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Post by tallshiips on Dec 26, 2016 15:58:32 GMT -6
Y1682, Summer
Cormac & Muiris
The ice has melted, and Cormac has been sent out in search of raw materials to fix the winter's damage to the Bloody Flank settlement. On the way to the market, he stumbles upon a fellow teenager, Muiris, who is a scout the same age as him.
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Post by tallshiips on Dec 26, 2016 16:11:33 GMT -6
Cormac 
The greatest treasure is not of silver nor gold; the most illustrious conquest is the heart.
Cormac sighed with relief as he rounded the corner of Skeldr. He'd been journeying for a while, and had began to wonder whether her vast rocky western face would ever end, whether he'd ever see Skeldr town nestled just a few miles away and the forest only a little further south, where he'd find the market he was searching for.
When his father had offered the job to anyone, he'd leapt at the opportunity to get out of the stuffy settlement and away from his brothers, both younger and older. They had been doing his head in, and he'd wanted nothing more to be away from them. But now, as he journeyed on, his hooves had become sore already and his legs were beginning to ache - a whole winter of very little exercise had taken its toll on his fitness and now he was reaping the rewards of it. He was supposed to be back by nightfall, too, with all the materials necessary to repair all of the temporary structures ruined by the winter storms, though he doubted that he was moving fast enough even with his long stride. His pouch was filled with shards with which to pay the merchants, and a little extra from his father to 'treat himself', although he had no idea what the market would be selling. He was sure that he'd find something to buy, something that he'd be proud to bring back to his father and show him.
As he walked, the familiar rhythm of his hoofbeats ingrained in his mind, he was aware of the poor condition of his coat. In some places it was long and straggly, in others short and wiry. He had no doubt that it was down to malnutrition, the fault of the harsh winters that he'd endured as a child but that were becoming marginally better as Vidar grew. Vidar. The magical child who at birth had the ability to restore hope in a dying clan when he was but a wriggling, crying babe. At first, he had been cynical, but had soon seen that this babe was what was best for the clan, a 'born blessed' as they all said. How did they know that he was not blessed too? Blessed with something not so useful, no doubt. It would be just his luck that he'd be blessed with singing (though he knew he wasn't) or dancing (he danced like a dead man apparently) or playing an instrument (what use was that?) or something altogether useless while his brothers were blessed with weapon skills, necromancy magic and extreme strength. With an audible sigh, he dropped his head and took a nibble of grass, slowing his pace so he didn't kick himself in the chin as he walked.
461 words || post 1
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Post by Deleted on Dec 26, 2016 21:50:23 GMT -6
 Hooves echoed against the cobblestone streets of Skeldr town as the young stallion trotted his way through the thin crowd. He held his head high, though there was a hesitant glint in his eye. His ears laid flat, twitching only when those around him spoke. He had become a scout - well, started training to become a scout. He should be proud of himself, right?
Not necessarily.
His father had only chosen this rank for him because he was weak. His childhood illness had slowed his growth. While other drafts his age were already growing in size and muscle, Muiris was still skinny and small. His legs were thin, his hooves too large. He was quite an awkward looking fellow for just becoming an adult - at sixteen - but at least he was no longer sick. However, that didnt stop him from feeling dejected by his rank. The other scouts were small and fast; agile with enough stamina to go all day. Muiris, however... was none of that.
With a huff, the young stallion stopped beside a fountain, its cool water spitting against his muzzle as he leaned over it, watching his reflection dance in crisp water. He frowned as he scrunched up his muzzle, watching the two small pathetic excuses for horns wiggled above his nose. That was another thing; his parents had such large, glorious horns, yet his were.. well he didnt know what to call them. They were bland.
The youngster sighed and pushed himself off the ledge, landing with a thud back on the street. His attention turned to the land outside of town, his ears pricking forward as he noticed movement in the distance. Giving a quick glance around, the colt took on a bouncy trot toward the movement, the brisk summer sun washing over the back of his slowly roaning coat.
His roan was coming in rather spotty, his shoulders and rump completely covered, but the rest of his coat was awfully patchy. He knew one day his dark coat would be diminished, replaced by a roaned grey like his mother's. He only hoped this meant the daytime sun wouldnt be so hot along his back anymore.
Coming to a stop once the town was a ways behind him, Muiris sucked in a deep breath of fresh air as he studied the stranger from atop a small hill. Now that he was closer, he could see that the other stallion was either the same age as him, or around it, anyways. His dark coat held streaking white markings, almost similar to his father's. Muiris's head tipped to the side in curiosity. He had never seen this stallion before.
Pulling a warm smile onto his features, the draft slowly approached.
