Post by A z z y on Feb 12, 2024 8:35:12 GMT -7
A mass adoption for those I rarely, if at all, RP.
Terms are very much the same for all - please do not use their designs or bios elsewhere. No auditions needed, first come, first serve!
Name: Ivar
Breed: Percheron x Clydesdale x Friesian x Thoroughbred x Dutch Warmblood x Appaloosa
Age: 7
Gender: Stallion
Alliance: Dark
Pelt Color: black based grey & black chimera
Mane and Tail color: Black with white stripes where the white stripes on his body meet his neck.
Eye Color:Black with silver rings around his pupil
Markings: Chimera markings, white blaze, four white socks, stripes across his face, neck and back. Darker spots on his shoulders and haunches. The black dots with lines coming out are not part of his design.
Hooves: Grey
Height: 18hh
Mental/Physical Conditions: None
Personality: Ivar is cunning, he is quick witted and he is vicious. Sharper than any blade, Ivar will find the chink in any armour and will pull his target apart from the inside out. Ivar has an almost casual authoritarian approach to his life - a contradiction perhaps yet he wears it well. On one hand he will seem like your greatest ally yet as soon as your back is turned, the truth will out. Ivar is vindictive, he will plot and scheme for however long it takes until the desired outcome has been achieved. He is a strategist, he knows the battlefield well and has the capability to lead great armies, should he ever wish to turn his hand to it. Ivar fears little, if anything. His only fear, if he was ever to tell you, is that he fears being forgotten. In his mind, what is the point in life if you leave no mark on it? Ivar has known love, in its many sick and twisted guises and in turn, has learned to love in his own sick and twisted fashion. He views love as possession and obsession, a means to an end. There is at times a childlike charm to him, something that he rarely shows as he considers it his vulnerable side, something to keep very much to himself. Ivar firmly believes that respect and fear go hand in hand, his experience has shown him that fear gives him the best results. With this, Ivar has no morals, no remorse, no empathy. He will cut any who stand before him, regardless of who they may be. (269)
History: There was no real reason for Ivar to be the way he is. Raised the youngest son of an earl, he was by far the closest in line to the throne. His father was idolised by them all, a great warrior, adventurer, a good leader. His mother, the alleged witch, was the mother to only four of the sons, yet Ivar was her favourite. She mollycoddled him, wrapped him in cotton wool to do all she could to protect him from the evil within the world. Yet as he grew, so did his vision. Ivar craved power, he craved the throne he would never sit upon. It plagued his dreams, haunted his every waking thought. He grew alongside his brothers, fighting, training, learning. Yet it was during one particular sparring match did it become clear Ivar wasn't quite right. After being taunted by another young colt about his mother, Ivar killed the colt in cold blood. He was hurried away and the herd did not speak of it, at least not to him. As time passed, his father died and his mother left in the dead of the night never to be seen again. The brothers rose to the challenge, apart from Ivar, who made his upset known over time.
It was not long after the departure of his mother, did Ivar truly begin to show his true colours. He became erratic, vicious, quick to the jugular when necessary. He found his temper shortening daily with his brothers - finding their mourning and lack of desire to change irritating. During a discussion with his brothers over the ascension to the lead of the herd, his middle brother rose to the challenge, yet Ivar was much taller, and growing ever more tired of the constant back and fourth, delivered the same fatal blow to his brother as he had done to the colt when he was younger. Even Ivar knew at that point he would not stand a chance against his three older brothers and before they had a chance to attack, he was gone. Ivar rallied up some fo the herd, persuading them to come with him and over the time, the herd grew. Ivar returned, a year or so later and reclaimed his place at the helm of the herd he had grown up in. Two of his brothers fled, the last one he kept alive, for his own entertainment of course. The herd was substantial yet Ivar wanted more, he wanted fresh blood. So he left, leaving his second in command in charge, hoping to return with more soldiers for the army. He is yet to return.
link to store items
Link to Creation/Breeding Bio: wildequinesv3.proboards.com/thread/36721/ivar-complete
Original Roleplayer: me!
Terms*:
- to remain on WE only
- to remain in the helkaer
- should the adopter become inactive or no longer want him, he returns to me
Name: Omen
Breed: Appaloosa x Akhal Teke x Mustang x Thoroughbred
Age: 8 at death
Gender: Mare
Alliance: Dark/Underworld
Pelt Color: Silver black splash leopard appaloosa
Mane and Tail color: White
Eye Color: Pale Canary
Markings: Odd cross marking on face, splash marking on underbelly.
As a demon will have generic bull horns
Hooves: Hind are black, front are white. Unlike the design, she does not have shoes.
