Welcome to Hickstead, home to both Seven Oak Stables, and Blue Acre - two rival stables. Both offer opportunities for their clients to reach the highest level of excellence. Each stable differs from the other, so choose wisely and never forget, loyalty is everything... Meanwhile as the stables battle it out, there's trouble brewing at the university. Be careful, if you don't pick a side you may get caught in the cross-fire...
This is an chilled out rpg with a super friendly and relaxed atmosphere! Remember to sign up with your characters full name in all caps and don't forget to do your claims! Thank you and Welcome, we've been established since 10th March 2009 but unfortunately have had to close guest view of our boards due to multiple sites ripping off our hard work, such a shame! Come chat to us in Discord before joining if you like!.
This was probably very stupid of her. After all, there had been a fucking warning sign posted on the outskirts of these buildings. She had also heard whispers and echo's of Darran "Daz" Picard's cold attitude and deadly games, like he was the British version of American Psycho. But Sabine Radley had to see for herself the self imposed King of Hickstead's streets, and she fucking hated gang bullies, especially ones with stupid names like "Daz". So she walked on right by that warning sign like it was nothing more than a kitten poster, quickly shuffling through the eerie streets while she carried a heavy messager bag with ammo of choice. The other kids she had meant told her she was being crazy, that it wasn't worth her time. But the young teenager knew all too well the realities of gang life and how left unchecked, it could overrun and take over. Sure, the people with nice warm homes and jobs and food would be safe except maybe for when they were visiting Starbucks, yeah she heard that story, but what about the likes of them living on the street?
She had seen it, she witnessed the brutal underground of Dublin and gang warfare, she saw what it did to people, did to her father as he rose the ranks. She had even made it half way through initiation before coming to her senses on how wrong it all was, and that no righteous sense of 'family' was worth it if there was ugly crime involved. Or maybe Sabine had been stupid then also, turning away from the royalty that she could have been in the Dublin underground if only she could have stomached it. Since clearly, her mom hadn't wanted nothing to do with her once she straddled the line, and while her father had loved her, he was checked out half the time on booze to even realize that she was there or not there. So here she was in Hickstead, only to discover that the same ugly kind of life that reeked in Dublin could be here in a cute, little quaint town where people just worried about whether their ponies were pretty enough.
Her feet came to a stop in front of a wall. Blue green eyes darted around quickly before dropping her bag, spray paint cans rattling. Sabine grabbed one and quickly went to work, sticking simple since she didn't have all the time in the world. Her WORD OF CHOICE was simple, and the opposite of Daz before following underneath with a classic 'RADS WAS HERE' followed by heart and some XOXOs, because she wasn't fucking dumb enough to put down her first name. Taking a step black, she quickly admired her work. And then, she heard a sound. She was not alone. The young teenager quickly through everything into her bag now, not bothering to sip it back up before bolting. But she only made it a few feet before abruptly stopping, spotting a figure in the shadows, "Shit."
Daz was having a day of it, and his patience was wearing thin. A couple of the younger lot were fucking about, and with a migraine pounding behind his eyes, Daz's tether was thin enough, but every playful screech the idiots gave was enough to make him load his gun and cock it. "One more peep. One more fucking peep, and the next one to make it is target practice and a wasted bullet." His voice wasn't loud, he never needed to be loud or to shout; on the rare occasion he did, they all knew things were in deep shit. He lounged on the ratty sofa in the common area of the warehouse, watching as one by one their faces fell solemn and they hung their heads. Good. He didn't smirk, he really was in a foul ass mood, and it got the point across better when he didn't look amused by it afterwards. They dispersed, all of them filing out through the make shift metal sheet for a door and likely pairing off into the rooms to fuck about instead. Good.
"Daz..." Daz let out a heavy sigh, gritting his teeth as his head lolled back to hit the dusty cushion. It was never ending some days. He opened his eyes in a glare that could melt the flesh off most men and leveled the look on his minion. "What." He ground out. If it was something stupid, that bullet was still available. The gun was no longer cocked, the safety switch was on, but it still sat warm in his hand, the muzzle resting across his thigh in a familiar manner. The guy cringed as he looked at Daz. "Some girl is out front... tagging the house." He sighed. How pathetic. But it had to be dealt with. "What idiotic would be so foolish... suicidal perhaps but too cowardly to do it themselves.." He mused, shaking his head. "Disrespectful." It couldn't be let to slide, and he pushed himself to his feet, jerking his chin at the kid, "Move along. I'll handle this one." He could have sent a minion, but he felt that on this occasion they could deal with meeting the boss.
He shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans. He didn't need it to scare the shit out of someone. His face was usually enough, if his stature didn't help. Tall and broad, fit and strong, coupled with his unfriendly and downright dangerously unhinged demeanour it wasn't hard to know you needed to run when you saw him. It didn't take him long to head outside, and he made no effort to hide himself, though naturally he was good at stealth from the way he'd grown up. He watched the girl for a moment with a raise of an eyebrow. "Shit." That was the understatement of the century. "Your artwork could do with some improvement." He said, his voice low as he stepped out of the shadows, stalking toward her. "I don't recall commissioning this peice of shit." He waved a hand toward the unimpressive, pathetic grafitti she'd so carefully constructed on his home. "I look forward to returning the favour." It wouldn't be hard to find out where she came from, and tagging his home was absolutely asking for her to lose hers...
She watched as the figure stepped out of the shadows and into the light now - like a fucking monster from the underbelly of hell. So this was Daz Pricard. Sabine couldn't lie to herself, upon looks alone, she could see why the other street kids were in fear with him. He was a cold looking guy with looks that could kill. In fact, it looked like he was aiming one of those murderous looks at her right now, "Your artwork could do with some improvement. I don't recall commissioning this piece of shit." Her blue green eyes narrowed, a slight curl coming to her lips and nose as he insulted her artwork. Although the young woman remained rooted to the spot, she refused to back down. Not yet at least, "Well, I needed somewhere to practice." If truth were told, Sabine really hadn't expected the man himself to come out here to greet her - she had expected some little terrified minion. She supposed that's what she got for playing with fire though and now she had to make sure that fire didn't incinerate her.
The other thing that pissed her off about this situation was the the fact that she hadn't even registered that someone spotted her. And here she thought she had been so careful, she hadn't even saw a soul. Apparently they were hidden everywhere which was a thought that was eerie in itself, "I look forward to returning the favour." And there it was - the threat, the hidden meaning hiding in plain sight. Just like Daz. She wondered how he managed to survive out here not to get picked up by the cops. The police department was terrible if that was the case. Sabine would have to remember that for the future, for now, she'd stall on her homelessness, "Cutting to the chase already to threaten me? Do you have some place to be?" The young woman just watched him closely, the back of her brain racking and stacking escape plans because she may need them at a moment's notice, "I have to say, I am kinda surprised the king of the underground Hickstead was willing to grace me with his presence. I would have thought I was too small fry to warrant such an appearance." Wasn't that the fucking truth.
He could practically smell the fear coming off her - some would say that kind of shit was impossible for a person, but Daz hadn't been human in years. You needed humanity for that, and some sort of soul, that of which he'd been lacking since a young boy. He could though, as a man that lived off the baser instincts, who spent his days relying on his gut and his ability to read body language, it was surprisingly easy to know how people were thinking and feeling, even when they attempted to conceal things - when they thought they were good at hiding their secrets. People were too civilised these days, they didn't understand what it meant to be below that, to return to half animalistic ways of life. It amused him when people believed them to be above him, that people called him the low life or the scum for the way that he lived, whilst they sat in their box of a house, doing jobs that made them miserable, lying about how happy they were and content, cheating on their wives and husbands, bitching about their friends to other friends behind backs. At least he was honest; he never pretended to be anything but who he was, however terrifying and sadistic that might be.
The narrowing of her eyes was dangerous. It suggested attitude. He didn't appreciate attitude. He liked to beat it out of people. It was often coupled with disrespect and he didn't appreciate that either. He noticed that she didn't step back either, not as he stalked into her personal space as if he owned it - which in this area, he damn well did. "Well, I needed somewhere to practice." A slight quirk of an eyebrow was all he responded with, turning his head again to inspect her shoddy work. It was an insult to her that he did - the turn of his head exposed his neck, insinuating to her he saw her as no threat to him. It wasn't a move he made in front of certain people. The neck was a vulnerable place, liable for choking or for slicing and reliving a person of their life force. He should know, it was a favourite spot of his when attacking. "That's what school is for." He muttered, his voice even, but still no less unimpressed. His warehouse might look like a piece of shit to some, but it was his home, and he didn't like the defacing of it.
