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Post by .๑whovian๑. on Oct 12, 2011 19:17:10 GMT -5
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The road was long and cold, and he was alone. He was always alone. He had seen so much battle, and so much blood, he didn't know how much more he could take. The battered stallion hadn't even been on this earth for ten years, and he had already seen more pain and suffering than many a older stallions. He shook his head absentmindedly. The road. A path, well worn and traveled took him to these plains. These ancient battle fields, where tooth and flesh had clashed, and blood been spilled. He looked out mournfully at the dark stained grass that flowed, blowing gently in the wind. The breeze was gentle, but chilling, even to his battle-hardened hide.
"The road," he said, looking at the wide, open path before him. "Ah, the ever open road to doom, and to death." Traveled too often. He sighed heavily, and without thinking, he began humming a tune. A song he had once heard, when he was young, a song of travel, of the road, and often sung to war. It could be spirited, it could be jolly, it could be filled with hope. But at the time the stallion sang, it spoke no joy, and chilled the bones. His low, dark, and mournful voice filled the silent air with the quiet tune that went like this:
Roads go ever ever on, Over rock and under tree, By caves where never sun has shone, By streams that never find the sea; Over snow by winter sown, And through the merry flowers of June, Over grass and over stone, And under mountains in the moon.
Roads go ever ever on, Under cloud and under star. Yet feet that wandering have gone Turn at last to home afar. Eyes that fire and sword have seen, And horror in the halls of stone Look at last on meadows green, And trees and hills they long have known.
The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with weary feet, Until it joins some larger way, Where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say.
The Road goes ever on and on Out from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone. Let others follow, if they can! Let them a journety new begin. But I at last with weary feet Will turn towards the lighted inn, My evening-rest and sleep to meet.
Still 'round the corner there may wait A new road or secret gate; And though I oft have passed them by, A day will come at last when I Shall take the hidden paths that run West of the Moon, East of the Sun.
When he reached the end of the tune, had had traveled some distance, but he wasn't really paying attention to it. He did not care where his feet took him, nor did he care who he met along his way. He was a soldier, and nearly immortal in the eyes of many comrades. He had beaten some of the best and biggest soldiers of rivaling armies, though he took no joy in his duties. No, it had driven him mad. It had caused him anger, terrible madness that turned to insanity and changed him. The horror of battle had turned him into a monster and he had fled to the hills. But a creature of unknown power had set him right. He had spoken to him in a strange language, but somehow, the broken warrior had understood. He had understood, and he had come home.
Now he was on the road again. The same road, the road to war.
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Post by Wild@Heart on Oct 13, 2011 18:07:22 GMT -5
Reply coming soon.
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Post by .๑whovian๑. on Oct 22, 2011 19:09:31 GMT -5
omnomnom
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Post by .๑whovian๑. on Nov 8, 2011 20:54:38 GMT -5
RAWR. lol
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Post by Wild@Heart on Nov 8, 2011 21:30:01 GMT -5
Many had come and gone, and yet I was a constant. I had seen strong warriors cross through these lands before, conversed with them for hours before their well worn bodies continued on, footprints leading the way to battle. And I had seen the weak, the torn flesh of the wounded as they attempted to stagger their way home before collapsing in a puddle of blood, never to walk again. And for each of the dead, for each of the creatures that would never again live, I had sung them my song. It was one of sorrow, and yet it would be what carried their empty soul up to the heavens above. These creatures were the brave, risking everything they had to defend what they thought was right. It was hardly purposeful when they lost their life.
And yet, I stayed here. This was my home, the lands that I traveled over and over again. I tired of this barren landscape, walking miles with only the company of dried bones and cracked earth. And yet, I never left. And even though there was little food, and even less water, my body was no worse for the ware, muscle was bulging underneath taught hide, my charcoal orbs glistening as tassels danced in the breeze. I fed off of the souls of these creatures, of their last dying breaths. And as I sang my song to each and every one my energy was renewed, hunger met and thirst quenched.
But today was gloomier than most. The sun above was surrounded by dark clouds, and although it appeared as if it might rain I knew that it wouldn’t. It was rare that the heavens above would grace such ground with water, cleansing the earth from all sin. Instead the soil was stained a deep red, a reminder of what was to come of the brave. It was a heart wrenching thing, really, and often warm tears spilled forth from my pools at what I witnessed.