Height: 16.2hh
Mental/Physical Conditions: Narcissistic, Socioppathic, Histrionic personality disorder
Personality:
Omen is as youโd expect her to be โ deceptive, cunning, cutthroat. She has no thought nor consideration for the morality of a situation, no matter how emotionally charged it may be. As long as her needs and goals are met, she is happy. She is manipulative and quick, seemingly able to pick out the weaknesses of her encounters with ease before using them to her advantage. She seemingly has no understanding of her own emotions and how they play into her decisions, which in her mind at least, makes her unstoppable. For the right cause, Omen is undeniably loyal โ she will go to the ends of the earth for her chosen ally, no matter what they may ask of her. However, Omen does not forgive, at all. Once burnt, she will savagely remove the cause from hr life, no matter how important they may have been. Omen believes herself to be the best at her game, she is not averse to resorting to violence and in many cases, relishes the battle.
History:
TW Violence/SA
Born to a herd of evil loyalists, Omen did not know her own sire. The harem of mares she belonged to believed there to be only one true male - the devil. Her father, a donor kept as a slave, was brutally sacrificed after inseminating the chosen mares, his blood offered to the devil in the hopes the next generation of foals would be just as successful as the last. Omen was born under a blood moon, at the beginning of autumn, the only of her crop to be as intricately marked as she was. The only one to be marked with the upside down cross she was quickly favoured by the coven, trained extensively from the age of two. She knew no warmth, no maternal or paternal instinct, she felt no desire to love or be loved or to procreate. Her drive was to win, to be the best, to overpower and rule whatever stood in her way.
And this is how it went for Omen as she grew. The coven challenged any they wished. Taking stallions to repopulate, using mares to brainwash and grow their numbers. Colts were kept if deemed useful, even as canon fodder. Omen soon took over a more strategic role within the harem, becoming akin to a war admiral if a title had been given. She was always eerily happy to dispose of any being of any gender or age if it meant victory, if it meant appeasing the devil. Yet, as with all winning streaks, they come to an end. Overzealous, she took it upon herself one day to ambush a group of bachelor stallions who had began to infringe upon the lands the coven ruled over. Deciding on a night ambush, alone, she endeavoured to attack the group, knowing that if anyone could get the job done, it was her. But she was wrong. They managed to overpower her, they assaulted her and violated her as they so wished until eventually ending her life abruptly and savagely.
Store Items: wildequinesv3.proboards.com/thread/39136/items-omen
Link to Creation/Breeding Bio: wildequinesv3.proboards.com/thread/38502/omen-underworld-tw-violence-sa
Original Roleplayer: me!
Terms*:
- to remain on WE only
- to remain in the UW
- should the adopter become inactive or no longer want her, she returns to me
Adopted by JUNI!
Name: Sabbath
Breed: Akhal Teke x Trakhener
Age: 9
Gender: Mare
Alliance: Unallianced
Pelt Color: Dappled Sooty Liver Chestnut
Mane and Tail color: Dark russet/brown to a chestnut red sun fade
Eye Color: Dark Red
Markings: Irregular Badger face, half sock on front left, sock on back left, white fetlock on back left. Several scars littered over her.
Hooves: Front left striped, back right white, others are slate
Height: 16.2hh
Mental/Physical Conditions: None
Personality: Spitfire would be a perfect word to describe Sabbath - hot headed with a barbed tongue, Sabbath loves nothing more than prodding the bear. Especially if the bear is likely to fight back just as hard! She's cunning, dangerous and quick witted, not afraid to pull anyone apart with her words before her teeth come into play. Sabbath can be flirtatious, she much prefers the company of stallions and finds mares to be overly dramatic and usually trying to be something they are not capable of. Sabbath can be brutally honest, deception only being required if truly necessary - usually the truth hits much harder. She enjoys finding the weaknesses of others and using that to her advantage. Sabbath can be loyal, if provided the right incentives but usually prefers to be alone. Love to her is weakness, but that hasnt stopped her falling in the past, regardless of the promise she made to never succumb to her emotions. She's fierce, driven and cutthroat, both the perfect ally and adversary.
History: Born as part of an intense programme within a distant herd, Sabbath was made for war. She was made to be beautiful and dangerous, a double agent. A snake. The herd did not hide her reason for being and regularly exposed her to the training she would soon have to endure. And endure she would. From six months of age, Sabbath had to learn to defend herself, to block unexpected attacks from both her family and the other youngsters in the training programme. She was taught to never let her guard down, never show weakness, never take her mind and eyes off the target. Daily, she would be ambushed, sometimes in jest, other times not, quickly learning to defend herself against beings her own size and sometimes bigger.
Soon, Sabbath learned that to be the first to make the move, to land the first hit. As her strength grew, so did her ability to sieze opportunities. It would be her at the forefront of attacks, almost bullying the smaller equines - but it meant she was on top, it meant the respect for her grew. Once two years of age, Sabbath began engaging in planned brawls with other members of the herd. Similar to gladiator tournaments, Sabbath fought until she won or she could fight no longer. The more she fought, the more she got a taste for it, for violence. Years dripped by and she truly grew into herself - a fighter with the looks to boot she had many a stallion readily throwing himself at her feet. Only for Sabbath to step over them, disinterested in their mere existence.
