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Well I'm good at randomly throwing peoms together (yay rhymes~) and I wanted to see if anyone else could throw a few poems out there... Doesn't have to be centaur realted I guess, but that would be cool...

Got some random stories of centaurs? Something etertaining to read? Post it here~!

I wouldn't know... I've simply heard of them from my grandmother....

Something I started last year, and never got round to finishing past the character introduction phase. sweatdrop

My chains dragged on the floor; my ankles were sore from the rubbing irons, and my back was aching under the weight of the pack I was forced to carry. My steps echoed off the walls of the tunnel, mixing with the sounds of my manacles clinking, and the bells on my collar jangling. An old man walked before me, holding onto the rope that he had attached to my collar that morning. The gem mines where I was worked were 850 feet at their deepest, and below that was an active lava flow. The flow was not natural; it had been dug by design, so that power could be supplied to the town situated some distance west from where I was by four huge steam turbines. Coming to a junction, I noticed Flat, an acquaintance of mine, pulling a well-loaded mine car off to the north, and then the leading man pulled on my collar, and I moved west towards the mine’s main exit.

Many of the tunnels were unlit, and due to my better vision I had to carry the old man through these parts, adding to the weight of gem shards that I carried. I passed several signs, all reading “Mine 4: central tunnels.” One time I shied away from the tunnel ahead after sensing movement along the walls. A whip cracked and tore at my arm, and the old man kicked me in the flanks, so I went forward into the darkness, dreading what I would find there. Moving faster than normal, I tripped on a rock and stumbled, throwing loose a few small shards from my saddle packs. I was whipped again, and the old man dismounted and began to pick them up. I whimpered, fearing something hostile was close by, and tried to continue forward, but I was pulled back again by the rope on my collar, and I awaited whatever it was that was laying in wait. There was a dull thud, and the old man screamed. I looked round, and saw a slow-creeping slime attached to his leg. I checked he was still holding onto my rope, and then charged forward, dragging him along behind me. He rolled over so that his leg was pressing the slime’s brain sac into the jagged floor, and, reluctantly, the slime let him go. I stopped a few metres on, and he got back up on top of me. “Damn slimes!” he cursed. “Worthless little bastards!” Then he turned to me. “My leg is bloody killing me! Why’d you have to be so damn slow off the mark?” “Sorry, sir.” “Whatever, get back to work.” “Thank you, sir.” I moved on in silence. “Hey,” he said, holding out a small wooden tablet on a dirty string “your stuff.” I took it from him and refastened it around my neck. It hung there the way it always used to before he had taken it, and I felt a bit warmer in the chill, dank air of the mine.

The clattering of other carrier’s hooves ahead became audible, and we joined the rest of the mineworkers leaving for the surface. We approached the stables after unloading all our rocks, and I was handed over to one of the stable hands who untacked me and took me to my stall. I am, as you may have guessed, a centaur. A twelve hand, jet black Arabian-shire colt to be exact. The Stables is my holding room, a small, boarded area only befitting a slave such as myself. Unlike most others, mine was straw lined, although the straw had not been changed for over a month. I leaned against the gate, and watched the humans passing by my stall. A few of them were carrying feed, and one was holding a small steel box. A woman passed by dressed in a stunning grey skirt, and she was wearing a silver bangle. Half an hour later, I was fed, and straight after that I went to sleep. The next day was a Sunday, so no humans went to dig in the mines. As a centaur, I was expected to either cut rocks or haul large weights in the limestone quarries up in the northern tundra. It was a long journey there, and everyone was tired by the time we arrived.

