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Post by ».d.r.e.a.m. [ღ] on Oct 17, 2009 15:12:28 GMT 1
Concerning the Basics;
Name; DreamWeaver
Nickname; Dream
Age; Three
Gender; Mare
Breed; Arabian x Quarter Horse x Paint x Rocky Mountain Horse
Tribe; Eternal Darkness
Reading the Appearance;
Color; White
Mane Color; Brown, white and black
Tail Color; Brown, white and black
Eye Color; Icy blue
Scars; None
Markings; Chestnut overo splashes
Height; 14.2 hands
Weight; 900 lbs
Build; Athletic Arabian
Overall Appearance; Holding an Arabic appearance, I normally have an arched serpentine and highly held plume. With two large audits, normally found plastered in their graves, and two sapphire orbs that can seem irresistable. A dished tiara, and normally dialated nostrils make up my facades. A petite form, standing at merrily fourteen three, and slim, long limbs. Tresses flow from their joining point in my serpentine to the upper limb joint of my forelimbs. Plume scrapes the topography, and licks my hocks. A picture of perfection, yet an attitude that doesn't match. A forelock that, when straightened, goes just above the nostrils. Yet the foretresses usually curve to cover one sapphire orb, the other azule surface to gaze out at the unknown.
Examining the Mind;
Personality; In the beginning of her life, DreamWeaver would've made the perfect light, neutral, or dark. Being orphaned at such a young age simply meant her clay hadn't been set. As chance would have it, she ended up in the possession of two darks, hence the start of her molding. They created within her a sense of loyalty to those who helped her, the quality of respect, and, eventually, belligerence. They, like many others, had failed to tame the beast that raged within, once created. Like a domino effect, DreamWeaver became a tiny little malicious fae. Looking into the loyal side, Dream hosts a love for the little foals who walk the Earth, yet as soon as they grow, she expects them to be able to handle themselves without her. She manipulates others emotions freely, and quite enjoys doing so to get what she wants. Mainly power, for what dark mare isn't just a little power crazy every now and again?
Likes; manipulation, deception, toying with others emotions, being the underdog, winning
Dislikes; being undermined, losing, being used, falling into others traps, foals
Habits; DreamWeaver has a reputation for making others think she's a weak link, then showing her true colors to shock and surprise opponents.
Pros; not very emotional, honest
Cons; deceptive, tricky, brutally honest
Secrets; It isn't the power she wants, it's gaining it that's the thrill...
Further Detail;
Mother; Sata
Father; Tronde
Siblings; Blood Rose
Offspring; Tombstone's Revenge & Tempest
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 my dame, 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 my sire's mouth, and it was the first time I got a good look at him.
His body was the darkest of browns, his mane the lightest flaxen. Not another color graced his body, and his long locks swayed in the breeze. On his muzzle was the blood of my mother, his eyes of dark brown glaring down at the mare. I will find her, and you will die. Those weren't his exact words, yet that was all my mind could make out. One mighty leg lifted, striking Sata's side harshly, and the mare fell to her side. Another leg raised, the stallion was now rearing. 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 I'd ever hear, but not the last.
The stallion's nostrils flared, his deep brown eyes glaring about the clearing. I lay stock still, not a muscle moving, my breath held, until the muscular stallion disappeared. Many moments later, my wobbly legs lifted the minuscule hide of myself, petite hooves carrying me to the side of Sata. I didn't understand, my muzzle pushing against her side, willing her to wake up, to say everything was fine, that it was a joke. Three days of life, and my mother was gone. I knew she wouldn't rise come the sixth day, and I felt weak, ever so weak. When the wolves came, they dragged my mothers limb body away, and I made to follow, until the fangs of the beasts flashed before my eyes. With a squeal, I'd turned sharply, and fell....
