Username: Ashwyn
Kennel Number: # 131
Name: Cortez
Gender: Male/Stallion
Breed/Species: Gypsy Vanner/Andalusian horse
Use:
I plan on using Cortez in a novel I'm beginning to work on, it involves a horse herd in an alternate universe and I feel he would fit in beautifully there. Truth be told I didn't originally have a good place for him within the story, since he didn't fit the male antagonists appearance -or at least what I perceived him to look like- And yet I couldn't get him out of my head, then last night I had an inspiration, Cortez is a warrior of sorts, he fought in the Great Horse War but deserted when the bloodshed and death became too much for him, he ended up stumbling upon Vasilios -the male protagonist- who took him into the herd. Since then Cortez has become something of an adviser to Vasilios and is responsible for the defense and protection of the herd. I also plan on using him in my signature, on my website, and quite possibly in a roleplay or two.
Other:
I plan on giving Cortez a mate sometime throughout the duration of the story. I'm also going to get lots of art of him -hopefully- In the alternate horse world they age like humans, so Cortez would be about 28 years old. Though he isn't entirely sure about his age -see Background/History for an explanation.-
Mario Kart
Personality:
Cortez is something of a "strong-silent" type. He prefers to tackle the tasks set to him quietly, efficiently, and without delay. This has made him an invaluable resource to the Herd, and makes him very easy to get along with. When he does engage in conversations he is generally found to have something of a poetic, if a little depressing, mind and heart. He doesn't deny this, and given what he went through it isn't all that surprising. He's touchy about talking about his past, he doesn't feel its anyhorse's business, and that they should judge him on who he is now, not what he was, so why should it matter in the first place? He has good days and bad days, though generally when he's feeling particularly down he hides it beneath a mask of forced calm and by pushing others away from him. Vasilios believes he is scarred mentally by the horror's he saw on the battlefield, and does everything in his power to protect his friend from being exposed to things that might trigger those memories.
When it comes to his duty as a defender of the herd Cortez is all business, no enemy has ever gotten past him, and the few who make it to him encounter a fiercely protective stallion with extensive battle training and a will to dominate and succeed that make him deadly. He also is very discerning and has a keen eye for his surroundings, so any horseflesh that had ill intents could easily be found out and beaten back.
He doesn't take very well to the whole concept of friendship, he was always ostracized as a colt, and now in his later years he finds it difficult to trust or open himself up to anyhorse. In fact the only friendship he has would be his close relationship to Vasilios, with Cortez acting as a confidante, friend, and advisor to the young leader of the Alpinea Herd.
Background/History:
The air was crisp and cold around him, Cortex stamped an anxious hoof and watched as his agitated breath wafted up like a cloud through the air. The screams of dying horse soldiers had him pinning his ears back in horror. There was no glory in this, no honour, no matter what the corporal's said. They were simply wrong. THIS was wrong. Why did they resort to killing off their own kind like savages? Were there not enough dangers to threaten a horse's life in the world? Why did they have to kill their kinsmen as well? Frankly Cortez felt that if things continued as they were....well, sooner rather than later there would be no more horseflesh in Kanarda. A grim and horrific thought. Who would continue in their place? The wolf-folk? Dull, unintelligent, brutish, and self-serving, Kanarda would be reduced to ash almost immediately. Cortez shook his head, a lock of his unruly mane spilling forward into his eyes. It reminded him of his lost tail, snapped off in the midst of an unholy fight with another stallion who had been out of his mind, some sort of disease perhaps. Actually, Cortez had his suspicions that the Horse Warlord's had been making their beserkers feed on flesh in order to create the blood-madness in them. It sickened the brown stallion. How anyone could condone such actions...let alone justify them was beyond Cortez's comprehension. A single ear-splitting shriek of agony burned through his ears, and Cortez side-stepped anxiously. A growing panic was rising within him, what would become of him if he remained here? What horrific monster would he become? Which illness of the mind would he succumb to? Would he be the blood-lusting beserker? Heartless war lord? Emotionless or despairing soldier? Nothing good would come of this misery, naught but a death of heart, soul, mind, or body. And though it filled him almost equally with fear at the thought, Cortez knew he must desert this wretched place, to save himself, to save who he was as a horse. This war was killing him, from the inside out, like a worm within an apple that turns its insides into naught but hole-riddled mold, even while the exterior looked shiny and red. He would leave, escape, and he'd do it soon.....tonight.
