the Rift


[PRIVATE] blood stains

Ricochet the Incendiary Posts: 133
Deceased
Stallion :: Equine :: 15.2 hands :: 5 years Buff: BULK
Blu
#1


It wasn't until several days after meeting Dragomir and later, Histe, that Ricochet had pushed east from the Secret Grove, seeking relief from the countless pairs that made their way and made their love beneath the willow trees. When he had had sex with Arya, it had been nothing like the lovers' whimsical giggles and breathy declarations of eternal love. All it had been was the thrust of his hips and the hoof that caught him in the gut the first time he came into her.

Arya. Not often did the Incendiary waste thought on her- she had carried and born him a filly, nothing more and nothing less. Yet he couldn't help but compare her to Histe, for they were both of similar coloration and build, brindled bays. Arya had been kind, but weak for it, while Histe was mad as a march hare with fire in her eyes. Both of them survived in their respective countries, despite what would seem to be odds against them... and both held his respect for different reasons.

Guns was scavenging again, teeth stained crimson with blood. The carcass, whatever it was, remained downwind of the Incendiary, who had no desire to inspect the corpse. He had done so many times before- once he had caught Guns worrying at an equine body, but more often than not it was a slender deer or young fawn. Whatever the body was, Guns needed meat; he could not survive off green grass, nor browse through the lower branches of trees. Never did Ricochet interfere with his feeding.

After all, life was life, and dead was dead.

Ricochet lowered his head to the chattering stream. For a moment, a wavering image of his grotesquely burned face reflects back at him, and then the image is shattered as he plunges his muzzle into the cold water. He guzzles as a man dying from thirst would, the crystal liquid refreshingly frigid.

Above the two the sun inched higher, making it's slow ascent. It was early, hardly an hour past sunrise, with the world still filmy with pale gold, the thistle still weighed down by glistening dew drops.



for Aud's @[Desperado]!


HP: 49.5
We want you for the Equine Empire.

Desperado Posts: 30
Deceased atk: 5 | def: 10 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.3 :: 5 :: Tallsun HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE
Foxy
#2



Another day, another dawn. Des had bedded down in the long grasses of the meadow sometime around dusk. He had been surprised to see so few here - he knew there were herdlands, hell, he'd been to one of them - but surely there were outcasts? It couldn't be that they all 'belonged' somewhere, could it? With a snort, he had thought no, but that still didn't answer the question of just where everyone was.

The night passed quickly and without incident, and Des found that he was relatively comfortable. The temperature didn't drop much, so it was fairly warm the whole evening through, but he'd had worse. He'd take a little heat over the sleepless nights of the battlefield any day. Mayhap those days were over - everything seemed...a-okay in Helovia.

Well. That wasn't completely true. The Edge had built that great big wall, now hadn't they? And he heard tell that someplace called the 'Dragon's Throat' also had a wall of their own. Now why was there so much construction goin' on, when everything seemed so peaceful? As dawn broke across the sky, Des decided that today he would try and find out.

With a grunt, the soldier stood up, shaking dust and foliage from his dappled coat. He was still rather dusty, but he didn't care much. A shiver went down his spine, causing the thick black hair that ranged from his withers to his tail, to twitch. Casually, he made his way towards a stream, where he could see another stallion drinking. As he neared, Des informally dipped his head in greeting, mumbling, "Mornin' " as he too plunged his muzzle into the waters.

After he had his fill, Des raised his head, droplets of water still glistening on his tan lips. Unconsciously, he dipped his left shoulder slightly as he often did, to try and encourage his mane to hide the brand that covered a large portion of his shoulder. He didn't even think about it anymore, and likely could stop doing it all together. We was fair enough away, that folks 'round here probably wouldn't know what the brand meant. Still, you know what they say about old habits..


@[Ricochet]
Image Credits
 HP: 63
Desperado,
why don't you come to your senses,
you've been out riding fences,
for so long now.

