Post by +Heyoka+ on Jul 28, 2007 13:45:50 GMT -5
Character name:Heyoka
Gender:Male
Age:9 weeks
History [if available]: By all he can remeber, his parents disappeared after a big snow, and then he was left to fend for himself.
Example post [MUST be 500 words or more]:AGH! HECK NO!!!
Well, here goes nothing.
Skull low, carcass aching from her most previous beating. Crimson poured from her as the blood suckers caused more of the crimson to pour from her. Staying where they had watched the toy take a clumsy practice rounds on one of the coltines, then get ripped by the lead stallions daggers. Left again for vulture food. The crimson soaked skull began to work again as the beating re-occured in her crazed mind.
Grazing off from the heard the vix had hoped for a day like this in such a long time. Not once talked to, not once stalked. But then he had come. The one she had taken to calling Master. Lord was not good enough for him. Healing from her previous cuts he had called over his oldest coltine to gain his streinght on her. As usual such a lowly place, even among the other slaves she was beaten, and never allowed to fight back. Dissy as she was when the coltine had grown tired of her Master had come back. Pissed over the fight with his lead mare, he needed something to take it out on. All but four of the slave mares were heavy with foal, beatings were getting harsher on only the one fae. There she stayed as the gentle nippings went into bites, and from there to kicks. Kicks went to him bucking at her, having all intentions of killing the worthless pregnant dog. Carcass fell and Master left her to die like this. Crimson drooling from her, vultures picking at her. When at last she could stand she shook the bloody maggots from her best she could and there she stayed with her skull low, daggers sinking slightly.
She could hear a low, deep chuckle, comming from far off. Or was it close by? She could never really tell after a beating this harsh. No. it was near. It was him, it was Master. Breeding had to take place, but he had come to see if she was dead yet. She wasn't sure which would amuse him more, finding her dead, or half dead. Not bothering to look at him again she stared at the dirt, anger filling her. Daggers wanted so badley to kill the stupid bastard. The chuckling bastard. He could feel his razors entering her bodice, digging in deep, but she stayed silent. Kill me. I dare you. Her thoughts were repeated, but he continued to dig his razors into various parts of her body. He wanted her to scream out, as she had done in her first beating. But nothing happened. Standing from afar was a small filly, watching the mare, and wondering if that was to be her destiny as well. Filly of the slaves. But Magic was sick of the biting, and ready to show this filly, that no lazy brute such as this one was going to annoy her again. After all, he clearly couldn't kill her.
Lifting her now crimson colored skull she shook his, splattering it everywhere. Weak from the beating, but strong at heart she bit back at him. Razors sinking deep into his neck. Pissing him off he began to beat her again, but she couldn't seem to go down, or even release her grip on his neck. Taking the beating as she dug her razors deep she could hear small steps, then more, when looking again she could see the herd around them. He reared, lifting her up off the ground, but he continued to rear, getting higher...higher...higher... Landing with a thud before he went over backwards she began to loose her grip and when she did she was standing only for a minute, before she was down on the ground, surrounded by her crimson again. The filly seemed almost happy at least one mare had stood up for them. But they all faded away as Magic struggled to her feet. Helped by the filly, but then she stood there, awaited for the brute to come back as the filly left. She could die today. And dying sounds like fun.
Standing lowly with her skull down, body aching, three moons after her small battle with the brute, she had not moved. Lipping at a puddle of water left from a sprinkle. She was sure that the herd had left her. With all hope thats what they had done. But at the fourth moon she could hear them again, and smell. The filly was back. But Magic was clueless as to why they were still here, they never stay at a place for four moons. Never. Ah well, too bad, it would have felt nice to die here. The brute had come back for her as he nipped her back to where the rest of the mares were. What the hell? This wasn't where she belonged. Why isn't she with the slaves?
meep bad...ugh!
Gender:Male
Age:9 weeks
History [if available]: By all he can remeber, his parents disappeared after a big snow, and then he was left to fend for himself.
Example post [MUST be 500 words or more]:AGH! HECK NO!!!
Well, here goes nothing.
Skull low, carcass aching from her most previous beating. Crimson poured from her as the blood suckers caused more of the crimson to pour from her. Staying where they had watched the toy take a clumsy practice rounds on one of the coltines, then get ripped by the lead stallions daggers. Left again for vulture food. The crimson soaked skull began to work again as the beating re-occured in her crazed mind.
Grazing off from the heard the vix had hoped for a day like this in such a long time. Not once talked to, not once stalked. But then he had come. The one she had taken to calling Master. Lord was not good enough for him. Healing from her previous cuts he had called over his oldest coltine to gain his streinght on her. As usual such a lowly place, even among the other slaves she was beaten, and never allowed to fight back. Dissy as she was when the coltine had grown tired of her Master had come back. Pissed over the fight with his lead mare, he needed something to take it out on. All but four of the slave mares were heavy with foal, beatings were getting harsher on only the one fae. There she stayed as the gentle nippings went into bites, and from there to kicks. Kicks went to him bucking at her, having all intentions of killing the worthless pregnant dog. Carcass fell and Master left her to die like this. Crimson drooling from her, vultures picking at her. When at last she could stand she shook the bloody maggots from her best she could and there she stayed with her skull low, daggers sinking slightly.
She could hear a low, deep chuckle, comming from far off. Or was it close by? She could never really tell after a beating this harsh. No. it was near. It was him, it was Master. Breeding had to take place, but he had come to see if she was dead yet. She wasn't sure which would amuse him more, finding her dead, or half dead. Not bothering to look at him again she stared at the dirt, anger filling her. Daggers wanted so badley to kill the stupid bastard. The chuckling bastard. He could feel his razors entering her bodice, digging in deep, but she stayed silent. Kill me. I dare you. Her thoughts were repeated, but he continued to dig his razors into various parts of her body. He wanted her to scream out, as she had done in her first beating. But nothing happened. Standing from afar was a small filly, watching the mare, and wondering if that was to be her destiny as well. Filly of the slaves. But Magic was sick of the biting, and ready to show this filly, that no lazy brute such as this one was going to annoy her again. After all, he clearly couldn't kill her.
Lifting her now crimson colored skull she shook his, splattering it everywhere. Weak from the beating, but strong at heart she bit back at him. Razors sinking deep into his neck. Pissing him off he began to beat her again, but she couldn't seem to go down, or even release her grip on his neck. Taking the beating as she dug her razors deep she could hear small steps, then more, when looking again she could see the herd around them. He reared, lifting her up off the ground, but he continued to rear, getting higher...higher...higher... Landing with a thud before he went over backwards she began to loose her grip and when she did she was standing only for a minute, before she was down on the ground, surrounded by her crimson again. The filly seemed almost happy at least one mare had stood up for them. But they all faded away as Magic struggled to her feet. Helped by the filly, but then she stood there, awaited for the brute to come back as the filly left. She could die today. And dying sounds like fun.
Standing lowly with her skull down, body aching, three moons after her small battle with the brute, she had not moved. Lipping at a puddle of water left from a sprinkle. She was sure that the herd had left her. With all hope thats what they had done. But at the fourth moon she could hear them again, and smell. The filly was back. But Magic was clueless as to why they were still here, they never stay at a place for four moons. Never. Ah well, too bad, it would have felt nice to die here. The brute had come back for her as he nipped her back to where the rest of the mares were. What the hell? This wasn't where she belonged. Why isn't she with the slaves?
meep bad...ugh!