I tumbled down an embankment, my sides throbbing with aches. My ears fell to my head, and I made no attempt to rise. A slight snort came from my muzzle, my eyes remained sealed. Locks swayed, though short, in the breeze, my flanks sunken in, my ribs showing clearly. So young, so malnourished. A fate I wouldn't have come to should my father have found me. Slowly, my legs unfolded, pain striking every fiber of my body as I struggled to stand, and weakly walked. A stallion, the blackest of manes, a golden body, greeted me, and I was soon adopted by the beast. He showed me no discipline, life was a free game for me. Borgon was his name, and he was mine. I'd tell him what to do, and he'd do it without a minutes hesitation. It was love, I'd say, love for his adopted daughter.
However, a new mare came to become his lover. Lucky, a pure Quarter Horse, white in color. She stole my dad's heart, became lead of the herd. I resisted her efforts to tame me in vein, she wouldn't break my spirit. I 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 my sibling, Distemper, who was the darkest of colts I'd ever come across. He had a blood bay color, a charcoal hued mane, and he was diabolical, like me. Together, we'd slain many foals, driven horses to insanity, slayed like there was no tomorrow. There was a price on Distemper's head, not mine, 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 me. He delivered the news that Distemper had fallen, destroyed while protecting me from a force I didn't know. I was drawn into denial, a yearling now, without my beloved sibling, my partner in crime. On one such occasion, I crossed paths with Rendition, a black colt, who like me, had been adopted into a foster home. I'd fallen head over hooves in love with the colt, and he did with me. We were together for a while, though some bad connections had been made at times, and we were enemies at others. But always we returned to the cutest couple. That is, until the one thing happened that ended it all. That Thestral Lord, Nightshade, force bred me, and a filly was born. She died of malnourishment, I didn't want anything to do with her, and Redemption didn't think too highly of that.
I'd crossed paths with many wolves, and wolves didn't scare me until this one encounter. The beast lunged out at me, his fangs catching my leg, ripping the tendons inside, forever damaging the leg from the inside, though a scar doesn't meet the eye. Infection had set in, I'd been dazed like a drunk, unknowing of what I was doing. With the help of a mare, and Rendition, I'd made it through, to stand at where I am today. The wolf, however, is not so lucky. I'd killed him in that battle, the battle that almost got me sent to live with humans so I could heal. He'd payed the price for that bite, but I'd payed a painful one as well.
At two years of age, I'd lost many that I held dear. Rendition and I never met again, we'd strayed on different paths. I, dark, and he, neutral. Crimson died a death apart from me, a dear little friend of mine, whom I hadn't met in a while before the death. Fool's Pride, a little colt who was obsessed with me, had also left us in life, he in death, to follow the steps of his sister, who's name I can no longer recall. Maudit fell before the power of Avanti. Curse Avanti, I must kill him someday. Borgon and Lucky I haven't heard of in months, I do believe they as well have passed on. Nightshade disappeared after loosing his crown, though I hear he is trying to regain the title. Spork and Spartan fell to my wrath, both to be killed by my power and my power alone. There are others, yet I never learned their names, and quite frankly, didn't care.
It doesn't end there, however. I continued to roam from land to land, seizing all titles that went with it. Upon Windborne, I was dubbed Queen of the Jetty Alliance, due to my ruthless fight against Rebirth, whom I've left as Queen once more, upon leaving those grounds. The lands of the Bosses, I'd been the Supreme Queen, the leader of all alliances, and not only one as so many usually are. I've lost my fair share of battles, as well. just goes to show no one's unbeatable. The rest, however, I also forget, as when years go by, things tend to disappear alongside it. There were the werewolves I befriended, more that I'd killed, others I'd defeated in a brawl, but not another love... or so I thought.
Upon straying into a new land, the Scarred Warrior's land where the Feared One called Spiritspawn ruled, I challenged the Friesian brute for a battle to the death for the title. Alas, he was too good, and an offer was made that I declined. Later on, I went to meet him, and seeing as how powerful he was, devoted myself to his services. He'd have none of that, he said I was too good for that. We became lovers, shared two foals - Tempest and Tombstone's Revenge, twins, Tempest now deceased, as is Spiritspawn. That's where my love circle lies, but my story doesn't end there... it's still being written.
