Post by Xeoa on Jun 10, 2007 22:56:44 GMT -5
Name: Morlan
Gender: Stallion
Age: 9
Breed:Thoroughbred
Height: 16.1 HH
Color: fleabitten grey
Alliance: light
Deity: Poisedon
Appearance: A fleabitten grey coat graces the slender body of Morlan, along with a pure white mane running down his neck. Morlan's ever-lifted flaxen tail is as unpolluted as a newborn's mind. A conspicuous scar sits on his left shoulder, a reminder of a colt-hood stumble in the humans' city ruins. High withers and spindly legs crown Morlan's figure.
Personality: Morlan makes a friend of anyone he lays his eyes on. This life-loving Thoroughbred can take the most melancholy equine and make their imagination and capacity for fun soar. Being a Poisedon follower, Morlan spends his playtime(It is unusual for such an aged horse to have a playtime, but not much more than Morlan's body matured.) splashing in a puddle or rolling in a pond. His lust for life causes Morlan to live life to the fullest. He never misses out on an adventure. Morlan has many friends, but also breaks many hearts because he will pick up and move on a dime if a quest is offered.
History: Morlan's sire, Rinstar, was a follower of Poisedon, with a neutral alliance, but he leaned toward the Light. The dam was Munhue Kid, a softspoken grey mare, who had fire in her eyes and Apollo in her heart. Morlan's parents believed in the greater good, and for his six months with them, Morlan believed in it too. Then it happened. A raging fire swept across the Fair Lands wiping out all his friends and family, except for his aunt, Moonlight Rose. Moonlight Rose would tell Morlan stories of the heroic feats his father acomplished (however some were fiction) and the kind acts his mother excercised. After clinging to Aunt Moonlight Rose for four and a half more years, Morlan's soul was pulled to the outskirts of the Fair Lands, where, the grey's brain was telling him, he could find adventure, meaning, and maybe even love. Morlan did find adventure, but that Summer didn't grace the energetic horse with love or meaning. Every so often Morlan would leave his home, where ever that may be, leaving friends and memories behind without even a backwards glance. Morlan cursed himself to roam the Fair Lands until he could find meaning, and most importantly, love.
Sample Roleplay: A soft breeze blew across the scrubby grasses of Mycenae, signaling to Morlan the time of his departure. Morlan's endless black eyes stole a glance at Keyrana. The Red Roan Overo Paint mare looked restless. She looked up, then averted her eyes. Morlan could tell she didn't want him to leave for Ithaca. The grey trotted over to the troubled Keyrana. Morlan's tall, slender body loomed over the petite mare. He looked at Keyrana with sympathetic eyes.
"What's wrong, Keyrana?" Morlan asked, although he knew, and she knew he knew.
"Nothing," Keyrana answered, blinking her eyes, as if trying to wash away the sadness harbored in them. "I just want one last swim." Molran's eyes lit up. Molran knew he would miss the daily swims in the inland pond. Keyrana might be the first friend the nomad stallion would actually miss upon leaving. Suddenly, Keyrana started off like she was running from Hades himslef.
"Race...you!" the mare called over her shoulder inbetween deep breaths. Morlan's laughter filled the open air and he took off, faster than usual, trying to make his last race with Keyrana the best. Soon, the grey caught up with the short-legged paint, and they galloped head-on into the pond that they had created together Morlan's first day in Mycenae. The friends splashed and played for what seemed like mere minutes, but in reality it was many hours. Keyrana stepped out of the pond and shook her head, her long, tangled, white mane slapping the sides of her neck. Looking at this beauty, Morlan thought to himself. Maybe we aren't so different from each other, he ventured. Maybe she could be a perfect mate. The breeze grew stronger, summoning the grey to Ithaca.
"Keyrana, I'm sorry," Morlan called. He climbed out of the pond and approached the cheerless mare. Keyrana placed her small, shaped neck against Morlan's muslcular neck and sighed.
