Dekka

[framed]

Dekka



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AGE
4 years

GENDER
stallion

PERSONALITY
Dekka defies the average stereotype of stallions. Despite the testosterone coursing through his veins, he find himself shying from danger and bolting away from even the slight rustle of a tree limb that may pose a threat. However, his flighty ways do not result in the typical herd bound persona. He finds himself alone a great majority of the time, unable to trust even a docile equine. He longs to love, to trust again, but scars from his past hinder his efforts.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
His coal black coat is skewed with two long scars, one spanning diagonally on his right from the point of his shoulder to his girth. The other wrapping its way up from fetlock to hock on his hind left leg. His only color contrast is an hour glass shape marking, neither resembling a star nor a snip, covering the majority of his muzzle and a slight amount of space on his crown. Despite the absents of white near his eyes, they shine a pale blue. His slender 15.2 hand body flows into sloping shoulders with a somewhat straight pastern. The cause of the scar on his hind leg also resulted in a slight limp, not obstructing his forward movements, but diminishing the graceful flow his gaits once held. His hind end lacks the muscles of typical stallions, as does his top line, bestowing upon him a scrawny appearance.

HISTORY
At birth, he was a prodigy. He was rumored to encompass the blood of beasts long deceased. His flawless appearance would have brought peacocks to shame. Most importantly, he was the son of a grand warrior. Prior to his creation, the sire had predetermined his destiny. The sire showed no mercy towards Dekka, in attempt to build the strength inside of him. However, the more tortured Dekka became, the more he shied from the challenges, not once rising up the expectations of his father. Perhaps the sense of failure was too much to bear, but the sire grew angry, lashing out at Dekka without reason. He was determined to make his colt a warrior or give him death. Despite the rage contained inside his sire, Dekka’s dam was quite docile. Dekka would shadow her most of the time knowing that despite the sire’s endless fury, he could not and would not hurt his beloved mare. This strategy seemed to work to Dekka’s advantage until one tragic day. He was trailing behind the golden mare, his stride only but half of hers, down the rocky trail they had traveled on endless times. It guided to an expansion of somewhat murky water, sheltered by willows, allowing only droplets of light through their leaves. Dekka was playful and worry free, as was usual when distance was placed between him and his sire. Neither the equines saw the blur of black as it crept alongside them, prowling, no doubt planning his tactics. Dekka could not comprehend what he saw. The ebony feline leapt from the brush, ivory teeth and claws protruded as he tore through the mare. In a mere moment the mare lie on her side in a mess of crimson liquid as Dekka stood, bewildered. The mare released a struggled whiney but Dekka could not find the strength to abandon his dam. The feline swiftly turned towards Dekka, the appeal of tender meat, too much to resist. Dekka came to his senses while the feline managed to tangle his daggers of claws around the soft torso of the colt. Dekka took off into the brush, fear taking him farther into the clutches of the forest. As his adrenaline wore off, he found himself lost in a labyrinth of foliage. It had struck him that all hope was lost. Despite the fear of the midnight feline returning, he continued on his journey, spooking at the slightest rustle of a simple leaf. He hoped one day that he might stumble upon another herd of horses before his next encounter with death.
PICTURE