Of Mounts and Riders (IrishWolf & Somnifera)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: IrishWolf on 24-12-2015, 04:26:06</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Of Mounts and Riders (IrishWolf &amp; Somnifera) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>IrishWolf</strong> on <strong>24-12-2015, 04:26:06</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://blog.turkishairlines.com/webdocs/980x430xcxcx14/cdn/destinations/dubrovnik/images/re54-1435-03bd-fc47-3282-7979.jpg)</div><br>Aleksei (https://new3.fjcdn.com/comments/Reverse+mohawk+or+you+_3194788886f6d35d79b103b1fb0c8c7c.jpg) slumped, as he half leaned and half collapsed against the almost painfully white stucco wall, of one of the buildings surrounding the last of the three great open aired bazaars of Dakusk. The midday sun beat down overhead, as if the baleful orb meant to cook the six foot northern visitor, to the booming trade city. He had been soaked with sweat, ever since he had taken to the road that morning but now, it felt like he had rivers running down from his scalp, which was covered in a blond fuzz of long stubble, save for a single lock, which was now plastered against his temple. Even his mustache seemed to drupe, withered from the heat and ready to die. Exhaustion gripped his limbs, save where the salt from his sweat made the semi-held cuts along his sides and arms, burn. <br><br>The normally loose white shirt he wore, felt like it was damply constricting around his torso and when he opened his blue eyes and glanced down, he noticed the slight, pinking stain starting to form on his left side. One of the gashes there must have reopened. A sigh escaped, stirring the mustache, as he stood up again. Reaching down, he snatched up the cased bow and quiver of arrows he had been carrying and slung them over his left shoulder before settling leather saddlebags over the same. With one last effort, he picked up a large box of wood, bound with iron and held it to his chest with his left hand, using his forearm to steady the saddlebags.&nbsp; He had to keep his right hand free, incase he need to draw the shashka from it’s carved and painted wooden scabbard, at his hip. <br><br>With a resigned grunt, he scanned the marketplace again, hoping that he had simply missed what he sought. Ever since he had trudged into the city, he had raced from market to market, looking for some of The People. Of course, there were people in the city, of all races and types, eager to sell and barter but there were none of The People, which was course were his own race, the Suvorovains, The Dog Riders, the nomads with a homeland. But none of his own kind were here. No one he might beg for aid, for he was a dog rider, without a pack of giant dogs, which were bound to his kind. <br><br>His pack was dead, slain on the road, when the kinsfolk of the latest bounty he intended to collect, caught up to him. It had been a fight for the histories, one man and five of his fur brothers, verse a dozen and half. It had been close, all the dogs dead and only four of the foe escaping alive, if on lamed horses. But now he had no mounts but his soul burned for vengeance. He had followed the rough and barely there road down from the hills, hoping to find city and he had. What was better, it was a trade port and he had hoped to find a band of the People there, come to trade in the Ice Wines of home or some other goods. But his hopes were in vain. <br><br>If he was to catch his foes, for revenge and to keep them from being more of their family after him, he would have to rent or buy a horse. Stupid beasts, the lot of them and always trying to stamp on his feet. Of course, he could have tried the strange animals the silk merchants rode, the one with long necks and lumps upon their backs but those smelled worse and he had never seen them move faster than a plod. It would have to be a horse, by the Pit, Gods of the Four Winds save him. <br><br>Aleksei trudged through the crowds, using his shoulder to push through the mobs gathered around each stall, until he could smell the stables and the masses thinned. He was just about to walk into the first one he saw, when a large square of parchment caught his attention. Painted broadly upon it was a centaur and written in the trade tongue, which he could read and write, along with speak, was an advertisement for renting the beasts. He paused, studying the thing. He hadn’t considered a centaur before and those were only half horse. Maybe one would be better the kind of beast he had been steeling himself to riding.<br><br>Thanking the North Wind, he snatched the parchment and marched down the row of stables, glancing at each sign, until he matched one with the symbol on the advertisement he carried. Smiling grimly, he threw open the door and swept in like a gale, his boots pounding on the floor and the wooden scabbed slapping against his hip. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Mounts and Riders (IrishWolf &amp; Somnifera) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Somnifera</strong> on <strong>24-12-2015, 05:46:38</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://i.imgur.com/LkWHUwY.jpg)</div><br>There were plenty of smells in a place like Dakusk. Toasted grains, aging rope, fish, salt, sweat, tea, and the constant battle between dung and sweets that turned each time the wind did. The narrow, winding streets were choked with streams of people rushing about for tonight's bread, dock bargains, or a seat in a teahouse before the sun exhausted them. The stones of all the streets were worn and smooth, and in some places had been long broken apart and dissolved into the sands beneath them so much so that it was hard to tell if some of the streets had ever been paved. It was not that there was not wealth in this town- one look at the port would tell you as much. It was just that, well...it wasn't the <em>richest</em> place.<br><br>That being said, it was certainly not out of time. One could find fabrics dyed in the Tyrian purple that had become all the range in Gnosia, or buy crates of bloodwood incense shipped from across the sea- the type that had nearly doubled in price the moment traders managed to ship it to far coasts. There were animals, slaves, and fashions to be bought and swapped and bartered for, and so it was that the livery barns here had not only practical beasts like ponies and bactrians, but more trendy creatures like centaurs, descended from the line once owned by that fallen King Orelus.