Post by Tilliah on Jun 10, 2007 23:07:12 GMT -5
Name: Matrik
Gender: Stallion
Age: 11 years
Breed: Warmblood
Height: 16.3 Hh
Color: Bay
Alliance: Neutral
Deity: Poisedon
Appearance:
The long, luxorious mane of a warmblood is carried like a banner by a strong, muscled neck. The dark, seeing eyes watch all things around him that move; the long lashes giving him a deeply intruiging look. Matrik is a different kind of horse. His dark bay coat is coarse, but usually not too dirty, his love of water reflects in that he usually gives the impression of intense care about his appearance. He is a very broad-shouldered horse, his lean, toned legs pulsing from beneath him in a learned pattern, his heavy, hard hooves pounding the dirt. His black tail waving and changing like the seafoam itself, carried high and proud.
Personality: His appearance shows easily who he really is: for a word: proud. He is regal and noble, very gentle-minded but intelligent and ready for anything. He's usually quite laid back and even a little apathetic, but when he has to be, he is whatever fits the time. He is as harsh, changing, and untamable as the sea, and his Poisedon blood showing very strongly in his persona.
He can be exitable, and to those he knows, he is even gab, sometimes. He always thinks at least three times before he says something, silent, listening, until he reaches a virdict.
History: Borne of two noble Poisedon equines, this horse is, and always has been, very lucky. His mother and father let him leave when he felt ready, which, invaribly, was as soon as he felt he could. It is strange, with some, letting them decide is the worst thing you could do to them. But not Matrik. He decided his own fate.
He has taken two mates in his time alive: Peonie, and Rassah, both of which he left behind in a futile attempt at leadership of a herd. And now, he is left alone, no one trusting him. He wants nothing more than to be accepted: but truly, once that is achieved, his leadership traits will take over, and so, in turn, shall he.
Sample Roleplay:
Matrik awoke suddenly, his bleary vision distorting the shapes around him. As the world came into focus, he realized what he needed to do. A storm was approaching, the air was full with droplets of water waiting to fall, and dark, sinister thunderheads covered the moon and its light. Despite it all, the stallion was excited. His well-toned muscles rippled under a copper coat as he rose to all four legs, and also raised his head to the sky. A single raindrop fell on his head. All hell would be released at any moment, and he knew it.
But he didn't move. He squinted, though, as the heavy downpour began. It plastered his black forelock firmly to his forehead, and pounded against his strong back with an everchanging rythym. With a long sigh, he closed his eyes and let the rain fall, washing away the thoughts. The thoughts that he had nobody. Well, he did remember what to do. Above all else: Never make anyone your everybody, because when they're gone, you've got nothing.
Gender: Stallion
Age: 11 years
Breed: Warmblood
Height: 16.3 Hh
Color: Bay
Alliance: Neutral
Deity: Poisedon
Appearance:
The long, luxorious mane of a warmblood is carried like a banner by a strong, muscled neck. The dark, seeing eyes watch all things around him that move; the long lashes giving him a deeply intruiging look. Matrik is a different kind of horse. His dark bay coat is coarse, but usually not too dirty, his love of water reflects in that he usually gives the impression of intense care about his appearance. He is a very broad-shouldered horse, his lean, toned legs pulsing from beneath him in a learned pattern, his heavy, hard hooves pounding the dirt. His black tail waving and changing like the seafoam itself, carried high and proud.
Personality: His appearance shows easily who he really is: for a word: proud. He is regal and noble, very gentle-minded but intelligent and ready for anything. He's usually quite laid back and even a little apathetic, but when he has to be, he is whatever fits the time. He is as harsh, changing, and untamable as the sea, and his Poisedon blood showing very strongly in his persona.
He can be exitable, and to those he knows, he is even gab, sometimes. He always thinks at least three times before he says something, silent, listening, until he reaches a virdict.
History: Borne of two noble Poisedon equines, this horse is, and always has been, very lucky. His mother and father let him leave when he felt ready, which, invaribly, was as soon as he felt he could. It is strange, with some, letting them decide is the worst thing you could do to them. But not Matrik. He decided his own fate.
He has taken two mates in his time alive: Peonie, and Rassah, both of which he left behind in a futile attempt at leadership of a herd. And now, he is left alone, no one trusting him. He wants nothing more than to be accepted: but truly, once that is achieved, his leadership traits will take over, and so, in turn, shall he.
Sample Roleplay:
Matrik awoke suddenly, his bleary vision distorting the shapes around him. As the world came into focus, he realized what he needed to do. A storm was approaching, the air was full with droplets of water waiting to fall, and dark, sinister thunderheads covered the moon and its light. Despite it all, the stallion was excited. His well-toned muscles rippled under a copper coat as he rose to all four legs, and also raised his head to the sky. A single raindrop fell on his head. All hell would be released at any moment, and he knew it.
But he didn't move. He squinted, though, as the heavy downpour began. It plastered his black forelock firmly to his forehead, and pounded against his strong back with an everchanging rythym. With a long sigh, he closed his eyes and let the rain fall, washing away the thoughts. The thoughts that he had nobody. Well, he did remember what to do. Above all else: Never make anyone your everybody, because when they're gone, you've got nothing.
