Post by dragon on Nov 8, 2010 13:07:13 GMT -5
Name: Satan
Nickname: Black
Breed:Lusitano
Gender:Stallion
Age:4
Season Born:early spring
Year Created:Year 1
Description: Solid black coat, mane, tail, and legs. Not another color mars his pelt. Lightning shaped scar down his jaw. His hide is as black as his soul. His mane is long and his tail thick and full. Hard souled hooves blend into exquisitely grown pillars before molding into hard muscled shoulders and haunches. Eyes black, but with a mischeivous gleam allow him to see his prey and finely curved thorns permit him to pinpoint his victims. Delicate nostrils flare large and wide to enable him to run down those he wishes to kill.
Weight:1200Ibs
Height:16.1
Personality: At least 100 words
What can I say besides evil? Well I'll try to break it down hmm...Satan is heartless in every sense of the word. Not even ruthless killers are given any special attention, that they would actually like anyways. He seeks power and ultimately wishes to reign over all of the horses to bring about a change in how things are entirely.
To those who know him he does have one small inkling of a soft spot. He wants and feels he needs a lady as ruthless as he to rule over other equines and he seeks her out. For some reason he believes he will know her when he sees her that she is the right one. Satan has never killed an innocent, rather instead his victims are all full grown adults and he won't discriminate against killing a mare vs. a stallion ever. Isn't that nice?
He's on his way to the top and there's no looking back for this demon, get in his way and he'll kill you he doesn't have to have a reason. Disrespect is weakness to him and he believes the weak should deserve to die.
History: At least 50 words
Satan was born to a gentle herd of horses in a far off land from here. His mother and father were leaders of the herd and cared and looked after all of them. For some reason an old nag placed a curse on Satan's mother and when her foal was born he was as evil as the nag had predicted. Fearing the worst they did their best to raise him as one of them, but he was not. Close to his fourth birthday the war between their peaceful herd and a larger more domineering herd was brewing and Chaos broke loose (that was the name they had given him to start with) and attacked his father's baronette stag in the heat of battle and the larger herd swarmed and proceeded to slaughter every individual in his herd. The scent of blood and fear met his nostrils and he went wild. No one was safe near him as he fought like a demon against every equine in his path. The war had his blood pounding and the excitement had hightened every one of his senses. At some point though the tide turned and the others drew back as their leader plunged through the thick of battle towards Satan who was completely unaware. At the last second he whirled around just in time to get a good kick to his head where a scar now zigzags like lightening down his jaw. Staggering backwards the stud charged him in his moment of confusion and hammered blow after blow on him. Satan could take no more and he reared and plunged for all he was worth and fought the demon as hard as he could. They were mirror images blurring together at times and there battle was so heated that the fighting around them ceased as the others watched in awe as the stallions went after eachothers throats with unnatural ferocity.
Unfortuneately Satan and Shetan (that was the other stag's name) were so focused on each other that as they clashed on their hind legs they fell off of the cliff into the waters below...
Coughing and sputter with a desperate need for air Satan stroked towards the surface when he finally broke the surface fresh air filled his aching lungs. His throat burned from the salt and his piercing scream as he and his nemesis had fallen at such a great hight. Pinning his ears he stroked hard towards the shore and as his feet touched ground he realized that he was no longer at his homeland. Instead this place held unfamiliar scents. Looking about for Shetan he did not see him, but he would never believe he was dead. On tired legs he traversed this new found land and when his coat had long dried he could take no more and lay down beneath a rotting tree to rest. He lay for two full days before he had the strength to get up. His wounds were somewhat healed, but they would take a while to do that.
Making his way through the trees he finally decided to claim this land and with it he would claim the mares and warriors to build an army and take control of the power to appease his hunger to wield it. Bracing his legs he threw back his head and uttered a piercing scream claiming the land as his and anyone in it. The wind whipped around him and hurled his cry through the entire forest as if it were his to command.
