xdjurax
Newcomer
NOM ALL THE HORSES
Posts: 9 
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Post by xdjurax on Dec 3, 2014 15:54:05 GMT -5
Fionn vs. Prophet
Rosey pink was lapping at the inky clouds of night, threatening to soon wipe away the darkness that was still enveloping the lands wholly right now. In the little, shimmering light that the rainclouds allowed the moon to spread, black figures flitted across the grass. Their battle cries mingled with the sound of rain hitting the ground. The stomping of their hooves played the rhytmic drum of war, scaring away all critters that were near earlier.
Amidst it all stood one dark-colored figure, his coat soaked but his eyes glowing with an intensity like never before. His breathing was deep and steady as he searched for a target. Every fibre of his being seemed to tingle with the energy that almost crackled through the air, caused by all of the emotions around him running high, not to mention his own. While he watched the scene before him a rough laugh left his throat, and he raised his legs, pawing at the sky. White teeth could still be seen in a slight smirk when he got back on all fours again. It had been too long; Too long since he had fought in a real war. Since he had heard and joined in with the cries of his herd as they charged into battle, prepared to win, or die while trying to. Just the thought of those Unicorn-loving bumbling fools running about on their ground, dirtying their air was making his insides boil and his teeth clench. They would pay for their arrogance, their illusions that they could win over the Bachelors -on their own territory at that- oh yes, they would pay.
If he had been fired up the days before they met Olde on the battlefield, or when he was sparring, that was nothing next to this feeling. That had been training, practice. It was nothing like the real thing. He could feel his blood running hot in his veins and adrenaline firing through his muscles when his eyes locked on to a mostly white stallion some ways across from him on Olde's side, a pale streak in the dark of the night. Without further thinking he sprang away from the place he stood, rain slapping in his face and kicking away the dirt and slippery grass under him as he picked up speed to cross the distance towards his newfound 'target'. He narrowly avoided a random horse springing into his path from its own battle.
When he locked his vision on the stallion again another grin lit up his face. His expression bordered on that of a horse gone mad. And maybe he was mad, but if he was, he had been since long ago. All he knew now was that he couldn't live without the thrill of fighting anymore-he had been addicted to it for far too long.
When he was near enough he latched out immediately towards the stallion, using his momentum. He aimed for his shoulder blades with teeth bared and ears flattened. The horse he had attacked was much taller, but he did not waver. Being a horse of roughly 14-and-a-half hands for all of his life he had learned not only the disadvantages but also the advantages of being a relatively small-sized horse. The times of cowering away for bigger horses were so long in the past they were but a vague memory for Fionn, who was now gazing at the other with his owlish, orange eyes, seizing the enemy he had picked out up. "You smell like Exile.." he spoke with rough, low voice, keeping a close eye on the other as to be able to react quickly. "Why would an Exile aid those that helped banishing him from his homeland long ago?"
Word count: 620 |
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xfirefly
Exile Herd 
I will walk through Hell, in these words I fell- straight into your arms, with this crown of thorns.
Posts: 35
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Post by xfirefly on Dec 3, 2014 17:58:04 GMT -5
The air around his glowing white pelt whirred, crackling with every horse's adrenaline as the tall stallion emerged over the horizon. The grass underfoot was wet and with each long stride, subtly threatened to send him sliding into anyone in his path. Other thundering hooves crashed into the sensitive ears of Prophet, barely audible above the drumming away of the rushing blood in his veins. The rhythmic beat of hoof falls seemed to grow louder as the Teke cross turned his thin head- suddenly meeting a crazed-looking dappled bay's gaze. It was seconds before the opponent lunged forth, teeth at the ready.
Prophet's eyes widened momentarily, time seeming to slow down as he altered his path of action to narrowly avoid taking a hit to the withers. He almost wondered how the shorter stallion could reach his great height, but he had seen the guards under him, smaller than him, accomplish greater feats. It wasn't until the words that left Fionn's lips and met Prophets ears that something in the Exile cracked, threatening already to break apart and unleash a Hellish wrath. "Times have changed. There was no good choice." Prophet's last syllable came out as a hissed growl. He had, in fact, had doubts and second thoughts of his choice to side with Olde, having to keep telling himself they were the lesser of the two evils. In his mind, Olde needed protection, and the Bachelors needed no help with pillaging the other two herds for fun.
"I'm not here to be interrogated, Bachelor. Neither of us are here for the long-winded speeches of who is right or wrong. The victor will decide what the future will be, past be damned." Prophet's gravely vocals carried strongly over the cries around them, his posture becoming snake-like, ready to strike at any opportunity. The Exile was a well-trained High Guard, his confident gaze drilling into Fionn's bright honey-toned orbs as if assessing him. No doubt, this opponent was not to be underestimated, as his scars told Prophet much of what he needed to know. The Bachelor thrived on battle.
The world slowed around him, blurring into the background. His full attention was now on the smaller stallion before him. In an effort to collect his bearings, he drew a deep breath, hot steam billowing from his nostrils in the wet air that surrounded them. Without breaking eye contact, Prophet bolted forward with a half-leap, aiming to come down with his weight on the Bachelor stallion's ankles. His neck muscles coiled, keeping his chin tucked close to his sculpted chest. Vasska's words whizzed through the back of his mind for a brief moment. Could he avoid his blood being spilled..?
