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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    Pee-Yew, Y'all Stink [herds]
    #1



    It smelled musty- absolutely disgustingly sweaty. With the hoards of horses chit-chatting and roaming about I truly couldn’t manage a fresh catch of air. Why on earth would so many large beasts congregate to one particular area? The sun was high, and the heat was pulsing- which only made it worse. A cough erupted from my throat, and it felt more like a hairball hacking its way through my esophagus. Unfortunately the cough did little to deter other horses from standing near me. They were locked into their conversations and determined to find a new home. I wasn’t particularly different from them, but I sure as hell didn’t care to be muddling around in the thick stench of horse.

    With a bit of ease (as much as I could manage with a bulging belly and itty bitty frame) I clambered toward the edge of the field. There was a small, muddy area that curved around a number of trees, which just so happened to deter several of the more delicate mares. I loved mud, and although I knew it might have not been the best idea to separate myself from the crowd I simply couldn’t help myself.

    With a twist of my colorful tail I lunged my small frame into the inch-deep mud and splattered it along the lower end of my legs. It felt remarkably refreshing, and I proceeded to shove my short muzzle into the cool dirt. After a few bubbles were made, and my nose was properly dirty I lifted my head. A part of me felt like I should have been embarrassed by my state of uncleanliness- but I guess any stallion (or mare) who wished to invite me to their home would now have a small idea what they were getting themselves into.

    speck
    tiny daughter of brennen and bother

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    #2
    to love is to destroy

    He had no tactic to choosing who he would take back to his herd land. Mainly he seeked out those who had tone of loneliness, Forlorn Forest did suit them at most. Others he searched for uniqueness or equine with a foreign background to the lands of Beqanna.

    His alabaster body entered the potent air, of the field. When he first came across, the field it didn't quite smell like this. The welcoming aroma had changed, muffled with hazardous scents the place didn't feel that welcoming at all. It was a living hell hole, stallions would argue about over mares but, why would he complain? He had done so too, and no judgment was worth his precious time. After all, the faster he could return to his herd the more protected his daughter would be.

    His crimson eyes searched through the crowds until he found her. She was quite unique but, judging by the circumstances of the heat it was quite a little clever idea to bath in the mud. For a matter of fact, why didn't he think of that? All these years over the summers he had gotten his pink muzzle sunburnt, along with his tender skin. She was the answer to all of his albinoism problems, at least she solved one.

    He confronted the girl, while she seemed to be in the midst of blowing bubbles within the soaked dirt. Pelting her muzzle in a thick mask. A welcoming smile, spread across his lips as his ghastly vocals entered the air, "Quite a clever idea." His ivory tail lashed out at flies, upon his hocks. The pale man took note of her colorful mane, strands of greens and yellows jumbled up within her chestnut base. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." He rasped.

    His body shifted forwards, as he lowered his muzzle into the dark chocolate paste. His muzzle now caked in mud, he flung his head upwards propelling multiple drops to speckle upon his flawless porcelain coat. He looked like a leopard appaloosa with his body speckled with the dirty substance, along with his now dark chocolate muzzle. "There we go." he chuffed as he rose his head returning his attention back to her. "I'm Daey of Forlorn Forest." His introduction now in play, and his mud plastered muzzle dripped as he awaited an answer from the clever little mare.

    and to be loved is to be the one destroyed

     

    OCC: It's one of those scroll box HTMLS (a lot of people miss that on his) Tongue
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    #3

    ♦ Fynnegan ♦


    I had taken some time away from recruiting. I had a number of new members and I had to cultivate some sort of connection between them all. The herd was growing, constantly evolving and it required much fostering to keep everything moving forward and everyone happy. It was time to venture back to the common lands and continue the word that made me proud to be a herd leader.

    Moving around Beqanna is hard work, not because of the slushy, slippery mud that winter often brought with the cycles of freezing and thawing, but more so that my short little legs didn't cover the terrain as quickly as the larger horses here. My usually smokey black coat is now browned by dirt and mud that has made nest in my coat. I am getting increasingly fluffy as the days grow shorter, and I am so very unpleased. I take pride in my fit and trim appearance, something most my size and type can't achieve. Due to my many trips across the lands I say fit. Yeah you could say a work out.

    This trip is much like the others, nothing to report until I reach the field. Always crowded by so many tall horses. I find my eye is not caught by those with larger stature, but whom other would find "coming up short." I scan the area and my attention is caught by a spirited thing. I could tell the packed area was not her thing, and she made it known by sliding in the cold mud around her. I watch the others react, rather unamused. I however, find the scene amusing, in fact I like her sass and spirit. I wished to approach, in fact I planned on it. I started out as I was a bit a way off still, but another approached blocking my view of the smaller lass with the intriguing mane and tale. I typically don't infringe on others conversations but this one had just begun, and I was just about to enter their space.

    I walk up just in time to be splatterd with a hunk of dark mud, a git from the other stallion there. He was much taller than , but it is an easy achievement at 9HH. I didn't hear any of the conversation other than the other stallion is named Daey. I had heard of him, but had never met the other lad. I dip my head, a smile on my maw and laughter in my eyes, "Well this is quite the fun way to spend the day! Indeed. I do hope I am not intruding unwelcome, I am Fynnegan from Echo Trails. I must say, deary, that I like your spirit!" Having said my piece to the lady, I look (up of course) to the other male I had yet to meet. I heard his name, and he mine so I don't waste time introducing ourselves again, but in spirit of friendly competition I try to be friendly though his red eyes are unnerving. "How is everything in the Forlorn Forest, Daey?"

    » death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily «

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