[Penultima]

"...Ten Lords a-Leaping"


For this lordly stallion, I'd like you to do just a couple things:
a) Find a christmasy barn/stable/ranch picture
b) Write a short story about something that he did/had happen to him on Christmas
c) Tell me a little about his owner; name, personality, where he lives, etc.

Basically, I want to hear the story and life you dream up for this guy :3
The one I feel fits him best and is complete/works together will win!

Owned by Lichenfeather

[BluebonnetBree]

Username: Mother~of~Dragons
Full name: The Lord and The Lion
Barn name: Lion
Age: 5 years
Gender: Stallion
Height: 15.3 hh
Breed: Thoroughbred
Coloration: Gulastra Plume Mahogany Bay

Picture:
Click Here

Story:
Hope you don't mind but I included you in the story ^^

Lion trudged through the deep snow making his way for the barn and, most importantly, his dinner. Snow had piled up against the paddock doors so stable hands were forced to take horses out of the barn and to the pasture via the main gate. Lion's personal caretaker Pen was waiting for him when he reached the gate with a rather long box and lead rope in hand. He greeted Pen with a nicker and a hurried paw at the snow, he was ready for his dinner. Pen laughed and attached his lead rope and said, "I got you a special Christmas present boy." Pen opened the box to reveal a lush red velvet blanket with a dalmatian patterned fur embellishment. He took a sniff and noticed the number ten button that was attached to the side, which had been his very first race number and the number he had worn on the day of his accident. Pen pulled the blanket on him and tied the ribbon together under his stomach. Inside the box were shiny gold ribbons which Pen attached to all four of his legs. Pen grabbed the last piece, a fancy bridle with a crown attached and a dalmatian patterned rein, and slid it onto his face and laid the reins over his back. Pen smiled at the fine stallion and said, "There you go boy. All dressed up and handsome for Christmas!" Lion tossed his head happily and pranced beside Pen all the back to the barn where he inhaled his dinner and the stable hands swooned over his new outfit.

Owner & History:
Lion was born on December 22nd, 2006 at Bo Ranch in Helena, Montana to Demi Torrens a single woman of 28 years old. Demi was just starting in the Thoroughbred racing industry but couldn't to afford to buy one of the best broodmares so she settled for a nearing 13 mare who was in her final term. Lion was born later that month, but soon after birth he became an orphan when his mother took her last breath and passed on. Demi, completely inexperienced in the art of bottle feeding a newborn foal, called the nearest vet and told him of her situation. The vet couldn't make it out that night but assured her the foal would be fine as long as she kept it warm and offer it a bottle of warm formula. Lion spent that night wrapped up in his mothers oversized blanket and at home on Demi's king sized bed. When the vet came the next morning he confirmed that the colt was healthy, if not a tad big, and gave Demi a supply of foal formula. She continued to feed him as he grew like a weed and he spent most of his days inside Demi's house or out in the pasture alone. When he turned 2 he was sent to a training farm where he received proper race etiquette and where his career began. Before she knew it Lion had grown into a handsome stallion and was being prepared for his first race. Demi came to visit him often and still took him home from time to time to rest on her bed like he had done when he was just a foal. Soon his race day was upon him and Demi was hoping for a victory but that was not meant to be. Nearing the final turn the lead horse fell and Lion was caught in its path. The jockey didn't have enough time to maneuver him around the fallen horse and Lion came crashing down as well when he tripped over his fallen competitor. Demi feared the worse for her baby and found out he had shattered a tendon that required surgery to repair. She couldn't bear the thought of putting him down so she payed for the surgery and waited for him to heal. When he was allowed to return home for paddock rest the vet told her he would never race again and at most he could reach a trot and light work. After paying for his surgery Demi could no longer afford to care for him or keep her farm so she relinquished him to CW, sold her farm and moved away. Lion spent the first 8 months healing before he was put up for adoption but no one wanted a broken horse and so he's stayed there for the past 3 years looking for his perfect home.

