The Last Bull Ride

[MrGarden 295]

Spoiler

OOC: This is all a story post. A way for me to shelve my character in peace and add a bit of rp to it. If you haven't heard the news or got any letter do not metagame it!

YEAR 2069
Of the Age of Mankind.


 

The final Destiny. 

 

The tavern had long since quieted to a low murmur by the time Mauricio allowed himself to sit.

Candlelight flickered against the wood-paneled walls, casting warm gold across scarred tables and half empty mugs. Laughter lingered in distant corners, softened by drink and late hour weariness. The smell of spiced wine and smoke clung to the air.

He sat apart from the others, not in isolation, never quite that but in the way commanders do when they carry too much to fully join the noise.

A dark glass rested in his hand, untouched for several moments before he finally lifted it. The whiskey caught the candlelight like blood beneath flame. He rolled it slowly between his fingers, watching the surface shift.

Outside the window, the moon hung full and pale as his gaze drifted to it often.

Silver light spilled through the glass panes and brushed across his features, softening the severity of them. In that light, he looked less like a Knight and more like something older, something that remembered centuries instead of years.

He took a slow drink. The tavern door opened briefly, a rush of cold air slipping inside before fading again, he did not turn. He had felt colder winds.

His thoughts were not on war. Not fully.

They were on legacy. In his family’s traditions  the weight of honor carried from lands far across the sea. On oaths spoken beneath cathedral arches and desert skies. On the meaning of standing when others could not.

He traced the rim of the glass with his thumb. The moonlight brightened as a cloud passed. There was a stillness in him tonight, not peace, no, not quite that, but acceptance. As if something inevitable had already been decided.

He whispered softly, just loud enough for himself "Hoy es el día."

The word lingered in the air finishing the drink in one steady motion. And kept watching the moon.

 

When the tavern had emptied enough to no longer require his presence, Mauricio rose without ceremony.

He set a few coins upon the counter, then reached for his hat where it rested beside the bottles. The brim was worn, shaped by habit and years. He turned it once in his hands before placing it upon his head, shadow falling over his eyes.

Outside, the night greeted him in full.

His bull waited where he had left it, massive and steady, breath curling faintly in the cool air. Mauricio mounted without a word, the leather saddle creaking softly beneath his weight. The city gates loomed ahead, torches flickering gold against stone.

He did not look back. The hooves struck the road in slow, deliberate rhythm as they left the city behind.
Stone gave way to dirt. Dirt to grass, the walls faded into silhouette. The moon rode high above him.

Silver light spilled across his poncho, catching the deep folds of fabric and tracing along the edge of steel beneath. For a fleeting second, when he lifted his face to the sky, the starlight caught his eyes red glinting faintly like embers before dimming again beneath the brim of his hat.

The forest line approached, dark and patient.

As he passed beneath its edge, the sounds changed. Wind through leaves. Distant night birds. The steady exhale of the bull.

Then. . . A second rhythm, subtle and measured. It was not the wind.

Mauricio did not turn immediately. He let the sound repeat. Once, twice, letting it follow him.

He eased the bull to a stop in a small clearing where moonlight pierced through the canopy in pale shafts. The world felt suspended there, quiet, waiting. He knew he was far enough now. Far enough from the city, far enough from witnesses.

His gloved hand rested briefly along the pommel of his saddle, the time had come, slowly, he turned his head.

The stars reflected across the faint gleam of his armor beneath the poncho. The clearing seemed to hold its breath. For the briefest moment, the red in his eyes surfaced again  not anger, not hunger but certainty.

He did not reach for his weapon, simply poking into the dark. "Ya es hora." And waited for the figure to step forward. The trees shifted first, not loudly just enough.

Mauricio’s eyes adjusted without effort. Where the night was thick and shapeless to mortal sight, he saw movement between trunks. The outline of steel. The pale flash of a blade being repositioned. The breath of horses held back in shadow.

Not one. Several, the bull beneath him exhaled low, sensing it too.

From the dark edge of the clearing, a horse stepped forward, hooves pressing softly into fallen leaves. Its rider dismounted before the animal had fully stilled.

The leader walked into the moonlight with unhurried confidence, boots heavy against the forest floor. His face was partly shadowed, but Mauricio saw clearly the scar at the jawline, the tired eyes of a man who had killed before and would again.

The others remained in the treeline, watching. The leader stopped a few paces away.

He gave Mauricio a small, almost amused smile. "Well now…Capitáin, isn’t it?"