Stars twinkled merrily up in the sky, and Cortez found himself warring between a hatred and a love for the ethereal glowing orbs. It angered him slightly that they could still shine, bright, happy, and care-free, even though they must be helpless to do anything but watch, watch as merciless deaths, and incomprehensibly violence was committed far below them. Yet how could he do anything but love them? They stood like an emblem of hope, a promise that no matter what atrocities horse-kind committed, the stars would always be in the sky, waiting to shine down on those who could turn their muzzle's up in faithful repentance and drink in the light. Cortez shook his mane ruefully, any more of this sappiness and he'd turn to mush on the ground. Carefully he turned an eye onto the nightwatcher, though thankfully he appeared to have fallen asleep at his post, poor chap, he'd likely endure some sort of punishment because of Cortez. Momentary guilt flickered through him, but Cortez couldn't afford to feel guilty, truthfully the entire army should rebel against this idiocy and escape. He would just have to believe that it was their own fault for not deserting at every opportunity, if he allowed himself to feel the guilt he'd go insane. With that thought in mind Cortez tossed his head and gave a soft snort before tip-toeing his way out of the camp and into the woods below.
Anxiety pricked him at every sound, have they found me? Are they going to drag me back and kill me as a deserter? the fearful thoughts tumbled through his mind almost quicker than he could stop them, and it was only with a gigantic amount of self-control that he managed to push back his rampaging fears. Suddenly he spooked, and with only a loud and rather startled snort he sped through the trees, weaving between the thick trunks, while the starling that had startled him into his earthly flight flitted in surprise up higher into the trees. Cortez didn't know where he was going, or what he would do now, they would find his old home and old haunts, scour the Herd's he had associated with, and since that was the case only one option was left to the venerable Cortez. He would have to start life anew, a brand new existence in a foreign land and with horses he had never met, never WOULD have met had this not occurred. He'd have to view it as an adventure, something delightful and great that he was embarking upon, not the last resort of a hunted horse. Cortez only stopped briefly in order to look down upon the vale in which he had been fighting only yesterday. At one time it might have been delicately beautiful, but looking down on it now, littered as it was with bodies and streaked with blood, Cortez felt nothing but revulsion and aversion to the wretched place. He was rather grateful though, that the hillock upon which he had a vantage point of the battlefield was quite well hidden from any searching eyes down below. They would be missing him soon, at the morning roll-call, and Cortez had no desire to be within the vicinity of this place when they realized his absence.
The days dragged by, and the endless running had Cortez running on empty, his very soul felt weary, and all the large stallion wanted was to slip into some peaceful valley, feed on sweet grass, and drift into the blissful oblivion of sleep. Sadly that was not an option, he had to run, and keep running, until he found a place that he could actually settle in, for good. He had begun to notice things that he had never perceived before, the feeling of sweat trickling down his neck, an unpleasant feeling that made him feel even more weary and downtrodden, the twitching of his eyelids, due to his lack of rest and constant movement, and last but certainly not least, the ache that developed in the centre of his hooves, a persistent feeling that tortured him even now. Cortez supposed that he might be losing his sanity, though in his estimation it was still better to die of insanity here, free in the wilderness, than in the midst of bloodshed and the screams of the dying.
It was as he was musing over these things that it happened, in his lack of observation and sudden inward reflection Cortez had forgotten to keep an eye on his surroundings, and when the steep cliff appeared....he had no inkling what was happening. One moment he stood upon the cliff's edge, wavering, pondering, lost to himself, and then with a sudden plummeting horror he began to fall back down into the yawning abyss, or at least, that was how it felt to him. Though the drop wasn't nearly as long, or as deadly, as Cortez felt it was, he still found himself dazed and only semi-conscious when the dust settled. His entire body ached, from his nose to his tail, and all Cortez wanted to do was squeeze his eyes shut and lie perfectly still until the pain ended....yet that was not to be. Out of nowhere a form suddenly materialized, and Cortez was still able enough to take in the sight of the well-muscled and very handsome stallion that bent worriedly over him. "Well hello there, are you alright? Took quite the tumble I should think!" the other stallion tossed his head and let out a snort, "I'm sorry for my idiocy, I suppose its rather a redundant question to ask if you're alright. Come, I shall help you back to me herd and you can recuperate in peace. Does that seem agreeable to you sir?" The youthfulness and yet commanding tone in the stallions voice brooked no argument, and with only a weary nod Cortez managed to pull himself to his feet. The stranger was right there, waiting for him to lean against him, and though it didn't seem to be the sort of thing a Herd Lord would allow, Cortez did not protest against the help and gratefully leaned against the stranger's strong shoulder. "I didn't introduce myself, and I apologize for that though...in your condition it likely wouldn't have mattered to you eh? Well regardless, I'm Vasilios, Herd Lord to the Alpinea Herd, and you are welcome to join us once you are well if you so choose. I rather surmise from your build that you're something of a warrior. Fled that wretched war perhaps? Well good on you, 'tis a foolish venture that I don't support." Cortez marveled at the cheerful confidence that this stallion exuded, didn't he realize what could be done to him if the High Lord's ever heard this? From the faint twitching of Vasilios ears Cortez guessed the answer was yes....and he admired the stallion's bravery all the more for it. Slowly Cortez forced his rusty vocal cords to work. "I'm Cortez.....and I'd be honoured to join your herd." Was it foolish to accept this stallion's offer on site? Cortez didn't think so, it might be a little rash but not foolish. What other prospects did he have? Besides, any longer out there on his own and he'd likely go mad. This seemed a much healthier alternative.
