Say what you need to say... ( oPeN )

[janoah]

"Walking like a one man army

Fighting with the shadows in your head

Living out the same old moment

Knowing you'd be better off instead,

If you could only . . ."

Vaurien
{{ Friesian ;; 15.1HH ;; Two + 1/4 Yrs. }}

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Over the hill, down the dip, up the hill, through the stream, past the mountain, around the forest, cross the meadow, to the field...

So it went.

Until each one, each horse, each slave, had reached their final checkpoint- Horse Head Field. Their final destination. Perhaps even their destruction.

"G'up! Hurry! Gee up!"

Hoarse voices tried to rise up and over the din of the many pounding hooves, the ragged breaths and the screams and yells of the herd of slaves they drove relentlessly. A full bodied mix of mares, stallions, fillies and colts and yearlings. Each one was either fit and riled up to complain, or worn out and too tired to complain, or weak and too scared to complain.

"Hurry up you lot!"

"We've got to get there today!"

"G'up! G'up! G'up!"

"Good, Whoa! We're here!"

They all shouted and offered no encouragement, only insults, and threats.

Feet were feathered nicely, tail held a bounce of health, forelock was abundant and long, so was the mane, eyes were bright and held a rebellious glint, hide marred only by blemishes that he had earned properly, none had been given by poor judgment. Holding a fair amount of muscles that would persuade others from trying to grind him into the dirt, though no other backup than the looks. You could tell that mind was stronger than matter, though mind yearned to grasp the knowledge of how to handle matter. Hide was a brilliant Chestnut, gleaming under what weak sun dared show its face on such a parade. Shimmering coppery gold and flaunting itself despite that it's owner wanted only to slink into the background and never be seen again. The only problem, if you could call it that, with this picture was that- the breed was of Friesian descent. Possessing not one drop of sooty, hellish, inky, shadowy, brackish black on himself.

Himself, was of course a chestnut Friesian that lacked the ability to blend in with a herd of his own kind, for that reason he had been banished from his family and dropped down the to status of a Slave. After having been raised like a Master for a whole year.

His name was Vaurien.

A French name hand picked by his parents.

A name that literally meant- 'good-for-nothing'.

Stallion tossed his head, sending his forelock off to the side, thus clearing his vision. His good nature had been pressed to its limit, and now he felt ready to snap out at somebody.

The Herders, about seven or ten in total, drove their heard, about twenty or thirty head into the Field, causing an uproar as they pushed aside other Masters and slaves for themselves to get through. Three or four Herders dove into the great herd and set themselves to the task of separating the stallions from the mares and the fillies from the colts.

About midway through, they came to the Chestnut. He went along willing enough and they gave him a wide berth, none called his tough-guy bluff. He had learned it from his Sire, whom had been a tough guy through and through, taking no orders from the more submissive kind.

He kindly enough stepped into a pen with two other stallions, one whom was pure white save for the grit and mud that had been kicked up from the many hooves and splashed onto him; the other remained a shaggy bay, who was somewhat cleaner than the first. Each one of the three stallions looked gaunt and travel worn, they felt like it too. Like some piece of trash that had been stepped on multiple times before getting blown onto the street to get run over a couple of times, then caught on a fence before anybody really took any notice of it- only to throw it away into a trash bin.

Vaurien idled his time away in the middle of the pen, the white remained near the back and the bay up at the front, trying to look somewhat presentable to be chosen for a Slave. Chestnut ears flickered as he caught a one sided conversation from a pen not too far away, it held a couple of mares, all fairly aged. Stallion snorted and looked elsewhere, only to have his forelock come down and further block his vision. A well pent-up sigh escaped his lips and he stood, idling his time away with eyes semi-closed from weariness and in hopes of catching snatches of sleep before a Master picked him out from the rest. He didn't fancy that happening so soon after they were driven in- for he did not not want it to happen either.

Nostrils flared out and he felt himself slipping away into the inevitable grasp of sleep, ears lost their attentive twitching and their movements slowed as did his breathing.

He quickly regained his self awareness when the bay stallion was taken out and around a corner where something awful happened, and the white stallion was taken somewhere off to a new home to be a broken-back slave.

Vaurien snorted and circled the pen, feeling within himself the urge to jump it, which he thought he could easily do, and run until he could run no more and live his life as best he could alone and happy. Attention was brought over to some hellish hellions talking and staring lustfully at some young virgin fillies. A spark of hell-fire was raised and travel-worn brujo could not help but raise his head at such a thing and shout out at them, slowly and as if he held the rank of Master, "Oi! You bastards!"

