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|  | History of Aleaho [Optional Read]
« Thread Started on Oct 30, 2006, 6:16pm » | |
The eerie silence fell upon the lands. The sunlit clouds of pure ivory dimmed and dullened until it was a rolling mass of charcoal and smokey gray. The crashing waves became less gentle and more fierce as it roared to the shore, hurling itself upon the wet, slippery rocks as the ocean spray curled over the moist sand and disappeared within the grains. The salty sea grass scattered around the strand waved crazily in the wind that began to pick up. The equines loitering the once tranquil beach wheeled around and casually went off for the thick cluster of trees, expecting just a brief, but still very wet shower to come down any minute. How wrong they were, standing there underneath the trees and the leaves, watching the sky instead of watching the water rise and quietly sneak up to them. Not until it reached above their hooves, at least. One stallion reared up and watched as one mighty wave came toward him. As he could not lower himself and brace the force, he was knocked off his hind feet and brought out to sea, where his failing attempts to clambor back to shore and dry land were becoming desperate. Then, his shrieks stopped altogether and all the others knew he had drowned, possibly because he was trying to hard and with such energy that he got tired and collapsed beneath the strong waves, unable to penetrate the rough surface of the crashing waters.
A mare screamed out in terror. "You bungling idiots! Run! Flee! Fly! Danger comes!" she yelled as she reared up and wheeled about on two legs. With a mighty crash to the sinking dirt, water spraying up onto her black-brown coat and her dirtied face, she sped off at a full gallop, her mane flying behind her. Behind her, attempting to be as graceful, was a young mare of only a year or two in age. She was blood bay, with one white stocking intertwining with the chestnut-ish color of her body. The black was minor on that leg, as it was on her muzzle, where a long blaze ran down her face. She was a beauty, alright, going to grow to be strong and healthy and beautifully charming. Her name? It was Roddasa, daughter of her father Deastor and her mother Eramill. Then followed a colt around her age.
He was large and mature-looking. His eyes sparkled of amber hue, and he was of the color buckskin, speckaled lightly with dapples of lighter beige. His black mane was full as was his thick tail. Black hooves that were still clean and unchipped hit the earth with powerful force, and so he lead a parade of equines following the mare and her filly. For no one followed the snobbish mare until he decided to. Who was 'he' exactly? It was Calent, the much respected colt with a bright future. He was wise for his age, good-looking and a natural leader; not in a sense he was bossy, but he was patient and cooperative with everyone, an enjoyable character. He was the son of his father Legaro and his mother Melia, both friendly equines who were unknown to many, though cherished by those who did know them.
And so they ran, off and off, their hooves pounding into water-filled depressions. After leading the small portion of equines in Adderanda, he slowed and lagged behind, helping those who stumbled and fought frantically in the strong waves; so frantic, they only made themselves killed by it. Serene and calm, he nipped at an appaloosa mare's hindquarters, smiling gently as she jerked her head around harshly (until she saw who it was). In a fast-paced manner, they neared the cliffs, the water hot on their heels as it rose to an area below their knees and above their feet. Calent was growing worried. They made it this far inland and yet the water continued to surge forward. Thinking fast, he eyed the leading filly, Roddasa, watching where she was headed. That's when the trouble started.
"You're going the wrong way!" he screamed at her so she could hear. She was leading them right toward a cave downhill. Was she crazy? Did she wish for them to die? When she only sped up with a powerful stride, he frowned slightly, before racing up ahead beside her with an air of authority about him. "You have to stop!" he said to her, running down the steep hill she was leading them all down. Her eyes, fierce and prideful, glared at him sideways. "Why should I? You do not know more than I do, you leggy colt!" she yelled at him, before pounding forward, looking as though it was effortless while more foam blanketed her hide. Calent only slowed so he was the caboose again, deciding to cooperate with her.