<br><br>To be fair, only <em>one</em> stable was currently renting out such a creature. Than always kept a sign up at the crossroads because centaurs were flashy things and rich people on trade expeditions so lived to ride about on something flashy. In town the creature's superior footing didn't even come into play- it seemed like they paid just to have all eyes on them as they rode, even if they were short or furtive glances. ...That being the case, Than saw it as foolish <em>not</em> to raise the rental fee on such a luxury steed.<br><br>Past the warm, acrid aroma of a coffee shop the stable loomed, differentiated from the other bright white buildings by a sunbleached sign with a bridle betwixt two ears of wheat- the same symbol stamped on the bottom of the flyer. Below that was a recessed door with a few crooked steps decorated with glass mosaic work- some of the pieces were missing and one of them likely popped out of place beneath Aleksei's boot. In a cramped space lit by a few high windows covered with cloth stood a counter and a tall, lean boy with dark brown hair, olive skin, and bright blue eyes.<br><br>Understandably, he looked <em>shocked.</em> "Oya!" His eyes boggled at this weapons-heaped man, not so much because of them but because of the sheer weight of what he carried, and the intensity pouring from him. "What do you need? Bactrian? Pack horses?"<br><br><em>"Abban! How many? Who is it?"</em> A voice called from the back, a woman. Footsteps were heard as another face came through the splitting curtain behind the counter and took in the fair man. She was a broad woman, her hair done up in two large knots behind her ears. She looked Aleksei up and down and settled a neutral gaze on him and gestured with her chin at the paper the traveler was holding. "The centaur, yeh? Full fee up front, double on return if she comes back lame." Than flicked her pale blues over that sweaty face once more. This man didn't seem like the type to rent her golden girl at all...She didn't feel like wasting time bartering. He'd either pay the price or he wouldn't. "Twenty aug a day or sixty aug a week. How long?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Mounts and Riders (IrishWolf &amp; Somnifera) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>IrishWolf</strong> on <strong>25-12-2015, 02:08:57</strong>
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				Had Aleksei not spent three days marching through the heat to the coastal city, his heart filled with grief and rage, the reaction of the boy behind the counter of the stable, would have been most amusing. Normally, he would have teased the youth, maybe acted like the uncouth barbarian, those who had never interacted much with the People, thought his kind were. Of course, he could have frightened the boy by opening the box he carried and showing him the bounty he was planning on collecting. Not many reacted well to opening a box, only to find an unexpected head, packed in salt. <br><br>However, the Northern was worn and tired, thus easily annoyed. What sort of fool thought he was here for a damned horse or what the in the Pit a bactrian was, when he was clearly holding a poster for a centaur? Scathing words formed on his tongue but before they could escape his lips, a woman appeared, her hair oddly styled but plain someone of sense. he didn’t ask him what he was here for but simply looked him over and somehow divined he was here for a centaur. It was as if she could read the stable’s own advertising posters, a miracle for sure, if her underling was any example of the people native Dakusk.<br><br>The bounty hunter almost smiled, as the woman laid out her price for the beast he wished to at least rent, with no room for bargaining. Up front and blunt, so different that the numberly voices he had been forced to listen to, as he scoured the market places, looking for his own people. Although it did make him pause and consider, for just how long would he need a mount? If he remember the maps of the region he had looked at, before starting this hunt, his foes would be heading for a pass through the mountains to the northeast. He could make it there in a week, just days ahead of the the four he was to kill, if he left the road and cut through bad country, known to have at least a few bandit bands, if not worse lurking there.Then from&nbsp; the pass, it would be at least three weeks to Çukugaç, where the city’s governor waited to pay the bounty. At another two weeks to return, if he didn’t stop for a day or two.<br><br>“Three fortnights” grunted Aleksei, his trade sounding rough and almost rude. Letting the pair stare at him, for the length of time he wanted the centaur for, the tall man stepped up the counter and set the box, with it’s iron bands down with thud. Reaching up, he thrust his right hand into the lacings at the front of his shirt and pulled out a bulging purse. Without even looking, he loosened the string and dumped it out on the counter, the air suddenly filled with the music of clinking coins. Fat silver coins danced among spinning smaller ones and several of the smaller gold coins, to be found in the region. it was a wide mix of nations, who had minted the money but it was the weight he cared about. <br><br>It was ironic to tell the truth. Most of the coins he had on him, he had looted from the fourteen men left dead, when their four surviving kinsfolk fled and now he was going to spend them, to hunt down the last survivors. The rest of his wealth and he wasn’t that bad off, was in the form of letters from money lenders. The only annoyance, keeping his money like that was, every region or so he traveled through, he had to get new letters. If no one had ever heard of the money lender, who he had a letter of credit from, the paper was worthless. So he had to keep trading letters, with some other money lender, who knew the first one. <br><br>“I see the beast first” grunted the bounty hunter, placing his hand over the pile of coins, before the woman or the stupid boy, could reach for them.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Mounts and Riders (IrishWolf &amp; Somnifera) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Somnifera</strong> on <strong>25-12-2015, 03:18:01</strong>
