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Post by Ehetere on May 31, 2009 2:35:42 GMT
Nepelle felt a biting pain on one of his flanks as the hesitant and inexperienced stallion lashed out at him viciously. He whipped his head around to see the faintest trickle of blood run down his leg; blending in with the colour of his coat. Nepelle leapt at the roan for giving him such a cut; barrelling towards him with his whole bodyweight behind him along with the strength of his hindquarters.
In that minute; he was no longer the gentle, kind hearted stallion who had chased a shy filly across the entire high country just to woo her. He wasn’t even the cocky stallion who had tempted that feisty Fira and her filly away from a bunch of unruly colts. He was the sun; ruler of the sky, fighting against the night. And he was fighting for the moon to be his. He roared his promise of victory to the sky and came at the roan; dancing, biting kicking, dodging, leaping attacking; all trying to wear him out and terrify him out of his wits.
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Post by yaruka on May 31, 2009 23:19:48 GMT
It was pretty safe to say that Bunda was not a fighter. It just simply wasn't in his personality. But he was trying, trying hard. He was trying for Goonama and Goolara, they were all that kept him going, kept him continuing to strike at the other as the chestnut barrelled at him. Unfortunately he clearly had the disadvantage at this point in the fight. He just didn't have the prior experience, the former knowledge to help him win this fight.
But the roan kept trying. Lashing out with his front hooves at the chestnut's chest, reaching forwards to bite him when he could. He was at least holding his own when it happened. He was lunging forwards at the oncoming chestnut when the other's sharp hoof caught him in the knee, it gave out and he crumpled, going down on his forelegs. Desperately he struggled to regain his feet but the chestnut was over top of him, making it impossible to stand.
OOC: ewwwwwww this post majorly fails. sorry. I am pathetic at fight posts. bleck.
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Post by Ehetere on Jun 1, 2009 2:24:21 GMT
Nepelle roared in triumph as the roan stallion collapsed to his knees. He kept biting and kicking though; not allowing him to regain his feet. Even if he did, Nepelle knew that he was finished. All the same; he could not help but admire the other stallion’s courage. Or was it stupidity or inexperience? He thought it was more likely to be courage; besides, where was the honor in beating a stupid horse? In similar situations, he had backed down when it was apparent that there was no chance of victory; allowing him to escape without being completely exhausted and beaten to a bloody pulp in the dirt. Perhaps the roan really was stupid after all.
Nepelle rose on his hind legs in a magnificent rear; claiming his victory to the sky. He would not be such a brute as to beat another stallion to his death. But in that instant, the mist closed in around him and enfolded him anyway, shrouding the beaten stallion from view. He could not even see the snow gum he knew was no more than a few feet in front of him. Nepelle called again; a longing call to his mate Kurrin. The fog filled him with a sudden loneliness, and he wanted nothing more than to feel the soft touch of her muzzle on his. But first he must collect his prize…
He trotted cautiously through the enveloping fog; nose outstretched trying to both detect the scent of the mysterious fillies and to warn him of any oncoming trees that he may otherwise run into by accident. Occasionally, he could have sworn that he smelt the two white wraiths, but the whirling white mass around him distorted it and he could not find a proper trail to follow. Gently, he called to them both through the mist, his voice low, enticing and inviting.
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Post by Tiggs on Jun 1, 2009 11:59:47 GMT
Kurrin had been trembling with worry as muffled sounds of the fight came through the mist. She could hear both Nepelle’s calls and some of the other stallion’s. Nepelle sounded like he was winning, but what could you really tell from a voice?
On the contrary, Fira was listening with rapt attention, even excited by the commotion. She wished she had stayed behind now to watch. Nepelle’s victorious calling sent a thrill through her. So the chestnut was good enough to win one fight, but that didn’t mean he had it in him to be King, however. Nevertheless, Fira was inspired to encourage him to aim for the title. He was handsome, and she would happily follow him if he were King. In the meantime, however, she supposed she would have to put up with him being below her usual expectations.
As Nepelle’s call reached Kurrin, she lifted her head and whinnied a faint reply. Fira gave her a sharp nip, “Do not be so feeble. Your stallion has won, congratulate him. You should be proud.” She said, though her voice was not completely devoid of its usual sarcasm. The chestnut mare lifed her head and called back to Nepelle, strong and loud. Rounding up Alinta and Kurrin, Fira decided she would like to see the state in which Nepelle had left the other stallion so she began to hustle the two younger horses back toward the scene of the fight.