As part of a raiding party, Sabbath left the safety of the valley one dark night, not knowing it would be the last time she would see it. The party were aiming to strike a nearby territory, the two factions regularly warring. However, Sabbath hoped that night would have been the night they ended any further warring, that their party would overpower their enemies and reap the rewards from the lands. And it was, until they were met with a larger group of equines than they had anticipated. The fray was brutal and bloody, Sabbath being chased out by a band of stallions into territories unknown, never to return home.
Link to Creation/Breeding Bio: wildequinesv3.proboards.com/thread/39589/sabbath
Original Roleplayer: me!
Terms*:
- to remain on WE only
- to remain in THK, or dark kingdom
- should the adopter become inactive or no longer want her, she returns to me
Claimed by juliet
Name: Salem
Breed: Thoroughbred x Andalusian x Holstein x Shire x Arab x Nonius x Friesian x Percheron x Hanoverian
Age: 5
Gender: Stallion
Alliance: Dark
Height: 18.1 hands
Pelt Color: Black
Genetics: EE/aa
Eye Color: Black
Mane/Tail Color: Black
Hoof Color: Slate
Markings: Dark grey, almost black bio-hazard symbol on his pectoral muscles
Physical Health: 100% - As a Cambion, he will carry the sickness Equine Infectious Anemia Virus and be able to spread it through bodily fluids, though he will not be effected by it. The virus can show in three different ways: acute, subacute and chronic. In an acute case, the horse's symptoms may include a high fever, weak pulse, anemia, irregular heartbeat, swelling of the legs and abdominal, and weakness. In these cases, it's possible for a sudden death. In a subacute case, the symptoms may include fever, anemia, weight loss, and swelling of the abdominal, chest and legs. In a chronic case, the symptoms may include that the horse tires easily, a reoccurring fever, anemia and the chance of relapsing to a more serious stage. Some horses who become infected may not show any symptoms, though pregnant mares will commonly abort.
Mental Health: 100%
Link to Creation/Breeding Bio: wildequinesv3.proboards.com/thread/27367/surgeon-artemisia
Original Roleplayer: me!
Terms*:
- to remain on WE only
- to remain in the helkaer
- should the adopter become inactive or no longer want him, he returns to me
- this is the babe of two of my personal favourite characters ever! I would love to see him active and involved with his siblings (especially given one is Thomasin... and one is Xerxes ๐) claimed by medilic
Name: Odysseus.
Breed: Kladruber x Percheron x Dutch Warmblood x Nonius x Friesian x Clydesdale x American Paint Horse
Age: 8
Gender: Stallion
Alliance: Unallianced
Pelt Color: Faded Dark bay with chimeric gold champagne
Mane and Tail color: Black with stripes of white
Eye Color: White
Markings: Bald face with minimal tobiano markings along hairline
Hooves: Front two are a dark peach, hind two are black
Height: 18.3hh
Mental/Physical Conditions: Fainting due to Vampirism
Personality: Odysseus is a stoic creature, one who follows no set path nor definition. There is a noble air to him, one that garners the attention of others, one that commands their loyalty. He is unassuming yet intimidating, an imposing creature adorned with scars which are testament to his victories. Despite his icy exterior, Odysseus is a caring man for those he chooses to care about. On the other hand, he has an eerie ability to callously disregard those that don't matter to him, regardless of their own self importance or the title they hold. Odysseus is vicious, a worthy opponent on the battlefield with an unmatched vehemence for any adversary he meets. Despite the cold and calculated approach he has to the world, he is fiercely loyal to those he believes deserve such. Odysseus is entirely capable of love, yet is easily swayed by jealousy and can become possessive, violently so, if he deems it to be worthy of such energy. He can appear aloof to some, arrogantly set in his ways yet there remains to be a deep intelligence behind whatever words come from his mouth. (187)
History: Odysseus was born a prince, the first in line to a throne many realms away from that of Wild Equines. They were not governed by those of alliances nor factions, but by their dexterity and integrity alone. His lineage had remained within power for generations, a long line of Kings and Queens that remained etched in the stones of their fallen castles. Odysseus had been raised with a refined grace and decorum, nobility clearly flowing through his veins as it had done for his predecessors. He was bought up with history and intellect, the depths of his almost icelandic accent were clipped and shaped to a rough yet smooth tone, and as he grew, the tones became almost harmonious; a war cry unlike any heard before. It was custom for the Prince to take his band of allies out hunting once they turned three years of age; full of testosterone and energy it was the perfect time to vent their frustrations. The hunts were used to gather pelts from deers, to allow the carcasses of those they took as an offering for the ravenous wolves that lived within their homes. Yet it was on this occasion that things took an unexpected turn. As the heir to the throne, Odysseus was to bring down the stag.
As the hunt progressed, Odysseus locked onto the target, the stag falling beneath his gargantuan mass as he sank his enamels into the nape of the creature. he bought it down tactfully, finishing the job as he had been instructed to do. Yet, as the tang of iron sank into his saliva, something shifted within him. Hours seemed to pass by until the hunting party found him, feasting off the flesh and blood of the stag. Odysseus didn't notice them hurry home, he didn't notice the King standing over him as the sun rose over the trees. Odysseus was banished, against the pleas of his mother, he was exiled into the barren lands. Those who he had once trusted pinned held him in place, five of them doing all they could as his mane was braided twice, a symbol of his exile to all those that fell under the governance of their king. Odysseus left, forced into the wide world without a second thought from his family or friends. He felt something shift within him then, an armour forming over him as he too turned his back easily upon them.
