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Description
dayum, I thought I would have more time >_>

Competition: Mini-event! Wolf's run!
Horse: Velocitron
Breed & Age: Lisqar-Equine | 9
Rider/Handler: Rodaan
Age: old enough
Class: Chaotic cross country
Placing: 6th | Results
Music: Unforgiven - TSFH

WHEW

Story: 1144 words DX

  “You’re a madman,” Kadi informs Rodaan, tossing the information packet to him across the staff table.
“Velocitron will like it. Run fast while attacking things is something he enjoys, believe it or not,” he replies, pulling the packet toward him.
“It’s adorable and strange how much you love him.”
“You have Zaphiare.”
Kadi stands up. “Zaphiare is a sweet, gentle kind soul and yours is demon-spawn. A bit of a difference.”
“We just have an elevated level of understanding,” he insists, smirking with jest. “You wouldn’t understand with your everyday, normal stallion.”
Kadi pauses with the door opened, and leans forward toward him. “Insult him again,” she dares quietly, eyes bright.
Rodaan crosses his arms. “He’s fat,” he says simply, meeting her daring gaze.
She stays very still, not blinking, fighting a faint smile, then steps through the door and closes it slowly. Rodaan smiles and chuckles quietly, looking back at the information packet.
“Havoc,” he mutters the popular nickname for his prime Lisqar stallion, standing. “How ironic.”

Rodaan and Velocitron stood still in the wind at the beginning on the course. From here, nothing looked dangerous. It was cold and the wind made it bite them sharply, but otherwise all was calm. A lazy snowy scene was before them. Rodaan knew better – not exactly what there was, but that this was not what the competition was about. He eyed the landscape warily, searching for any hint that could be seen from the start, as he stroked the big stallion beside him. Havoc was warmed up and anxious to be moving again in the cold. Bored, he snorts and blocks the wind with his own air powers. He had a fur blanket and custom chest piece that lacked a bridle. Havoc wouldn’t tolerate anything on his head.
It was about time to start. Rodaan sighs, not having seen anything out of place in the course ahead.
“Get ready,” he mumbles to Havoc in his native language, grabbing onto the crest of the neck and the blanket and swinging up onto Havoc and settling into the tack, taking the neck strap in one hand and gripping the staff with the other, preparing to use it to fend off elementals, whenever they finally appeared.
Havoc  prances in the light snow and stirs it up around his hooves, earning a warning from Rodaan, which he listens to and mildly reduces his movement. It’s not much longer, luckily, until the race is started, and the two lurch into a fair pace, heading toward the mountains that seem to hide all the mysteries of Wolf’s Run behind them.
Nearing the foot of the mountains, the icy ground begins to creak as they travel across it. Should they speed up or slow down? Rodaan signals to slow down, looking around at the ground for the source of the noise. Havoc stubbornly disagrees. Suddenly the sound of shattering ice erupts from behind them. Havoc pins his hears back and lunges forward and a bit to the side, away from the noise, and both of them look back to see a clump of crystals freshly sprouted from the barren ground. Another clump shoots up shortly after, and another, and more, all following Havoc and Rodaan in their path across the tundra, slowly catching up to them. Rodaan shouts and they close the distance to the mountains as quickly as they can.
A narrow pass through the mountains is ahead; they slow down, looking for the next elementals, worked up by the dash they’d just completed. Their breaths are white in the cold air, which becomes warmer as they move into the mountains. A red and orange glow colors the sky ahead, and the air becomes faintly smoky. Every now and then a faint boom reaches their ears from afar. The snow on the ground becomes more sparse, the black rocks show through more frequently.
The reason becomes clear on the other side: the mountains are dotted with volcanoes. Active, lava-spilling volcanoes, and on occasion one spits up more lava in a small eruption. The activity warms the air and sends smoke into the air, and the glow from the melted rocks colors it pink and orange above. The snow gives way and melts to the heat. As they get closer, the rivers of lava on the ground become apparent, with only a few rocky bridge spanning the deadly gorges. The banks of the rivers are hot to the skin.
   They continue forward, for the one rule of the race was to never stop. Rodaan watches the lava near them, tightening his grip on the neck strap, which Havoc feels and tries to fight the increased control. The first lava they come across are mere streams; a small jump clears the gap in the ground it flows through. The molten rock seems to spurt at them, small droplets flying up and following them until they inevitably harden and fall as pebbles back to the ground. Deeper into the inter-mountain plains, the streams converge and become increasing larger rivers, requiring larger jumps to clear. The harmless droplets from the streams also increase in size and speed, seriously chasing Rodaan and Havoc. Rodaan arcs the staff around, aiming for the hot orbs following them incessantly and his stallion keeps his eyes on them also, lurching away from any that make it too close and fussing at them, trying to use his powers of the air to blow them away from him.
The occasional booms continue, volcanoes exploding, until a sudden, massive explosion from a huge crater lava lake behind them flares and sends a faint shockwave racing across the cooled lava plains, kicking up the sparse snow at its front. It reaches the team and takes them by surprise; Havoc shrieks and jumps in the air; Rodaan barely hangs on, cursing, teeth bared, and is quick to look for the probably horror that caused the shockwave. The orbs chasing them immediately drop when the shockwave reaches them, and the rumblings cease. All goes eerily quiet. Havoc changes to an irritated trot.
Directly behind them, a form rises from the volcano cauldron high in the mountains. A moving form, made form magma, swirling, flapping....
   The flapping motion shakes free wing shapes, and a head on a long neck swings up: a dragon-like creature. Lava drips from its mouth as it rises with the smoke of the over-spilling molten lake. It opens its mouth  as it become free from the magma and the ground rumbles beneath Havoc.
The equivalent of ‘oh, sh*t’ is uttered by Rodaan as he signals Havoc to go all-out and get them the hell out of there. The Lisqar digs into the snowy rocks as hard as he can and surges forward, both he and his rider suddenly filled with real panic, hearts racing.

