In Dire Straits

Day broke over a quiet land, and what was to be said?  The Valley's giants slumbered endlessly like the old gods of a lovecraftian horror. Cosmic and ageless, they wouldn't miss this one pawn. As the air chilled over his back, the winds stirred for a new change beckoning beyond the borders of this forgotten place.

He'd remember it, through reptilian eyes, and mind haunted by images of a pale, lovely face. His ghost hidden among the reeds and cradling their children. Majority would be eternal.

The wind whipped again as an overcast sky glowed, otherworldly above him. Venomous green eyes looked ahead to an unknown horizon, it spelled a promising future for him as he made his way through the scar of the burnt forest maze. The very faint smell of a border and he walked over them, even if hesitant at first. Freedom called, however there was something shadowy lurking from behind. Stalking and trying his hand at being menacing. "Go away, you little shit." The old captain snorted, turning his head slightly to the inky form of the judge.

The little hornet of the valley, a gross little worm with his barred teeth and ugly sneer. "These are MY lands, the Valley's lands. You're leaving!" A brow raised from the large slate colored brute, as Ronove snorted derisively though didn't make a move to stop the other. "YOUR lands? That sounds a bit like treason to me, Judge Pathos... Jitte? Whatever the fuck you are. I'm just going for a walk." Tatari grumbled, a threat looming not far behind, turning again and walking on and out.

He was the dark mare on this pale grim day, a carrion bird picking at the scraps of meatless corpse and hoping for the best. There was no rhyme of reason why creatures like this existed and lived as long as they did. He had no right, he had done awful things, and yet he flourished albeit, skinny and vicious. Snapping his jaws at any opportunity.

Ronove was a creature dedicated to himself after all, eyes aimed for a crown that never graced his head, but if he waited out the storm long enough he could rip it out the jaws of their leaders. This was a kingdom of silence and death, no one but the sick quietness that tortured his mind. BUT STILL HE WAS HERE!

Lurching for his crown of thorns, he'd rule over a kingdom of no one, of death and stagnancy as long as it meant he had power. A fancy title, he'd be all the Roses. Who was left to stop him? He'd spy familiar colors and follow after, teeth gnashing ad growling as he paced the border watching Tatari's fading form. "LEAVE! WE DON'T NEED YOU! RETURN AND I WILL KILL YOU MYSELF!" The little judge cried, wild eyed with spittle dripping from foamed lips.

"LONG LIVE OUR GREAT VALLEY!" Dashing forward, but stopping at the edge of the border as if repelled by some unseen force, he snarled loudly, though Tatari gave little care other than a simple flick of his tail. "There is no honor or glory in ruling a kingdom of ghosts, you moronic flea. Long fucking live." He heard the words called back to him, as the pale colors of blue-purple slipped beyond the treeline.

There was a thunder in his chest and drumming in his ears, pinprick pupils searching for a moment, lips curling and the darkling male would spit upon the border, turning back to walk into the barren plains.