"Hello! Are you new here?" He asked quietly, hoping not to startle them. WC: 466 | Post #1 |
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Post by tallshiips on Dec 27, 2016 10:35:36 GMT -6
Cormac
The greatest treasure is not of silver nor gold; the most illustrious conquest is the heart.
Cormac's stomach grumbled as he walked, demanding that he once again lower his head to the ground and appease the beast with an offering of summer grass. The wide blades were sweet and long, graced by the evening summer sun and filled with its nutrients. His hunger was an ever-present reminder of his growing body and his malnutrition over winter, but he was not here to stuff himself with the tender new grass - a great contrast to the tough, flavourless stuff of his home - but to carry out a mission for his father, and his clan.
As he walked, he wished that he could take a moment, though it would surely become a few hours with very little effort, from his journey and visit Skeldr Town below. He would be able to bask in the mid-morning sun, sample wares from its numerous markets, shops and travelling traders, drink from the clear fountain that he had been told about by several members of the clan who had been lucky enough to visit. But no, he was resigned to his fate of simply journeying to a small market in the middle of nowhere and buying materials for his father.
Cormac stopped suddenly as he spotted the horse upon the crest of the hill. He could not tell how long the horse had been there, it could have been mere seconds, minutes or hours before he noticed the stranger. He could not tell an awful lot about them, so he began to take a step forward to watch them. But he was not fast enough, as the other horse had already begun to make their journey down towards him. His ears flicked side to side with worry - what if the horse knew who he was, where he lived, who his father was? He had no doubt that this horse, if he knew that his grandfather had been the one to take the War Lord's father's life, would take his life in much the same fashion.
The young stallion quickly pushed such thoughts from his mind, took a deep breath, and remembered what his father had advised him to do in such situations. The words echoed around his mind, his only reassurance in this terrifying situation. Keep calm and pretend to be one of them. That's what his father had said, and he took the words to heart. He focussed entirely on them, imagining writing them in the air in front of him with Aunt Hilda's elegant cursive hand. He faltered upon reaching pretend, he could not remember how to spell it - didn't it start with a p, then r, then a? Or was it e? He stomped his hoof gently in frustration as he pondered the spelling.
Moments later, his vision was filled with a dark equine, almost the same height as him. Now was not the time for spelling, he reminded himself, and tried to focus on the task at hand. The horse, who he could smell was a stallion like him, broke into a smile as he approached, before opening his mouth to speak; "Hello! Are you new here?"
Those five words were all he uttered, but to Cormac they were terrifying. He struggled to get his brain to work in any productive way and felt his mouth open before he really had anything to say. "Uhhh... yes. Yes I am." There was a pause while he thought of something else to say, to fill the void in front of him and hopefully appease the beast that confronted him. "What about you, uh, I've not seen you around before?"
Now the fear of confrontation had dissipated, he noticed that the stallion who had become a great beast in his mind's eye was in fact somewhat scrawny, with tufts of baby fur still clumped amidst his sleek black and white adolescent coat. Cormac guessed that the stranger was around the same age as him, maybe a little younger, although in truth he had very little experience of what a 'normal' sixteen-year-old looked like.
671 words || post 2
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Post by Deleted on Feb 6, 2017 20:13:18 GMT -6
The young stallion's head tipped to the side with curiosity as he noticed a hesitant, almost scared look cross the other's features. He dipped his head and took a step back, his ears flicking to the side. He hadnt meant to scare him! He had only thought that he had needed a friend... Maybe he was too close.
He took another step back.
He picked up his head ever so slightly as the stranger answered him, claiming to be new. His eyes lit up ever so slightly. This was someone who was around the same age as him, but didnt know of his father or his failures. This one could potentially be a friend.. a real friend..
His thoughts had almost made him miss the other colt's next question, his head flinging up and gangly hair flopping against his neck. His ears flicked forward as he shook his head with a slight chuckle. "Oh, no." He replied, dancing in one place as he swiveled on his front legs to look back in the direction of town. "I live here. Well, not here, but near here. I come to town almost every day, though." He snorted as he gave a short nod, just like how he had seen his father do when he was speaking to others.
He glanced back toward the other young stallion and took the time to actually study him. He noticed his almost chocolate brown coat, laced with sharp white markings that sprouted from his legs and muzzle. He almost looked like a younger version of his father, save for the fact that he was lacking a large horn sprouting from his forehead. Even his eyes were the same color.
Muiris's gaze narrowed ever so slightly as he tipped his head in question. "Where do you come from, then?" He asked curiously, taking a step toward the stranger as he noticed he didnt look so frightened. "You're not a vagabond, are you?" He father had always told him to be wary of the vagabonds. They were dangerous, always looking for a way to steal from their herders or farmers. Some of them even killed equine for fun. WC: 361 | Post #2
Sorry its a little on the shorter side!
NOTE: turning this in for AP at this point, can continue the rp if wanted |
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