Post by Dante on Sept 13, 2011 22:59:09 GMT -5
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DEVIL'S CRUSADE
workout with
TOBIAS LANCASTER[/b]
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So many races, so many horses, four hours of sleep. Red bull did wonders. Pity it had so many calories. Tobias blinked in the morning sun, watching the dew glisten on the grass for a moment, before getting a leg up from the racehorse manager who had no legs (not whole legs, anyhow) and onto the back of a solid black colt, save for a snip on his nose. Devil's Crusade, known better as Crux, snorted but didn't move. There weren't any horses around, so Tobias expected a relatively easy ride. It was a short one, too. A full on, no-holds-barred run for the money. It was an amazing thing to feel that power, and he knew Crux had it, moreso on the turf track that stretched out before them.[/color][/b]
The colt's ears pricked forwards, dark, almost black eyes looking ahead. For his dark name, there wasn't anything that dark about the colt...other than he lived in a semi-remodeled prison, of course. No. Tobias felt something else under him. Something primal. Something that predated crusades, something that predated religion. Something that stemmed right from the beginning of the horse. The jockey was no specialist in these matters. He couldn't put his finger on it, exactly. But there was a spark. And it was going to ignite, if Tobias had his way.
He rode Crux on a short warm up trip at a trot, then a canter, then got him loaded into the gates. The sun shone through a mild fog, making Tobias smirk. It looked like Hollywood or something, like some God was going to come out of the fog and say hello. He pulled down his goggles with hands not much bigger than a child's, and nodded to Skylar, who was ever in the stands. Five furlongs. Run for the power. Crux stamped a hoof and snorted in pure impatience, but was otherwise quiet under the hand of his rider.
The gates slammed open and a kick and a crop later, in a mere blink of an eye, Crux was in motion, tearing up the turf in his wake, nostrils flaring with every breath into the fog, eyes wide. Tobias kept making him go, not letting him fall behind an imaginary field around him. He rode Crux as close as he dared to the inside, not letting up on the black colt. He was going to make this sprint the best one yet, that spark was going to burst into an inferno. This was a crusade in it's own way, a right to the top of Green Horse Fields, a fight for Prison Hill. They were new, and so many stables were established. With few horses to pull the weight, unproven and untested, every race was a battle to carve out a niche, let alone try and gain dominance around the old stables and the legends. Every war started somewhere, and the morning workouts were the place for it.
Faster, faster, faster, Tobias pushed, and Crux obliged as best as he could, tugging at the reins and throwing himself into every single step. By the time they crossed the five furlongs, Crux had given it all. He could do longer distances with ease, but Tobias had made him sprint headlong into this one, pushing harder than he ever had with the colt. He knew the racehorse could take it; while Crux was now spent, he'd held up well, and probably could have at that pace for another furlong. They'd just switch the style for the longer races he did, to conserve energy, but it was good to see he could call upon it as soon as it was asked for.
"Holy doodle, man." Skylark called from the side as Tobias cooled Crux out. "I've never seen you ride him so hard! But we got a good time for that sprint, a very good one."
"That was my plan." Tobias said with a yawn. "I need another red bull."
"You're nuts." Skylark laughed. "Well, bring him in. He's done well, and I'll get you your stupid Red Bull."
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WORKOUT STATS
words| 678
workout surface| Turf
distance| 5 furlongs
horse| Devil's Crusade
jockey| Tobias Lancaster
type| closed workout (do not reply)
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