Post by Swede on Feb 22, 2010 13:34:35 GMT -5
Name: Legend
Age: 6 years
Breed: Mustang
Height: 15.2 hh
Colour: Dunalino (ee/Aa/nCr/Dd)
Eye Colour: Dark mahogany brown
Gender: stallion
Markings: Black dorsal stripe, white mane/tail
History:
Legend… oh, what’s in a name? His mother thought it had a nice ring to it. That’s all. Perhaps he did win a little fame, or rather infamy, but it was nothing he asked for. Was it?
There was a plateau, once. Well, it is still there… but once, horses lived there, as they had done for centuries, untouched by humans, never seeing other herds, taught the laws of the wilderness. Survival of the fittest was rule number one; but there was also a strong code of ethics. It was a harsh life, but an honest one, and it was this into which Legend was born.
He was a good little colt, growing up in a small herd consisting of his father, mother, and three other mares and their foals. One of these foals was his half-brother, the other two were his half-sisters, and he played with them day in and day out. His father protected them well, and though he was as tough and harsh as most of the stallions of the area, he was also kinder than some, and Legend had a relatively happy foalhood.
Then, not long after his first birthday, something awful happened. Foreign horses with strange creatures on their backs came, swarming the herds and rounding them together. Panicked, Legend’s family raced away from the intruders, blindly trying to escape; suddenly, another horse appeared alongside them. “This way!” she told them, guiding them. Legend distrusted her; her scent was strange, like that of the invading horses with their monstrous riders, but his father directed the family after her. It was a trap; she was a Judas horse, trained to lure wild herds with her into corrals. Many of the plateau horses were captured that day, and taken away to be sold.
Legend soon learned that these strange beasts were called humans. Two of them took a special interest in the captured mustangs, and bought nearly thirty of them, bringing them back to their ranch. These people were interested in one thing only: color. They bred horses regardless of breed, age, conformation, or temperament; as long as the foal had an unusual color, it was great. The facilities were rather poor, and the frightened mustangs were terrified of the humans, the fences, even the hay, as they had only ever eaten wild grasses before.
Legend’s mother had given birth to a little filly that spring just days before the roundup, and she was also taken to this ranch, as was Legend’s brother, father, and another of his father’s mares. His brother was gelded since he was ‘just’ a regular bay, but Legend himself was a dunalino, and the humans thought he might produce some interesting foals when he was older.
Well, time passed; no effort was made to properly tame the horses, except for a couple of the stallions so that the male human could show off his macho skills to his female. When Legend was three, he was turned out into a pasture with several mares, which he was expected to cover. This he succeeded in, all except for one, his younger sister. She was only two years old, too young really, and, well, his sister, and he wasn’t about to breed her. This irritated the humans; they did not know or care about the blood relationship, and drugged the young stallion to strengthen his instincts. However, they were rather foolish and gave him an overdose. Legend went into a mad rampage among the mares, and succeeded in forcebreeding his own sister without realizing it. In the process, he killed his brother who tried to defend her against his insanity; his sister died of the injuries he had inflicted upon her. Moments later, Legend collapsed, convulsing as the drug overloaded his nervous system.
He was brought back to the stallion corrals, but the damage was done. A whisper began to spread among the horses of the ranch. He killed his siblings… slaughtered them in cold blood, while trying to take his own sister… Kinslayer… The others disliked him; his father hated him with a passion. No one spoke with him; though they could drive him out physically due to the fences, he was a social exile. The loneliness and hatred began to eat away at his heart. It wasn’t my fault…
I killed them…
I am a murderer.
Legend; he was dark, he was evil, he took down his siblings and broke his mother’s heart. The official diagnosis of her recent demise was some sort of sickness; but no doubt it was her accursed son who brought about her destruction. That was what the rumors said, anyway. From having been a frisky colt, rebelling against the humans, he suddenly grew calm, even allowing them to halter him and touch him. They celebrated that they had seemingly tamed a wild stallion; but they did not see his cold, calculating eye. He accepted their food, growing stronger, healthier than the other captives who were all kept in a filthy pasture.