//448 Words//
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xdjurax
Newcomer
NOM ALL THE HORSES
Posts: 9
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Post by xdjurax on Dec 4, 2014 12:51:40 GMT -5
Fionn looked at the stallion with eyes half narrowed when he replied. "Doubt means failure in war, Exile." he stated with monotone voice, flicking his tail. He could not fathom why this horse would fight with Olde. Their minds were muddled by their traditions and beliefs to the point that they would not even lift a finger against the banning of their brothers or at least welcome them back after such a long time. The Bachelors could be a barbaric bunch, he was aware of that, but at least they were as one. They would never stab their brothers in the back and they all fought together for their herd, following their own sense of justice on the way. The dark bay stallion was proud to be one of them, and he would defend their honour with all of his strength.
The stallion in front of him had evidently already picked a side now, though. "Fair enough," he said, a low rumbling sound emanating from his belly as he met Prophets gaze head on, the challenge in his own eyes evident. "Let's find out who will be deciding the future today, then." His eyes flashed as he looked at the tall stallion. This would be a good fight, Fionn knew by the determination he could see in the others expression and the power that was behind Prophets first attack. He sprang to the side as fast as possible but couldn't avoid being scamped by the white shoulders moving next to him, which threw him off balance for a second. He could feel the wind whirring next to his ears as he dodged, together with the adrenaline that was sharpening his senses. Gathering his balance again he then turned on his hind legs, kicking out with his front hooves to the other then putting his legs back on the ground quickly. He tensed his muscles and used his bodyweight to try and slam his own shoulder into the white one of the other, grinding his teeth as he braced himself against the slippery grass and mud under them.
Word count: 348
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xfirefly
Exile Herd
I will walk through Hell, in these words I fell- straight into your arms, with this crown of thorns.
Posts: 35
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Post by xfirefly on Dec 5, 2014 22:28:33 GMT -5
The impact that racked the Exile's body forced his front end to slide a centimeter or two, tearing the rain-soaked grass up at the roots beneath his hard hooves. It was a hit he would probably feel later, but the adrenaline pulsing hard through his veins dulled the ache, as if absorbing the blunt of the contact. Prophet flung his head towards the dappled bay, ears plastered flat against his skull. Yet, a crooked, wicked smile played on his lips.
Prophet knew he couldn't idle long, or plan his next move, which sent his mind into overdrive. It had been a while since he had been in a serious battle, despite his training. "You fight well," Prophet breathed, truly admiring how well the Bachelors seemed to be trained, if Fionn was any example. Without further warning, , he kicked out with his hind legs, twisting his body to aim at Fionn's neck. It would be a hard blow to avoid entirely, depending on how fast his opponent was. Thankfully, this time the grass did not give under his weight or the force with which he threw out his hooves. Prophet held his breath momentarily, awaiting the force and satisfaction of impact or the chance to strike again.
//206 words//
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xdjurax
Newcomer
NOM ALL THE HORSES
Posts: 9
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Post by xdjurax on Dec 8, 2014 13:58:56 GMT -5
Too late to dodge the flying hooves coming at him, especially with the ground that kept slipping away from under him he got hit right above the shoulder on his neck. The impact made him jump back a foot to be able to collect himself again, but he kept standing as he shook his head as if to shake away the damage he had taken. When he looked up again his orange eyes blazed from under his wet forelock. His own grin mirrored the wicked one of the other stallion. “Same to you, Exile,” he rumbled, his breathing heavier than at first but his resolve to be victorious hardening with the second. “You would’ve done well with the Bachelors.” He was merely stating his thoughts, not trying to convince the other to join them because he knew Prophet had picked his side already, and Fionn respected that. He was pleased to find an opponent like the white-black stallion on the field. The Exile he was facing was for certain not to be taken lightly. He enjoyed this fight, in which just a little mistake could lead to a severe injury or even defeat.
He then quickly bowed his head down, storming at the other with his head held low. He first aimed to head-butt his opponent in his chest, hoping that Prophet would react on instinct and lower his own head, so that Fionn would be able to more easily reach the throat. He bared his teeth and lunged, his front hooves coming off of the ground to try and reach the others neck to bite down, his neck muscles tensing and stretching themselves out.
Word count: 275
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xfirefly
Exile Herd
I will walk through Hell, in these words I fell- straight into your arms, with this crown of thorns.
Posts: 35
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Post by xfirefly on Dec 9, 2014 18:29:29 GMT -5
The satisfying recoil of impact against Prophet's hind hooves sent a jolt of thrill up his spine as his legs returned underneath his mass. His body was tingling now, as the rain from the fat clouds soaked in with the sweat that began to bead up on his fine pearl-white coat. It had been far too long since his last fight against a respectable opponent.
"I'll take that as a compliment." Though the thought of being a Bachelor almost made Prophet shudder, the herd was strong and fearsome. To have one of them say such a thing would have been an honor, had their values been different. His Stormcry and their son flashed through his mind. He hoped they were safe...
The darker stallion had regained himself, and dropped his head. Owlish eyes burned into Prophet's own blue-brown as Fionn sprung forward to make a blow of his own. With little time to react, Prophet dropped his shoulder down in a quick effort to brace for impact. He couldn't have gotten out of the way fast enough, especially trying to process the words that had met his ears, and opted to lower his center of gravity so as not to be knocked over by the force of the Bachelor. For his size, he was extremely strong. What Prophet hadn't seen coming, was the teeth that had caught ahold of the point of his shoulder.
He knew if he tore away, his skin would surely open. Prophet began to push Fionn back, leaning into his dark body and taking steps, placing his hooves in the way of the others. At any cost, he wanted to avoid biting, but it seemed impossible at this point. The pulsing ache in his shoulder was proof of that.
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