Mauricio did not move nor responded.

The leader tilted his head slightly. "Didn’t expect to find you riding alone at this hour. No escort. No banners."
He glanced at the bull. "Interesting choice of mount."

Mauricio 's voice was calm. "La noche no me preocupa."

The bandit chuckled. "No. I suppose it wouldn't."

He shifted his weight, resting a hand on the pommel of his sword.

“Funny thing about reputations. They say you’re hard to kill. Say you’ve walked away from worse than this.”

Mauricio’s red eyes glinted faintly as a cloud drifted from the moon.

"They say many things, but are you willing to find out if it is true or not?"

The leader studied him a moment longer then slowly raised one hand.

The subtle tension in the trees tightened.

Steel adjusted. Bows steadied.

But the leader waved them back with a lazy flick of his fingers.

"I’ll take this one." A murmur of protest from the shadows.

He didn’t look at them. "I said I’ve got him!" The forest quieted again.

He stepped closer into full moonlight now, boots crossing into the pale clearing. Close enough to see the faint reflection of starlight across Mauricio’s poncho. Close enough to notice, just for a second, the unnatural gleam in his eyes.

The leader’s smile thinned.

"So tell me, Capitáin. What brings a man like you this far from his walls?"

Mauricio held his gaze. Still mounted, unmoving. "All men must face their destiny." The wind stirred between them.

The leader’s fingers tightened slightly at his sword hilt. "And is that what this is?"

Mauricio slowly slid one boot from the stirrup. The bull shifted beneath him as he dismounted with deliberate calm, boots touching earth.

The clearing seemed smaller now. "Eso depende de ti."



The clearing held its breath.
 

The leader studied Mauricio more carefully now that they stood on equal ground. Moonlight carved sharp lines across both men, one draped in poncho and quiet authority, the other in road-worn leather and earned suspicion.

"You don’t look afraid." the leader said softly.

Mauricio removed his gloves slowly, finger by finger. "Fear is for those who doubt it."

A faint ripple of unease passed through the men in the treeline. They could not see what their leader saw, the way Mauricio’s eyes reflected light like an animal’s… or something older.

The leader exhaled through his nose."I’ve killed knights before."

Mauricio tilted his head slightly. "Yo también."

The wind shifted. For a moment, neither moved.

Then. . . 

Steel whispered free from its sheath. The leader drew first lunging at him, fast and direct, testing.

Mauricio stepped aside with unnatural precision. The blade passed so close it sliced the edge of his poncho, fabric drifting to the ground. He did not counterattack.

He was measuring. The leader turned sharply, striking again but heavier this time.

Mauricio caught the blade with his forearm guard. Sparks flashed. The impact echoed through the clearing.

From the treeline, tension spiked.

"Boss!"

"Stay back!" the leader barked.

Mauricio moved then, not with fury but with control.

He disarmed the man in three motions, twist, step, strike! The sword spun into the dirt several feet away. In one fluid shift, Mauricio had him by the collar, forearm across his throat, strength unmistakable.

He could end it now. The leader’s pulse thundered against Mauricio’s grip.

Mauricio leaned close, voice low enough that only he could hear. "Listen carefully."

The man struggled slightly, then stilled. "Tonight you win."

Confusion flickered across the leader’s face. Mauricio’s eyes glowed faintly in the dark. "The city needs a Capitáin who can fall. It needs to believe I am mortal."

The leader’s breathing faltered. "You’re mad!"

Mauricio’s grip tightened just enough to remind him who held power.

"No!" A pause "Estoy cansado de este acto."

Behind them, one of the bandits shifted. Mauricio’s head tilted slightly, he could hear the heartbeat of each man in the trees. Smell their sweat, their fear.

He released the leader abruptly and stepped back.

And did something unexpected. He lowered his guard.

The leader stared at him. "What are you doing?"

Mauricio spread his arms slightly, open stance. "Making it convincing."

The bandit leader hesitated, this was wrong, every instinct screamed it was wrong.

But pride… reputation… the chance to be the man who defeated the Capitaín…

Slowly, he retrieved his sword. Mauricio did not move, the blade pierced through his side, clean and deliberate.

His body jerked  not from pain, but calculation. He allowed himself to fall to one knee. Blood, dark and thick, spilled onto the forest floor.

The treeline erupted in shocked murmurs. The leader pulled the blade free, stunned by how easily it had entered.