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				It would never be said that Abban was known for keeping his wits when he was shocked. Even as the foreigner paused to consider her offer, Than ushered the boy out with a sharp hiss and a swat before setting her hands on her hips again. This was an odd renter, for sure. Normally it was the foreigners from off the boats who wanted something to ride as they traded for silkmaking supplies and exotic keepsakes who came in asking for the centaur, since she was fancier than a horse and less bothersome than a camel. This man looked like he needed a trail pony...but depending on where he was going, one of those shaggy plodding things may have been no good...and it looked like he was headed somewhere <em>very</em> specific.<br><br>It was then that Than began to worry. As the coins spilled out, her focus intensified, but the general lust for money one might expect to see with such a display was nowhere to be found. This looked like a rough-riding man who might get into some trouble. Trouble on horseback often found the horse before the rider. If this man ruined her golden girl...By the time the coins had all slid to a halt on the wooden counter, the woman's brow had furrowed and she looked up at him slowly, her pale blues peering judgmentally from her tanned face. Three fortnights? It would feed their stables for weeks, yet it was such an unusual stint that the woman's misgivings persisted even stronger, now. She pursed her lips as she ran her tongue over the dry roof of her mouth, and eventually nodded. "Abban! G'da elli impat!" Her voice bellowed so well she didn't bother to shout ahead down the hall where the boy surely was. She beckoned him with a workworn hand and lead him past the counter, through the curtain, along a second hall to a door and into a wider open-air hall that lead to the stables.<br><br>The space itself had a slightly thick feel to the still air, perfumed as it was with alfalfa's sticky-yet-dry sweetness and the faint smell of waste from somewhere nearby. One or two long equine heads peeked out over their stall doors, but the center of attention would likely be the beast Abban was leading into the center of the sandy ring on the other end of the barn. <br><br>It was, to be brief, a golden horse with a woman's body where the head would be. Just as promised in the drawing, but much grander in person. However, her details told their own story. The creature trotted behind the boy on energetic and somewhat feisty steps, swishing her long black tail nonstop. She was leggy to be sure, sleek of limb with a narrow yet deep chest made for running. Abban looked to his mother, who nodded, and began to lead her around the perimeter of the space, letting out the lead as he spurred her into a trot with a flick of a whip. With black-tipped limbs the beast moved in circles, body gleaming like polished bronze. Truly, it was a rare quality, this light that came from her coat. The equine body was to other horses what a cheetah was to a lion. Above that stood a proud female form, athletic and deeply tan of skin, with a lean body and arms bound behind her back. There was a simple halter on her face and a sort of netting covering her eyes, so that only her bit-stretched mouth and prominent nose could be seen. Abban held two leads- one of which was a gold chain loosely gripped, that ran and forked to two bits of gold at the creature's nipples. Her breasts were broad yet shallow; less the peak'ed tips of pubescence and more the modesty of nature wherein a creature that ran quite so much was concerned. The other lead seemed attached, through wrapping and braiding, to thick portions of her hair on either side of her head. The rest of it was done up in a ponytail, and it swung proudly as the beast trotted.<br><br>And as she came around the ring the second time, the mare turned and looked her prospective renter in the eye. It was but for a moment, but she decided with a grunt and a heave in pace that she did not like him. He looked like he rode heavy with a tight lead and hard hands. Almost out of similar concern, Than lifted her chin and quizzed the blond.<br><br>"Have you ridden one before? ...Where are you going, why do you need one for so long, huh? You're a dog-rider, aren't you?" She gestured to her own crown where his forelock rest on his. "Where are your dogs?"<br><br>She wasn't going to bother even getting the proper gear out for Anat if this man had no idea what he was doing.<br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Mounts and Riders (IrishWolf &amp; Somnifera) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>IrishWolf</strong> on <strong>25-12-2015, 05:50:31</strong>
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				Aleksei met the judgemental stare, when the stable owner looked up from his money, with a flat one of own. He didn’t give a damn what she thought about him, as long as she rented him the beast he wanted. The moment seem to stretch on and on and he was just about to start pushing the coins back into the purse, when she finally nodded at him and yelled something in what he only suspected was the local language. It wasn’t trade and it wasn’t camp, which was a cruder version of trade, used by mercenaries and guards for hire. It rather sounded like what had been used in the towns and villages he had visited, as he tracked down his bounty. <br><br>In any case, he was beckoned to follow and he did so, leaving the box and the money on the counter, although he only did so, after committing the pile of coins to memory. If they came back and someone had taken one or moved them, he would know and he would take his knife to whomever had dared. The dark thoughts about what he would do to anyone who stole from him, faded away, as they entered the stable proper and the all too familiar smell of hay, horse and dung reached him. <br><br>Many times had he been in a stable. Not only had he slept in his share, as a wander will, when he can find no other place to stay but every time he had visited a city, he had brought his pack to such a place. Understandably, most innkeepers didn’t want thousand pound dogs running loose in their establishments and the locals guards didn’t want