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Post by ranger on Feb 8, 2009 3:56:03 GMT
Half the Courtroom Jester,
Half a Nickeled purse,
Could there be a finer gent,
Well, there couldn't be any worse.
Hey there, Mr. Suntop,
Mr. Raincloud just dropped in,
and turned the Courtroom Jester,
and places he has been,
Into...
Into a jug of wine, a splattered rainbow hue.
Now, the jokes, the laughs,
are weighted down,
and watered down like you.
A patchwork brumby of black and white balanced precariously on the tip of an outcrop of rock. His neat hooves stood firm, still and solid. Standing high and proud, the wind brushing through his long mane, sweeping it back from a mischevious face. With a painted face of creamy white, his palest pink lips curved upward in the grin of one triumphant- a trickster, a joker, the jester, the clown- the one who can turn that frown upside-down. Arrakis is his name, The Dancer it means. And he has lived up to the title, with his body of fluid motion- slender, the knotted muscles lean and hard. His patchwork coat is a trickery of light and dark, shadow and sun, he flits past with a cheeky tug of your ear. He loves the mares, the mares far and wide- black, bay, cream, gold, he loves them all for their beauty and pride, the trouble he can cause just by stealing them for a moment or two, enticing them forward with his dashing good looks and cavalcade of daring cheek. His wit and humor are unmatched- always with a joke at hand, to throw at you and cut you down from your high and mighty podium. The wind tugs his mane and his tail, slipping silkily through the pale hairs, light as a thief. His eyes twinkle with mischief, as he stands high upon the outcrop of rock- staring down at the countryside that allows him so much fun. The men were about, and no doubt creating their contraptions to capture and tame a wild brumby, perhaps this year he would be caught..but in his arrogance he guessed not, the men knew him well, knew to keep away from that devil of a horse who played tricks, messed with their minds. This proud horse, standing high upon his throne of jesterdom- not to be tamed nor broken, by horse or man. |
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Post by latymier on Feb 11, 2009 15:10:54 GMT
A muscular, grullo stallion, only a year younger, snorted a greeting to the black and white. They were both alone, without herds. Maybe they could start one together and split apart when the herd grew. All Latymier knew was that he was tired of being alone. He shook his mane and trotted slowly toward the stranger.
Another stallion wasbetter than being alone, although he could see competition between them in the future. Perhaps not, perhaps they would become close and learn to build a herd with two stallions.
"Greetings stranger." he nickered.
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Post by { Opal } on Feb 12, 2009 3:51:45 GMT
Were are the people that accuse me?
The ones who beat me down and bruise me
The hide just out of sight
Can't face me in the light
They'll return, but I'll be stronger
God I want to dream again
Take me where I've never been
I want to go there
This time I'm not scared
Now I'm unbreakable
It's unmistakable
No one can touch me
Nothing can stop me
A flash of burnt red, the gleam of rich black. and the thunder of hooves announced Kurra's arrival. He was the greatest of them all; the strongest, the fiercest, the only stallion that had a whirlwind at his hooves. Furious storm, that's what his name meant, or you could just call him cruel wind. With a ragged snort and a toss of his mighty head, Kurra came to a mad stop. He was only three years old, true, but for him it was the peek of his life. Well no, that wasn't completely true; Kurra's reign would never end. Sounds like he considers himself King? You made a fair guess. Kurra is a fool at heart, but he considers himself a witty brute. So with a huff Kurra glared at the piebald, and with a bold neigh Kurra revealed a hunger for battle. As his cry rumbled through the stone, he flicked his gaze to the grulla. Kurra stamped his hoof impatiently at the stranger's words; silly brumbies, always wasting breath. "When shall we fight, more like," Kurra grumbled, his ears twitching irritably. The stallion shuffled his muscular body impatiently, though he knew there was no reason to be so hasty. But it was Kurra's nature; he wanted to be off and away, creating havoc across the lands with every fall of his hoof. Or, so he liked to think. Forget the fear, it's just a crutch
That tries to hold you back and turn your dreams to dust
All you need to do is just try (try, try, try)
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Post by ranger on Feb 12, 2009 7:49:45 GMT
Ears were twitched backward as a warm voice reached them, and his head followed, turning to see a muscular stallion- greeting him in friendship. His lips parted in a grin and his mischevious eyes twinkled, laid back and pleasant. He moved to step down to the other stallions level, for in friendship, everyone is the same. King or peasant. But before he could step of his podium of granite, heavy hoofbeats resounded on the hard surface of rock, and he turned with raised brows to survey yet another stallion.
