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Post by KAREE on May 22, 2009 11:32:48 GMT
A black silhouette of a horse ghosted past the red-orange horizon of the setting sun. The horse was very slender and petite. His nose dipped towards the centre and his tail was carried high, like a banner being raised and blown about by the rage of air. The horse was an arabian. Something not too often seen on the High Country. His lines too perfect and his coat too shiney to have been born there. He was an escaped horse, apart from the obvious, there was still a distinct human mixed with leather and sweat smell about him.
He danced across the wet plains; his legs where picked up in high graceful sweeps and his neck was arched so his chin bumped his chest occasionally. The orange-red colours bounced off his back. He was careful not to let his full weight hit only one hoof, but all four evenally so that he would not sink into the soft mud. His wide nostrils flared and he let out a long whinny. Toxic Chaos didn't know where he was, he had been running for hours non-stop and had only just recently managed to rid himself of the tack that had held him back. He whinnied again, the sound echoing through the soggy lands. He hadn't seen another horse in hours! Weren't these 'brumbies' meant to bred like rabbits or something? Toxic remembered the conversations of a few humans, not that he had understood them exactly, he had picked up a bit though. The other horses that lived around the area where gossiping about the feral creatures to the new comers, and Toxic had over heard that too.
Shaking his midnight head in a fiery motion, he slowed his dance when the ground under him started becoming more solid. Though he still picked up his feet high off of the ground, he was slowly becoming more relaxed, less tense. His black mane bobbed over his neck as he bounced to into a fluid trot again, finding out that with every step he took the ground became more solid.
done! And open!!
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Post by Tiggs on May 23, 2009 8:17:24 GMT
The bog made movement on three legs horrendously difficult. The white stallion was caked in mud, with more than his fair share smothered on his head. He’d fallen once or twice, struggling to get up with such a lame leg but moving through to bog would make his trail hard to follow, and at least the mud covering him would dull his scent, even if his once white coat was now mostly brown.
That evening, the mucky stallion was in a fowl mood. He’d had almost half a moon’s cycle to contemplate the loss of his mares to the King, and his foreleg only showed mediocre improvement. He’d kept off it as much as he could, so he had not moved faster than an agonising shuffle for a long while. To make matter’s worse, the darkening sky was alight with a cacophony of sound, including the loud whinny of a stallion.
Nevada had tried his best to avoid other stallions, and he had done well until now, but he supposed it was inevitable that another brumby would stumble into him eventually. Glad for the mud that hid his fresh scars, the once-wealthy stallion dropped his head to graze, nonchalant as you please. He was obviously alone, with no mares to steal – he thought on that bitterly and briefly – so another stallion should not find him a threat.
Mud-encrusted tail lashing against his rump, Nevada kept an eye on the scene and finally spotted a dark stallion prancing around on the bog’s edge, heading in his direction. Nevada was glad he had heard the other’s call first; else he might have attempted to run at the sight of a black horse. It could have easily been Tingara, but even this horse was too impossibly lithe to be the King. He was a strange-looking creature, with a dished face and slim legs. He carried himself far too proudly, and as his scent reached the fatigued stallion, Nevada caught the stench of man about him.
Snorting quickly to rid his nose of the smell, he could not stop himself from calling a warning to the stallion. He inwardly kicked himself. He was supposed to be keeping a low profile, not provoking yet more fights that he would find impossible to win. As he clearly couldn’t outrun the other stallion, or any men following, Nevada thought he may as well resign himself to his fate. “Hey you,” He called, holding his conversely convex head up, “You reek of man, do they follow you?” He asked, trying his best not to be rude and condescending. It was a difficult task, he was used to being a dominant stallion, and to be reduced to a limping weakling was something his pride had not gotten to grips with well.
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Post by KAREE on May 23, 2009 8:46:12 GMT
Toxic continued his way through the thick grass, his nostrils flaring every so often when the breeze invited him some reading of about where he was. He stiffened then, coming to a smooth halt. His head whipped around, trying to find the sorce the faint, fresh scent that had been pushed to him. It didn't take him long to find a mud covered stallion limping his way along in the mud.
