Post by Deleted on Jul 11, 2015 5:32:46 GMT
Name: Leonidas
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Frisian x (Thoroughbred x Hanoverian)
Genetics: Ee/Aa
Age: Six
Arrived in Tathra: Spring, Year I
Coat Color: Dark Bay
Height: 16.1hh
Eye Color: Brown
Personality: Calculated, Fiercely Loyal, Militant, Stoic, Brave, Troubled, Kind, Level Headed, Careful, Intuitive, Restless, Over-drawn, & Reserved.
History: Leonidas was birthed into a militant herd at a less than noble rank in less than noble times. Although his childhood was plagued by famine and war, the closeness he found in family, total dedication, and loyalty within the mess of life he'd been brought into, was something the colt would strive for in his future. He looked up to the "king" of his family before even his father, though the other stallion was a brave warrior as well, and his mother, though fierce in her own right, was again an after thought. By the time Leonidas was of age, he'd proved himself to the king first and foremost.
All things must come to an end, and then a new beginning for aging colts of all kinds, though, and now on his own, Leonidas has great plans for his future. The adventure is never over, but soon enough he would be weathered into a stallion of his own right. A leader of his own militant army.
Sample Post: A bright light flickered and illuminated the corner of the small New York apartment again this morning. The striking of a match, the lighting of a cigarette. Her burnt red hair was dangerously close to the hissing end of the match as it breathed in the oxygen around it, what little oxygen there was in this room. She couldn't help herself, blowing out smoke onto the match and snuffing out its life before placing the cancer stick back into her mouth. It was six A.M., ten minuets before her cranky alarm would begin its screaming, and still Anita was lifeless.
The woman had slender hands, pale and bare, her fingers long and nimble as they held the smoldering cigarette inches above the white bed sheets. Her right hand lifted itself to her forehead, lightly rubbing away a headache that had stayed with her from the day before. It's light pounding a reminder that she shouldn't drink. She had green eyes, laced in a cat-like black rim, and as they awoke to the new day they lazily drifted around the all too familiar mess of her studio apartment. Clothes lying here, drawers open there, a liquor glass sitting at the edge of her kitchen sink. The room was the mess that had become her life, and she loathed the very sight of it.
No noise signaled the end of her white and golden friends life, only her knowledge that he had gotten too short and needed to be smothered. She sunk back down into her nest of blankets, her knees coming up to her chin as she hid from the new day. She didn't ask for this, she didn't want to wake up every morning and see this. What's in it for me, she would think to herself. Why do I have to go through this life unhappy?
Deep down she knew she didn't have to. Her alarm screamed that it was time to get up and she slammed a fist down upon it before allowing her legs to escape their prison. She knew that all it took was a blade or a bullet, anything that starts with a "B", right? A light smile tugged at her under worked lips, but they refused the temptation and held onto their usual solemn look. She couldn't do it; Anita couldn't even humor herself with the thought.
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From a rating of one to ten [ten being the best], what would you rate MUSTANG?: 8.32
What do you suggest we do next/improve?: Gimmie a second to figure this one out....
Where did you find us?: my super sleuthing.
What would you like to be called?: Nala, Nalster, Nal-Dog.
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Frisian x (Thoroughbred x Hanoverian)
Genetics: Ee/Aa
Age: Six
Arrived in Tathra: Spring, Year I
Coat Color: Dark Bay
Height: 16.1hh
Eye Color: Brown
Personality: Calculated, Fiercely Loyal, Militant, Stoic, Brave, Troubled, Kind, Level Headed, Careful, Intuitive, Restless, Over-drawn, & Reserved.
History: Leonidas was birthed into a militant herd at a less than noble rank in less than noble times. Although his childhood was plagued by famine and war, the closeness he found in family, total dedication, and loyalty within the mess of life he'd been brought into, was something the colt would strive for in his future. He looked up to the "king" of his family before even his father, though the other stallion was a brave warrior as well, and his mother, though fierce in her own right, was again an after thought. By the time Leonidas was of age, he'd proved himself to the king first and foremost.
All things must come to an end, and then a new beginning for aging colts of all kinds, though, and now on his own, Leonidas has great plans for his future. The adventure is never over, but soon enough he would be weathered into a stallion of his own right. A leader of his own militant army.
Sample Post: A bright light flickered and illuminated the corner of the small New York apartment again this morning. The striking of a match, the lighting of a cigarette. Her burnt red hair was dangerously close to the hissing end of the match as it breathed in the oxygen around it, what little oxygen there was in this room. She couldn't help herself, blowing out smoke onto the match and snuffing out its life before placing the cancer stick back into her mouth. It was six A.M., ten minuets before her cranky alarm would begin its screaming, and still Anita was lifeless.
The woman had slender hands, pale and bare, her fingers long and nimble as they held the smoldering cigarette inches above the white bed sheets. Her right hand lifted itself to her forehead, lightly rubbing away a headache that had stayed with her from the day before. It's light pounding a reminder that she shouldn't drink. She had green eyes, laced in a cat-like black rim, and as they awoke to the new day they lazily drifted around the all too familiar mess of her studio apartment. Clothes lying here, drawers open there, a liquor glass sitting at the edge of her kitchen sink. The room was the mess that had become her life, and she loathed the very sight of it.
No noise signaled the end of her white and golden friends life, only her knowledge that he had gotten too short and needed to be smothered. She sunk back down into her nest of blankets, her knees coming up to her chin as she hid from the new day. She didn't ask for this, she didn't want to wake up every morning and see this. What's in it for me, she would think to herself. Why do I have to go through this life unhappy?
Deep down she knew she didn't have to. Her alarm screamed that it was time to get up and she slammed a fist down upon it before allowing her legs to escape their prison. She knew that all it took was a blade or a bullet, anything that starts with a "B", right? A light smile tugged at her under worked lips, but they refused the temptation and held onto their usual solemn look. She couldn't do it; Anita couldn't even humor herself with the thought.
----------------------
From a rating of one to ten [ten being the best], what would you rate MUSTANG?: 8.32
What do you suggest we do next/improve?: Gimmie a second to figure this one out....
Where did you find us?: my super sleuthing.
What would you like to be called?: Nala, Nalster, Nal-Dog.
