Post by Trance on Oct 2, 2006 21:24:00 GMT -5
Name: Trance
Nickname: None
Breed: Spanish
Age: 8
Color: Bay
Height: 16.2
Personality: Trance is a very courageous and independent stallion. He often has moments of playfulness and possesses the ability to find amusement in the monotony that is life.
History: Trance had a mostly happy "childhood" when he was younger. His sire was a noble leader, teaching him in the ways of ruling a herd from the time he was young and receiving extra attention as he was considered a favorite in the herd for his strength and good attitude. His dam was a quiet, but important force in the herd and Trance learned from both parents. He left his herd at the age of two when his father decided that he had become too independent and boorish to remain any longer. Trance wandered as a bachelor for some years before he found a mare he wished to call his own at age 5. He fought for the mare, Tarra, against the sinister stallion who had previously held her under his control and won handily. For a year, the two existed together, wandering the terrains without settling in any particular place. At the end of his 6th year, he challenged an older stallion in an attempt to settle on his territory. He lost miserably, being close to death by the end of the battle, and lost Tarra to the other stag. Since that time, he has recovered from the battle and continued to wander the terrain aimlessly with only his thoughts for company. Now, although he holds regret for his past weakness, he is determined to start again and have a herd of his own once more.
Role Playing Sample:
Rain sluiced down upon the mahogany pelt of the stallion called Trance, the hairs absorbing the falling water so that his body shone with the sheen of moisture. Lightning flashed angrily in the heavens, illuminating Trance’s russet coat for a moment before the darkness returned. Hooves pounded restlessly over the terrain, stilts dressed in shadows lifting high before they again fell with the mechanical rhythm of metal pistons. Trance tossed his head in rebelliousness, neck curving to follow his movements, muscles bulging as he threw his head skyward before dipping his maw nearly to his chest. The lengthy, drenched tendrils of his mane shook wildly with his movements, flying out behind him before coming to rest again against his neck with a loud slap. Hooves flew faster over the terra, testing the power of his speed over soil recently saturated from the rain of the thunderstorm. His movements caused squelching sounds as the soil attempted to arrest the bay stag, large imprints brought about by his falling flints left in an even trail behind him, telling the story of his current travels. Trance pinned his ears flat against his skull as lightning and thunder again crashed in the heavens. Lips drew back as far as they could to reveal the dangerous gleam of teeth, neck snaking forward to lash out at an invisible enemy. His gallop was momentarily paused as his legs struck out behind him so that he could release a wild buck, hooves landing perfectly so that movement afterwards was unimpeded. Mind was empty as his thoughts were on the ground swiftly passing beneath his hooves and the storm that raged overhead.
The stallion slowed his race against the weather to come down to a gliding trot. Here, he was forced to be aware of the trees that edged his path and the patches of mud that sought to drag him down beneath the earth’s surface. Hooves flitted over patches of emerald turf, ever moving forward with a lofty spring in his step. The broad leaves of the trees stretched above him, blocking the water until they could no longer resist the weight and permitted the collected rainwater to cascade down to the loam of the floor. Breaths came heavy as each vaulted step carried the masculine figure further until he reached the edges of a lagoon. Danger was whispered through the trees as he moved now, danger that Trance wished to meet. His adventurous spirit was captivated by this territory, the raw beauty that lurked before the shadows of hazard. It was not all danger, though; there were many places that appeared to the bay stag as secluded, safe havens that could house a herd honorably. Trance himself felt strangely safe in this area, as if the darkness and haunted appearance were welcoming to his style. The thought of danger was like a drug at times in the stallion’s mind, causing him to act irrationally out of a need to feel the exhilaration of fear.