horse sized predators roaming the streets, no matter how tame they seemed. Of course, the only place he could reasonably keep his pack at such times, were stables. Of course, interacting with horses there, had brought about his dislike of the beasts but he had also thought he knew what a good one looked like. <br><br>And the centaur, the boy lead into the sandy ring in the middle of the stable, looked like a good one. The horse half was sleek and shined with a metallic gleam, which he could only compare to the door of a temple he had once seen, at a long ago dawn, a great portal of polished bronze, catching the first rays of the day. There was a beauty there, that even a Dog Rider, could covet. her human half was exotic to him. Lean as the rest of her was sleek and darker of skin then him, everything about the centaur spoke of speed, which he needed. Of course, the harness, bit, leads and nipple rings, mixed in a healthy dose of eroticism, into his admiring judgement but in his state of exhaustion, such details were tucked away in a part of his mind, no longer awake.<br><br>The ghost of a smile crossed under his mustache, when the creature was brought to a stop and seemed to look at him, through the strange mask over her eyes. There was a grunt and she heaved at the leads. Was he not to her liking or did she just smell of the faint traces of blood, from his travel opened wounds? Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t have the pampered cleanness and a cloying cloud of spiced perfume like a noble or wealthy merchant? Did the stink of days in the heat and the longer musk of dogs offend this creature? <br><br>The smile disappeared quicker than it had arrived though, as the stable owner started asking him questions. There was a look of annoyed acceptance, as he turned to look at the woman, as she began the first three, wanting to know if he could ride and the where and why he was going. However, his face hardened and his eyes flashed with anger and sorrow, when she asked about the dogs. Muscled tightened, as his body prickled into an offensive stance, all but screaming warnings to anyone looking at him, not to ask that question again. <br><br>“I can ride” growled Aleksei, “And I have business to take care of. If you must know, I hunt bandits. The governor of Çukugaç hired me to take care of a gang of them but I only get paid if I kill all of ‘em and bring the leader’s head back. I got fourteen on my first try and I have to chase down the other four.” <br><br>Not the whole truth but it was close enough and she didn’t need to know, that he had been the one hunted down and more men might try to kill him, if he failed to catch the others. Of course, she might be more hesitant to rent him the centaur now, knowing there was danger but maybe he could overwhelm that with greed. Undoing a buckle on the saddlebag slung across his front, he fumbled around inside for a few moments and pulled out several folded pages of parchment. Looking at the inked emblems of the letters of credit, he selected two and slide the rest back into the saddlebag.<br><br>The letters were for nearly the whole sums of the bounties on two highway robbery gangs, he had dealt with, many leagues from this place but the letters gleamed with the gold infused ink, of the great money houses of Çukugaç. They were good here and each worth more than the pile of coins on the counter. He was good at his profession, although that had been with his veteran pack. Four running men, he could handle. <br><br>All but shoving the the letters into the stable owner’s hand, the bounty hunter stepped into the ring and started walking towards the centaur. He wasn’t sure what he was about to do but he did know what he wanted it to look like. Everytime he had seen men or women come to check on their horses, they had always been running their hands over the beasts. They always seemed to check the legs, shoulder, flanks, back and belly. What for, he had no idea but it might make him look like he had an idea of what he was doing. They also seemed to check mouth and eyes but that really wasn’t an option here. <br><br>He approached from the left side. Horses had tried to kick him before, from the front or from the back but never from the side, although she still might be able to stomp on his feet. Shooting the boy a look, commanding him without words to hold the centaur still, he reached out and placed his hand on shoulder of the horse half of the centaur.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Mounts and Riders (IrishWolf &amp; Somnifera) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Somnifera</strong> on <strong>26-12-2015, 04:58:33</strong>
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				Such a posture, this man had as he bristled under the light fire of Than's questions. She set her jaw and inhaled, ready for his temper, and stared aside at him. It wasn't that she was afraid of him.. per se, but goodness, she could see the ire jolt up his spine and twist in his mustache. She regretted the man's presence already, for in matters concerning her golden girl, the rich traders that came asking for her never gave her this much trouble. Suffice it to say, she was second-guessing the possibility of allowing him to rent the centaur, even as he explained why he should be allowed to.<br><br>A bounty hunter? Bold man's work to be sure, but again, trouble tended to find the horse just before the rider, where enemies were concerned, and a man like that had enemies. After all, he admitted to that himself in one way or the other. Had she been hiring him as a guard, the information would have been emboldening. As it was, it was that and nothing more, and seeded just as much confidence as it did doubt. Than shoved her fingers into the sash of her tunic and cut her eyes at him as she faced the ring. However, the woman didn't have time to reorganize her doubts before the crinkle of paper drew her gaze down to the gold ink that gleamed in the sunlight.<br><br>...whether or not one believed his story, they'd be a fool not to believe that <em>money.</em> Than's palm twitched, and a sluggish moment later finally closed around the bills. She had just pulled one from the other to read the inking by the time Aleksei crossed into the sandy ring. Money like this would do them beyond well. It'd fill her pantry and the horse feed and buy the family new clothes, a new wagon, and a crystal carafe if she so desired. Then she could do it again the next week. But his sudden costly desperation made her wonder...