Post by Deleted on Oct 28, 2013 15:57:59 GMT -7
Picture Here
Name: Nathair
Gender: Mare
Breed: Irish Sport Horse xXx Andalusian
Age: 3 years
Arrived in MUSTANG: Fall ; Year Seven
Coat Color: Grey ; Black Base.
Markings: Her muzzle has a faint grey to it. Her eyes have black around it and the way the black goes makes her appear to have tears of black, or that is how some have described her. On a small note, she has black hooves
Height: 16.2hh
Eye Color: Has what is called glasseyes, her iris is a whiteish blue[very pale blue] and her pupil is deep blueish black
Personality:One word describes this mare, Sadist. She is in every term a sadist. This mare seems like she is a sweetheart, but what lies under her skin is nothing but snakes. Even though she is so young, she desires power and evil. She has an odd way of drawing those in to her. Though very young, she has seen enough of the world to know its evils and knows only that she wishes to be part of it. But to further everything, we must break her down.
In a nutshell, Nathair is the kind of mare who is tall, fast, and graceful to a fault. She holds little respect for anyone. One of her neatest tricks is her way she deals with others, especially snakes. As her namesake means, snake, she seems to convey to those slithery creatures that she is one of them. Most in her old herd feared her after one incident. She is nothing but an untrusting creature. Though this is just the tip of the iceberg, there is so much more that lies inside this twisted beast. When first encountering Nathair, she seems sweet as ever, like a prim and proper mare. But this is just her hook to get you close. Nathair quickly shows her colors, though she may be white in color, she is a dark soul by nature. Mental illness isn’t something she has and sometimes she will act like it to make others repulsed by her. She knows she is beautiful, even though she is tall, even though she isn’t purebred; she acts like she is the whole buffet. And on a side note, any who try to force her whether it be breeding or keeping her prisoner, better prepare themselves for a fight.
History:My life started when my eyes opened and I heard my mother exclaim how beautiful I was. My father exclaimed how strong I was when I made it to my hooves in no time. I guess they saw me as something special. In my herd, foals didn’t get named until they were older. My black fur was something to behold with my pale blue eyes. Unique as I was, born right before the bitter days of harsh winter. In time, I grew and my pelt lost the blackness for white. I grew strong and tall. Advanced for my age I suppose. At one year of my life, I had been the most beautiful filly, everyone knew this truth and my father had to try extra hard to keep the eager colts at bay. Now when I look back, I laugh at how foolish those creatures were.
It was in my first year of life I was to receive my name. A rogue stallion came through the herd, asking my father for food, water, and shelter for a week. My father, the king, graciously gave the visitor that which he asked. The stallion looked worn and ancient. When his black eyes fell on me, I saw something in his eyes. An emotion I hadn’t yet witnessed till now. He asked what my name was, I remember only because he had a thick funny accent. My father also held it, said it was Irish. Who would have thought, an Irish devil and a Spanish beauty feel in love. In any case, both my parents wanted something beautiful for me. This stallion suggested Nathair. And that had become my namesake. Guess now my father had been so fair gone from his native tongue that he hadn’t known the meaning.
It was in the week that I and some other fillies were playing. I had stumbled and fell into a ditch full of vipers. Deadly snakes. I didn’t move first out of fear, then out of fascination. The others ran for my father and mother. And who should happen to come but the stallion responsible for my name. He didn’t seem nearly as shocked as the others. With careful and quiet movements and a soft hissing noise from myself, I managed to get up. I avoided stepping on the creatures; dainty movements came as I slowly made my way out of the ditch. Untouched and completely beside myself, I didn’t know what happened but I was grateful. My parents were to but the old stallion thanked my parents and left before the week was over. Others had already been speaking of me being a witch.
My second year rolled around and I was growing bored of colts who tried to win my affection. In more than one case did I come across snakes and would often try and tempt the creatures into conversation. To my amazement, some would slither over my body and whisper in my ear, they would tell me of their journeys and travels. Thanked me for being understanding and not hurting them. It wasn’t long before I called the snakes my sisters and brothers. But even so, my parents’ patience with me was dwindling and I found now solitude to speak with my smooth friends. I didn’t know if everyone spoke with these creatures, but I could. Towards the middle end of my second year, there was a filly who was calling me a witch and threatened to mare my beautiful hide.
In my anger, I struck her down. The sound she made was music to my ears. I never knew how good someone could sound when in pain. The delicious chill that spread through me like a warm glow. I let out a delighted hiss. She never messed with me and one day a passing herd came through. Father granted them stay. I met this filly, my age, and just as beautiful as I. She was something else. We spent every waking moment together. It nearly killed me when she left and so I hardened myself. When others made fun of me, I became violent and more often than not tore their flesh. Their cries always made me happy. My parents couldn’t handle me, so I was sent away. My herd was already scared of me. I, in my anger, went to the ditch full of vipers and whispered to them, that my herds’ innards were to be their playpens.
The vipers answered with delighted hisses. It was that night I heard screams that rose up and chaos break loose. It only exhilarated me. I had no family. And that served the fuckers right for dropping me so easy. It was a week ago, when I found the stallion who gave me my name sake. He didn’t recognize me until I had tossed my mane. His sharp inhale told me he knew. In the end I learned my name. He spoke it with disgust and hatred. Like I was something vile. I didn’t like his tone. That was my first kill. His screams made my life worth every moment I was alive. It’s now a week later and I’m looking for more fun and excitement. Will I find it?[/u][/i]
----------------------
From a rating of one to ten [ten being the best], what would you rate MUSTANG?: So far I'd say a 8-9
What do you suggest we do next/improve?: Don't know yet.
