Post by Swede on Jun 8, 2009 14:58:22 GMT -5
Name: Cormorant
Age: 10 years
Breed: Mustang
Height: 14.3 hh
Colour: black (EE/aa)
Eye Colour: Brown
Gender: Stallion
Markings:
History:
You wish to know who I am, and of my past? I... It is difficult to explain. Perhaps, if I retell a set of memories, you will understand... Some of them are mine, some I have only been told, but they are all true..
It was midnight. Indian Summer, lead mare of Storming, brother of Rysen, grazed quietly in a moonlit clearing, near the herd. Springtime, and she was in heat, though Storming had been away for the past two days. Someone else scented her, someone who realized what a wonderful joke it would be, to take this mare. So he approached her, his pale coat glowing in the darkness, remarkably similar to Storming. Instinct prompted the mare to find a stallion and produce a foal; she was tired, it was dark, and she never considered that it would be someone other than Storming. She was easily seduced and bred. Not until afterwards did she realize the horror she had committed- this was not Storming, but Heilig, the manic leader of the Dalt. He had known what an insult it would be, for an Outcast foal to be born among the Strath. He left her there, laughing at her.
And a year later, the foul foal was born. Me. I do not blame my mother for her mixed feelings; she loved me, for I was her son. But she also hated me, because I was a blasphemy, something that should never have come to pass. Storming wanted to kill me, to end the horror. My mother convinced him not to. Perhaps it would be better if he had ended me then.
Outcast. What an awful thing- nauseating to see, and even more terrible to be. A hybrid, of Dalt and Strath. The Strath hated me; the Dalt hated me; even Outsiders in the valley hated me, for I was of the blood of their tyrant overlords.
Torna. Mother of the Three, famed prophetess, raving lunatic. She summoned me often, to taunt me, to degrade me. To teach me how to survive, to love me. I owe her everything.
I loved her... that Outsider mare. I feared to tell her. I shouldn't have.
Torna called me, one stormy evening, and told me something. First she laughed. "Cormorant, Cormorant, of course it would be you!" she said. She rarely made much sense, but this time, her words were crystal clear: "You are cursed, child. You will never feel the mutual love of another; no mare, no filly, nothing. your life will be lonely, with no one to share your burdens, and you will die lonely, loveless, childless. And no one will grieve Cormorant, their lost love." She started her prophecy chuckling at me; but by the end, she suddenly looked old. Torna is ancient, yes, but the look in her eyes... it haunts me to this day.
I was young. I was foolish. I courted the Outsider mare. She died. I do not wish to speak of it; it was my fault. I should have listened to Torna. Her prophecies always come true.
I was older. I learned to see the injustices caused by both Dalt and Strath. I belonged to neither, but neither was I slave or submissive Outsider. I was Outcast, a ghost in the periphery. So I planned my rebellion, and earned the friendship of a single Strath mare. Aurelie. But I was careful never to love her. We were just friends. For her sake, though it sometimes broke my heart. I am used to it now, though.
There was a prophecy of Torna's. That the sun would be born on Earth, and cast down the rule of the kings. Pentacle, curse that blackhearted mare, knew what Torna meant. If Aurelie's foal was a colt, a golden stallion, he must die, or Rysen would see the end of his reign.
Aurelie birthed. Twins, a filly and a colt. I smuggled the palomino colt away, bringing him to a distant land where he was raised by Drafts. Rysen never knew, and he spared the filly.
Something went awry. Rysen found out that I was planning rebellion, how I do not know. He blamed me for Shrine's death. Why? Shrine was good to me, he and Aurelie both. Shrine was good to everyone. I did not kill him. Rysen just wanted an excuse to kill me, the Outcast, the shameful one. Perhaps he does not realize how much I was actually planning against him. He ran me out; then sent stallions to kill me. I somehow escaped... and came here. But Rysen is also here. The final battleground against Heilig- my father. Somehow, I must bring about the end of this eternal conflict, and bring back the dignity of the slaves, the Outsiders. Maybe even the Outcasts. Or maybe old habits die too hard, and I will be shunned forever.
