Post by O.b.s.i.d.i.a.n on Nov 28, 2006 22:23:52 GMT -5
Picture:
-coming soon-
Name: Obsidian
Gender: Stallion
Age: 7
Color: pure black
Breed: Friesian/ Shire mix
Height: 18.5 hh
Affiliation: Dark
Personality: Obsidian has a heart as black as his coat, and there is no chance that will ever change. He kills anything he wishes, and standing much higher than many other stallions, he has a huge ego and sense of immortality.
History: Not much in known about the dark, black hearted sire of Tsume. He was born in captivity, a mistake from the beginning. When only a yearling, and wild mustang came up beside the fence, prancing just out of the young colt's reach. Unable to stand the stallion taunts and disrespect, Obsidian finally broke free, chasing the mustang right off a cliff. Something dark corrupted the colt in the year or so afterward, and so when a young Rocky Mountain mare caught his eye, stealing away his heart, he couldn't resist her tempting pull. With disgust he watched the foal he had sired for a week before he finally decided to kill the pitiful creature. Tsume's dam fled with her foal, keeping just out of Obsidian's reach for a year before he at last caught up with her, cutting her down and scarring Tsume who he now hunts endlessly.
Sample Post:
+Can't you hear the ringing 'cause for you the bell tolls+
He stood on the edge of the cliff, black orbs trained on the village far below, in the depths of the shadows. He knew the sleeper was down there, with her young son. She thought she could escape from him, she thought she could outsmart him, but she was wrong. Dead wrong, to be exact.
With a gruesome grin the brute slide down the cliff face, pistons tall over the lifted rocks and dust which gathered around his sleek, muscular form. The mist seemed to slip over his black hued pelt, running over his body like water. It bowed to his masculine presence, understanding he wasn't a thing to be trifled with.
Where was the wench? He could smell her on the foul air, and the shadowed movements ahead alerted him to some thing's approach. Perhaps the fae thought she could escape the stag's wrath, for the slight echo of hoof beats reached his high pricked ears, calling him into action. She'd not escape this time, for he had her in his sights, dead ahead, with that cursed colt beside her. Tonight, it ended.
-coming soon-
Name: Obsidian
Gender: Stallion
Age: 7
Color: pure black
Breed: Friesian/ Shire mix
Height: 18.5 hh
Affiliation: Dark
Personality: Obsidian has a heart as black as his coat, and there is no chance that will ever change. He kills anything he wishes, and standing much higher than many other stallions, he has a huge ego and sense of immortality.
History: Not much in known about the dark, black hearted sire of Tsume. He was born in captivity, a mistake from the beginning. When only a yearling, and wild mustang came up beside the fence, prancing just out of the young colt's reach. Unable to stand the stallion taunts and disrespect, Obsidian finally broke free, chasing the mustang right off a cliff. Something dark corrupted the colt in the year or so afterward, and so when a young Rocky Mountain mare caught his eye, stealing away his heart, he couldn't resist her tempting pull. With disgust he watched the foal he had sired for a week before he finally decided to kill the pitiful creature. Tsume's dam fled with her foal, keeping just out of Obsidian's reach for a year before he at last caught up with her, cutting her down and scarring Tsume who he now hunts endlessly.
Sample Post:
He stood on the edge of the cliff, black orbs trained on the village far below, in the depths of the shadows. He knew the sleeper was down there, with her young son. She thought she could escape from him, she thought she could outsmart him, but she was wrong. Dead wrong, to be exact.
With a gruesome grin the brute slide down the cliff face, pistons tall over the lifted rocks and dust which gathered around his sleek, muscular form. The mist seemed to slip over his black hued pelt, running over his body like water. It bowed to his masculine presence, understanding he wasn't a thing to be trifled with.
Where was the wench? He could smell her on the foul air, and the shadowed movements ahead alerted him to some thing's approach. Perhaps the fae thought she could escape the stag's wrath, for the slight echo of hoof beats reached his high pricked ears, calling him into action. She'd not escape this time, for he had her in his sights, dead ahead, with that cursed colt beside her. Tonight, it ended.