"I won't forget you," a comforting voice whispered in the paint's droopy ear. And Morlan was gone.
Gender: Stallion
Age: 9
Breed:Thoroughbred
Height: 16.1 HH
Color: fleabitten grey
Alliance: light
Deity: Poisedon
Appearance: A fleabitten grey coat graces the slender body of Morlan, along with a pure white mane running down his neck. Morlan's ever-lifted flaxen tail is as unpolluted as a newborn's mind. A conspicuous scar sits on his left shoulder, a reminder of a colt-hood stumble in the humans' city ruins. High withers and spindly legs crown Morlan's figure.
Personality: Morlan makes a friend of anyone he lays his eyes on. This life-loving Thoroughbred can take the most melancholy equine and make their imagination and capacity for fun soar. Being a Poisedon follower, Morlan spends his playtime(It is unusual for such an aged horse to have a playtime, but not much more than Morlan's body matured.) splashing in a puddle or rolling in a pond. His lust for life causes Morlan to live life to the fullest. He never misses out on an adventure. Morlan has many friends, but also breaks many hearts because he will pick up and move on a dime if a quest is offered.
History: Morlan's sire, Rinstar, was a follower of Poisedon, with a neutral alliance, but he leaned toward the Light. The dam was Munhue Kid, a softspoken grey mare, who had fire in her eyes and Apollo in her heart. Morlan's parents believed in the greater good, and for his six months with them, Morlan believed in it too. Then it happened. A raging fire swept across the Fair Lands wiping out all his friends and family, except for his aunt, Moonlight Rose. Moonlight Rose would tell Morlan stories of the heroic feats his father acomplished (however some were fiction) and the kind acts his mother excercised. After clinging to Aunt Moonlight Rose for four and a half more years, Morlan's soul was pulled to the outskirts of the Fair Lands, where, the grey's brain was telling him, he could find adventure, meaning, and maybe even love. Morlan did find adventure, but that Summer didn't grace the energetic horse with love or meaning. Every so often Morlan would leave his home, where ever that may be, leaving friends and memories behind without even a backwards glance. Morlan cursed himself to roam the Fair Lands until he could find meaning, and most importantly, love.
Sample Roleplay: A soft breeze blew across the scrubby grasses of Mycenae, signaling to Morlan the time of his departure. Morlan's endless black eyes stole a glance at Keyrana. The Red Roan Overo Paint mare looked restless. She looked up, then averted her eyes. Morlan could tell she didn't want him to leave for Ithaca. The grey trotted over to the troubled Keyrana. Morlan's tall, slender body loomed over the petite mare. He looked at Keyrana with sympathetic eyes.
"What's wrong, Keyrana?" Morlan asked, although he knew, and she knew he knew.
"Nothing," Keyrana answered, blinking her eyes, as if trying to wash away the sadness harbored in them. "I just want one last swim." Molran's eyes lit up. Molran knew he would miss the daily swims in the inland pond. Keyrana might be the first friend the nomad stallion would actually miss upon leaving. Suddenly, Keyrana started off like she was running from Hades himslef.
"Race...you!" the mare called over her shoulder inbetween deep breaths. Morlan's laughter filled the open air and he took off, faster than usual, trying to make his last race with Keyrana the best. Soon, the grey caught up with the short-legged paint, and they galloped head-on into the pond that they had created together Morlan's first day in Mycenae. The friends splashed and played for what seemed like mere minutes, but in reality it was many hours. Keyrana stepped out of the pond and shook her head, her long, tangled, white mane slapping the sides of her neck. Looking at this beauty, Morlan thought to himself. Maybe we aren't so different from each other, he ventured. Maybe she could be a perfect mate. The breeze grew stronger, summoning the grey to Ithaca.
"Keyrana, I'm sorry," Morlan called. He climbed out of the pond and approached the cheerless mare. Keyrana placed her small, shaped neck against Morlan's muslcular neck and sighed.
"I won't forget you," a comforting voice whispered in the paint's droopy ear. And Morlan was gone.