Other; N/A
Code template created by Dyzz
Name; DreamWeaver
Nickname; Dream
Age; Three
Gender; Mare
Breed; Arabian x Quarter Horse x Paint x Rocky Mountain Horse
Tribe; Eternal Darkness
Reading the Appearance;
Color; White
Mane Color; Brown, white and black
Tail Color; Brown, white and black
Eye Color; Icy blue
Scars; None
Markings; Chestnut overo splashes
Height; 14.2 hands
Weight; 900 lbs
Build; Athletic Arabian
Overall Appearance; Holding an Arabic appearance, I normally have an arched serpentine and highly held plume. With two large audits, normally found plastered in their graves, and two sapphire orbs that can seem irresistable. A dished tiara, and normally dialated nostrils make up my facades. A petite form, standing at merrily fourteen three, and slim, long limbs. Tresses flow from their joining point in my serpentine to the upper limb joint of my forelimbs. Plume scrapes the topography, and licks my hocks. A picture of perfection, yet an attitude that doesn't match. A forelock that, when straightened, goes just above the nostrils. Yet the foretresses usually curve to cover one sapphire orb, the other azule surface to gaze out at the unknown.
Examining the Mind;
Personality; In the beginning of her life, DreamWeaver would've made the perfect light, neutral, or dark. Being orphaned at such a young age simply meant her clay hadn't been set. As chance would have it, she ended up in the possession of two darks, hence the start of her molding. They created within her a sense of loyalty to those who helped her, the quality of respect, and, eventually, belligerence. They, like many others, had failed to tame the beast that raged within, once created. Like a domino effect, DreamWeaver became a tiny little malicious fae. Looking into the loyal side, Dream hosts a love for the little foals who walk the Earth, yet as soon as they grow, she expects them to be able to handle themselves without her. She manipulates others emotions freely, and quite enjoys doing so to get what she wants. Mainly power, for what dark mare isn't just a little power crazy every now and again?
Likes; manipulation, deception, toying with others emotions, being the underdog, winning
Dislikes; being undermined, losing, being used, falling into others traps, foals
Habits; DreamWeaver has a reputation for making others think she's a weak link, then showing her true colors to shock and surprise opponents.
Pros; not very emotional, honest
Cons; deceptive, tricky, brutally honest
Secrets; It isn't the power she wants, it's gaining it that's the thrill...
Further Detail;
Mother; Sata
Father; Tronde
Siblings; Blood Rose
Offspring; Tombstone's Revenge & Tempest
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 my dame, 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 my sire's mouth, and it was the first time I got a good look at him.
His body was the darkest of browns, his mane the lightest flaxen. Not another color graced his body, and his long locks swayed in the breeze. On his muzzle was the blood of my mother, his eyes of dark brown glaring down at the mare. I will find her, and you will die. Those weren't his exact words, yet that was all my mind could make out. One mighty leg lifted, striking Sata's side harshly, and the mare fell to her side. Another leg raised, the stallion was now rearing. 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 I'd ever hear, but not the last.
The stallion's nostrils flared, his deep brown eyes glaring about the clearing. I lay stock still, not a muscle moving, my breath held, until the muscular stallion disappeared. Many moments later, my wobbly legs lifted the minuscule hide of myself, petite hooves carrying me to the side of Sata. I didn't understand, my muzzle pushing against her side, willing her to wake up, to say everything was fine, that it was a joke. Three days of life, and my mother was gone. I knew she wouldn't rise come the sixth day, and I felt weak, ever so weak. When the wolves came, they dragged my mothers limb body away, and I made to follow, until the fangs of the beasts flashed before my eyes. With a squeal, I'd turned sharply, and fell....
