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In the beginning, there was only time and space, but soon came worlds, among them… Earth. Inexpressible in beauty, Earth held many secrets that its ruling race, humans, attempted to find. Hundreds and hundreds of years were spent searching and adapting to the knowledge they had come to find in this new world, and with it, came their technology and the bond to the world around them, incorporating animals of all sorts to help quicken tedious tasks. Among those animals, were the horses. Having once been the rulers of prairies, mountains, forests, and desserts, the humans envied their beauty and physical strength. From the first Arabians, they manipulated and bred to fit their own tasks and needs, until descending from them were the hundreds of breeds now. During the beginning, the refined amazing horses tamed by the humans were lifted upon plinths, praised for their beauty and obedience, their strength and grace. They had come to relish in it. The horses were as amazing creatures to be desired by kings, queens, dukes, duchesses, emperors, sultans, and czars alike. For many years, horses and humans lived in harmony, amongst and with each other. Yet, things of such epic proportion never last for long, taking account that it is in fact a positive scenario. Soon, humans began to mistreat and abuse their equine friends that they owned, let alone try to capture those wild. However, our story isn’t entirely tragic. As most wild herds fell to being picked off like flies, captured, and sold off in the modernized world, one area has been left alone, untouched, unblemished. Withering Tales.

A land were humans merely drove past without a second glance, Withering Tales has flourished for centuries, before humans ever roamed. Cradled by the mountains, the valleys and remote landscape is home to two of the founding herds to the modern wild horses, more importantly, foundation for the alliances of Light and Dark. The equine here took their loyalty to their alliance more seriously than they did their own lives. Rumor among Withering Tales’ locals stats that the two stallions that transcended from the “Gray” – or neutral – alliance was Kavenoir of first born Light, and Rancose of first born Dark. These two, as old horses tell, lucky souls became by being sired by gods themselves to virgin mares. This seems a stretch, yet, their mothers were not inclined to telling the truth. Both were of separate herd, and color. Kavenoir when first born made his mother gasp with astonishment, his coat a milky white like the clouds, eyes aquamarine blue like the far off sea. Rancose at birth was a smoky black like the shadows of night, eyes a deep hazel like melting chocolate. At young ages, they displayed their strange beliefs towards others with opposite thoughts, Rancose raging and Kavenoir preaching. Their Gray parents and leaders dubbed them estrange, and upon doing so encountered interference. Other horses had begun to see like the two colts, growing more and more addicted to their speeches of the ultimate salvation. Bickering soon broke out between the two hordes, Rancose quickly growing hostile with Kavenoir. Around their third years of being earth bound, Rancose worked a mob into attacking Kavenoir and his followers, attacking before day, as the skies seemed painted the many shades of red and orange of wild flowers. Like typical darks now, Rancose proved to show more brawn then brain, Kavenoir the opposite. The Light had predicted hostility from Rancose before the plan of attack had been mobilized, and his loyal watchmen were quick to inform of danger. Thus, the first battle.

Little did these two stallions know their names would go down in history, let alone that they began a war that would rage for thousands of years. Kavenoir had on hand a legion to protect him, he leading, and was able to have them awake and prepared before Rancose’s wave was able to creep close. Rancose went after Kavenoir himself, as the two-split alliance herds went at each other’s throats for their leaders and their new covenants. Proving too hard of a match, Kavenoir was quick to think of a plan to retreat, to save his friends and followers. Escaping with some hardships, Kavenoir managed to flee into the mountainous regions to the east of Withering Tales, its twin counterpart and it proving as tallest mountains in the realm. Rancose was smarter than expected, mind you, and sent a scout after them. With word Kavenoir was settling in one of the Twin Mountains, Rancose moved his own band to the opposite mountain. Upon this, Rancose Mountain and Kavenoir Mountain were accordingly named.

Rancose remained dormant in his mountain adobe, swaggering into his older years, siring many foals to ‘worthy’ mares, which of none he ever cared for, until a special day. Kavenoir had fallen in love with one of his most wagering followers; a chestnut mare that was still technically of Gray alliance, however, her heart was for Kavenoir and him alone. Though he too has his share of get – foals – hers he treated specially, naming him heir to his rank above the rest of the Lights. His name was Ferdinand. Ferdinand was a flaxen chestnut colt, spunky yet kind and compassionate, an equal to his father with his dam’s appearance. The Lights rejoiced. However, unto Rancose Mountain, their leader saw fit in his older age to name his own heir. Choosing from his flock, he picked a buckskin mare – not beautiful but strong. Eleven months later, making him the younger of the two heirs, Nathanial was born. Like his father, he was of dark coat coloring, a deep blood bay. Like his sire, he was ruthless, daring, and an amazing athlete. Though younger, he proved the more able-bodied colt.