While Nepelle claimed his prize, Fira would investigate the loser. If Nepelle had been ruthless enough, he might earn himself some favour with her.
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Post by Corowa on Jun 5, 2009 1:12:45 GMT
The two white fillies stood side by side, listening to the tremendous screaming of the fighting stallions. Goolara felt filled with a queer restlessness, and unable to stand still for any longer, the filly sprang madly away. Suddenly, Goonama was there kicking and striking, driving the anxious filly down into the whippy snowgums and dense scrub. When Goolara swung around with a throbbing neigh, Goonama quietened her with a swift nip. Aware of the intense silence of the bush, Goonama knew it was time to leave. Forcing Goolara to come, Goonama slipped through the messmate and hop scrub, moving quickly and quietly through when the mist thickened, became a smothering cloud of white.
Pressed close to her sister, Goolara crept carefully forwards. When those hidden mares called, Goonama shied violently to one side, vanishing into the strange floating mist. With a shocked cry, Goolara plunged after her, tore up one steep side of a ridge, then downwards into a deep damp gully. For a moment, the wind shifted and the mist cleared, and there was that fierce looking chestnut stallion. Wide-eyed with terror, Goolara turned and fled. Blindly she galloped down a shaly brumby track, half-seen branches whipping her head and flanks, breath sobbing in her chest. Stumbling over the rough, rocky ground, the filly leapt wildly over fallen branches, slipped and almost fell. Sweating and blowing, the filly felt herself tiring, knew that soon she must stop. Where the trees clumped thick about a shallow bush creek, the white filly backed hastily into the sheltering fringe of snowgums and ti tree. Heart thumping, she stood absolutely still, alone but for the gentle whisper of the mist.
Goonama found Bunda there beneath the branches of an old spreading snowgum. Nostrils quivering, ears flicking fearfully, the filly dropped her nose to touch his side. With the gentlest of nickers, the filly nudged him, glad to see he was alive. Aware Goolara was not there behind her; Goonama threw up her head and stood trembling in every limb. For where was that cruel chestnut stallion, where was Goolara, her sister of moonlight? With another of those gentle nickers, the filly melted away into the trees, promising Bunda she would return to him once more. OOC: Since Goolara is just running away in a total panic, feel free to have Nepelle hustle her off somewhere. Goonama's just going to watch on.
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Post by yaruka on Jun 6, 2009 16:16:10 GMT
OOC: aw, Bunda's not stupid, just hopelessly devoted I <3 him BIC: Bunda could do nothing more than brace himself under the chestnut's repeated blows. He could not stand, he did not think he had the strength even if the chestnut wasn't directly above him. At one point he wondered desperately if the other would kill him, surely had hadn't deserved that? His first fight, only a five year old and dead? The thought made him cringe inside, he would have at least liked to say goodbye to Goonama and Goolara, made sure that they were safe. He doubted if this stallion would allow that even if he did survive, but surely the chestnut would not be so brutal with his own mares? The thought of the two beautiful fillies in the ownership of a possibly violent stallion struck at Bunda the most powerfully. He had failed them. Desperately he sought to rise but knew it was no good. This stallion hadn't left the fight to chance. Bunda continued to lie there, feeling foolish and useless as the pain battered at him. Then, suddenly, the chestnut stopped his onslaught of hooves. Rearing up once more the other stallion called his victory to the sky and then all was silent as he moved away. Mist crowded closer about Bunda, as though it had waited for the fight to end before reclaiming its space. It provided good cover from potential danger while he was in this pitiful state, but equally it prevented him from seeing what was going on about him. Straining his ears, he listened for any sound of Goonama and Goolara. Nothing. Everything was oddly silent this strange morning. The roan stallion felt little to no relief at being left alive. Thoughts of the pale mares were foremost in his mind as grief and guilt tore at him in equal parts. Would they be okay? Bunda cringed as the chestnut's call to the two mares reached him, oddly distorted through the mist. Then another shape emerged from the cloudy white cover, the mist solidified into the figure of a horse. Bunda thought he must surely be dreaming. But the scent that met his nostrils seemed real enough, as did the soft muzzle nudging his side. He lifted his head weakly, peering over his shoulder at the beautiful shape of Goonama. Whickering hoarsely but gently to her, he made a valiant effort to stand. He was unsuccesful. Trying again he finally came to the conclusion that he would not be able to rise as a normal horse would. And he could not thrash about for momentum as he might were he alone for fear of hurting her. Perhaps he would not even be able to get up just yet if even he churned the ground with his bruised legs. So the stallion was forced to simply lay there. Gently the filly nickered to him, promising him she would return and Bunda felt a leap of hope in the midst of his despair. But it was almost immediately replaced by desperation. How was he supposed to protect the sweet filly in this state? And where was Goolara? Was Goonama's foolish sister still safe? As the filly moved off Bunda made renewed efforts to rise, swearing to himself that before the lovely filly returned he would be on his feet. Struggling once again, he was finally able to pull himself up, standing drenched in sweat, right front held high off of the ground. The battered stallion then limped to the edge of the clearing, standing beneath the old snowgum, body tense with focus as he strained to hear what Goonama or Goolara might be up to.
