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 Posted: Tue Jun 30, 2009 4:05 pm
[male full pic] [male unpainted] [female full pic] [female unpainted]As the Soquili shop celebrates its 4th birthday, it celebrates a time of relative peace and prosperity through the Kawani lands.
However, even the serenest of realms has its dark times; the pages of history are often marred by the fires of conflict, the drums of battle. And the Kawani is no exception...
Basically, I'd like you to breathe life into these characters! I'd like to hear about:- Who they are
- Their relationship (are they close? complete strangers? comrades? hated enemies? etc... plenty of possiblity!)
- A wartime period/setting (can just be background, no need to detail if you don't want to. can be horses only, or include humans if you wish)
- Bonus points if you involve/explain/include their body paint somehow ; )... wrapped up in a story-format of your choice! You can tell me a general plot, a one-shot scene, a backstory, dialogue between the two... whatever you like, as long as it shows me their dynamics.
I enjoy the dramatic and engaging, so I'm looking for an entry that'll make me sit back and go "man, was that epic." =DRules:- Ends Sat July 11th, 10pm PST
- One entry per person, no mules
- As long or short as you like (within reason)
- You may edit, but make a note in your post if you do, or I might miss it
- Winner takes both horses, since the story is about both. But one must be given away or at least co-owned.
- Runner up prize might be awarded, depending on entries
- The prizes don't have to be RP'd, though it'd be nice!
- Feel free to ask questions in-thread, otherwise only post if you have an entry
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Posted: Tue Jun 30, 2009 4:06 pm
Form:[b]Male's name:[/b]
[b]Male's personality and/or brief bio:[/b] (not required if you wish to explain this in the actual story)
[b]Female's name:[/b]
[b]Female's personality and/or brief bio:[/b] (not required if you wish to explain this in the actual story)
[b]Your tale:[/b]
Good luck! I'm looking foward to reading them entries =D
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Posted: Tue Jun 30, 2009 7:51 pm
Male's name: Bidziil; "he is strong."
Male's personality: A valiant warrior who knows well his own limitations... few though they may be. Volatile and courageous, he is as unpredictable as the Northern wind. Favoring common sense over philosophical nuances, he prefers the thrill of battle to the alacrity of witty banter.
He is known for his short temper, even among those who would call him friend. He relies on his sister's adept intellect to guide his strength to victory; without her careful strategics, he would simply lash out at any opponents who came to near, killing until there were none left to kill- or his body at long last failed him.
All enemies wear the face of the hated Skinwalker who murdered the Father he never knew- he lives for the chance to avenge his fallen sire.
Female's name: Helushka; "fighter."
Fondly nick-named "Lushie" by her rebellious younger brother.
Female's personality: She is a more refined version of her brother's blatant ferocity. She, too, fights to free the land of the tainted breeds, but rarely does she loose her self-control. Preferring wit and satire to combat, she will avoid bloodshed if possible... but be warned: if her inner Valkyrie is unleashed by unnecessary war-mongering or murderous deeds, none shall be spared. All shall perish, singed by her wrath, doomed by their own foul deeds.
Tormented by macabre memories, she fights to banish all evil.
Those who gain her pity are safe as safe can be, for in winning her stalwart guard so too have they earned the services of her choleric brother.
Your tale:
"This is no time for reprieve!" The enraged stallion bellowed, his nostrils flaring as he strode towards his sister and her newest charge. "We must move- they will return. We will not be ready! And what then? What then, sister? Will we fight for this coward? Will we die for this-"
"SILENCE... silence, Bidziil." she softened her command with a smile. "Be calm. They are no match for us." her smile twisted into a foul sneer, stubborn pride flashing in her sky-blue eyes. "... or do you fear the vermin?"
"You know I do not." He snarled, lips curling in disgust as he turned away. Turbulent amber eyes snapped back a moment later; he would not back down. "Then why- why have you taken on this infidel? There is a Uni camp not far down the river- can we not leave the two-legged in a Healer's capable hands?"
The two-legged tribe had been attacked at sundown by the vagabond wolf pack. Only women and children remained- the two-legged warriors were deep in the forest, hunting venison to feed their families' aching bellies. Too far. Too few.
The battling duo, newly painted by the beloved Shaman that had helped their mourning mother raise the pair, had arrived just in time to scare off the scavengers- only one soul remained who still drew breath.
A somber jerk of her head negated his suggestion. "He is wounded- he will die of blood loss before we can get him there. We must stay; the Unis will come to us." The young boy groaned, shaking body curled in the fetal position, mumbling nonsense- already a fever burned.
He snorted; his sister's logic had failed her! "And how will they know that their skills are needed? Will their precious Great Mother tell them of the two-legged-foal's peril, and-"
She halted his disgruntled protests with a pointed glare. "How, indeed, oh brother mine?"
-
Bidziil scowled, lashing out at a fallen log as he strode mercilessly towards the Uni's encampment.
"Warn them." he spat the words, brooding over the tiresome task. "Bring them here; bring them so that they might heal him- only then may we set the trap to catch our intended prey upon their inevitable return."
She was always doing this to him. Telling him to do this, save that, bite them, kick him- instructing him, conducting him, channeling his relentless energy and noble urges to suit her cause. Her whim.
An he... well, who has he to tell her no?
She had watched their Father die, ripped to shreds by the merciless, sadistic, brutal, savage demon- a hated Skinwalker, looking to have a little fun at the expense of innocents. Helpless, the terrified filly had watched, sheltered by the Shaman's stern visage, cocooned within his magic web, powerless as her Father begged for mercy- unharmed as her Mother wept in anguish. Little Lushie had emerged, unscathed... in all but spirit.
She had dedicated herself, then and there, to the prevention of future ill deeds.
He had not yet been born.
Sparing barely a glance for the bewildered Uni herd, stunned by the emergence of the painted warhorse in their sheltered glade, he ordered a brisk command.
"Come." He spun on his hindquarters and launched himself into a powerful gallop, eager to return. The careless vermin had left a crimson trail to follow, leading away from the scene of the slaughter. Once his sister's conscience had been sated, the child's wounds tended...
The wolves would be repaid- tenfold.
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Posted: Tue Jun 30, 2009 9:05 pm
EDITTED
Male's name: Fuma
Male's personality and/or brief bio: In story
Female's name: Peprika
Female's personality and/or brief bio: In story
Your tale:
There’s a legend that graces the Soquili lands from many years ago. One of friendship, war, and love. It’s not to well known anymore, and all that is left are the stories that get told…
Over those many years ago, there were two foals born to a large and prominent herd… Fuma a colt, and Peprika a filly, their families had many differences but regardless the two found each other. They were inseparable, finished each other sentences… Their bond was so strong that the elders of the herd took notice and deemed them betrothed. Neither of them knew what it meant but all they cared about was being together forever. They were perfect matches for each other. They were soul mates.
When the leader of the herd passed away, uneasiness set in. The herd was spilt into two on who should be the new leader. The divide was so severe it tore the herd part… And the two foals. Forming two new herds not only were they weakened by numbers, they each too residence on the edge of the semi large plain. This was only the beginning of troubles on the plain.
With a sudden increase of two leggers in the area and no rain… the plant life was dying, and there was little food to be found… This was the start of a war that no one saw coming. Fuma and Peprika knew little of what went one… They were both dealing with the pain of not having each other. The two herds paths crossed often in a bad way. With the lack of food tempers flared and fights occurred when they crossed territories looking for food.