So they clattered into the cave, the water still about an inch high, if not less. Roddasa stood in front of the group of equines, as they huddled behind her and Calent, whispering anxiously. That's when a huge ammount of water splashed into the two young leading horses' chests powerfully; so powerfully that it knocked Roddasa right off her feet. Calent, who could not see what was happening because of the water dousing him and squirting into his eyes, was accused of holding a grudge against her. By whom? The filly herself. Breaking the surface noisily, she gasped for air, glaring coldly at Calent. "You! How dare you leave me to drown beneath the water, and leave me while you lead 'your' herd into safety!" she accused, before jerking her head into the other direction snobbishly. "I told you this was no place to go! If we drown, I hope you know it'll be because of you!" he screamed at her. She had something to say about it, too. "That's real nice, Calent. To think you are better by saying that it'll be my fault. If you're so good, lead us out, then!" she retorted, her eyes narrowing to deadly slits. It hurt Calent, but he did as she said, and fought against the next wave. Then, the rest of the horse followed his lead.
Many, in this struggle, survived. Few died in that group. Adderanda's population had lowered, still. Her lands were changed. The rest of the beautiful, blossoming area in which in the tragic end occured, had one area that survived. It was the Aleaho Desert. It was given more than just dunes of sand now. It was a land as beautiful as Adderanda, though still large and populated with the remaining equines.
Roddasa and Calent grew to be friends, after some time. It was shocking to everyone, not just the horses around them but also the two horses themselves. Calent and Roddasa grew in trust and bond. One night, Calent took a stroll with Roddasa on an ivory full moon.
"The stars are lovely tonight," Roddasa commented. She had grown and matured. Her once rocky gallop was transformed into a smooth run. Calent had grown more handsome over the year, and he was more respected than ever. Though he was still patient and cooperative and Roddasa was still a fiery spitfire devil and a fierce friend. Both of them held a secret love for the other, yet they never admitted it even to themselves.
Calent smiled gently. "Yes, yes they are," he said simply. His gaze fell over to her, from the indigo, star-strewn sky stretched out above them. The apple tree beside her swayed in a light breeze as it lifted their manes; Calent's thick, black one and Roddasa's thin, ebony one. "Roddasa, I want to rule this new land as my own, to rule it and reproduce foals and have it grow, large and strong," he shared with her. She tore her gaze from the sky, to look at him with such a gentle gaze she never set on anyone else. "And?" she pressed, with a kind smile. "I just wanted to share," he said, his tail swaying. A smile etched on his face, he lowered his head to graze, and Roddasa did so as well. The rest of the equines were fast asleep.
Unfortunately, one certain horse found out about the plan. Who? Phora, one of the two stallions that survived (not including Calent). He told his stepbrother, Regandi. They both plotted against the mighty Calent. One night many months after they learned of Calent's plan, they snuck into the cave the herd was asleep in, their unshoed hooves making just light taps upon the stone grounding. They screamed a battle cry and reared up, both of them, above Calent to kill him and beat him to death. But Roddasa was awake in a flash and her anger pulsed in her veins. She charged at Phora, slamming him to the stone floor as she attempted to trample him. Calent was on his back after throwing himself onto the ground, his legs kicking out fiercely as Regandi attempted to tample on his stomach and rip out his innards. The rest of the herd was awake by now, and huddling close together in terror. Their leader was being challenged, and none of them dared to interfere with either of the horses.
And so both Calent and Roddasa fought for their lives that night. Only one came out alive and victorious. Predictably, it was Calent. Roddasa was alive, but just barely. She was bleeding a lot. The majority of the blood on the ground was her's. After only two days from the fight, she died in her sleep, never to awake again. Calent didn't kill himself in sadness, but stayed strong for her, until he turned sixteen years in age. Then, he died, having fulfilled his goal in which Roddasa helped him achieve.
But now, his throne is empty. Who will take his place? Only time will tell . .
This history was written by Isobal, of Lands of Aleaho. Please do not steal. Do not repost without my permission. Thanks.
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