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Post by Ehetere on Jun 10, 2009 9:01:45 GMT
OOC: Sorry for the epic wait everyone, I had to do well on exams at school... *grumbles about stupid subjects*
Nepelle was about to give up hope of ever finding anyone in the blasted mist when suddenly it parted; as if sensing his thoughts, and there just in front of him was one of the mysterious ghostly fillies. Snorting in triumph he dove after her into the shrub. Never before had he seen a horse run on such a mad chase. The filly clearly was blind with terror, and he cloud do no more than follow her as closely as possible because of the hindering trees that closed around him. But then the pale wraith in front of him vanished; right under his nose as if she was part of the mist itself. But no; her scent still remained, so Nepelle crept carefully forward on her trail.
Nepelle was rather disappointed that the other filly had not been with this one. But in truth; he did not have the cruelness in his heart to force two mates apart. The other stallion’s efforts could be attributed to his devotion to his mate; and Nepelle simply did not find it in himself to separate two such horses; knowing what he felt about Kurrin.
He emerged at a creek; but the filly was still no where in sight. But her trail did stop here; so Nepelle figured that she was somewhere close. Again he whickered gently to her; not wanting to have scarred her. “I know you’re hiding in there; why don’t you come out and introduce yourself?” he called gently; peering through to bush trying to discern her pale outline from that of the thick trees.
Fira’s deep, distinctive call rang out loud and clear, and Nepelle pricked his ears with interest and answered her with his own neigh; telling her that he would find her and Kurrin soon. He then focussed his attention once more on finding that elusive filly; and aha! The filly’s distinctive colour was barely visible through the trees. Still he did not approach her for fear of terrifying her further. He would at least give her the opportunity to emerge from her hiding spot on her own terms.
The odd filly truly did seem to be terrified out of her wits and there was no way that Nepelle could win her over with her in such a state. When he brought her back with him, dear sweet Kurrin, he was sure, would help him convince the filly to see reason. If that failed he supposed that Fira’s brusque manner would prevail in the end. But for the moment it seemed that rather more direct leadership would be required, so Nepelle snorted threateningly and trotted forward with his head low; intending to herd her in the direction of Fira and Kurrin.
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Post by Tiggs on Jun 16, 2009 10:59:56 GMT
Fira could tell something was going on, her ears flickered with all the sounds coming muffled through the bush. She could only assume Nepelle was rounding up his bounty. The chestnut mare hurried the palomino and her daughter through the scrubby bush, finally coming to the scent of sweat and blood. Eagerly, she hushed Kurrin and Alinta and commanded them to stay while she investigated the losing stallion.
Weaving through the gnarled trunks, leathery leaves brushing her hide and making it prickle, she pushed her way to the churned clearing. Beneath an old tree, a battered roan stallion with a flaxen mane stood. The mare could not pick up the scent of the filly that had not long left under the oppressive scent of salty perspiration and tangy blood. Smirking, she saw the stallion could barely stand, one of his legs lamed.
With a shrill whinny, she stepped over to the stallion, nipped him viciously on the rump and wheeled away into the bush. Nepelle had done admirably. Albeit he hadn’t finished the other stallion off, but he would learn. Revengeful stallions roaming the High Country was not something a stallion like Nepelle would want. Fira returned to Kurrin and Alinta, and ushered them off to find Nepelle’s trail. She was in particularly high spirits after a bloody fight to entertain her, and once she found Nepelle’s trail, she stopped Kurrin from following it and simply waited for her stallion to return, prize in tow.