This continued for a while, the two foals had grown into adults, and the effects had settled in.
It was said that Peprika was emotionless and no one could get close to her after her parents died. She lost all sight of what was positive and good. She never felt complete again. Fuma was said to have become aggressive and brutish taking part in training and fighting in his herd.
A cruel fate that would come to the two herd came on a day that the sky was said to have bled in its dark clouds. Thunder shook the earth and a war would erupt.
No one knows what truly happened that day. It was said that when Fuma and Peprika’s eyes met over the bloody grounds that the mare screamed such a painful scream… The horses present went deaf. It was said in a legend that when soul mates that were turn apart and then re-united after such a time, the pain of becoming alive again… Killed most.
Fuma had turned into such an angry beast, it was rumored he killed Peprika… And some say, the two of them suffered so that the gods above stopped the war, and graced the lands with life again… Sending the two herds their separated ways for eternity, protecting a love so strong.
The plains that are in this legend are now a lush forest. But every few years when the sky gets dark and its said to bleed… Those in the forest say that they hear the war and the cry that Peprika gave… But no one knows it was her cry of death, or her cry that deafened. Every 100 years the paints turned into markings and accessories grace two foals… Until the day these lost souls find one another, this incarnation will continue. But the truth of what happened may be lost completely by the time this legend is truly finished.
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 7:10 am
Male's name: Dark Crow “Crow”
Male's personality and/or brief bio: Please see story.
Female's name: Bloody Horizons “Rizo”
Female's personality and/or brief bio: Please see story.
Your tale:
Clouds gathered in the sky, turning day into the color of the darkest night. The two tribes faced each other from opposite sides of the grasslands, the war horses seemed to dance beneath their riders in anticipation of the first charge. Long had the feud been boiling between the tribes, finally, it had reached it’s breaking point. The chiefs had given the order, “Leave none alive.”
Rizo stood like a statue, she was the only mare in her herd of war horses. She had been given the great privilege of being the Chief’s steed because of her great abilities and loyalty. She could outrun the fastest male, she faced danger with a cold look upon her face, but what made her a legendary war horse was the frenzy. Calm and steady she looked, but when the time struck, Rizo was known for her unparalled ability to stand up to those against her, she had a bezerker mode like none other. Rizo continued to breath calmly while the other ponies pranced in place, she waited for her Chief to give the word.
Across the grassland, Crow looked from beneath his Chief. He too, had been given the privilege of being the Chief’s ride. Unlike Rizo, Crow was loud and boisterous, he danced and pawed at the ground ready to strike. His red eyes seemed to almost glow, his nostrils flared, “Death to them all!” his Chief has yelled to the warriors, then death it would be. Known for his strength and uncanny agility, Crow had become leader of his herd at a younger age than most. Having challenged the previous leader, he had shown just how savage he was, he won his challenge and exiled the old stallion to the desert.
As the war drums from both tribes began to sound, louder and louder the war horses became. As the sky began to flash with lightening, the call was given, the war had begun. Rizo and Crow led their herds, charging across the plains, their Chiefs holding tightly to their manes. The hooves of the herds dug into the earth, throwing dirt up into the sky. Sounds of whinnies and hooves clashing against the earth filled the ears of the warriors, then, the bodies collided. With force that surely shook the earth, bodies of horses and warriors alike collided, throwing riders from their horses to the hard ground below and sending horses to their sides, causing them to struggle to right themselves.
Lightening stuck, thundered rolled and the sky became even darker. In the distance, a fire started at the edge of the grasslands. Rain had not fallen in many days, it would spread quickly causing even more danger, the warriors battled on.
The fire moved closer, raging on just like the hate in the warrior’s heart. Through the smoke that filled the grasslands, the two Chief’s finally found one another in battle. Turning their steeds they set to charge one another. At full speed, Rizo and Crow’s bodies collieded, sending both of the chiefs to the ground at the edge of the inferno. Rizo lost her footing, falling to her side. Crow had been hit hard enough to cause him to loose his breath for a moment. As they both fought to regroup, the Chiefs continued in hand to hand battle, the smoke and fire danced closes until finally the smoke consumed them both.
Once righted, Rizo looked for her beloved Chief, she could hear his war cries from the billowing grey mass that danced before her, but she could not see him. Her eyes searched and she whinnied for his guidance, a war horse was nothing without her rider. Crow watched as the flames grew higher and closer, he began to side step out of fear as the flames crept closer and closer. He knew his rider was in there, he had to get in there… but the flames seemed to mock his movements keeping him at bay.
Rizo continued to listen, suddenly, she heard the pain filled scream of her Chief. Her head jerked up and she whinnied loudly, charging into the blinding smoke screen, her frenzy took over. The scent of burning grass and blood filled her nostrils, she was blinded by the smoke that burned her eyes. From the corner of her eye, she saw a single hand reaching up for her, she moved quickly towards it. Covered in blood, the hand grabbed her mane, a body quickly flung itself over her back and Rizo turned to run. The flames had her circled, there was no escape.
From the edge of the smoke and fire, Crow could do nothing. His herd had considered him fearless, but he had never seen fire so large. He would be considered a coward, he would be thrown out of his own herd for letting the Chief perish. His eyes searched and searched, but there was no sign of his Chief.
From the flames and smoke, the image of the mare came bursting forward at full gallop, the body of her injured Chief on her back. She glanced only in passing at the stallion who stood searching for his rider as she took her own Chief to the safety of the woods. Carefully, she shifted her body so that he fell as gently as possible to the ground. She would come back for him. Turning her head to look, in the distance, the stallion still pranced. Even though she was a war horse, she had a heart. She could only imagine how she would feel if her Chief was trapped. She quickly made her way back to Crow’s side, saying nothing, she charged back into the smoke.
The only sound she could hear was the fire crackling all around her, she moved blindly through the smoke until she finally heard the sound of labored breathing. Lowering her head she nosed around until she felt the warm lifeless body of a two-legger. Unsure if he was alive, she grabbed on to his leather pants with her teeth and backed as quickly as she could towards the way out. It was becoming harder and harder to breath, the smoke filled her lungs, but she had to get out.
Crow watched for a sign, any sign of the mare. Slowly, a figure in the smoke began to emerge. It was the mare, beneath her, the body of Crow’s chief. Rizo drug the Chief close to Crow and let go, struggling to get clean air into her lungs she only nodded and looked at the stallion before turning to leave. Un-known to her, Crow’s Chief had gained consciousness and seen that it was the mare of the other tribe that had saved his life.
Rizo hurried to make her way back to her Chief’s side, but before reaching him, she heard a call. She heard the call of the opposing Chief to call off their battle. The warriors in the field stopped, lowering their weapons with confused looks on their faces. Rizo only turned to look once she had reached her Chief’s side. In the distance, she could see that Crow’s rider had taken his place upon Crow’s back, and was giving the call to stop the war.
The battle was over, the two Chief’s met in the middle of the battlefield, both astride their trusted steeds. Crow lowered his head out of respect to the courageous mare that had saved his Chief, she in turned lowered hers out of the respect that although he did not enter the flames, Crow had not left his Chief and run away. There, the two tribes came to an agreement on the lands and became alliances, all because of the lesson that one brave mare showed them all. Lives are worth saving, no matter what side you are on.
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 9:03 am
Its a bit.. long. Sorry! Edited to show what name I'd want on the cert.
