dream!
Junior Officer of "On your way"
[M:360]
Posts: 53
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Post by dream! on Jun 19, 2010 22:32:27 GMT -5
Concerning the Basics; Name; Tempest Nickname; Temp Age; Four Gender; Mare Breed; Arabian x Quarter Horse x Paint Horse x Rocky Mountain Horse x Friesian Alliance; Dark
Reading the Appearance; Color; Chestnut Mane Color; Flaxen white Tail Color; Flaxen white Eye Color; Brown Scars; None Markings; Four stockings and a blaze Height; 14.3 hands Weight; about 900 lbs Build; slight; arabic Overall Appearance; Temp is made of all things petite. Her draft blood seems to have avoided her generation, except for the slight feathering surrounding her white stockinged legs. Her hide is a shinning chestnut, covering a slightly stockier-than-normal Arab body. Her skull has the typical dish of the Arab, a blaze running from her forehead to her petite muzzle. A high-set tail falls from her hindquarters, the locks nearly white and extremely curled. This extension barely reaches the ground, while the hair adorning her neck is equally curled and extends to the beginning of her leg joint. Her forelock tumbles down her face, usually covering at least one brown eye, and falling off to the side of her face, ending just below her cheekbone.
Examining the Mind; Personality; Like her mother, Tempest tends to be a manipulative little hag. She bends words, twists sentences, until they suit her and sticks to their new sense like a pittbull. She believes things should be her way... or no way at all, and thus, she's power hungry. Like a bitch on her period, Tempest will stop at nothing short of throwing a rage to deploying her feminine charms to weasel her way into power. Once she's there, she clings to it with all her will. Her man, she believes she owns him. She'll attempt to wrap him so tight around her will that she can turn him any which way she chooses, but prefers those who can retain some sense of dignity. Tempest, you see, likes power. Powerful stallions. Powerful positions. Powerful mates. Likes; `one-night stands `stallions `power `night `stars `the moon `lakes Dislikes; `commitment `low ranking `mares `most foals `flowers Habits; `tends to be rather slutty `is always looking for a chance to rise into power Pros; `easy `a good time `commitment-free entertainment Cons; `isn't there in the morning, unless she has a mate `can't exactly be trusted by her mate, unless he's in high power `looks for 'taken' stallions as a challenge Secrets; `even though it's obvious, she won't come out and say it. she wants power, and is always looking for a way to get there. once she's there, she's content... for the most part.
Further Detail; Mother; DreamWeaver Father; Spiritspawn Siblings; Tombstone's Revenge - twin Genocide - younger brother Offspring; None Other Relations; None Past; Born into a rather... cynical... family, Tempest had all of the... advantages... of being an heir. Her father; the detested Feared One. Her mother; the fabled DreamWeaver. At birth, her father knew she was destined to reach great heights, though he was rather reserved in this. He had wanted a male heir. DreamWeaver, however, pushed for her daughter to be more favored than her son. Thus, Tempest was named heir over her sibling. Factors, you see, always take a toll. From the moment she was declared heiress, the little filly began to plot. Just like her mother. Except she was careless, fearless, and foolish. Her plots often landed her in trouble, while her brother slid easily from reprimand simply because he wasn't the special one. The twins were inseparable, one silent, and one loud as an ape. I think it's easy to guess who's who, but I'll fill you in just in case. Dearest Tempest is the one who can't keep her mouth shut. But I'm straying from the story. Here, let's get back on course...
In the lands of the Scarred Warrior, Tempest knew no one liked her or her family. She knew they were hated, feared, and were going to be put to death if the chance came. So she staked everything. Leading her inseparable twin throughout the lands, Temp sought the danger, the destruction, the sweet pangs of lust and death. At merrily six months, she'd learned a lot through observation... though she had never attempted to kill. Except for that one day on the cliff with her brother...