Sample Post: Only needed for one character
Part of the history
Picture:
C:\Documents and Settings\Library35\My Documents\My Pictures\theblack.jpg
Read more: forevermora.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=sp&action=display&thread=4#ixzz14iEmZvkh
Nickname: Black
Breed:Lusitano
Gender:Stallion
Age:4
Season Born:early spring
Year Created:Year 1
Description: Solid black coat, mane, tail, and legs. Not another color mars his pelt. Lightning shaped scar down his jaw. His hide is as black as his soul. His mane is long and his tail thick and full. Hard souled hooves blend into exquisitely grown pillars before molding into hard muscled shoulders and haunches. Eyes black, but with a mischeivous gleam allow him to see his prey and finely curved thorns permit him to pinpoint his victims. Delicate nostrils flare large and wide to enable him to run down those he wishes to kill.
Weight:1200Ibs
Height:16.1
Personality: At least 100 words
What can I say besides evil? Well I'll try to break it down hmm...Satan is heartless in every sense of the word. Not even ruthless killers are given any special attention, that they would actually like anyways. He seeks power and ultimately wishes to reign over all of the horses to bring about a change in how things are entirely.
To those who know him he does have one small inkling of a soft spot. He wants and feels he needs a lady as ruthless as he to rule over other equines and he seeks her out. For some reason he believes he will know her when he sees her that she is the right one. Satan has never killed an innocent, rather instead his victims are all full grown adults and he won't discriminate against killing a mare vs. a stallion ever. Isn't that nice?
He's on his way to the top and there's no looking back for this demon, get in his way and he'll kill you he doesn't have to have a reason. Disrespect is weakness to him and he believes the weak should deserve to die.
History: At least 50 words
Satan was born to a gentle herd of horses in a far off land from here. His mother and father were leaders of the herd and cared and looked after all of them. For some reason an old nag placed a curse on Satan's mother and when her foal was born he was as evil as the nag had predicted. Fearing the worst they did their best to raise him as one of them, but he was not. Close to his fourth birthday the war between their peaceful herd and a larger more domineering herd was brewing and Chaos broke loose (that was the name they had given him to start with) and attacked his father's baronette stag in the heat of battle and the larger herd swarmed and proceeded to slaughter every individual in his herd. The scent of blood and fear met his nostrils and he went wild. No one was safe near him as he fought like a demon against every equine in his path. The war had his blood pounding and the excitement had hightened every one of his senses. At some point though the tide turned and the others drew back as their leader plunged through the thick of battle towards Satan who was completely unaware. At the last second he whirled around just in time to get a good kick to his head where a scar now zigzags like lightening down his jaw. Staggering backwards the stud charged him in his moment of confusion and hammered blow after blow on him. Satan could take no more and he reared and plunged for all he was worth and fought the demon as hard as he could. They were mirror images blurring together at times and there battle was so heated that the fighting around them ceased as the others watched in awe as the stallions went after eachothers throats with unnatural ferocity.
Unfortuneately Satan and Shetan (that was the other stag's name) were so focused on each other that as they clashed on their hind legs they fell off of the cliff into the waters below...
Coughing and sputter with a desperate need for air Satan stroked towards the surface when he finally broke the surface fresh air filled his aching lungs. His throat burned from the salt and his piercing scream as he and his nemesis had fallen at such a great hight. Pinning his ears he stroked hard towards the shore and as his feet touched ground he realized that he was no longer at his homeland. Instead this place held unfamiliar scents. Looking about for Shetan he did not see him, but he would never believe he was dead. On tired legs he traversed this new found land and when his coat had long dried he could take no more and lay down beneath a rotting tree to rest. He lay for two full days before he had the strength to get up. His wounds were somewhat healed, but they would take a while to do that.
Making his way through the trees he finally decided to claim this land and with it he would claim the mares and warriors to build an army and take control of the power to appease his hunger to wield it. Bracing his legs he threw back his head and uttered a piercing scream claiming the land as his and anyone in it. The wind whipped around him and hurled his cry through the entire forest as if it were his to command.
Sample Post: Only needed for one character
Part of the history
Picture:
C:\Documents and Settings\Library35\My Documents\My Pictures\theblack.jpg
Read more: forevermora.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=sp&action=display&thread=4#ixzz14iEmZvkh
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