Hunt of a Lifetime | rp thread


    Welcome to the hunt! At the moment, the event organizers are finishing up getting ready for the send off. It’s an overcast spring day in Scotland. Aside from a bit of wind, the day seems to be going well. The race’s beginning is set in a large field, currently teeming with riders wandering around, parked trailers all clustered together, and a couple feeding and watering stations for both people and horses. You’d do well to to chat with some of the other competitors and earn some friends; you never know what may happen out on the trails.

    [Audio thing because I like to visualize]


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  • Luken . 3y APPY

    interacting with open

    Luken's muscles ached in the windy chill. The stunning appaloosa stood at the crest of a small hill, away from any groups of riders. She stared at a black gelding across the way, eyes focused yet hazy as the wind pulled at her mane and tail. A cluck sounded from behind her and a hand touched her rump as her human approached from behind to set a flake of hay on the grass in front of her. Luken hardly twitched, so lost was her mind in seeing and smelling everything around them.

    The mare was tethered to a wind-whipped bush that lay on the plains, a backpack resting on the ground beside her that her rider was rummaging through. Angel didn't like to socialize much, quite like Luken, hence the reserved area they had chosen to wait at. Call it vanity or whatever you want, but the both of them didn't see much in the others anyway. This ride was for the adventure, not the 'friends they'd make along the way'. If she hadn't heard about it from a stall neighbor the day before, Luken wouldn't even know today was such a big event. Her day was just like any other. There hadn't been any drama. No unceremonious things that morning, no braiding or fussing or supplementing. In fact, the mare had seen this exact field many times before, young as she was. Angel and her trail-rode more often than she was in the barn; the only thing different about today was the huge crowd.

    Shep . Aka Sheriff O' Laramie . 12y ISH

    interacting with Phoenix

    Shep was jarred awake by a sharp tug on his bit. He stumbled for a moment, head pulled to one side, before his mind finally woke up and he put his feet in order to follow the direction of his young rider. Until now, he had been napping. And, until now, his rider had been on her phone. But it seemed she was set on riding up to a group of well-groomed hunter girls, so that's where Shep went.

    The large Irish sport horse plodded up to the small gathering, pulling his nose closer to his chest on instinct. His riders always wanted to look their best, and today was no exception. Especially among some of these more... casual riders, it was important the team of the jumper and the 18-year old rider had everything in order. He picked up his feet a bit higher, cresting his neck a bit more as they came to a stop to accentuate the tight button braids in his mane. His rider gave a polite greeting to the others, pride and excitement layering her voice. Shep waited patiently in place, taking note of the horses around him. There was a feathered paint; a well-muscled thoroughbred; a sleek black welsh pony; a tall grey warmblood; and a shining chestnut mare (Phoenix). The gelding's eyes slid across each one of them in a polite greeting, his eyes hovering on the pony for a second longer than the others. Already, he was seizing up the competition, calculating just how much he would have to give to pass each of them. It shouldn't be to much; he had been doing this for 10 years, and his breeding was certainly nothing to sneeze at.

    "Wonderful morning, ladies," he nodded at the Welsh, the only other male in the group, "gentleman."

  • Hen . 12y Mustang

    interacting with open

    Hen kept her head dropped, hind leg cocked and hip dropped. She seemed to be dozing, tied to a beat up trailer. However, her nicked ears swiveled back and forth, attuned into the busyness of the field around her. She let out a sigh, the ride was a long one, and from what she had been able to gather, they were far from home. Hearing footsteps, she peeked an eye open and saw her rider round the corner, weighed down by miscellaneous tack. Feeling the old, worn saddle pad slug onto her back, she pinned her ears. Knowing what was coming next, she sidestepped as soon as the saddle was slung up on her back, causing it to fall to the ground in a leathery lump. Shooting back, she hit the end of the rope and promptly lurched forward, jigging in place until her rider grumbled and tugged at her lead, coercing her to stand still. As soon as they were tacked, Hen and her rider made their way down into the field, stopping at a diagonal from an appaloosa mare and her rider. Hen shifted uncomfortably, ears glued to her neck, and eventually fell still, letting the wind flatten her mane down as her rider shifted in the saddle, adjusting various straps, and digging in the saddle bags settled behind the saddle.