Assignment 3 for #HARPG-Outlaw-Trail

Other images:

[link] Sepia portrait
[link] Coloured Portrait
[link] Advert
[link] Arrival
[link] Bonus Picture 1
[link] Around the Campfire
[link] Assignment 2 previous

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MY COMPUTER'S FIXED! Unfortunately, it wasn't saved quickly enough to get this done digitally, and since I seem to have lost my bloody pencils, I had to use my sisters markers for this one >.< NEVER. AGAIN. Backgrounds in particular are HELL with markers! I shall stick to digital and do my best to recover my meagre supply of rubbish pencils, so that you might not have to subject yourself to this horror ever again. And to make things worse, I actually spent days on this piece. DAYS. And it still looks icky. Eh well. WE PUT PAST NASTINESS BEHIND US!

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Character Index:

Roo - generally easy going, native of Australia, has delusions of cowboy grandeur.
Spawn - high maintenance Nordanner mare; frankly, a bit of a bitch

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The explosion was so loud it made Roo’s head spin. He could feel it under Spawn’s hooves, shaking the ground as rocks dislodged and hurtled down the canyon wall. There was dust everywhere, and horses and riders panicking as they tried to make a break for it. By all intents and purposes, something like that should have reverberated all sorts of monstrous noises – a terrified shriek, a horrified whinny, the sounds of a million hooves making a break for the exit. But all Roo could hear was an irritating, high-pitched ringing.

He bashed his palm into his ear, trying to get it to work again, the way he’d done when his Nan’s ancient television decided to give out. Oddly, it wasn’t working.

Quite out of nowhere, it seemed, Spawn threw herself into the air, and everything warped into hyper drive. The panicking horses stopped moving in slow motion, and the gravity of the situation hit him as the mare reared up onto her hind legs, terrified. He could feel her petrified whinny as it shook her body, even though at that point, he couldn’t hear it. All he heard was the emptiness and the stupid ringing. He clung onto her as she dropped back down on all fours and bolted.

Spawn thundered past the throngs of horses, kicking and nipping where she had to, forcing them to move out of her way as she carved out a path to freedom. She bucked and screamed every time a rock bashed at her neck or her flanks, and forgot completely about the rider on her back. All she wanted to do was get away – she had to get out. There were too many people, too many horses, too much pain and so much noise! She had to get somewhere safe, somewhere quiet. She had to get out.

Finally, she broke free of the stampeding herd, and jerked herself in the opposite direction, as far away from everyone and anyone as possible. She kept on running as long as she could, her hooves pounding against the dirt and rocks and sand alike. She ran until her hooves began to throb and her chest began to heave, and only then did she recognize the voice at her neck.

It scared her at first, and she reared up and bucked like a mad stallion, trying to get whatever it was off her back. It clung on tightly, which only terrified her more as she flung out against it and trying to tear it away. But it stayed on, and after a minute, she stopped, exhausted and defeated. If it wanted to kill her, let it – she hadn’t the energy to resist.

But instead of pointed teeth tearing at her neck, she felt soft fingers running through her mane, and the whispering began again. She swiveled her ears backward as she panted, honing in on the words and the voice that spoke them.

Roo forced out as many soothing words as he could between gasps of air; he didn’t know how long they’d been galloping or how far they were from -- everything. He didn’t know how to get back, or if they’d make it before the sun set, but he couldn’t worry about that now. Now, he had to get Spawn to calm down.

He’d stopped trying to slow her after the first few minutes of her rampant canter. Instead, he’d held on for dear life, clutching to her as he tried to find the stirrups with his feet. He became vaguely aware of the fact that, somewhere along the line, he’d lost his hat. He’d spoken to her as she barreled forward, but she seemed as deaf to his words as he was – for all he knew he was making random sounds. The only thing he could hear was that awful, irritating ringing.

He didn’t know how long it’d been before she calmed down, but he was exhausted, just as she was, by the look of her. That was when his words had reached her. Something had reached her. Either way, she didn’t take it well. He had to hang on for dear life as she tried desperately to throw him off her back. When she finally calmed, defeated, he spoke to her and stroked her, shaken but otherwise unharmed, despite the fact that he still heard nothing.

After a moment, she leaned into his fingers, comforted by his touch, and he’d swung off her back. His legs felt like jelly as they hit the dessert floor, and for a moment he could do nothing but lean against the mare, trying to catch his breath and his legs.

“They certainly take their games seriously out here,” he told her, giving her muzzle a gentle rub as she craned her head over to him. “Americans,” he muttered, sinking to the floor. He checked her legs, then her barrel, and began to work his way up. She was bruised and sore, and there was a sizeable cut along her croup, but other than that she looked all right. Tired, but all right. He sank back to the ground beside her feet as she snorted at his hair, her ears flashing uneasily in every direction.

He patted her gently on the cheek and glanced around at the dessert that lay between them and their group. “Yeah. I have no idea where we are either,” he muttered, the words sounding like a muted grunt beneath the obnoxious, high pitched bells in his ear.

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You will never see markers from me again ._.

Reference: [link]