Oh, what a day that was. There they were, the Arab-built filly and her Friesian-styled brother, standing side by side as they watched the lands below. A few words were tossed, and then it began. Tempest, defending her father's honor, and Tombstone, just trying to get a rise out of her. It worked rather well. She aimed a kick at his skull, making contact and driving her bigger brother to the ground... but alas, as we all know, a weanling can't do much damage. A scar is all the colt was left with, his reminder of his sister's fury. A bit of time spent unconscious as well, but that's actually a gift; it spared him from hearing his sister's voice. Mother dearest, however, didn't find it as amusing as Tempest did. She collapsed at her son's side, cradled him the best a horse could, and whimpered until he awoke. Oh well.
The next remarkable thing to occur in the young mare's life was the disappearance of her father. The day the lands would do battle with him. Oh, my my my. Mother, left to fend for herself against a bunch of raging horses. My sister and I, watching from behind her, determined to help this painted Arabian that was our mother. They spared her, as well as us, with one condition; we leave. That wasn't a problem, either. A few days later, an earthquake split the ground and changed life as we knew it. Many died. Mother stayed behind to mourn for father, and await his return. Tempest and I left to find a land we could rule as our father had. Of course, the last memorable thing in her life was the day I thought I killed her. If I had, however, you wouldn't be listening to this tale. As far as I know, she's here, but what she's been up to until now, that's far from my grasp...
The Relations; Friends; Allies; Acquaintances;
Vladimir - we just met, so i don't really know you. what can i honestly talk about besides the physical chemistry we seem to share?
Loathed; Hated; Enemies; Hit list;
Crush; Lover; Mate; Owner;
Father; Spiritspawn - i hate you with every fiber of my being. how could you leave us at such a crucial time? Mother; DreamWeaver - you used to be something, mother... now you're pathetic. Siblings; Tombstone's Revenge - we use to be inseparable. then you tried to kill me. tough love, eh, little brother? Genocide - little brother, i've yet to meet you. Sons; Daughters;
Herd Life; Herd; None Position; loner Mate; any available stallion Posts;
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baby can you d a n c e [mia] Posting Status; available
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dream!
Junior Officer of "On your way"
[M:360]
Posts: 53
|
Post by dream! on Jul 14, 2010 10:29:40 GMT -5
Concerning the Basics; Name; Tombstone's Revenge Nickname; Tomb Age; Four Gender; Stallion Breed; Arabian x Quarter Horse x Paint Horse x Rocky Mountain Horse x Friesian Alliance; Dark
Reading the Appearance; Color; Black Mane Color; White Tail Color; White Eye Color; Blue Scars; Hoofprint in the middle of his blaze Markings; Four sabino stockings, a blaze, and a patch on his withers [both sides] Height; 16.1 hands Weight; about 1150 lbs Build; bulky; Friesian Overall Appearance; This young stud hosts a large bulk, thick and bulky skull, and muscular limbs. His pelt shines black in any light that strikes it, though white drips from his shoulder blades down to his leg joints, an obvious reminder of his cross breedings. Porcelain creeps up his legs, to his knees and hocks, like the stud had stepped into white paint and the result remained. The last speck of white starts in a large blob in the center of his skull, rolling down his facial features to end in a snip. The one peculiarity of this marking is the scar that runs smack dab in the middle of the beginning, a mark from his childhood left from his twin sister. Rolling and wavy locks of a light star-colored hue extend from a rounded heart shaped rump, to drag the ground. Lengthy mane of the same staining extends to his leg joints, and his forelock normally covers the scar and the main point of his blaze, unless curved over like commonly done. Eyes of a rich seductive blue peer out from beneath such locks, always watching, always alert.
Examining the Mind; Personality; That would have to be something that changes quite consistently. In the beginning, he was mentally deranged, perhaps more so now that he is alone in his body. The stallion craves bloodshed and anguish, finds delight in others pain, relishes in the fading of life from one's eyes... yet the brute leaves it as just that. A mutilated corpse, for the buzzards to eat and to announce to all others the deed that's been done. Quite cynical, this boy is, belligerent as well. Traits all inherited from his parents themselves. His sister? She's rather dead to him. If he sees her, it's pretty obvious that his first action will be to attempt and mutilate her pretty little body.