Without warning, Trance suddenly quickly came to a halt, lifting himself back onto his hind hooves with muscles bunching in his haunches as he pivoted around upon his hocks in an intricate dance movement. A strong need to release the pent up energy inside overcame him then, encouraged by the excitement found in the storm. As lightning crashed again, the stallion struck out with a front leg, pawing the air mightily with the aura of a king. A tree trunk that proved to be offensive as it was in close vicinity to him became a target as the stallion whirled about to face it. Rocking back onto brawny hindquarters for power, Trance launched forward towards the tree, sliding to a delicate halt just within striking distance. Maw parted to unleash a squeal into the atmosphere as his front legs were lifted off the ground. He played in this ancient battle dance, rocking backwards and forwards, lashing out at the innocuous tree so that hooves left a scathing slash across the bark. He crouched then with the semblance of a cougar, shoulders hunched forwards as he circled his mark. With fierce determination, he grappled the tree with sturdy forelegs, dulled, omnivorous teeth burying themselves in the bark that surrendered easily. Satisfaction crossed the stag’s mind, a bright flare reflected in his orbs as he surveyed his work, pride in his own strength giving a proud arch to his Spanish neck. All of a sudden, consciousness of his actions hit Trance so that he realized how absolutely silly he probably looked. Immediately he calmed from the wild beast to the perfect semblance of a placid, noble brute, auds swiveling innocently atop his crown as he turned humiliated away from the harmless structure of nature. Still, though, beneath that layer of humiliation remained the pride he held for his prowess. Prowess that had failed him before and lost him his love, but prowess nonetheless. Ever since he had lost that battle those years ago, he had devoted his entire corporeal vigor to improving his fighting techniques. Now, although he had been greatly humbled once before, he was confident that he would not allow himself to lose again. Next time if he were to lose, he would not walk away with breath still in his lungs. He would rather die than have the same incident happen twice. Anger at his own insufficiency boiled up again in the stallion’s mind as he recalled that tragic event, the look in poor Tarra’s eyes as she had watched him take that blow to his side that had left him breathless and weak, giving the alternate stallion opportunity to offer the final strike that had nearly killed him. With utter hatred he remembered the sneering look in the other stallion’s eyes as he had stared down at him while he lay immobile in the grimy dust of defeat. He could do nothing, only watch with a searing pain in his heart as his only love was herded away. The one he could not defend. The one he had failed. Intense anger swallowed the stallion as he examined himself while staring out at the lonely waters that brewed with the storm’s wrath. He would never permit such an event to occur again.
His hooves began movement again, much more relaxed and less agitated in their cadence as his thoughts smoothed out in confidence. He strode upon this terra as if he owned the place, maw held high in the semblance of the warrior he was. The rain still fell, but he did not even bat his eyes or shake his body in response, simply accepted the conditions as they were and walked as if the skies were clear of any disturbance. Perhaps he could be king of this terra, embrace its danger as his own. It matched him rather suitably, he presumed. He loved the aspects of this place and the mysterious beauty that clung to the width of the trees and the monsters prowling in the depths of the waters. He was confident that he could protect any he chose to bring here, so that was not a worry. Alligators did not pose a threat to the powerful stag. He knew he could defeat any adversary he desired if he set his will against it.
~~~
ooc: Sorry its so horrible and fake with him fighting the tree. I just got that silly thought in my head and had to follow it. My good muse is seriously lacking right now, but I wanted to create him while I had the idea in my head. I’m going to use this post to claim a territory, I think, since I couldn’t come up with much else to post for him except perhaps a flashback of the battle over Tarra that would most probably be overly drawn out and boring to meet requirements. Anyways. I’m sure you needed to know all that, haha.
Also, just so you know, I'm Alida, too.
Nickname: None
Breed: Spanish
Age: 8
Color: Bay
Height: 16.2
Personality: Trance is a very courageous and independent stallion. He often has moments of playfulness and possesses the ability to find amusement in the monotony that is life.
History: Trance had a mostly happy "childhood" when he was younger. His sire was a noble leader, teaching him in the ways of ruling a herd from the time he was young and receiving extra attention as he was considered a favorite in the herd for his strength and good attitude. His dam was a quiet, but important force in the herd and Trance learned from both parents. He left his herd at the age of two when his father decided that he had become too independent and boorish to remain any longer. Trance wandered as a bachelor for some years before he found a mare he wished to call his own at age 5. He fought for the mare, Tarra, against the sinister stallion who had previously held her under his control and won handily. For a year, the two existed together, wandering the terrains without settling in any particular place. At the end of his 6th year, he challenged an older stallion in an attempt to settle on his territory. He lost miserably, being close to death by the end of the battle, and lost Tarra to the other stag. Since that time, he has recovered from the battle and continued to wander the terrain aimlessly with only his thoughts for company. Now, although he holds regret for his past weakness, he is determined to start again and have a herd of his own once more.
Role Playing Sample:
Rain sluiced down upon the mahogany pelt of the stallion called Trance, the hairs absorbing the falling water so that his body shone with the sheen of moisture. Lightning flashed angrily in the heavens, illuminating Trance’s russet coat for a moment before the darkness returned. Hooves pounded restlessly over the terrain, stilts dressed in shadows lifting high before they again fell with the mechanical rhythm of metal pistons. Trance tossed his head in rebelliousness, neck curving to follow his movements, muscles bulging as he threw his head skyward before dipping his maw nearly to his chest. The lengthy, drenched tendrils of his mane shook wildly with his movements, flying out behind him before coming to rest again against his neck with a loud slap. Hooves flew faster over the terra, testing the power of his speed over soil recently saturated from the rain of the thunderstorm. His movements caused squelching sounds as the soil attempted to arrest the bay stag, large imprints brought about by his falling flints left in an even trail behind him, telling the story of his current travels. Trance pinned his ears flat against his skull as lightning and thunder again crashed in the heavens. Lips drew back as far as they could to reveal the dangerous gleam of teeth, neck snaking forward to lash out at an invisible enemy. His gallop was momentarily paused as his legs struck out behind him so that he could release a wild buck, hooves landing perfectly so that movement afterwards was unimpeded. Mind was empty as his thoughts were on the ground swiftly passing beneath his hooves and the storm that raged overhead.
