It was a dark and stormy (and cliché) night; the rain fell in torrents — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets, rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.
No soul could be seen on Oak's main street, for the honest people of the town already slept tight and stillness reigned upon the entire town... However, it would soon be broken by the barely audible sounds of a horse's hoofs against stone, drowned by the rain. The sound grew louder very slowly, for the horse advanced as slow.
After some time passed, the figure of the rider became visible, an enormous man dressed in a dark cloak, his face and body were hidden from view. As his horse advanced, he uttered no word nor moved even the slightest bit. His head was facing down at the ground before him and his grip on the reins was, at its best, loose.
And so, the stranger advanced through the town as if leading a funeral march for no one in particular. However, all things have an end and so did his path. Reaching the Blue Pegasus headquarters, the old and exhausted horse shook as it neighed and, just like that, the man fell off the horse like a (massive) sac of potatoes, clashing against the floor with a loud thud, his green-spotted pale pink hair sprawled on the floor as the cloak opened, revealing a golden arrow stuck on the side of his abdominal section.
No soul could be seen on Oak's main street, for the honest people of the town already slept tight and stillness reigned upon the entire town... However, it would soon be broken by the barely audible sounds of a horse's hoofs against stone, drowned by the rain. The sound grew louder very slowly, for the horse advanced as slow.
After some time passed, the figure of the rider became visible, an enormous man dressed in a dark cloak, his face and body were hidden from view. As his horse advanced, he uttered no word nor moved even the slightest bit. His head was facing down at the ground before him and his grip on the reins was, at its best, loose.
And so, the stranger advanced through the town as if leading a funeral march for no one in particular. However, all things have an end and so did his path. Reaching the Blue Pegasus headquarters, the old and exhausted horse shook as it neighed and, just like that, the man fell off the horse like a (massive) sac of potatoes, clashing against the floor with a loud thud, his green-spotted pale pink hair sprawled on the floor as the cloak opened, revealing a golden arrow stuck on the side of his abdominal section.