22nd of Spring 514AV
Ball found himself once again in the fields, but this time he found himself sitting on Imass's shoulder with Thorn already in position to attack the flitting crows. Those black buggers of birds were going to regret torturing that poor scarecrow – it's very existence was being mocked by those birds and the squire would just not have that... Inanimate or otherwise, the scarecrow was doing its duty to the people of Syliras... Or attempting to at least... Without help though, well he was going to falter...The three inch squire saw that. As soon as a crow settled on the ground, its little black beak pecking away at the ground for small seedlings and the sprouts that haven't quite made it above ground to thrive the Pycon squire pushed his mount into action.
Thorn was heavy, but Ball's determination to conquer these black winged pests was stronger. Sadly though the birds were faster than Imass and the point of Thorn barely flicked a loose feather that drifted from the crow's hurried take-off out of Ball and Thorn's reach. Drats... Wheeling around on Imass the pycon growled and charged again, he would do this all day until the crows either flew off in fright of the clay terror, were slain in each pass that Ball made, or Ball got so tired he couldn't last any longer... But he was a squire, and he was going to succeed, or die trying. How ironic would that be? Death by determined actions that led to exhaustion... Shaking his head to rid himself of those thoughts the pycon spurred his furry dog faster and harder, the panting beast of burden took the nudges into consideration and with each push off the dog was ripping up dirt and weeds...
Ball found himself once again in the fields, but this time he found himself sitting on Imass's shoulder with Thorn already in position to attack the flitting crows. Those black buggers of birds were going to regret torturing that poor scarecrow – it's very existence was being mocked by those birds and the squire would just not have that... Inanimate or otherwise, the scarecrow was doing its duty to the people of Syliras... Or attempting to at least... Without help though, well he was going to falter...The three inch squire saw that. As soon as a crow settled on the ground, its little black beak pecking away at the ground for small seedlings and the sprouts that haven't quite made it above ground to thrive the Pycon squire pushed his mount into action.
Thorn was heavy, but Ball's determination to conquer these black winged pests was stronger. Sadly though the birds were faster than Imass and the point of Thorn barely flicked a loose feather that drifted from the crow's hurried take-off out of Ball and Thorn's reach. Drats... Wheeling around on Imass the pycon growled and charged again, he would do this all day until the crows either flew off in fright of the clay terror, were slain in each pass that Ball made, or Ball got so tired he couldn't last any longer... But he was a squire, and he was going to succeed, or die trying. How ironic would that be? Death by determined actions that led to exhaustion... Shaking his head to rid himself of those thoughts the pycon spurred his furry dog faster and harder, the panting beast of burden took the nudges into consideration and with each push off the dog was ripping up dirt and weeds...
Created goes to Euthisa
