Guns and Horses, Attn; Rhia, anyone else

[John Ischoron]

John could faintly remember the voice of his mother, his father, whispering in his ear as a child. Describing the legacy of the Ischoron’s what they stood for. Their family line had been on Manda’yaim for centuries, not the oldest of clans, but certainly not among the younger either. Their traditions were set, quarry miners, blacksmiths, farmers, and breeders of livestock. Warriors all. They were attentive of the warrior nature of Mando’ade, but were adamant to remind John and his brother of the traditions, never forgetting who supported the rest as they spent their life fighting for the cause.

He hadn’t considered the fact he may be relegated to spend more time considering the orchards and husbandry in the past. He’d been John of aliit Ischoron, fighting because he did not know another trade, but now he was John, alor of aliit Ischoron, and required to manage the clan and their produce. He’d been slowly learning since his appointment, less and less combat missions being undertaken. A decade before and John would’ve been restless and frustrated, but now he was older, wiser, and he remembered the words of his father. This work was as important as fighting.

His hands ran down the elegant neck of the creature that had recently been moved to the Ischoron’s main compound. One of the many horses the Ischoron clan bred and trained, for pleasure as much as work. These were draft horses, bred for heavy labour. The small group of beasts now calling the quarry home had no combative use, but they were there to teach the younger clanmembers that the Ischoron’s did not simply fight, they worked the land as well. That didn’t prevent clanmembers for using the beasts for that purpose, sparring on horseback had become popular, had always been popular among the Ischoron’s who called the outlying orchards their home.

This particular beast was a large one, one of the largest they had, large enough to actually carry John and not making it look peculiar. The massive hooves thumped against the ground as the beast pawed, feathered fetlocks a distinctive feature of the draft breed. John ran his hands along the spine of the creature, petting the rump as he investigated the physical state of it. Muscled and powerful, designed to pull heavy loads, he felt a certain comradeship with it already.

He knew how to ride, he grew up with it, but it had been such a long time since. There was a certain amount of anticipation behind the idea, memories of enjoying a long ride with his brother, his father, his mother. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to be reunited with them, but avoiding them was cowardice. He wanted to ride to look over the orchards, finding that using a speeder for such a short trip was a waste of a fuel cell.

Several others seemed as enthusiastic as he was, although his was not as apparent as theirs, quietly running his palm over the forehead of the massive draft, murmuring words in Mando’a as the massive beast snorted and stamped its hoof again.

[Rhia Ischoron]

Rhia had not felt the weight of her armor for days. Ever since returning home, ever since she’d reunited with Ilian, she just... couldn’t put it back on, instead leaving it on the Murderboat with nearly all of her weaponry. The singular thing she carried with her was the beskad Ilian forged for her, secured in a leather sheath at the small of her back. Beyond that, just a pair of hardwearing shorts, and a tanktop. Shoes barely came into question, most of the time.

She’d grown up moving from ship to ship. Cramped hallways, sterile air, white light – All of that clouded her childhood memories, and up until the past few days, she’d never realized what she was missing out on. Rhia found that she couldn’t get enough of feeling the grass beneath her toes, and the sunlight on her skin. It was all a beautiful distraction from what had become of her relationship with Ilian.

What it was, she didn’t know, what it would become, she had no idea, but spending hour after hour climbing into the orchard trees, to shake the fruit-heavy branches or crawling on the ground, collecting the harvest into baskets, kept her mind occupied. Every day, she was spending more and more of her time out in the orchards surrounding the compound, learning that patient trade. That, and her continued work with the other baar’ure, kept her from trying to wear a hole in her skull thinking about it.

Baar’ur work brought her out to the compounds quarry basin today. A small herd of horses – Strange beasts Rhia had never set eyes on before – had moved in. With them, came a new slew of injuries. Broken bones and bruises from being accidentally trampled and kicked were only a few of them, with wounds caused by sparring from horseback a few more. She could understand sparring, wrestling matches, and general fighting, but those had always been on the ground. What was the sudden attraction of doing it from the back of an animal?

