The pale morning sun peaked determinedly through the heavy grey clouds that draped across the sky, thin rays of light casting down and gracing the brilliant green grass below with its warmth. There was a slight, bitter breeze in the air, but not enough to chill, or cause any real discomfort. Karen strode across the field at the back of her mansion, with an excited spring in her step she was struggling to contain. She was dressed in riding gear, a dark pair of jodhpurs and high riding boots, and her hair was tied back in a long, tidy plait.
Diego struggled along a few metres behind her. He was carrying two bulky brown saddle bags, and a large - suspiciously large - joint of meat. At the far end of the field, Diego eyed the large stable that they were quickly approaching, warily. Diego of course had seen the warshee - it was quite hard to miss one - when he'd been let out in the field, but so far, he'd managed to get away with not having to go anywhere near it. He'd assumed that Karen had her own stable staff, not that he'd ever seen anyone else in the house, and it safe to say that Diego wasn't at all thrilled that he was going there now.
Karen pushed open the large wooden doors and opened the stable door wide so that Diego could enter easily, and quickly clopped her way across the large, airy open space inside, lined with a smooth cobblestone flooring, towards the stall itself which housed the warshee.
"You can place the bags down over there, Diego." Karen said softly over her shoulder, gesturing towards the far corner, where all the warshee's tack was immaculately kept. "I want you to come and
meet Maloch!"
A warshee is a lizard-like species, a little crocodilian in its posture, in that its body and tail are very long, and its back very flat and straight. The warshee in question must have been at least thirty feet long and eight feet tall, as he straightened his legs and stared down at Diego, with large, suspecting eyes. He made a strange sound as Karen reached up and gently stroked down the bridge of his snout, resembling something between a hiss and a purr, vibrating deep from within his bulging throat.
A warshee's feet are a little more reptilian than crocodilian, with wide splayed feet. Coupled with its long legs, a warshee actually makes an excellent galloper, better than you'd probably give one credit for, considering their lumbering size. While most warshees are one or a mix of a dark shade of green, orange or brown, they can actually come in a wide variety of colours. In this instance, the warshee's smooth scales and ridges were flexed with bright, beautiful sea greens and shining blues.
In contrast to the crocodilian-like body, a warshee's head actually resembles that more of a snake, long, round and smooth, forming a nice little tip at the end of its nose, with two long slashes for nostrils.
The warshee was watching Diego curiously, cautiously. He had shifted his body so that he stood in between him and Karen, and now a verberating hiss was emanating from inside his chest, deep within his core. Diego eyed him back, narrowing his eyes and unconsciously puffing his chest out. As the warshee leaned in though, still hissing quietly, his forked tongue suddenly flicked out from his mouth, and tickling the top of Diego's head, and Diego couldn't help but stumble back. Karen laughed as the warshee shook his head like a dog with an itch and stepped backwards, then lowered his head down and towards Karen, who proceeded to scratch his chin.
"He's decided you're a friend, Diego! He says you're safe, but he is judging you." Karen had stopped laughing, but a light-hearted smirk still remained on her face. "Maloch's giving me the look right now. He's saying, 'who's this silly lizard that's scared of a li'l ol' warshee like me?'"
"Little?!" Diego glared across the stable at them, and couldn't help but think that Karen might actually be right; there wasn't much emotion to be gauged from the warshee's black, beady eyes, but there was definitely some attitude in the it's demeanour. He swung his long crocodile tail gently across the stable, directly towards Diego, who had to jump out the way to avoid getting knocked over. "He's huge! His stable is bigger than most people's houses!"
"Oh, don't listen to him, Maloch." Karen crooned and moved her hand, so she was scratching the warshee's forehead instead. "He's just jealous of your beautiful long tail." The warshee's back foot started to thump against the ground as a deep, crackly purr rumbled from his belly. "Yes, you like that don't you, don't you!"
Diego watched the two in absolute bemusement. He'd never seen anyone act in such a way around a warshee before, nor seen a warshee act so... calm. Although, what most bewildered him was Karen; he'd never ever seen act this way before. Although she obviously loved her petshees - they were well looked after and had entire rooms in her house dedicated to playthings for them - she'd never quite fussed or crooned or shown them this much affection.
"Diego! Maloch's saddle is behind you, can you take it off the stand and pass it over to me, please?" Karen asked, still staring longingly into the warshee's large dark eyes. There was something about them, they seemed so void and expansive and... empty, that you could almost feel yourself get lost in them, if you stared for long enough... "Oh! And bring the meat joint with you as well!" As Diego turned to do as she asked, Karen straightened up and gazed out the open stable windows instead.
As can be imagined, a warshee saddle is enormous, as to go over their enormous bodies, and heavy too. While resembling a typical riding saddle, a warshee saddle is made of thick, heavy leather with lots of padding to prevent the rider from chafing. It's quite a bulky piece of equipment, and a little complex too, with multiple sets long buckled straps to secure the saddle underneath the warshee's soft belly, and straps to lock the rider's thighs in place as well, whilst also allowing enough manoeuvrability for the rider's calves and heels to guide the warshee, and flexibility for the rider to bounce in time with their mount's lopping strides. It's important that a rider ensures the straps are tight enough that they won't come loose, but also isn't too tight, and potentially hurt their warshee. The saddle itself also has quite a high back to it, to help position the rider and keep them comfortable; warshees are typically creatures of combat, used by the DA to carry their soldiers into battle, rather than being kept as pets, and the saddle's high back helps to support the rider when firing their weapons, and stop them from lurching about too much when a steady shot can be the difference between life and death.
At the front of the saddle, there are also a set of handlebars, which the rider can hold onto and lean over, a bit like a motorbike, if they wanted their warshee to break into a run.
Karen sighed and stretched as she stared out across the field, back towards her mansion. Her leather boots creaked as she flexed and straightened her legs. "It's been such a long time since I've been able to take Maloch out for a proper ride. I've been so busy with work, I think we both could use a good runaround... And of course, I've got the ever-watchful eyes of my wonderful neighbour Fairylin. I swear, every time I step out my front door, she's right there, watching my every move. The woman's so nosy! She's watching us right now!" Karen gestured towards where their two houses were. Without thinking, Diego stepped back into the doorway and peeked out; sure enough, he could actually make her out in the distance, Fairylin was standing at her juliet-balcony windows, and was staring directly at them.
"Diego!" Karen quickly ran over and pulled him back inside the stable, careful not to incriminate herself under Fairylin's gaze. "Could you be any less subtle?!"
"Whatever do you mean?! I am nothing if not a man of subtlety, Karen!" Diego protested with a teasing pout.
"Uh-huh." Karen rolled her eyes at him, but couldn't hide her small smile. "She's just been getting on my nerves so much lately, I feel trapped. I can't even go out and ride my own warshee."
"If anyone could look down their nose at a warshee, I think it would be Fairylin." Diego agreed.
"Mmm... Saddle, Diego!" Karen suddenly barked, and snapped her fingers at him impatiently. Diego frowned - a frown Karen didn't see, as she had turned her back, and was tending to the warshee once more - but he did as asked, and heaved the great saddle onto his shoulder and brought it over.
"Warshee's can actually get a lot bigger than this, you know." Karen continued, her demeanour shifting back as if she hadn't said anything at all. "Big warshees, and I mean big warshees, can grow to be over a hundred feet in length!" Karen spoke excitedly as she started rubbing some sort of gel across the warshee's belly.
