Let's Talk Horses (Matthial)

[Bolden Denusk]

21st of Summer, 511 AV
Learning horsemanship

After a good meal, a few drinks and a good night's rest, both men returned the next morning to the training ring. A well bred mare from the Sunstorm Pavilion, stood by Nightwind's side. The air was clean and crisp with that deep early morning tang of dew.

Bolden adjusted a few timbers that lay parallel and evenly spaced along the ground, leading on in an oval shape in the back of the paddock. He nodded at the setup and returned to smile at Matthial. He slapped a hand against the mare's dusty rump and a puff dirt rose in the air. She was filthy and stood in direct contrast to his own gleaming, handsome strider.

"Let's talk horses. I noticed you spacing out a lot when you talked, and I understand why. A man without a horse is a person with only half a soul. Don't raise your eyebrows--it's the truth. Endrykas isn't an easy place to live so you've gotta have at least one creature you can completely trust."

Bold turned to walk to the outside(right) rail and the mare followed at his shoulder. As the man walked in a wide circle near the center, the mare stayed by his side, keeping her gait in tandem with the Drykas own. When he stopped, she stopped.

"This is Breezy a fine easy as a breeze mare from the Sunstorm Pavilion. She'll teach you trust. Until you've learned that, you shouldn't even put arse to a horse's back. She needs a good grooming as you can see. I picked her feet and she's been fed and watered so I leave the rest up to you. I'd really like to see how you handle her."

Bolden handed over a well worn brush to Matthial. On the side of the brush some words were burnt into the woodgrain. 'For strider and rider, love Pal'.

"This should help get you started. Nightwind's scent is all over it with mine, so when you touch the bristles of the brush, you can add your scent. She'll have something familiar mixed with a stranger to get her used to you quicker. It shouldn't take more than five chimes."

The young Denusk moved to stand by Nightwind and watched Matthial, seemingly casual in his stance.

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[Matthial]

Matthial scowled as he accepted the offered item. Why in the gods where they up so petching early? Noon would have been far more acceptable. Grumbling his way over the man pouted as he cracked his shoulders and stretched. In truth it was all an elaborate mask. He was more then a little surprised at Bolden's previous words. It wasn't the man's utterly false guess, it was that he had noticed at all. Mattial hadn't realized he had been spacing out, nor that his darkness was becoming so obvious to the naked eye. "Easy, Breezy, Mare is ea- What did you just say? Why don't you repeat that five times fast." The shorter man scowled at Bolden again as he leaned back against the offered horse. Matthial knew little of horse cleaning, it was something better left to stable-hands in Syliras. He sighed and tried his best to remember what that cute little body had done when they had talked. Then he approached the mare. The warrior started at the neck and slowly brushed downwards. It wasn't a practiced motion, but it was obvious he had a little bit of knowledge. The man looked down to his belt as he did so, reassuring himself of his pouch and sword at his waist. Dressed in a tunic and some pants along with the steel-toed boots he favored, the man felt almost naked without his chainmail. Instead of making obvious comments, Matthial simply waited for the horseclansman to correct him as he went about brushing.

[Bolden Denusk]

"Don't gimme that look sword master, this is more than a lick and a promise of brushing, and actually has very little do with cleaning. Be glad I mucked out for you." The young drykas chuckled, "How 'bout -you- repeat easy Breezy to the mare several times slowly."

Nightwind nickered in surprise and turned his large head to eye Matthial suspiciously. Bolden placed himself between them, and nudged the stallion in the ribs with his elbow and smirked.
"See? I gave you the nice one--Nightwind would eat you alive."

Amber eyes scrutinized the stiff, careful motions that should be brisk and efficient. He'd let Matt work it out until--
Both eyebrows raised as he watched the man's downward glance at his weapon when he was supposed to be trying to gain the mare's trust.

"Hold on-did you just check that your sword is still there? Are you afraid you'll need it against the horse? Alright stop your 'almost' brushing a chime."

Bold slipped his strider and himself into the space between the rail and Matt with the mare.