<br><br>A heavy and peculiar sort of breathing became louder the closer Aleksei came. The centaur had slowed to a halt at the behest of Abban's tugging hand, and she breathed deeply; the air first drew into her upper lungs and began to overflow down into the latter. It was one long, deep, rippling flow with its own key resonance. By the trick of some rear lead, the boy was keeping the creature's head up and back with the slightest tug. It pulled a slight arch through the centaur's fettered figure and left her faintly taxed ribs ghosting beneath bronzed flesh and polished hide alike. Up close, the adornments at her nipples were rings piercing through them with a second ring attached that held the thinner golden bind. Though she couldn't move far, the centaur started and sidestepped when the dog rider touched her. She'd been watching him from the corners of her half-covered eyes, tall ears pinned back. But aside from that, his touch was suffered to run from her shoulder down the long topline of her back.<br><br>His hand was rough and heavy. It was not the patient searching sweep of the hobbyist rider. This man smelled of sweat and anger. Anat sighed irritably over her bit and cocked her weight away from him with a subtle tilt of one hind leg. She was dense and tight under-hand, with a shoulder somewhat lower than that of a full-equine mare of her 'breed'. A prominent and subtly arched nose flared, dragging in his scent along with those hollow, resonating breaths. <br><br>As if to prove useful again, Abban clucked his tongue twice and stepped in front of the centaur, and she leaned forward until her upper body was almost parallel with her lower. Abban deftly popped her metal bit from her mouth and kept a tighter grip in the braid-reins. "Good gums, see? Good health." He pushed her blinder up to her brow on one side and stretched her eyelid up with a thumb- her eyes were a bright blue ringed in golden brown. Her pupil shrank as she rolled that wide eye to look at Aleksei. Abban let go, put her blinder back, and popped the bit back in. Than cleared her throat.<br><br>"And if you don't return on time, same fee, but double."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Mounts and Riders (IrishWolf &amp; Somnifera) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>IrishWolf</strong> on <strong>26-12-2015, 22:05:16</strong>
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				It was the breathing, which Aleksei noticed, as he first touched the centaur. It was unlike any he had ever heard before, as both pairs of her lungs worked. Deep breathing, as from sleep or some being trying to remaining calm, was well known but it was the rhythm, which his tired mind focused on, as his eyes followed the flow from her human chest, down into the trim equine body. It was almost enough to lull him into letting his eyelids drop, when she tried to shift away from him. The sudden movement of the large creature, who if he had read the signs right, didn’t like him, brought the would be renter, back to full alertness. <br><br>But if he was going to ride this beast, he couldn’t let his normal uncomfortableness around horses, show. Instead, he stepped with her, keeping at the centaur’s side and ran his hand down from her shoulder, to her flank. He could feel the muscle beneath his fingers, just under tight skim. So unlike his riding dogs, with their loose, elastic skins, the better to protect the canines, from the time before they were mounts and bred to watch over roaming herds. The play of the muscles also felt different but that was to be expected.<br><br>The bounty hunter turned his head, when he heard the boy cluck like a chicken and found that he had somehow made the centaur lean forwards. As he watched, the bit was slipped from her mouth, letting the lad show off gums and teeth, neither of which really meant much to him. Again, he had seen people check the mouths of their horses but didn’t know what to look like. So he peered close, as he was shown and nodded, slightly, as if he was agreeing or perhaps confirming his own thoughts, even as he was shown her eyes, clearly for the first time.<br><br>“Agreed” Aleksei grunted, rolling his eyes slightly, before turning to face Than, “She comes with tack?” <br><br>It didn’t really mattered to him, if the centaur had a saddle. He would ride bareback if need be or of the stable owner proved stubborn about the price. He would pay what he needed to for the beast but he wasn’t going to play, if she wanted to try and get more than a reasonable fee. Which should have been covered in the price, she was already asking for rent. He highly doubt that any of the normal customers carried their own saddles but she might try to skin them for the gear, in order to ride the centaur.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Mounts and Riders (IrishWolf &amp; Somnifera) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Somnifera</strong> on <strong>27-12-2015, 04:05:05</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The man was not afraid of her shift, and while she had done it more out of irritation than threat, Anat was slightly disappointed in his continued exploration. But what could she do about it? Abban expected to need to show the man that she was not tender where her bit sat, and thus would not behave strangely under tack nor had she been abused into obedience. But he didn't even care...<br><br>As Than and Aleksei prepared to speak again, Anat straightened and shifted on her feet while the boy pet her lower chest. Her tail hadn't really stopped flicking in the slightest.<br><br>Than squared herself and nodded, forcing herself to be more resolute than she felt. "Mm. She does. Saddle, blanket, harness. Lucerne cakes, too. Same on the tack- comes back damaged, you pay for a new one. Agreed?" Than wasn't entirely sold on this man, but she knew that a centaur like Anat was fast and smart, and it wasn't only rich travelers that could appreciate that in a steed. Whether or not his story was completely believable was irrelevant because she already didn't believe that was all there was to it. A man like that said only one word for every ten thoughts, she knew. What mattered is that his money was good and he wouldn't get her centaur killed.