Ricochet the Incendiary Posts: 133
Deceased
Stallion :: Equine :: 15.2 hands :: 5 years Buff: BULK
Blu
#3


The rustle of hooves beating down on grass warned Ricochet of another animal present- if he had been listening for possible signs of danger instead of being caught up in listening to the sounds of the river. As a matter of speaking, the stranger caught him with his gun unloaded.

Mornin'.

The Incendiary jerked his head back from the water, sending a fine arc of glistening droplets spinning from his soaked muzzle, teal eyes sharp as daggers, burned face contorting into a snarl before relaxing in wary recognition.

It was only a horse, a stallion a couple of hands taller than himself, with seafoam green eyes. He was slim, the sort of slim reminiscent of a dagger- sharp points and dangerous beauty. More interesting than the stranger's burnished oak-colored body or handsome face was his mane, tumbling and black and curly, extending down the length of his spine. At first glance, Ricochet almost took him for some sort of male hooker. It was then he noticed the scars. On the unscarred half of his face, Ricochet's lips curled into a grimace.

Scars. Each a trophy of battles fought, some lost and some won, but you never came out of a battle without gaining a scar or three. Judging from those scars, this stallion had fought in too many battles to count before.

But then, Ricochet was not without his scars- and they too were countless. There had been the time he had trained with Crane, to arise victorious, the day he had fought and snarled and snapped with Soleil the unjust, when he had fought his own father and won... and he had lost battles too, to Smoke the Gossamer and her wicked blue dragon. More times, more recent, when he had skirmished and attacked and bit and kicked his own daughter, beaten all the mare out of her until she was more stallion, but never was Colt the son he had wanted.

And he never let her forget that.

"Morning," Ricochet greeted the bay, neck stiff. He almost tilted his head in greeting before cutting off the movement abruptly- he was the Incendiary, and he didn't bow his head to anyone, no matter their breed or their ranking. "What brings you around to these parts?" The buttermilk boy continues on, cordially enough, but his eyes are sharp. He very rarely found outcasts, at least of the equine race, now- most often he collected friends from the gateway to Helovia, scouted out his followers from herds and ragtag outcast bands.

Away from the stallion his gaze drifts, downstream to where Guns scavenges. When he flares his nostrils, the salted tang of blood and rich stench of decay lingers in the air, almost overpowered by the cloying sweetness of flowers that make his jaw ache to eat. If he were to call now, Guns would come loping back, leaving his carcass to rot and fester.

But he doesn't need Guns yet. They are just two strangers- scarred and bruised, but if they talk friendly and smile hopefully Ricochet can convince this stallion of killing and eradicating the unnatural, to remove the unicorns and pegasi just like a gardener removing all the sprouting weeds.

It's good that he's back now. In his absence, the unnatural and hideous monsters have flourished- the horned and the winged. Ricochet will make Helovia wholesome once again by removing the wrong. All the murdering will be so that his kind may flourish in Nieque's name and they will become strong once more, instead of being overpowered by followers of Sepagus and Cinnoru. Those of other races that remain can be hunted down for sport and tidily removed until none remain to taint the land of the sun.

But before his plots and plans, Ricochet will need to convince this stallion of his cause.

"I am Ricochet the Incendiary, and the dog down there is my pet- I call him Guns." The Incendiary tries a smile on for size, letting it sit stupidly on his face until it slips slickly off. Smiles just don't work for him, not today and not for a long time- maybe it would be best to stick with minimum facial movements and let his eyes show his conviction in the cause of the Equine Empire.

And fuck it, he had to come up with some better lines than 'what brings you around to these parts?'



HP: 49.5
We want you for the Equine Empire.

Desperado Posts: 30
Deceased atk: 5 | def: 10 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.3 :: 5 :: Tallsun HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE
Foxy
#4


Des's ears flickered as they caught the strangers question. It still surprised him - though perhaps it shouldn't - how chatty folks could be. Still, there was that old saying about vinegar and honey, and for the most part Des tried to stick to it....Unless of course, someone needed it stuck to them. In those cases, Des was more than happy to oblige. But there wasn't no need to go rile'n folks up, when it wasn't necessary.