"Horses aren't swords Matt. They're living, breathing -feeling- creatures. You're not sharpening your sword. You're building trust so you can grow a fast set of legs. You need to talk to her, let her know you're there. Watch what I do and just mimic the basics to get a start and go from there. Give Breezy some trust and use her name a lot. If you watch her ears, she's listening to you very intently."

The young Drykas used a soft curry brush on Nightwind's neck with his left hand, and placed his right hand on the horses withers. With each stroke of the brush on the neck, he'd pat the horse with his right while talking softly. The stallion started to lower his neck and half closed his eyes, nickering low and deep. Bolden spoke in a gentle soothing voice and the brush stroked briskly over the stallion's hide.

"Getting a horse to trust -you- isn't a groom's job so gaining Breezy's trust is your intention. That's the way it goes ya know. Make the touch soft and soothing, with your voice at a quiet easy pitch. When they start to lower their neck, they're relaxing. If they half close their eyes, it's like a person drinking a long slug of cold ale."

When they'd finished grooming in tandem, Bold moved to the front of the strider and stood with his hands open to offer up the bristles of the brush to the animal. Nightwind blew threw his nostrils onto it and then tried to chew on it. Bolden laughed and threw the brush off to the side.

"Let Breezy get a whiff of your scent on the brush until she's comfortable enough to nibble it. Don't shove it in her face, just show it in your hands near her whiskers--horses don't see down very well. They see best from the sides because they're prey animals."

He turned to Matt and gave a friendly reminder.

"Horses don't have to trust us and we don't have to force them to do our bidding either. A horse convinced against his will, is of his own opinion still."

[Matthial]

As Bolden spoke, Matthial stepped back, and watched. For a moment irritation could easily be seen etched across the swordsman's face. It was hard to tell if he was listening at all. Scowling, the man reached down into his pouch, and retrieved the primary concern for this morning. The briar pipe's stem found its way into the mouth while Bolden's back was turned. Two deft fingers dug in the pouch for a second, and withdrew an inkling of tobacco. Sprinkling it into the bowl, the man continued to listen. However, while doing so he withdrew a match, and slowly struck it against his sword hilt. As he did so, he watched Nightwind. The horse immediately gave a snort of irritation and raised his head a bit higher, obviously concerned with this stranger's movements. The tobacco lit, Matthial took a long puff, and then arced his head to the sky whilst letting the smoke out in a longer exhale. Withdrawing his pipe from his mouth, the Syliran watched Nightwind again with interest. "These arn't warhorses. How do you expect to fight atop such a creature if it gets startled at the smallest of movements? If it fears a sword, it has no place on the battlefield." Matthial thought back to the famed Syliran warhorses. How trained and obedient they had been. It wasn't so much about riding, as about charging. The armored beasts where something to be feared. Yet this Danusk fellow seemed intent on befriending the creature as opposed to 'training' it. Clearly the two cultures had a very different view. Another puff, and Matthial blew upwards to the sky away from the two beasts. It was becoming apparent the tobacco was having an effect on the outsider, as his stance loosened up considerably. Bending down the man used his free hand to gather up the discarded brush and approached the mare. Doing as instructed he held the brush up near the animal's whiskers.

[Bolden Denusk]

Bolden scowled at Matthial and watched him intensely. When the man reached down to light his pipe casually, his amber eyes lit with temper as Bold snapped out,

"It's not fear Matthial. He wants to kill you. Don't touch my strider again, because I certainly won't invite you to. If you're on a lazy ass smoke break then step away from my animals. For your information, Nightwind is trained in advanced battle maneuvers -by me- so watch your manners. War horse? You couldn't handle the fourteen year old docile mare--my strider would -eat- your idea of a mere war horse. The only thing stopping him from savaging you is me."

The irritated Denusk mounted the strider, got the mare's attention to follow and moved them upwind from Matthial's pipe. The large, muscled stallion moved beneath him, like an extension of his rider's mood, ready to charge angrily at the unpleasant smell. A capable hand firmly gripped the yvas as he shifted his balance and Bolden's legs practically clamped the striders ribs like drumbeats. Nightwind bared his teeth and pinned his ears back, showing Matthial the glaring whites of his eyes.