As medic on duty, she sat on a large outcropping at the edge of the field, medkit to one side with her booted feet resting on another rock. She would soon be relieved, and then Rhia knew she would retreat from the scene, as quickly as possible. She didn’t enjoy the earthy smell of horse pats, nor how the massive creatures towered over her. While she was not afraid, they were huge obstacles that couldn’t be reasoned with, and followed their own will. As calm as they seemed now, her mind still labeled them as hazardous, save to those who knew how to control them. She was not one of those few.

Her buir, however, seemed to be the opposite. It was with faint surprise that Rhia regarded the towering figure strolling across the field. But... Of course. Her buir was a man of many skills and great experience, she’d just never expected working with animals to be one of those skills.

At first, Rhia tried to wave, but, it was a weak attempt as she was already getting up to go to him. She moved cautiously among the herd, but stopped all together when she saw the beast he had chosen. The creature was huge, standing nearly a head and a half taller than her. And John’buir was simply petting it and stroking its neck as if it were no big deal.

Moving closer, she tried to follow his example, putting a tentative hand out to touch the horse’s coat, a perplexed grin on her face. It was like petting a large warm rock. “Stars, these horses are massive.” She said with a quiet chuckle. “I’ve never seen these things before. Heard about them, but never seen them.”

[John Ischoron]

He watched Rhia as she approached, continuing to run his hands over the warm pelt, he could feel the sinews and muscle moving underneath his hand as the horse shifted slightly as John’s adoptive daughter approached. The massive head turned to regard the new arrival curiously, but the steadfast horse didn’t move and inch, other than leaning into John’s touch. It snorted gently, eyes following the baar’ur.

“Stars, these horses are massive.”

John smiled gently, looking down at Rhia as she stood next to him. “It’s the breed,” he said, voice low and calm as he rubbed the palm of his hand against the muzzle of the horse. The horse flexed its lips, playfully snapping at John’s hand with its teeth. “Draught horses, bred for hard, heavy tasks such as ploughing and farm labour.” He ran his fingers up the nose and forehead of the horse, and it pushed against his hand gently.

“They share common traits of strength, patience and a docile temperament, perfect for even the most inexperienced of equestrians.” His fingers slipped through the forelock of the beast, rubbing in circular motions. “It’s almost sad that technology has reached a point where they’re not used for the work they were bred for.” He smiled as the horse bumped his arm again.

“We Ischoron’s still use them, there is a certain satisfaction is being directly involved in harvesting, on such living creatures.” He turned, leaning against the shoulder of the horse, the draft leaning against him as well. He regarded Rhia as she ran her hand tentatively over the horses pelt. He could believe that Rhia found these horses strange and foreign; many Mando’a didn’t get involved with creatures like these, other than for hunting.

“For a long time I lost my appreciation for them,” he admitted, not elaborating. He’d spent such a long time dedicating himself to his missions, forgetting what the Ischoron’s really stood for. Slowly, he was coming back to himself. It was a bit like meeting an old friend on a dusty road, surrounded by the wheat of a fresh harvest.

[Rhia Ischoron]

Rhia absently followed her buir’s lead, reaching up to rub a hand over the horse’s long snout while it nipped at him, and looking between his face and the creature’s eye. It was looking at her, and she looked back. There was no great intelligence there, but it wasn’t like looking at a small rodent, or reptile. It understood to some degree.

Being favored with a smile from John was an odd experience. Not bad any sense, just odd. She found him hard to read, emotion rarely ever appearing on his face, so, a full smile was just out of this world. She supposed there was something about being with these animals that brought a softness out in him. It was exceptional to witness.

While she absorbed the information, Rhia continued to stroke the horse’s nose, hand moving up to the side of its jaw, and then into the coarse black mane. It didn’t occur to her that they had always been into the animal husbandry, but it explained a lot. Sure, their size was part of their breed, but to tower over most humanoids to the point where getting astride was impossible without assistance? That must’ve taken generations of work. Just like the smile, she’d never heard her father say this much with so little prompting, but she’d noticed that when he was giving information, this was usually the case. The last sentence was what caught her attention again.

