His Name Was Julius

    Dawn had just broken over the forest north of the great city of Rome; silver and gold light flickered between the boughs and trunks of the ancient trees who's fingering branches reached into the heavens. Birds were just beginning to sing, and the morning dew mingled with the early fog that wafted between the trunks. A snap of a twig beneath a hoof and a sigh of boredom broke the morning air as a lone stallion stood silhouetted by the rising sun. Bright green eyes looked about this forest; not a fair patch of grass was in sight, only spongy, grimy moss that sprung beneath his feet. Large rocks and boulders reared from the moss, scattered about randomly on the slight hill.

    The lumbering stallion sighed again. He had not eaten well in a few days; perhaps entering this tranquil grove had been a mistake. He had caught a small rabbit two days before, but that barely quelled his hunger. He raised his great, boxy head, crowned with three sets of horns, all green as his eyes and all in different shapes. The largest set attached near the edge of his cheekbone, and was large and crescent-shaped. The smallest crowned his head between his ears and spiraled slightly; and between those two sets sat a spined, thick pair. This particular stallion had no mane flowing from his neck; instead he had a large, stiff mane of hair atop each shoulder blade which descended to the chest where it poofed out like a lion's. He was an Equus Ballator; a Warrior Horse. 

    But of course he had no use for such a title.

    The stallion began to walk along a bubbling stream which coursed down the slope, his hooves springing from the spongy moss. The dawn's yellow light was beginning to intensify as the sun peaked the horizon, casting the Champagne stallion's sooty coat a bright orange. Darker patches resembling that of a calico cat's shone a ruddy brown on his back and face, along with a stark white blaze beneath the brown on his nose.

    The Ballator's ears suddenly perked, his eyes darted, and out of the brush sprang a stag, his mighty antlers rearing from his skull. In an instant, the stallion was after it, weaving around trees and leaping over the unforgiving rocks. The stag, never before seeing such a creature which looked so much like a horse yet smelled so different, slowed it's pace momentarily to get a closer look. The stallion's maw opened, and his saber-like canines and sharp, carnivorous teeth glinted in the sun as he lunged.

    The stag cried out as teeth met is rump and horns followed, but he managed to leap away. Cursing, the Ballator was after him again, hooves clattering on rocks and tussling moss. Again and again he gained on the stag and scored a blow, and again the stag would spin and leap. 

    During this chase, another flash of motion appeared in the stallion's vision. Silhouetted against the dawn, he could only make out the shape: equine. The figure was blasting along at a gallop parallel to him, drawing closer. A scent reached the stallion's flared nostrils; Ballator!

    The other Warrior Horse sprang from an overhead knoll, landing with a thunderous crash on his hooves next to the stag, galloping along next to it with his teeth in the buck's skin. He appeared to be much older than the other; his shoulder manes were longer and thicker, as was his neck. Enraged that another horse was attempting to steal his catch, the maneless stallion picked up speed and shoved the other away, lunging at the buck, biting down on the neck, and killed it.

    His lungs ached, his limbs shook, but all was not over. The crash and clatter of hooves on rock sounded behind him, and the stallion spun and reared up in challenge, the thin skin in his nostrils engorging with blood, tinting them bright red. 

    But the other stallion was simply trotting calmly towards him, his orangy coat shining. This one had a neck mane as well as shoulder and chest; Three pairs of jagged white horns crowned his regal head, and the younger stallion dropped back to his feet, coughing.

    "It is wise to accept help when one is in need;" said the older stallion, halting before him. The other was wheezing now; his illnesses were plaguing him yet again. "I had thought you were attempting to steal my catch." He coughed, scanning the other, who merely chuckled, appearing to be having trouble breathing as well. It was then that the younger stallion noticed that this one too had calico-like markings; a fault in stallions that caused plagues of sicknesses. The younger straightened himself. "I beg apology. I am Lucien." He said, regaining some use of his lungs now. "'Light'." The other stallion translated his name, nodding as if it were fitting. "Well, Lucien, I am known as-" a flick of motion and the ;arger stallion was off, springing over knoll and stone until the scream of a caught hare knifed through the quiet. He came trotting back with his prize in his mouth.

    Lucien was eyeing his own catch, and began to slice open the skin with his canine teeth. Lucien looked up at the older stallion. His body was young, but his eyes were so old. At that moment, the other stallion was thinking the same of Lucien. For both these Ballators were over 2000 years old; the oldest of their kind, cursed with immortality. 

    The older stallion dropped his catch. "So. Lucien. Where do you come from?" Lucien paused. "I travel; I search." The other chucked. "As do I. Tell me, what or whom do you search for?" He appeared genuinely interested, ears tipped forward and white eyes glinting. Lucien hesitated, but found some strange comfort in those old eyes. "I search for my sire; I have many questions that have gone unanswered for far too long. I have traveled every country... and recently came back here, to my birthplace to end my fruitless search." He sighed, tearing off a mouthful of tenser meat. The older stallion's brow furrowed. "You give up so easily? Come now; I have traveled far and wide as well and met many a Horned One in my journeys. Tell me your father's name?" He picked up his hare in his jaws. Lucien looked forlornly down at the stag and took in a breath, closing his eyes.

"His name was Julius."

The other stallion's eyes widened and the hare fell from his agape jaws as he stared at his son.

WIP: sta.sh/038hreommmd

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE I LOVE THESE TWO MAN

Lucien finally meets his daddeh after 2000 years poor baby

ANYWAY KINDA A PRESENT FOR  

and im like really really proud of this

NO STEALING

Art, Equus Ballator breed and Lucien © =Fargonon

Julius and Lucien's design © *Enharmonia