Post by Rigs on Mar 25, 2011 0:28:50 GMT -5
Name:
Evander (Evvy, Evs, Vander, Vanny, Ender)
Breed:
Paint x American Saddlebred x Morgan x American Quarter Horse
Gender:
Stallion
Age:
11 years
Height:
15 hands
Coat Colour:
Bay
Mane Colour:
Black
Tail Colour:
Black
Eye Colour:
Blue
Markings:
Splashed White
Image:
Alliance:
Light
History:
Evander, before he was a lone wandering stallion, was a gentle pet born in a gentle and small farm that belonged to a very harsh man to people, but very soft and kind to his animals. He was a horse bred from good horses. Evander’s mother was a crossbreed and so was his father. Though not pure, these were carefully selected mates, and soon, his mother became pregnant. She foaled him, licked him up, and had him to drink from her teats until he was filled. His mother, Lorie, was a good mare and even-tempered. Evander grew up in the best possible care. He was truly a horse in love with his life and was trained very well using the most non-confrontational training techniques which developed him into a thinking horse.
When he was five, he and his human build such trust through training, his master would ride him quietly down the wooded trails and when they met a fork in the road, he’d drop the reins and pat Evander on the neck and say, “Whichever way, Ender.” And Evander would choose the safest route of the day. They’d run fast through a shallow and flat valley-land, racing the wind and jumping the rotting fences that once upon a time, were erected by armies in the midst of war. For six sweet years, Evander lived an enviable life, only punctuated with chaos when men would come over and complain about this that and another, mostly about how his master would ride him while they had too much work to do and it was getting down to the wire.
When he was half-way through his sixth year, his owner lost his fortune to debts he owed—he was a criminal and it all caught up to him. He was unable to care for his horses and had to sell. First he sold Rosa, Evander’s mother. Then, the gelding, Gianpaolo. And then, the chickens, then the land. And when all was sold, life became bare. Evander had to spend more and more time in the stall until his master got arrested and put into jail, unable to continue funding his lawyer. The police had uncovered a great many crimes and that was that. But it wasn’t anything a horse could understand. Evander understood none of it. They respected his single request to find a home for the horse. However, there was a stigma about Evander. He was the evil man’s horse. A man responsible for such horrific crimes as drug, human trafficking, murders, kidnappings, and other things could not have produced a trustworthy animal. Surely some of him rubbed off on the gentle looking stallion.
Those who wanted a piece of Evander’s master’s notoriety, the claim that they tamed the beast, were those who had more machismo than brains. And it was one of these that eventually adopted the horse. He ruined the good horse to riding. Evander was a thinking horse and instead of spooking and running away and turning off his brain, he instead kept his distance, pinned his ears, and turned himself into a monster of a stallion. Unable to break Evander’s spirit, the man turned him loose to a field where he could mate with his mares. The shy, soulless shells of horses in the fields neither attracted Evander nor did they even pique his interests. Evander was sold to another man who enjoyed challenging training prospects.
And so, Evander, despite being a perfectly good and sensible horse, was traded from one man to another as a test of skill simply due to the reputation of his master. He found himself being loaded into trailers, forced into different climates, countries, and farms. Staying in one place made him itchy for adventure. A challenge: what else could you throw at me? He met with many horses, some of which were sound in mind, others which were abused and broken, and others still that were snotty and bratty and jealous. However, he remained himself, the horse his master had trained, a cool, collected horse, with more sense than the men who tried to train him.
But then, taking note of how unshakeable he was, they led him by a halter into a fenced arena. There was the spark of testosterone in the air, like a lighter dropped into a puddle of gasoline, something in his head exploded, a rage. The other stallion, unstable, ran after him and Evander was forced to fight. He still wears the scars from his time as a fighting horse, where men exchanged bets over which horse would bleed the most. He was billed as the Devil’s Horse. He had a white face and glass-blue eyes and his bay hide shining in the sun. He truly looked like a demon in the ring.
Finally, when he was wearied from the fighting, he was rescued by a gang of men (most likely people hired by his original owner to ensure that Evander was safe) and dropped off on the nearby island. For a few months, he simply mourned his newfound loneliness. Where had all the men gone? He asked. But then, he had a revelation, dusted himself off, counted the scars on his sides, not knowing how much he had yet on his neck, and realized that he knew exactly what he was going to do.
He was going to live. And he was going to live as a horse proper to his circumstances. For he was a horse and he was his own horse, no longer a pet for humans to keep, love, or torture.