There was an air of nostalgia about him. She did remember speaking to him about the scientist, and a bit about his past, but it had never gone as far back as his childhood with the Ischorons. “Did you have a horse of your own when you were a child?” She started grinning herself. “And did John’buir like being a little hodar, and wrestle his vode from horseback?”

[John Ischoron]

“Did you have a horse of your own when you were a child?”

John dug his fingers into the coarse hair of the horse’s mane, rubbing gently into the muscle of the horse’s withers as he considered the question. It nickered quietly, enjoying the attention from both John and Rhia, bumping its massive forehead into Rhia’s chest and leaning its shoulder into John. He couldn’t fully remember if he had owned a horse, or if he’d merely ridden one of the many in the aliit’s herd.

“In a manner of speaking,” he said finally. “The herds were on Manda’yaim, as Socorro was too arid for our orchards. In the times I visited as a child I rode with my vode.” He remembered those days, the vibrant green of Manda’yaim a contrast to the black sands of Socorro he was used to. It has always been a pleasure to experience the orchards and the herds, see the tradition compared to the modern habits.

“… wrestle his vode from horseback?”

He let out a light rumbling laugh, understanding where her question came from. The increase in horse related injuries was not a surprise to him. Sparring on horseback had been a regular exercise among the Ischoron’s local to Manda’yaim, an excellent way of keeping in fighting form, and keeping the horses used to the clash of metal on metal. John was sure the Mando’ade could ride them into battle and the beasts wouldn’t flinch.

“I was among the best,” he answered simply, turning to face the bulk of the herd of horses. He remembered the fun and pleasing exhaustion that came with a well fought match on horseback, the feeling of the horse working in time with the warrior on its back. It was archaic; no practical use beyond keeping fit and keeping a fight interesting, but John felt it was useful for warriors to learn.

He swept his arm towards the beasts gathered, turning his head towards Rhia. “Pick one.”

[Rhia Ischoron]

Eyebrows flying up, Rhia took a step back as the horse bumped her with its head, unsure if she had upset it or not. The thing was strong, she could tell just from that gentle tap, and standing right in front of it while it was angry was definitely unwise. But, it continued to just stand there, looking content, and the woman returned to her ministrations.

“In a manner of speaking. The herds were on Manda’yaim, as Socorro was too arid for our orchards. In the times I visited as a child I rode with my vode.”

Ah, Socorro. She’d forgotten that part of the clan history. Manda’yaim was all she knew for the Ischorons, so it was impossible to imagine them originating from the arid planet. It was also impossible for her to imagine John as a child, the only image coming to mind was him as he stood before her, just shorter. The thought, plus his rumble of laughter broadened her grin until she was showing teeth.

His proclamation that he was the best had her echoing his laughter. From anyone else, that statement would’ve sounded just plain cocky, but when it came from John, Rhia could believe it. She had been watching the ade playing just as she assumed John had, but simply couldn’t fathom how they remained astride the galloping beasts. It seemed horribly difficult, and needlessly dangerous.

This was why she looked downright astonished when he motioned for her to pick one. Considering this recent discussion, she could assume out what he meant to happen next. There came the flood of a million excuses – she was still on duty, she didn’t know how, she didn’t want to get herself killed – but she locked it down. She could see the sense in learning how to ride and fight astride a horse, it was just her reluctance to do something she wasn’t already familiar with stopping her.

“Oh boy...” She said, amused but apprehensive. She knew nothing about the beasts, and thus, nothing about which would be best for her. How was she supposed to pick one? Turning away from the horse John stood by, she gazed at the surrounding herd. All of them were tamed and used to riders, amateur or otherwise so whichever she chose would be fine. That difficulty out of the way, she let herself succumb to the female urge of picking one that was pretty. Bred more for physical traits and calm temperaments rather than aesthetics, their thick coats were varied in color and pattern, making it difficult to choose.

Looking distressed for a moment, she reached up to scratch her head, before the milling horses separated to reveal a young stallion. With a beautiful dappled black and silver coat, the creature had the little girl in Rhia squealing with glee. He was shorter than the one John had, but that hardly mattered as he still towered over her at the shoulders. The stallion regarded her with large black eyes as she approached and put a hand on its impossibly soft nose. His hot breath played over her hand as he sniffed at her, and then he started to nudge her, thinking the attention meant he was about to get a treat.

