Any great warrior is also a
scholar, and a poet, and an artist.
Knowledge of what is does not open
the door directly to what should be.
The pretty light colored barn owl ruffles her wings awkwardly, she had broken her helmet in her last battle with the pure ones and this would be the third one this month! She sighs and stops worrying as she hops in to the black smiths and seeing that nobody was there she just left her helmet with a note. As she hops out she gazes up at the night sky and calculates what time it was... Midnight; she was far to restless to sleep after hearing that her best friend was now the king of the pure ones. As her head turns she notices that some one was still in the library, she smiles as she enters the dark room lit by the light of a single candle, she was silent as she moved it wasn't until she was next to the other owl that it was their king and leader Soren. "Doing a bit of late night reading?" Vira asks in a genital voice so as not to spook him in to a fluster.
A man who won't die for something
is not fit to live.
When angry, count to four;
when very angry, swear.
The new king of the Pure ones smiles with an evil grin as he watches the new owlets being brought in to be turned in to pickers or fighters. I glares as one a couple of owlets drop and try to fly but are quickly picked up by the Owl gatherers, he ruffles his coal black feathers and glances around before returning to his perch and waiting for all the Owl gatherers to return before he could start the moon blinking of the pickers and the training of the warriors.