Male's name: On painted cert- Dyami (Means: EAGLE); On unpainted cert- AKA: Yuma (Son of the Chief)
Male's personality and/or brief bio: A quiet male. He's trained as a warrior yet would prefer a more gentle life. He loves stories and is most alive with his family, otherwise being very solemn and stoic.
Female's name: On painted cert- Liluye (Means: SINGING HAWK WHILE SOARING); On Unpainted cert- AKA: Nituna (My Daughter)
Female's personality and/or brief bio: A strong female that could fight with the best warriors if allowed. She has a healers touch and a warriors heart but is normally a bit silly and a troublemaker.
Your tale:
Their tribes had been fighting since beyond their fathers, fathers time. No one, not even the tribes storytellers and loremasters, could remember how it started. It was as if the very gods just placed the two tribes next to each other one day and said 'fight'. And fight they did. Brutally. Many lives had been lost and both tribes were damaged from the toll the war had taken on everyone. Then came the story, of a time of peace. Where the tribes were friends and no longer enemies... united under the Hawk and Eagle. The two tribes searched and waited for a sign of these two heroes.. but to no avail.
More time passed and each Chief was blessed with a child. Both tribes rejoiced over the event for they would have a future leader, as each Chief was starting to get old. Both Chiefs were tired of war. Though many still looked for a sign of Hawk and Eagle, the Chiefs believed maybe they would come until the proved they were worthy of being saved. And so the peace talks were attempted.
Attempted... was the right word. The diplomats and Chiefs spent more timing arguing over the wrongs the other had done to them than attempt any compromise. Perhaps some hatreds ran too deep? Yuma would stand next to his father, solemn and proud, and stare at the other tribe in disinterest. While Nituna would roll her eyes over the 'idiot' men and make faces at Yuma when the adults weren't looking. Yuma would glare back.. and Nituna would smirk. The future was not looking much better.
The peace talks were abandoned and both tribes went back to what they knew... fighting. Yuma joined the ranks of the warriors and led his tribe to many victories. Nituna was not allowed to join and instead leaned healing to help her tribe. Both Chiefs became paranoid about their children and several assassination attempts had been thwarted by both sides. Nituna was constantly being moved around in order to keep her safe. Yuma was pulled from the warrior ranks and instead assigned to pillage the smaller villages.
It was one such day where in the village Nituna resided, the cry went up that they were being attacked. However, the attacking tribe was no match for the guards that had been sent to protect the Chiefs daughter and soon that battle was over. Nituna went about her duties healing those she found, when she came upon an unmarked male. He was badly wounded and looked vaguely familiar so she assumed he was from the village and set about healing him.
Yuma blinked blearily at the female kneeling beside him as she mixed healing herbs together. She also looked familiar to him but he couldn't place her. He also knew she was an enemy as he had no allies nearby the village. He wondered if she would poison him but... no. She seemed to be helping him. Nituna did as much as she could then moved to bring him back to the village but Yuma stood and gave a dip on his head in thanks then rushed off without a word. Nituna blinked in bewilderment and glanced down at what he had been laying on. A warrior cloth... with the symbol of the enemy tribe. She glanced back up in horror as realization sunk in and then wondered, if he had been an enemy why did he not strike her down?
A few days later the village was attacked again. This time with more hardened warriors that devastated the village. Nituna's guards were dead and she had taken one of their weapons to defend herself, but she lacked the training to match her enemies. As one warrior approached her while the others blocked her exit she knew he time was up... and glared defiantly at her enemy. He removed his head covering and she bit back a gasp. It was the male from the other day. She could see they both remembered who the other was now. Yuma stood just as proud and solemn as ever before giving Nituna a smirk and motioned for his men to leave. He gave a half turn before glancing back and telling her this was the thanks she got for saving his life... next time they met she would not be so lucky. Nituna glared at gave a scoff. She would like to see HIM get so lucky again as to get near her. The answering glare accepted her challenge.
Nituna trained and Yuma honed his skills and they would meet again many times. Yuma made sure to follow Nituna from village to village and they would always have a battle. Sometimes she would win, sometimes he would but they always spared the others life for the thrill of the next times challenge. The war went on around them but they were content with the balance they found between fighting and acquaintances. Soon though they were both called back to their fathers and went their separate ways mournfully.
Yuma stood before his father stoically as he heard the news. The opposing Chief was having a contest for his daughters mate. Yuma's father wanted him to enter and win so he could kill her and take over. He agreed and went to prepare. Nituna however was not very happy over the prospect of this contest. She had no interest in mating anyone nor did she like being a prize but her father had spoken and she would obey.
Before the contest both tribes had their ceremony for new adults to get their true names. Everyone was excited over their Chiefs son or daughter getting theirs. No longer would they be children with names given... now they would be adults with names chosen. Neither Yuma nor Nituna shared the name they chose with anyone.
The contest had arrived and many suitors were there but Yuma knew he could beat them all. He was Chieftain's son.. the strongest of the strong. And he knew Nituna like none of the others did. The contest was swift, with Yuma beating all opponents easily. They were from peaceful villages that knew nothing of fighting like he did and it came as no surprise that Yuma was the winner. Both Yuma and Nituna were taken to get ready for the ceremony, getting dressed in the finest feathers, their hair done, and painted markings drawn on.
They arrived in front of the Chief and glanced at each other, Nituna in curiosity and Yuma in confliction. he knew his father and his warriors were waiting outside the village for him to do his duty, but he too... was tired of war. He glanced down and saw a matching bird on her leg and smiled "Eagle?" Nituna blinked but shook her head "Hawk". Then smiled and brushed his hoof with hers "My name is now Liluye". He blinked in surprise but gave an answering smile "And I am now Dyami" Everything was silent after those few words. Dyami's father was at the gate also just staring as he met the eyes of the other Chief and they both bowed their heads in silent understanding. The Hawk and Eagle had been here all along.. it seemed their children were more attuned to it than they were.
"And so Dyami and Liluye were joined as mates and combined their tribes under one name and family and entered a period of eternal peace. The End!" Blue eyes blinked up innocently at the dark male "Is that REALLY how you and mommy met, daddy?" Dyami gave a grin to his mate who rolled her eyes as she tucked in the child's little sister "Of course it is! It was destiny we'd be together". The child giggled as he went to sleep and dreamed of a Hawk and Eagle flying together for eternity.
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 9:53 am
Male's name: Shashtan
Male's personality and/or brief bio: See story.
Female's name: Matha
Female's personality and/or brief bio: See story.
Your tale:
The wind whipped high over the plains with the threat of rain, of the storm which even now gathered over the western horizon in dark, blue-black clouds and the faint rumble of distant thunder. The grass bent low over the water-starved earth, rippling like an ocean. The Soquili had gathered, ready, waiting. The enemy was nearby, would take this opportunity that the weather gave them, and would soon strike. They knew this without anyone having to say so aloud. Few words were exchanged at all, but they were prepared for the coming battle.
“Do you anticipate it?”
Matha did not look at Shashtan, but her teeth bared in a gruesome, bloodthirsty smile as she spoke. “You know the answer to that as well as I do.”
“I do.”
They stood side by side, flank by flank, not touching nor needing to touch, able to feel the adrenaline quiver through the other’s flesh despite the air between them. They knew each other far too well.
“They’re moving away,” Matha observed. “You smell it.” It was not a question. She knew he did.