We were put to work immediately, and everyone set to it happily, glad to be out in the open air; everyone that is except Coarse, who was always unhappy and who disliked everyone. Personally, I was less happy than everyone else, having been assigned to work alongside Coarse for the day. Coarse was a pristine white Friesian filly with the temperament of a rabid wolverine. Beautiful she was, likeable she wasn’t; the last worker to try to befriend her suffered a broken leg, arm, and massive all-over bruising. She waited for me to cut the first block, complaining about the wait while sunning herself, and then the block was too big and I’d better cut the next one smaller, and the next one wasn’t big enough for the foreman’s order so I got whipped and that made me a coward for not standing up to him, and then I was cutting them too big again, and by midday I was as miserable as I would have been down in the mines. I managed to cope, though, until just before the rest break at two o’clock, when I noticed Coarse limping, and offered to start pulling the blocks so she could do the cutting. She shot me a look of fiery doom, and accused me of trying to get out of my own job, and making her out to be a weakling, and then before I knew it she had slipped her yoke and was lashing out at me with her hooves. At that point I was fatigued, depressed, and thoroughly sick of the day. By all accounts I should have backed down and fled, having avoided any conflict for three years. For some reason, though, I instead lost my temper and responded in kind. I was taller, stronger and heavier than she was, and though she fought fiercely, I had managed to make a real mess of her by the time we were broken up. She looked at me as they held me back, and her eyes were filled with terror. She had never misjudged anyone before, she had been so sure I would back down. I hated fighting, I always had, so why did I fight back? Truth be told, I would have liked to have known that myself. I suffered dearly for the fighting, as did she. They had us both pulling carts in the mines for the next two weeks, with no upside excursions. On top of that, I lost my pendant again, and there was little chance I’d ever get it back.

The first week passed slowly, and I was on the verge of collapse by the end of it. On Thursday of the second week, though, my life took a turn for the better. I had heard stories of centaurs living easy lives in wide pastures who only ever had to run for a living. It had sounded impossible, but I had believed it nonetheless. That morning, at about four o’clock, I was woken up and led into the stable courtyard. After a quick mouthful of feed, I was walked in a circle past about thirty or so humans, who were watching me and talking quietly amongst themselves. As I walked, I noticed other centaurs also being led around and recognised Cabbage, my brother, ahead of me. I had not seen him for over four months and tried to catch up with him, but I was pulled back and told to keep to my place. After an hour of being led around, we were all taken out to one of the fields, and the humans milled around, checking hooves, and testing muscles. One came to me and rubbed my flank with a brush, dislodging a lot of the dirt I’d picked up in the mines. He nodded, and moved on to Cabbage who was next to me. The next to approach me was a pretty young human in a white robe, and I guessed at her being a member of the clergy. She checked each of my hooves in turn, and checked my legs, avoiding my scars left over from the fight. She tapped me on the flank, and cleared her throat. I turned to her, and she spoke to me quietly, in a voice that seemed to me to be musical. “What is your name?” “Bigger, miss.” “And you were born here?” “No, miss.” She waited for a moment. “Well?” “I’m sorry, miss?” “Where were you born, if not here?” “I don’t remember, miss. I’ve been told I was born wild.” “Wild, you say?” “I think so, miss.” “You’ll do perfectly.” She called to the man who had led me, and after twelve minutes of haggling I was bought from the mine for the hefty price of twenty-five thousand coppers, paid in gold bullion. “Now, Bigger, who would you like to take with you?” “With me, miss?” “Call me Mistress Fairfax.” “Yes, Mistress Fairfax.” “I am buying racing stock today. Who would you like to take with you? Someone with a competitive nature would be good.” I immediately thought of my brother, but while I had inherited the size of my shire mother, but the physique of my Arabian father, my brother was the complete opposite. He was excessively strong, but could not move very fast. “I would like it if you were to buy my brother, madam Fairfax.” “Where is he?” “To my left, Madam Fairfax.” She went to look at him, and turned to me angrily. “I said I was buying a racer, not a puller. This one will never race, he’s built for mine work. I’ll make it easy for you, you dim animal. Who is the most competitive centaur in the entire stables? You’ll give me a simple answer if you value your breeding prospects.” I had no idea what breeding was at this point, as the mine did not have the facilities to stud and communication between stock was kept to a minimum by the foreman and his men. “What are breeding prospects, madam Fairfax?” If she was surprised she hid it well, for I did not see any on her face. “Never you mind. Answer my question.” “Well, I would say Coarse, but she won’t. . .” “Very well, Coarse it shall be.” “But Madam Fairfax. . .” “Silence.” With this she went to talk to the foreman, and had Coarse brought out. Coarse took one look at me and tried to leave, but her handler was used to her and kept her still.