Mauricio looked up at him. Even wounded… there was no fear.

Only something ancient. He leaned in for one final time.

"When you tell this story. Say I fought like a monster!" A faint smile touched his lips."And that I bled like a man."

His strength faded and visibly as he collapsed onto his side.

The moonlight caught his red eyes one last time dimming.

Silence. . . The bandits slowly emerged from the trees, staring in disbelief.

Their leader stood over the fallen Commander, chest rising fast.

He had won! He had actually won!

But as the men began to gather, and one reached down to check the body. A wind moved through the clearing, cold and heavy.

The horses began to panic."Boss!"

The leader turned. Mauricio’s body was still there. Then. It wasn’t.

Only blood remained dark against the earth and hoofprints leading nowhere.
Far above, clouds drifted across the moon. And somewhere deeper in the forest…Something moved.
 

 

After the blade had struck and the performance had been made convincing. The bandits withdrew with hurried breath and trembling pride.

They believed the story already.
When the forest reclaimed its stillness, he rose again.

Slowly. The wound had sealed enough for him to stand, though blood still darkened the soil. His hand pressed briefly against his side not from weakness, but from habit. The moon watched in patient silence as he walked deeper into the trees.

Far enough that even vampire sight could no longer see the clearing through the density of trunks and gathering mist, there, beside an ancient oak, he paused. From within his poncho, he withdrew folded parchment  already written. He had prepared them before leaving the tavern. The ink was steady, deliberate. No rushed strokes. No trembling lines.

Letters to those he loved.

To comrades who had stood at his side!
To a family whose traditions still lived in his bones!
To one or two who would understand more than the rest!

He did not weep but he allowed himself a long breath as he reread a final line beneath the moonlight. He folded them carefully and slid them into the leather pouch fastened to his bull’s saddle.

The great animal stood waiting, calm as ever, dark eyes reflecting starlight.

Mauricio rested his forehead briefly against the bull’s."Vuelve a casa, Pedro."

The bull exhaled softly, as if understanding. With a gentle turn, he sent him back toward the road, toward the city gates, carrying the letters that would confirm what the forest would soon whisper.

A fallen Capitáin! A heroic defeat! A monster slain!

The mist thickened as It rolled low across the forest floor, curling around tree roots and swallowing moonlight in pale veils. Mauricio stepped backward into it, poncho blending with shadow, red eyes dimming beneath the brim of his hat.

For one final second, the stars caught against the faint steel at his side.

Then, nothing.

No hoofprints, no sound, no lingering silhouette between the trees, only fog.

And the legend of a Capitaín who fought like a monster and bled like a man.

 

 

 

[TysCreations 458]

Spoiler

Mauricio shall be missed, rest well soldier 🫡

 

[LiliumDell 112]

Spoiler

Rest well, cowboy. 

 

[johnnydeath6 229]

"See you soon, Hermano." Thought a long dead Salazar from the seven skies

 

[Eliseth 134]

:sadcatcowboy: 

[LoxyTheReindeer 356]

Spoiler

o7 Mauricio. You were a real one.

 

[TaytoTot 1587]

Spoiler

What a good post, Garden. R.I.P. :(

 

[Ophi 258]

Spoiler

 

[Amesti 247]

Isabela sat on Alduun's docks, staring out at Viru. One arm curled around her baby, Lucelle, while her free hand tapped on the dock. The hand that betrayed her kin. This was the only way to keep back the tremors. She wondered how long it would be till they found him. She wondered how long till she saw his head on a pike. What she didn't know was that he had already gone, not to be found.

She had received no letter. Why would she? She was no longer kin in his eyes. She would have been sad to know her father had left behind no words for her. Even though her actions had torn him apart, deep, deep down, she still loved her dad, still revered him.

Her hand clenched. A spasm wracked her arm, and she gave a pained hiss. Lucelle cried out at such sudden movements and sounds. Her eyes trailed down to the babe, and her face softened a moment. When she looked up again to Viru, she blew out a huff. "I'll do better." She muttered before rising with her child and walking off. Perhaps she didn't know it fully, but this was her goodbye to him.

[Jadeforever 73]

Catalina waited and waited and waited some more she received no letters or saw no trace of her padre. "Where could he be, I looked everywhere" Sighs as she paced around feeling worried "Yarelis and Thal will be so heart broken if anything happened to him..I need him, he promised" runs a hand in her hair "But..promises do get broken" she mumbled and then tried to think how to handle the situation