To take as one's own... {{Claim}}

[racechick]

Scars tell the best stories...

[/center]

Leo's Scar
T

he eerie call of the ravens bellowed to the fading night sky, the sun kissed the tips of the mountains, shadows concealing his garnet hue as he stepped silently through the trees. They were hunting, the flock of them, waiting for some poor soul to drop dead so that the buzzards could rip the flesh from their still warm, lifeless, bodies. A cheeky grin spread across Scar's maw, pleased with his own wretched thoughts, a throaty chuckle pressing his kissers; that's when he'd peck their bodies; when they were warm. Muscles churned as he picked his way quietly through the frost bitten roots and landscape, careful not to make a sound he didn't want heard, all the while he scoped out an appropriate place to start his reign; yet again. It had been marvelous in his father's land, but he wanted something new. Something, somewhere, he could say he started from scratch, to have something that hadn't been past down to him; something he could take as his own. Again he would need the eager young colts to skirt his land, to pillage surrounding lands, and to join his army, all these things he would teach them, as quickly and precisely as he'd taught his last bunch of empty minded yearlings. The scent of salt touched the air, festering in his nostrils, a corrupt grin coating his muzzle, the ocean would be perfect, he moved more promptly through the timber, breaking into the day's awakening rays. Sunlight shimmered along his now shaggy pelt, glares from the snow bounced up from the earth, disrupting his view; optics narrowing to slits as they adjusted. Miles and miles of sand, the snow along the dunes had melted, leaving the sand immaculate but slightly pasty white; the roar of waves crashed along a surely iced over shoreline not too far from were he stood.
There was little shelter, a scarace amount of food, and very little clean water, possing a new challenge for whatever equine he took here; would they survive? Scar didn't need them to, honestly he couldn't care less, but if he were to have again what was once his he would have to find a way to supply them with nutrients; perhaps an alliance would be in order, as soon as he took what was rightfully his. No scent lingered in the land, and if it had Scar would gladly accept the challenge of a dual for it, an excited cardiac muscle throbbing as it ached for another stag to approach. Another gruff chortle journeyed through his plush lips from the tightening of his vocal cords, profoundly sculpted pillars pushed from the ground, rear columns holding his upright mass steady. "I, Leo's Scar, claim this land as mine! Any who dare attempt to take it should think twice as to if they wish their life be cut short!" Lyrics rumbled about the lands, the raven's taking flight as the booming voice startled their feast, but they didn't leave their dinner for long. Arching his boa neatly, Scar explored his terra, finding nearly every entrance and exit and downed logs near them all; taking his time to block them off, except one. All intruders or forced guests must go through the main way, if some smartass decided they wished to get in another way, there were plenty of other natural obstacles that would prevent them from doing so. The logs he put up, the ocean, the creek that's banks stood roughly eight feet about the brook itself and it's gap nearly the same distance. Pleased with him find, he continued working, preparing the land exactly how he had once before imagined it.
[/center]

Words: 611
Muse: It's there then it disappears...
Other: