[noreptiles_]

.:Username:.
K~Dog

.:Name of Horse:.
The Luck of the Green
"Sølv Eple"
{Harmoni}

.:Number of Horse:.
Eight

.:Your entry:.
~Preparing~

Standing beside Harmoni, I brush her until even the tiniest speck of dirt is gone. When finished, I place down the green brush and take the silver comb and start working on the tangles in her tail. Harmoni sighs in content.
"Feel better now?"
I coo to her as I pace the saddle, jousting blanket, and bridle onto her. She nickers in reply, which brings a small smile to my face. Oh no, my lance! Quickly I race towards my trailer to get it, finding it polished and shiny. I went back to Sølv Eple and mounted up.

~Into the Battle~
Into the battle,
swords raised
confidence high,
but her height is low.

Lower the lance,
spurring her forward
meeting the enemy,
with a savage blow.

Rising victorious,
a little fjord proves,
that size don't mean a
thing.

~The After Fact~
Coming off the jousting comp victorious, Harmoni trotted with pride in each step and acted like she was royal. I grinned, proud of my girl, successfully winning without any major problems. Many people came up to me to exclaim their surprise about how such a small horse/pony could accomplish so much. Eventually, everyone had packed up and left, and all that was let was Harmoni and I. The trees rustled and brushed against each other, and a cool breeze whispered their own congrats. I wrapped my arms around her and murmured into her small ear.
"Thank you Sølv Eple for your effort today and being a great horse."
Sølv Eple replied with a quiet nicker and lowered her head across my back, and sighed happily. Listening to the breath of ourselves, and the peaceful setting around us, time seemed to stop. Memories of the day raced through my mind quickly, and I hoped that one day, I could share the events of the past with people I love.

[sapphirespirit]

Username: sapphirespirit
Name of Horse: Shamrock Shimmy
Number of Horse: 7
Your entry:
Poem:

Their cheers have me amped up,
Their Roar like thunder,
Tonight I'll win the Cup,
Tonight I'll be the Victor of the plunder.

Two by two and lined with white,
My Clover Helps me win the fight,
Cloaked in green and humbled be,
Some Wish to win by any means.

My Luck pulls through,
My heart 'tis True,
Lucky Lances 'Pon my back,
No matter how much skill They lack.

A cause for pause,
A whinny from other maws,
I prance around the other Twenty,
Striking fear with my Shamrock Shimmy.

Story:


" Well, This is it Sham. " a withered voice sounded. Sham's ears perked forward at the sound, a soft nicker sounding as a response as he walked to stick his head over the stall door.
" I've a feeling about today, Sham. Something unexpected will happen today. Perhaps your Title will be taken today, hm?" Shame squealed, bobbing his head in an odd half circle, as if to say Yeah, right! The old man laughed, raising a hand to pat the horse's nose.
"That's rather unlikely, isn't it, fellow? Seven lucky clovers we found today, Sham. Seven! and you know, it's the year of the horse now." Sham nudged the man gently, velvet kissers searching for a treat. The man laughed again, a sound Sham rather enjoyed, and offered him a soft peppermint. " There, there, you ole' hog, you!" the man laughed again, gently swatting at his nose when he reached for more.

" Is this him? We're late1 It's bad enough I've to ride an impure nag, and - He's not ready yet! Here you are loving on this worthless thing, when we've a tournament to get to!" A voice bellowed out and rose and fell in anger and frustration. The old man bit his cheek and reached for Sham's head collar.
" Never mind this oaf, Sham. Come along, we'll get ready. "
*****
" Okay, folks! It's the seventh round, and Shamrock Shimmy is Killing it out there! Find your seats soon, ladies and gentlemen, The riders are returning to the arena!" Shame had done exceptionally well through the last six rounds. his opponents were defeated swiftly- despite the odd man upon his back. The man was head strong and cocky and heavy handed. Sham didn't particularly care for him. And while he permitted the man to get jostled around- he still held his winner's composure. Sham's amber eyes fell on his opponent just across the way, prancing nervously in place. the eyes of his rider seemed to mimic the nervous fidgeting below him.
" Alright you lousy thing, we've done good so far. Try not to get me hit anymore, okay! Your luck seems to be failing you!" He gave a nasty chortle, and readied himself to the signal to go. Soon they were racing at one another, each horse whinnying and snorting with their burst of speed, each rider bracing in their metallic suits. Wood splintered and shields shattered at the first two collisions. The man atop sham was growing angry. eh was simply tugging sham's reins the wrong way- too rough and unevenly. His metal boot hurt sham's hips when he was kicked. He'd about had enough of the man.
" Boy, fetch me Lance!" the man hollered at his stable hand. Sham paced below the man. Something felt wrong. He couldn't put his hoof on it, but something was wrong. A few moments later, the stable boy came running back, jostling a large black lance. And at it's end, something shimmering caught Sham's eye. A tip? Oh, no. A tip was very illegal,and dangerous. Not only for the other rider and horse, but for sham as well. Sham tossed his head, ignoring the kicks and urges of the man on his back.
The announcer had shouted something, and the other rider was barreling towards them. The man on his back shouted curses and raged angrily at him. Sham tossed his head again. He wouldn't stand for this. He didn't Win at all costs. His luck and his winnings were humble, and he wouldn't have his purity tainted by the wolf in sheep's clothing. With a shrill whinny of disapproval, sham lifted high on his hind legs, pacing forward a few steps. The armor was too heavy for the man to hold himself up, and he tumbled from Sham's back-his lance spilling to the ground as well. Sham landed his hooves and trotted off, his infamous Shamrock Shimmy in full display. Behind him he drug the man- whose helmet had fallen off in the spill. It revealed his beaded eyes and his greasy hair, his rat like face in full display as Sham drug him through the arena.
sham permitted himself to be caught by other knights, and a few more stilled the man's angry hand and blade. The lance lay left behind, silver spear point gleaming in the sun. A few officials collected it, and understood what had happened. The man was disqualified and taken away, and Sham was lead back to his home. He might have lost the tournament, But Sham had done the right thing, a noble thing. And his old master couldn't have been more pleased with him.
" Told you something unexpected would happen today, sham. " Another soft and withered laugh escaped the old man, and with a final pat he left Sham to his mash, a well deserved treat for a day of justice and Nobility.
Sham may have sported impure bloodlines, but he was the embodiment of knighthood, of Nobility and chivalry. And to his old man, That was pure enough.

Art:
Piece one this, while tying into the story as well, features sham's 'wild streak' mentioned in his personality ^^)
Sham Avatar!
Sham /Old Man

[lichenfeather]

Username: Lichenfeather
Name of Horse: Bad Wolf
Number of Horse: 6
Your entry:

Thundering stallion, paws the ground.
A total terror echos around.
Snorting and blowing, he makes his stand.
Entire world, under his command.

Pawing Wolf, gentle Rose.

The sudden movement, time does slow,
Wolf charges, meeting Rose.
One stumbles and trips, the Wolf attacks.
Only his rider can haul him back.

Bleeding Rose, fighting Wolf.

Thundering stallion, fighting lost.
Was it really worth the cost?
For him, it was, for he too wild.
To be tamed by one Feather child.

Malicious Wolf, haunted Rose.

The other horse in this piece is Dazzling Rose, owned by snowflop, and used with permission.

[preppy paws]

Username: preppy paws. Sir Preppy Paws.
Name of Horse: Draco
Number of Horse: #17
Your entry: Click Here! (This is such a challenge!)

Muhahah, calling this indeed >:D

[all patched up]

xXx

Owner;; ａｌｌ ｐａｔｃｈｅｄ ｕｐ
Horse;;Ｊｏｕｓｔｉｎｇ Ｔｏｕｒｎａｍｅｎｔ Ｈｏｒｓｅ #９
Name;; Ｐｏｓｓｅｓｓｉｏｎ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ Ｐｅａｒｌ 'Ｄａｓｈ'
________________________________________________________________________________________
Picture is not mine

▅ ▆ ▇ █Ｐｏｅｍ█ ▇ ▆ ▅

Caught in the moment
You hear the crowd roar,
Straight for your opponent
A small surprise in store.

With the element of surprise
You go for the attack.
Determined for the prize,
The stallion fights back.

Backwards off his mount,
The opponent had lost.
With his training at account
Dash's worries were tossed.
- all patched up

▅ ▆ ▇ █Ｓｔｏｒｙ█ ▇ ▆ ▅

The tournament was in full swing and the colourful flashes of tack were seen as the contestants took to their opponent. Horses were everywhere under the large tent tacking up and cooling of whilst they waited to spring into action. Dash focused on the bleachers around the outdoor arena where the jousting took place. The cheering started to make Dash nervous, even though his trainer taught him to ignore the sound. He stood in his teal and pink tack along with a small group of other horses. He started to concentrate on the current battle, trying to learn some moves. This was his first battle in a tournament, wouldn't you be worried? Just as he started to relax the loud speaker called him to the battleground.

He was pulled of to the side of the group and out from under the tent. An armored man stumbled over to him and hoisted himself on top of Dash, getting comfortable and grasping his lance. Dash stood itching to race into battle, more excited than he was previously. A pitch black stallion stood at the other end of the arena, looking overly competitive. Dash screeched a loud battle cry at the murderous black stallion, who scraped his foot angrily on the ground and threw his head in the air. After a minute of waiting, a loud horn sounded.

It took a second for Dash to register the sound and as soon as he did, he bolted into a canter across the arena towards the stallion. Dash felt as though he was soaring over the smooth terrain, when suddenly a large rock caused him to loose his beeline towards the stallion. Determined to win, he turned and bolted towards the startled stallion, whom didn't see Dash's little stumble until it was too late. The stallion was not expecting him to come from the side so Dash's rider had the advantage of surprise, sticking his lance into the opponents armor. He cried out in surprise but quickly gathered himself up and raced into battle once again. The stallions rider readied his lance as Dash ran towards them. Dash's rider let out an enraged cry as the lance took his balance, almost knocking him of Dash. The stallion snorted with agreement as the crowd cheered for him. Angry with the opponents near win, Dash once again went at the stallion, his riders lance striking the stallions rider in the upper waist. Dash clashed into the stallion, their bodies pushing against each other in a battle of strength until finally Dash broke away and once again towards the stallion. This time his rider got the opponent square in the chest, knocking the lance from his grasp and him flying off the stallion, whom stood dumbfounded. He let out a whinny of glee and made a triumphant trot of victory towards the tent as the loud speaker declared his winning and the crowds loud cheers sounded from the bleachers.

The late afternoon sky was a mix of pink and orange and the sun was hidden by a cluster of clouds. Dash was one of the tournament victors, but had he done good enough to win a prize? The horses were scattered along the grassy arena whilst the tent and bleachers were getting packed away. He stood in silence as people came and congratulated him and the other horses. His rider once again mounted him and rode up to a clearing in the arena where the victors would be given their winnings. As his name was called, his rider guided Dash up to the front and claimed his prize. A ribbon was placed on his bridle as his rider was given a wad of notes and a golden trophy engraved with 'Jousting of which he held above his head with pride.

[Dark.]

-entry withdrawn-

[sapphirespirit]

ATTENTION JOUSTING ENTRIES!!!

viewtopic.php?f=88&t=2190806

I have made a jousting Avatar! If you wish to use it for your jousting horse- Post on that thread and let me know! I will ad you and you can color in your horse!

That is all. ^^

[ImmyWimmy1]

Horse #5. Owned by Dog-trainer Dropped Out

Will be up for re-adoption in the future: viewtopic.php?f=53&t=2023087

[Timey]

.::Username::.

TimeLord~Jedi

.::Name of Horse::.

Sandrine

.::Number of Horse::.

#3

.::Your Entry::.

Sandrine had been watching the jousting tournaments take place at her birth ranch since she was born, and it had been her one true love ever since. She'd sit there at the fence for the full length of the competition, watching in awe as the horses and riders made multiple passes along the fence, the riders making a valiant effort to cast each other off their mounts and into the dirt. The medieval sport was fascinating to her, and she got an adrenaline rush just from watching it play out. Eventually the energy would be too much for Sandrine to contain, and with a shrill whinny and the toss of her head, the young filly would go tearing down the pasture fence, imagining that the roar of the crowd was actually for her and her rider as they worked as one to beat their opponent. The other rider would be tossed off his mount, and the crowd would stand and cheer for them. Oh she wanted that feeling of victory so bad. She needed it like she needed to breathe. It was in her blood...Quite literally. Sandrine's mother and father both knew there way around a jousting arena, and were quite exceptional horses at that. She had watched both of them compete many times before, which only further inspired her to want to follow in there hoofprints.