<br><br>Anat was a pretty thing and decently trained. Beast or no, Than didn't want to see her left dead in a field somewhere. A creature like that deserved better.<br><br>The boy, having picked up on the conversation (and disused to the idea that his mother would turn down a renter), tied the centaur to the fence and jogged off to fetch the horse's tack. A couple of minutes later he returned with a richly patterned yet rather sunworn blanket with a low, minimal saddle made from the same tough woven fabric. Anat stood still, habitually patient as she was fitted with her harnessing as she had been hundreds of times before. From where she stood, however, she turned and watched Than and the foreigner through the thin mesh of her blind.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Mounts and Riders (IrishWolf &amp; Somnifera) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>IrishWolf</strong> on <strong>29-12-2015, 03:41:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				That annoyance was starting to surge inside the bounty hunter again. Had he not already given this renter of horse flesh over three times her asking price, for the beast? By the Pit, he was sure enough that he could have bought the centaur for that much but this shew was being so damn penny pinching, he was almost ready to grind his teeth. BUt he had to stay calm, at least until he was on the back of his new mount. But he was damn, if she wasn't testing his patience. Instead, he just gave a flat, unfriendly look, as the boy ran off to fetch saddle and the other necessaries. <br><br>“Da” grunted the faired haired northern, turning his head to look, when the boy returned and getting a good look at some of the equipment. A faded blanket and a saddle of woven cloth? Did this people not have a proper leather saddle? He wished he had brought the one he used on dogback but it had just been too heavy, when he was already burdened with bow, quiver and saddlebags. Not to mention, if he had brought his own, comfortable saddle, he would have been left defenseless, if the four he was to hunt, had turned up again. But a cloth saddle and a used blanket? He was to pay for these things, if they were damaged? <br><br>“If my fault” Aleksei add, looking back at Than, pointing one finger at the blanket, “Old tack that wears out, I’m not paying for.” <br><br>As if the conversation was over, he turned, to watch the boy fit the saddle. It really wasn’t any different a process, then saddling one of his dogs. Luckily, he wouldn’t have to learn that skill again. It would just be the fun of trying to figure out the small but important details that different between mastering a canine and a centaur but he would be away from these people, before he tried anything more than the very basics of riding. One couldn’t go charging off through a city and have their beast leaping over stalls. <br><br>Satisfied he could saddle the creature, Aleksei returned to the edge of the ring and grabbed his rest of his gear. Walking over to the centaur again, he hefted the leather bags and half slide and half tossed them over her back, snugging the pair close to the back of the saddle. Taking a moment, he looked at the saddle, before picking out the points he could use to tie the thongs one the bags to, his fingers working quickly and mostly by memory, rather than his needing to look at what he was doing. <br><br>“Boy” he growled, reaching for the bow and quiver, “Go fetch my box and be careful with it.” 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Mounts and Riders (IrishWolf &amp; Somnifera) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Somnifera</strong> on <strong>29-12-2015, 05:14:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Than crooked her jaw, bruxing her front teeth as she searched through her mind for any last thing she could bring up to dissuade the man- if only to check that he was truly intent on this rental and not some careless bastard who was simply down on his luck and would leave Anat dead in a field if it came to that. She didn't have the best feeling about him, but it was too late to turn back now. Those notes were still in her possession.<br><br>"That tack is perfectly good," Than barked, her hands in her sash. "Light saddle, light feet."<br><br>The saddle was low but structured, formed internally with the aid of leather and stiff cords of horsehair. The weave itself was of a tough plant fibre, not wool. It was worn, yes, faded, yes, but it would do, and a rider would have good feel of the mare's sides under their legs. Than preferred her centaur be ridden that way because while her reins saved her gums, good saddlework would save her reins.<br><br>Once he was done fitting the centaur with her tack, the boy undid the trappings at her arms and brought them to the front where he reclasped them and bound them with buckling leather. Another strap was attached to her chest harness; through rings at the sides her reins were slipped through the back, and at the back of this a strap attached to a band that kept her elbows in one position. The final effect was that her elbows were bent at her sides with her wrists against her waist, and her hands unable to reach any of the buckles or ties that would have freed her from her situation. Abban caught Aleksei's order as he draped her reins and chest chain over the saddle, and skittered off with a wobbly nod and an unsure glance towards his mother.<br><br>It took him a moment to heft the thing from its lean against the fence because the crate was rough and the grip unfamiliar. Once, just once he tripped in the sand with a short lurch, the box rocking away from his shoulder as he scrambled to hug it back against his body. Tense from head to toe, the boy seemed eager to hand it off to the Easterner.<br><br>He lurked around the centaur's front, unsure if he was still needed, but somewhat desperate to be out from under this man's hard stare. "Anat." He gestured at the mare, offering a weak smile. Suddenly, he ran off, his mother scolding him on the way to fetch the lucerne. In time a waxed parchment package of several bricklike loaves was handed off. Than spoke up, clearing her throat. Her tone was tired and resolute. "Just a piece as big as your fist. One in the morning, one at night. If you keep water on you, she can get you across the sandwaste without stopping. Feed her as she goes if you can't stop."