This… this seemed pretty bad.

Yup.

This was bad.

Description
dayum, I thought I would have more time >_>

Competition: Mini-event! Wolf's run!
Horse: Velocitron
Breed & Age: Lisqar-Equine | 9
Rider/Handler: Rodaan
Age: old enough
Class: Chaotic cross country
Placing: 6th | Results
Music: Unforgiven - TSFH

WHEW

Story: 1144 words DX

  “You’re a madman,” Kadi informs Rodaan, tossing the information packet to him across the staff table.
“Velocitron will like it. Run fast while attacking things is something he enjoys, believe it or not,” he replies, pulling the packet toward him.
“It’s adorable and strange how much you love him.”
“You have Zaphiare.”
Kadi stands up. “Zaphiare is a sweet, gentle kind soul and yours is demon-spawn. A bit of a difference.”
“We just have an elevated level of understanding,” he insists, smirking with jest. “You wouldn’t understand with your everyday, normal stallion.”
Kadi pauses with the door opened, and leans forward toward him. “Insult him again,” she dares quietly, eyes bright.
Rodaan crosses his arms. “He’s fat,” he says simply, meeting her daring gaze.
She stays very still, not blinking, fighting a faint smile, then steps through the door and closes it slowly. Rodaan smiles and chuckles quietly, looking back at the information packet.
“Havoc,” he mutters the popular nickname for his prime Lisqar stallion, standing. “How ironic.”

