Post by PASS!ON on Feb 24, 2007 16:00:43 GMT -5
a cold
Pounding of mighty feathery hooves echoed throughout the Snowy Highlands. The monster ... has arrived. A loud snort emmited out of the nares of the beast, the beast that could shrudder the sod. Petite birds whistling in the large trees fled within an instant of the pounding noise. Loud snorting flickered the passing snow covered bushes, as also more critters from underground fled. Dark ebony heud orbs took in the surroundings and at the same time his harks took in the unfamilar sounds. The trees created a blackened surface upon the sod, luckily shading that dreaded sun away from the backs of this beast.
The beast ... the stag ... the brute. Whatever you would call him, he would still behold a name. A name, that will remain a secret, for the time being. But, the body would probably be more important. Large well toned muscles rested inside the skin and pelt of this brute. Never to run low of fuel, these muscles will not stop doing their magic untill the brute falls and there is a sudden stop. A stop, to life. But, life never stood in the stags face ... ever. It was mostly - the opposite. Completley the opposite of course. Death would run through his mind every second, as would power do too. This mind would never be put to rest, only when death actually faces him ... and the cold drop to hell would appear.
Daggers decimiated the snow, and the sod that it laid blanketed upon. The stag had come to a halt from his long jog. Nares flared, as he snorted once more. Deep breaths could be heard ... but no one else could be heard. Fleeing animals left no other noise ... all critters alike had fled. Except for one, except for the one standing amongst the abandoned trees and foliage. It was here ... there was no one else. No one stopping the stag from doing what he had in his twisted mind except the little voice at the back of it. Orbs flicked and checked, no one. Nares sniffed and checked, no one. He was alone ...
Pistons raised in the air, as his daggers could almost hit the leaves that rested upon the stigs. Shrill cry emmited loudly ... daggers sent the leaves fall to the sod. He was here ... Odin was here. And no one would come inbetween that, except from the opposite of life. The thing running around his head ... yes, you guessed it. Death.
and a sudden s t o p