Madam Fairfax talked with her for while, and then returned to me. “She tells me that you’re dangerous. Why is that, do you think?” “I fought with her a week ago, madam Fairfax.” “And why did you do that?” “I don’t know, Madam Fairfax.” She thought for a while, and then went to talk to the foreman again. After the foreman she talked again with Coarse, and then handed over a small bag of coins. She came to me, and said, “You were right about her, Bigger. She’s quite the violent type according to Mr. Wicker. They were glad to get rid of her.” The foreman had obviously given Mistress Fairfax a rundown on Coarse’s history, and it hadn’t been a positive one. Mistress Fairfax looked to her and then spoke again. “She is beautiful, though, don’t you think?” “Yes, Mistress Fairfax.” “I thought you’d agree, Bigger. Take her reins and follow me.” I was astounded. No centaur in the mines ever had the right to lead another centaur by the reins. That right was always reserved for humans. Nonetheless, I took the rope and led Coarse, who bristled at what she saw as a needless slight on her rank. “So, I bet you’re loving this, aren’t you?” She said icily. “Can’t wait to tell everyone about it, can you?” I looked round, and she flinched. “No-one for me to tell anymore.” I replied, and continued after Mistress Fairfax. “You’ll find someone to brag to, I’d put a day’s feed on it.” “May I ask you a question?” “No, you may not.” “Fair enough.” We continued in silence as Mistress Fairfax led us to the train station, and had us loaded onto one or the freight cars. “It’ll take us until tomorrow to get to my stables, so you two had better be willing to behave on the way.” “Yes, Mistress Fairfax.” I replied. Coarse stayed silent. “And you, young lady?” Mistress Fairfax asked her. “Yes, Ma’am.” “Good. Now both of you get some sleep.” With that the doors were closed, and Coarse and I were left alone together in the car. I woke up in the night, and saw someone bending over me. The figure dropped something over my neck, and disappeared from sight. I touched the object cautiously, and felt my pendant. I then yawned and went back to sleep, as I was too tired to consider who it might have been.

The next day the train reached our destination, and I was led out of the car with Coarse to see our new home. I was stunned by what I saw. Whole meadows stretched out around us, each seemingly greener than the last. “Wow.” I said in awe. “Wow.” Agreed Coarse, and when we were led into the nearest meadow and turned loose, it took us a whole ten minutes before we came to terms with our surroundings enough to do anything more than just stand there and stare around us. I spied an elderflower tree near the other side of the field by the fence, and I galloped over towards it, and exalted in the wind in my ears and the thunder of my feet. It had been a long time since I had been able to run freely, and the experience was incredible. I looked over my shoulder, and saw Coarse still standing at the fence. I stopped and called to her, but she stayed where she was, so I continued over to the tree and took a mouthful of berries from one of the branches. After ten or so minutes, I heard Coarse behind me. “It’s about time! These berries won’t eat themselves, you know.” Coarse snarled at me, and pushed me away from the tree. “Get lost, I’m eating from this tree. You can go find some shrubbery.” She had obviously got over her fear of me from the fight, and was back to her old miserable self. “Ha! You couldn’t eat even half of that lot!” I responded, annoyed by her return to the norm. “Oh, yeah? And you’re going to finish it after stuffing yourself for ten minutes, I suppose?” “I could eat more than you.” “Whatever.” “Prove me wrong, then.” “Nice try, but this lot is mine.” “What, afraid of a little competition?” “No way!” “Then let’s go.” With that, I grabbed a branch and took a bite. Coarse grabbed two, and tore a chunk from both of them. It took forty minutes of solid stuffing, but eventually I had to admit defeat and went to lean on the fence to support my bloated stomach. Coarse laughed as she continued eating. “What, out already? I’m just getting warmed up!”