Cortez is something of a "strong-silent" type. He prefers to tackle the tasks set to him quietly, efficiently, and without delay. This has made him an invaluable resource to the Herd, and makes him very easy to get along with. When he does engage in conversations he is generally found to have something of a poetic, if a little depressing, mind and heart. He doesn't deny this, and given what he went through it isn't all that surprising. He's touchy about talking about his past, he doesn't feel its anyhorse's business, and that they should judge him on who he is now, not what he was, so why should it matter in the first place? He has good days and bad days, though generally when he's feeling particularly down he hides it beneath a mask of forced calm and by pushing others away from him. Vasilios believes he is scarred mentally by the horror's he saw on the battlefield, and does everything in his power to protect his friend from being exposed to things that might trigger those memories.
When it comes to his duty as a defender of the herd Cortez is all business, no enemy has ever gotten past him, and the few who make it to him encounter a fiercely protective stallion with extensive battle training and a will to dominate and succeed that make him deadly. He also is very discerning and has a keen eye for his surroundings, so any horseflesh that had ill intents could easily be found out and beaten back.
He doesn't take very well to the whole concept of friendship, he was always ostracized as a colt, and now in his later years he finds it difficult to trust or open himself up to anyhorse. In fact the only friendship he has would be his close relationship to Vasilios, with Cortez acting as a confidante, friend, and advisor to the young leader of the Alpinea Herd.
Background/History:
The air was crisp and cold around him, Cortex stamped an anxious hoof and watched as his agitated breath wafted up like a cloud through the air. The screams of dying horse soldiers had him pinning his ears back in horror. There was no glory in this, no honour, no matter what the corporal's said. They were simply wrong. THIS was wrong. Why did they resort to killing off their own kind like savages? Were there not enough dangers to threaten a horse's life in the world? Why did they have to kill their kinsmen as well? Frankly Cortez felt that if things continued as they were....well, sooner rather than later there would be no more horseflesh in Kanarda. A grim and horrific thought. Who would continue in their place? The wolf-folk? Dull, unintelligent, brutish, and self-serving, Kanarda would be reduced to ash almost immediately. Cortez shook his head, a lock of his unruly mane spilling forward into his eyes. It reminded him of his lost tail, snapped off in the midst of an unholy fight with another stallion who had been out of his mind, some sort of disease perhaps. Actually, Cortez had his suspicions that the Horse Warlord's had been making their beserkers feed on flesh in order to create the blood-madness in them. It sickened the brown stallion. How anyone could condone such actions...let alone justify them was beyond Cortez's comprehension. A single ear-splitting shriek of agony burned through his ears, and Cortez side-stepped anxiously. A growing panic was rising within him, what would become of him if he remained here? What horrific monster would he become? Which illness of the mind would he succumb to? Would he be the blood-lusting beserker? Heartless war lord? Emotionless or despairing soldier? Nothing good would come of this misery, naught but a death of heart, soul, mind, or body. And though it filled him almost equally with fear at the thought, Cortez knew he must desert this wretched place, to save himself, to save who he was as a horse. This war was killing him, from the inside out, like a worm within an apple that turns its insides into naught but hole-riddled mold, even while the exterior looked shiny and red. He would leave, escape, and he'd do it soon.....tonight.
Stars twinkled merrily up in the sky, and Cortez found himself warring between a hatred and a love for the ethereal glowing orbs. It angered him slightly that they could still shine, bright, happy, and care-free, even though they must be helpless to do anything but watch, watch as merciless deaths, and incomprehensibly violence was committed far below them. Yet how could he do anything but love them? They stood like an emblem of hope, a promise that no matter what atrocities horse-kind committed, the stars would always be in the sky, waiting to shine down on those who could turn their muzzle's up in faithful repentance and drink in the light. Cortez shook his mane ruefully, any more of this sappiness and he'd turn to mush on the ground. Carefully he turned an eye onto the nightwatcher, though thankfully he appeared to have fallen asleep at his post, poor chap, he'd likely endure some sort of punishment because of Cortez. Momentary guilt flickered through him, but Cortez couldn't afford to feel guilty, truthfully the entire army should rebel against this idiocy and escape. He would just have to believe that it was their own fault for not deserting at every opportunity, if he allowed himself to feel the guilt he'd go insane. With that thought in mind Cortez tossed his head and gave a soft snort before tip-toeing his way out of the camp and into the woods below.