Where did you find us?: Wild Equines v3
What would you like to be called?: Zombie or ZR
[/size]
Name: Nathair
Gender: Mare
Breed: Irish Sport Horse xXx Andalusian
Age: 3 years
Arrived in MUSTANG: Fall ; Year Seven
Coat Color: Grey ; Black Base.
Markings: Her muzzle has a faint grey to it. Her eyes have black around it and the way the black goes makes her appear to have tears of black, or that is how some have described her. On a small note, she has black hooves
Height: 16.2hh
Eye Color: Has what is called glasseyes, her iris is a whiteish blue[very pale blue] and her pupil is deep blueish black
Personality:One word describes this mare, Sadist. She is in every term a sadist. This mare seems like she is a sweetheart, but what lies under her skin is nothing but snakes. Even though she is so young, she desires power and evil. She has an odd way of drawing those in to her. Though very young, she has seen enough of the world to know its evils and knows only that she wishes to be part of it. But to further everything, we must break her down.
In a nutshell, Nathair is the kind of mare who is tall, fast, and graceful to a fault. She holds little respect for anyone. One of her neatest tricks is her way she deals with others, especially snakes. As her namesake means, snake, she seems to convey to those slithery creatures that she is one of them. Most in her old herd feared her after one incident. She is nothing but an untrusting creature. Though this is just the tip of the iceberg, there is so much more that lies inside this twisted beast. When first encountering Nathair, she seems sweet as ever, like a prim and proper mare. But this is just her hook to get you close. Nathair quickly shows her colors, though she may be white in color, she is a dark soul by nature. Mental illness isn’t something she has and sometimes she will act like it to make others repulsed by her. She knows she is beautiful, even though she is tall, even though she isn’t purebred; she acts like she is the whole buffet. And on a side note, any who try to force her whether it be breeding or keeping her prisoner, better prepare themselves for a fight.
History:My life started when my eyes opened and I heard my mother exclaim how beautiful I was. My father exclaimed how strong I was when I made it to my hooves in no time. I guess they saw me as something special. In my herd, foals didn’t get named until they were older. My black fur was something to behold with my pale blue eyes. Unique as I was, born right before the bitter days of harsh winter. In time, I grew and my pelt lost the blackness for white. I grew strong and tall. Advanced for my age I suppose. At one year of my life, I had been the most beautiful filly, everyone knew this truth and my father had to try extra hard to keep the eager colts at bay. Now when I look back, I laugh at how foolish those creatures were.
It was in my first year of life I was to receive my name. A rogue stallion came through the herd, asking my father for food, water, and shelter for a week. My father, the king, graciously gave the visitor that which he asked. The stallion looked worn and ancient. When his black eyes fell on me, I saw something in his eyes. An emotion I hadn’t yet witnessed till now. He asked what my name was, I remember only because he had a thick funny accent. My father also held it, said it was Irish. Who would have thought, an Irish devil and a Spanish beauty feel in love. In any case, both my parents wanted something beautiful for me. This stallion suggested Nathair. And that had become my namesake. Guess now my father had been so fair gone from his native tongue that he hadn’t known the meaning.
It was in the week that I and some other fillies were playing. I had stumbled and fell into a ditch full of vipers. Deadly snakes. I didn’t move first out of fear, then out of fascination. The others ran for my father and mother. And who should happen to come but the stallion responsible for my name. He didn’t seem nearly as shocked as the others. With careful and quiet movements and a soft hissing noise from myself, I managed to get up. I avoided stepping on the creatures; dainty movements came as I slowly made my way out of the ditch. Untouched and completely beside myself, I didn’t know what happened but I was grateful. My parents were to but the old stallion thanked my parents and left before the week was over. Others had already been speaking of me being a witch.
My second year rolled around and I was growing bored of colts who tried to win my affection. In more than one case did I come across snakes and would often try and tempt the creatures into conversation. To my amazement, some would slither over my body and whisper in my ear, they would tell me of their journeys and travels. Thanked me for being understanding and not hurting them. It wasn’t long before I called the snakes my sisters and brothers. But even so, my parents’ patience with me was dwindling and I found now solitude to speak with my smooth friends. I didn’t know if everyone spoke with these creatures, but I could. Towards the middle end of my second year, there was a filly who was calling me a witch and threatened to mare my beautiful hide.
In my anger, I struck her down. The sound she made was music to my ears. I never knew how good someone could sound when in pain. The delicious chill that spread through me like a warm glow. I let out a delighted hiss. She never messed with me and one day a passing herd came through. Father granted them stay. I met this filly, my age, and just as beautiful as I. She was something else. We spent every waking moment together. It nearly killed me when she left and so I hardened myself. When others made fun of me, I became violent and more often than not tore their flesh. Their cries always made me happy. My parents couldn’t handle me, so I was sent away. My herd was already scared of me. I, in my anger, went to the ditch full of vipers and whispered to them, that my herds’ innards were to be their playpens.
The vipers answered with delighted hisses. It was that night I heard screams that rose up and chaos break loose. It only exhilarated me. I had no family. And that served the fuckers right for dropping me so easy. It was a week ago, when I found the stallion who gave me my name sake. He didn’t recognize me until I had tossed my mane. His sharp inhale told me he knew. In the end I learned my name. He spoke it with disgust and hatred. Like I was something vile. I didn’t like his tone. That was my first kill. His screams made my life worth every moment I was alive. It’s now a week later and I’m looking for more fun and excitement. Will I find it?[/u][/i]
----------------------
From a rating of one to ten [ten being the best], what would you rate MUSTANG?: So far I'd say a 8-9
What do you suggest we do next/improve?: Don't know yet.
Where did you find us?: Wild Equines v3
What would you like to be called?: Zombie or ZR
[/size]
I'm still Splashs on there!
I miss rping.
![The Cimarron Hearts v3](http://i52.tinypic.com/w06c2a.png"){kind=small}
