Sancho snorted at the poisonous puddles of sin, for he was an old as hell horse and generally suspicious of crazy ass pools of green water. This was a well founded fear, for he was wise horse and knew not to drink that shit. Generally speaking, the old nag had stopped thinking about as to why his master kept riding him into these weird ass places, but every once and a while his little horse brain wondered. Just why was he here? Sancho was never meant to be the horse of a military man. In his youth, he was simply a fine charger, acquired by Miguel to satisfy his budding passion for breeding horses. Sancho was no warhorse, but a horse of pleasure. Those were the good days, when Miguel still took him riding when he wasn't dining with clients or off on trips to foreign lands. Eventually, Miguel dropped the whole horse thing and poor Sancho never saw him again until his forced retirement. By then, the old merchant seemed too old to ride.
Which is why he was surprised when Miguel did start riding again. The poor old horse was a victim of the old man's happy insanity, and when Miguel wasn't reading books he was forcing Sancho to a full gallop over the hills of Garaz. Verily, all Sancho wanted to do was to eat hay and eventually retire to a nice warm stable with his many fine sons and daughters. But then one day old Miguel came into the stable in full armored regalia. Behind him was a handful of the house servants and the stable boy. Sancho never liked the stable boy, so he plowed him straight into the ribs with a furious blow of hooves. That'll teach him to not wash the brushes!
But since then, they hadn't visited the old homestead. Poor Sancho instead had to deal with so many other horrifying things that no horse should have to go through. He'd been shocked, burnt, prodded, paralyzed, and generally abused for his entire journey. But he still wouldn't abandon his master. He was only a horse, but he was his master's horse. The one who groomed him every night and lathered his old horse back with smelly green stuff that made his old back feel better. Neigh. Sancho couldn't abandon Miguel this far into the journey. So if, Miguel wanted to plow down a mural for no particular reason, Sancho didn't ask questions. He loved the old man too much for that.
Besides, Sancho preferred books to murals any day. You could eat books. Books tasted delicious. He wondered what the fuzzy haired human's books taste like...
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Topic: Fire Emblem on Forums 2 (FEF2) IC/Game Thread (Read 336743 times)