Likes; `anguish `silence `merciless deeds `night `death `massacre `mutilation Dislikes; `commitment `ranks `company `those who think they deserve power `those in positions Habits; `refuses to admit love exists `strikes first, asks questions later Pros; `good for those who are suicidal `silent `won't threaten anyone's rank. ever. `can be trusted if he promises something Cons; `murderous `isn't likely to answer questions `easily provoked Secrets; `unlike others in his family, Tombstone isn't concerned with power and ranks. His main concern is death. While he's out murdering or attempting to murder others, he's searching for someone worthy enough to overpower him and kill him. To die to someone stronger than him would be the ultimate gift.
Further Detail; Mother; DreamWeaver Father; Spiritspawn Siblings; Tempest - twin Genocide - younger brother Offspring; None Other Relations; None Past; Born into a rather... cynical... family, Tombstone had all of the disadvantages of being the twin of an heir. His father; the detested Feared One. His mother; the fabled DreamWeaver. At birth, his father knew his sister was destined to reach great heights, though he was rather reserved in this. He had wanted a male heir. DreamWeaver, however, pushed for her daughter to be more favored than her son. Thus, Tempest was named heir over her sibling. Factors, you see, always take a toll. From the moment she was declared heiress, the little filly began to plot. Just like her mother. Except she was careless, fearless, and foolish. Her plots often landed her in trouble, while her brother slid easily from reprimand simply because he wasn't the special one. The twins were inseparable, one silent, and one loud as an ape. I think it's easy to guess who's who, but I'll fill you in just in case. Dearest Tempest is the one who can't keep her mouth shut. But I'm straying from the story. Here, let's get back on course...
Tombstone, the silent, brooding twin, followed in his sister's shadow. He protected her, though no one knew it. They always thought it was the other way around. His life was rather unremarkable... until the day Tempest gave him his scar. You see, the two were playing by their mother. Tomb hadn't expected Temp to get so rough, and thus hadn't prepared himself to dodge the blow that knocked him unconscious. In this dark world, he came to know a rather insane side of him. This side of him saw monsters, feared shadows, and talked to dead bodies. This side of him wouldn't last past the age of two. That side aside, when Tombstone awoke, he became a mute. He no longer felt responsible for his sibling, and thus, adventured on his own. Then he fell in love.
A pretty silver mare with a black mane and tail, Nausicca. His father didn't approve of their relations; deemed her a distraction. Forbidden to see her, Tombstone became more and more determined. Their love lasted until the insane side of Tomb took over, and Sicca saw a side she didn't like. Realizing the colt was unstable to her, she ran off. That's when his insane side departed as well. Perhaps it's connected to love, and perhaps it will return when he feels those familiar emotions stir within him. All that's known now is this; he's become nomadic, with one purpose. To kill. He doesn't fear death, part of him secretly wants to die... so in the mean time, he kills those who cannot kill him.
The Relations; Friends; Allies; Acquaintances;
Loathed; Hated; Enemies; Hit list;
Crush; Lover; Mate;
Owner;
Father; Spiritspawn - father... you never saw me as much. i should say i regret to say the same of you, but then, i'd be lying. Mother; DreamWeaver - stay strong, mother. Siblings; Tempest - are you ready to die yet, sister? Genocide - Genny, you're turning out too much like them... Sons; Daughters;
Herd Life; Herd; None Position; loner Mate; any vulnerable mare Posts;
open none reserved
closed Posting Status; available
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dream!
