Thran Iavas
12-17-15, 04:47 PM
Bellowing across the emptiness, the lone stag let out a brutish declaration of his defiant presence.
The snow fell thick and fast, covering the world in a white blanket that spilled out in endless lengths to every horizon. Hill and tree both were drenched, and even as the deer walked, revealing some of the earthy ground under his hoof, the snow quickly filled it in again. As he raised his head to roar a second time, doffing his huge antlers to the sky he could not help but remember a time when he had heard a story, a story about a man in red and a night like this. Of a noble elf merchant man, whose sleigh was pulled by many stags just like himself, who roamed the plains in the dead of winter, searching for homes to bring a light of hope to.
Thran Iavas shook his feather-like mane of thick fur about his neck. Lowering his head again he looked around for a fresh root and tugged at one lodged between a tree and shrub. Images of the tales of the elf merchant in red came to his mind again, distinct artful images that had been scribed on the walls of the Hallowed Halls of the Elk Emperor. Indeed, they showed a layout of a landscape just like this one, of Salvaran qualities with low hills and small towns in the valleys. Every so often there was a farmhouse, waiting for the elf merchant's presence and his gifts.
A farmhouse just like the one some mile off which had smoke rising from the chimney. Iavas bellowed again, at it, cementing his presence as known. Holding back a burp he shook his tail, proudly displayed his antlers and strode forwards in the direction of the house, to sate his curiousity. Humamoids, after all, were a curious species.
And that included elves, like the one in red.
The snow fell thick and fast, covering the world in a white blanket that spilled out in endless lengths to every horizon. Hill and tree both were drenched, and even as the deer walked, revealing some of the earthy ground under his hoof, the snow quickly filled it in again. As he raised his head to roar a second time, doffing his huge antlers to the sky he could not help but remember a time when he had heard a story, a story about a man in red and a night like this. Of a noble elf merchant man, whose sleigh was pulled by many stags just like himself, who roamed the plains in the dead of winter, searching for homes to bring a light of hope to.
Thran Iavas shook his feather-like mane of thick fur about his neck. Lowering his head again he looked around for a fresh root and tugged at one lodged between a tree and shrub. Images of the tales of the elf merchant in red came to his mind again, distinct artful images that had been scribed on the walls of the Hallowed Halls of the Elk Emperor. Indeed, they showed a layout of a landscape just like this one, of Salvaran qualities with low hills and small towns in the valleys. Every so often there was a farmhouse, waiting for the elf merchant's presence and his gifts.
A farmhouse just like the one some mile off which had smoke rising from the chimney. Iavas bellowed again, at it, cementing his presence as known. Holding back a burp he shook his tail, proudly displayed his antlers and strode forwards in the direction of the house, to sate his curiousity. Humamoids, after all, were a curious species.
And that included elves, like the one in red.