<br><br>Anat, for her part, felt gripped with nervousness. This was not going to be a jaunt around the cities. This man was taking her far, far away...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Mounts and Riders (IrishWolf &amp; Somnifera) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>IrishWolf</strong> on <strong>02-01-2016, 09:13:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The northerner grunted, as the stable owner claimed the saddle was good but glanced towards the faded cloth construction, with doubt in his eyes. The thing did not appear in good condition to him and plainly made ride much less demanding, than the one he was going to take the beast out for. But it was not worth arguing about, not now anyways. He had a feeling, he would have to match wits and wills against the woman, when he returned to the stable, his business complete. Of course, he could just not come back. He did need to go north, when he was done here and he had no plans to ever return. Having a centaur to ride over the world, might just be worth being branded a horse thief in some dusty Pit cursed harbor. <br><br>But he was a enforcer of the law, after some fashion and there might be a bounty placed on his head. That really wasn’t worth it either. <br><br>When the boy went to fetch his box, Aleksei busied himself, double checking the straps, assuring himself, everything was in readiness, before tucking his bow and quiver, into improvised loops on the saddlebags. On his own saddle, the weapon would have rested in front, where he could easily grab it. This way, he could still get to it but it would be awkward, anther price he would have to pay, to make sure he finished the job. By the time he was done, the boy had returned, with the box. <br><br>There was a heart stopping moment, as the youth hurried towards the centaur and the Suvorovain, when he seemed about to trip. Of course, the bounty hunter wasn’t concerned for the boy but what would happen when his new mount, should the box smash against the ground, spilling out salt and sending the lifeless head rolling under her? Not to mention, if the head was damaged beyond the magistrate’s ability to identify, he would be out the reward! Luckily, the boy was good on his feet and delivered his burden, intact. <br><br>He nodded, as the youth named the centaur, while Aleksei tied down the box. Looking up, as the stable owner instructed him, on how to feed his mount, the man nodded again. When the boy returned with loaves of the lucerne, he tucked them into his saddlebags, along with his own rations of dried meat and fruit. After waiting for a moment, to see if there was any more business at hand, it was time to mount up and finally leave the damn stable. There were miles to cover yet today and he need to stop by a well first, to fill the water skins, nearly all of which were empty, he had. <br><br>Placing his hands on the centaur’s back, the Dog Rider swung himself up on her back, with the grace and ease of a man, born to ride. Taking a few breaths, to settle himself in the unfamiliar saddle and get used to the feeling of a horse between his legs, he grasped the reins, holding them firmly but not harshly, as he experimentally attempted to turn the creature around, so she faced the stable’s doors. <br><br>“Three fortnights” 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Mounts and Riders (IrishWolf &amp; Somnifera) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Somnifera</strong> on <strong>02-01-2016, 21:33:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Abban shuffled out of the ring and sat on the bleached wood of the fence, well behind his mother who watched the foreigner truss up the centaur with a reasonably skilled hand. "Three fortnights." She replied.<br><br>With an echoing huff, Anat accepted her rider and leaned her upper torso forward a touch as she began to move towards the stalls. Why the man faced that way was beyond her, since the gate was aft, but she simply followed direction...for the most part. She did do so slowly, because the command didn't make sense when she knew he wanted to leave. Than for her part had moved to open the second gate of the ring, and Abban hopped off of the fence to open the huge double gate doors that lead out into the back alley behind the business.<br><br>The saddle was firm but Aleksei would feel more of her movement beneath him than he might have expected. He would have to move <em>with</em> her. Her gait was subtly springy but in a controlled way that lent her walk a certain smoothness. He would find, once he got her into the alley, that even at a good clip her gait was unusually smooth. She knew that beyond the gates of her stables, there was a wide sloping alley that lead to one of the highstreets of trade. She knew that beyond that there were roads into the fringes of town or down to the docks. However, she knew, too, that this man did not seem at all interested in any of them, and she would not know where he intended to take her. Something about his presence smelled faintly of death and dogs, and she did not trust him.<br><br>Soon, however, the smells of the road and city would distract her, and she could instead turn her thoughts to the possibilities of their destination. Anat wagered that in three fortnights, she'd be brought so far away that she would see an entirely new panorama before her, which would make the unease of such a long sojourn worth it. That was a bittersweet thought, however, for she felt that she should not have needed to be <em>ridden out</em> like a beast just to explore a world that should have been hers to travel. But such was the way of things now, because humans were barbaric, the lot of them.