"Same as you I expect - fresh water. Grass." He said without emotion, shrugging his shoulders - and once again taking care to ensure that enough hair fell over his left, to hide his brand. He bobbed his head in greeting, looking from Rico to the dog. "Pleasure, Ricochet. I ain't never met anyone before who had a pet." He mumbled, more of an observation than a comment, really. Reaching his head forward, the seal-bay stretched, allowing the dark hair that crept down his back to tousle as his skin shivered.

"Names' Desperado. Or Des -" then, pausing, remembering that Ricochet's had ended with the Incendiary, added: "- nothin' else. Just Des."

His oddly light green gaze surveyed the field for a minute, noticing that there weren't any others around. That was odd, wasn't it?

"I had gone up to the Edge - see if they needed a hand with that wall-thing they were buildin'. But...seems like they got it all finished. Do folks mostly keep to their herdlands? I ain't really seen too many wanderin' around - 'cept you and guns of-course."

Falling silent, Des wondered if perhaps this Incendiary had any work needed doin'. Des wasn't one for just loungin' around all day, no matter how sweet the clover was, or how badly his body just wanted to take a time-out. He was a soldier, always would be. If he couldn't find work here...well....shit, he'd just pass on then. No harm, no fowl.



Image Credits
 HP: 63
Desperado,
why don't you come to your senses,
you've been out riding fences,
for so long now.

Ricochet the Incendiary Posts: 133
Deceased
Stallion :: Equine :: 15.2 hands :: 5 years Buff: BULK
Blu
#5


Ricochet wondered if there were more horses like him, with that out-of-town haircut. Maybe there was a whole breed of them racing around with their long manes that traveled down their spines. It was difficult not to stare- he had seen a couple of unicorns wear such décor, but never an equine. But for all the stallion’s scars, there was not one on his skull to suggest the removal of an alicorn or any of the like. Must be equine then.

And the stallion had this lazy drawl, not too different from the Incendiary’s own father’s, except for a thick accent rich as honey.
He had found a strange one.

“No, not too many pets around these parts. Plenty of companions though, if you’re interested in that sort of bond. Where I came from, horses could bond to dragons. One of them gave me this burn on the side of my face.” A wry smile wreathed his charcoal lips, with his eyes half-shut in a lazy wince, but he wore this casualness far more comfortably than his plastic grins. “Made me lose my appetite for a dragon soul bound to my heart and head.” And it was true, sure enough, true as the sky was blue.

Maybe if he were a girl, he would compliment the grullo on his name- Desperado. A cowboy’s name, almost like Gunslinger… but Ricochet was not a girl. So he bobbed his head half-heartedly and listened to the birdsong filling up the silence between them. It was an easy quiet, relaxed and soft, and he liked it just fine. Clearly he had been reading too much into the other stallion.

The stallion- Desperado- spoke up again in his confident drawl, about the Edge. Ricochet’s brow furrowed thoughtfully; he hadn’t heard before of them building a Wall. After letting it sink in for a moment, the Incendiary spoke, careful of what he said. It seemed Desperado might be the helping sort, but that didn’t mean he could be trusted with a lifetime of secrets.

“Well, I hadn’t heard about a wall before. You’re into crafting then? But, I mean, yeah. Most stick to themselves around here- loyal folks, some can be kind of snobbish.” Ricochet said casually, a faint grin toying about his mouth. “Some might say it’s best to find a herd. Safety in numbers, all that regular bullshit. Don’t have a herd of my own- but I’m hoping to make one someday. Find a good solid group of equines- just equines. Had some troubles with unicorns and pegasi in the past-” He left out, of course, that he had been the one to start the trouble- “thought others might have to. Could be nice to get a band going, offer some protection to young ones and those too elderly to be out on their own. Of course, able-bodied minds and bodies are always in need too.”


