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Lunar Apocalypse Road World Cup | 2010Post Time 7:00pm | Distance 88f | Invitation Only | Purse £750,000,000.00
February, 2010
Kilgrave Racecourse
Kilberry, Scotland

Horse: Astaroth (SCT)
Owner: Uilliam Thane
Trainer: Ian MacRìgh
Jockey: Daredevil
Barn: Gealsgàil Tuathanas

Post: #9
Weight: 1254lbs
Placing: 1st

WARNING; Graphic Violence

Black and white melt into grey

till every truth is stripped away

When nothing’s wrong nothing’s ok

Everyone has been betrayed
I ran away from the pain
always breaking down inside
Incomplete
but now I see
This won’t be the end of me

The sun was setting along the moors as Dare swung onto Astaroth's back. The painted stallion hunched beneath him, curling his head and tucking his nose to his chest so Dare couldn't touch his mouth. Dare ignored it... it really didn't matter. Just like the two men at Astaroth's head, and the iron chains threaded through his headcollar, were there simply to make people feel better. They had about as much chance of holding the stallion back as Dare had of winning the lottery.

As they approached the field of horses, the noise grew, inciting the stallion until he was trembling in anticipation between Dare's legs. The man could feel the horse spinning out of control, like a lit keg of powder, and knew if they didn't get the iron off his face soon it would be curtain time for any groom near his teeth.

"This is good." Dare barked.

Without a word, the two men pulled Astaroth's halter off. The moment the clunky iron reinforced contraption fell away Astaroth exploded, throwing his head up faster than Dare could react. The back of the stallion's skull smashed into his jaw, and he swore colorfully. feeling blood explode down the front of his silks. With a shrill snarl, Astaroth lunged into the bridle. The muscles in Dare's arms bulged as he kept a death grip on the reins, fighting the red and white stallion as the horse tested the boundaries of his freedom. Dare circled the horse in a tiny circle, ripping his nose around until it was almost touching the animal's hip. He waited with bated breath for the signal, hoping they would start the race soon. He wasn't sure how long he could hold Astaroth back from the other horses.

As if cued by the fates, Astaroth reared, backing up precariously on his hind legs, letting out an ear-piercing cry. It was answered by a grey from across the field. As Astaroth's feet hit the ground, Dare felt the horse coil like a snake. Dare glanced back at the grey, catching a flash of black and gold silks: Cendres de Zenith. Dare's lip curled.

The gunshot echoed through the clearing, discernable even over the cheering of the crowd, and the roar as seventy horses swept through the pillars and onto the course. Dare did his damnedest to steer clear of the bulk of the hoard, as jockeys and horses jostled for position. In less than a hundred feet of the start, three riders were already on the ground, and one of the horses lay motionless in a bloody heap on the track. Guiding the paint around his fallen comrade, Dare pointed him down the path. Astaroth barely needed any encouragement. Given his head, the stallion was unstoppable.

They gained ground quickly, picking their way through the thick forest when the path became too narrow to pass another horse. Pulling Astaroth off the trail and deeper into the woods, Dare allowed himself a breath. The further away from the throng of adrenaline and bloodthirst they traveled, the less Astaroth fought, eventually evening out into a ground covering gallop. The paint sprung like a deer over fallen branches, creeks, and trenches. The horse seemed to have a preternatural knowledge of where to place his feet, and even when the ground became rough and unstable he barely slowed.

Dare still fond it impossible to truly relax. The forest was eerily quiet, the only sounds coming from Astaroth's harsh breathing, and the rhythmic pounding of his shod feet on the earth, that seemed to match Dare's very heartbeat. The hair's on the back of Dare's arms rose, the weighty feeling of being watched increasing with every stride. When a low growl sounded from his left, he wasn't even surprised. A rich chestnut Faldwrg stallion exploded from off the trail on his left, a blur of red topped by red and white silks.