He whistled shrilly at them, trying to catch their short span of attention. Two of the stallions tore themselves slowly away from the terrified fillies, Vaurien added more, "You shouldn't let your minds wander- They're far too small to be let out on their own."

At least one of the fillies gave a small giggle, but then soon regretted it as she was shot a dirty, lust-filled glare. The two Masters pranced over to the rejected Chestnut, full of fury and glee that they could beat on one slave, for they finally had a good reason. Vaurien began to feel his bravery waver, "I bet you guys don't even know the meaning of 'fear'... But then again you probably don't know the meaning of most words. Do you?"

A couple of minutes later, Vaurien found himself nursing a severely bruised shoulder and hip, a scrap of skin had been skinned from his back and a chunk of his muzzle had been taken from him- thus giving him the look of a constant evil grimace or smirk. The Master, between the two of them, had left with a couple of bruises and one had a definite limp from a good strike on a joint.

It was easy to tell who had won the battle, and who had the war.

Travel weary and travel worn and not up for any more jostling with a rude crowd, nor wanting to shout out at any more bastards, Vaurien locked his knees and allowed his mind to wander freely- oddly enough, down memory lane. Where he had been loved and happy at one time.

The joy of being a Master...

The hatred of being a slave...

He had had the chance to get both of their view points, what he had gained in knowledge he didn't want to share with others.

With that in his mind, he lost consciousness as sleep and pain took hold of him in the grimy cold of the Horse Head Field. Ah, so this is what it felt like to be loved by your family...
[/blockquote]~Largely editted~[/blockquote][/size]

[Bengal Brat]

Preston
Slavery doesn't suit you...

Preston pranced proudly into Horse Head Fields, a section cut off for equines at Auction Rock. Head and tail were held high, eyes glinting with great-good humor. The stallion gave off the same air as any other; he had to if he didn't want to be challenged. Fighting never was his thing, and he didn't want to find out if he would ever come up with the courage enough to do it in order to save a slave from a horrible life. He was here on a mission: to rescue at least one horse from dying the life of a slave. Suddenly, a loud neigh met his auds. Preston whirled just in time to hear a brave-faced chestnut stallion throwing insults at a pair of stags, who were looking lustfully at a group of virgin mares.

"Oi! You bastards! You shouldn't let your minds wander- They're far too small to be let out on their own. I bet you guys don't even know the meaning of 'fear'... But then again you probably don't know the meaning of most words. Do you?"

Tony couldn't help but chuckle quietly to himself as he approached the one who had spoken out. However, his humor instantly came to an abrupt halt as the offending stallion masters did what they did best, and beat the stag the color of copper to pulp. Well, almost to pulp; the slave fought well, giving those who were trying to break him some injuries to think about. A chunk of his muzzle had been lost forever from his fight, but the he-slave still seemed unfazed. Preston liked that in a horse; without any hesitation whatsoever, he trotted forward until he was standing outside of the wooden fence. Then, he spoke directly to the wounded brujo.

"The life of a slave just isn't for you; I like how you stood up for those mares, even though the odds were against you. That's the sign of a true horse. Come, tell me your name, and we can get back to Zephyr. I'm sure you'll like what you find."

...but I know what will

ooc: how about Preston/Tony makes him his beta? Vaurien has the makings of a good ruler instead of a lowly slave. also, I'm so sorry about my post, especially it's suckiness, after all that you typed. They'll get better--I promise.

[janoah]

Vaurien

Vaurien sighed to himself, thinking of how nobody ever really called his bluff. His guess was that it was his breed. Friesian. Who ever knew of a nice, friendly sort-of-cowardly Friesian? He certainly didn't know of any. Who knew of a regal, snooty bad-ass Friesian? He could name a lot...

Sleep was justly rewarded- then unjustly taken away when a kind voice rang out, bringing the slave back from memory lane and ponderous questions about himself.

"The life of a slave just isn't for you; I like how you stood up for those mares, even though the odds were against you. That's the sign of a true horse. Come, tell me your name, and we can get back to Zephyr. I'm sure you'll like what you find."

He blinked away what sleep had collected in his eyes, not much, then raised his head stiffly. Squinting he caught sight of a boldly painted stallion, just around his own height, standing just outside of his pen.

"It's not?"

All his life he had been told he would never be more than a slave, by his sire, dam, family, friends, his birth herd...

Vaurien blinked again and quickly answered the stranger, who spoke of a land that seemed to him like it would be just and fair and run properly.

"I just didn't like the way they were looking at them... It seemed wrong." He twitched his ears around, listening then looked around. The Masters had left, and a few of the young mares were missing from the pen. Tail twitched with a sudden jolt of anger. Looking back toward the painted fellow, he added- "Vaurien, I'm known as Vaurien."