Around the time the two leaders reached their late twenties – extremely old for wild mustangs, the alliance Gray was extinct. Horses had chose a side based on their opinions of a superior race, quickly admitted or welcomed to the lands. With their growing numbers, Kavenoir and Rancose claimed more land at the base of their mountain homes, founding Foothills Tranquility and Foothills Wrath. Usually, the mares traveled to the foothills to talk and watch their children safely play away from the rivaling alliance, stallions keeping a close eye from the nearby cliffs and woods. They felt secure there, or so they would believe. Rancose was growing weary for the lack of action and destruction of the Lights in his lifetime, therefore formulating another army to send into Tranquility as the mares grazed peacefully with their alliance’s future. The militia and Rancose himself hit on a beautiful summer morning, a day most of the Lights were sharing the beautiful day with one another in the foothills, Kavenoir making an appearance with his mate. Rancose had wanted destruction, but what he got was near genocide. The Darks overwhelmed them this time with a surprise attack, Kavenoir not having expected any brutality from the Darks. Furious as he watched his sons and daughters fall dead in the foothills, he wished his heir away and took care of Rancose himself. The two met in the heat of battle, rather randomly. Rancose had turned to find Kavenoir already upon him with undeniable fury. Without notice from the feuding horses, Rancose fell to the ground, in a heap of blood, sweat, and flesh, and barely breathing. Kavenoir had won, however, would not escape without mortal injury. Having taken a mighty wound to his throat by Rancose’s strong bites, the leader stumbled back to the safety of the mountain with what was left of his herd and family, the Darks mourning and seething with the lost of their leader. Knowing of his sealed fate, Kavenoir desired to never have such a bloodbath spill in the twin foothills again, telling his son that he was to be lead tomorrow, and that his first action as lead would to make a peace treaty over the foothills with Rancose’s son, Nathanial.

Kavenoir died only hours later, wishing to be alone, with his followers scattered amongst the mountain in mourn. The echoing roars and screeches of the infuriated darks rang into the night, before they finally left their lead on the battle ground, forcing his able heir to the alpha position before entering Rancose Mountain. As Ferdinand was a two year old, Rancose barely over one, they both found themselves a bit overwhelmed, unless it was with their mothers. They kept the followers at bay as the younlings would think of proper answers, or comments that would sooth the rallying horses. They did well, until Ferdinand decided to take it upon himself to do his father’s dying wish. Entering Rancose alone, Ferdinand traveled quickly, and quietly. The watch didn’t notice him, until he was upon the throne of the mount, the very peak, where Nathanial and his mother stood, bewildered he had made it unscathed. Trying to be dominant, the dam attempted to rally the members of their family first, but Nathanial spoke differently. He bellowed how he wanted to hear what the filthy Light had to say, and was all ears as he glowered at the older colt. Ferdinand preached freely of his father’s intentions about the foothills, a few brood mares still in foal nodding their heads in agreement. Nathanial looked to his mother as Ferdinand finished, and saw her face contorted in rage as well; she had seen the point too. Nathanial painfully agreed to the proposition, and let Ferdinand out of the mountain without interference, but, that was only the mountain. Whispers made it down as quickly as Ferdinand did, and as he entered the Foothills, a small group of older stallions burst through the forest and made chase after the young colt.

Scaring the lad out of his wits, they came to a sliding halt at the two foothills’ borders, whooping and hollering about what a fool the new Light ‘king’ had been. They returned to the mountain slowly, as Ferdinand ran home, frightened, telling his mother on arrival of the doings. Nathanial had no want or need to affiliate in any way with the Lights, be it talk or treaty, rules to keep them safe just showed how weak they were. He was quickly starting an army, just as his father had, with the foals of his era, and others older. Many grew anxious and excited for battle, and bided their alpha to let them go now, while their king was in shambles, a frightened pup moaning to his mother. With some convincing, Nathanial sent them out.

The darks climbed Kavenoir mountain quickly, Nathanial’s mother included as the leader, slaughtering the watch throughout the mountain as their militia made it to the peak. The surprised Lights let their young ones flee further into the mountains, to the pits and caverns, while the adults fought. Ferdinand joined the fight, willing to right his wrong of having gone to Nathanial. The battle was a long one, and the darks didn’t return to Rancose until nightfall. Battered, bruised, and tired. Their heads were low, and they were all quiet. Nathanial demanded the happenings, they were far to down to have won. Their answer stated that they only had lost for one reason. Ferdinand had thrown his dam from cliff in battle, shoving her over the edge with his powerful shoulders, as they tried to help but only watched in horror as their lead mare fell to her death. As Nathanial boiled on the spot, they tried making excuses for why they did not avenge her, that the Lights were already upon them, that they had no plans with their brilliant mind gone. However, Nathanial would hear nothing of it. He was furious, enraged, his blood seething and burning his veins. He ran off, leaving the Darks, in tormented sorrow and anger, up the mountains, and into the caves and caverns. Now, without any lead at all, the darks did as the Gray alliance had; they broke into smaller herds under the esteemed warriors, naming terrains after them. Ferdinand only heard word of Nathanial’s disappearance a month later, where the lights rejoiced, believing the war was over.

They too broke into herds, forming under warriors, Ferdinand staying at the peak, happy and jovial with his mother and their closer friends. Years passed, and nothing seemed to ring the sound of war drums, until one day, a very mysterious stallion strode through Kavenoir, his hooves devouring the ground between him and the peak. The blood bay stood before the flaxen, as they both looked on, the newcomer glaring most evilly, as Ferdinand looked more perplexed. The stallion named himself Nathanial, returned from the dead to avenge his father and mother. He said how other horses would not be used as futile weapons, but only he and Ferdinand would fight, like real stallions, in a valley long untouched, the valley of the Grays. Ferdinand was astounded that Nathanial had survived on his own, but wasn’t surprised when he examined him. He was built far heavier now than he had been, and now his younger joints would have an upper hand. But, this did not keep Ferdinand from accepting his challenge, with the grief-stricken complaints of his mother. Nathanial made his leave without word other than that they would meet in a week’s time after the acceptance, returning to Rancose, the Lights guessed. Many grew angry that he had returned and stirred up the war again, but Ferdinand said it was merely a vendetta unpaid that he must see blood for, and that was why he had accepted. He was not fighting for war. Over in Rancose, the herds were amazed as much as the Lights had, when Nathanial chased a meager herd from the peak. He stayed there, alone, only descending to rape the lead mares and filly heirs of the herds, a retribution on keeping his line alive and payment for the darks having proclaimed him dead. In a week’s time, Rancose was expecting descendants, hoping they would please his long forgotten father, as he swaggered to the valley of Grays. Ferdinand had already been there, the day a cold and wintery one. All the vegetation from the valley had been reaped by the wind, it a dead wasteland of unfertile soil and icy snow. The mountains encircled them, like the onlookers and judges of the battle. Rancose was the first to attack.

He burst with a rush of adrenaline, bearing down on the flaxen chestnut stallion, rearing up, and pounding at his neck and back with his stone-hard hooves. Ferdinand had little time to reply, however, as he was being beaten, swept his head around and grappled one of the flying legs, pulling the blood bay to the ground with a crunch of either flesh or snow. Nathanial, however, jumped up quickly, almost unbelievably quick, and was throwing his hooves back at Ferdinand once more. The Light’s plan was not to physically do damage to the stallion unless needed, and kept throwing him to the ground or tripping him into a stumble. After a long time, and Nathanial rising from the defeat every time with a more twisted face and harder contact, Ferdinand had no choice but to veto his idea. Nathanial was on him once more, but this time Ferdinand threw himself, and they hit chest one, biting and scratching at each other’s chests, sides, and necks. Skin ripped from flesh, and blood splattered the white snow like fresh paint on an open canvas. Ferdinand sustained many injuries, and was surprised when Nathanial seemed to be boundless in energy, and kept advancing just as fast every time he lost his footing. Body aching, his innards wretching, Ferdinand fell from exhaustion and torturing pain after the second hour. Nathanial towered over him, chest heaving, body glimmering with sweat. He laughed, starting as a chuckle, to the heavens as the Light looked up, fear blinding controlling his expression. Taking no mercy, in a last and sudden rush of adrenaline, Nathanial beat at Ferdinand’s façade, pulverizing it as if nothing more than another small piece of sod. With Ferdinand dead, and he blood stained, the young stallion turned to try and return home, yet he found a tightness in his quickly beating chest. He soon was gasping for air, unable to get a sufficient amount to sustain his lungs. Soon, he too, collapsed from his heart stopping, the challenge and fight to much. Both, like their fathers, had won, however, in the end, lost their lives for fighting valiantly for their alliance.

As days passed, and their leads missing, both herds sent out groups in search, where they found the cold dead rotting corpses of both the stallions in the valley of the Grays. Roaring at each other with rekindled fury, the two search parties broke out in battle there, over their fallen corpses. Few returned from that squabble as well, limping and crawling back home. From there on out, the valley of Grays was named Dispute Valley, the area in which both herds named was the place they would take their war, where it needed be fought, over their leaders.

With the last evidence of the Gray alliance gone, thrown to the wind and carried off to other lands, those that had once known the time found the fighting at their ends. Most mobilized, darks and lights, and banded together, leaving a small few behind, leaving deeper into the mountains to run away from the horrible crimes that had been committed at their hooves and their offspring’s hooves. The small few called them cowards, and demanded they stay, to try and rebuild their nations. But the new Grays wouldn’t have anything of it, and retreated fully in one day, away from the rest. Families were torn, and friends were forgotten, and Withering Tales feel into a time of desolation and vacancy. Yet, it seems, the highway from the beginning of the Tale is bringing about a new era… and more soldiers.

Story by Homicidal Haku for Withering Tales.