"Cutting to the chase already to threaten me? Do you have some place to be?" Daz rolled his eyes, what a predictable response. As if he was going to, what? Not threaten her? Give her a warning first? He was not a 'three strikes and out' kind of guy. "You're stupid enough to be here, you clearly need it spelt out to you." He didn't bother assuming intelligence if people were idiotic enough to ignore the warning sign out front. "I have to say, I am kinda surprised the king of the underground Hickstead was willing to grace me with his presence. I would have thought I was too small fry to warrant such an appearance." Daz tilted his head, a lion honing down on his antelope. He wondered how fast she could run, and whether she would put up much of a fight. "Call me curious for wondering what little rat was pathetic enough to try and get my attention in this way." He took a small step forward, "That is why you're here after all, for attention. Well, sweetheart, you've got it." He licked his lips, his voice lowering.
He must have thought that she was some sort of killer when he turned his head to look at her work, leaving him exposed for the open. But Sabine knew better, the man was daring her to do something stupid such as attacking him. It was disrespect and bait all rolled up into one. The teenager knew that playbook well, not from Daz himself, but from her Dad. It was a tactic that he used back home with his own gang, and she watched it in action and was taught as such. But Sabine wouldn’t stooped to such a level as her dad and she wouldn’t be stooping to Daz either. Unfortunately, it just left her in a predicament, “That’s what school is for,” he muttered under his breath to her response.
Now it was her turn to quirk an eyebrow, “School?” she asked, almost startled, “You don’t strike me as the sort of person who would preach the importance of school work.” Wasn’t the guy who robbed Starbucks and ruled with an iron fist by fear and intimidation? What the fuck did he know about school? In the back of her mind, Sabine knew everyone started somewhere. It’s not like she could judge, here she was living out on the street. The difference between the two of them was that she hadn’t resorted to violence yet…and maybe she had an annoying conscience.
Daz rolling his eyes at her response was hardly a surprised, Sabine figured it would take more than that to get under his skin, “You're stupid enough to be here, you clearly need it spelt out to you." Now it was her turn to roll her eyes, “Classic.” She muttered under her breath. The teenager wasn’t sure why he thought insulting her intelligence would be something of a burn. Maybe it was something that he could get away with for his scared little minions, but Sabine felt like it was an old trick ripped out of the Gang Leader 101 hand book. Unfortunately, it seemed as if her big mouth might have gotten her in trouble though. There was a shift in the older man as his head tilted now as he gaze down at her, it remaindered her of a hungry big cat. She could feel her self-awareness skyrocket several levels now.
“Call me curious for wondering what little rat was pathetic enough to try and get my attention in this way. That is why you're here after all, for attention. Well, sweetheart, you've got it." She could have handled him stepping into her space more, but that lick of the lips and calling her ‘Sweetheart’? That got her. The teenager could barely control her face, certain something crossed between a grimace and a gag flashed across her face as she caved and took a step back. A sign of fear. If she could kick herself in the face, she would have for being so easy to manipulate just then. He was going to see her as all bark now. She had came here to show that not all street kids were going to bend to his fear mongering, but Daz had gotten her in his cross hairs with one stupid lick of his lips, “Sweetheart? I don’t think I’m your type, let alone your age bracket,” she growled back, her hands tightening on the strap of her bag. Sacrifices would be made soon, “I just wanted to see what the big bad Daz Pricard was all about. And boy, am I unimpressed.”
“School?” Daz turned the sharp gaze of a hunter back to the young girl. “You don’t strike me as the sort of person who would preach the importance of school work.” He rolled his eyes and gaze a small snort of derision. As if he gave a shit about school, but it was the only place some people were worth being. "There's no hope for most of you - you might as well go and join the prissy little world of education." Because if they weren't worth anything to him, he didn't give a shit what they did but they didn't belong in his world. He valued street smarts and quick thinking, but academic intelligence came in handy. He had a few in his gang that were good with shit nobody else was; being good at science, maths and technology came in useful for a gang. You can do the working out as to why.
He caught her expression and his lip curled slightly. Displeased. “Classic.” He took another step forward, his fingers curling into fists at his side. "You're not being brave, or clever. You're a stupid fool." And that was putting it politely. She'd come here thinking she was some kind of rebel, or hero - go and tag Daz's house, stand up to the big bad scary man. Did she really think he had any kind of issue slitting her throat and leaving her in the dirt to be found by the rats? His fingers flexed again and he rolled his shoulders slightly, popping the muscles, feeling them loosen. He was always ready for a fight, always one second away from it, but this was the kind of fight he would win without a thought, without the need for a warm up. The kind of fight he enjoyed when he was in the right mood because it meant he could play it out however he felt like, he could control it, manipulate it, cause the amount of pain he wanted to cause. Some days, he wanted a tough fight, he wanted that rush of adrenaline to tell him he might not come out of it alive, he wanted his own pain. Today, he wanted to make an impression on this girl, and he knew it would be as easy as pie.
