All was silent around Dimitra. At the bottom of the cliffs, lightning crackled and thunder boomed, telling the creatures around it to be afraid. Afraid of death, afraid of the one who ruled the land. The sky was forever dark and deafening, shadows cast far out and little tree. The looming rocks raised high above the figure that stood at the top. Now, for his climb to the top. The top of his cliffs. Sturdy, sharp hooves placed upon the ground, slamming and breaking rocks as his legs pulsed to carry him to the bottom. The muscles rolled through his body and piercing black eyes gazed upon the bottom. He reached the lowest, craggiest peak, his hoof steps placed in the rock, never to disappear.
His musky scent lingered over the crackling sky and the dusty ground. Fog circled around his darkened legs as he stood on that peak. Over looking all of the rouge lands. His land might not be the greatest herd, but he had the lowest and the best. Snorting, he pawed at the ground as the fog climbed up his muscular legs. The dark chocolate color of his pelt rippled nicely as he curled his neck toward his chest. Muzzle, charred and scarred like most of his body, lightly touched his chest before it flung up. A loud, shattering cry was emitted into the foggy night and was overheard by the lightning that cracked and the thunder that boomed louder. His body reared up and his daggers pawed at the damp air. Landing on the peak, it started to crumble and he smoothly slid down to a look out a few feet down. Shaking his head, he talked quietly to himself first before bellowing a few words. Words that would let any stallion know to be wary of his land.
[x] Fralsare