Breezy stood quietly with her light ears flicking back and forth, calmly taking in the scene. She was a horse, not a strider and the contrast in behavior made it only more evident. Breezy was docile and almost ten years older than the raging strider stallion.

"Open flames started around burnable things like -the straw on that mare's back- aren't encouraged. I didn't grab a mug of mead and relax while you taught me. If you didn't want to learn in the same respect that I gave you, then you should've just said so."

The massive strider finally stopped most of his hostility, but he still wrung his tail in irritation and ground his teeth. The enormous animal pawed the ground with a plate sized hoof, tossing his large head and neighed loudly in challenge.

"Oh for the love of striders Nightwind, -Stand.-" Bolden's tone was filled with disappointment and disgust at the entire situation and he shifted his weight so deep in the yvas, that the huge strider finally stood still and square.

[Matthial]

Matthial observed the Drykas' reaction. He said nothing over the entire ordeal, instead calmly dumping the ashes out and into a separate cloth pouch at his side. His face was utterly blank. Yet his mind was reeling. It was strange to him, these Drykas. Sama'el, Denen, Ronan, and now Bolden. The lot of them spoke of things like, honor, and respect. Yet they acted like children. A civilized man would act as such. In each situation Matthial found himself at odds with these strange, honor-bound people. The first thing that irked him was Bolden's rather paltry knowledge of pipes. Matthial's father had smoked freely. Bolden probably didn't realize that the 'open-flame' was no such thing. That it was simply a burning leaf contained within the bowl, utterly incapable of burning anything unless he puffed too hard. The second thing was the man's attitude. He flared up much like his horse, and threw a temper tantrum at the slightest thing. Instead of calmly using words, he acted brashly. Ronan had been very similar. For a people who dealt with hardship every single day, they sure didn't act like it. What had his master said? As a knight you two are expected to be professionals. Professionals have STANDARDS, not feelings. You know who has feelings? The poor bloke who just bludgeoned his wife to death because she cheated on him. Put aside your petty emotions. They will only drag you down. On the exterior, Matthial was quite calm, as he undid his belt, and let the leather strap along with his sword, drop to the ground. His pipe was put in the pouch and placed along the ground near the weapon. It was also a considerable effort for the young man to keep his own emotions in check. He was well traveled, and had seen much. Done much. These things haunted him, but they where little in comparison to his own endless rage. Ever since he had set foot outside of Syliras, he had been in a state of unadulterated fury. It was directionless, simply springing up around him like a fire. That same cold anger was beginning to grow. Maybe not at Bolden, but at the Endrykas as a whole. He found them detestable and and easily riled. How exactly was one supposed to calm down around here? Standing in just his clothing and boots, Matthial rubbed at his jaw in thought. "My sincerest apologies master horseman. I have been raised around far different creatures. Our horses are trained to accomodate ANY rider. So that knights can freely trade animals should the need arise. They are not risen as much as trained. I am not one to judge superiority one way or another, but knightly steeds have a far different purpose then your... 'striders'. You mentioned getting used to my ... 'scent' I know I smell like tobacco, so I assumed that would help with the process." He made no apologies for the pipe, if Bolden didn't know, then Matthial doubted he could explain to the other man, so instead he kept silent for a second, obviously in thought. This was getting tiresome. Matthial had spent the last few years surrounded by bandits and cutthroats, yet as soon as he had entered the sea of grass he had found himself at odds with the locals. First that troublesome glassbeak. Then that reimancer and his entourage of slaver/assassins. Then dealing with the Drykas themselves. It was beginning to seem to him like a waste of time being here in the first place. Sure he could learn from these people. Or he could get back on the path, and be ready to kill. A twinge of sadness. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe his mind was fighting against the idea that he was nothing more then a murderer. The fact was, despite always killing in self-defense, those men where still dead. Maybe, his mind was subconsciously trying to tell him something. Perhaps, the city was a wakeup call. Something to shock him away from the blood and death that surrounded his every thought. What have you become, and where are you going? Yet his mind wouldn't quiet. His rage was building, and it was fast approaching the slim mask he had put up. He was beginning to hate the horseclans. A tilt of the head, and a slight bow. "I'm afraid I must not have woken up the right mindset you three, as I may not have come fully prepared for proper training. If you would like I can come back later or not at all. However, I feel that I am ready to learn, with one ... minor suggestion. I suggest we go back to the very beginning. Like teaching a child. It is up to you." The head remained tilted, and the face looked sincere enough, but inside, Matthial was fuming. He was wondering if this damnable place was worth his considerations. Why did his mind feel the need to keep him here, what could he possibly learn from such a people?

