"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
The paint stallion slipped quietly across the border of the Amazon. It had been a long time since he had last been here. If he wasn't mistaken, the last time he had truly stepped foot inside the Amazon and not just skirted her border was when he had run into Echion and Malka and revealed to the pair that they were half-siblings.
He had always been fond of the Jungle, and not simply because of the fact that he first true love had lived here, nor that he carried her tattoo on his rump. There was a sort of tranquility in the Jungle that always pulled him back and it's depth and winding paths made it easy for someone to simply get lost among it; a task the paint stallion was currently trying to accomplish.
A soft sigh fell from his lips as he walked, his ears flickering back and forth as they followed the sounds of the menagerie of Jungle creatures that roamed this terrain. He loved listening to the roar of the big cats, the warbling of the various birds and the croaks from the tree frogs as he moved along. He had missed this little retreat greatly and for the first time in a while, he actually felt calm for a bit.
After a long walk through the Jungle, he came to a stop at a rather large tree and leaned his shoulder against her trunk. He shook his head lightly and let his eyes drop close. Even though he was immortal, he was old and this old creature needed a quick cat nap.
Rodrik has spent too long in the confinement of this kingdom. However, it has healed wounds that could not heal on their own. He needed the magic of the jungle – to relive memories of his childhood and family, but most importantly his mother. The blood king loved his mother fiercely with a love that could never be broken. When she died, she had taken a part of him with her. The only way he could find peace with himself and her death was finding her within the magic of this jungle.
It is time he went home. The Chamber called him back once more. So, he makes his way through the jungle, the north route he has always followed from the Chamber to the Jungle or back. However, something stops him and redirects his need to return. The site of the paint stallion leaning against the trunk of the jungle tree brings him to an abrupt halt. Images, long ago and suppressed deep into the darkness of his mind, come flashing back of the war that raged on in the Valley. The scene of his mother being injured plays out and he recalls trying to protect her with every strength he had in him that day, but it was not enough to save his mother.
This was the stallion that broke his mother. He tore her down from her crown and sent her into a hysterical phase of her life. This stranger is the reason his mother’s spirit had died many years before she had passed away with his father. And he even stole away the life of his little sibling.
Rodrik flares his nostrils with irritation, a boiling angry growing in his gut. He approaches the stallion with heavy steps; tail flickering with distaste and hatred. A loud cough escapes from his throat as he settles close to the front of the stallion. “You,” he says loudly with a firm voice, “What is your name?” He will at least know the stallion’s name before he decides to take what life is owed to his mother. His newly healed wounds are now opened, causing him a pain that cannot be described. How ironic it is the Jungle repays him for his loss and suffering of his late mother.
03-28-2015, 01:57 PM (This post was last modified: 03-28-2015, 01:58 PM by Hakeem.)
the lion sleeps tonight
He stands calmly against the tree, ears flickering on top of his head as he takes in the pleasant Jungle noises. That tranquility is soon interrupted though by the sound of heavy footfall behind him. His nostrils flare and the overwhelming smell of the Chamber reaches his senses. He quickly stands up, body tense as he expects nothing good to come of this meeting. What could the Chamber be doing here in the Amazons.
The chestnut horse quickly steps in front of Hakeem and the paint stallion throws his front leg out suddenly in warning as his ears pinned back flat to his head. "Why do you wish to know" he asks the stranger when questioned for his name. The other had not offered up any name either and Hakeem was not currently inclined to give his own to what appeared to him, to be some random invader. Hakeem had been much the warrior during his younger days and going against a single horse did not worry him.
"You best be on your way, child," he informs the other stallion in a heavy tone, nostrils flaring open in his annoyance. All he wanted to do today was to relax and that relaxation was being disturbed.
The red king was hardly distorted by the thought that this stallion could harm him. Rodrik may not be a master in the arts of battle but he has learned to fight and kill. He is no stranger to bloodshed when his words are not sharp enough to kill another. The Blood King after all has prepared for this day for many years. He will not go silently away when fate has offered him justice on a silver platter so willingly.
“You took something precious from me,” he snaps. Rodrik bares his teeth and his ears pin against the back of his chestnut head. When the paint stallion calls him a “child,” he flares his nostril angrily and stomps his right hoof against the jungle floor heavily. He chuckles again. “I am no ‘child’, you old fart,” he says sternly with dissatisfaction.
He snorts loudly. “I am Rodrik, if you must know,” You will remember that before I kill you, he says, keeping the words to himself. “Now, what is your name?” He asks once again, his tone is more sharper now.
He was not sure what was going on, for he had never before met this stallion before and when he speaks, Hakeem cannot control his retort. "You must be insane, I've never even met you before!," he exclaims as he returns the angry bared teeth and flattened ears, tail whipping harshly against his hocks as he settles back ever so slightly. It was apparent that this stallion was not right in the mind and something was going to come of it. There was no talking sense into the senseless. He speaks again and Hakeem can't help but scoff. Obviously, this stallion was naught but a child because he acted childly, but it was apparent that egging him on further would only cause more issues and so, he bites his tongue.