When Shashtan answered, it was not an answer. His nostrils twitched against the wind. “They think to fool us,” he said.
“They will move downwind.” Matha moved away, abruptly, tossing her head against the gusts, momentarily shutting her eyes against the dust that blew. She stamped her hoof against the parched ground, and let out a wordless whinny to the Soquili who turned to look at her. They understood, and obeyed, and shuffled their ranks defensively. They had no formal leader, but Matha was one they would listen to.
When she turned to Shashtan again, she saw him for the first time as he was now, battle-ready, his body smeared defiantly with warpaint as was her own. He was as terrifying as the enemy, as the Skinwalkers which lurked, somewhere, in the gloom and darkness and growing storm. She grinned again, humourlessly.
Shashtan, impatient, came to her, touched her neck with his muzzle and breathed through her mane. Matha could smell the bloodlust on him, his excitement and fear mingled, and it enthralled her, for she felt the same. They were of one soul, one mind, it sometimes seemed. On the battlefield, it was said, they acted as one in two bodies. That was true. And, it was said, that away from the rages of war they were lovers, the closest of mates, bound by deep and unending love.
And that was wrong.
Matha knew it well. Oh, they were lovers, that was true, if such a word was appropriate. And they knew each other well. They had no secrets from the other. But love? She did not think so. They had a passion, they had a closeness, they were well matched in all things, they each filled the needs and desires of the other without trying, met the other’s intensity and ferocity equally and with strength, and were close because it was right, because it was good as so few things these days were. Love was a thing for peacetime, for souls more gentle and submissive than either of them.
So no, not love. Matha did not think so. She knew Shashtan did not think in such terms, either.
But they had no secrets.
“The wind is with us,” she said, pointlessly.
“They cannot best us,” Shashtan answered, equally pointlessly. He drew back, grinning at her, eager for something to happen and in an agony of waiting that she knew well, for she shared it, though she appeared more stoic to any outside observer.
An alarm, soft, came from one of the others, but the scent of the enemy, nearby, had already touched Matha and Shashtan’s nostrils. They turned, slightly, but warily. The chance of trickery was high.
“Soon,” Matha assured Shashtan. He exhaled sharply, quivering with the need to act.
After the battle, as after all battles, they would emerge together, they would come together in a fury of passion and spent energy, and their world would be only themselves, and it would make the reality more bearable. The war was misery, even if the battles were what the two of them lived for.
The enemy drew close. “Matha,” Shashtan groaned.
“Wait,” she told him. He waited. He would always listen to her.
The battle mindset was settling over her. The other mares there were now only comrades-in-arms, and she did not think, as she sometimes did with a peculiar mix of grief and pity, of the dalliances Shashtan had among them. That he always came back to her was a comfort. She knew he would always come back to her, as she would always return to him, helplessly, unable to escape the irresistible gravity.
It was not love, on either side. They were two halves of one soul, and could not exist without the other.
The sky was slate-coloured. The storm was very close, and the thunder broke and rumbled like drums. The scent of the Skinwalkers, lurking in no real formation, no real organisation, was around them. They would attack soon. Matha and Shashtan looked at each other, communicating everything wordlessly, as they did in these moments.
At a silent signal, in the moment before the enemy could strike, the Soquili struck first.
And then there was only the battle, and the mingled joy and rage the two found in it.
Edited immediately after to fix a typo. Coughahem.
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 10:47 am
Vance, you made me study, you! *shakes fist* Male's name: Heammawihio - Cheyenne name meaning "wise one above." Male's personality and/or brief bio: Hio, like his name suggests, is a wise warrior, hardened with age. Though he is no longer the colt he used to be, his tactics and skill grew with him. He came across a young filly when he was still a young adult, cowering in the tall grasses, sheltered from a raging forest-fire. She was full of unmistakeable horror and sorrow yet he saw a potential warrior in her eyes and took her in, naming her after the fire that surrounded her dying home: 'Keezheekoni'. Female's name: Keezheekoni - Cheyenne name meaning burning fire." Female's personality and/or brief bio: Koni cannot remember much of her past before she met Hio. He was frightening then: yellow war paint splattered across his face. She knew then that Hio was a grand warrior. A warrior that had ended many lives. Yet when her sapphires met his liquid amber eyes, she felt the presence of home like no other. A shelter that couldn't die; a shelter that could fight back fire, death and destruction. And it was the shelter that young, insecure filly of yesterday needed. Your tale: "Look there, Koni, what do you see?" The fields burned within Heammawihio's eyes, tinted red. Dying.
"The Great Plains...?" Keezheekoni tried, she really did, yet she couldn't see the world as her mentor did. Where she saw life he insisted on visible presence of death. They were scouting, plotting a raid of the nearby village. The huchmom, the mountain people, lived right across an expanse of plains. Of course, they wouldn't be expecting a tremendous terror of a herd to steal across like a flash-fire. They never did.
Fire. The word that scorched both warriors' minds, sizzling in both desirable and frightening ways. For Hio, fire was the giver. The unbeknownst mother that bore for him a daughter. The gentle second nature that united him with his mistress. A mystic string that encircled his heart, pulling him in everywhich direction it desired. For Koni, fire was the undertaker, disguising death with its brilliant colours. Atakapa, man eater, she called it. It consumed not only flesh and organ but ground every concerned child's heart to bits. She was grateful for the fragments of her heart that Heammawihio preserved within his own.
They were each others, he and she. The two would fight to the end together, as Koni's brilliant war paint suggested. Yellow feathers were forever strung into her mane and situated on her rump to signify the fact that her life would be nothing without the one who placed them there in the first place: Heammawihio. Each black stripe spoke for every victory they'd had so far; in the next raid another would be present, surely. Ocher was abundant, and Koni enjoyed her personal time with Hio, drawing symbols in each other, colored red, representing their unspoken, requited love. Heammawihio's paints, though far less flashy when compared to Keezheekoni's, sent across a clear message. White for mourning, red for love. For others, it would show that the stallion wasn't playing around. He would kill. Would leave room for mourning. But to him, it presented a far more meaningful message: 'Destroy my love and you shall mourn.'
At a hawk's cry, another ten figures appeared behind the two. Silent with shadowed faces, all tall and built: perfect warriors. Their movements were practiced, broken into their skins. All male, save for Koni, whose face instantaneously froze, turned into a mask of stone. Emotion was weak here. Emotion got you hurt. Killed. And no one would hold back for you. They were like a family, yes, but no foolish stalling for a man down. Every promise was etched in blood. The only "save" was revenge.
A bead of sweat. A gulp of saliva. Bloodshot eyes. Breached skin. War.
It could've been a single whistle of the wind or a distant animal cry that initiated movement of the herd, but there was a sudden rushing of hooves. A movement that first froze time, then forwarded to the point of breaching the border.
Slowing down once more. Hearts beating. Veins pulsing. Minds set to kill.
Blood. . .
- - - - - - - - - - - - - Morning...With first light came a sun shower, glittering diamonds littering the floor, leaving the colorless sky to mix with dried blood and charred wood. Keezheekoni stood amidst the destruction, eyes glazed over in mourning of the souls. She could feel their presence. It would have suffocated her if not for the strong, able stallion by her side, "must we have killed them, Heammawihio?" She wouldn't dare call him by an abridged name. No wandering soul in the wake of a battlefield would hear any name but the reinforced calling of a leader. She knew the answer to her question, but she was still the little filly of moons past. The nameless wonder once again, heartbroken by fire.