Personality:
Evander is the quintessential wanderer: the loveable rogue, the eccentric ranger, the wise hermit. He has a lust for adventure, a romance with danger, and a nonchalance that makes him the cool, collected horse amid a world of chaos and drama or, for the cynics, a horse that just doesn’t give a damn. He is bold and tireless, a lawless horse who can’t commit himself to a single life—monotony would only make it so that his blasé character redundant and worthless. He’s a dreamer in love with the lone wolf’s life, picturing himself as greater because of it, and more able to actualize the potential in his bones due to his self-sentenced life of hardships. Truly, he believes that which does not kill him makes him stronger.
His gruff exterior only hides a gentle soul that was once a pet of a man. Those who knew the horse he used to be would not recognize the hard-eyed and devilish stallion he is today. Evander, despite the fact that he lives and breathes the aura of a lone wolf personality, is unable to truly enjoy loneliness. When meeting others, he bursts with confidence, with his savvy way of talking and socializing, his rather rough yet gentle way of handling others—he makes it known that he’s been through a lot and he won’t baby you, but he also softens the punch for those that he can see tremble beneath his booming and loud personality. He’s unable to abandon a horse in need. Even though he’ll put on a show of begrudgingly forcing himself to be charitable, it’s always because he wants to do good things. There is a kernel of his character that can never be changed and it is that he is eager to please and has a sense of morality that supersedes any sense of justice and herd politics.
Evander has a daredevil streak in how he lives his life. He is a horse of the moment. He spends no time mulling over the past—possibly because it’s much too painful, and he wastes no time looking to the future simply because dreams are, for the most part, unreachable. His view is that if he’s destined to lead a herd of mares or have a legacy of foals, then he would have had them already. Since he doesn’t, he might as well enjoy his life now. He’s a junkie on adrenaline and loves the feel of his heart racing in his chest.
Evander flirts. A lot. And with everyone. And by that, I mean everyone. He truly loves almost everyone in that way. But his promiscuousness is a front. Though he feels like he’d never hurt a fly in first meetings, he’s a fighter and can certainly hold his own against other stallions. He is no stranger to violence or to love, and sometimes may mix the two when he gets too aroused. It’s a part of his nature. However, he is exceedingly gentle and romantic with any receptive horse, choosing to have everything be a little “fling” simply because he doesn’t want to commit himself to a single flavor of life or to allow his more violent side to emerge unexpectedly with those he cares about. His flirtatious attitude makes him seem very noncommittal and for most of the time, he’s able to cleanly side-step any trainwreck of a relationship. Trauma can be considered the average excuse and he has had enough of it in his life, which is why he keeps his storm beneath his skin quiet and hidden.
Evander (Evvy, Evs, Vander, Vanny, Ender)
Breed:
Paint x American Saddlebred x Morgan x American Quarter Horse
Gender:
Stallion
Age:
11 years
Height:
15 hands
Coat Colour:
Bay
Mane Colour:
Black
Tail Colour:
Black
Eye Colour:
Blue
Markings:
Splashed White
Image:
Alliance:
Light
History:
Evander, before he was a lone wandering stallion, was a gentle pet born in a gentle and small farm that belonged to a very harsh man to people, but very soft and kind to his animals. He was a horse bred from good horses. Evander’s mother was a crossbreed and so was his father. Though not pure, these were carefully selected mates, and soon, his mother became pregnant. She foaled him, licked him up, and had him to drink from her teats until he was filled. His mother, Lorie, was a good mare and even-tempered. Evander grew up in the best possible care. He was truly a horse in love with his life and was trained very well using the most non-confrontational training techniques which developed him into a thinking horse.
When he was five, he and his human build such trust through training, his master would ride him quietly down the wooded trails and when they met a fork in the road, he’d drop the reins and pat Evander on the neck and say, “Whichever way, Ender.” And Evander would choose the safest route of the day. They’d run fast through a shallow and flat valley-land, racing the wind and jumping the rotting fences that once upon a time, were erected by armies in the midst of war. For six sweet years, Evander lived an enviable life, only punctuated with chaos when men would come over and complain about this that and another, mostly about how his master would ride him while they had too much work to do and it was getting down to the wire.
When he was half-way through his sixth year, his owner lost his fortune to debts he owed—he was a criminal and it all caught up to him. He was unable to care for his horses and had to sell. First he sold Rosa, Evander’s mother. Then, the gelding, Gianpaolo. And then, the chickens, then the land. And when all was sold, life became bare. Evander had to spend more and more time in the stall until his master got arrested and put into jail, unable to continue funding his lawyer. The police had uncovered a great many crimes and that was that. But it wasn’t anything a horse could understand. Evander understood none of it. They respected his single request to find a home for the horse. However, there was a stigma about Evander. He was the evil man’s horse. A man responsible for such horrific crimes as drug, human trafficking, murders, kidnappings, and other things could not have produced a trustworthy animal. Surely some of him rubbed off on the gentle looking stallion.