She kept going for another six minutes just to spite me, and then leaned on me to keep herself standing. “Hey, get off me!” “”Make me.” I struggled against her weight, but I was so full that I couldn’t budge. “What a wuss you are, Bigger! I can’t believe I let you win that fight.” “Whatever, just wait ‘till I’ve finished being full, I’ll show you who the wuss is!” “Oh, I AM scared. Look at me shake.” I sighed and tried to relax, but I couldn’t get comfortable with the fence pressing on my flank. In the end, Coarse got off me and lay down on the grass, and went back to sleep. With relief I got up, and cantered around for a bit in an attempt to work off some of the now decimated elderberry bush. After a while, I noticed a human and a centaur watching me by the gate. I trotted over to them, and waited for one of them to say something. The human spoke first, a man of about thirty who was wearing a blue riding coat and black leather boots. “So, you’re the new guy are you?” “Yes, sir.” “Sir? That’s a laugh. No-one calls me sir, I’m only the furrier.” “What’s a furrier, sir?” “I’m the guy that does your shoes. Johnny will suffice for me, thanks.” “Yes, Johnny.” I replied, and waited for someone to speak again. This time it was the centaur; he was very small with thick brown hair and a black mane and tail and he spoke with the deepest voice I’d ever heard. “You’d be from the pits then, eh?” “Yes, that’s right. My name’s Bigger.” “They call me Proudfoot. If you’re Bigger, then whose is the fortune charm around your neck?” “The what? This is mine, I had it when I was brought to the mines.” “So you were a wilder then? I was too, until about seven years ago. That there’s a fortune charm with your name on it. It says Ra’sona, which means ‘meeting between the mountains,’ so I’d guess you’re from one on the northern herds.”

I took all this in fairly easily, apart from the part about his being wild. “You say seven years ago? That can’t be right, you don’t look older than eight at the most.” He laughed, and shook his head. “I’m from the southern isles, and I’m probably twice as old as you. They call me a Shetland, and I’m from what is hand for hand the toughest breed there is.” “No kidding.” He nodded towards Coarse, and grinned. “Is she yours, then?” I looked at him quizzically. “Huh? What do you mean, ‘is she mine?’” “I mean, is she your mare? Are you two together?” “Well, we came on the same train, if that’s what you mean.” He laughed again, and said “Never mind, you’ll find out soon enough. Mind if I have a word with her?” “If you want to, but make sure you don’t get hurt.” He turned to the furrier. “Is that all right, Johnny?” Johnny nodded, and opened the gate. Proudfoot trotted over to Coarse and nudged her with his hoof. She got up, looked him over, and chased him from the field in a fit of rage. Johnny closed the gate after him, and Coarse went back to her sleeping spot. “Bloody hell! She’s a rough one, isn’t she? I’m not surprised you don’t want her.” “Want her? In what way?” “Oh, that’s right, you don’t get it do you? Never mind, all will be revealed come summer.” With that he bade me goodbye, and he and Johnny continued along the path. The next day passed in a haze of sun and grass, and on our third day we were taken to be re-shod. Johnny worked on me first, and soon I had a new set of steel shoes, which gleamed brightly in the sun. Coarse was next, and she made a huge fuss about it, so the process took far longer than it needed to. We were then taken to our new stalls which had been cleaned out for us while we were in the meadow. Johnny had obviously talked to Mistress Fairfax, because the name Ra’sona was carved into the door of mine. Coarse, whose name was now apparently Corsair, was in the stall seven doors down from me and delighted in creating a terrible din for the first fifty minutes, until the stable hand arrived with her supper.