Junior Officer of "On your way"
[M:360]
Posts: 53
|
Post by dream! on Jul 14, 2010 10:48:28 GMT -5
Concerning the Basics; Name; DreamWeaver Nickname; Dream Age; Six Gender; Mare Breed; Arabian x Quarter Horse x Paint Horse x Rocky Mountain Horse Alliance; Dark
Reading the Appearance; Color; White Mane Color; White Tail Color; White Eye Color; Ice Blue Scars; none Markings; medicine hat, croup paint splash, chest paint splash Height; 14.2 hands Weight; about 900 lbs Build; slight; Arabic Overall Appearance; Beauty finds its way into every creature, be it an insect or a mammoth, everything has it's own unique attractiveness to it. This mare has always relied on hers to get her through life. The maiden possesses a delicately and petite crafted Arabic body, slim and slender without obvious signs of muscle as with most Arabians. She possesses the typical dished skull, wide-set and large eyes, small fluted ears, and flared nostrils at the end of a petite muzzle. Her neck arches in the traditional Arabic way, while her croup sits high up from her ancestry. If it wasn't for the fact she was painted, one would be under the impression she was pure. Yet the white body is claimed by a gentle chestnut that flows from beneath her stomach and up her croup, the only patch on her lower body. Her skull has the rare Medicine Hat marking, meaning that chestnut creeps from her ears and around the top of her skull yet not going beyond the space just above her eyes. Her muzzle is tainted pink, while her eyes gleam a healthy and bright ice blue. The insides of her ears, strangely, are black-lined. the mare's locks are white, though her tail has a peculiar brown streak running through it, suggesting that perhaps she's a red dun paint.
Examining the Mind; Personality; Life has a rather curious way of molding someone like clay, leaving none out of it's reach and changing just about everyone. In the beginning, DreamWeaver was hardened to the world. Careless toward other's benefits and needs, she'd gone on to take what she wanted when she wanted it - even if that meant by force. She was belligerent and didn't follow the whims of others, never once heeding words of wisdom. Then, things changed when she fell in love and experienced the heartbreak she'd purposefully left others to feel. Call it an epiphany if you will, but from there on out, she'd vowed to change her manipulative ways. She cried out for her sensitive side to be heard and revealed, forced kindness to come back to the surface. Sure, occasionally there may be times when she looks at things with the old bitter eyes of that two year old Dream, but at three, she's begun the wonderful morphing of clay. From a dragon to a pegasus, that best defines the drastic change. A soft spot, especially for foals, has begun to develop, but perhaps it was always there and hidden. Either way, with the errors of her ways revealed to her, it's certain that there's a more trustworthy and gentle mare coming along the way... with her usual old cravings for power steaming faintly beneath the surface. Rumor has it, however, she's returning to her hard sarcastic self.
Likes; `love `ranks `appearances `beauty `Spring `foals `overcoming odds Dislikes; `vulnerability `those who think they're better than her `mares `those who try to steal the object of her affection `being considered perfect Habits; `falls in love without realizing it `clings to those of her past with a vengeance Pros; `honest `gentle to those she trusts `loyal Cons; `manipulative `sneaky `always plotting Secrets; `even though he's gone from her life, she still clings to the memory of SpiritSpawn as though it's all she has to keep her alive.
Further Detail; Mother; Sata Father; Tronde Siblings; Blood Rose - half sister Offspring; Tombstone's Revenge, Tempest, Genocide Other Relations; None Past; A small, fragile body lay silently in the grass. White stained brown, the painted colors showed vibrantly in the lush, tall blades that surrounded the form. A beautifully dished Arabian styled head rest against the ground, eyes of the purest, iciest blue concealed behind brown eyelids. A short, puffy tail was motionless on the ground, equally short mane stood up on the arched neck like a Mohawk, not a forelock to be told of. The grass folded up, like a cave, hiding the small body from view completely, so only sight could be seen from within and not the outside. What stood behind the shelter of a grass nest was something the poor youth should never have witnessed.