Those who wanted a piece of Evander’s master’s notoriety, the claim that they tamed the beast, were those who had more machismo than brains. And it was one of these that eventually adopted the horse. He ruined the good horse to riding. Evander was a thinking horse and instead of spooking and running away and turning off his brain, he instead kept his distance, pinned his ears, and turned himself into a monster of a stallion. Unable to break Evander’s spirit, the man turned him loose to a field where he could mate with his mares. The shy, soulless shells of horses in the fields neither attracted Evander nor did they even pique his interests. Evander was sold to another man who enjoyed challenging training prospects.
And so, Evander, despite being a perfectly good and sensible horse, was traded from one man to another as a test of skill simply due to the reputation of his master. He found himself being loaded into trailers, forced into different climates, countries, and farms. Staying in one place made him itchy for adventure. A challenge: what else could you throw at me? He met with many horses, some of which were sound in mind, others which were abused and broken, and others still that were snotty and bratty and jealous. However, he remained himself, the horse his master had trained, a cool, collected horse, with more sense than the men who tried to train him.
But then, taking note of how unshakeable he was, they led him by a halter into a fenced arena. There was the spark of testosterone in the air, like a lighter dropped into a puddle of gasoline, something in his head exploded, a rage. The other stallion, unstable, ran after him and Evander was forced to fight. He still wears the scars from his time as a fighting horse, where men exchanged bets over which horse would bleed the most. He was billed as the Devil’s Horse. He had a white face and glass-blue eyes and his bay hide shining in the sun. He truly looked like a demon in the ring.
Finally, when he was wearied from the fighting, he was rescued by a gang of men (most likely people hired by his original owner to ensure that Evander was safe) and dropped off on the nearby island. For a few months, he simply mourned his newfound loneliness. Where had all the men gone? He asked. But then, he had a revelation, dusted himself off, counted the scars on his sides, not knowing how much he had yet on his neck, and realized that he knew exactly what he was going to do.
He was going to live. And he was going to live as a horse proper to his circumstances. For he was a horse and he was his own horse, no longer a pet for humans to keep, love, or torture.
Personality:
Evander is the quintessential wanderer: the loveable rogue, the eccentric ranger, the wise hermit. He has a lust for adventure, a romance with danger, and a nonchalance that makes him the cool, collected horse amid a world of chaos and drama or, for the cynics, a horse that just doesn’t give a damn. He is bold and tireless, a lawless horse who can’t commit himself to a single life—monotony would only make it so that his blasé character redundant and worthless. He’s a dreamer in love with the lone wolf’s life, picturing himself as greater because of it, and more able to actualize the potential in his bones due to his self-sentenced life of hardships. Truly, he believes that which does not kill him makes him stronger.
His gruff exterior only hides a gentle soul that was once a pet of a man. Those who knew the horse he used to be would not recognize the hard-eyed and devilish stallion he is today. Evander, despite the fact that he lives and breathes the aura of a lone wolf personality, is unable to truly enjoy loneliness. When meeting others, he bursts with confidence, with his savvy way of talking and socializing, his rather rough yet gentle way of handling others—he makes it known that he’s been through a lot and he won’t baby you, but he also softens the punch for those that he can see tremble beneath his booming and loud personality. He’s unable to abandon a horse in need. Even though he’ll put on a show of begrudgingly forcing himself to be charitable, it’s always because he wants to do good things. There is a kernel of his character that can never be changed and it is that he is eager to please and has a sense of morality that supersedes any sense of justice and herd politics.
Evander has a daredevil streak in how he lives his life. He is a horse of the moment. He spends no time mulling over the past—possibly because it’s much too painful, and he wastes no time looking to the future simply because dreams are, for the most part, unreachable. His view is that if he’s destined to lead a herd of mares or have a legacy of foals, then he would have had them already. Since he doesn’t, he might as well enjoy his life now. He’s a junkie on adrenaline and loves the feel of his heart racing in his chest.
Evander flirts. A lot. And with everyone. And by that, I mean everyone. He truly loves almost everyone in that way. But his promiscuousness is a front. Though he feels like he’d never hurt a fly in first meetings, he’s a fighter and can certainly hold his own against other stallions. He is no stranger to violence or to love, and sometimes may mix the two when he gets too aroused. It’s a part of his nature. However, he is exceedingly gentle and romantic with any receptive horse, choosing to have everything be a little “fling” simply because he doesn’t want to commit himself to a single flavor of life or to allow his more violent side to emerge unexpectedly with those he cares about. His flirtatious attitude makes him seem very noncommittal and for most of the time, he’s able to cleanly side-step any trainwreck of a relationship. Trauma can be considered the average excuse and he has had enough of it in his life, which is why he keeps his storm beneath his skin quiet and hidden.