"My name is Hakeem, but I again reiterate that we've never met," he says, for he was positive that he had never seen this hot-headed steed before (because he was sure that he would remember). He carried no marks of the Jungle and Hakeem was simply starting to wonder if this steed was very mistakenly lost and confused (maybe he was being mind-controlled or something similar), but he stands his ground, for he was not going to have some stranger run him out of one of the few places he was still accepted.
There was no mistaking that this was the same stallion that attacked his mother. Hakeem may not have slaughtered like many of the other horses had been during the war, but he had broken her spirit and kill the very creature she was and stolen his little sister’s life. He is the reason his family became broken, and Rodrik will see to that he pays for it. The blood king could never forget that. It’s been a long time coming and patients he has kept.
He does not care if he is being hot headed and childish in this situation. After all, Rodrik is returning the same favor that Hakeem gave; he is only an angel following the golden rule (thou shall treat thy neighbor as thyself) but truly a devil in disguise. It does not matter now what happens, only that he returns the favor.
Rodrik chuckles softly. “I am far from that,” he is not a illogical individual, Rodrik is much of a rational thinker than anything else. “You killed my family. You destroyed my mother, Kagerou, and took my little sister’s life at the war in the Valley several years ago.” He states firmly with his nutmeg eyes narrowing at the painted stallion. “How could you not remember that?”
The blood king snorts loudly. His patients are growing weaker by the millisecond. Rodrik is on the verge to strike, but he holds back for a little longer. “Your markings say you belong to the Jungle, but you are not even worthy to call this place home,” he spits, “Especially if you murder not one but two of those that belonged here.” It disgusted him to even think that. His childhood home needed to be cleansed of this murderer and for the sake of his mother and little sister Hakeem would now pay.
“You’ll die the same way you killed my family, Hakeem!” he huffs. Rodrik quickly lunges forward towards the stallion. He lets out a screeching cry, echoing through the jungle. The red stallion’s teeth are exposed and he pushes forward to bite, kick, and kill the paint stallion.
04-01-2015, 04:51 PM (This post was last modified: 04-01-2015, 04:53 PM by Hakeem.)
the lion sleeps tonight
The insane horse speaks of the Valley war and Hakeem is stuck thinking back. He had only "attacked" two mares, and one of which was his own daughter and he knew the nutmug steed was not his grandson and so, that left one mare. "If this Kagerou you speak of was that funky spotted mare, than the only reason she was attacked was because she attacked me first," Hakeem says heatedly. He couldn't believe his current situation was over him defending himself from his own daughter. "You're mother foolishly tried to defend my daughter after she had attacked me first. I took an ass full of her stupid spikes and spent the next several weeks ill from it," he returns heatedly. He had remembered the days he had spent sick in the Valley as his body suffered through the poison from her barbs, yet his immortality had not let him die.
"If a simple buck killed your mother, than she was too old to be in battle," he says, for Hakeem remembers bucking out to clear the spotted mare from his blind spot as quetzal Malka fell from the sky trying to gouge out his eyes with her claws. It was shortly after that where he had been the one to call the cease fire to the fighting. "But I did not kill anyone. If your mother died from her injuries, it was because she foolishly put herself not in kingdom matters, but in personal family matters," he retorts. Malka had not attacked him because he stood on the Valley side of the war, but simply because she had a long history of hatred built up towards the painted steed. "I only attacked one mare, besides my own daughter, so if your mother was dumb enough to fight pregnant, than she obviously didn't care enough about your sister to keep her safe," he shoots off, having now completely thrown his manners aside in light of the false (and completed distorted) thoughts that this Rodrik threw at him.
He speaks of Hakeem's belonging in the Jungle and the steed scoffs loudly. "My tattoos have nothing to do with the Jungle, but rather for the love I held for one of her mares," he informs the other steed. Hakeem's tattoo had actually been a part of crazy Jungle magic and had happened long before the custom of a manservant taking his lady's tattoo. "If the Jungle chooses to harbor such folks as yourself, I'm glad that I never aligned myself to her," Hakeem returns. Jadis had long been gone from the Jungle and even when she was here, Hakeem had always noticed that she was different then the rest. She had a stable head on her shoulder and was one to avoid problems -- of which the same could not be said of many of the Jungle's other followers.
"You're family got itself killed!" he replies as Rodrik leaps at him with teeth bared. Hakeem had been raised a warrior and had fought many times his his lifetime. He was older now and somewhat out of shape, but as Rodrik rushes forward, Hakeem quickly rises in a half rear, his own ears still flat to his head and teeth bared as well. His front legs strike out, though not with the fluidity that they once would have. His first thought was simply to defend himself, but he quickly realized that this was to be a fight to the death and is forced to change his own mindset to simple defense until the hot-head calmed to attempting to save his own life, at any cost.