Years passed as Odysseus wandered the earth, meeting those in similar predicaments to himself. Yet despite all requests for his presence within their motley crews, Odysseus remained absent, a loner. He feasted on the flesh and blood of kills left behind from wolves or from his own slaughters. A few joined him yet were soon put off by the gruesome nature of the beast. Odysseus fought with bands of stallions regularly, owning the right of passage through whichever territories he passed. He fell in love for a night here and there but callously kicked them aside when the dawn rose. Yet, something continuously drove him on, further and further from his homeland and closer to Wild Equines. (522)
Link to store items
FAO STAFF: Icy contacted me about the vampire horse and I believe it is now including cannibalism as well. If this is the case, he may need an extra side affect, so just let me know and I will amend accordingly
Link to Creation/Breeding Bio: wildequinesv3.proboards.com/thread/34295/odysseus
Original Roleplayer: me!
Terms*:
- to remain on WE only
- should the adopter become inactive or no longer want him, he returns to me[/font]
Name: Skรถll
Breed: Akhal-Teke x Dutch Warmblood
Age: 10 at death
Gender: Stallion
Alliance: Unallianced
Pelt Color: Sooty Buckskin
Mane and Tail color: Black
Eye Color: Orange
Markings: Four white stockings. Large scar on forehead.
Hooves: white
Height: 17hh
Mental/Physical Conditions: None
Personality: At first glance, to many, Skรถll appears unapproachable, callous and perhaps even cold. Some might consider him arrogant perhaps, yet that is not the case. He is a quick thinker and will not hesitate to convey his thoughts in the manner in which they come to him. Skรถll is a just being, he believes in karma, he believes entirely in 'what goes around, comes around'. Skรถll won't suffer fools gladly and whilst he will give everyone a chance, they only receive one. Forgiveness is something hard to come by from this creature, and whilst it is not entirely unattainable, it isn't something easily won. On the other hand, this is a demeanour he has adopted since death, and once under the armour of the beast, a softer side is found. His friends, family and lovers will know endless loyalty, they will uncover his wit and his humour. They will see his dedication to not only them, but whatever endeavours Skรถll puts his mind to. They will learn of his warmth and his willingnessto go to the ends of the earth for them.
History: His life had mostly been uneventful. His upbringing held no difficulties and the herd he lived within flourished, or at least it did up until his death. Skรถll was a twin, his brother Hati was the younger of the two and rarely was he allowed to forget it. His mother unintentionally favoured Skรถll, placing him upon a pedestal, despite the unranked position in the herd. Twins were a rarity for the herd and so both Skรถll and Hati were sort of revered in a way. Whilst Skรถll was the quieter of the two, Hati was the opposite, forever wanting the limelight,the recognition. Over time, this divide between the brothers grew. Hati was envious of his brother, envious of his charm, his looks, his way with the fillies. All of it. It angered the Buckskin colt beyond measure and he vowed his time would come. Over the course of their lives, Skรถll became the second in command of the herd, he had a mate and several foals whom he loved dearly. He wanted for nothing but Hati continued to work against him, to maintain the gaze of the harem upon him. He wanted it all and one day he would get it. On their seventh birthday, Hati vanished, seemingly into thin air. The herd was silently thankful of this, his antics and constant need for attention had grown tiresome. Skรถll remained in his beta position for three more years, maintaining whatever duties were asked of him, keeping an ever watchful eye on his foals as they too grew into young, reapectable horses.
Yet, half way through his tenth year, his youngest went missing. During the night, the two year old was lured away and for days they searched. The search party had mostly been located in the forest and the meadows that surrounded them, yet none had searched the mountains and rocky outcrops that towered their domain. Skรถll took it upon himself then to attempt the treacherous paths to the heavens, leaving no atone unturned. On the third highest peak, he found her and he found his brother. The young mare was beaten and left on the floor, awaiting rescue yet her hopes were soon dashed. On seeing his daughter, Skรถll turned on his brother, the two coming to vicious blows upon the mountain. The recent rains had left the slopes unsteady and as Hati backed him closer to the edge, the earth gave way beneath him. Skรถll tumbled for what felt like an eternity, his body eventually stopping. Bones were broken, his skin was torn, but the rage fuelled him on. Scrabbling to his feet, the last thing Skรถll saw was his brother pushing a boulder over the edge, its grey mass growing ever larger until it met his features. Literally being dashed upon the rocks, Skรถll awoke in a strange land, one void of life, seemingly awaiting his eternal sentencing...
Link to Creation/Breeding Bio: wildequinesv3.proboards.com/thread/37735/sk-ll-afterlife-complete
Original Roleplayer: me!