[Inupait]

Username: Inupait
Full name: The Kings Falling Crown
Barn name: Fenrick
Age: 4 years
Gender: Stallion
Height: 16.2 hh
Breed: Thoroughbred
Coloration: Gulastra Plume Mahogany Bay
Picture:
Merry Christmas
Story:
Owner:

wip

[.Arrow]

Arghh, as much as I love this boy, I think he can go to a better home than me. Dropping out.

[whisky]

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❝ A generation of the unteachable is hanging upon us like a necklace of corpses. ❞

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>> Moo-ey Christmas! <<

Username;; Whisky.
Full Name;; -
Barn Name(s);; Faustus.
Breed;; Thoroughbred.
Age;; Six years.
Gender;; Stallion.
Height;; 16hh..
Coloration;; Gulastra Plume Mahogany Bay.
Owner;; Nicholas Sullivan Cane.
Story;; -

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[Frostbite18]

[center]Username: Frostbite18
Full name: Lord of the Sun
Barn name: Lord
Age: 6 years
Gender: Stallion
Height: 16.3hh
Breed: Thoroughbred
Coloration: Gulastra Plume Mahogany Bay
Picture:
Story:
Screams filled the air as I entered the crisp morning sunlight. My bay fur gleamed like polished bronze as I stepped regally out of the barn. Ears erect, I flicked them to and fro to catch all of that sweet praise, my name ringing through the air from a hundred mouths. I couldn't stop the shuddering of my muscles, out of shear excitement for the glory to come. This race was mine, I didn't care if they said I had met my match, that my luck would run out in this great race. I would prove them all wrong! Suddenly a small human rushed forth, under the cold, white metal bars and right in front of me. The humans looked horrified and one female was shrieking as she shoved through the crowd. What did they think I was going to do? Trample the little thing? I dipped my head and tousled the young ones hair with a soft breath and a nuzzle. She giggled with delight and patted my nose, it felt quite nice, that little warm hand softly pressed to my velvet furred nose. The adults quickly scooped her up and the female gave me a soft look, there was evident appreciation in her eyes. I watched my new friends go with some sadness, but I quickly let it go, I had a race to win!

We walked about the large grassy area for a short while, then my jockey swung up into the saddle with the grace of a gazelle. She had done this many times and didn't even have to think about it, racing was in her blood, her muscle and her heart, it was in mine as well. Onto the track we went, my hooves cut into the dirt and sunk in slightly, I began to bob my head up and down eagerly. I glanced up to the crowd, many an eye was upon me, how could they not look at me? There was a reason I was called Lord of the Sun. My owners had named me only two days after my birth, when I began to gallop around the paddock with a stride, that even as a foal, was regal. Oh and the way the sun had shimmered on my pelt, it looked like I was made of sunlight. I shook my head, I had to stay focused, we were nearly at the gate. One at a time my competition was lead and sometimes dragged/pushed into the gate. I was in a bad spot, number 12 out of 12 horses. At last I was lead forth, no resistance came from me as I stepped slowly into the gate. I heard the clink of the gate closing behind me and began to paw the ground, my muscles quivered, my eyes stayed locked on that gate in front of me...awaiting the ring as it opened. The trumpets blared, slowly the noise faded and any moment now...RING!!! The gate crashed open and I leaped from the gate, my stride instantly opening up as I raced forward. My eyes flashed about, watching for a spot as I tried to move in towards the rail, I was much to far out. How I wanted to fight the pressure on my mouth! Holding me back from going all out, suddenly a spot opened and I saw the rail, my jockey quickly steered me toward the gap. I we've between horses as I went and manged to get up next to a horse on the rail.
Massive WIP.