The words that slipped from the painted stallion’s lips only raged him more. It was rage and hatred that could not be controlled, a terrible storm brewing too quickly and ready to break anything in its way. Rodrik does not have anymore patient now. He cannot hold himself back, nor does he have the capacity right now to be leveled headed with the painted stallion.
He cannot be when it involves his family, especially since Hakeem speaks so ill of those he loves. This cannot be tolerated anymore. Rodrik will not hear anymore of it from someone who does not understand where he comes from. Hakeem could never know the loss he felt when his mother died, it burned more than any pain he ever knew.
Rodrik notices right away that Hakeem is not one to run away from a threat. The paint stallion fights to protect himself; however, Rodrik will see to his death. It does not matter if he must die trying only that the paint stallion is dead as well.
The Blood King fights with teeth and hooves. His heart beats fiercely with a passion and will of justice that must be served with blood. Their hooves colloid against one another, hitting each other’s limbs and exposed chest muscles. It isn’t enough though, not when both of them are fighting for their own lives, only a matter of death could settle this because Rodrik is not willingly to calm down and let his guard down.
He can feel his blood rush profusely through his body – it is so toxic and deadly. It then feels the pores in his skin, emitting into the air and onto his hair particles. You will die from my poison though, you foolish bastard! he thinks because truly he does not have time to speak the words and he does not believe Hakeem deserves them. The poisonous gas lathers his skin and a toxic emission begins to surround them.
Rodrik and Hakeem then land onto the their hooves, but Rodrik is then up again fighting with every ounce of energy he has. He knows the poisonous toxin will slow down Hakeem and also inflict any pain on him. Rodrik continues to push one limb after the other, hooves searching for flesh, teeth tasting for blood, and heart searching for vengeance.
He is beyond confused at this point, but has long come to realize that there will be no reasoning anymore with this chestnut horse. He is past the point of reason and will only see things his way. Words cease and hooves and teeth begin to fly. As with all things battles, the two let out their fair share of grunts, snorts and even the occasional squeal as a painful attack reaches it mark.
Hakeem is surprised that they still remain alone as he had always known the Jungle mares to be very attentive and quite defensive of their home, but for some reason, not one has yet to come check on the noise that the pair makes as the crash around in circles among the underbrush. Soon after the battle starts, there is a searing pain running through his body. Every spot where Rodrik's teeth or hooves meet his skin feel like a thousand hot pebbles being forced into his flesh. Where they push against each other in an attempt of forcing the other to stumble, his skin welts up as the poison seeps through it. Every movement he makes is excruciating at best and at worst, he wished he could just stop where he was, but he knows he can't. If he stops, the enraged stallion will most certainly win him over and so, it is with flattened ears and every last bit of gut left inside of him that he continues to rush, strike and meet Rodrik in his attacks.
He is old though and he knows he will not be able to keep this up for long.
She flies quietly through the Jungle. She has been home for almost a year now and she has grown more relaxed among the new faces, even though she has yet to personally meet many of them. Her long tail drags pleasantly through the trees as she beats her wings and keeps a silent eye on the on-goings below. As always, the big cats lift a lazy gaze at her as she goes over them, but they have yet to try and catch her (who knows if it's because they know her for what she is or the simply have no interest in the heavily plumaged bird). Her pleasant flight though is soon interrupted by a ear-shattering (especially so for her sensitive bird ears!) squeal followed by a further series of grunts and snorts. She quickly alters her path to find the source of the sounds that penetrate through the Jungle's solitude.
It does not take her long to find the fighting stallions and this alone frightens her. Stallions are not typically welcomed among the Jungle, much less those with the kind of spirit that this pair seems to have. They are very heatedly in battle and Malka almost doesn't care to stop them. Hey, if they want to kill themselves, then let them have at it. She sits in the tree for a bit watching the pair, but something on what she has mentally deemed the underdog of the battle catches her attention. She quickly alights from the tree, careful flying around the pair to get a closer look at the object that had drawn her attention. It was an item that she had seen hundreds, if not thousands of times as a young foal, though not on this stallion -- on her own mother.
With his poison scorched skin, she hadn't even recognized the lightly colored overo for who he was. She quickly shifts several feet off the ground and to the side of the pair of fighting stallions so as to not to become the victim of any of their potentially misdirected anger.
"STOP IT RIGHT NOW!" she yells deeply at the pair of steeds as loudly as she can. She is not foolish enough to actually step into the ongoing fight because, even though she put a few years into the army in her younger days, she definitely was not the well defined warrior that her father had once been or did she have the experience to take on both of them if their attention turned focus on to her.
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