[Bolden Denusk]

'Obviously this man has never seen trapped horses burning alive in a stable or he wouldn't let that pipe anywhere near the straw covered horse! One gust of wind knocks out an ember of tobacco and poof! Fire. The type of man that had everything brought to him, but didn't give a petch how it worked as long as it served him.'

Bolden visibly winced at the sarcastic title Matthial addressed him with. He didn't know which irritated him more-the blatantly rude insincerity or the over inflated title.

The Denusk held up a hand and shook his head, trying to stop this shyke before it went any further.
"Just step back and chew on it for a bit ok? You might be a knight or master swordsman or whatever in Syliras, but I'm just a Drykas trying to teach you the basics of horses, not accommodating mounts. I'm not a master or an expert. I said I'm 'proficient' with horses and that's how I addressed you."

An edge of fear and remembered pain colored the tone of his of voice as he tried to explain better about the importance of all type of fire and burning staying far away from straw.

"I've seen two dozen horses die in a fire started by a pipe in the straw of a stable. Straw, grass, wind and fire work fast, especially in Endrykas. One quick wind and that fire travels a lot quicker than a horse can run. Unless you can Web, I don't think you can control that. Horses fear fire and the mere smell of it with petching good reason. The smell of something burning is instinctively terrifying for them. I've run across wild herds of them burned alive by out of control grass fires in the wind. Maybe you think I'm just a dumbarse drykas for not liking fire around my horses, but I think I'm basing it on personal experience. The personal experience of witnessing more horses deaths than I ever wanted to see. Please do not light your pipe around straw or hay."

Bold seriously considered just trampling the guy with his strider and the thought died down almost as fast as it had sprung up. This guy just keeps getting a blank look and spacing out again. He tried to be fair and think over if he'd acted as careless and uninterested about the sword lessons. He didn't think so. He'd paid attention to what was said, did as he was told, when he was told. The problem was Matthial was an outsider and Bold just didn't know any others or if that was their normal behavior.

But the curly haired man knew that Matt needed that kind of trust. That's the very reason outsiders had that dead look--they had no horse or strider to share trust with. They needed to work this out, but to even think of treating a full adult like a child would be---wrong, disrespectful even.

"Ok we both have issues because we're two different races and just leave it at that. I'd like to get that dead outsider look out of your eyes so we should keep going. I'll do my best to simplify it and keep my temper so you don't space out."

The drykas nudged Nightwind forward and Breezy followed politely beside him until the three trotted out of the paddock. In under five chimes of absence, a herd of two dozen or so horses ran for the gate entrance and toward Matthial. Bolden rode at the very back, a good two feet taller than the rest of the horses he drove ahead of him. He snapped the gate closed as the horses neighed loudly, stomping and rearing, jostling each other to get out of the sudden confinement. Over the din, Bolden yelled,

"Each drykas, male and female chooses and gentles a horse at about seven. You're much older so pick one and separate it from the herd. Let the rest out and keep only the one you want. You wanted teaching like a child, this is how drykas children are taught."

The wild horses eddied and swirled, changing directions, doubling back and milling around into each other. A wide berth of space remained around the strider and rider, the horses terrified of the huge stallion. Bolden sat immobile with no expression. He now understood how Matthial wanted to be taught.

