Post by Honour on Jul 27, 2009 3:20:35 GMT -5
Full Name: The Honour of Verity
Nickname: Honour, Verity, Hon, Ver
Breed: Mixed warmblood
Height: 16.1hh
Gender: Fillie
Appearance: Have you ever seen a hanoverian mare? If so just try and picture her, but with grulla colouring, and you've got me. I've got a sleek, powerful body covered in smooth grey and white hairs that, I'm told, seem to shimmer as I move. That's probably something of an exageration, but oh well. I'm also told that I have a pretty face, and I have to admit that my big brown eyes have some appeal to them. What's definite is that I have a long, flowing black mane while my tail is black streaked with white. There are no white socks on any of my black legs, though I do have a small snip emblazoned between my eyes.
Age: 3 years
Personality: I'm the kind of horse that doesn't need the comfort of a large herd, in fact I find the lack of personal identity distressing. That's not to say that I don't like company; I'm happiest when I'm with a group of just a few friends, and I tend to form very close relationships with one or two friends, for whom I would sacrifice everything. I'm generally an optimistic soul, and it takes an awful lot to bring me down. I'm not a rebel or a fighter, I don't bother trying to change what I cannot, but I always find a way to make a bad situation more bearable.
History: I've had a fairly easy life, I suppose, or at least an easy youth. I was born far away from these lands in a place that has since been destroyed by fire. It was beautiful, lush place with verdant meadows and rolling hills. Best of all, it all belonged to my mother and me.
Everything changed a short time ago. It's amazing how much a single spark can destroy, and this particular spark grew into a blazing inferno that enveloped my home. My mother and I ran from the furnace as fast we could, and to this day I can still hear my mother's terrified screaming as she urged me faster. We got seperated during that desperate run and I haven't seen her since, though somehow I know she still lives.
When at last I managed to escape the flames I found myself in an unfamiliar place. It was a long, narrow valley gaurded on either side by unscalable red cliffs. I later learned from the slavers I met there that this was Blitzcreig, a place reserved for conflict. They were not cruel, those slavers. I think they could see I was no threat, and with many a comforting word they tied a rope around my neck and led me away. I didn't know what slavery was at the time, and I balked when it was first explained to me. I didn't like the sound of being ordered around by the "masters", and I even thought about trying to escape for one mad moment. Now though, I know there is no chance of breaking free and I ahve come to accept my fate; I can only hope that I will be blessed with a kind master.
Master, Slave, or Free-Roaming? Slave
Nickname: Honour, Verity, Hon, Ver
Breed: Mixed warmblood
Height: 16.1hh
Gender: Fillie
Appearance: Have you ever seen a hanoverian mare? If so just try and picture her, but with grulla colouring, and you've got me. I've got a sleek, powerful body covered in smooth grey and white hairs that, I'm told, seem to shimmer as I move. That's probably something of an exageration, but oh well. I'm also told that I have a pretty face, and I have to admit that my big brown eyes have some appeal to them. What's definite is that I have a long, flowing black mane while my tail is black streaked with white. There are no white socks on any of my black legs, though I do have a small snip emblazoned between my eyes.
Age: 3 years
Personality: I'm the kind of horse that doesn't need the comfort of a large herd, in fact I find the lack of personal identity distressing. That's not to say that I don't like company; I'm happiest when I'm with a group of just a few friends, and I tend to form very close relationships with one or two friends, for whom I would sacrifice everything. I'm generally an optimistic soul, and it takes an awful lot to bring me down. I'm not a rebel or a fighter, I don't bother trying to change what I cannot, but I always find a way to make a bad situation more bearable.
History: I've had a fairly easy life, I suppose, or at least an easy youth. I was born far away from these lands in a place that has since been destroyed by fire. It was beautiful, lush place with verdant meadows and rolling hills. Best of all, it all belonged to my mother and me.
Everything changed a short time ago. It's amazing how much a single spark can destroy, and this particular spark grew into a blazing inferno that enveloped my home. My mother and I ran from the furnace as fast we could, and to this day I can still hear my mother's terrified screaming as she urged me faster. We got seperated during that desperate run and I haven't seen her since, though somehow I know she still lives.
When at last I managed to escape the flames I found myself in an unfamiliar place. It was a long, narrow valley gaurded on either side by unscalable red cliffs. I later learned from the slavers I met there that this was Blitzcreig, a place reserved for conflict. They were not cruel, those slavers. I think they could see I was no threat, and with many a comforting word they tied a rope around my neck and led me away. I didn't know what slavery was at the time, and I balked when it was first explained to me. I didn't like the sound of being ordered around by the "masters", and I even thought about trying to escape for one mad moment. Now though, I know there is no chance of breaking free and I ahve come to accept my fate; I can only hope that I will be blessed with a kind master.
Master, Slave, or Free-Roaming? Slave