[Timey]

Dropping out. Just too much coming up for me to do him justice. <3

[Chronometer]

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Pᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴀɴɴᴏʏᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴏғ ᴜs ᴡʜᴏ ᴅᴏ

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Username: Chronometer
Full Name: Whitehall's Sir Gregory
Barn Name: Gregory, sometimes called Sir Grumpypants or addressed as My Lord
A Brief Explaination: Well, I suppose I should explain a little about his name. You see, I'm a fan of 'themed' horses. A glance though my stable will tell you this! Gregory is inspired by the satire - laced radio show Men From the Ministry (1662-1977)*, hence the prefix 'Whitehall.' Highlighting and exaggerating the deficiencies in government, Gregory's personality, name, and even owner are drawn from/inspired by references to the show. And of course, he's named after the ever - hilarious Sir Gregory Pitkin.

*Nooo, I'm not that old! BBC Radio 4 airs it on Fridays or something like that.
Please don't take this the wrong way. Where I'm from, it's almost a custom to poke fun at our governing body. This form is NOT in any way meant to display any form of political views etc. It is simply a form inspired by something I love - the wonderful world of British humour. I mean no disrespect <3
Age: 8
Gender: Stallion
Height: 16.2 hh
Breed: Thoroughbred
Coloration: Gulastra Plume Mahogany Bay

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Tʜᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀɴ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴍɪɴᴅ, ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ, ɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ
ɪɴsɪsᴛ ᴏɴ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ɪɴ ɪᴛ.

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Picture: Winter Wonderland <3

Personality: You have the high-strung, crazy Thoroughbreds, and the calm, relaxed, cool ones who love what they do and let the world know it.

And then you have Gregory.

No, he is not your 'hot' Thoroughbred stallion. No, he is not your calm, collected, ideal racehorse. He is simply Gregory. He is above the uncontrollable friskiness, above the calm and happy horse. In fact, he looks down upon anyone displaying any emotion at all. In a nutshell: He is indifferent. Not the ignorant kind of indifference, the aristocratic one where he knows all, and others are simply not worthy of his acknowledgement.

He was not always this way. Gregory has come far from the nervous young horse who first stepped out on the track, balking at the starting gate. He has seen the world, with all its changes, and changed himself accordingly.

Despite his regal indifference, Gregory does show a spark of humanity (for lack of a better word - perhaps horse-ity?) at times. He can't escape his nature completely. The odd nicker, a flare of uncontrollable temper, a few whinnies at passing mares. These little glimpses of a more down-to-earth Gregory are what make us love him even more. We love him for his indifference, with all his faults and strengths. He may not love us as dearly back, but there is certainly some recognition in there! Gregory is loved through his grumpy spells, and loved through his aloof ones. He is loved as he never was on the track, where he learned that the only way to get through life was to simply only care for himself. Perhaps one day he will see that his attitude is not needed, for we know he is royalty, with or without the attitude to match.

It's often the little things that upset him most. Gregory detests ignorance and stupidity. Unfortunately, he sees everyone as less intelligent than him. This means he tends to view everyone with aristocratic distaste. If he doesn't wish to have you in his presence, he'll regally ask you to leave, often with an elegant kick or nip. Whatever Gregory is doing, he never ceases to be beautiful, even if it is catching your kneecap with his left hind.


Who dares command me?


To sum him up: Aristocratic ~ Proud ~ Independent ~ Knowledgeable ~ Irritable ~ Slightly Manipulative ~ Self-Centred

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Tʜᴇ ʙᴇsᴛ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴇ ɪs ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ . . . ᴄᴀʀᴇғᴜʟʟʏ ᴇᴅɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ.

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Under Saddle: Pretty much as you'd expect from a horse like him. Gregory insists on taking the lead, and sulks when not given it. He hates compromise, and will do almost anything to get his way. He's inclined towards cross country, where his rider finds it easier to point him at an obstacle and let him do his own thing. (Or dump the rider in a puddle and run off.)