The chestnut reached for Astaroth's jugular, screeching when Astaroth turned his head sharply. As the red stallion fell back, out of the reach of Astaroth's jaws, he grabbed hold of the paint stallion's shoulder with his teeth. Astaroth's glassy blue eye rolled, contracting into a tiny pin prick as the corners of his mouth stretch and morphed. With a haunting howl and a sharp snap, the noseband that had been holding his mouth shut burst, and the stallion's jaws sprung apart with a clatter of teeth. Dare's stomach lurched. He hauled uselessly on the reins, trying to turn Astaroth away from the other horse, knowing they could outrun the chestnut if he could manage to pull Astaroth off the scent of food.

It was useless. Set on his path, Astaroth was like a freight train of muscle and murder, and Dare had lost any ounce of leverage he'd once possessed. A saner man might have jumped ship. Fixed on his coppery rival, Astaroth probably wouldn't have given a thought to Dare, on the ground or otherwise, but Dare didn't give a damn about safety. He, like everyone else on the road, was trying to outrun his own demons. And if they chase him into the arms of death, so be it, but here was here to win, and nothing was going to stand in his way.

Astaroth slowed his massive stride, drawing even with the chestnut stallion. The beasts' jockey kicked at Dare's leg, trying to dislodge him. Dare ignored the glancing blow, focusing on Astaroth. Suddenly the chestnut's jockey reached over, grabbing a fistful of Dare's silks, before heaving against him, in a desperate attempt to send Dare crashing to the ground. Dare's elbow slammed into the other jockey's stomach as pain lanced through his shoulder. It was a familiar burn, followed by the feel of blood running down his back. Dare grimaced, glad the expression was hidden behind the scarf wrapped around his head.

The other jockey had decided to knife him... well, that simply made the rest of their little scuffle worth it.

Astaroth reached over, grabbing the chestnut's crest between his jaws. The copper stallion screamed, shoulder smashing into Astaroth with a force that sent both horses to their knees. It was enough to dislodge the other jockey's grip on Dare, as the man struggled to stay atop his own horse. Dare grinned to himself as Astaroth gathered his legs, scrambling furiously to his feet. Before the chestnut had begun to right itself, Astaroth was upon them. The paint didn't pause, rearing, his hooves slamming into the chestnut's neck with a sickening crack. The other horse suddenly stopped flailing its legs, falling still as a corpse. Instead, it watched Astaroth with terror in its beady eyes. An inhuman chuckle left Astaroth's mouth as the stallion turned on the horse's rider. Dare sat atop Astaroth's back, not even bothering to try and hold back the uisge's wrath. Dare had made it abundantly clear what the price of attacking him, on or off course, was. The other jockey had started this battle. Dare was just tying up loose ends. As the man's screams died in his throat, Dare stared impassively at the carnage beneath his feet.

He felt no pity, nor remorse, as she watched the chestnut tremble at Astaroth's hooves. It's neck broken, it lay helpless and dying. For a split second, Dare considered dismounting to speed the process for the creature. The knife in his boot was pressed uncomfortably against his calf, and he could easily slit the chestnut's throat. But it would take too much time. Precious time and he had a race to win. Wheeling Astaroth around, he kicked the stallion back into a gallop. Astaroth leapt forward with an unholy snarl, leaning into the bit, but obeying Dare's commands. They wound deeper into the forest, Dare following trails left by deer through the underbrush.

Catching sight of the little valley ahead, Dare saw the drop ahead, and grinned. He leaned back, slipping his reins to give Astaroth his head. The stallion seized the opportunity, leaping without hesitation. They cleared the side of the cliff, and for a second Dare looked down. The ground beneath them stretched out, rushing ever closer as Astaroth sailed to the ground. It was like flying, or what Dare imagined flying to feel like as his heart rose into his throat, the rush pounding through his veins, drowning out everything else. The stallion landed soundly, muscles heaving, shoving them forward and away from the bank.

NotesI'm am actually really happy with this image. The background went through several versions, and I kept changing it to make the jump bigger, but I'm happy with the final version. Astaroth was designed on the fly, and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to make him look that good again, but I do love him. Sexy beastie. He and Dare have a mutual understanding with each other, as they're very alike in personality and temperament, so they manage to get by in the big league races.