Terms*:
- to remain on WE only
- was intended for Utopia
- should the adopter become inactive or no longer want him, I will have him back
Claimed by shizwitch
Terms are very much the same for all - please do not use their designs or bios elsewhere. No auditions needed, first come, first serve!
Name: Ivar
Breed: Percheron x Clydesdale x Friesian x Thoroughbred x Dutch Warmblood x Appaloosa
Age: 7
Gender: Stallion
Alliance: Dark
Pelt Color: black based grey & black chimera
Mane and Tail color: Black with white stripes where the white stripes on his body meet his neck.
Eye Color:Black with silver rings around his pupil
Markings: Chimera markings, white blaze, four white socks, stripes across his face, neck and back. Darker spots on his shoulders and haunches. The black dots with lines coming out are not part of his design.
Hooves: Grey
Height: 18hh
Mental/Physical Conditions: None
Personality: Ivar is cunning, he is quick witted and he is vicious. Sharper than any blade, Ivar will find the chink in any armour and will pull his target apart from the inside out. Ivar has an almost casual authoritarian approach to his life - a contradiction perhaps yet he wears it well. On one hand he will seem like your greatest ally yet as soon as your back is turned, the truth will out. Ivar is vindictive, he will plot and scheme for however long it takes until the desired outcome has been achieved. He is a strategist, he knows the battlefield well and has the capability to lead great armies, should he ever wish to turn his hand to it. Ivar fears little, if anything. His only fear, if he was ever to tell you, is that he fears being forgotten. In his mind, what is the point in life if you leave no mark on it? Ivar has known love, in its many sick and twisted guises and in turn, has learned to love in his own sick and twisted fashion. He views love as possession and obsession, a means to an end. There is at times a childlike charm to him, something that he rarely shows as he considers it his vulnerable side, something to keep very much to himself. Ivar firmly believes that respect and fear go hand in hand, his experience has shown him that fear gives him the best results. With this, Ivar has no morals, no remorse, no empathy. He will cut any who stand before him, regardless of who they may be. (269)
History: There was no real reason for Ivar to be the way he is. Raised the youngest son of an earl, he was by far the closest in line to the throne. His father was idolised by them all, a great warrior, adventurer, a good leader. His mother, the alleged witch, was the mother to only four of the sons, yet Ivar was her favourite. She mollycoddled him, wrapped him in cotton wool to do all she could to protect him from the evil within the world. Yet as he grew, so did his vision. Ivar craved power, he craved the throne he would never sit upon. It plagued his dreams, haunted his every waking thought. He grew alongside his brothers, fighting, training, learning. Yet it was during one particular sparring match did it become clear Ivar wasn't quite right. After being taunted by another young colt about his mother, Ivar killed the colt in cold blood. He was hurried away and the herd did not speak of it, at least not to him. As time passed, his father died and his mother left in the dead of the night never to be seen again. The brothers rose to the challenge, apart from Ivar, who made his upset known over time.
It was not long after the departure of his mother, did Ivar truly begin to show his true colours. He became erratic, vicious, quick to the jugular when necessary. He found his temper shortening daily with his brothers - finding their mourning and lack of desire to change irritating. During a discussion with his brothers over the ascension to the lead of the herd, his middle brother rose to the challenge, yet Ivar was much taller, and growing ever more tired of the constant back and fourth, delivered the same fatal blow to his brother as he had done to the colt when he was younger. Even Ivar knew at that point he would not stand a chance against his three older brothers and before they had a chance to attack, he was gone. Ivar rallied up some fo the herd, persuading them to come with him and over the time, the herd grew. Ivar returned, a year or so later and reclaimed his place at the helm of the herd he had grown up in. Two of his brothers fled, the last one he kept alive, for his own entertainment of course. The herd was substantial yet Ivar wanted more, he wanted fresh blood. So he left, leaving his second in command in charge, hoping to return with more soldiers for the army. He is yet to return.
link to store items
Link to Creation/Breeding Bio: wildequinesv3.proboards.com/thread/36721/ivar-complete
Original Roleplayer: me!
Terms*:
- to remain on WE only
- to remain in the helkaer
- should the adopter become inactive or no longer want him, he returns to me
Name: Omen
Breed: Appaloosa x Akhal Teke x Mustang x Thoroughbred
Age: 8 at death
Gender: Mare
Alliance: Dark/Underworld
Pelt Color: Silver black splash leopard appaloosa
Mane and Tail color: White
Eye Color: Pale Canary
Markings: Odd cross marking on face, splash marking on underbelly.
As a demon will have generic bull horns
Hooves: Hind are black, front are white. Unlike the design, she does not have shoes.
Height: 16.2hh
Mental/Physical Conditions: Narcissistic, Socioppathic, Histrionic personality disorder
Personality:
Omen is as youโd expect her to be โ deceptive, cunning, cutthroat. She has no thought nor consideration for the morality of a situation, no matter how emotionally charged it may be. As long as her needs and goals are met, she is happy. She is manipulative and quick, seemingly able to pick out the weaknesses of her encounters with ease before using them to her advantage. She seemingly has no understanding of her own emotions and how they play into her decisions, which in her mind at least, makes her unstoppable. For the right cause, Omen is undeniably loyal โ she will go to the ends of the earth for her chosen ally, no matter what they may ask of her. However, Omen does not forgive, at all. Once burnt, she will savagely remove the cause from hr life, no matter how important they may have been. Omen believes herself to be the best at her game, she is not averse to resorting to violence and in many cases, relishes the battle.