Vaurien shook himself from what sleep still clung to him lazily and he maneuvered closer to the gate at the name of the stallion's homeland. Zephyr. His muzzle was beginning to throb with the new demands placed on it to allow himself to talk, he ignored it with the possibility at hand. "I'd be more than willing to go with you! But first, if I can, may I ask your name? Also, not meaning to be rude, you don't seem like a Master to me... Are you?"

Every Master he had met had been cruel, rude, and vile. All nearly common traits to find in a beast that was truly a Master at heart. Vaurien had learned from his sire and had had a sneak peek into the lives of Masters until he was a Yearling. Then he had been gruffly booted out of the family, herd and had taken up the position of a slave. He looked up at the paint, he smiled a small smile. They both seemed to stick out in the drib and drab place of Horse Head Fields. Him a shiny copper, and the other a fashionable mix of colors.

Copper penny stud shifted his weight, nervous and eager to see if it could be true to live under a kind Master. It seemed almost unheard of. At any sign from his newfound companion, at the opening of his gate, Vaurien would follow dutifully after him, his stance that of proud and regal Friesian, despite his clashing color.

OOC;; Your post wasn't sucky- It was good! No need to apologize! Beta? Cool! ;D Sounds good.

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[Bengal Brat]

Preston
You've more than proved yourself...

Preston ignored the enslaved stallion's question of "It's not?" He had obviously been told time and time again that he was worthless and would live the rest of his life as the scum of the earth; he didn't feel like getting into a debate about that just now. He opened his mouth to speak, but before any lyrics were let loose, the copper colored Friesian continued.

"I just didn't like the way they were looking at them... It seemed wrong."

He was obviously a very modest brute, but Tony didn't mind that at all; in fact, he honestly didn't find any worth in horses who thought that they were always right and in control. If the slave had said something along the lines of "I do it all the time, brute," then he probably would have been left here; the c.cky sort simply did not deserve to roam free, especially in the lands of Sobibor.

Preston dipped his head slightly as the Friesian introduced himself as Vaurien, repeating his name over and over again under his breath until it was stuck in his head. Vaurien moved closer towards the gate, eyes fixed upon Tony's figure the entire time. His next words didn't surprise him as much as it should have.

"I'd be more than willing to go with you! But first, if I can, may I ask your name? Also, not meaning to be rude, you don't seem like a Master to me... Are you?"

Preston shook his head just a little bit, chuckling. He had honestly expected Vaurien to mention something about his caring personality in contrast to most masters.

"My name is Preston. In all honesty, I am not a true master; a master is someone who pushes those lower than them around and uses the fems for their own lustful pleasure. Masters are cruel and cold-hearted, with no idea about the word compassion. I'm different from them; I can't stand to see other equines mistreated, and am determined to rescue as many as I can, should they show that they deserve it. I would prefer Lead Stallion over master, if you please."

His little speech was spoken in deep, rumbling tones, but his eyes were glinting with humor; he was definitely a good-natured stallion, a trait that you never would expect to find during these dark times. Preston padded forward and turned around; a strong blow from one of his hind hooves bashed the lock that held the gate into pieces. The stag pulled the gate open, willing to other stallions in the pen to leave as well with his eyes. When Vaurien exited the muddy enclosure, Preston greeted him with a grin; he was finally able to look his new herd member over. The brute was about his height with hard muscles beneath his coppery pelt. His eyes now glowed with a new light that had not been there before.

"There was one thing that I failed to tell you; I know it's sudden, because we have only just met, but what I have seen pleases me to the fullest extent. I need an unselfish horse with an iron will to succeed ruling beneath me. Vaurien, would you like the position as my Beta?"

...And in such a short span of time

[janoah]

Vaurien

Vaurien saw the slight shake of the head as he asked about his position, immediately thinking he had said something he shouldn't have. Until his ears caught chuckling instead of harsh commanding words to correct him on his personal mistake.

"Preston, pleased to have met you."

He stood properly, squared shoulders and head high enough to seem alert but still lower than that of the newly met Preston's. Ears twitched as he thought he saw Preston's lips moving over and over, Vaurien ducked his head and added, "If you have trouble thinking of my name, it means 'good-for-nothing' in the French tongue." Lip gave a small spasm of a twitch, then he nodded at the deep rumbling words, everyone of them true to their own extent.

"My name is Preston. In all honesty, I am not a true master; a master is someone who pushes those lower than them around and uses the fems for their own lustful pleasure. Masters are cruel and cold-hearted, with no idea about the word compassion. I'm different from them; I can't stand to see other equines mistreated, and am determined to rescue as many as I can, should they show that they deserve it. I would prefer Lead Stallion over master, if you please."