Toxic frowned at the image, this horse certainly fit the descriptions those other domesticated horses had given him. Filthy and just well...filthy. Toxic came to a halt near the stallion, not bothering to be polite as he had never learnt the meaning of the word, "He-" The other stallion cut him off, but he didn't seem to notice. Toxic watched the stallion tense up, wondering what the problem was...“Hey you,” the mud covered stallion called to the black arab, Toxic's ears flickered in his direction, “You reek of man, do they follow you?” Man? Toxic quickerly looked around, then checked to see if he could pick up the smell the other caught, he smelt nothing different, except the dirty homeless horse infront of him. "Man does not follow." He said tersely, "I have seen none in a long time," He flicked his own black tail at his side, "I threw the lady man off..." He thought for a moment, "A few weeks back i think." He frowned, it seemed like it had taken forever, but it may not have been exactly that long. "I have only just managed to rid myself of their contraptions that restrain us." He mentioned, that was probably why he still smelt of man. "Anyway, what is it with you?" He asked, "You're limp. Did you take a fall or something?" This question was also directed to his mud covered hide. |
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Post by Tiggs on May 23, 2009 10:45:53 GMT
Nevada huffed, doing his best to look proud despite his dishevelled appearance. “Men do not let their slaves roam free for long – they will come for you sooner or later.” Nevada looked the black stallion up and down. He was certainly exotic to say the least; the men would likely not let him wander the High Country for long. Trackers and their dogs would be out seeking him for a bounty.
The notion that he should fall and lame himself so badly was insulting, and Nevada snapped back defensively. “A brumby does not ‘take a fall’.” Seeing as the stallion obviously knew he was lame, there was no point in trying to hide his weakness. “If you must know, I was lamed in a fight with the King.” He flicked his tail again, snorting a warning, He contemplated neglecting to mention who won, though it was fairly obvious from his lack of company.“Though the fact I am not dead might suggests the fight was hardly all in his favour.” He added, satisfying his ego. He was not some upstart stallion who took on the King out of haste. It had been a fair battle, but the King was the King for a reason. Or at least that’s what Nevada told himself to sooth his battered pride.
“Look, I’m a little busy right now,” busy brooding, “Did you want something?” The way the strange stallion was looking at him was disconcerting, and Nevada felt the sudden urge to jump in a river and have a good roll to get all the mud off. He sighed, looking somewhat despondent now. After all, he had lost all his mares and was effectively friendless and lonely. A little company wouldn’t go amiss, even if it was a strange man’s horse.
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Post by KAREE on May 24, 2009 0:34:34 GMT
Toxic snorted at the stallions haste to call him a slave, Toxic was no slave, how do you think he broke free? "I am no slave to man." He snapped, his fine black ears rolling backwards. He thought about the lady man he'd left behind, he'd certainly heard a crack...had it been one of her bones? "I'm sure man won't want to come after me when they find out what I did to one of their kind." He suddenly winced - damnit! Of course they would come after him! They certainly would have a bounty on the black arabians head and it was called death. Toxic quickerly hid his concern about his life, banishing the thoughts of what he'd heard about horses that where uncontrollable. But then again he was too valuable.
He watched the mud covered horse cautiously. His curiousity perked up when the stallion mentioned something about a king, "A king?" He asked, trying to hide his sudden excitement at the idea of a king out here, where everything was so...ew. "Why would there be a king out here?" He was puzzled.
Then the stallion rattled off a few questions of his own, seeming to be in a hurry to be on his way. “Look, I’m a little busy right now,” Busy with what Toxic wondered to himself, “Did you want something?” He frowned, thinking about all the things he really wanted...a warm bucket of mash...a nice rug...sigh. He looked the horse in the face, "Can you tell me where I am? This ground keeps sinking under my feet...its making me feel very uneasy." He glanced down at his hooves, though now the mud wasn't quite swallowing him up anymore. "I'm Toxic Chaos or Toxic, by the way." |
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Post by Tiggs on May 24, 2009 9:01:07 GMT
Nevada tilted his head, looking a little ludicrous. This horse did not even know of the King? “You really don’t know anything do you?” He said rhetorically, shaking his head in disbelief. The black was out of his depth out here. He’d probably be safer back with the men. Then again, Nevada knew how scared he had been for Birubi when she had first gotten taken by the men. He had not seen her since the last brumby drive – and so it was likely she had been taken again. He would not wish the men on any horse.