Rodaan and Velocitron stood still in the wind at the beginning on the course. From here, nothing looked dangerous. It was cold and the wind made it bite them sharply, but otherwise all was calm. A lazy snowy scene was before them. Rodaan knew better – not exactly what there was, but that this was not what the competition was about. He eyed the landscape warily, searching for any hint that could be seen from the start, as he stroked the big stallion beside him. Havoc was warmed up and anxious to be moving again in the cold. Bored, he snorts and blocks the wind with his own air powers. He had a fur blanket and custom chest piece that lacked a bridle. Havoc wouldn’t tolerate anything on his head.
It was about time to start. Rodaan sighs, not having seen anything out of place in the course ahead.
“Get ready,” he mumbles to Havoc in his native language, grabbing onto the crest of the neck and the blanket and swinging up onto Havoc and settling into the tack, taking the neck strap in one hand and gripping the staff with the other, preparing to use it to fend off elementals, whenever they finally appeared.
Havoc  prances in the light snow and stirs it up around his hooves, earning a warning from Rodaan, which he listens to and mildly reduces his movement. It’s not much longer, luckily, until the race is started, and the two lurch into a fair pace, heading toward the mountains that seem to hide all the mysteries of Wolf’s Run behind them.
Nearing the foot of the mountains, the icy ground begins to creak as they travel across it. Should they speed up or slow down? Rodaan signals to slow down, looking around at the ground for the source of the noise. Havoc stubbornly disagrees. Suddenly the sound of shattering ice erupts from behind them. Havoc pins his hears back and lunges forward and a bit to the side, away from the noise, and both of them look back to see a clump of crystals freshly sprouted from the barren ground. Another clump shoots up shortly after, and another, and more, all following Havoc and Rodaan in their path across the tundra, slowly catching up to them. Rodaan shouts and they close the distance to the mountains as quickly as they can.
A narrow pass through the mountains is ahead; they slow down, looking for the next elementals, worked up by the dash they’d just completed. Their breaths are white in the cold air, which becomes warmer as they move into the mountains. A red and orange glow colors the sky ahead, and the air becomes faintly smoky. Every now and then a faint boom reaches their ears from afar. The snow on the ground becomes more sparse, the black rocks show through more frequently.
The reason becomes clear on the other side: the mountains are dotted with volcanoes. Active, lava-spilling volcanoes, and on occasion one spits up more lava in a small eruption. The activity warms the air and sends smoke into the air, and the glow from the melted rocks colors it pink and orange above. The snow gives way and melts to the heat. As they get closer, the rivers of lava on the ground become apparent, with only a few rocky bridge spanning the deadly gorges. The banks of the rivers are hot to the skin.
   They continue forward, for the one rule of the race was to never stop. Rodaan watches the lava near them, tightening his grip on the neck strap, which Havoc feels and tries to fight the increased control. The first lava they come across are mere streams; a small jump clears the gap in the ground it flows through. The molten rock seems to spurt at them, small droplets flying up and following them until they inevitably harden and fall as pebbles back to the ground. Deeper into the inter-mountain plains, the streams converge and become increasing larger rivers, requiring larger jumps to clear. The harmless droplets from the streams also increase in size and speed, seriously chasing Rodaan and Havoc. Rodaan arcs the staff around, aiming for the hot orbs following them incessantly and his stallion keeps his eyes on them also, lurching away from any that make it too close and fussing at them, trying to use his powers of the air to blow them away from him.
The occasional booms continue, volcanoes exploding, until a sudden, massive explosion from a huge crater lava lake behind them flares and sends a faint shockwave racing across the cooled lava plains, kicking up the sparse snow at its front. It reaches the team and takes them by surprise; Havoc shrieks and jumps in the air; Rodaan barely hangs on, cursing, teeth bared, and is quick to look for the probably horror that caused the shockwave. The orbs chasing them immediately drop when the shockwave reaches them, and the rumblings cease. All goes eerily quiet. Havoc changes to an irritated trot.
Directly behind them, a form rises from the volcano cauldron high in the mountains. A moving form, made form magma, swirling, flapping....
   The flapping motion shakes free wing shapes, and a head on a long neck swings up: a dragon-like creature. Lava drips from its mouth as it rises with the smoke of the over-spilling molten lake. It opens its mouth  as it become free from the magma and the ground rumbles beneath Havoc.
The equivalent of ‘oh, sh*t’ is uttered by Rodaan as he signals Havoc to go all-out and get them the hell out of there. The Lisqar digs into the snowy rocks as hard as he can and surges forward, both he and his rider suddenly filled with real panic, hearts racing.

This… this seemed pretty bad.

Yup.

This was bad.