Hio's muscles tightened, but he said nothing, solemn by Koni's side. Keezheekoni sighed, looking down once more at the scarred, oozing child before her, her bloodstained ankles. Then she tilted her head up to blend the purest of blues with a flaming orange-red, looking to home.
Nothing changes.
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 11:35 am
Male's name: Quidel ("burning torch" in Mapuche)
Male's personality and/or brief bio: He's not touched upon as much in the story as Maiara is, so I'll give a little description. Member of a strong, proud herd, Quidel is one of their strongest warhorses. During the last battle of the great war, his rider is killed and, too far from home and knowing that if he turns back he will only be slaughtered in the midst of battle, he continues onward. He is eventually taken in by Maiara and her herd, and without any intention on his part, he falls in love with her. Because he knows that battle still rages in the distance and it will only be a matter of time until it finds him again, he is reluctant to stay, but his own misgivings are set aside for a time because he finds his match in Maiara.
Female's name: Maiara ("wise" in Tupi)
Female's personality and/or brief bio: In story!
Your tale:
She had never been good at trusting others. Raised in a land ravaged by war and famine, the cycle ever perpetuated by one another, she grew from a tough, wary filly into a cynical and guarded mare. Those she allowed close enough to her heart to be considered family she protected with an almost vicious intensity, and all others, she shunned out of self preservation. She'd seen too many die, watched too many times while soft hearts took in more mouths than they could feed. Before she was even old enough to understand the reason why, she made a promise to herself that she would never allow one of her own to die slowly before her eyes, fading away due to lack of nourishment.
Maiara would sooner turn away a hungry child than she would deprive her own sisters and brothers of the precious commodities of grass, water. Many times she was forced to be the backbone for her tiny herd, the pillar of strength that they looked upon with horror, but were helpless to do anything but fall in line with her decisions. After all, she was not unkind. After all, she kept them alive.
While others were free to vent their rage to the heavens and spill tears onto the soil, she never permitted herself to grieve. Though she'd done her best to bury it beneath resentment and practicality, she had a heart that yearned for the comfort of a shoulder to lean on. Knowing herself, and understanding this, she knew that she could never indulge in such an action or she would lose her edge forever - and her herd would disappear into the pages of history, a forgotten line in the two-legger's stories. She could not allow that to happen.
But, as they often do, time changed. The humans stopped their bickering, and the grass began to grow. The perpetual war-haze that clouded the skies disappeared, and flowers bloomed underneath her hooves. The land was restored, and like shy creatures used to the night, slowly, her fellows began to creep into the strange world known as peace. Maiara held back, always poised and tense for the booming drums of battle, but even they did not come.
Her brothers and sisters became placid, and soon their ribs disappeared from the naked eye. In the freedom of a land where war was a memory easily forgotten, love bloomed, bellies swelled with the promise of a bright future. All around her, she watched as those who had stood beside her, behind her, turned their backs and forgot all that she had done for them. Betrayal was a hot poker in her heart, but when she saw their happiness, she fought against herself, learned to forgive them.
After all, this was what she had been fighting for, the reason she had kept them all together. For a time of peace.
Slowly, her heart learned to accept that the turbulence of war could not be forever. She began to relax, and the humor she'd buried for so many years peeked out through guarded eyes and small, tight smiles. Before she knew it, she found herself frolicking with the foals of her family, and the burdens of her soul began to slip away. She stopped being suspicious of strangers, and welcomed new faces to the land, Soquili and two-legger alike.
One, she welcomed to more than just her home. One, she allowed into her heart.
He was a traveler, and when she found him, he reminded her of the past. His mane was matted to his head, thick with dirt and blood, and she could see the evidence of a long journey with little food in the display of his skin stretched taut over ribs. His face was streaked with the colors of war, and though he could barely stand, there was a fire in his eyes that called to her soul. At once, she recognized him, and though she had never met him prior to their eyes locking, she knew.
He kept his distance, and even when she brought him food and nursed him back to health, they bickered. When he had the strength to, he tried to chase her away, and they fought. Maiara learned his name only when she knocked him from his hooves, and even though it wasn't the sweet, girlish love that her sisters had, she knew that she had found a true match for her spirit in the dark, abrasive stallion.
She challenged him to a battle, and the stakes were high. If she won, he became her mate, and stayed with her herd. Quidel agreed only on the terms that, if he won, she leave behind all she knew and become a nomad with him, never looking back on any land they traveled through. She agreed, and they fought.
Neither's pride would allow the other to win, and though she was smaller in size, Maiara was faster. Regardless, at the end of the battle, both stood on unsteady legs, bleeding from more than one place. Though the wounds were largely superficial, when her knees buckled, it was obvious who the victor had been.
Saying goodbye was something she was unused to, but with Quidel by her side, she spoke to those who mattered. On the eve of their departure, a two-legger painted the once-familiar stripes along her body, kissing her forehead and sending her with the protection of the tribe. Though he did not trust them, Quidel allowed his own body to be decorated, and urged his mate to leave as soon as it was done.
One more night, she requested. She wanted to see the sun rise on her home once more before she left. Reluctantly, he agreed.
The next morning, the sky was painted with gold and red, chillingly beautiful. As they crested the top of a hill, behind them, earsplitting cries echoed across the land, and slow, deep drums pounded over the early morning birdsong.
War had found them once more.
As one, they turned, heads lowered, and galloped down the hill, back into the devil's cradle.
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 11:45 am
Male's name: Danawa Ahigalusti (War Hawk on cert)
Male's personality and/or brief bio: War Hawk is a brave stallion. He has fought with his two-legger for many years now and is well versed in the ways of battle. He is proud and wise though like his rider, shares a childishness that comes out briefly but when it does, does not go unnoticed or unappreciated.
Female's name: Tawodi Usdi (Little Hawk on cert)
Female's personality and/or brief bio: Though new to the war horse life, she is proud to be welcomed into it. It has been her dream since foalhood. She is stubborn, proud and brave, all good qualities for the duties she will soon face. She has a no-nonsense attitude but War Hawk will no doubt change that as the two get to know one another.
Your tale:
The two Native Americans stood tall and proud. One was exceptionally older than the other. He carried a map of his experiences on his body. His hair was graying at the sides but his body was strong. Each scar upon it came with a story, telling of the many from battles he had faced.
The younger brother had no such scar. No such story. He was both brave and scared though he would never admit to the latter. This was his destiny. This was what he had waited a long time for and had started preparing for as a child. This would be his first battle but he was proud to fight alongside his brother. He would be proud to die for his people. His freedom.
"Danawa Ahigalusti", the older man called. It was a quiet command. Though firm, it did not hold any malice. Within seconds, a large stallion came into the clearing. He was beautiful, big and strong much like the man that rode him. Though they did not speak the same language, there was a quiet understanding between them. The stallion cocked his head and neighed at his friend before taking his battle stance. He had been through this many times. This silent ritual between friends.
The younger Indian stood quietly and respectfully to the side as he watched his older brother paint the horse. The markings on the horse protected them during battle. The stallion's name meant War Hawk and it was for that the he had the symbol of a hawk upon his leg. There was a bond between war horse and warrior that many believed went unmatched in this world. When they were together, they were connected as one would not survive without the other.
It did not take long for the elder man to paint his horse as he was experienced in such a task. He grunted with pride and puffed out his chest and the young man kneeled to choose his own colors from the bowls strewn about. He called forth his own horse but was quickly stopped by his elder brother.