“Uh...” She started, feeling somewhat foolish. “Right, I don’t...”

Rhia had gone a ways away from where her buir stood, and now had no way to bring her choice back to him. How had she seen the real handlers doing this? She vaguely recalled them leading the horses about with a lead or a hand on their head, or pulling on their chins. Still unsure, she reached out, and pulled lightly on the horse’s wide jaw, snatching her hand back when he actually started to step forward. So... That worked. Right. Starting to feel red in the face, she looked up at the horse’s eyes, and got the distinct impression it was asking her what the kark she was doing, and to stop messing around. “Don’t gimme that.” She muttered, reaching out again, and pulling him forward with more force than intended.

She had to do a little dance to get out of the behemoth’s way, and then jog to catch up as he started in John’s direction. There was a moment where she thought he wouldn’t stop, and would crash into John’s horse, having forgot that he was a living creature with sense, and she pulled harder than usual on his nose. Hunching her shoulders sheepishly, she tried to ignore how the great beast tossed his head, ears flicking back, before nosing at John.

“Oh, this’ll be a grand adventure.” She commented dryly, ducking beneath the dappled silver’s head to frown jokingly at her adoptive father.

[John Ischoron]

He could see her mind working, the urge to back down from the unspoken challenge and leave it to the other Ischoron’s, cite some excuse about being a medic not a rider. Something about mending people, not getting injuries. Such excuses would not deter John, Ischoron’s knew how to ride, Rhia was now an Ischoron, and with horses readily available her learning to ride was the end result John was aiming for. He usually got what he aimed for.

John knew Rhia had no real knowledge of horses. She didn’t know which to pick that would suit for her to learn to ride on, but that was a part of the lesson. Falling off the horse was as much a lesson as staying on it, the bruises and scrapes serving as reminds of what not to do when on horseback. It built mutual respect between horse and rider, and it reinforced the idea that the horse was not a beast to be trifled with, often smarter than most individuals John had met.

He watched as she picked out one, a silver dapple, with a black basecoat. It was one of the stallions of the group, one of the few deemed suitable for continued breeding. Most other stallions were gelded when the time came. They were livelier than the geldings, more likely to throw a rider than allow themselves to be ridden, but it was Rhia’s choice. Getting thrown a few dozen times would be good for her.

Her technique in guiding the horse was obviously based on observation and little actual knowledge. She obviously didn’t trust herself around the creatures, something that the horse would recognise, and throw her off for. She’d learn quickly that confidence was key when it came to controlling the horses and gaining their respect. She did manage to get it over to John however, which was something. It tossed its head, proud like most stallions, before nosing him in the chest.

“Oh, this’ll be a grand adventure.”

Humming faintly in agreement, John gripped the stallion’s muzzle, opening the mouth and bending down to look at the teeth, mainly the incisors in order to estimate the stallion’s age. He could see the four centre permanent teeth hadn’t appeared yet, but about to. Two years old then. This would be interesting.

Letting go of the stallion’s muzzle, the beast shook his head, looking almost indignant at the invasion of his mouth. John reached out and picked a halter off the hook on the nearby corral fence, handing it to Rhia, picking up a lead as well, and holding it as he waited for Rhia to put the halter on the stallion. The horse standing beside him looked at the stallion curiously, ears flicked forward in interest.

[Rhia Ischoron]

Mystified, Rhia straightened where she stood, watching John pull at the horse’s lips. Her shoulder just barely brushed at the crook between the horse’s neck and head, but when he shook his head again, she ducked out of the way, taking a few steps back. After she came back into view again, the silver fixed one brown eye on her, and she frowned at him. She was the one getting skittish? Ridiculous.

John’s musings on her choice going unspoken, she had no idea what she was getting into. This was especially true when her buir picked up what seemed to be a mess of leather and metal and hand it to her. Taking it by the crownpiece, she held it up at eye level and then glanced at him, ‘you can’t be serious’ written all over her face.

