unbent unbroken unrivaled

Anarchy test-drive

POSTED: Fri Dec 02, 2016 8:18 am

No idea where this monster came from. And I mean the post and the character, but here they are, meet Anarchy the hell horse. Four chars aren't enough, of course not, my muse always needs m o r e! Fifth planned character, here I come~

Bare hooves thundered across the grassy plains, surefooted and unrelenting, the steady and labored breaths of the fierce creature coming in puffs like a racing steam locomotive, although the comparison would be lost on the animal. It raced the open field without hesitation and fear of anything or anyone, a fearsome flair of reddish chestnut hair on its neck and tail, like hellish flames in the wind. The red roan stallion was an awesome sight, a red devil passing across the lands.

He only stopped on the edges of a small stream, coming to it on a snaking trot before dipping his head for a drink, blood pumping through his whole body and making him flare with heat and exercion in a pleasantly familiar way. He could feel the excess, eager energy drain from him as his body cooled, and the drive to run for the pelasure of it left him easily as it came. The stallion had always been a wandering spirit, and had come across some herds on occasion and taken them from whatever lead male they had been following before with ease. Horses didn't kill each other for territory and breeding rights; that's a thing for predators and their ilk.

Despite his impressive sucess against any rivals he faced, the stallion still always got in some sort of trouble that tore him from whatever herd he took up. Too many different situations for him to list inside his mind right now, but on always stood out to him. Wolves. Always wolves, especially those that walked on two legs, and rode on the backs of other horses sometimes. Coming with their ropes and head-binds, trying to take away his mares, or even himself. The memories made him bow up his head and toss it a few times, snorting in anger like a vicious growling monster. His hooves dug into the moist dirt of the waterside, and it reminded of the few times he managed to face off those two-legged fiends and strike his hooves against a head or a chest, feeling the flesh and bone break beneath his strength, and how the thrill of sucess rocked him to his core. Nothing felt quite like winning against those villains. Not even when he managed to punt that cougar high into the air with a well-placed kick, and it didn't get up after.

A shift in the wind brought a bitter scent that only riled up those memories in his mind. Head and tail standing high in attention and aggression, he saw it, far in the distance. Two two-legged canines, perched on the backs of a mare and a non-male. The wind carried their voices well enough, but as always it was a grating, annoying rubbish to him. An anger flared in his throat and chest, growing and growing until it came out in a loud, dreadful squeal. The four creatures stopped, catching sight of him and watching form afar. He pranced away from the river, bucking and kicking against the air, bowing up his head in a clear challenge. This wasn't his territory, there no herd to protect or claim, but he couldn't help standing up for it. How dare they even exist anywhere near him?!

Something must have been wrong, because they weren't leaving, but moving closer. Couldn't his meaning be clearer? They were supposed to leave! And yet, here they were, forcing their rides closer in a gallop. Oh, this wouldn't stand. Dark blue eyes grew wide and furious, the pale roan took up the challenge and stood his ground, only snaking closer in a prance and they didn't stop or slow down. Fine. He'd kick their legs off if need be. Already he could see them swing their ropes at him. They had to be joking.

With a snort and neigh, he thundered forth, head low and ears pinned back, mouth open and ready to bite at whatever came within reach of his teeth. The other horses pinned their own ears back and tried to pull against their mouth-ropes, tried to get away from him, knowing they weren't up to the challenge he posed them. As soon as the wild dun cut into their drawline, their reared up and back, wanting to run away from him give in to his pressure, but the wolves didn't let them. The stupid creatures didn't understand what they were getting into. So he didn't stop, not for a second, and went to trample the first to reach him, the non-male with its pale wolf rider. The wolf barely had time to keep himself on top of the saddle when the devilish horse reared up and aimed at a shoulder. The other horse turned on its heel and kicked at his chest, but he had taken worse hits. Teeth clamped down on a fuzzy arm, the yelp and scream the wolf made a reward of its own. He didn't let go, and as the non-male horse stampeded away in a fright, he left his rider still locked on the mustang's chompers. The wrathful horse only let go when he felt claws scratching at his muzzle, frantically trying to pry his jaws open. Too bad the wolf went beneath his racing hooves after he dropped on the grass.

Uncaring of the pale two-legged's fate, he turned to face the mare and her rider. He tossed his head and striked the air with a kick, another warning. Leave, or I'l make you leave too. The mare backed away from him with a lowered head and pinned ears, catching the message and being smart about her situation. Her rider, not so much, whipping the air with a rope to try and get him away from his fellow wolf. Too bad the hellish horse knew strike of a whip well, had suffered them on occasion before, and now he ahd only a deep hatred and disgust for the things. They should have just turned tails and ran, now he was going to give them hell for daring to bring out such a wretched thing in front of him.

The mare spun, showing the business end and bracing to kick him, and he went around to her side. She followed his movements, squealing in fear and distress, but he was unrelenting trying to get to the wolf at her back. His teeth found her rump instead, and he got a kick for his trouble. When she tried to run away, her rider tried to stir her back around, but the foolish creature had turned his attention to the reluctant horse between his legs, and not the still charging stallion. That earned him a bite to the thigh. Another screech of pain that made the mare startle and buck on instinct. Unbalanced as he was, the rider didn't stay long in the saddle, and barely managed to strike out the improvised whip at the stallion's face to try and get him to let go. It had the opposite effect, and he clamped harder against the meaty leg, breaking skin and making him bleed. More screaming of pain, and his hooves were thumping down on the smaller predator, and soon it gave up the fight. Maybe the pain drained him and sent him into a paralyzed trance, maybe he fainted, maybe he died. The stallion didn't care; he just let go.

Still, adrenaline was high in his blood, the previous run now futile because all that restless energy was flaring in his body again. So he bucked and kicked and neighed and snaked, neighing and snorting his victory as the two other horses raced off in a crazy dash. Anywhere was better than near the wrathful demon that was the fiery roan steed.

The flaming devil was about to trot away from the scene of the crime, with a proud spring in his step, when he heard a grona and yelp. Ears alert and tail swishing behind him, he went to investigate. The first wolf to fall, the pale one, was whimpering in the ground, clutching the blood-stained arm close to himself and shaking in pain. The stallion snorted and watched it for a few moments when their eyes met. For long moment, nothing happened, save the wolf's labored breaths and his flagging tail. Again, those nonsensical sounds came from the wolf, but he knew a bitter and pained voice when he heard it. Tossing his head, he snaked close and thumped his hooves, letting thems trike the body in the ground to get it move. The instinctive drive to make another move away at the pressure of his presence was his reason, and the wolf indeed scrambled away from him in a fearful gasp and sob. It was enough for him. The stallion backed away and walked away. Ignored the nonsensical babbles that were thrown his way, they meant nothing anyways.

Again, the hellish creature went away in a racing thunder across the plains, brushing aside the happening save the bruised pangs of pain at his chest and snout, and the anger for the mere existence of those vile beats, those two-legged fiends. It drove him forward, always faster, always pushing, hungry for the open freedom of the world around him, and for what the next moment might bring him.
Tzila Napier

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