Post by Datura on May 27, 2012 14:29:41 GMT -5
Name: North
Breed: Fell Pony
Gender: mare (infertile)
Age: 4yrs
Height: 14.3hh
Coat Colour: black
Mane Colour: black
Tail Colour: black
Eye Colour: green
Markings: tear drop impression where a star should be
Image:
Alliance: probably going to be dark
History: North is from an all pony herd. She was always an outcast. She was often caught staring into the distance, murming words in some other language. No one liked her, not even her mother. Whenever the herd came across a horse that a cougar or wolf had killed, North would walk over to it and stare; once again murmuring in her own wierd language. One time in winter, North was caught standing in an icy river; laughing hysterically. Her mother ran over to her squealing "What is wrong with you?!!? Why must you embarass me as such?!?" North stopped laughing, staring blankly at her mother as she awnsered "Dummkopf dak ser vich." Her mother's eyes opened wide, then narrowed. "You know what.." her mother said, her voice clipped and tight. Then her mother drove her from the herd, nipping her as she did so. No one has ever seen North again, until now. She is now 4 years old, what will become of here here, in Isola Dei Dei? Will she find a herd? Certainly not. A friend? Probably not. But North is content to be on her own, mumbling in her language and standing in frozen rivers, like she did so many years ago.
Personality: North is cold. She likes stories of death and blood. She is a loner, but wont object to being a loner in a herd. She likes to stand alone, watching the sea. She likes to stand under waterfalls in winter, just so that she knows she can still feel. North is also infertile. Maybe this adds onto her depression, but it is clear that she would be this way anyway. North likes to go to other horses funerlas. Well, not funerlas, but when the herd members are crying and paying their respects to the deceased horse. No one ever notices her, though. They just always see a black shadow in the corner of their eye; catch a word or two in a foreign language on the wind. But they always blame it to the light, or the wind.
Breed: Fell Pony
Gender: mare (infertile)
Age: 4yrs
Height: 14.3hh
Coat Colour: black
Mane Colour: black
Tail Colour: black
Eye Colour: green
Markings: tear drop impression where a star should be
Image:
Alliance: probably going to be dark
History: North is from an all pony herd. She was always an outcast. She was often caught staring into the distance, murming words in some other language. No one liked her, not even her mother. Whenever the herd came across a horse that a cougar or wolf had killed, North would walk over to it and stare; once again murmuring in her own wierd language. One time in winter, North was caught standing in an icy river; laughing hysterically. Her mother ran over to her squealing "What is wrong with you?!!? Why must you embarass me as such?!?" North stopped laughing, staring blankly at her mother as she awnsered "Dummkopf dak ser vich." Her mother's eyes opened wide, then narrowed. "You know what.." her mother said, her voice clipped and tight. Then her mother drove her from the herd, nipping her as she did so. No one has ever seen North again, until now. She is now 4 years old, what will become of here here, in Isola Dei Dei? Will she find a herd? Certainly not. A friend? Probably not. But North is content to be on her own, mumbling in her language and standing in frozen rivers, like she did so many years ago.
Personality: North is cold. She likes stories of death and blood. She is a loner, but wont object to being a loner in a herd. She likes to stand alone, watching the sea. She likes to stand under waterfalls in winter, just so that she knows she can still feel. North is also infertile. Maybe this adds onto her depression, but it is clear that she would be this way anyway. North likes to go to other horses funerlas. Well, not funerlas, but when the herd members are crying and paying their respects to the deceased horse. No one ever notices her, though. They just always see a black shadow in the corner of their eye; catch a word or two in a foreign language on the wind. But they always blame it to the light, or the wind.