"No," the elder brother stated firmly, stopping the younger man in his steps. "I have a gift for you." With a stern cry, he called out and a soon a mare trotted forth. She was young but she was strong and beautiful. You could tell by her legs that she could run fast and her body was well muscled. Though equally inexperienced, a brave pride shimmered in her eyes and she was ready to join the ranks of the horses she had long admired. The young warrior stood transfixed for a moment before he took to the task of painting her.
"Tawodi", he breathed. "Tawodi Usdi". He said no further word. With gentle hands, he began to paint her. He started out with a symbol of a hawk on her leg, same as his brother had only he chose a different color. Once that was completed, he took his time to paint the rest of her body. This took much longer than the first warrior but no complaint was made. This was a special experience. The younger warrior could take all the time to find the right design for his horse as the paint would help protect her. The warriors believed this with all of the heart and spirit. The mare could feel the love in the hands. She knew that this two legger would protect her. She was already beginning to understand the bond she had always been curious to know.
The older man crossed his arms and hmmphed but tears welled up in his eyes at the honor his younger brother had shown towards him. This honor was shared equally with his stallion, War Hawk. If any had been paying attention, they might have seen both human and horse staring with the same cocky but proud grin on their faces.
When the younger warrior finished, a seriousness came over them once again. The brothers picked up their weapons and climbed upon the freshly dried horses. With a cry into the air, the elder one raised his tomahawk and charged forth, galloping to where the others would be waiting. It was time to fight. The younger brother cried out as well and followed closely to the side.
"Little Hawk, eh?" War Hawk called out as the mare ran beside him.
"I rather like it," the mare huffed back, clearly proud of her new name.
"Think you can keep up, little bird?," he teased gently and charged forth, taking the lead of the Kawani band.
"You have yet to see me soar!" she countered and spurred forth effortlessly to fall back at his side. She would not take the lead. It was his position in the group that he had earned but she did look forward to earning her own right to lead one day.
"Then let us fly into battle together," War Hawk called back at the mare. His body began to tighten as they ran across the land. It would not be long now.
"And together, fly back home." she finished, meeting him step by step.
The stallion and mare ran towards the sound of distant drums. Their nostrils flared with the scent of smoke in the distance. They did not know that this day would start a new life for both of them. They did not know that they would share many battles together, protecting the two-legger brothers well into their lives. They did not know that they would fall in love and bear many foals or that those foals would grow up to protect the Kawani villagers as they have devoted their life into doing.
The two were destined to soar together, in spirit, body and heart.
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 12:46 pm
Male's name: Qaletaqa- Hopi name meaning "guardian of the people."
Male's personality and/or brief bio: Balanced. He is the calmer of the pair. He is wise and levelheaded and does not rush into battle without a plan. Woe unto you should you meet him in battle for he is a fierce warrior. He does not fight indiscriminately though.
Female's name: Keezheekoni- Cheyenne name meaning "burning fire." Keez for short
Female's personality and/or brief bio: She is rage incarnate. This mare has been through much in life. She can only be brought back to a relatively calm state by her mate, Qaletaqa. She is brash and bold, eager to do battle, but only with those that deserve her wrath. What is the usual trigger? No one knows, but it's said that she does not attack the innocent or the young.
Your tale:
The night was harsh and bitterly cold. Most creatures were safely ensconced in some warm shelter or at the very least asleep somewhere. It was late and a bird called out in the darkness. A flash of cream and red darted through the underbrush just outside the Kawani settlement.
"Do you see any signs Keez ?" The red stallion murmured to his mate. Better to keep one's voice down so as not to give any sort of advantage to enemy spies.
The pale mare shook her head in response, "Nothing at all my love. Those damn pelted monsters!" She let out a snort of displeasure. Nothing stirred the urge to fight and destroy more than a skinwalker. The pair were on the trail of a particularly vicious one. One that both knew personally....all too well.
There was a time were they had retired from doing battle. Things had seem peaceful. Until that fateful day...the cuffs and paint hid the scars of the skinwalker attack that nearly killed her. Had it not been for Qaletaqa, her dear friend, Keez would surely have been dead. Now they hunted, seeking to end the terror of the catwalker that had nearly ended her life. The two had fought and won against two of the demons so far.
It was more due to Qaletaqa's strategies than to Keez 's charge in attitude. The beige mare turned to her mate with a sadistic grin. That could only mean one thing, she had caught a sign. Somewhere a catwalker lurked. It was time to do battle. The pair wheeled around towards the west, away from the village and galloped toward their hated enemy.
As they faded out of sign into the darkness, a twin cry went up. "Hokay hey! It is a good day to die!"
THE END...for now
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 1:48 pm
Male's name: Ikuhabe {"he who causes fear"}
Male's personality and/or brief bio: Always in control, Ikuhabe is the leader of the tribe. He makes everyone do as he desires- even if it threatens them in some way. His antics aren't without good cause however, as he tries to turn others into stronger warriors through his tasks. He tends to bully Pazi often and knows it scares her to be in such close contact with him. Little does she know that he's head-over-heels for her. More in story.
Female's name: Pazi {"yellow bird"}
Female's personality and/or brief bio: She's very free, much like her namesake. Pazi will roam the open plains but return to duty when it calls. Outside of battle, she's a sweetheart whom is still quite snappy. She has problems trusting others, especially Iku. No matter how she feels about him, which is questionable on several occasions, she listens and obeys him in hopes that he'll leave her alone outside of combat. This has yet to happen. More in story.
Your tale: ((Sorry about the length... >< Mostly long because of how much could be built off of the story through RP, I think.))
"Don't touch me," Pazi threatened. Her mane was a mess and she herself filthy. Scratches and cuts embellished her body from the scrap Ikuhabe had led them into. Luckily, they'd beaten the mangy crop who had decided to tussle with their duo.
Iku ignored her and continued to step closer. He smirked and nudged her shoulder with his nose. "Come on, let's go share our hard earned winnings. Just me and you, huh?"
"No." She glared at him, trying to retreat. If she was caught trying to escape he'd likely hurt her, but she decided that would be better than what he had planned for their "celebration."
He was about to lunge at her when she kicked up sand and dashed off with all her might. Iku watched her quietly with a displeased look on his face. He walked the length back to his tent and trotted inside. One of his advisors comprehended what had gone on outside only by Ikuhabe's unpleasant attitude. Another show of unrequited love had taken place.
Meanwhile, Pazi successfully left the clutches of her tormenter. She was nestled in her tent, located very far away from Iku's. Her partner in crime was everything a mare could want, really- handsome, strong, powerful, and the tribe leader. But... to her... he was a jerk. Period.
Skipping back a few years~
The scars still remained from that treacherous day. So much had been done in a tedious effort to restore what once was. Why them though? Each tribe member never ceased to wonder why they had been chosen to be cruelly unveiled. Only two actually knew who was to blame.
It was a hot sunny day whilst the Kawani's residents went about their business. A trouble-making colt ventured into the lair of secrets to find his father, who wasn't there. He did some exploring against the strict code of conduct the Chief had set as not only Chief but as his dad as well. A vase was one of the first things to be broken by the little prince in his mischief. He shrugged it off and didn't care. Ikuhabe left the lair, unaware of what he'd unleashed.