Just outside the nestled body of mine was her dam, Sata. Her elegant Arabian head lowered to the ground, her nostrils flared as her breathing was deep. Her dapple grey hide shown dully, her lengthy tail draped behind her in defeat. Lengthy forelock rolled straight down her face, her brown eyes closed. Blood was poured over her body, emerging from huge cuts, kicks, bites, everywhere over her body. Her legs spread apart for better balance, with every ounce of strength she had left, her voice rang out. You'll never find where I've hidden her, nor will I tell you. Her voice was strained, like it hurt her to talk. A maniacal laugh echoed from DreamWeaver's sire's mouth, and it was the first time the little babe would get a good look at him.
His body was the darkest of browns, his mane the lightest flaxen. Not another color graced his body, his long locks swayed in the breeze. On his muzzle was the blood of her mother, his eyes of dark brown glaring down at the mare. I will find her, and you will die. Although those weren't his exact words, those were the ones that would play through her mind whenever the lamb remembered the incident. One mighty leg lifted, striking Sata's side harshly, and the mare fell over. Another leg raised, the stallion was now rearing and with all his force, his weight slammed down on the fragile skull, and a sound so violent rang out in the air, a scream, cracking bones. Death. The first sounds of death that she'd ever hear, but not the last.
The stallion's nostrils flared, his deep brown eyes glaring about the clearing. The filly lay stock still, not a muscle moving, her breath held, until the muscular stallion disappeared. Many moments later, her wobbly legs lifted the minuscule frame of a newborn, petite hooves carrying her to the side of Sata. She didn't understand, as her muzzle pushed against Sata's side, willing her to wake up, to say everything was fine, that it was a joke. Three days of life, and her mother was gone. She knew she wouldn't rise come the third day, and the orphaned lamb felt weak, ever so weak. When the wolves came, they dragged Sata's limb body away, and the filly made to follow, until the fangs of the beasts flashed before her teary eyes. With a squeal, she'd turned sharply, and fell....
She tumbled down an embankment, sides throbbing with aches. Her ears fell to my head, and I made no attempt to rise. A slight snort came from her muzzle, eyes remained sealed. Locks swayed, though short, in the breeze, flanks sunken in, my ribs showing clearly. So young, so malnourished. A fate she wouldn't have come to should her father have found her. Slowly, her long legs unfolded, pain striking every fiber of her body as she struggled to stand, and weakly walked. A stallion, the blackest of manes, a golden body, greeted me, and soon she adopted by the beast. He showed her no discipline, life was a free game for the filly. Borgon was his name, and he was hers. She'd tell him what to do, and he'd do it without a minutes hesitation. It was love, love for his adopted daughter.
However, a new mare came to become his lover. Lucky, a pure Quarter Horse, white in color. She stole her dad's heart, became lead of the herd. Dream resisted her efforts to tame the flicka in vein, she wouldn't break her spirit. She tried everything to break her, to get her to leave Borgon. But she wouldn't. Finally, the mare had made one good move. She adopted a son, Distemper, who was the darkest of colts Dream had ever come across. He had a blood bay color, a charcoal hued mane, and he was diabolical, like she had begun to become. Together, they'd slain many foals, driven horses to insanity, slain like there was no tomorrow. There was a price on Distemper's head, not hers, because I was seen as an all too innocent baby girl, too angelic to do such a thing.
As time went on, the Thestral Lord, Nightshade, met her. He delivered the news that Distemper had fallen, destroyed while protecting her from a force she didn't know. She was drawn into denial, a yearling now, without her beloved sibling, her partner in crime. On one such occasion, she crossed paths with Rendition, a black colt, who like her, had been adopted into a foster home. She'd fallen head over heels in love with the colt, and he did with her. They were together for a while, though some bad connections had been made at times, and they were enemies at others. But always they returned to the cutest couple. That is, until the one thing happened that ended it all. That Thestral Lord, Nightshade, force bred her, and a filly was born. She died of malnourishment, as the filly didn't want anything to do with her, and Redemption didn't think too highly of that.