Description

Lunar Apocalypse Road World Cup | 2010Post Time 7:00pm | Distance 88f | Invitation Only | Purse £750,000,000.00
February, 2010
Kilgrave Racecourse
Kilberry, Scotland

Horse: Astaroth (SCT)
Owner: Uilliam Thane
Trainer: Ian MacRìgh
Jockey: Daredevil
Barn: Gealsgàil Tuathanas

Post: #9
Weight: 1254lbs
Placing: 1st

WARNING; Graphic Violence

Black and white melt into grey

till every truth is stripped away

When nothing’s wrong nothing’s ok

Everyone has been betrayed
I ran away from the pain
always breaking down inside
Incomplete
but now I see
This won’t be the end of me

The sun was setting along the moors as Dare swung onto Astaroth's back. The painted stallion hunched beneath him, curling his head and tucking his nose to his chest so Dare couldn't touch his mouth. Dare ignored it... it really didn't matter. Just like the two men at Astaroth's head, and the iron chains threaded through his headcollar, were there simply to make people feel better. They had about as much chance of holding the stallion back as Dare had of winning the lottery.

As they approached the field of horses, the noise grew, inciting the stallion until he was trembling in anticipation between Dare's legs. The man could feel the horse spinning out of control, like a lit keg of powder, and knew if they didn't get the iron off his face soon it would be curtain time for any groom near his teeth.

"This is good." Dare barked.

Without a word, the two men pulled Astaroth's halter off. The moment the clunky iron reinforced contraption fell away Astaroth exploded, throwing his head up faster than Dare could react. The back of the stallion's skull smashed into his jaw, and he swore colorfully. feeling blood explode down the front of his silks. With a shrill snarl, Astaroth lunged into the bridle. The muscles in Dare's arms bulged as he kept a death grip on the reins, fighting the red and white stallion as the horse tested the boundaries of his freedom. Dare circled the horse in a tiny circle, ripping his nose around until it was almost touching the animal's hip. He waited with bated breath for the signal, hoping they would start the race soon. He wasn't sure how long he could hold Astaroth back from the other horses.

As if cued by the fates, Astaroth reared, backing up precariously on his hind legs, letting out an ear-piercing cry. It was answered by a grey from across the field. As Astaroth's feet hit the ground, Dare felt the horse coil like a snake. Dare glanced back at the grey, catching a flash of black and gold silks: Cendres de Zenith. Dare's lip curled.

The gunshot echoed through the clearing, discernable even over the cheering of the crowd, and the roar as seventy horses swept through the pillars and onto the course. Dare did his damnedest to steer clear of the bulk of the hoard, as jockeys and horses jostled for position. In less than a hundred feet of the start, three riders were already on the ground, and one of the horses lay motionless in a bloody heap on the track. Guiding the paint around his fallen comrade, Dare pointed him down the path. Astaroth barely needed any encouragement. Given his head, the stallion was unstoppable.

They gained ground quickly, picking their way through the thick forest when the path became too narrow to pass another horse. Pulling Astaroth off the trail and deeper into the woods, Dare allowed himself a breath. The further away from the throng of adrenaline and bloodthirst they traveled, the less Astaroth fought, eventually evening out into a ground covering gallop. The paint sprung like a deer over fallen branches, creeks, and trenches. The horse seemed to have a preternatural knowledge of where to place his feet, and even when the ground became rough and unstable he barely slowed.

Dare still fond it impossible to truly relax. The forest was eerily quiet, the only sounds coming from Astaroth's harsh breathing, and the rhythmic pounding of his shod feet on the earth, that seemed to match Dare's very heartbeat. The hair's on the back of Dare's arms rose, the weighty feeling of being watched increasing with every stride. When a low growl sounded from his left, he wasn't even surprised. A rich chestnut Faldwrg stallion exploded from off the trail on his left, a blur of red topped by red and white silks.

