Call of the Sire[Open to herd members]

[Smoky]

Servin, how the name rolls over one's lips and tongue. The magnificent classic Temok stallion had begun his reign what seemed so long ago. In reality, two things were true. The young stallion had only ruled for a scant month of time, and he really didn't know his herd, just protected it. It was time for him to get to know them, stop being so unattached. The beautiful bay stallion looked over the falls that marked his land for what it was, the Zephyr's falls, so true to their name. The wind played with the black mane, sucking it back and forth over the strand of ivy that ran down his neck. His first major fight. The oak leaf and the labyrinth came from smaller fights, the bird, and the vine from larger ones.

He descended back towards the pines of the falls, ready to meet those which he ruled over, if they didn't object to it and challenge him here and now. Wouldn't he love to see that, himself challenged out of his spot. Servin would meet any foe in battle, ready to earn another marking to grace his hide. The unrest in the other herds sometimes led him to wonder if he should attempt to conquer any of the other herds, to avoid the problems having an ununited continent might bring. But he knew it wouldn't land that way. No one horse should hold more than was his due, and Servin had no use for a continent, especially not one so at war as this one was starting to become. He had to face the truth: The Temok breed was a breed of fighting horses, much like they breed fighting bulls. Boiling hot blood of slayed war horses formed them from the ground, or so the legends went, and so they traced back to that. That boiling blood arose now, as he thought of war. A prime example of his breed, he was a fighter, resembled an Arab horse, had an attitude. He was a perfect Temok, and on occasion it sickened him.

He sent up a cry, ready for company. Harsh, cold, and crystal clear.

"Come children of my herd. Your King awaits." [/blockquote][/size][

[' 'queen katriel]

The mare's onyx orbs rolled over to her left, a stallion chatching her sights. It was a handsome young stag, about her age.

Servin was the first name that came to her mind. Yes, indeed, it was the bay stallion that had come to rule her herd. A blessed one, she had heard. One of the twins.

Her eyes lingered upon his frame, slim but muscular. Not much unlike her, besides their dramatic difference in color. The mare threw him a sly half grin before dipping her head into the moist grass. Looked like he'd be a fun one to mess with. [/size][/size] [/size][/blockquote]

music is what you hear, not what you see xx [/blockquote]