A step back, a victorious smirk appeared - he didn't care for the look on her face. He wanted her to be disgusted. “Sweetheart? I don’t think I’m your type, let alone your age bracket,” He'd rattled her, and his smirk widened slightly as he took another step forward, following her. "You don't know a damn thing about my type." He didn't care for a lot of things, Daz took what he wanted when he wanted it - she was not of interest to him though. Not in that way. “I just wanted to see what the big bad Daz Pricard was all about. And boy, am I unimpressed.” He sighed and glanced away again for a moment, musing over what he felt like doing. "Interesting enough, I have no care for whether you are impressed. You mean nothing. Not even small fry..." He shrugged, "But I am bored.. and I think I'd quite like to play a game. As you had fun playing your own game with my home."
She ignored his little comment about 'joining the prissy little world of education.' His word, not hers. While Sabine was tempted to point out that if she had a family of her own, she would have been part of that world already. But she didn't. And that was a weakness she didn't need to expose. Unlike Daz with his so called 'family', the teenager had no one in her life. There was nobody to bail her out if she got in trouble, heck, she didn't even have a friend on the streets and that certainly wasn't the best situation to be in. Maybe she really should have thought out her stupid ass plan a little bit more before coming here - as Daz Pricard himself was pointing out. He also seemed to be having a jolly good time at reminding her at how utterly stupid she was coming here on his turf and defacing it. There would be no mercy, he was making that clear.
Sabine hadn't expected mercy though, she hadn't expected anything other than to get away with it and boy had that backfired on her. Apparently, her face wasn't doing her any favors either, because no matter what expression she wore, Daz appeared to be insulted by it, "You're not being brave, or clever. You're a stupid fool." There it was again! 'You fool'. 'You're stupid'. 'How fucking dare you.' She did the unthinkable, she rolled her blue green eyes in response, "Yeah yeah, I know. You're beginning to sound like a broken record here." What the fuck, Sabine?! Where is your filter? But it didn't matter. She couldn't take back those words now, just like how she couldn't take away the fact that a few minutes later, big bad Daz Pricard had gotten to her with his own little comments. And she was both angry and afraid over that. The ugliest combination of emotions to have when you had to think on your feet because your life depended on you to be level headed and smart.
How she hated that victorious smirk he now wore on his stupid face. If only she had been brave enough to deck him in the face and wipe it off. Instead, Sabine found herself willing to not take another step back, "You don't know a damn thing about my type." Now that made her arch an eye brow, "Whatever you say man." She replied back, not feeling stupid enough to make a comment about the underground comments she heard about him and a certain second in charge - if that's what Caden Hunter actually was. Given that Sabine hadn't met the guy, her own little sixteen year old brain decided the jury was still out on that one. There were bigger fish on the horizon, judging by that musing look on the man's face as he looked off into fucking outer space for a moment, "Interesting enough, I have no care for whether you are impressed. You mean nothing. Not even small fry..." He shrugged, "But I am bored.. and I think I'd quite like to play a game. As you had fun playing your own game with my home."
Awh fuck. Well, here it was. Truth be told, Sabine wasn't surprised by this outcome. She knew it was coming, it was just a matter of when. It was time to think quick and fast on her feet. Her shoulders adjusted just slightly, rolling as if stretching. But she had a plan, a stupid ass plan, but a plan nonetheless. Blue green eyes narrowed though as she stared at him, "Why do I get the feeling that you're a Hunger Games sort of man?"
The quiet stretched, it wasn't something Daz minded all that much, the quiet, so long as it was something he instigated himself. So long as he was in control of the conversation - which he usually was - he could stand there and stare a person down until they crumbled. Rolling her eyes though? That was a capital offence. "Yeah yeah, I know. You're beginning to sound like a broken record here." Anger boiled beneath his skin. It was quick to rise, it always was. It was hard to meet someone with a shorter fuse, he was just surprisingly good at holding on to the leash when he needed to. Nobody took the piss out of him and got away with it, nobody made shitty quips or remarks like that and got away with it. Not even little lost girls. "Oh girlie, you are so far out of your depth you can't even see the shore ." He gave a low chuckle, if only to rein himself in for the moment, to hold back the fist he wanted to connect to her face.