History:
TW Violence/SA
Born to a herd of evil loyalists, Omen did not know her own sire. The harem of mares she belonged to believed there to be only one true male - the devil. Her father, a donor kept as a slave, was brutally sacrificed after inseminating the chosen mares, his blood offered to the devil in the hopes the next generation of foals would be just as successful as the last. Omen was born under a blood moon, at the beginning of autumn, the only of her crop to be as intricately marked as she was. The only one to be marked with the upside down cross she was quickly favoured by the coven, trained extensively from the age of two. She knew no warmth, no maternal or paternal instinct, she felt no desire to love or be loved or to procreate. Her drive was to win, to be the best, to overpower and rule whatever stood in her way.
And this is how it went for Omen as she grew. The coven challenged any they wished. Taking stallions to repopulate, using mares to brainwash and grow their numbers. Colts were kept if deemed useful, even as canon fodder. Omen soon took over a more strategic role within the harem, becoming akin to a war admiral if a title had been given. She was always eerily happy to dispose of any being of any gender or age if it meant victory, if it meant appeasing the devil. Yet, as with all winning streaks, they come to an end. Overzealous, she took it upon herself one day to ambush a group of bachelor stallions who had began to infringe upon the lands the coven ruled over. Deciding on a night ambush, alone, she endeavoured to attack the group, knowing that if anyone could get the job done, it was her. But she was wrong. They managed to overpower her, they assaulted her and violated her as they so wished until eventually ending her life abruptly and savagely.
Store Items: wildequinesv3.proboards.com/thread/39136/items-omen
Link to Creation/Breeding Bio: wildequinesv3.proboards.com/thread/38502/omen-underworld-tw-violence-sa
Original Roleplayer: me!
Terms*:
- to remain on WE only
- to remain in the UW
- should the adopter become inactive or no longer want her, she returns to me
Adopted by JUNI!
Name: Sabbath
Breed: Akhal Teke x Trakhener
Age: 9
Gender: Mare
Alliance: Unallianced
Pelt Color: Dappled Sooty Liver Chestnut
Mane and Tail color: Dark russet/brown to a chestnut red sun fade
Eye Color: Dark Red
Markings: Irregular Badger face, half sock on front left, sock on back left, white fetlock on back left. Several scars littered over her.
Hooves: Front left striped, back right white, others are slate
Height: 16.2hh
Mental/Physical Conditions: None
Personality: Spitfire would be a perfect word to describe Sabbath - hot headed with a barbed tongue, Sabbath loves nothing more than prodding the bear. Especially if the bear is likely to fight back just as hard! She's cunning, dangerous and quick witted, not afraid to pull anyone apart with her words before her teeth come into play. Sabbath can be flirtatious, she much prefers the company of stallions and finds mares to be overly dramatic and usually trying to be something they are not capable of. Sabbath can be brutally honest, deception only being required if truly necessary - usually the truth hits much harder. She enjoys finding the weaknesses of others and using that to her advantage. Sabbath can be loyal, if provided the right incentives but usually prefers to be alone. Love to her is weakness, but that hasnt stopped her falling in the past, regardless of the promise she made to never succumb to her emotions. She's fierce, driven and cutthroat, both the perfect ally and adversary.
History: Born as part of an intense programme within a distant herd, Sabbath was made for war. She was made to be beautiful and dangerous, a double agent. A snake. The herd did not hide her reason for being and regularly exposed her to the training she would soon have to endure. And endure she would. From six months of age, Sabbath had to learn to defend herself, to block unexpected attacks from both her family and the other youngsters in the training programme. She was taught to never let her guard down, never show weakness, never take her mind and eyes off the target. Daily, she would be ambushed, sometimes in jest, other times not, quickly learning to defend herself against beings her own size and sometimes bigger.
Soon, Sabbath learned that to be the first to make the move, to land the first hit. As her strength grew, so did her ability to sieze opportunities. It would be her at the forefront of attacks, almost bullying the smaller equines - but it meant she was on top, it meant the respect for her grew. Once two years of age, Sabbath began engaging in planned brawls with other members of the herd. Similar to gladiator tournaments, Sabbath fought until she won or she could fight no longer. The more she fought, the more she got a taste for it, for violence. Years dripped by and she truly grew into herself - a fighter with the looks to boot she had many a stallion readily throwing himself at her feet. Only for Sabbath to step over them, disinterested in their mere existence.
As part of a raiding party, Sabbath left the safety of the valley one dark night, not knowing it would be the last time she would see it. The party were aiming to strike a nearby territory, the two factions regularly warring. However, Sabbath hoped that night would have been the night they ended any further warring, that their party would overpower their enemies and reap the rewards from the lands. And it was, until they were met with a larger group of equines than they had anticipated. The fray was brutal and bloody, Sabbath being chased out by a band of stallions into territories unknown, never to return home.