Anxiety pricked him at every sound, have they found me? Are they going to drag me back and kill me as a deserter? the fearful thoughts tumbled through his mind almost quicker than he could stop them, and it was only with a gigantic amount of self-control that he managed to push back his rampaging fears. Suddenly he spooked, and with only a loud and rather startled snort he sped through the trees, weaving between the thick trunks, while the starling that had startled him into his earthly flight flitted in surprise up higher into the trees. Cortez didn't know where he was going, or what he would do now, they would find his old home and old haunts, scour the Herd's he had associated with, and since that was the case only one option was left to the venerable Cortez. He would have to start life anew, a brand new existence in a foreign land and with horses he had never met, never WOULD have met had this not occurred. He'd have to view it as an adventure, something delightful and great that he was embarking upon, not the last resort of a hunted horse. Cortez only stopped briefly in order to look down upon the vale in which he had been fighting only yesterday. At one time it might have been delicately beautiful, but looking down on it now, littered as it was with bodies and streaked with blood, Cortez felt nothing but revulsion and aversion to the wretched place. He was rather grateful though, that the hillock upon which he had a vantage point of the battlefield was quite well hidden from any searching eyes down below. They would be missing him soon, at the morning roll-call, and Cortez had no desire to be within the vicinity of this place when they realized his absence.
The days dragged by, and the endless running had Cortez running on empty, his very soul felt weary, and all the large stallion wanted was to slip into some peaceful valley, feed on sweet grass, and drift into the blissful oblivion of sleep. Sadly that was not an option, he had to run, and keep running, until he found a place that he could actually settle in, for good. He had begun to notice things that he had never perceived before, the feeling of sweat trickling down his neck, an unpleasant feeling that made him feel even more weary and downtrodden, the twitching of his eyelids, due to his lack of rest and constant movement, and last but certainly not least, the ache that developed in the centre of his hooves, a persistent feeling that tortured him even now. Cortez supposed that he might be losing his sanity, though in his estimation it was still better to die of insanity here, free in the wilderness, than in the midst of bloodshed and the screams of the dying.
It was as he was musing over these things that it happened, in his lack of observation and sudden inward reflection Cortez had forgotten to keep an eye on his surroundings, and when the steep cliff appeared....he had no inkling what was happening. One moment he stood upon the cliff's edge, wavering, pondering, lost to himself, and then with a sudden plummeting horror he began to fall back down into the yawning abyss, or at least, that was how it felt to him. Though the drop wasn't nearly as long, or as deadly, as Cortez felt it was, he still found himself dazed and only semi-conscious when the dust settled. His entire body ached, from his nose to his tail, and all Cortez wanted to do was squeeze his eyes shut and lie perfectly still until the pain ended....yet that was not to be. Out of nowhere a form suddenly materialized, and Cortez was still able enough to take in the sight of the well-muscled and very handsome stallion that bent worriedly over him. "Well hello there, are you alright? Took quite the tumble I should think!" the other stallion tossed his head and let out a snort, "I'm sorry for my idiocy, I suppose its rather a redundant question to ask if you're alright. Come, I shall help you back to me herd and you can recuperate in peace. Does that seem agreeable to you sir?" The youthfulness and yet commanding tone in the stallions voice brooked no argument, and with only a weary nod Cortez managed to pull himself to his feet. The stranger was right there, waiting for him to lean against him, and though it didn't seem to be the sort of thing a Herd Lord would allow, Cortez did not protest against the help and gratefully leaned against the stranger's strong shoulder. "I didn't introduce myself, and I apologize for that though...in your condition it likely wouldn't have mattered to you eh? Well regardless, I'm Vasilios, Herd Lord to the Alpinea Herd, and you are welcome to join us once you are well if you so choose. I rather surmise from your build that you're something of a warrior. Fled that wretched war perhaps? Well good on you, 'tis a foolish venture that I don't support." Cortez marveled at the cheerful confidence that this stallion exuded, didn't he realize what could be done to him if the High Lord's ever heard this? From the faint twitching of Vasilios ears Cortez guessed the answer was yes....and he admired the stallion's bravery all the more for it. Slowly Cortez forced his rusty vocal cords to work. "I'm Cortez.....and I'd be honoured to join your herd." Was it foolish to accept this stallion's offer on site? Cortez didn't think so, it might be a little rash but not foolish. What other prospects did he have? Besides, any longer out there on his own and he'd likely go mad. This seemed a much healthier alternative.
all the best everyone xx