A loud, fiery neigh was released from the newcomers lips- he wanted a fight. Arrakis' grin grew, and he raised his head. From the looks of it, this stallion was young and quick tempered, though Arrakis could see no need for a fight- none of the stallions had mares at their side. But all the same, he did feel the need to fluff up this stallions feathers a tad. He would no doubt get a beating if he wasnt careful, but he was used to it. But in his five years of experience, he had become rather good at fighting, a result of letting his wit and teasing get him into trouble with older stallions. He was a nimble creature, neat hooves dancing excitedly on his high rock. He threw an apologetic glance to the first stallion to arrive whom had offered friendship- Arrakis was open to friendship, even more so these days because he often wandered alone.
He turned his white face to the fiery young stallion, a grin blessing his pale lips I'm the king of the castle here, and you, my friend, are the dirty rascal he let out a snicker, eyes dancing with merriment.
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Post by latymier on Feb 12, 2009 16:23:21 GMT
Latymier was no different from any stallion with the instinct to fight other stallions but he was not willing to risk injury for nothing. Knowing he would rather start a herd wiht the less challenging one, he decided to take sides. What were they fighting for? The land, so better he and the black and white than this other stallion who he could obviously not get along with.
With a snort, he stepped up, chest out and tail swishing in agitation. Unexpectedly, he reared, aiming his hooves the the newest stallion in threat, "We have nothing to fight over, go pick a pointless fight elsewhere!" his hooves slammed into the ground, "Come back and fight when you think you can steal a mare, although I assure you, you will fail."
Giving his new companion a glace, hoping to portray camaraderie, Latymier faced the other stallion, ears laid back.
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Post by { Opal } on Feb 18, 2009 21:18:14 GMT
I'm the king of the castle here, and you, my friend, are the dirty rascal. Kurra's gaze raked over to the piebald, his expression darkening as the mocking words filled his head. The stallion snorted, ready to cast back a smart remark, but at the last moment his attention was drawn to the grulla. Kurra glared at him, infuriated at his words, but more so by the daring in the attempt to land a strike. He shifted and the blow missed, striking only empty air. Meanwhile a storm was building inside Kurra, and poison thrashed within him. Suddenly the bay lunged, flashed both hooves at Latymier's face. With wild eyes he lurched forward, ready to crash into the stallion's body; they were at such a close range it would be hard to miss.
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Post by latymier on Feb 19, 2009 0:59:01 GMT
Latymier only dodged well enough for the other stallion to miss his face, but he felt a sharp pain in his chest and shoulders as the chestnut came down on him. The pain served to infuriate him and the large grullo charged, teeth bared and ears pinned.
His hooves pawed near the other stallion and his teeth came down on what Latymier hoped would be horse flesh. He hoped the his opponent could not dodge in time to miss being bitten.
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Post by ranger on Feb 19, 2009 9:44:08 GMT
Arrakis let out a short trumpet of glee as the fiery stranger glared at him, features darkening angrily. He tossed his mane and pranced about on his small plateu mockingly, just out of reach. He knew he was in prime posistion if it came to a fight, so he stayed where he was. But the strangers attention was distracted by Arrakis' comrade, and the two began exchanging blows. Arrakis watched eagerly, throwing in encouraging words to the friendly stallion and insults to the stranger.
He flicked his ears back and forth excitedly, legs dancing a merry jig on the spot. He decided to leave his podium, leaping nimbly down. His neat hooves stuck the occasional rump or shoulder of the newcomer, enraging him. Arrakis was like a fly that wouldnt leave you alone, but one you can never swat. dancing about swiftly and cheekily. He nipped a rump and dodged an angry hoof, gleefully pushing the fight further. If his help was needed by his comrade he would jump in and drive the stranger off- better two than one. But for now he was content to watch and tease the fiery bronc, letting his fellow friend give him a beating.
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Post by { Opal } on Feb 20, 2009 18:05:45 GMT
Kurra flinched as he felt teeth meet at his withers, and tear through his red hide. With an enraged bellow Kurra flashed his hooves at Latymier's chest, during so he felt one of the grulla's hooves graze his foreleg. Kurra ignored the searing pain; he was now in a wild frenzy. With a mad snort he reared upward, preparing to meet Latymier through a rough crash. Kurra had almost forgotten the heat of battle; oh, how it stirred the blood in his veins. In all the madness, however, the bay had forgotten to think about the fight's outcome. Instead of doing the proper thing, which was actually thinking, Kurra simply flung himself into the fray, knowing nothing but the fierce storm that raged within him. So with a fiery energy he flung himself at Latymier, inconsiderate of the possible mishaps that could befall him.
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Post by latymier on Feb 23, 2009 16:37:45 GMT
Latymier felt several more stings of hooves on his body as the fight ensued, but none enough for him to give up. The red stallion was charging blindly now, and Latymier knew well enough not to rear lest the mad stallion charge his underside.
He heaved himself out of the pathway of the charge and dropped his head, hoping to use the red stallion's own momentum to shove him over. With a great kick, Latymier aimed the bl;ow at his opponent's hind quarters.
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