Link to Creation/Breeding Bio: wildequinesv3.proboards.com/thread/39589/sabbath
Original Roleplayer: me!
Terms*:
- to remain on WE only
- to remain in THK, or dark kingdom
- should the adopter become inactive or no longer want her, she returns to me
Claimed by juliet
Breed: Thoroughbred x Andalusian x Holstein x Shire x Arab x Nonius x Friesian x Percheron x Hanoverian
Age: 5
Gender: Stallion
Alliance: Dark
Height: 18.1 hands
Pelt Color: Black
Genetics: EE/aa
Eye Color: Black
Mane/Tail Color: Black
Hoof Color: Slate
Markings: Dark grey, almost black bio-hazard symbol on his pectoral muscles
Physical Health: 100% - As a Cambion, he will carry the sickness Equine Infectious Anemia Virus and be able to spread it through bodily fluids, though he will not be effected by it. The virus can show in three different ways: acute, subacute and chronic. In an acute case, the horse's symptoms may include a high fever, weak pulse, anemia, irregular heartbeat, swelling of the legs and abdominal, and weakness. In these cases, it's possible for a sudden death. In a subacute case, the symptoms may include fever, anemia, weight loss, and swelling of the abdominal, chest and legs. In a chronic case, the symptoms may include that the horse tires easily, a reoccurring fever, anemia and the chance of relapsing to a more serious stage. Some horses who become infected may not show any symptoms, though pregnant mares will commonly abort.
Mental Health: 100%
Link to Creation/Breeding Bio: wildequinesv3.proboards.com/thread/27367/surgeon-artemisia
Original Roleplayer: me!
Terms*:
- to remain on WE only
- to remain in the helkaer
- should the adopter become inactive or no longer want him, he returns to me
- this is the babe of two of my personal favourite characters ever! I would love to see him active and involved with his siblings (especially given one is Thomasin... and one is Xerxes ๐)
Name: Odysseus.
Breed: Kladruber x Percheron x Dutch Warmblood x Nonius x Friesian x Clydesdale x American Paint Horse
Age: 8
Gender: Stallion
Alliance: Unallianced
Pelt Color: Faded Dark bay with chimeric gold champagne
Mane and Tail color: Black with stripes of white
Eye Color: White
Markings: Bald face with minimal tobiano markings along hairline
Hooves: Front two are a dark peach, hind two are black
Height: 18.3hh
Mental/Physical Conditions: Fainting due to Vampirism
Personality: Odysseus is a stoic creature, one who follows no set path nor definition. There is a noble air to him, one that garners the attention of others, one that commands their loyalty. He is unassuming yet intimidating, an imposing creature adorned with scars which are testament to his victories. Despite his icy exterior, Odysseus is a caring man for those he chooses to care about. On the other hand, he has an eerie ability to callously disregard those that don't matter to him, regardless of their own self importance or the title they hold. Odysseus is vicious, a worthy opponent on the battlefield with an unmatched vehemence for any adversary he meets. Despite the cold and calculated approach he has to the world, he is fiercely loyal to those he believes deserve such. Odysseus is entirely capable of love, yet is easily swayed by jealousy and can become possessive, violently so, if he deems it to be worthy of such energy. He can appear aloof to some, arrogantly set in his ways yet there remains to be a deep intelligence behind whatever words come from his mouth. (187)
History: Odysseus was born a prince, the first in line to a throne many realms away from that of Wild Equines. They were not governed by those of alliances nor factions, but by their dexterity and integrity alone. His lineage had remained within power for generations, a long line of Kings and Queens that remained etched in the stones of their fallen castles. Odysseus had been raised with a refined grace and decorum, nobility clearly flowing through his veins as it had done for his predecessors. He was bought up with history and intellect, the depths of his almost icelandic accent were clipped and shaped to a rough yet smooth tone, and as he grew, the tones became almost harmonious; a war cry unlike any heard before. It was custom for the Prince to take his band of allies out hunting once they turned three years of age; full of testosterone and energy it was the perfect time to vent their frustrations. The hunts were used to gather pelts from deers, to allow the carcasses of those they took as an offering for the ravenous wolves that lived within their homes. Yet it was on this occasion that things took an unexpected turn. As the heir to the throne, Odysseus was to bring down the stag.
As the hunt progressed, Odysseus locked onto the target, the stag falling beneath his gargantuan mass as he sank his enamels into the nape of the creature. he bought it down tactfully, finishing the job as he had been instructed to do. Yet, as the tang of iron sank into his saliva, something shifted within him. Hours seemed to pass by until the hunting party found him, feasting off the flesh and blood of the stag. Odysseus didn't notice them hurry home, he didn't notice the King standing over him as the sun rose over the trees. Odysseus was banished, against the pleas of his mother, he was exiled into the barren lands. Those who he had once trusted pinned held him in place, five of them doing all they could as his mane was braided twice, a symbol of his exile to all those that fell under the governance of their king. Odysseus left, forced into the wide world without a second thought from his family or friends. He felt something shift within him then, an armour forming over him as he too turned his back easily upon them.
