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Not found on any map, Endrykas is a large migrating tent city wherein the horseclans of Cyphrus gather to trade and exchange information. [Lore]

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The Horse And His Boy

Postby Colt on July 25th, 2013, 8:50 pm

Image28th of summer, 513 av
between morning and noon

Empty.

Shahar bared his teeth at nothing in particular and cast the trap to the ground in irritation. Twice he’d set and reset this noose, and twice it had failed to claim prey. It was easy enough to admit that trapping was not his forte, but two days had passed with only a single hare to either of his snares, and he was beginning to grow very annoyed with the contraptions, and through them, his own lack of skill.

He picked the snare from the ground and tucked in in his belt, stalking off to find another trail to hover over.

Akaidras raised his head as the hunter stomped irritably into the clearing that he had decided to use as a base of operations. Sensing his rider’s foul mood, the horse saw fit to remain stationary as Shahar rooted around for another trail. If there was a time to irritate the Drykas, the time was not now.

A grouse path soon made itself known to the Dawnwhisper, assuaging some part of his ire. He reset the snare, then settled onto his haunches to survey the site. Grumbling about empty traps only made him annoyed; what could he do to make them better?

Perhaps he could fortify the trail. A bit of grass woven sideways, just to keep the grouse from wandering away from where the trap would catch them. Grouse were stupid, and so they would not see it and become wary. Perhaps that was what he had been missing. Annoyance forgotten, Shahar pulled some of the previous year’s growth from the ground and began to make subtle walls on either side of the trail. He stood up feeling much more optimistic.

Akaidras, seeing his rider’s change of disposition, quickly took the opportunity to mosey over and headbutt Shahar’s back. Shahar turned, what? and puzzled in his posture, in time to receive another bump to the chest. Satisfied that he had his rider’s attention, the stallion nickered and turned to nuzzle one of the bags on the yvas. And in case Shahar still hadn’t gotten it, Akaidras bumped his shoulder a third time and nuzzled the bag again to drive the point farther.

Now curious, the Drykas untied the bag and took stock of the contents. A vial of rabbit-scent, a blood-pellet, some dried fruit, a brush… ah. Shahar turned a knowing eye on his Strider and pulled the horse-brush from the bag. Akaidras pricked his ears brightly in affirmation, bumping Shahar once more to illustrate. The hunter laughed—a soft, whispery laugh, but a laugh nonetheless—and leaned close to his Strider’s ear.

“Later,” he murmured. “Home.” Wait, calm, promise.

The stallion neighed in dismay as Shahar swung onto his back. Smiling in an odd combination of affection and exasperation, the hunter tapped promise against the horse’s shoulder and showed him that he had not put the brush back in the bag.

“Home,” he said again. Akaidras let out a grunt, but didn’t make too much more of a fuss; he knew well enough that to spend too much time away from the city was dangerous, and if it meant more brushing, he certainly wouldn’t complain.

Shahar leaned forward and squeezed the stallion’s sides, and Akaidras leaped into a canter.
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Last edited by Colt on November 24th, 2013, 7:15 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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The Horse And His Boy

Postby Colt on July 25th, 2013, 8:53 pm

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Akaidras sped into a gallop, and Shahar let him. They usually didn’t reach such speeds—Shahar was capable of sitting upon a moving horse without falling off, but controlling one at a gallop remained beyond him—but there was no need to direct Akaidras; he knew where home was as well as his rider did.

The grass flew by them, infinite in an unchanging blur of gold. It whipped at his knees, but he’d had the common sense to wear long breeches, and the grass did little but tug out a stray thread here and there. His arms, however, were another story; left bare in the heat of summer, the tips of the grass stung at his skin, drawing hair-thin lines of red that were too small to bleed or scar. He didn’t mind; the wind beat at his chest and roared through his ears, stealing the blistering burn of the sun in a rush of coolness. He breathed deep of the air, straightening to let the messy tumble of auburn atop his head to fly unbound.

Akaidras’ breaths were full and long, but not labored—he’d awhile to go before weariness drew foam from his hide. He reveled in his own power, and reveled even more in his ability to share it with his rider. They were not one being, as some poets might deign to title a Drykas and his Strider, but that was alright—Shahar surrendered to Akaidras, and both drew joy from the hissing cloud of dust that was left in their wake.

Unsatisfied, the stallion lowered his head to do what only a Strider could. Through him, Shahar felt the barest tremor as the Web was tapped, and had just enough time to snake his fingers through Akaidras’ mane as their speed suddenly doubled.

He yelped in surprise as Akaidras took a small hop over a gully, flicking his tail happily. They were in no hurry nor danger, but the stallion certainly didn’t care—what reason did he need to run, more than the simple fact that he could?

Shahar, for his part, was far too terrified to contest the beast. The wind, once a comfortable roar, had become a driving force that appeared determined to see him unhorsed. He locked his legs around the yvas and wrapped an arm around Akaidras’ neck, which was a good enough to secure him, at least for now. As long as Akaidras didn’t decide to take a detour to make the run longer just because he felt like being contrary.
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The Horse And His Boy

Postby Colt on July 25th, 2013, 8:56 pm

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The terrain gained some familiarity—well, as much familiarity as never-ending grass could have gained—and Akaidras dropped his Stride to return to a normal gallop. That, in turn, became a canter, and by the time Shahar spotted pavilion flags peeking over the sea of brown he was able to struggle into a proper yvas stance once more. Though heaving great lungfuls of air, Akaidras’ ears were put forward with considerable cheer, and he all but clicked his heels as the two of them approached the outskirts of Endrykas.