Time to finish what was begun.
He was five years old; spring again. In the dead of night, he broke out of his corral, and entered that of his father. His father had led the herd into that trap; Legend would have his vengeance. The older stallion saw him coming. No challenge was issued; but he could see the look in his son’s eyes.
Do not do this!
But have you not realized? You have made me what I am. Do not worry; you will be a hero, a victim of the terrible Legend, the Kinslayer. Time to die!
The battle was brutal, but short. The Kinslayer had struck again. Without further ado, he turned, trotted past his father’s broken body, and vanished into the darkness.
Legend traveled most of the summer, and finally found his way back to the old plateau. No one knew he was the Kinslayer here, and perhaps they would welcome some news of what had happened to their family members. But there was no one left; all had been killed by the mysterious illness passed on by those humans’ horses, one that they were immune to. But the wild ones dropped like flies. The few survivors had fled. But Legend did not learn of this until later. The water on the plateau was tainted by the disease, and he became infected, growing weaker and weaker throughout the autumn until he lost consciousness for what must have been several days. Miraculously, he survived; why? He did not fear death, did not fight the inevitable. After all, he had killed half his family; he was scum, unworthy of life. Perhaps it was this lack of fear that brought him through. In any case, he was in terrible condition afterwards, but forced himself to travel away as winter set in. The lack of food and shelter during the snowy season slowed his recovery; and though his body weight returned, and he appears fairly healthy, he is easily exhausted, and avoids getting into unnecessary trouble, at least until he regains his former strength.
Legend… the infamous Kinslayer. Why did he kill his siblings? It was not his fault; he can hardly even remember that day, controlled by foreign substances. But the slaying of his father was his own choice. Why did Legend choose to do so? The others already condemned him; he would only make them hate him more.
He could not change the past. But he could punish himself. He could cause himself pain by living up to his title, by making the others despise him. And it worked. He is tortured by questions of good and evil; and what is he?
Age: 6 years
Breed: Mustang
Height: 15.2 hh
Colour: Dunalino (ee/Aa/nCr/Dd)
Eye Colour: Dark mahogany brown
Gender: stallion
Markings: Black dorsal stripe, white mane/tail
History:
Legend… oh, what’s in a name? His mother thought it had a nice ring to it. That’s all. Perhaps he did win a little fame, or rather infamy, but it was nothing he asked for. Was it?
There was a plateau, once. Well, it is still there… but once, horses lived there, as they had done for centuries, untouched by humans, never seeing other herds, taught the laws of the wilderness. Survival of the fittest was rule number one; but there was also a strong code of ethics. It was a harsh life, but an honest one, and it was this into which Legend was born.
He was a good little colt, growing up in a small herd consisting of his father, mother, and three other mares and their foals. One of these foals was his half-brother, the other two were his half-sisters, and he played with them day in and day out. His father protected them well, and though he was as tough and harsh as most of the stallions of the area, he was also kinder than some, and Legend had a relatively happy foalhood.
Then, not long after his first birthday, something awful happened. Foreign horses with strange creatures on their backs came, swarming the herds and rounding them together. Panicked, Legend’s family raced away from the intruders, blindly trying to escape; suddenly, another horse appeared alongside them. “This way!” she told them, guiding them. Legend distrusted her; her scent was strange, like that of the invading horses with their monstrous riders, but his father directed the family after her. It was a trap; she was a Judas horse, trained to lure wild herds with her into corrals. Many of the plateau horses were captured that day, and taken away to be sold.
Legend soon learned that these strange beasts were called humans. Two of them took a special interest in the captured mustangs, and bought nearly thirty of them, bringing them back to their ranch. These people were interested in one thing only: color. They bred horses regardless of breed, age, conformation, or temperament; as long as the foal had an unusual color, it was great. The facilities were rather poor, and the frightened mustangs were terrified of the humans, the fences, even the hay, as they had only ever eaten wild grasses before.
