Failed bid for Kin/Myrna baby- Lordling for Auction (Pie or Chimera)!

Featuring Lord Soren, Mentioning Lord Svetlikin
Early Autumn, Year 769 of the New Age
Glenmore, Royal Glades

He couldn't put it off any longer- Soren was on his way to visit his lord father. Svetlikin had been an aging stag when Soren was born, and now that the young lordling had come of age, it seemed his elderly father's days were numbered. He couldn't help but think that his mother must be pleased. Still, he had ignored the summons for a few days- preferring to enjoy the youthful exhuberance of rut in all its glory.

And oh was it glorious! These past few years as the trees began to fade to their autumn hues his blood had boiled and his skin had crawled and he was filled with such energy, such life! He was self-aware enough to know that he was too small and too ugly to win any does through feats of strength or stagly charm, but that hadn't stopped him entirely. Last year he had managed to woo one of the serving-hinds. She was the daughter of some hoofmaiden or butler in service to his family or some other royal family. It didn't really matter- she served him and he took full advantage of that fact. But this year, this year he had something else up his sleeve. Someone had started a rumor.

It hadn't been him, though he almost wished it had. Some poor, stupid, ignorant soul had started a rumor that Soren's rack, in all its grotesquerie, was infected with a curse, and if any unlucky stag were to bring his own rack into contact with it, then he too would become infected by it's black aura. It was true that the lordling's rack was a sight to behold, and not in a good way. In his first season it had been a small, twisted lump of bumbs and cysts and it never truly shed its velvet. His hoofmatron had tried to convince him that it was a fluke of his first growth, but as the abomonation writhed into being this past spring, the likelihood of that being true was slim-to-none. It somewhat resembled a fuzzy, twisted fungus trying to curl itself into a spiral. Several smaller mushroom-like growths extended out of it, and anywhere his ugly, white splotches extended onto it looked even more diseased than the rest. It definitely wouldn't have won any sparring contests, even if it was considerably larger than most of his year-mates. He wasn't even sure if it was entirely solid, to be honest.

In any case, that didn't matter! No stag would even meet his eyes this rut, much less challenge him! And so he had spent the last few days doing his lordly duties, and loving every minute of it. But now that had to pause for a few minutes. He took one last moment to enjoy the glow of his conquest, before stepping, quite self-satisfied, into his father's glade.

Word Count: 475 words

I hope you'll pardon the future!setting, drawing him older gave me a much better grasp on his character than as a baby