Years passed as Odysseus wandered the earth, meeting those in similar predicaments to himself. Yet despite all requests for his presence within their motley crews, Odysseus remained absent, a loner. He feasted on the flesh and blood of kills left behind from wolves or from his own slaughters. A few joined him yet were soon put off by the gruesome nature of the beast. Odysseus fought with bands of stallions regularly, owning the right of passage through whichever territories he passed. He fell in love for a night here and there but callously kicked them aside when the dawn rose. Yet, something continuously drove him on, further and further from his homeland and closer to Wild Equines. (522)
Link to store items
FAO STAFF: Icy contacted me about the vampire horse and I believe it is now including cannibalism as well. If this is the case, he may need an extra side affect, so just let me know and I will amend accordingly
Link to Creation/Breeding Bio: wildequinesv3.proboards.com/thread/34295/odysseus
Original Roleplayer: me!
Terms*:
- to remain on WE only
- should the adopter become inactive or no longer want him, he returns to me[/font]
Name: Skรถll
Breed: Akhal-Teke x Dutch Warmblood
Age: 10 at death
Gender: Stallion
Alliance: Unallianced
Pelt Color: Sooty Buckskin
Mane and Tail color: Black
Eye Color: Orange
Markings: Four white stockings. Large scar on forehead.
Hooves: white
Height: 17hh
Mental/Physical Conditions: None
Personality: At first glance, to many, Skรถll appears unapproachable, callous and perhaps even cold. Some might consider him arrogant perhaps, yet that is not the case. He is a quick thinker and will not hesitate to convey his thoughts in the manner in which they come to him. Skรถll is a just being, he believes in karma, he believes entirely in 'what goes around, comes around'. Skรถll won't suffer fools gladly and whilst he will give everyone a chance, they only receive one. Forgiveness is something hard to come by from this creature, and whilst it is not entirely unattainable, it isn't something easily won. On the other hand, this is a demeanour he has adopted since death, and once under the armour of the beast, a softer side is found. His friends, family and lovers will know endless loyalty, they will uncover his wit and his humour. They will see his dedication to not only them, but whatever endeavours Skรถll puts his mind to. They will learn of his warmth and his willingnessto go to the ends of the earth for them.
History: His life had mostly been uneventful. His upbringing held no difficulties and the herd he lived within flourished, or at least it did up until his death. Skรถll was a twin, his brother Hati was the younger of the two and rarely was he allowed to forget it. His mother unintentionally favoured Skรถll, placing him upon a pedestal, despite the unranked position in the herd. Twins were a rarity for the herd and so both Skรถll and Hati were sort of revered in a way. Whilst Skรถll was the quieter of the two, Hati was the opposite, forever wanting the limelight,the recognition. Over time, this divide between the brothers grew. Hati was envious of his brother, envious of his charm, his looks, his way with the fillies. All of it. It angered the Buckskin colt beyond measure and he vowed his time would come. Over the course of their lives, Skรถll became the second in command of the herd, he had a mate and several foals whom he loved dearly. He wanted for nothing but Hati continued to work against him, to maintain the gaze of the harem upon him. He wanted it all and one day he would get it. On their seventh birthday, Hati vanished, seemingly into thin air. The herd was silently thankful of this, his antics and constant need for attention had grown tiresome. Skรถll remained in his beta position for three more years, maintaining whatever duties were asked of him, keeping an ever watchful eye on his foals as they too grew into young, reapectable horses.
Yet, half way through his tenth year, his youngest went missing. During the night, the two year old was lured away and for days they searched. The search party had mostly been located in the forest and the meadows that surrounded them, yet none had searched the mountains and rocky outcrops that towered their domain. Skรถll took it upon himself then to attempt the treacherous paths to the heavens, leaving no atone unturned. On the third highest peak, he found her and he found his brother. The young mare was beaten and left on the floor, awaiting rescue yet her hopes were soon dashed. On seeing his daughter, Skรถll turned on his brother, the two coming to vicious blows upon the mountain. The recent rains had left the slopes unsteady and as Hati backed him closer to the edge, the earth gave way beneath him. Skรถll tumbled for what felt like an eternity, his body eventually stopping. Bones were broken, his skin was torn, but the rage fuelled him on. Scrabbling to his feet, the last thing Skรถll saw was his brother pushing a boulder over the edge, its grey mass growing ever larger until it met his features. Literally being dashed upon the rocks, Skรถll awoke in a strange land, one void of life, seemingly awaiting his eternal sentencing...
Link to Creation/Breeding Bio: wildequinesv3.proboards.com/thread/37735/sk-ll-afterlife-complete
Original Roleplayer: me!
Terms*:
- to remain on WE only
- was intended for Utopia
- should the adopter become inactive or no longer want him, I will have him back
Claimed by shizwitch