The chestnut reached for Astaroth's jugular, screeching when Astaroth turned his head sharply. As the red stallion fell back, out of the reach of Astaroth's jaws, he grabbed hold of the paint stallion's shoulder with his teeth. Astaroth's glassy blue eye rolled, contracting into a tiny pin prick as the corners of his mouth stretch and morphed. With a haunting howl and a sharp snap, the noseband that had been holding his mouth shut burst, and the stallion's jaws sprung apart with a clatter of teeth. Dare's stomach lurched. He hauled uselessly on the reins, trying to turn Astaroth away from the other horse, knowing they could outrun the chestnut if he could manage to pull Astaroth off the scent of food.

It was useless. Set on his path, Astaroth was like a freight train of muscle and murder, and Dare had lost any ounce of leverage he'd once possessed. A saner man might have jumped ship. Fixed on his coppery rival, Astaroth probably wouldn't have given a thought to Dare, on the ground or otherwise, but Dare didn't give a damn about safety. He, like everyone else on the road, was trying to outrun his own demons. And if they chase him into the arms of death, so be it, but here was here to win, and nothing was going to stand in his way.

Astaroth slowed his massive stride, drawing even with the chestnut stallion. The beasts' jockey kicked at Dare's leg, trying to dislodge him. Dare ignored the glancing blow, focusing on Astaroth. Suddenly the chestnut's jockey reached over, grabbing a fistful of Dare's silks, before heaving against him, in a desperate attempt to send Dare crashing to the ground. Dare's elbow slammed into the other jockey's stomach as pain lanced through his shoulder. It was a familiar burn, followed by the feel of blood running down his back. Dare grimaced, glad the expression was hidden behind the scarf wrapped around his head.

The other jockey had decided to knife him... well, that simply made the rest of their little scuffle worth it.

Astaroth reached over, grabbing the chestnut's crest between his jaws. The copper stallion screamed, shoulder smashing into Astaroth with a force that sent both horses to their knees. It was enough to dislodge the other jockey's grip on Dare, as the man struggled to stay atop his own horse. Dare grinned to himself as Astaroth gathered his legs, scrambling furiously to his feet. Before the chestnut had begun to right itself, Astaroth was upon them. The paint didn't pause, rearing, his hooves slamming into the chestnut's neck with a sickening crack. The other horse suddenly stopped flailing its legs, falling still as a corpse. Instead, it watched Astaroth with terror in its beady eyes. An inhuman chuckle left Astaroth's mouth as the stallion turned on the horse's rider. Dare sat atop Astaroth's back, not even bothering to try and hold back the uisge's wrath. Dare had made it abundantly clear what the price of attacking him, on or off course, was. The other jockey had started this battle. Dare was just tying up loose ends. As the man's screams died in his throat, Dare stared impassively at the carnage beneath his feet.

He felt no pity, nor remorse, as she watched the chestnut tremble at Astaroth's hooves. It's neck broken, it lay helpless and dying. For a split second, Dare considered dismounting to speed the process for the creature. The knife in his boot was pressed uncomfortably against his calf, and he could easily slit the chestnut's throat. But it would take too much time. Precious time and he had a race to win. Wheeling Astaroth around, he kicked the stallion back into a gallop. Astaroth leapt forward with an unholy snarl, leaning into the bit, but obeying Dare's commands. They wound deeper into the forest, Dare following trails left by deer through the underbrush.

Catching sight of the little valley ahead, Dare saw the drop ahead, and grinned. He leaned back, slipping his reins to give Astaroth his head. The stallion seized the opportunity, leaping without hesitation. They cleared the side of the cliff, and for a second Dare looked down. The ground beneath them stretched out, rushing ever closer as Astaroth sailed to the ground. It was like flying, or what Dare imagined flying to feel like as his heart rose into his throat, the rush pounding through his veins, drowning out everything else. The stallion landed soundly, muscles heaving, shoving them forward and away from the bank.

NotesI'm am actually really happy with this image. The background went through several versions, and I kept changing it to make the jump bigger, but I'm happy with the final version. Astaroth was designed on the fly, and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to make him look that good again, but I do love him. Sexy beastie. He and Dare have a mutual understanding with each other, as they're very alike in personality and temperament, so they manage to get by in the big league races.