Your King Asmodeus | ||
Your Queen | ||
The Second None | ||
The Herd Name, Name, Name | The Sub-Herd Name, Name, Name | |
Allies Name (Land) | Enemies Solomon (Cove) | |
The Rules
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Posted on December 3, 2012 at 05:30:11 AM by el aran
In the distance, a black form materialized through the haze. El Aran, already tense, jerked a little. Her heartbeat increased as the other horse neared, and when it was close enough to observe her ears turned back in concern. The black stallion’s coat seemed to soak up and absorb the sun, and his nose had a more pronounced dish than hers did. If the fine bones in his legs and slender body had not convinced her, the despicable carriage of his head and body did: the stallion was a full-blooded Arabian. El Aran’s ears flattened as she lifted her chin. There could be no mistaking the arrogance and pride of the breed. He expelled it from himself with every fart and exhale.
Her own black body was dull and uninteresting, skinny rather than slim and lacking the glorious sheen that all Akhal-Teke’s carried. The slight dish in her face and the occasional tendency to flag her tail were the only signs she’d inherited anything at all from her cocksure Arabian ancestors. But El Aran was proud, perhaps moreso than any Arabian or Akhal-Teke, although her pride did not come from the supposed superiority of her bloodlines. She carried a multitude of scars on her body, most clustered along her neck, shoulders, and flanks in silent tribute of the violent battles she had escaped from with her life. The seer drew her head back and away from the stallion as he stopped before her. Her nostrils flared wide as she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her thundering heart, and she did not look away from the stallion as his smooth voice caressed the dry air. El Aran trusted neither his tone nor his words, and in the pause after his first statement she rolled a dark, wary eye at him. There had been the unspoken agreement among her people that anyone who spoke with the words of a diplomat and the voice of a saint was full of aggression and ulterior motives. El Aran had interacted with his kind before, and she would treat this stallion as she had treated every other Arabian or Akhal-Teke she had been subjected to. Her hindquarters clenched as she prepared herself, but when he introduced himself she hesitated. This was much worse than she had originally thought. The rest of the stallion’s words held no weight with the black mare. El Aran had little care for anyone who thought that sauntering into a territory allowed them to claim it. She had been in this Desert for over two years and had more right to the land than anyone else. And she would not allow herself to be driven out of another desert by a proud, detestable Arabian for the second time in her life. Even if it had been her choice to leave her home all those years ago, it had still been an exile brought about by the intolerance and hate of the Purebreds. This Desert was her land, and someday it might be her son’s. She would not be cast aside so easily. “Aşk!” she cried, and lunged forward in a rear. Her prayer was not for her, but for the sake of Orhan, and the hope that her son would have the good sense to keep hidden as El Aran struck out at the intruder with her front hooves. Her mouth gaped, head extending as she sought to find purchase with her teeth somewhere on the stallion’s face or neck. el aran
Seer of Aşk. |
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Replies:
- the devil breathed,& there he was - By El Shetan December 5, 2012 at 08:28:46 PM
- the gods contend in vain - By el aran December 16, 2012 at 05:15:00 PM
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