We'll see.
Age: 10 years
Breed: Mustang
Height: 14.3 hh
Colour: black (EE/aa)
Eye Colour: Brown
Gender: Stallion
Markings:
History:
You wish to know who I am, and of my past? I... It is difficult to explain. Perhaps, if I retell a set of memories, you will understand... Some of them are mine, some I have only been told, but they are all true..
It was midnight. Indian Summer, lead mare of Storming, brother of Rysen, grazed quietly in a moonlit clearing, near the herd. Springtime, and she was in heat, though Storming had been away for the past two days. Someone else scented her, someone who realized what a wonderful joke it would be, to take this mare. So he approached her, his pale coat glowing in the darkness, remarkably similar to Storming. Instinct prompted the mare to find a stallion and produce a foal; she was tired, it was dark, and she never considered that it would be someone other than Storming. She was easily seduced and bred. Not until afterwards did she realize the horror she had committed- this was not Storming, but Heilig, the manic leader of the Dalt. He had known what an insult it would be, for an Outcast foal to be born among the Strath. He left her there, laughing at her.
And a year later, the foul foal was born. Me. I do not blame my mother for her mixed feelings; she loved me, for I was her son. But she also hated me, because I was a blasphemy, something that should never have come to pass. Storming wanted to kill me, to end the horror. My mother convinced him not to. Perhaps it would be better if he had ended me then.
Outcast. What an awful thing- nauseating to see, and even more terrible to be. A hybrid, of Dalt and Strath. The Strath hated me; the Dalt hated me; even Outsiders in the valley hated me, for I was of the blood of their tyrant overlords.
Torna. Mother of the Three, famed prophetess, raving lunatic. She summoned me often, to taunt me, to degrade me. To teach me how to survive, to love me. I owe her everything.
I loved her... that Outsider mare. I feared to tell her. I shouldn't have.
Torna called me, one stormy evening, and told me something. First she laughed. "Cormorant, Cormorant, of course it would be you!" she said. She rarely made much sense, but this time, her words were crystal clear: "You are cursed, child. You will never feel the mutual love of another; no mare, no filly, nothing. your life will be lonely, with no one to share your burdens, and you will die lonely, loveless, childless. And no one will grieve Cormorant, their lost love." She started her prophecy chuckling at me; but by the end, she suddenly looked old. Torna is ancient, yes, but the look in her eyes... it haunts me to this day.
I was young. I was foolish. I courted the Outsider mare. She died. I do not wish to speak of it; it was my fault. I should have listened to Torna. Her prophecies always come true.
I was older. I learned to see the injustices caused by both Dalt and Strath. I belonged to neither, but neither was I slave or submissive Outsider. I was Outcast, a ghost in the periphery. So I planned my rebellion, and earned the friendship of a single Strath mare. Aurelie. But I was careful never to love her. We were just friends. For her sake, though it sometimes broke my heart. I am used to it now, though.
There was a prophecy of Torna's. That the sun would be born on Earth, and cast down the rule of the kings. Pentacle, curse that blackhearted mare, knew what Torna meant. If Aurelie's foal was a colt, a golden stallion, he must die, or Rysen would see the end of his reign.
Aurelie birthed. Twins, a filly and a colt. I smuggled the palomino colt away, bringing him to a distant land where he was raised by Drafts. Rysen never knew, and he spared the filly.
Something went awry. Rysen found out that I was planning rebellion, how I do not know. He blamed me for Shrine's death. Why? Shrine was good to me, he and Aurelie both. Shrine was good to everyone. I did not kill him. Rysen just wanted an excuse to kill me, the Outcast, the shameful one. Perhaps he does not realize how much I was actually planning against him. He ran me out; then sent stallions to kill me. I somehow escaped... and came here. But Rysen is also here. The final battleground against Heilig- my father. Somehow, I must bring about the end of this eternal conflict, and bring back the dignity of the slaves, the Outsiders. Maybe even the Outcasts. Or maybe old habits die too hard, and I will be shunned forever.
We'll see.
