Post by Strong Hold Administration on May 6, 2007 18:44:44 GMT
V1 Description –
O’er the mountains of the northern boarder, ‘is hoof beats thundered down on the turf. In the equine’s hooves was the Neuvil army’s fate. The Neuvil army…It was formed three turnings ago, when the neutrals asked the darks to join the war against the lights. Before then the messenger’s people, the darks, had wanted nothing to do with this latest war. But the neutral’s offer was too good to resist. As much light blood as they could get their hooves on. As the messenger travelled on, he came closer to the entrance of a cave. It was huge, a gaping wound in the face of a rock. On either side were ancient pillars, thousands of years old. But still the carvings on them were clear. Horses rearing and bucking their way up, spiralling round like a patterned ribbon. This was the entrance to the Neuvil’s strong hold. Slowing to a lofty trot, the equine passed through the entrance.
Inside it was dark, lit dimly by torches holding flickering flames of brilliant orange set on the walls. The horse looked about in wonder. As he traversed the hall, he moved deeper into the mountain. He smiled slightly, a cold, cruel smile. On either side of him was a long row of tiny cells, squares carved into the rock with a metal bar front. Inside were several light captives per cell. In front of him was a massive marble and gold plinth, upon it sat a mighty being. Her pelt blazed purest white, her optics were black as night. Her tresses were immensely long, and seemed to have a life of their own. The mare’s harks pricked at the sound of the approaching messenger. Her eyes just stared; she was blind, but very intelligent. The messenger bowed low, his deep bay pelt was like a dead fly. Hers was like the sun, radiant and blazing.
“I bring news from the Light King. He refused our offer…They will go down fighting. They have gone to arms once again; the war is not yet over.” He announced his crania still low. Her anger rose violently in her bod’, and made the air around her pulse fiercely. The messenger stepped back, ears down in fear.
“So it shall be. The lands will be red with the lights blood yet.” ………
O’er the mountains of the northern boarder, ‘is hoof beats thundered down on the turf. In the equine’s hooves was the Neuvil army’s fate. The Neuvil army…It was formed three turnings ago, when the neutrals asked the darks to join the war against the lights. Before then the messenger’s people, the darks, had wanted nothing to do with this latest war. But the neutral’s offer was too good to resist. As much light blood as they could get their hooves on. As the messenger travelled on, he came closer to the entrance of a cave. It was huge, a gaping wound in the face of a rock. On either side were ancient pillars, thousands of years old. But still the carvings on them were clear. Horses rearing and bucking their way up, spiralling round like a patterned ribbon. This was the entrance to the Neuvil’s strong hold. Slowing to a lofty trot, the equine passed through the entrance.
Inside it was dark, lit dimly by torches holding flickering flames of brilliant orange set on the walls. The horse looked about in wonder. As he traversed the hall, he moved deeper into the mountain. He smiled slightly, a cold, cruel smile. On either side of him was a long row of tiny cells, squares carved into the rock with a metal bar front. Inside were several light captives per cell. In front of him was a massive marble and gold plinth, upon it sat a mighty being. Her pelt blazed purest white, her optics were black as night. Her tresses were immensely long, and seemed to have a life of their own. The mare’s harks pricked at the sound of the approaching messenger. Her eyes just stared; she was blind, but very intelligent. The messenger bowed low, his deep bay pelt was like a dead fly. Hers was like the sun, radiant and blazing.
“I bring news from the Light King. He refused our offer…They will go down fighting. They have gone to arms once again; the war is not yet over.” He announced his crania still low. Her anger rose violently in her bod’, and made the air around her pulse fiercely. The messenger stepped back, ears down in fear.
“So it shall be. The lands will be red with the lights blood yet.” ………