They had made their approach near the thick of the Topaz Clan, and so Shahar angled his horse west, towards the Ruby Clan. His camp was a shade between both districts, though Shahar himself claimed ties to neither—his name was his, and his alone, but familial ties were not things that could just be decided upon. No Clan had yet claimed him for its own, but that was alright—he didn’t like large amounts of people, and those would surely come with a Clan. He was perfectly happy where he was.

The cluster of tents was far enough from Endrykas that one must go out of their way to disturb it, but close enough to reap the rewards of belonging to a collective—though it was a bit of a risky position, predators would not venture so close to the city for the pickings there, especially with the scent of snake enwreathing the place. Even grass bears would hesitate to take on a Dhani.

Once again, the hunter found his thoughts wandering to Slither. He couldn’t deny that the creature unnerved him, but it was the way that he unnerved him that was odd. The simple fact of his race and subsequent appearance was not what perturbed Shahar so; it was his eyes, if anything. The complete apathy that laid there, the broken-ness, it was so completely jarring when seen from the eyes of a thing such as Slither. Slither was a beast of power and speed, born to hunt and kill and devour without fear. A beast born to rule his element as the apex predator, controlled by none and feared by all. And to be called “Master” by such a creature… it almost made Shahar sick with how wrong it was.

Akaidras slowed to a trot as they came nearer.

He wanted to change it. Oh, how desperately he wanted to change it. But how? Slither was a slave, and a broken one, at that—the scars upon his scales told of unspeakable pain, pain suffered over and over again. He didn’t need to read minds to know that the Dhani didn’t trust him, and it was a mistrust that was accepted, even expected between a master and slave. That made it virtually indefinite, which then made it a very complex thing to remove.

Shahar let out a sigh, one of countless that he had given to the matter. There was no definite answer that loomed before his eyes, but he had to have hope that, somewhere, he would find a way to heal whatever it was that had been shattered.
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The Horse And His Boy

Postby Colt on July 25th, 2013, 9:01 pm

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Akaidras didn’t stop immediately when they reached home. Not quite ready to end the lull of movement, the stallion walk-trotted a lazy circle around the hearth at the center of the triangle of tents. Shahar grumbled and leaned back, sharply signaling the horse to stop. Akaidras let out a long-suffering sigh, but begrudgingly came to a halt and allowed his rider to dismount. His feet had barely touched the ground before the Strider was on him again, nudging at the hand with the brush and demanding attention with the tool.

Calm, Shahar said with a chuckle, wait, it’s alright. Promise. He turned his focus to the yvas, carefully undoing the straps that held the not-quite-saddle to the horse’s back. His movements did not have the lightning-quick, second-nature feel as another Drykas might have had, but they were comfortable. He had learned his way around the leather pad, and it wasn’t nearly as clumsy in his hands as it had been in the fall. It was… decent. Nothing more, nothing less.

Akaidras’ dark brown hide had been made black by the sweat beneath the yvas, and the horse let out a small sigh of pleasure as the open air relieved some of the heat. Shahar placed the yvas by his tent, but the horse had not been so relieved as to loose grip of his memory—he still wanted a brushing, bumped the Drykas to prove it. Shahar had fiddled with his human things for quite long enough, and Akaidras wanted to be brushed now.

Clucking his tongue as a mother might towards a particularly whiney child, the hunter put the hard-bristled thing to the stallion’s shoulder. He brushed towards the rump, in the direction that the hair flowed, and behind it was left a streak of glossy brown-ebony among the dusty half-black of the rest of the hide. Another brush, another streak; beneath film after film of dirt, Akaidras’ hide was one that had the natural inclination to shine, and when the layers of grime were removed it shimmered with the luminance that Striders so often possessed. Of course, with so dark a color, it wasn’t really a glow that Akaidras produced; he seemed instead to absorb the light around him, change it and turn it into a dull shine. Like the kohl of the southern traders, it muted Syna’s glare and rendered him far easier to look at than the brighter, more reflective surface of Cyphrus.

The Strider snorted in pleasure and moved his head in such a way as to move his mane from the brush’s path. Within a minute half of the creature’s shoulder had been revealed for the near-sanguine shade that it was, and within five Shahar had moved to his back. The Drykas settled into the repetitive motion of the brush in his hand, gently taking as much time as he needed to banish the dust. Akaidras turned to eye his clean side, whickered in approval, and then the two of them fell into a calm, easy silence.

- End -
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The Horse And His Boy

Postby Taylani on November 25th, 2013, 6:28 pm

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XP Award!


Sharhar Dawnwhisperer:

XP Award:
  • +1 trapping
  • +1 observation
  • +3 riding
  • +2 horsemanship

Lore:
  • Annoyances of empty snares
  • Allowing a horse to lead can be terrifying
  • Slither: Broken slave

Notes:

Comments :
Please feel free to pm me with any concerns about your grade, and don’t forget to delete your post in the Graders request. .

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