And she did.

The road had been quite bumpy throughout her training. She had been stuck with a very inconsistent string of riders with varying abilities, and she had traveled around a lot. However, finally at the young age of 4 years, she had done it. Sandrine was about to participate in her first official jousting competition.

Usually she enjoyed a good grooming, but now the entire ritual just seemed tedious in comparison to what awaited her outside the stable doors. The dunalino tossed her head and pawed at the concrete floor of the barn as the grooms brushed her golden coat and worked all the tangles out of her mane. This was her big day! She wanted to go, now. For pete's sake she wasn't even close to being tacked up, and who was her rider again?! Minutes ticked by like hours until she was finally tacked up and ready for her run. All she was missing was a rider...

Said rider came stumbling out of a nearby tack room with armor that was far too big for his skinny frame. His helmet was about ready to fall right off his head and he tripped over his own armor clad legs. Oh lord. She'd been paired up with the local underdog.

The young 'knight' pushed up his glasses and gave a small, nervous looking smile. "Heh, sorry I'm late-Oops! Forgot my lance!" He prattled, dashing back into the tack room. There was a loud crash and the sound of multiple objects hitting the floor, along with a pained grunt. "I'm okay!" Peter Harvery called out.

Suddenly Sandrine's head was hurting very, very badly.


**************************************************************************************

The symbol she sported on her blanket was called the Fleur de Lis, and if her sources were correct, it was supposed to represent nobility, which her fool in shining armor was heavily lacking. It was a miracle this city slicker had been able to get into the saddle. Eventually he'd figured it out without making a complete idiot of himself, but that hadn't been enough to rekindle Sandrine's confidence. The walk out to the arena had less of that 'charging into battle' feeling she'd been anticipating and was more of a 'heading for certain doom' atmosphere. Peter quite obviously sensed this too, because he was sitting in the saddle muttering to himself about how he should really think things over before attempting them.

She wasn't even in position yet and this was already a disaster.

The roar of the crowd grew deafeningly loud as they drew ever closer, waiting for their turn to enter the arena. That moment came all to quickly, and Peter groaned nervously at the number of spectators in the stands. Great. He was foolish, uncoordinated, and had stage fright. This was shaping up to be truly wonderful.

The sight of the rather intimidating black stallion and his rider at the other end of the arena didn't help matters.

Finally Sandrine was able to see her opponent, and even she felt the slightest hint of doubt. The stallion's muscles rippled under his coal black coat as he pawed at the mud. The wind blew his mane and tail out behind him like banners, and he gave a shrill whistle that made some of the horses in a corral nearby flinch. The stallion's rider was just as threatening. All that can be seen was cold, blue eyes, but you could tell under his helmet that he had a malevolent smirk on his face. It was clear he thought he'd already won.

And at the sight of the mare and jittery dunce in front of him, he was probably right.

Sandrine stood up straight and tried to at least make herself look like she had some fraction of a chance, she gave a deep sigh, ears pricked forward. She waited.

And when the time came, she charged.

Just as she bolted from the starting position. The dark grey cloud cover overhead broke open, and immediately buckets of rain came pouring down to the already soaked earth. However throughout Sandrine's training, she had made her runs in almost any kind of environment imaginable. She didn't even blink and eye. Peter became momentarily distracted, but immediately focused again on the task ahead of him. His arm shook ever so lightly. As his opponent drew closer, he squeezed his eyes shut and braced for impact.

The thundering of hoof beats grew louder.

Lance met metal.

Someone cried out as they were thrown from their mount and thrown down into the mud.

Peter opened his eyes to reveal to himself that, yes he was still seated comfortably in the saddle astride a very confused Sandrine. It took him a moment to process what had just occurred, but when he did, he cried out victoriously, throwing his arms into the air with a celebratory fist pump.

Followed by a celebratory face plant into the mud.

Sandrine came to a sliding stop, and turned around to find what had become of her new unlikely hero. He was sprawled out in a shape not unlike that of a star in the mud, giving another pained groan before lifting his head to look up at the dunalino mare. "Well Sandrine m'dear. At least we won." He chuckled, looking like an absolute clown sitting in the dirt in dirtied armor.

Nobility indeed.

Other Characters Used: Peter Harvey

Also sporting her in my avatar. ^.^

[tynahi]

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Here

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