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Mounts and Riders (IrishWolf &amp; Somnifera) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>IrishWolf</strong> on <strong>10-01-2016, 23:03:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				To his credit, as Aleksei rode Anat out of the stable and down the alley towards the road, he was trying to move with her. While her movements were smooth, he was more used to loping stride of a thousand pound riding dog, a creature he had practically been born on. So his instincts and unthinking assumptions, for where and when he needed to shift his weight, were off, at least for the riding of a centaur. The result was a slightly uncomfortable ride, at least until he was mentally able to override what he found natural and was able to concentrate on her moments. It was slow to begin with but he was catching on, as they passed out into the rode and the bright sunshine. <br><br>As they joined the throngs in the road, a space opened around rider and mount. Not only did those forced to walk in the streets, not wish to have their feet trampled under the hooves of the centaur, it was a social reaction. Anyone with enough money to rent such a beast, was expected to one of the upper class, a wealthy merchant at the very least, if not one of noble blood. Sure, the stranger upon the back of the centaur was rough looking and strangely dressed but this was a trade port, outlandish folk were to be found in droves. Not to mention, he wore a sword in easy reach. Anyone pressing too close, might just find themselves reminded to be polite, with the flat of the blade or worse, liberated of an ear or other such non lethal blow. <br><br>For his part, the bounty hunter took no notice. He was used to people getting out of his way, no because they thought him a rich man but because he was an armed one and his dogs. While a dog, even one as big as those who accompanied every Suvorovain, might not crush toes with a steel shod hoof, they could quickly savage anyone who provoked them. Especially those not attached wagons, like many were in the merchant bands of the people. <br><br>Aleksei need to the eastern gate but first, the water skins needed filling. He could remember passing several wells, in his search of the city, earlier that day and turned Anat towards the closest one. Or at least, it was the closest one he was sure of, there could be others nearer to the stable or one a more direct route to the gate but he didn’t feel like searching them out. He just wanted to get some water and be on his way. Even if that meant going out of his way, to reach a source of water he knew was there. <br><br>When they reached the well however, there was a slight problem, at least for him. He wasn’t sure he could trust the centaur to stand, while he filled the skins. If she had been one of his dogs, he could have. If she had been fully a horse, he might have risked it but this was a thinking being. She could, if she wanted to, cause him trouble, by running off. Without anywhere to tie her off to, he would have to attempt to hold her leads, while filling the skins. he was just about to hop off her back, when he spotted the boys. Locals by their coloring and dress and street urchins by the dirt. All it took were a few copper coins and hand gestures, to enlist them to refilling his water supply, while he remained mounted. <br><br>That chore taken care off, Aleksai turned Anat towards the gate, letting her set the pace, at least until they cleared the city. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Mounts and Riders (IrishWolf &amp; Somnifera) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Somnifera</strong> on <strong>11-01-2016, 00:43:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Each pair of legs that swung around her body was new and unfamiliar- Anat was used to that. She was used to feeling her riders shift to get the feel of her slender barrel and squeeze their knees testingly around her sides. But Anat was part horse, and smooth gaits were prized in riding horses- none of her other riders had felt so <em>awkward.</em> All the same, she rode out where he lead, watching the sea of people in the port town part before her leggy strides...even if she felt like her rider was creating turbulence where there shouldn't be.<br><br>As usual, people stared at her. She could only see them fleetingly through the front latticework of her blinder before they disappeared into the corners of her vision, blocked off as it was by the opaque mesh. Whatever Aleksei thought of her tack, the people of the town thought her fine indeed, and glanced frequently at the way her coat seemed lit from within, traces of shifting gold highlighting the boning and sinew of her body. Let them stare, she thought. With a slight arch in her leaning upper body, she swished her tail and lifted her chin and reckoned that she perhaps looked so fine that it put her coarse rider to shame. Indeed, there were people they passed who agreed, though with the Suvorovain within sword's reach they would never say a word.<br><br>Had Aleksei told Anat to go 'to water', she'd have brought him to the fountain at the hawker's square...but that was in the other direction, and it mattered not because the man did not know making such demands of her was an option. Experienced centaur riders knew, however, that that was a considerable perk that made their price worthwhile- <em>if</em> they knew something you needed to know insofar as a direction, and <em>if</em> they liked you well enough, you could give them a directive and let them take you there. Of course, you also had to trust them.<br><br>At the well, Anat shifted restlessly, not sure at all why they were just <em>standing there.</em> The water was right there, go get it! But after a pause, she was left turning to watch the children work the rope to pull up water for her rider's skins, and they were off. They were also heavier, to boot. The moment she was aimed at the gate, the mare rolled her shoulders, pricked her ears and leaned into a quick canter from starting ground, surging into the gait and feeling the air whip around her pasterns. She would have gone into a full gallop out of pure energetic spite if not for the box strapped across her rear and the fact that her rider seemed the type to go harsh on the reins or even strike her if he felt unsettled or irritated.<br><br>Anat carried them to the high white gates of the city, her breathing deep and even. It had been years since she had first crossed this gateway. It was good that this rider wanted her for so long- it would be painful to come back again, just to be trapped in these walls.<br>
			</dd>
		</dl>
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