I heard a song in the distance, the words floating upon the air and entering my harks. The voice that carried them, it was of a man and I could only guess that this was his battle song. But it was not how I would have suspected it. It wasn’t something threatening at all; instead it was of a softer aire, holding loneliness and the want for company. And so I began to journey towards the sound, curious as to what beast had such a lovely voice. I could see his dark frame in the distance, and with every step I took his body grew larger, until I could see fine detail. He was a dark bay, well muscles with chocolate pools. And as I took in all that was him, my cave opened and my voice flowed out, in a singsong manner. A looker you be! Yes, a looker you be, I cooed. A warm smile lit up my mask, and my pools locked upon his, drawing him in. What a welcoming sight I was.
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Post by .๑whovian๑. on Nov 8, 2011 22:06:38 GMT -5
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Brego was well aware of somebody nearby, and for a moment, he did not say anything. In fact, he did not even look at her. However, as her melodic voice drifted through the air, he stopped in his tracks, and looked around at the source. And there she was. She was a beautiful mare, her light coat flecked with darker marks, she had an elegant Arab frame, and a strange, beautiful voice. She spoke in an odd, singsong tone, like she was singing a song to him, but she seemed almost playful as well. She was curious, and intriguing to the battered old war stallion, and not to mention enticing. He turned to face her, and though he was....captivated, he was not smitten. No, it was not in his nature to be smitten by mares. A smile crept upon his lips a moment, after she was finished speaking.
"You are a fair sight as well," he said calmly. He meant it as a compliment, but his tone was not quite the same as hers. She was, indeed, very beautiful. But Brego was a man of the voice, and a man of songs, which was probably why he felt more drawn to her than he would another, less melodic mare. Sure, she was pretty, but he had never felt drawn in by greys, or attracted to the pearly color, even a fleabitten. No, it was her voice that drew him in. "Is there a name, hidden behind that melodic voice, or must I venture to guess?" his tone, dare he say, was almost sly, playful. He had not felt like this in a long time, and he liked it. His battered, traumatized old soul seemed to look up and sniff the air, purring slightly. How odd. However, he was not going to give himself over to this creature.
He was a firm believer in knowing one another. He wanted to see what she was really looking for. Companionship? Love? Or was she just looking for somebody to be with...intimately. He began to walk again, walking towards her a moment, and then off to the side, and then he turned and began walking down the path again, but he moved over so that she could walk with him for a while. If nothing else, he would like the company for a while, even if it was flirtatious company. Flirtatious company? My my Brego, you certainly have struck a new level old chap.
Indeed he had.
muse; good notes; a bit short....O.o but I like them, hehe.......
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Post by .๑whovian๑. on Nov 18, 2011 20:21:19 GMT -5
KABOOM! Yay.
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Post by Wild@Heart on Dec 5, 2011 14:18:09 GMT -5
As I spoke the stag hesitated, turning to look at my ivory frame, our dark pools interlocking. My own were filled with mischief, his reflecting curiosity. My nostrils flared, inhaling his musky odor, and catching a bit of his history at the same time. He had to have some warmblood in him, that much was clear. His frame was larger than my own, both taller and broader. And he was an older character, this soldier, yet not ancient. He was in the prime of his life now, both well know ledged and yet very strong.
As a smile pulled up at the corner of his lips, my own mask was like putty, forming to match his own. You are a fair sight as well. His voice was soft, and yet strong and demanding at the same time. Already I honored him for this, for the way he handled himself and the voice in which he used to speak. Is there a name, hidden behind that melodic voice? Or must I venture to guess? This time, his tone much the same, but with an edge of playful banter hidden deep within, wrapped up in his tone. My pools twinkled, hidden intentions buried beneath, and as he began to move his pillars once more, soft u shapes appearing upon the ground, I followed.
Perhaps, I purred in his ear as I spoke, my voice, as always, alluring and spoken in a song like tone. But where is the fun if I tell you the answer? I let my muzzle rest upon his back for a mere moment, chin taking the sharp joust with each step. Guess, I half asked, half demanded, my voice flirty and playful all at the same time.
He kept a good pace, one that I could keep up with and honor at the same time. He was a noble soldier, one that had seen even more than I; One that had experienced and done much more than many. I could only imagine the things he had done, been forced to do, and part of me wondered if it ever haunted him, part of me wanted to ask. And yet I knew better, I knew that I mustn’t be a nuisance, merely a companion until he told me otherwise. And I would do just that, I would entertain him until he made it clear that he wanted it no more. But there seemed to be more to him, more than just the pretty face. I would just have to wait and see, maybe he wouldn’t be one that was so easy to let go of. Maybe this time, maybe for him, my job would be a challenge.
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