He was reminded of a time in his youth when he had befriended a young colt. He had enjoyed the company then, and he supposed in his current condition, he may as well be a bachelor stallion, not yet ready to hold mares. Perhaps looking after Toxic or Chaos here would give him some company, and satisfy his need to look after something.
“All right, come over here.” He gestured with his head. “My name is Nevada, and this is the High Country.” This was almost ridiculous. How could no horse know the High Country and its ways? “The King is our ruler – he holds the most numerous and most beautiful mares.” Thanks to his sacrifice. “This land here we call the Big Boggy. Because it’s big. And boggy.” He added with a sardonic edge. “Keep out of the mud – it’s dangerous if you don’t know where to step.”
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Post by KAREE on May 27, 2009 6:30:05 GMT
Toxic's ears flickered back and his long silky tail whipped at his flanks when the stallion said he didn't know anything. SURE! Thats what he thought. Toxic did actually know some stuff about the High Country, but come on! He was still new here! Of course he wouldn't know the 'ways' of these civilized ferals. And Toxic was smart enough to shut his mouth while this stallion told him things he didn't know - there was no need to get into a fight right now.
His ears perked forward as the stallion started on the stuff Toxic wanted to know, “My name is Nevada, and this is the High Country.” Toxic nodded, finally knowing the mud covered horses name seemed to make everything 'official' this horse would help him along his way. “The King is our ruler – he holds the most numerous and most beautiful mares.” Toxic nodded, suddenly understanding the need for a king. "Oh." Was all he said, before letting the other continue, “This land here we call the Big Boggy. Because it’s big. And boggy.” Toxic grinned, the name quite suited the boggy ground. “Keep out of the mud – it’s dangerous if you don’t know where to step.” "Ok, I sort of noticed that part." He huffed a short laugh, then stood there thinking for a bit. He looked up at Nevada, he quickerly sussed out what he saw, a lone stallion, no mares, with a limp. Nevada had told him that he'd been in a fight with the King. Obviously he'd lost. "Where are you off to now?"
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Post by Tiggs on May 27, 2009 16:40:24 GMT
“If you’re going to be like that, you can go drown in the mud for all I care.” Nevada snapped bitterly as the black stallion sniggered at his instructions. “If you want my help, keep your opinions to yourself from now on.” Said the sulky stallion. He was tempted to snap and grumble, but he didn’t want to drive away the only company he’d had in weeks. Besides, the thought to himself, if he gets us noticed, he can distract while I hobble away. Huffing, Nevada knew he should be nicer, but he was still bitter about losing his mares and liable to take it out on whomever provoked him.
Swishing his tail, Nevada lifted his head and looked directly at the other stallion. “I will be heading for better grazing. If you’re careful, and you don’t draw attention to us, you may come with me.” He said benevolently. He was lost after all, and if he was like any other tame horse, probably useless in the wild. “Keep close behind, don’t hurry me, and don’t ask too many questions.” He warned before turning slowly and starting on a laborious limp along the more solid parts of the bog.
OOC: He’s gunna go up to the Bogong at some point if Toxic would like to follow him all the way there? If he’d rather avoid Nev’s grumpy cloud, that’s alright XD |
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Post by KAREE on May 28, 2009 7:49:49 GMT
Ears flattened against his head, Toxic glared at Nevada, how dare he tell him off? He blew heavily out of his nostrils, his lips fluttered as he fought the urge to blow up in the stallions face as he had just done to him. Glaring, Toxic threw his head up in the air in irritation, "I will only keep my mouth shut when I must, but you should not yell at me when I was only trying to keep things nice and steady." He snapped, his held his head at respectable level, if this stallion wasn't going to treat him like a decent horse, than Toxic will be the same - treat him like he was, feral.
“I will be heading for better grazing. If you’re careful, and you don’t draw attention to us, you may come with me.” The stallion continued, obviously cooling down a little to be civilized with Toxic, “Keep close behind, don’t hurry me, and don’t ask too many questions.” "Fine." It wasn't a rude comment, it was just an agreement to the terms Nevada had just laid out to him. And anyway, Toxic needed to find some place to stay while he sorted himself out. And this stallion seemed to know a far bit about the High Country, so why not follow him for a bit? He nodded lightly, half-expecting the stallion to blow up about his earlier comment.
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