"Whatever you say man." Daz shrugged it off with a tilt of his head. No matter, if she really thought she had a clue what she was playing with then she'd soon find out how wrong she was. More fun for him. He watched her like predator watches prey, sizing her up. He'd already taken a fair guess at how fast she was, how well she'd know the area, which way she'd be likely to run, whether she was one that would stand and fight or leg it, how strong she was and how decent a fighter, whether she had a weapon or tricks up her sleeve. He was always analysing someone in that way when they talked to him. Always more animal than human. "Why do I get the feeling that you're a Hunger Games sort of man. He had no idea what that was and didn't care to either. "You can keep your hunger games." He muttered, and then he struck.
Surprisingly fast for his bulk, he naturally had a lean, lithe shape from his years on the street and was good at striking out before people even saw it coming. He made to grab her by the throat, his other hand drawing a knife from his pocket with the other hand. "You want to roll your eyes at me, girl, I'll remove them both so you learn your lesson " He growled, the anger freed from its cage, surging through his veins like it's own damn power source. He raised the knife, the point aimed toward her left eye as his lips curled into a savage grin that made it clear he enjoyed this, that he relished in this. He'd done things like this before and he would happily continue to do it.
Most of the time, Sabine Radley was rather smart about keeping her mouth shut. Growing up in the type of family that she had been born to made that a wise survival skill to have, and yet, now, she just couldn't seem to keep her trap shut. Every word, every threat out of Daz Pricard's mouth seemed to set her off like some yappy little dog, and Sabine couldn't fathom why it made her so angry. Was it because he was a bully? Was it because he was looking down on her? Was it the fact that he reminded her of her past? Too many questions and hardly any answers to come by. It was taking its toll on her mentally though, her eyes and wits failed her even as she clocked his weight shift - within a matter of seconds, Sabine felt fingers clamping down around her throat as the force that is Daz slammed her into the wall.
The young woman barely winced, the adrenaline taking over now as blue green eyes found herself staring at a blade, flicking back and forth between that ugly face and the shiny knife that would surely cost her an eye: "You want to roll your eyes at me, girl, I'll remove them both so you learn your lesson." Think Sabine, think! What did your father teach you? Daz Pricard wasn't the only person who rolled with a gang, she was raised by the head of one on the mean fucking streets of Dublin, Ireland. That stupid, fucking crazy grin on the young man's face only added fuel to the fire, and Sabine finally saw red, "Fuck. You." She managed to choke out, hawking up bile and spit at Daz before her knee came up hard into the crown jewels of any man.
Upon impact, her head twisted to the side to save her eye, but not her skin as she could feel the cool metal sliced in from cheek to nicking her ear. No time to worry, she thought to herself, get off the x. X marks the spot, and it was still a dangerous place to be in. An ugly sound escaped her as she managed to break free, nearly toppling over own two feet.
He closed his fingers around her throat, squeezing just enough to remind her he meant business, that he wasn't playing around. Too many people these days were all talk and no action, and he was bored of it. Too many people thought they could get away with being assholes, or talking shit to him. He had no problem teaching them some respect. They needed to learn that, and this kid needed to learn that. The knife inched closer, he was taking his time, being an asshole about it to make her sweat, to make her fear. Perhaps he'd take both eyes, just for the fun of it. See how she disrespected him then, sightless as well as stupid.
Sometimes they fought back, especially with a knife to their face, but it wasn't often. A lot of them were too scared, a lot of them froze like the cowards they were, and they stood there and let it happen. He was used to a struggle, and preferred it. So when she ground out a "Fuck. You." and spat at him, he almost congratulated her. Almost - because whilst he admired some spirit, he didn't appreciate the knee to one of his favourite appendages. With a grunt, he released her and lowered his hand. It was by grace of God and the fact he was used to pain - though perhaps not there - that he didn't drop to the ground. It was enough though, enough to let her out of his hold.
He spun, fast but not fast enough to catch her. His outstretched hand grasped only air as she escaped from him. He narrowed his gaze, watching her disappear. He could have chased her, he quite enjoyed a hunt and regularly took part in th event of them. The thrill of the chase, the prey desperate to escape. He didn't think time, instead he let her go. He'd find her again, when she was least expecting it. He glanced down to the knife in his hand, smirked as he caught sight of the vivid red - so he'd cut her at least. Well, at least she'd started her lesson on respect, even if it wasn't over yet.