"Lead Stallion. Understood. Shall I call you Preston or Lead Stallion or..? I don't know if I'm wrong, but I believe titles are a very important thing."

Vaurien had taken an immediate shine to Preston, even more now that he was getting to see a little of what went in on inside of his head. He now know his take on Masters and how they treated others and acted while doing it. Not forgetting that he would try his best to safe those who were worth saving in the end. Coppery stallion could not wrap his head around that he was one of those worth saving for a good quality within them.

He backed a quick retreat when Preston turned and struck out at the locked gate, it was shattered and thus was open. Opened further by the rugged paint bloke, Vaurien dipped his head in thanks and quickly ushered his battered and bruised body out, hardly noticing the stiffness that was already settling in. He could help but smile back at the grin which was offered to him, his forelock blocked on of his eyes but it couldn't hide the gleam that shone of new hope and subtle strength.

Friesian felt the mustang's eyes on him, and ducked his head again. True, he owned some muscles under what his coppery hide cloaked, but he did not know how to use it properly. If he was to duel in fisticuffs with anybody. Head raised and eyes peered out from beneath his full forelock, ears readily perked to hear Preston's words.

"There was one thing that I failed to tell you; I know it's sudden, because we have only just met, but what I have seen pleases me to the fullest extent. I need an unselfish horse with an iron will to succeed ruling beneath me. Vaurien, would you like the position as my Beta?"

He had forgotten to tell him something? There was more? As the words came easily to the dual-toned gent', Vaurien was lost for words. From a Master at birth, to slavery once he was a Yearling, and now... Almost three years of age, he was offered the chance of becoming a Beta. Whoa, stop and think for a moment. Words tried to form but nothing was good enough and was all rejected and he drew a blank at the kind stallion's offer.

Finally, he scraped the bottom of the barrel and came out with some words. "I don't know about an iron will.... I can try though."

He grinned sheepishly back at Preston, "You really would like to have me as your Beta? What would you want me to do?" Last few questions were asked as a juvenile lost in the world, his age lost and he had become young and foolish if not lost.

[Bengal Brat]

Preston
C'mon, now...

"If you have trouble thinking of my name, it means 'good-for-nothing' in the French tongue."

The instant that those lyrics escaped between the velvet lips of Vaurien, Preston shot him a puzzled look; why did he have to doubt himself and the things that he could do? Vaurien was capable of anything, should he put his mind to it. However, Tony said nothing as he waited patiently for the stallion's answer to his request. However, it did not come right away.

"Lead Stallion. Understood. Shall I call you Preston or Lead Stallion or..? I don't know if I'm wrong, but I believe titles are a very important thing."

Preston took a moment, thinking over what the former slave had said to him; titles were indeed very important to some horses, but not to him. Well, that wasn't entirely true; he wanted all of those who he rescued from a dreadful life full of pain, suffering, and eventually death alone, to know that he was in charge and not to be threatened. He wouldn't use violence to enforce it, but he would if the situation ever desperately called for it. The title "Lead Stallion" instead of his real name was something Preston simply would not be able to stand hearing for the rest of his life from any horse. Although it may not have seemed like it in his mind, the stallion's answer to the question came within a few heartbeats, as if it had been prepared ahead of time.

"Preston is perfectly fine; titles are too formal. Besides, they're usually used to strike fear into the hearts of any horse's followers so that no one will challenge their authority. Although I don't want anyone to think I don't have some power, I simply could not stand to hear anyone call me Lead Stallion or anything like that."

Although his vocals were deep, they were spoken with a light tone and Tony's eyes twinkled merrily. He was pleased to have finally been able to start down the path towards one of his many dreams; ever since the abduction of his mother so many moons ago, he had been bound and determined to free as many equines from their lives as slaves as he possibly could until the day he died. His main goal in life was really to find his mom, but the chances of that occurring were one in a million; Preston was not one to dwell on something that would probably never happen. He had learned long ago that horrible things happened, and you really can't do anything about it; the only thing that you can do is just go along with the ride. Some things happen for a reason; karma and fate was what brought these two young stallions together.

Vaurien seemed to be at a major loss for words when he finally was able to comprehend what a tremendous offer that Preston had made; the chance to be the Beta of Zephyr was, for now, his, and his alone. The stag looked at the ground for a moment, and then at a pretty bay mare slowly shuffling by in shackles, anxiously awaiting Vaurien's answer. What would he do if he was to reject his offer? Nothing, I suppose. I'm not about to force him to be my Beta if he doesn't want to. Fortunately, it didn't take more than a few moments in time before the chestnut stallion put Preston's suspense to a screeching hault with his next words.