The stallion slowed his race against the weather to come down to a gliding trot. Here, he was forced to be aware of the trees that edged his path and the patches of mud that sought to drag him down beneath the earth’s surface. Hooves flitted over patches of emerald turf, ever moving forward with a lofty spring in his step. The broad leaves of the trees stretched above him, blocking the water until they could no longer resist the weight and permitted the collected rainwater to cascade down to the loam of the floor. Breaths came heavy as each vaulted step carried the masculine figure further until he reached the edges of a lagoon. Danger was whispered through the trees as he moved now, danger that Trance wished to meet. His adventurous spirit was captivated by this territory, the raw beauty that lurked before the shadows of hazard. It was not all danger, though; there were many places that appeared to the bay stag as secluded, safe havens that could house a herd honorably. Trance himself felt strangely safe in this area, as if the darkness and haunted appearance were welcoming to his style. The thought of danger was like a drug at times in the stallion’s mind, causing him to act irrationally out of a need to feel the exhilaration of fear.
Without warning, Trance suddenly quickly came to a halt, lifting himself back onto his hind hooves with muscles bunching in his haunches as he pivoted around upon his hocks in an intricate dance movement. A strong need to release the pent up energy inside overcame him then, encouraged by the excitement found in the storm. As lightning crashed again, the stallion struck out with a front leg, pawing the air mightily with the aura of a king. A tree trunk that proved to be offensive as it was in close vicinity to him became a target as the stallion whirled about to face it. Rocking back onto brawny hindquarters for power, Trance launched forward towards the tree, sliding to a delicate halt just within striking distance. Maw parted to unleash a squeal into the atmosphere as his front legs were lifted off the ground. He played in this ancient battle dance, rocking backwards and forwards, lashing out at the innocuous tree so that hooves left a scathing slash across the bark. He crouched then with the semblance of a cougar, shoulders hunched forwards as he circled his mark. With fierce determination, he grappled the tree with sturdy forelegs, dulled, omnivorous teeth burying themselves in the bark that surrendered easily. Satisfaction crossed the stag’s mind, a bright flare reflected in his orbs as he surveyed his work, pride in his own strength giving a proud arch to his Spanish neck. All of a sudden, consciousness of his actions hit Trance so that he realized how absolutely silly he probably looked. Immediately he calmed from the wild beast to the perfect semblance of a placid, noble brute, auds swiveling innocently atop his crown as he turned humiliated away from the harmless structure of nature. Still, though, beneath that layer of humiliation remained the pride he held for his prowess. Prowess that had failed him before and lost him his love, but prowess nonetheless. Ever since he had lost that battle those years ago, he had devoted his entire corporeal vigor to improving his fighting techniques. Now, although he had been greatly humbled once before, he was confident that he would not allow himself to lose again. Next time if he were to lose, he would not walk away with breath still in his lungs. He would rather die than have the same incident happen twice. Anger at his own insufficiency boiled up again in the stallion’s mind as he recalled that tragic event, the look in poor Tarra’s eyes as she had watched him take that blow to his side that had left him breathless and weak, giving the alternate stallion opportunity to offer the final strike that had nearly killed him. With utter hatred he remembered the sneering look in the other stallion’s eyes as he had stared down at him while he lay immobile in the grimy dust of defeat. He could do nothing, only watch with a searing pain in his heart as his only love was herded away. The one he could not defend. The one he had failed. Intense anger swallowed the stallion as he examined himself while staring out at the lonely waters that brewed with the storm’s wrath. He would never permit such an event to occur again.
His hooves began movement again, much more relaxed and less agitated in their cadence as his thoughts smoothed out in confidence. He strode upon this terra as if he owned the place, maw held high in the semblance of the warrior he was. The rain still fell, but he did not even bat his eyes or shake his body in response, simply accepted the conditions as they were and walked as if the skies were clear of any disturbance. Perhaps he could be king of this terra, embrace its danger as his own. It matched him rather suitably, he presumed. He loved the aspects of this place and the mysterious beauty that clung to the width of the trees and the monsters prowling in the depths of the waters. He was confident that he could protect any he chose to bring here, so that was not a worry. Alligators did not pose a threat to the powerful stag. He knew he could defeat any adversary he desired if he set his will against it.
~~~
ooc: Sorry its so horrible and fake with him fighting the tree. I just got that silly thought in my head and had to follow it. My good muse is seriously lacking right now, but I wanted to create him while I had the idea in my head. I’m going to use this post to claim a territory, I think, since I couldn’t come up with much else to post for him except perhaps a flashback of the battle over Tarra that would most probably be overly drawn out and boring to meet requirements. Anyways. I’m sure you needed to know all that, haha.
Also, just so you know, I'm Alida, too.
