Post by cicadanoise on Oct 10, 2006 3:18:56 GMT -5
{Even though I already have an approved character here, since I just started, I thought I should get this one approved as well.}
Name: River
Age: 6
Breed: mustang
Lineage: mustang sire ("Watersong") x mustang dam ("Dandelion")
Height: 14.1hh
Sex: stallion
Children: none
Place Of Birth: the Graveyards (see sample post for explanation)
Physical Characteristics: River is an average-looking mustang - medium-sized, rugged, and possessing no unusual features for his breed. He's a bit lanky for a mature horse, making him look younger than he is. He's a buckskin - tan coat, deep grey hooves, and his mane and tail are brown-black. His muzzle slightly darker than the rest of his face. His only distinguishing scar is a nick in his left ear - the chunk that's missing is about the size of a kidney bean. River's mane and tail naturally tend to grow short, so he doesn't have too much trouble with tangling or getting mud in his tail.
Personality: Very mild-tempered. River can be skittish in unfamiliar situations, but he doesn't baulk at every little sound. More often than not, new things inspire cautious curiosity for him. He gets along fairly well with both stallions and mares, although aggressive horses intimidate him. His fight-or-flight instinct leans heavily towards flight - he's not interested in claiming land or mares, thought he would certainly like to find one or two other horses to travel with permanently. River likes foals and spends a lot of time around the foaling grounds - even if he doesn't know the mares, he'll protect or assist them gladly. He's terrified of snakes.
Sample Post:
The walls of the ravine rose up above him, almost impossibly high - the setting sun didn't reach the bottom, but the red light glowed like a bloodstain against the jagged rocks. The late summer wind whistled through the narrow passage, and to River, it sounded like the voices of all the spirits said to come here after death.
Perhaps one of those voices was his father?
The buckskin stallion raised his chocolate-dipped muzzle and whinnied softly into the canyon, then lowered his head as he listened to the echoes that came bounding back. That was the only answer he would ever get from this place.
River had been born here, six years ago. His sire had broken his back leg in a prairie dog burrow and died a slow death from dehydration, leaving his pregnant mother alone in the last month of her gestation. She had come here, to this very spot - marked by a trickle of water flowing down the canyon wall - to mourn her mate, and had gone into labour there among the ghosts and the memories. Maybe it was fitting - at least that way, Watersong could be with her in a sense.
The graveyard, as it was called, was a place of mixed feelings for River - it was meant to be a place of sorrow, but also of remembering. He had been given life here. Someday soon his mother would probably join her long-lost stallion in this place - she was growing old, and the last time that River had seen her, the years had been heavy on her dusty red-brown shoulders.
Either way, it wasn't healthy to stay here and dwell for long. Offering his departed father a final whicker of farewell, River turned and trotted back out of the ravine, back into the sun and the green grass.
Name: River
Age: 6
Breed: mustang
Lineage: mustang sire ("Watersong") x mustang dam ("Dandelion")
Height: 14.1hh
Sex: stallion
Children: none
Place Of Birth: the Graveyards (see sample post for explanation)
Physical Characteristics: River is an average-looking mustang - medium-sized, rugged, and possessing no unusual features for his breed. He's a bit lanky for a mature horse, making him look younger than he is. He's a buckskin - tan coat, deep grey hooves, and his mane and tail are brown-black. His muzzle slightly darker than the rest of his face. His only distinguishing scar is a nick in his left ear - the chunk that's missing is about the size of a kidney bean. River's mane and tail naturally tend to grow short, so he doesn't have too much trouble with tangling or getting mud in his tail.
Personality: Very mild-tempered. River can be skittish in unfamiliar situations, but he doesn't baulk at every little sound. More often than not, new things inspire cautious curiosity for him. He gets along fairly well with both stallions and mares, although aggressive horses intimidate him. His fight-or-flight instinct leans heavily towards flight - he's not interested in claiming land or mares, thought he would certainly like to find one or two other horses to travel with permanently. River likes foals and spends a lot of time around the foaling grounds - even if he doesn't know the mares, he'll protect or assist them gladly. He's terrified of snakes.
Sample Post:
The walls of the ravine rose up above him, almost impossibly high - the setting sun didn't reach the bottom, but the red light glowed like a bloodstain against the jagged rocks. The late summer wind whistled through the narrow passage, and to River, it sounded like the voices of all the spirits said to come here after death.
Perhaps one of those voices was his father?
The buckskin stallion raised his chocolate-dipped muzzle and whinnied softly into the canyon, then lowered his head as he listened to the echoes that came bounding back. That was the only answer he would ever get from this place.
River had been born here, six years ago. His sire had broken his back leg in a prairie dog burrow and died a slow death from dehydration, leaving his pregnant mother alone in the last month of her gestation. She had come here, to this very spot - marked by a trickle of water flowing down the canyon wall - to mourn her mate, and had gone into labour there among the ghosts and the memories. Maybe it was fitting - at least that way, Watersong could be with her in a sense.
The graveyard, as it was called, was a place of mixed feelings for River - it was meant to be a place of sorrow, but also of remembering. He had been given life here. Someday soon his mother would probably join her long-lost stallion in this place - she was growing old, and the last time that River had seen her, the years had been heavy on her dusty red-brown shoulders.
Either way, it wasn't healthy to stay here and dwell for long. Offering his departed father a final whicker of farewell, River turned and trotted back out of the ravine, back into the sun and the green grass.