[Matthial]

Matthial was fuming. His mind was reeling, filled with hate, and a desire to put this Drykas in his place. Then, as the horse hooves thundered around him, Matthial blinked. Oh sweetheart, to be frank. Get over yourself. Don't give me that look. You act all high and mighty, one of the 'sons of syliras' as you so boldy proclaim, yet you have no manners, you are disrespectful, and you treat everyone around you like they are a potential enemy. By doing this, you make it so. Matthial watched as the horses entered the paddock, and listened to Bolden speak, but at the same time, he was holding his breath. You need to stop. Take a breath. Look at whats going on inside you. That blackness you carry in your soul is a poison. Its corrupted you and made you nasty. Matthial didn't respond vocally to the Drykas, instead entering the paddock once more, and watching the horses as they milled about. Maybe it was true. His old lover's assumptions might be more accurate then he gave her credit for. Thinking back, wherever he went, he found conflict. Wether it was accompanied by blood, or violent words, it ended the same. Maybe the Drykas wern't the problem at all... ...maybe he was. It was a hard thought to swallow, and only spurred Matthial out of his reverie and back into the present. He looked to the horses milling about him. Then for a long moment he stood there, watching, eyeing each one and its movements. At various intervals he would take a step forward, and watch several of the horses snort and walk away. He didn't move quickly, instead eyeing each beast with a sort of passive expression. Sizing them up, and deciding which one would be best to understand. Then he paused, his head craning as he leaned around a horse directly in front of him, and saw a horse nearer to the back. The beast wore a chestnut, and stayed to the back of the crowd. It was a rather small for a mare, not quite young, but not quite the proper size either. Taking several tentative steps forward, he moved as slowly as possible, completely intent on the beast before him. It was a long moment before he finally closed the distance, and instead of doing anything, he just stood to the creatures side, in clear view of her. She gave a snort, and nudged the ground absently with her hoof, eyeing this stranger as she stepped foward. Then she snorted violently, and turned to face another horse. Matthial turned, and walked quickly over to the paddock gate, giving it a slight push he opened it, and watched as the first horse quickly galloped out. It was followed by the rest, with his chestnut near the back. It occured to him, that he hadn't the slightest how to stop it, but didn't dwell on it too long as it approached. He walked towards her again, moving slowly, and driving the beast away from the rest as the exited the small area. The horse snorted again, obviously displeased with this creature badgering her. Then, he leaned back, and closed the gate. The horse turned its head, giving Matthial a stare that left no questions to how she felt about the current situation. Meanwhile Matthial looked down and grasped some of the dispersed brush.

[Bolden Denusk]

Bolden evaluated Matthial in silence, approving his demeanor with the horses. He didn't think the man realized how much his choice and behavior said about him. He'd chosen the runt mare most in need of giving and receiving trust. A solid choice and and an excellent one for a beginner.

He nodded in approval to Matt and dismounted, getting no closer than 40 paces from them. The large drykas sat on the ground and slowly motioned for Matthial to do the same. When he spoke, his voice was very calm and soothing in a low, pleasant pitch.

"Good choice. Ironically enough her name is Blade, and she's a nice mare out of the Sunstorm Pavilion of the Amethyst clan. They're famous for their horse breeding. The mare you chose is an untrusting loner with an attitude toward all the rest of her kind."

Bold let that last sentence sink in for effect. It was perfect, considering that the man chose an equine shadow of himself, as a true horseman does. Once the man was seated he continued.

"You'll need to gain her trust by letting her come to you. Horses are naturally curious so the best thing to do is play coy. Once she does approach you, get up slowly, walk away and move to another pace to sit. After the third time she should be able to accept your touch with the brush you grabbed. It's your own fault for picking your horse twin, so now you get to try and show her she can trust you. Oh by the way, her name is Blade because when she bites, it's like a blade slicing through the air."

Nightwind walked over to Bolden and brazenly began chewing painfully at the curls on his rider's head. The Drykas pushed up a hand to stop the friendly assault on his his head. With amber eyes he scrutinized both Matt and Blade as they began a mutually needed road to trust. They were exactly what each other needed and it was the kind of thing that Bolden lived for.