Without instruction, Rhia struggled with the halter, twisting it about, unaware of how exactly it fit onto the horse. She knew it went onto the head... Somehow... It wasn’t until she held it up with two hands, letting the throat latches hang down, that she could make sense of the halter, and then that just left getting it on the horse.

Right. Dark eyes flicking between the stallion and the halter, Rhia tried to mentally calculate how it would be done, but all of that fell apart when she actually tried. The silver recognized the halter for what it was, and he decided that he enjoyed his freedom. As she reached up to slip the crownpiece behind his ears, he took a few steps back, long ears flattening in distaste.

Patience borne of staring through a sniper scope for hours on end was the woman’s saving grace this time, and with the halter held up, she walked after the great beast, until he backed himself up against the paddock fence. She thanked the stars that she wasn’t dealing with something more temperamental, and that Silver knew exactly what was coming. Animals, just like sentient beings, never liked being backed into a corner.

One hand going out cup the horse’s chin, she slipped the crownpiece up and over his ears and then the noseband around his muzzle. It was easy to assume what went where from that point, and with the cheekpieces and throat latches firmly in place, she led Silver back to John by the chinpiece, grin as wide as a nexu’s.

“Mission accomplished, aliit’alor.” She joked, even as Silver bumped the side of her head with his nose, tapping her right in the temple with one of the halter rings. She pushed on his nose with a firm hand, and then stepped away, holding the chinpiece at arm’s length. As with all Mandalorian lessons, she knew that her instructor would not go easy on her. There was a lot of pain on her horizon. But she awaited his orders, simply because she didn’t know if there was more procedure involved in readying the horse.

[John Ischoron]

When she gave him her incredulous glance, he made no outward reaction that he found any particular amusement in her predicament. John did, despite his often expressionless exterior, find her puzzlement mildly amusing. It was always interesting to see how others reacted to new practical knowledge, particularly if it was far afield from their usual.

John watched with interest as Rhia struggled to make heads and tails of the halter he`d handed her. Like all Mando’ade, she didn’t hesitate to learn the new things involved with horseback riding, despite how many would perhaps consider the skill useless. He found it interesting how she hadn’t objected to his more or less silent command that she learn how to, but perhaps he was underestimating Rhia’s will to learn. They were father and daughter, but there were still many things he did not know about her, merely due to the fact that he had only recently come to be her buir.

The horse that stood behind him, watching the large silver and Rhia have a minor battle of wills, bumped his shoulder gently with its muzzle. His hand came up to stroke the soft silky skin, feeling the warm press against his palm as the horse leaned into the touch. He hoped that Rhia would come to realise the importance these beasts held, despite the fact that their traditional roles had been usurped by the advanced machinery many others favoured. Many felt that horses had no other purpose than being ridden for leisure, but the Ischoron’s disagreed. Every horse they had was used for work in the fields or elsewhere, aiding in harvesting the goods the Ischorons gained their revenue from.

Using the horses for combat as well was natural, considering the nature of Mandalorians themselves. It was important, John felt, to impress on the younger Mando`ade that they should not rely entirely on technology when it came to combat, or anything else. The true weapon was the warrior itself, the rest were merely tools.

“Mission accomplished, aliit’alor.”

He nodded, checking her work quickly, finding himself satisfied in Rhia’s work, before fastening the lead to the chin piece, looping it over the horse’s neck, and fastening it at the other side of the chin piece. These simple reins were enough for the Mando’ade, John had never understood the need of excessive tack that many aruetiise seemed to favour. Bareback and a length of rope suited them just fine.

“Come,” he said, instructing her to follow him as he led his massive horse out of the corral they had for them. He led his horse around the group engaging in the mock battle on horseback, leading the way to a cleared area that had no obstacles that could potentially startle the horses, and no crowds to distract Rhia from what she was supposed to be doing.

“Mount up,” he instructed again, dropping the reins of his mount on the ground. The horse waited as John turned his attention towards Rhia and her silver.