I tumbled down an embankment, my sides throbbing with aches. My ears fell to my head, and I made no attempt to rise. A slight snort came from my muzzle, my eyes remained sealed. Locks swayed, though short, in the breeze, my flanks sunken in, my ribs showing clearly. So young, so malnourished. A fate I wouldn't have come to should my father have found me. Slowly, my legs unfolded, pain striking every fiber of my body as I struggled to stand, and weakly walked. A stallion, the blackest of manes, a golden body, greeted me, and I was soon adopted by the beast. He showed me no discipline, life was a free game for me. Borgon was his name, and he was mine. I'd tell him what to do, and he'd do it without a minutes hesitation. It was love, I'd say, love for his adopted daughter.
However, a new mare came to become his lover. Lucky, a pure Quarter Horse, white in color. She stole my dad's heart, became lead of the herd. I resisted her efforts to tame me in vein, she wouldn't break my spirit. I 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 my sibling, Distemper, who was the darkest of colts I'd ever come across. He had a blood bay color, a charcoal hued mane, and he was diabolical, like me. Together, we'd slain many foals, driven horses to insanity, slayed like there was no tomorrow. There was a price on Distemper's head, not mine, 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 me. He delivered the news that Distemper had fallen, destroyed while protecting me from a force I didn't know. I was drawn into denial, a yearling now, without my beloved sibling, my partner in crime. On one such occasion, I crossed paths with Rendition, a black colt, who like me, had been adopted into a foster home. I'd fallen head over hooves in love with the colt, and he did with me. We were together for a while, though some bad connections had been made at times, and we were enemies at others. But always we returned to the cutest couple. That is, until the one thing happened that ended it all. That Thestral Lord, Nightshade, force bred me, and a filly was born. She died of malnourishment, I didn't want anything to do with her, and Redemption didn't think too highly of that.
I'd crossed paths with many wolves, and wolves didn't scare me until this one encounter. The beast lunged out at me, his fangs catching my leg, ripping the tendons inside, forever damaging the leg from the inside, though a scar doesn't meet the eye. Infection had set in, I'd been dazed like a drunk, unknowing of what I was doing. With the help of a mare, and Rendition, I'd made it through, to stand at where I am today. The wolf, however, is not so lucky. I'd killed him in that battle, the battle that almost got me sent to live with humans so I could heal. He'd payed the price for that bite, but I'd payed a painful one as well.
At two years of age, I'd lost many that I held dear. Rendition and I never met again, we'd strayed on different paths. I, dark, and he, neutral. Crimson died a death apart from me, a dear little friend of mine, whom I hadn't met in a while before the death. Fool's Pride, a little colt who was obsessed with me, had also left us in life, he in death, to follow the steps of his sister, who's name I can no longer recall. Maudit fell before the power of Avanti. Curse Avanti, I must kill him someday. Borgon and Lucky I haven't heard of in months, I do believe they as well have passed on. Nightshade disappeared after loosing his crown, though I hear he is trying to regain the title. Spork and Spartan fell to my wrath, both to be killed by my power and my power alone. There are others, yet I never learned their names, and quite frankly, didn't care.
It doesn't end there, however. I continued to roam from land to land, seizing all titles that went with it. Upon Windborne, I was dubbed Queen of the Jetty Alliance, due to my ruthless fight against Rebirth, whom I've left as Queen once more, upon leaving those grounds. The lands of the Bosses, I'd been the Supreme Queen, the leader of all alliances, and not only one as so many usually are. I've lost my fair share of battles, as well. just goes to show no one's unbeatable. The rest, however, I also forget, as when years go by, things tend to disappear alongside it. There were the werewolves I befriended, more that I'd killed, others I'd defeated in a brawl, but not another love... or so I thought.
Upon straying into a new land, the Scarred Warrior's land where the Feared One called Spiritspawn ruled, I challenged the Friesian brute for a battle to the death for the title. Alas, he was too good, and an offer was made that I declined. Later on, I went to meet him, and seeing as how powerful he was, devoted myself to his services. He'd have none of that, he said I was too good for that. We became lovers, shared two foals - Tempest and Tombstone's Revenge, twins, Tempest now deceased, as is Spiritspawn. That's where my love circle lies, but my story doesn't end there... it's still being written.
Other; N/A
Code template created by Dyzz