Owner: Gregory is owned, or as he prefers 'in the service of' Her Excellency The Governor, Elizabeth Taylor of Eswitch Isle (a made-up British Overseas Territory, like my home). Retired from a fruitful career of racing at the age of five, the fabulous Gregory was put up for auction with the hopes that the handsome bay would fetch a decent price. Driven with fear, the stallion had a panic attack in the auction ring, causing him to seriously injure his handler. Because of this, no one would bid on the great racehorse out of the legendary Whitehall's lines. Originally at the auction to buy a nice thoroughbred broodmare, Taylor found herself taking pity on the stallion, who would most certainly meet a bitter and sad end if not sold. He was bought at an insanely low price, and taken home.

Her Excellency is patient, kindhearted and intelligent. She shares the ownership ofNorth West Equestrian, an active stable specialising in all disciplines, though she is not directly in charge of it's running and maintenance. She's not the most advanced of riders (in fact, she considers herself too old to ride), but enjoys spending time around horses, and dearly loves all of her equine companions, no matter their odd quirks and habits. Horses are her best friends, and she'll always find the time for them despite all her duties. Her home is right on the stable grounds, with paddocks instead of flowers in her garden. It's incredibly calming to wake up in the morning and see the beautiful Gregory outside her window, for he his one of her favourite horses. It is especially nice to see such beauty before a stressful day full of grumpy politicians and ministers, and always a pleasure to visit her friends in the evenings.

North West Equestrian: Located in the Abernathey district of Eswitch Isle, a territory I made up one day for no particular reason c: A very large stable; it is owned by the van Pey family, Her Excellency Elizabeth Taylor, and Ignatius Rutherford Twite, all experienced in working with horses. Only the van Peys and Taylor actually live on/near the grounds; Twite just puts money towards it and comes to train horses four times a week. It's quite a nice facility, not too big, and not too small. The horses here are loved and well cared for, with a farrier on site and a vet nearby. All horses are welcome here, and all disciplines are as well.

Why on earth is he dressed like this? Because it looks fabulous, that's why. Every Christmas Day, North West Equestrian hosts a small show/event type thing. It's basically a halter show, but festive costumes and fancy dress are encouraged. It's just for fun - there isn't really a prize for coming first. People just enjoy getting together to show off their horses and have a chat. Of course, Gregory is a contestant every time whether he likes it or not. This year, he was shown along with nine other stallions, five from Fairbanks, four from NW. They were dressed according to the theme 'ten lords a - leaping' Red, gold and faux ermine were all in order. It was a little hectic to have all the boys showing off, but they behaved well for the most part.





Hark! The herald angels sing
"Glory to the newborn King!


Good heavens! Did they ever shut up? Which idiotic man had come up with the idea of running around to sing at people's houses, anyway? Infuriated beyond measure, Gregory stood fuming, glaring at the group of singers who dared make such a racket on his doorstep. Ears flat back, the handsome stallion found himself baring his teeth in anger at the hideous noise. Two years he had been off the racetrack, and two years had passed with this awful cacophony appearing each winter. Now, on December the 24th, at 6:00 in the evening, it arrived again. Trudging through the snow, for it was a white December this time, group after group of horrendous noisemakers made their way to his lady's door, singing (if it could be called that) with passion. No doubt just as angry as he was, his dear Elizabeth opened the door to each pack of miserable singers, a wide smile on her face. Hmph. She must be good at hiding it. Surely she hated them as much as he did?

Christmas. As far as Gregory was concerned, it was a useless and unimportant time of year. It spread sickening ideas like 'selflessness,' 'compassion' and 'goodwill.' Strange smells of spices and chocolate floated on the wind like a disease, disrupting the equilibrium of quiet in the barn. All the horses worked themselves into a fluster around Christmas - new things to spook at, investigate, and play with all around! Out of the corner of his eye, Gregory watched a grey gelding in the paddock near him entertain another cluster of singers by playing with one of those odd baubles that appeared everywhere in this season. Stupid little boy. Why bring joy to others when you can bring joy to yourself? He made his way to the far end of his paddock, as far away from the noise as possible. It was soon time for him to be taken in to the barn, where he could relax and eat his dinner in peace and quiet.