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Post by Corowa on Jun 26, 2009 1:53:44 GMT
A mare neighed, and the stallion answered, and Goolara remembered those shadowy brumbies, floating along on the mist. Feeling a shiver of dread run through her, the filly longed for her sister’s gentle wisdom. Hidden here in the thick scrub of ti tree and heath, Goolara dared not move, for surely the fierce looking chestnut would find her. Goonama was elusive, knowing the mysteries of the bush, how to melt away into the snowgums so it was as if she had never truly been. Possessing none of the wisdom of her beloved sister of the snow, Goolara could do no more than stand quietly, ears straining, listening for the faintest of sounds.
Goonama slipped through the trees, heart thudding painfully in her chest, filled with the most terrible of feelings. Driven on by fear for her sister, the filly stumbled down one rough side of ridge, for the swirling mist would hide her there in the deep gully. Turning sharply southwards, she followed the narrow thread of creek, on through the ti tree and candle heath. The tree ferns and blanket-woods glistened in the faint sunlight, which streamed through the leaves of the snowgums. Goonama shied sideways when a ribbon of old man’s beard brushed her flanks, moss all damp with rain and mist. Hide prickling with sudden fear, the filly hurried on, stopping in her tracks when a neigh rang out close by. There was a moment of silence, in which even the bush seemed hushed, and then the stallion gave his throbbing answer.
Trembling so badly with fear she could barely stand up, Goolara shrank down into the scrub when the stallion moved towards where she hid. When he pressed closer, she lashed out suddenly with her heels, whinnying shrilly, so terrified she did not see Goonama watching so silently from the shadows of the trees. Tossing up her head, her eyes showed the whites, fine head all flecked with lather. Giving another of those shrill whinnies, the filly squealed when he nipped her sharply, told her to hurry. Ears flattened, shaking with this sudden furious anger, Goolara hopped forwards on three legs. For now, she would let the stallion believe he held her, would let him think she was as timid as shy Goonama. In the night, she would slip away. When the moonlight drew her, and once more she answered its soft, elusive call.
Goonama watched on as the stallion drove her sister from the trees. When she hesitated and he nipped her roughly, the filly knew she would run with her sister no more. However, strong and proud as such a stallion surely was, Goolara was beautiful and insubstantial as the pale moonlight for which she had been named. How could this stallion, who possessed all the brilliance of the sun, ever hope to hold her? Nostrils rippling with the softest of whinnies, Goonama farewelled her sister. Filled with sadness, she turned back the way she had come, threading through the ghostly trunks of the snowgums, to where Bunda waited. Picking her way carefully down a steep shaly slope, Goonama wondered whether she would see her sister again. For would she ever dance with her again, when the moonlight blended so gloriously over snow?
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Post by yaruka on Jul 27, 2009 1:02:14 GMT
The chocolate roan looked up immediately at the sound of an approaching horse, but his eyes dimmed in disappointment as they met not the brilliant white of Goonama's fine pelt but a fiery chestnut mare instead. The mare clearly belonged to the chestnut stallion, she smelt of him, Nepelle's scent was not one Bunda was likely to forget anytime soon. He turned his head away, sure she must have happened on him by mistake and not about to risk communication with her lest the other stallion return and take what little he had left of his life, his physical existence and, most of all, sweet gentle Goonama. But to Bunda's intense surprise the other mare approached him, strutting boldy over before nipping him viciously on the flank.
Bunda's eyes widened with hurt and shock at the chestnut mare's malicious gesture. Nothing the poor stallion had seen in his young life would have made him suspect such bitterness in another brumby, not even what he had gone through today. For though the chestnut had fought brutally, he had left him with the mare he truly loved, his beloved Goonama. The chestnut mare smirked and Bunda did not know what to do. He would not retaliate, he would never hurt or scorn a mare, even one so wickedly tempered as this.
When the chestnut left him in peace he let his head hang again, thinking of Goonama once more and praying that she was still safe. He hoped the snow white mare would be able to get past the loss of her sister and be able to be happy with him. And most of all, he hoped he could keep her safe and prove himself worthy of such a fine mare, even if she could not think of him as her mate, espeically after today. He would take her companionship over not having her near at all, that was for sure.
OOC: Bunda lurves Goonama but he doesn't think he's worthy of her....poor buddy.
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