*The Verge of War* A Medieval Rp

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Taking the battle to a new front eh? You have to respect that, thought Herja. This turn of events threw her front and center, for a raging horse like this would garner a tremendous amount of attention in a village. Herja did not really want to get shot off the horse by an arrow, and there was a chance the steed was returning to its barn. Spoiled horses always return to the barn, expecting treats when they make the home trip efficient and expedient, while the outward bound trip was slow and tedious. That could get awkward. But, Herja was committed, bound and determined to stick it out to the end. Besides, what had she to loose, aside from her life?
 
Lsky said:
(17)
Alfric sombrely followed Azor outside, the wind pulled at his cloak and sent a shiver down his spine. "Pull me up." He extended a hand to Azor.

India was going at full speed when she burst into the street, the stars now glowing windows and doorways. She skidded to a halt, her body heaving as she breathed, trying to catch her breath. She was not worn, not yet. Not yet.
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Azor gave him a hand and helped him up
 
It took some effort, but with some grunting and struggling Alfric managed to pull himself up onto the back of Azors's steed. He was exasperated, shocked at how weak he had become. "Okay.." He wheezed. "Ready."

India looked around her, the streets were mostly empty. Lifting her head again she snorted and started off towards the largest building, sitting right at the top of the street. She trotted at a steady pace, her anger still boiling inside her, but she wasn't ready to burn her reserves so quickly, she just needed to gain a little of her strength back.
 

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