Post by CD ADMiN on May 17, 2009 4:24:20 GMT -5
<a href="http://es.tinypic.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i39.tinypic.com/r05dvc.jpg" width=88 height=31 border="0" alt="Image and video hosting by TinyPic"></a>Hell & HighWater
It really wasn't that long ago. Or, at least it doesn't seem like it.
'The first light of dawn was just breaking as the storm began to reach the ship. It wavered and faltered, trying to stay afloat in the stormy seas. The high winds quickly pushed the vessal off course, and now, instead of heading towards Eygpt, where the priceless desert horses on board were headed, its' new path took it striaght across the sea and towards the wild of Arabia. The horses were by all means, terrified. Three stallions and twenty mares, three with foals cowering at their sides, all rearing, and tearing their stalls apart. The three stallions were the most prized of all, there was a pure black spanish barb named Abbas, he was feirce and powerful, matching his name, which meant 'lion' in arabic. The second stallion was not as angered by the swells that rocked the boat, showing his anger in short spouts. He was a stunning bay splash paint anglo-arabian, named Badr, meaning 'full moon'. The last stallion was a brillant palomino named Qudamah, meaning 'couragous'. Qudamah remained fairly clam through-out the storm, as if he knew there would soon be a chance for escape.
Indeed there was. The storm was furious and raging, the ship hadn't a chance. About a few moments, it slowly began to crack, spinning around, collading with coral and larger waves. The horses instead the ship were going positivily mad. Abbas had already torn down the door to his stall, and was in the process of breaking open the stalls of his favorite mares. Two other mares were almost out of their stalls, and the two other stallions were slowly working their doors' from their hinges. Before long, the three stallions were loose, Abbas breaking the other stalls with powerful blows, Badr persuading his mares to break them open himself, and Qudamah opening the latches on the doors to avoid any injuries. The boat was filling quickly, and one of the three foals was already lieing unmoving on the lower decks' floor. Abbas shoved her up the stairwell, as the other stallions persuaded their own herums up to safety.
The twenty five horses swam across the sea, trying their best to stay afloat, and loosing another foal along the way. Abbas pushed his mares harder and further then the others, forcing them to keep going, even after their strength was spent, and their were running off pure stamina. As land came into sight, Abbas pointed his band towards the eerier, dark point of the island which was bathed in an unending night, Badrwent towards the middle, where the land was a mix of night and day, and Qudamah towards the oppisite end, where the land was soothing and showed an unending brightness.
The three stallions had held no contact for the first month of living on the island, each ones' herds' regaining strength, and adjusting to the island life. A few were lost within the great mounds of sands, but most packed together if they went to do anything, to avoid becoming lost. After the first month, Abbas became greedy for more land and mares, frequently challenging the other stallions. Soon, Abbas held nearly all the mares of the island in his band. It wasn't long untill Badr and Qudamah teamed up on him. He should have seen it coming right? Wrong. Abbas had begun to believe he was the most powerful stallion, which he was, so he never worried about attack. Badr and Qudamah had snuck up on him, althrough it wasn't hard, Abbas was to busy readying himself to breed with yet another mare to pay any attention to anything else. Badr was the first to make a move.
It was the first of the many fights between the nobles that would arise. Light and Neutral banded againest dark, neutral and dark banded againest light. Or just the typical light verus dark. On the day of the first battle, Abbas was killed. Badr and Qudamah reclaimed their mares and returned home, Abbas's mares refusing to join them and staying in their dead leaders' land. Through all of this, a single mare by the name of Sitka was carrying Abbas's last colt. She was a dark hearted bitch, a grulla in coloring, with black orbs. She had been Abbas's lead, so she was now the leader of the herd, and when her colt was born, a stallion as black as his father by the name of Aro, she made positive he would be fit for the leading postion. She began his training when he was three months, teaching him fighting moves and battle techniques. By the time he was a yearling, he was a far better fighter then even his mother, who had been the best fighter of the land, only second to Abbas.
When Aro was three, he took over the herd, and gathered a few from the other herds. His mother remained in the lead postion, untill he could find a lead of his own. The rising of the darks had begun.
Not to forget Badr and Qudamah, both of whom died of old age, and now, their own son's rule their thrones. The son of Badr is a short, sturdy chestnut stallion named Shahin. And to Qudaham's last colt was a tall, lanky grey named Tammam.'
Now, you will be the one to decide what happens to these herds, will the darks complete their rising? Or will the lights and neutrals be enough to stop Aro and his band of renegades?
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