Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20160109004446/@comment-5543592-20160112004641

"What do you mean you could take on an entire army by yourself?"

The horse scoffed, it's upper lip flapping as it blew air through it.

"You don't even have arms!"

Whistles kicked the dirt with a frontal hoof, and stomped a bit, as if to show off his powerful muscles coiling and flexing underneath his skin and hair.

"See, this is why you need me.  We make the perfect duo.  You do your riding around thing.  You know, clip-clop, clip-clop.  I sit on your back and shoot people."

Whistles rolled his equine eyes.

"I take it back.  Your name isn't Whistles.  It's 'Inflated Packhorse.'"

The horse replied with a throat, trumpheting noise, which could be described as laughter.

"Un-huh." Crimson said, sitting back as the conversation died, and taking another drink from his waterskin... which was full of whiskey.