Yet another clangourous gaggle of people stomped up to the door, passing him. They were rather short, following two taller ones, chattering like birds in their high - pitched voices. They passed him, paying no mind as he watched them through narrowed eyes. Children. Gregory strongly disliked children. Snotty little things, with grabby hands and whiny voices, always getting in the way. The little horrors gathered around the door to the house, and began to sing.



Silent night, Holy night
All is calm, all is bright,



Ha! All was most certainly not calm, especially with the children's nasty screeches filling the air. Poor Gregory couldn't stand it. He leapt up, brandishing hooves and teeth, screaming like a madman. Despite his efforts, the noise did not stop. If anything, they sang even louder. As much as he screamed, reared, and kicked the fence, the song still continued. Why, they must think he was singing along with them! The awful din he was making was twenty times more musical than their screeches, at any rate. Despite his efforts, Gregory could not shut the children up. Defeated, he sulked in the corner of his paddock, forced to listen to song after song destroy his sense of hearing. How he wished Christmas never existed!



Someday at Christmas man will not fail
Hate will be gone and love will prevail
Someday a new world that we can start
With hope in every heart



Gregory lifted his head. This was a new song, different in character from the rest. A sad yet hopeful melody, with the children's voices shaping its tune with the sweet and passionate innocence that only a child could have. Strange. As much as he hated to admit it, Gregory was starting to like this song. It reminded him of his younger years, when he had been a dreamer, a hopeless romantic, and always looking ahead. For a moment, his aristocratic pretense fell away, and he was once again a yearling, looking forward to the days ahead, happy to be alive. It touched him, and in that moment, if he could have, Gregory would have wept.

A little movement near the fence at his shoulder broke the spell. One little child, bundled up like an Eskimo, stared up at him. Her golden hair, tied loosely in a red bow, caught several tiny snowflakes as the fell, dusting her head with white. She must have left the group, most likely because she hated the singing as much as Gregory did. He pinned his ears and tossed his head in the hopes that she would go away. He was not in the mood for company right now. The little girl only smiled. The stallion stopped his fussing and looked at her for a second. Her smile widened.

"I think you're lonely," The honest, pure voice of a child reached Gregory's ears. Normally, he'd have fired a kick at anyone invading his privacy, but something told him not to. A tiny spark of something flickered in his heart as he lowered his head to the level of the little girl. Tentatively, she reached out through the fence and placed a hand on his forehead. It was warm and soft, even through the glove. Her mouth opened, and in the clearest voice, she sang;




Someday all our dreams will come to be
Someday in a world where men are free
Maybe not in time for you and me
But someday at Christmastime
Someday at Christmastime



Gregory stood, humble for once in his life. A sigh escaped him, tousling the little girl's golden hair.
She laughed. And surprisingly, Gregory liked that sound.

Voices called in the distance, urging the little girl to come back and join the others. She couldn't leave, not just yet. Reaching to grasp the bow in her hair, she pulled it loose, the red ribbon streaming in the gentle breeze. Gregory watched her. Whatever she was doing, he didn't mind. He trusted this little human. With clumsy hands, she reached up and placed the ribbon in his forelock, tying it in a rather sloppy bow. As she turned to leave, a small nicker bid her farewell.

"Bye!" The one word, accompanied by a little wave left Gregory feeling fulfilled and at peace. He would miss his little friend, he thought as her and the rest of the group walked to the gate. But he had learned something today, something that would take him far in life and make him a better horse. Maybe, he thought, Christmas wasn't really that horrible after all. The gift of giving is not something that can be appreciated unless one has felt its tremendous reward. Looking up, Gregory could just see a tiny splash of red above his eyes. And maybe, he thought, children weren't so bad either.

[Penultima]

You are allowed to pretty up the form, it just needs to include the 3 main elements :3

(btw, if you haven't noticed, he has a heterochromatic eye <3)

[silver ~]

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