She'd crossed paths with many wolves, and wolves didn't scare her until this one encounter. The beast lunged out at her, his fangs catching her leg, ripping the tendons inside, forever damaging the leg from the inside, though a scar doesn't meet the eye. Infection had set in, she'd been dazed like a drunk, unknowing of what she was doing. With the help of a mare and Rendition, she'd made it through, to stand at where she is today. The wolf, however, is not so lucky. She'd killed him in that battle, the battle that almost had her sent to live with humans so she could heal. He'd payed the price for that bite, but she'd payed a painful one as well.
At two years of age, she'd lost many that I held dear. Rendition and her never met again, they'd strayed on different paths. She, dark, and he, neutral. Crimson died a death apart from her, a dear little friend of hers, whom she hadn't met in a while before the death. Fool's Pride, a little colt who was obsessed with her, had also left us in life, he in death, to follow the steps of his sister, who's name she can no longer recall. Maudit fell before the power of Avanti. Curse Avanti, the fool would one day fall. Borgon and Lucky she hasn't heard of in months, believing they as well have passed on. Nightshade disappeared after loosing his crown, though she heard he is trying to regain the title. Spork and Spartan fell to her wrath, both to be killed by her power and her's alone. There are others, yet she never learned their names, and quite frankly, didn't care.
It doesn't end there, however. She continued to roam from land to land, seizing all titles that went with it. Upon Windborne, she was dubbed Queen of the Jetty Alliance, due to her ruthless fight against Rebirth, whom she's left as Queen once more, upon leaving those grounds. The lands of the Bosses, she'd been the Supreme Queen, the leader of all alliances, and not only one as so many usually are. She's lost her fair share of battles, as well. Just goes to show no one's unbeatable. The rest, however, she also forgets, as when years go by, things tend to disappear alongside them. There were the werewolves she befriended, more that she'd killed, others she'd defeated in a brawl, but not another love... or so she thought.
Upon straying into a new land, the Scarred Warrior's land where the Feared One called Spiritspawn ruled, she challenged the Friesian brute for a battle to the death for the title. Alas, he was too good, and an offer was made that she declined, yet he spared her life. Later on, she went to meet him, and seeing as how powerful he was, devoted herself to his services. He'd have none of that, he said she was too good for that. They became lovers, though love never lasts. Upon a war that begun to show others displeasure with Spiritspawn's actions, the Feared One disappeared and left DreamWeaver to fight the battle alone. The Scarred Warrior became my number her priority, determined to return it to it's once buzzing glory, to have it as it was with the wars and the fear, but her efforts were all in vain. None feared her as they had Spiritspawn, nor were any committed to follow her. It was then she had realized she was beginning to fade, to lose her ability to hurt and be feared. She began to be more open than she had before, realizing just how much Spiritspawn's betrayal had hurt her. It was then that she also vowed to give up her mind games, and to try to be better, if that was at all possible of her.
The Relations; Friends; Allies; Acquaintances;
Loathed; Hated; Enemies; Hit list;
Crush; Lover; Grim Reaper - baby, I came back for you... Mate;
Owner;
Father; Tronde - ha. you're the first i've ever met that i can honestly say... i'm afraid of you. Borgon - daddy, i'll always be your little girl. even if i'm not actually your blood. i don't know why i grew so attatched to you... but i miss you. Mother; Sata - momma, i don't remember you... Lucky - i can't believe it. no matter what i did, you wouldn't leave my adopted father alone. Siblings; Blood Rose - good grief. go fall off a cliff, woman. Sons; Tombstone's Revenge - my little man. you always were different from the rest of us... but different tends to be a good thing. especially in this family. Genocide - my last gift from SpiritSpawn, Geno, you mean the world to me. you'll always be my baby... Daughters; Tempest - in the beginning, you were so much like me. now, you're the mirror image of my past. be careful, honey, i already learned... living like that means trouble.
Herd Life; Herd; None Position; loner Mate; none Posts;
open none reserved
closed Posting Status; available
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