even late as I am." He moved towards the indicated barrels, bending and reaching down to wrap burly arms around one, grunting slightly as he lifted, his legs straightening beneath him, the muscles in his arms taut. For a moment, he pondered the question, and how best to answer.
"I only arrived a few months ago, to the piece of land that Halloween donated, the so called reserve of the lost clans." Not lost any longer, it seemed, as they had a new place to call their home.
"Since then, I suppose a great many things have changed. The High Priestess, Medea, seeking power and high station, took on Death himself...and won."
He wasn't sure if Borr had already heard of all of this, but if he hadn't, Wrath imagined the stallion would need a little time to let that news settle.
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