[Rhia Ischoron]

When he handed the makeshift reins to her, the hung limply in her hands, and she spent a few seconds looking between them and the fiery creature they were supposed to control. Yeah, right. But... Her buir seemed confident, so... Setting her shoulders, she took ahold of the reins nearer Silver’s mouth and pulled the horse forward, following John out of the corral.

An appraising eye was sent towards the play-fighting younglings, Rhia satisfying herself that they weren’t about to kill themselves, before she turned her attention back on John. The man had dropped his reins to the ground and was looking at her expectantly.

“Mount up,”

Oh boy.

Silver’s shoulder was nearly higher than Rhia’s head, and this was far different than climbing a rock. This was a living moving creature which was likely to skitter away if she tried to scale it. And where would she even start? Putting her foot on the leg looked like it would hurt.

“Okay...” she said, gamely, taking a step back to get a better look at the horse as a whole. “... Okay.”

Letting go of the reins closer to the mouth, she followed the lead up to where it looped over the horse’s shoulders and then gripped it along with the base of the mane. A few seconds of psyching herself up and then she jumped, pushing herself up with her arms, and tried to swing her leg over the horse’s back.

It failed.

The horse stepped away, tail flicking at the air, and Rhia was knocked off balance, landing on her feet, but staggering into the horse’s flank with a gasp. The towering creature was unperturbed by the small being bashing into his side, and he simply swung his head around to glance at her, before bowing it to tear at a small patch of longer grass.

That just made Rhia mad. Eyebrows lowering, she straightened and took a better grip on the horse’s mane, and jumped again, this time moving hastily enough to hook her knee over its broad back and as he started to sidle away, she pulled herself into a sitting position, panting.

It was... an odd experience. She was towering over even John sitting atop the horse, which swayed beneath her. Swallowing, she glanced at her buir before flashing him a nervous smile.

“Progress?” She managed. “So, do I just make it...” With a twitch, she dug her heels into the horse’s ribs, like she’d seen some of the other Mando’ade do, and then instantly regretted it. Like it was trained, the horse started into a trot, and Rhia nearly rolled off it backwards before taking the mane into a death grip and leaning over its neck.

“John!” She called, uncertainty pitching her voice high as the horse took off down one of his apparently favored paths through the woods. “How do I make it stop?”

[John Ischoron]

John watched Rhia as she puzzled out her next move, knowing that he was, as the saying went, pushing her out into the deep end. There was no other way about it, he thought. Learning on the go was the best form of learning and the horses were sedate enough that he knew he could trust any of them with Rhia, but should she get injured it was merely another lesson learned. It was unlikely to end in anything other than cuts and bruises, things that any Mando’ade could handle so he doubted Rhia would complain.

Her first attempt, while executed correctly, was foiled by the horse moving and perhaps her own hesitance. She attempted again, this time hooking a foot over the silver’s back before he managed to shift away, leaving her to pull herself into a sitting position on his back. He smiled faintly, nodding at Rhia as she looked his way, conveying his satisfaction in her efforts so far. It was short lived, as Rhia did not wait for further instructions, instead she dug her heels into the silver’s flanks, prompting it to move into a brisk trot.

John noted that Rhia remained on the horses back, her grip on its mane secure enough. He mounted himself, placing both hands on the back of the beast before hoisting himself up into the mounted position. He pressed his heels into his own mount’s flanks and jostled into a trot.

“Ease up on your heels,” he called, calm as Rhia shakily made her way down one of the commonly used paths. “Lean backwards.” He trotted up next to her, the silver taking to John’s mount easily and making no fuss as they rode alongside each other.

John reached out a hand, settling it on Rhia’s shoulder and guiding her into a proper upright position, he also took the time to nudge her leg into the proper mounted position. “Don’t squeeze too much, just enough to stay on its back. Use your knees,” he instructed. “If you want to slow down, or stop, gently pull back the reins, don’t jerk them.” Trotting was always a harrying experience to someone new to horseback riding, easier in a saddle with stirrups than bareback, but a necessary evil as the Ischoron’s mainly forewent saddles in preference for bareback. Of course, if Rhia wanted a saddle, all she had to do was ask.