[Matthial]

The shorter man dropped into a cross-legged pose, and gave the Drykas a smile. It was clearly a mask, a cover hastily thrown up to cover his tracks. In truth, Matthial was sitting in the middle of a raging tempest. However it was clear he understood the instructions, as he turned and eyed the mare. In turn the chestnut colored animal stared back. Obviously unsure what to do. The animal turned its head to the side, taking in the full view of the seated Sylirian, and the rider and his horse beyond. A snort, and then the beast walked ... away. Matthial dropped his head, clearly this wasn't going to be as easy as Bolden made it out to be. He'd have to be patient. Which happened to be one of his most lacking features. For all his talk, and for all his smartly-formed sentences, the young man was just that. As the seconds dragged on into minutes, Matthial's thoughts started to diverge. While his complete attention and focus where given to the mare, something inside of him started to whisper. The whisper became that familiar woman's voice. Violence begets violence you bastard. I hope you burn. Matthial blinked, looking back to the mare. The animal noticed his look, lowered its head, and snorted again. It was clearly going to be some time before curiosity overcame irritation. Matthial felt the warmth of the sun, and the dampness of the grass. The morning dew not yet gone. He waited as the storm inside of him intensified. If he was the problem, the unifying factor in the violence that seemed to follow him, why was it so? Clearly something was wrong with him as opposed to say... Bolden. The man clearly had issues, but he didn't walk a path of violence. What was it that separated Matthial from a normal person. His first thought was his family. When he and his brother had finally tracked down their father. The man had been covered in blood. What was it that had turned that family man into a psychotic killer? Was it something in the family's past? A dark heritage passed down from male heir to male heir? What triggered it? Matthial looked to the horse, and realized it had taken exactly one step closer. In response to his look, she froze, and Matthial could have sworn she scowled at him... or at least the equine equivalent of a scowl. Maybe it wasn't triggered. Maybe it was something that was always there. An inability to deal with life. His father had gone off the deep end after their mother had died. Going to the black city in search of satisfaction. What had drawn him there? Matthial's master had given him one piece of advice before the two boys had left his tutelage. Despite what you may think, the problems that surround us all are not things that happen outside. They happen on the inside boys. Take a frog for instance. If another frog grabs the fly he was eyeing, it is not the other frog's problem. It is something the first frog makes into a problem. As my wife so often tells me... attachment leads to suffering. The words had never made sense to Matthial. Clearly his master had been rambling on. Even now, he couldn't make heads or tails of the final lesson. Yet something about those words seemed to strike a chord with his current thoughts. His quest for revenge had carried him from a blackened place to an even darker abyss. ...oh the irony, thick like clotted blood. It took every single ouce of willpower for the traveler to maintain his cool. That voice alone stirred the deepest feelings of rage within him. He looked away, searching, hoping to escape the thoughts assaulting him. Then, she took another step, quickly followed by another. Blade moved slowly, obviously curious about this outsider. Or at least the brush he held. Only a few feet away, the beast snorted, and tossed her head, eyeing the figure below her with clear apprehension. Matthial chose this moment to make the world's smallest movement. He smiled. Then, he ever-so-slowly rose to his feet. Blade responded with a blink. She was confused as to what he was doing. As he moved away, the equine animal seemed to realize what had happened and snorted violently. She tromped the ground clearly trying to assert her dominance over this moving food-source. However Matthial held his ground and seated himself several feet away. Then he waited. It wasn't long before the animal re-approached the seated man. The outcome was the same. With the same reactions from both parties. Then Matthial was seated several feet away. Then, with what Matthial could only describe as a 'haughty' attitude the horse approached. Blade wasn't taking no for an answer this time. Circling once just to make sure he didn't run again. Matthial responded by rising to his feet, while remaining in clear view of the small mare. Blade froze, as Matthial held the brush forth. The head suddenly snapped forward. It took every ounce of willpower the man had to maintain his hand's posture as the mare put its lips on the strand sticking the farthest out from his hand. Clearly it had been a test to see if he would move, but in hindsight Matthial had been convinced he was about to lose a hand. The horse chewed absently, clearly more concerned with this outsider pulling any more tricks. As she chewed the man gave another smile as a thought occured to him. It didn't matter what the reasons for his actions where. What mattered was that he had recognized it at all. Maybe this was the first step.