Early next morning I was taken to the track to be tested. My trainer, James, gave me my instructions. “Just go as fast as you can once around the track. Miss Fairfax is watching, so don’t hold back, OK?” “Got it” “Ready?” “Ready.” He slapped me on the rump, and I took off down the track. I found it hard to keep running straight, and I nearly ran straight through the barrier on the first corner and had to slow down to avoid it. After that, I slowed down just before reaching the other three. As I finished the lap James checked my time on the clock on the fence, and nodded. “You’re very fast, that much is certain, but you need to control your pace better. The corners are a problem for you, I noticed, but I can take care of that. Other than that, you’re a prize runner.” “Thanks.” I replied happily. “When do we start?” “First thing tomorrow.” “What about the rest of today?” “Ah, today,” he said, “today we sort out your colours, but first I’ve got to have a word with Miss Fairfax.” With this he turned and strode off ahead of me. I followed him instinctively, and he turned and told me to stay where I was. I watched him climb the stairs that led to the spectator’s stalls and then jumped the inner barrier fence and lay down in the sun on the centre of the track, which was covered in long grass. I must have fallen asleep there, because I didn’t notice him calling until he was right net to me. “Hey, Ra’sona, how’d you manage to get in here?” “Huh? Oh, I jumped in.” “Over the fence?” “That’s right.” “I see. No harm done, but you aren’t supposed to be allowed in here, that’s why the fence was built higher than the others.” “Oh, sorry James. I won’t do it again.” He nodded. “Could you jump back out for me, please?” “Sure thing!” I took a short run at the fence, and cleared it easily as I had the first time. “Nice form. You could be a showpiece if you got cleaned up a bit.” “What’s a showpiece?” “Well, It’s another form of competition where the idea is to look better than the others, not run faster than them.” “Sounds easy.” “Well there isn’t much work involved, but the stallions and mares brought there to compete are usually the prettiest out of over a hundred others that were short listed for participating.” I thought about this for a few moments, and replied simply. “I still think it sounds far easier than a race.” James laughed, and nodded. “That it is, Ra’sona, that it is.” He led me off the track, and around to a set of old stalls that were now providing storage space for a large amount of racing getup. James searched through them for a while, and found a number of them that he liked. “Now try to keep still, this will probably take a long time.” The next hour was spent trying on leg guards, tunics, hats and armbands. Afterwards I was allowed a quick run to keep me happy, and then followed another hour of the same. Eventually, James had narrowed it down to a choice of two. “I’ll tell you what, I can’t decide between the blue with yellow trim or the pink with black chevrons, so I’ll let you pick one.” I was only half-listening, so I pointed out one still on a shelf. “I like that one.” James looked at where I was pointing, and shook his head. “It would be nice, wouldn’t it, but Miss Fairfax won’t ever be using that one again. That one belonged to snapdragon, her favourite. He died when the train he was travelling in derailed in a storm and fell into a gorge. Not a single body was recognised by its family, but everyone on the train died, there’s no doubt of that. They counted the corpses, and there were the same number as there had been tickets sold. She was heartbroken, wouldn’t eat for days, but eventually she came to terms with her loss. She’ll never have another centaur in those colours though, she promised herself that in his memory, and not a soul has so much as touched them since.” I looked at the black-and-red barding lying undisturbed on the shelf, and sighed. “He must have been really special, huh, James?” “Oh, he was, and no-one who knew him will say otherwise.” “Then I guess I’ll go for the blue.” “Good choice. I’ll have it tailored to your size by Woden’s day at the latest.”

Done.

Sorry about that, most of my stories are paragraphed, but I guess I never got that far with this one. sweatdrop

Thanks. I wish I could remember what I was going to do with the story. emo

I write poem... Though I never thought to write a poem based on Centaurs or anything like that o.o