A small, gentle filly roamed the area around her tent like a guard. She enjoyed playing guarding and war games to grow up a strong warrior. Having lost her mother long ago, due to the mare's nature, the foal took advantage of growing up with an exceptional warrior in the home. She wanted to be just like him. Glancing over towards the lair of secrets, she saw the Chief's son come parading out. A pink-tinted Pazi quickly sprinted out of view.
The Chief returned from his outing to find his death waiting at the lair of secrets. The vase that now lay broken on the floor had contained many horrible, untamed spirits that either couldn't move on or were prohibited from leaving. Among them was Pazi's mother who had been kept from moving on. After they were freed there was no way to stop them from their course. In no time the Chief's soul was devoured alive.
The dying sound of the Chief reached Iku's ears first. He rushed over. Someone shoved back the prince. "Don't go in there, kid. It's for you own good. Chief's gone, son. You have to go and save yourself. Now!" The colt frowned and stomped his hoof before going straight to Pazi.
"Pazi!" Ikuhabe burst through Pazi's tent's doors. "Dad's gone. The... the.. spirits got him! The ones that were housed with your mother...!"
Pazi twitched her ear and jumped up to stalk towards him. "P-Please Iku, I'm begging you. If there's anything anyone can do.... Just don't let my mom get to me. Please." Her eyes began welling up and she stood close to Iku's face.
"I-I'll try. Mark my words, I will." He stood proud, even despite the overwhelming amount of tears from Pazi.
Right then, a bluish mist surrounded the edges of the tent. Pazi moved backward away from it and Ikuhabe jumped back to protect her from whatever may come. The mist came into the tent and towards Pazi. The filly shrieked and began hyperventilating. Iku glanced at her and tried smashing the mist with a hoof. It did nothing but irritate it. Somehow the spirit could bite at his ankles and then passed on to make way to Pazi.
"No. No..." Iku stalked the mist and wasn't sure what to do. He looked up. "Pazi, what do I-" His breath caught. "P-Pazi?" Her face had lost color and twisted up into a disturbing shape. The spirit slipped into the filly's body and she fell onto the ground. No breathing, No eye fluttering, not a single movement. He slowly proceeded and touched her with his nose. Her eyes weren't blue when they shot open. They were blood red and puffy. All over her body were strange paint-like markings. He looked at the blood on her hooves and then spotted markings on his legs. Leaning over to see his back, he saw that he too was "painted" with lines.
Ikuhabe's brain flashed back to one of his older lessons in his duties as a Chief. One had to do with curses, rewards, consequences and spirits. He thought the lecture over and had to go read something. Pazi's life could depend on it but he couldn't leave her. Torn, he nuzzled her cheek and then dashed off. Outside, many of his tribe lay dead on the grounds with the spirits nowhere in side. Oh God... he thought. Iku ran off towards the Prophet Room. Sure enough, the guards weren't alive yet hadn't left their post. He stepped in the large text and searched for a book. He spotted it and loped over to flip it open. Turning to the correct page with important lines of information.
It read, "Curses: Can be caused by spells, other warriors, or most commonly caused by evil spirits. If one is cursed by a sprit, it not only affects them but the one they love as well." He stopped there and froze. The one they love? Nobody else had shown any signs of a curse outside. Ikuhabe sighed softly and then trotted off after reading a bit more.
"Pazi," he whispered. "There's not cure. You're stuck like this. B-But we can get your mom out of you. Somehow... I promise." He leaned over to nuzzle her again and set out to discover whether the shaman was killed or not. Lucky for Iku, he survived. The colt explained what had happened and led the elderly male to Pazi's body. She'd gotten up and was blinking at everything slowly, like she was trying to fight what was trying to take over her mind.
The shaman got himself over to her and placed his nose against her chest and told Iku just how much power Pazi's mother was carrying. The filly shuddered and collapsed with heaving breaths. Close to death, she closed her eyes. Ikuhabe frantically pushed the shaman to get on with it. He told the foal to have patience. He walked forward slowly with his tools and Iku turned away. He couldn't watch but sure heard it all. Each of the shaman's grunts and all of Pazi's cries. He heard glass and a lid locking on.
Suddenly, it was silent. The only sound was shuffling of hooves on soft dirt. The shaman nudged Iku as a sign he could look now. He thanked the male for his immense help with her. He cautiously approached her and her eyes fluttered ever so slightly. He sighed a breath of relief as she awoke. "Hey," he whispered.
"Mmm," she replied with tears in her eyes. She stood up and regained her balance and strength one step at a time.
Ikuhabe fell in love right then and there. Pazi, at her most vulnerable and looking her worst, put him right over the edge. How could anyone else make him care so much? It didn't matter now that she was okay and here to stay. They'd forever be bonded by their markings and her feelings. She gave a weak smile and he grinned at her. Without speaking, they knew they were destined to be an inseparable pair.
Will he win her heart back in time or will she break away? Only time will tell.
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 1:57 pm
(( Woot, thanks all for the entries thus far! *is enjoying reading these* biggrin
I noticed a lot of people incorporating humans into the stories, which I hadn't even thought about! That's fine and cool, but if you want to focus on horses only it's A-OK as well! ))
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 3:03 pm
Male's name: Getsuei [moon]
Male's personality and/or brief bio: He is cold and very rude to everyone. He is Kanone's partner and secretly in love with her as well. He is weaker than her, but tries not to show it. He tries to be independent, but he secretly would do anything for her.
Female's name: Kanone [fang]
Female's personality and/or brief bio: She loves the taste of blood on her lips, she loves to race and to spare. She is cold blooded but very wise when it comes to decisions. She is oblivious to Getsuei's feelings for her. She boses him around without a second thought.
Your tale:
The day was over, the sun had been swallowed by the unforgiving earth and the moon opened its eyes. And what it saw were two Soquili, painted and blood lust piercing their eyes. They were in a gallop, they had been running for a few hours but they were not even winded yet. Their muscles tensed and their heads and ears low. The wind blew past them, cutting their faces, breathing life and power into their lungs. Adrenaline pumped through their veins, making their strong hearts beat. Their hooves kicked up dirt and their tails flicked with the wind in a wild dance.
Suddenly Kanone stopped. Getsuei's legs reacted a little after hers. The stopping was sudden so he nearly stumbled. Their ears and noses were working.
"Do you smell that?" Kanone asked with venom and ice in her voice.
"Do you hear that?" Getsuei returned the question, with even more coldness in his response.
They smirked at each other. Exchanging the information through their frozen gaze, information both already knew. Food.
They ran in the same direction. Their legs tensed and kicked from the earth at the same moment. Their invisible connection was the strongest during a hunt. Their brains hummed at the same pace, their heart beat was one and their bodies were side by side.
Kanone gave the unseen signal to turn quickly into the bush when the scent of food had strengthened, indicating that they were near their prize.
They entered the bush and safety of the trees, hidden from their prey. A young deer. He still had velvet on his soft horns, and traces of the white foal spots were obvious to one's eyes.
Getsuei licked and smacked his lips, he was itching to run out, corner the poor thing and watch it run as pure terror reflected in its eyes. Kanone smashed her hoof into his, he clenched his teeth just in time not to scream in agony and let their prey escape.
"Don't you dare scare this one away, last time you not only lost our meal, you also got your leg cut open when fighting a skinwalker!" She hissed at him, piercing his skull with her glare.
"It wasn't my fault, I hadn't seen her in the bush. And its only instinct to run after your prey, and then fight for it!" He spat back, fighting back tears. She had one nasty kick.