"I don't know about an iron will... but I can try."

The lyrics were instantly followed with a sheepish grin, and Preston let the breath out that he had been holding for some time now; he now knew what Vaurien's answer to his question was going to be. Finally, he put the acceptance into words.

"You really would like to have me as your Beta? What would you want me to do?"

The brute suddenly look as if he was a lost soul, left to wander through the world alone until death finally came to him. Preston looked back at an invisible fly buzzing around his hindquarters; it was all that he could do to keep the alarm from flaring up in his eyes. When he turned around, Vaurien looked normal again, that same shy grin still present on his face. Preston smiled and gave him a quick answer.

"Well, to put it briefly, as my Beta, you would help me to make important decisions that would affect the whole herd should I ever need the assistance. If I ever had to leave fora while and I had no Lead Mare, or she was missing, then you would take over until I was finally able to return. I will have to ask you to travel here many times more, for it's almost impossible to rescue as many slaves as I have envisioned single-hoofed. You'll play the same role as I do here while claiming any slaves that you feel deserve a second chance; unfortunately, I will have to ask you to leave any of those c.cky, self-absorbed equines here; we can't have anyone challenging the stallions who freed them."

His lyrics were calm and clear; whether Vaurien liked the answer that Preston had given him was his choice; it was the truth, and he simply could not change it. The only thing that could be edited in his plan was Vaurien traveling back to Auction Rock if he really felt against it. It would take time, but he would be able to manage on his own if his new companion simply did not feel up to it.

...You're not worthless

[janoah]

Vaurien

Vaurien waited patiently as Preston mulled briefly over the posed question, ears twitched forward and he listened intently.

"Preston is perfectly fine; titles are too formal. Besides, they're usually used to strike fear into the hearts of any horse's followers so that no one will challenge their authority. Although I don't want anyone to think I don't have some power, I simply could not stand to hear anyone call me Lead Stallion or anything like that."

Shaggy copper head gave a nod and he shuffled his feet, "Preston it is, sorry had I offended you." He gave a smile as he caught the light tone of the mustang.

Every bit that had been drilled into his mind was currently at war with what Preston was telling him. The year-old Master within him tried to bargain with all of the things that his Sire and Dam and family and herd had drilled into his mind, ever since he hadn't taken the color of the inky blackness that ruled over the Friesian breed like a dark ominous cloud, that promised nothing good to come. The short-lived, a little bit older than the Master, slave within him yelled that he should remain as polite as ever, never tread on any toes, try to keep his head low and back hunched and quail under the slightly look or the softest word.

Vaurien felt poor as he noticed that he had keep Preston guessing as if he would turn down such a marvelous offer that had been generously given. A quick answer was given to his innocent and lost questions.

"Well, to put it briefly, as my Beta, you would help me to make important decisions that would affect the whole herd should I ever need the assistance. If I ever had to leave fora while and I had no Lead Mare, or she was missing, then you would take over until I was finally able to return. I will have to ask you to travel here many times more, for it's almost impossible to rescue as many slaves as I have envisioned single-hoofed. You'll play the same role as I do here while claiming any slaves that you feel deserve a second chance; unfortunately, I will have to ask you to leave any of those c.cky, self-absorbed equines here; we can't have anyone challenging the stallions who freed them."

[/i]

Immediate words came from the oddly colored stud, "I'd get to help others be free of slavery?" These words struck him more deeply than anything else Preston had said, and he gave a firm nod of his head. "I accept, Preston. I shall tr- I shall be your Beta." Head raised to it's full height, ears pricked attentively and his darn forelock near hiding half of his face, and he almost struck the normal regal poise of his shadowy breed.

Vaurien didn't know if he could come waltzing back to Auction Rock like Preston had come in and sweep a slave off his or her feet and take them away from the dread and devilry that haunted their lives and the place they had been dumped. Then again, he didn't expect Preston to take him to his home then turn him around again and march him right back to Auction Rock either. Nostrils flared and he squared himself up. It felt good to stand as he normally should, muscles not shrunken and his back hunched or his size pulled in with great practiced skill.

"Shall we head to your homelands? ... I'm eager to see them." He smiled and almost danced impatiently in spot. It felt slightly odd, if not weird, to be himself. Not pretending. They haven't even moved from outside of the pen! Wow, what life could throw at you... It was sure something else.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/color]

[Bengal Brat]

ooc: why don't you make the post in Zephyr? My muse at this precise moment is very low, so I'm off to find it.