Legend’s mother had given birth to a little filly that spring just days before the roundup, and she was also taken to this ranch, as was Legend’s brother, father, and another of his father’s mares. His brother was gelded since he was ‘just’ a regular bay, but Legend himself was a dunalino, and the humans thought he might produce some interesting foals when he was older.
Well, time passed; no effort was made to properly tame the horses, except for a couple of the stallions so that the male human could show off his macho skills to his female. When Legend was three, he was turned out into a pasture with several mares, which he was expected to cover. This he succeeded in, all except for one, his younger sister. She was only two years old, too young really, and, well, his sister, and he wasn’t about to breed her. This irritated the humans; they did not know or care about the blood relationship, and drugged the young stallion to strengthen his instincts. However, they were rather foolish and gave him an overdose. Legend went into a mad rampage among the mares, and succeeded in forcebreeding his own sister without realizing it. In the process, he killed his brother who tried to defend her against his insanity; his sister died of the injuries he had inflicted upon her. Moments later, Legend collapsed, convulsing as the drug overloaded his nervous system.
He was brought back to the stallion corrals, but the damage was done. A whisper began to spread among the horses of the ranch. He killed his siblings… slaughtered them in cold blood, while trying to take his own sister… Kinslayer… The others disliked him; his father hated him with a passion. No one spoke with him; though they could drive him out physically due to the fences, he was a social exile. The loneliness and hatred began to eat away at his heart. It wasn’t my fault…
I killed them…
I am a murderer.
Legend; he was dark, he was evil, he took down his siblings and broke his mother’s heart. The official diagnosis of her recent demise was some sort of sickness; but no doubt it was her accursed son who brought about her destruction. That was what the rumors said, anyway. From having been a frisky colt, rebelling against the humans, he suddenly grew calm, even allowing them to halter him and touch him. They celebrated that they had seemingly tamed a wild stallion; but they did not see his cold, calculating eye. He accepted their food, growing stronger, healthier than the other captives who were all kept in a filthy pasture.
Time to finish what was begun.
He was five years old; spring again. In the dead of night, he broke out of his corral, and entered that of his father. His father had led the herd into that trap; Legend would have his vengeance. The older stallion saw him coming. No challenge was issued; but he could see the look in his son’s eyes.
Do not do this!
But have you not realized? You have made me what I am. Do not worry; you will be a hero, a victim of the terrible Legend, the Kinslayer. Time to die!
The battle was brutal, but short. The Kinslayer had struck again. Without further ado, he turned, trotted past his father’s broken body, and vanished into the darkness.
Legend traveled most of the summer, and finally found his way back to the old plateau. No one knew he was the Kinslayer here, and perhaps they would welcome some news of what had happened to their family members. But there was no one left; all had been killed by the mysterious illness passed on by those humans’ horses, one that they were immune to. But the wild ones dropped like flies. The few survivors had fled. But Legend did not learn of this until later. The water on the plateau was tainted by the disease, and he became infected, growing weaker and weaker throughout the autumn until he lost consciousness for what must have been several days. Miraculously, he survived; why? He did not fear death, did not fight the inevitable. After all, he had killed half his family; he was scum, unworthy of life. Perhaps it was this lack of fear that brought him through. In any case, he was in terrible condition afterwards, but forced himself to travel away as winter set in. The lack of food and shelter during the snowy season slowed his recovery; and though his body weight returned, and he appears fairly healthy, he is easily exhausted, and avoids getting into unnecessary trouble, at least until he regains his former strength.
Legend… the infamous Kinslayer. Why did he kill his siblings? It was not his fault; he can hardly even remember that day, controlled by foreign substances. But the slaying of his father was his own choice. Why did Legend choose to do so? The others already condemned him; he would only make them hate him more.
He could not change the past. But he could punish himself. He could cause himself pain by living up to his title, by making the others despise him. And it worked. He is tortured by questions of good and evil; and what is he?