"Oh, so now you lost a fight you could have easily won and you were beaten by a girl no doubt," Her voice rose slightly, but not enough for the grazing dear to pick up.
"The gender doesn't matter! And I think of it as a lesson, something that teaches you better tactics." He hissed, showing his sharp teeth, both their blood rising.
"You need all the lessons you can get! Why am I even your partner? Scratch that, why are you MY partner!?" She growled, flashing her teeth as well.
"Your right! Why did I ever chose you? I could have found a real partner! One who doesn't make me sleep outside and have the smaller portion of the kill while claiming its 'Good for me"." He barked at her in a mock tone.
They were now both in a rage, their faces were touching, and their glare was unbroken. If it were possible, and if it did not defy the laws of physics and space. Sparks would be flying and the forest would be on fire.
They glared at each other for awhile until Kanone spoke, through clenched teeth, "Get. The. Deer."
"Fine." He growled back.
They both turned their heads slowly, never breaking their glare. They expected to see the deer grazing, oblivious to the fight they had just displayed. But what they saw was nothing. Empty nothing. The clearing was empty.
Kanone's jaw dropped to the ground.
"You. Let. It. Go." Her glare intensified ten fold.
"YOU LET THE DEER GO YOU BAS-" She jumped on him in a tackle. Crushing him with her strong hooves. Biting at his mane and ears. Her screams were muffled with mouthfuls of hair and the odd limb. But Getsuei's screams echoed through the vast forest. And the sound of such horrible agony was what made the deer, that had taken to grazing in the nearby berry bush, run away. Only now, had it escaped.
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 6:37 pm
Male's name: Ahiga Niyol
Male's personality and/or brief bio: Roguish, stubborn, doesn't give in without a very fierce fight, likes arguing when it's fun and with someone who also enjoys arguments, likes flirting, but won't ever cheat on a warrior mare he likes: that's otnay ootay ightbray.
Female's name: Takala Lomahangva
Female's personality and/or brief bio: Spirited, a bit of an amazon and a bit of a feminist, doesn't think she's pretty, feels beauty is unimportant in the grand scheme of things, doesn't like how pretty her name is, likes a good argument
Your tale:
Takala Lomahangva grinned eagerly at her prisoner in this fight. Ahiga Niyol, the prisoner, just glared back. It was insulting that she had caught him like this in the first place, and even more insulting that she had ignored all of his attempts to flirt, aside from a very casual kick when he'd tried. Who did this mare think she was???
Takala didn't even notice Ahiga's obvious irritation. She had captured him in a fight, fair and square, so silly thoughts on his part of escape, dignity, and flirtation were totally out of the question, so far as Takala was concerned. Takala was very proud. Her first capture, and a very powerful war pony, indeed, had been her capture.
Ahiga planned to get out of this situation as soon as possible, and if flirting hadn't worked, well, he was going to so piss her off that she'd take her sky blue eyes off him for a moment. He grinned evilly. "You know, girly, I've figured it out," he began slyly.
"What?" Takala demanded irritably.
"Oh, why you don't like me. You're so embarrassed that a pretty mare like you is so uncouth and dangerous that you couldn't even *hope* to get a night with me, the handsomest stallion you've ever met."
Takala exploded then and there. *No one* called her pretty, and *no one* dared insult her like that. Unfortunately for Ahiga, his plan backfired, and Takala launched herself at him with a wild scream of vengeance. Ahiga was so startled by this turn of events that Takala very quickly got the upper hand, or rather, upper hoof. Their fun little fight would have gone on longer if Takala's commander, Ahote Chochokpi, hadn't stopped by to check in on his favorite girl in this army and her first prisoner, of whom he'd only heard rumors that she'd captured.
"Well, well, well, this is an unexpected turn of events, Takala Lomahangva. You're better than expected in this fight. You caught our enemy himself, Ahiga Niyol." He grinned. Ahiga had a bit of a reputation in these parts, and the war looked like it was going to end soon if Takala had Ahiga in her custody. Such a shame. He'd wanted to continue until he could bring home enough silver to make jewelry to deck out his lovely Takala. Oh, well.
As the commander strolled away, Takala stared at Ahiga, totally unaware of her commander's feelings for her. "You never said you were Ahiga," she said accusingly.
"Of course I didn't," he snapped at her as he stood, heaving. "No true war pony is that honest to his enemies." He grinned. "I'll say this for you: it may be your first battle, beloved of Ahote Chochokpi, but you fight well."
Takala stared for a moment before she growled. "War-chief Ahote is my war-chief, nothing more, nothing less." The very thought of Chochokpi being her "beloved" struck her as beyond silly: for the sake of all the gods, he was old enough to be her elder brother, and had been loved by plenty of other mares back home, so why her?
Ahiga grinned roguishly. "Well, if you're not with me and the war's over, why not be with me?" He *liked* this spirited mare.
Takala snorted. "No."
Ahote watched the interactions of the two with growing anger. His enemy was *flirting* with *his* mare. The famed Ahiga Niyol needed to die for this. Tonight. He would present silver jewelry to his Takala on cord made of Ahiga's hide and mane. As his mare, Takala would wash away her war paint and be the quiet, obedient mate he wanted her to be, living a life free of fights and supporting him as the leader of their community, thoughts that would have repulsed Takala.
Takala had moved off to get some water for herself and her prisoner when she heard the screams of two furious stallions in battle. Startled, she dashed back to see what was happening. Ahote's cry, *and* Ahiga's cry?
The two stallions were locked together in their own fight, unaware of Takala's presence. "I guess Takala was mistaken about you, Ahote," Ahiga said with his roguish grin. "You really do want to make her your own pretty little pony and put her on a pedestal somewhere, decked in silver and free of the warpaint."
"Oh? And I suppose someone like you would put a treasure like her in the line of fire and run around in that warpaint? It's sooo unbecoming of a mare, Ahiga. Besides, I thought the pretty ones were your type," Ahote snarled back.
"Well, what's not for a warrior to admire about Takala? She's strong, she's brave, she's committed to her fights, she doesn't give up, and a life painted by the eagles of war suits her pretty well. I think she'd dislike being a flower in your mane." Ahiga let go and kicked at Ahote's legs, knocking him down.
Takala had been listening, and she couldn't just stand on the sidelines anymore. She had to stand up for herself, and even though Ahiga was an enemy, he at least was going to treat her as a warrior mare. She charged at Ahote and kicked him.
Ahote stared up at her. "Takala?" he asked incredulously. "What are you doing here?"
"Rejecting your proposal. Got a problem with that?" Ahote just stared, but Ahiga grinned. Takala glared at Ahiga fiercely. "That doesn't mean I accept you, either, Ahiga Niyol."
"Of course not," Ahiga said cheerfully, casually aiming a kick at Ahote as he tried to get up and object. "I know this nice place where we can discuss our differences, without interruption. Sound good to you?"
"Perfectly," Takala said, turning her back on Ahote. As she and Ahiga headed off to where they could have this discussion, Ahote screamed after them, "Curse you, Ahiga Niyol! Curse you, and Takala Lomahangva! I'll get you for this outrage, someday!"
Ahiga and Takala said nothing to the injured Ahote Chochokpi, but they knew that they'd have to deal with Ahote, eventually. Once they'd discussed their petty little disagreements at length, though. Ack, sheezes, this came out longer than I anticipated. D8 I guess that's what it took to fully run with my idea, though. xd
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