HP: 49.5
We want you for the Equine Empire.

Desperado Posts: 30
Deceased atk: 5 | def: 10 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.3 :: 5 :: Tallsun HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE
Foxy
#6

For a moment Des's would be handsome if-he-ever-took-a-bath face twisted into a look of disbelief. Dragons? his green gaze seemed to wonder, before a fly on his flank stole his attention. His dark tail flicked, snapping against his rib-y barrel to calm the annoyance, as his face melted back into one of casual observance. "Can't say I ever seen a dragon before. Then again, can't say I've seen a lot of things." He concluded with a shrug.

The sound of stillness - of birds chirping in the early morning air, of the water rushing by past them - was unnerving. It brought back memories of a time when his band had been ambushed, and it had been during a calm just like this. Moments like that y'know, they take the beauty outta the world for some folks. Make you see things differently, do ya kin. Now, as the sleek muscle that once lined his whole body had melted away, leaving him entirely too thin looking, sounds like this made Des realize how much he wanted something to do; how much he needed it.

"I do what needs to be done. I'm pretty handy when it comes to fixin' and mendin'....Fighting too." He added with an un-obvious sense of pride, however hidden in his southern drawl and casual tone of voice. As Ricochet spoke of troubles with pegasi and unicorns in the past, Des bobbed his head, as if that was a tune he'd danced to in the past as well. Besides, as far as he knew, Helovia was one of the only spots so far where species mingled so damn much. He didn't have anything against it per se but...it struck him as unnatural, down in his core. He wasn't a racist - not like some of 'em surely were - maybe he was just a little old fashioned.

Des grunted as Ricochet finished, leaning back on his haunches and pondering what was just said. There was a strange intelligence behind that green gaze. One that said Ricochet was probably just as much of a soldier as he was - hell, might even recognize his brand, but more than that, that there was probably somethin' else that wasn't bein' mentioned. That didn't bother Des though, folks were allowed to have their secrets, and after all, they did just meet. Des would trust him a hell of a lot less, if he just went around shoutin' his true intentions for all the world to hear.

"Sounds like you got yourself a solid plan. Count me in, if you're recruitin'."


Image Credits
 HP: 63
Desperado,
why don't you come to your senses,
you've been out riding fences,
for so long now.

Ricochet the Incendiary Posts: 133
Deceased
Stallion :: Equine :: 15.2 hands :: 5 years Buff: BULK
Blu
#7


Desperado confesses to having never seen a dragon before with a shrug of his lean shoulders, but the dunskin hides a grin at the dusty stallion’s disbelief. It was hard to imagine a life without dragons- he had never bonded to one, but still, they seemed to play plenty of pivotal roles in his life. Even stranger was to think of how he had used to want one so desperately as a colt. Now he could not even imagine forcing himself into a relationship with one of the glittering little monsters.

He wished that he had never seen a dragon before.
In any case, he had Guns now, and that border collie was plenty.

Ricochet cocks a hind hoof comfortably beneath him, shifting his weight around until he was better settled. Maybe Gunslinger would’ve snapped at him for not being vigilant, but on a hot summer’s day, with the birds singing their songs and the grass rustling in the soft breeze, it was easy to get relaxed. The heat of the sun sank deep into his rich golden coat, and he sighed, content. Soon enough the dog days of summer would be over, and the chill of autumn would be on its way. He may as well enjoy the warmth while he could.

Lulled into security, he listens in silence to the stallion speak on, a faintest hint of humble pride in his voice. It was subtle, sure enough, but it was there, and he found himself warming to this grullo. Nothing beat a man who enjoyed his work. And, as Ricochet suspected, the southerner was a fighter to boot.

Golden lids slide shut over his teal eyes before he opens them with effort, breathing in the muggy air deeply, heart squeezing in hope. Count me in, he says, and Ricochet smiles, the joy clear writ on his face. “Good to have you, Des.”


HP: 49.5
We want you for the Equine Empire.


Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture