[.Vetinater.]

This Gypsy Vanner came to us from an animal cruelty rescue;
We have worked with her for a while, and now this gentle horse is ready to find its forever home!
Poor thing is still scared of loud noises though~

--Information--

Owner: SerenWish
Name: Loch Nell Bannatyne; "Nell"
Breed: Gypsy Vanner
Coat: Light Dapple Grey
Markings: "Bald face"
Eyes: Ice-blue
Hooves: Pale horn
Height: 14.2 hh
Gender: Mare

~

[baby;]

Username: blackmidnight
Name: dappled sweet
Gender: Mare
Short personality: Dappled Sweet is a sweet girl but is frightened easily by loud noises she loves to run and be away from other horses
Story on why this horse is easily spooked: as a foal her mother was kicked out of the herd leaving her friends and every thing just because her dad was a loner but that exact day was a stormy night dark loud noises lighting stuck a tree and made a huge noise her and her mother ran but the fire was to fast it got to her mother she is scared because she thinks she's going to lose everything

[Tealea]

Username: Faith.
Name: Elyse
Gender: Female
Short personality: Soft spoken, Timid, Gentle, Caring
Story on why this horse is easily spooked:
Elyse used to be picked on as a young filly and the others would always giggle and laugh. She was picked on because she was different. She had a bright imagination and had different names for things as though she lived in her own world. The others thought she was strange because of this and made fun of her. Now, as she's older and has blossomed into a beautiful mare, she is still spooked by the sound of laughter even if they aren't even acknowledging her. She is too scared to use her unique names for things infront of others so usually tries to call things by their normal names such as a flower. Through it all she is still a caring mare who loves to care for other children and share her imagination with those that can understand her.
I hope it's fine I made art ;A; I needed to practice horses and I really couldn't help myself ^^"

[.Vetinater.]

I hope it's fine I made art ;A; I needed to practice horses and I really couldn't help myself ^^"

It's all good, Faith. c: It just won't add to your chances of winning the horse, though the artwork is priceless~ <3

[Tealea]

I hope it's fine I made art ;A; I needed to practice horses and I really couldn't help myself ^^"

It's all good, Faith. c: It just won't add to your chances of winning the horse, though the artwork is priceless~ <3

Oh okay C: That's fine ^^ I just needed some practice so I thought why not? c: Thanks ^^ <3

[Gà.]

Marking <3

[TheScamperPony]

I'm going to get all new characters now... you're officially MARKED c;

[SerenWish]

Username: SerenWish
Name: Loch Nell Bannatyne "Nell"
Gender: Mare
Short personality: Nell is a sweet-tempered for the most part, but she's not big on large groups of people or horses. She tends to bond with a handful of equines and humans instead, but she is very affectionate and loving towards those who are close to her. She enjoys attention, and she likes quiet early mornings spent resting in her stall or walking around the misty rolling hills of the pastures.
She is, however, still very skittish from the life she led before, and this has led her to be rather panicky if she gets stuck somewhere. She seems to suffer from a sort of equine claustrophobia at times, especially when there's a loud noise coupled with a tight space, like trailers. She will spook at loud noises, and seems to be especially frightened of deep, booming voices and loud cracks and thuds. She is very timid in new situations.
Story on why this horse is easily spooked:
Cold. Cold and wet. Mud squelches underneath my small hooves, matting the fur on my gangly legs. Loud booms that were once just rumbles in the sky are now deafening, coming every few breaths. Scars of white light marred my sight, nearly blinding after the dark tones of the night before. But Momma is getting farther away. I hear her squeals and snorts. And loud, deep voices, yelling at her. There are thuds. Momma screams at the men, screams for me, but the mud is dragging at my hooves- it's so hard to keep up with their faster pace. I'm sleepy. Why can't I sleep? A jolting figure emerges from the murky shadows of the woods, waving a cane at me. I try to move faster, but the mud sticks fast, and keeps me at a languid pace. Thud. A sharp ache in my side.
Scrambling forward from the mud, to get away from the loud yells and the thuds. My ribs ache. I don't want to go! I want to go back to the warm shed with Momma! But Momma is going away, and I can't go back without her. She is like the sun, my hope of dawn- I must stay close to her, for she is warmth and light and comfort. Her splotched hide is coated with mud, and twigs and leaves are tangled in her mane and tail. The rain pelts at us, making rattling noises on the leaves around us. The booming sounds make me want to run away. But I need Momma. I can't be here without Momma. Another thud to my side. I cry out.
Suddenly the large form of my dam rears up, as she strikes out with hooves like flint, her eyes glinting like stars. She lashes out at the men, at the ropes pulling her, and kicks at the canes and sticks. She screams out what sounds like a hateful cry to other's ears, but to me the meaning is clear: don't touch my filly. I stare at her, my sunlight, my warmth- and then a boom, louder than any of the yells or the rumbles from the sky, thunders out, and a flash of not-lightning meets my eyes.
She staggers, crashing onto her side. Her legs kick out without meeting anything, before she goes dreadfully still. Too still. I cannot cry out this time. It takes heartbeats for her to go so stiff, but it feels like a lifetime. I want to move, but my legs are stiff. The men run. They are angry, yelling at each other, but the scent of fear goes with them. I
I stumble up to her form, cold and wet and miserable. I need my sun. I need the warmth, light, and comfort. But all I feel is a cold, wet, muddy body. I snuffle at her, push at her mane, feeling a little whinny dying out in my throat. Pain. Aching much deeper than my side. The smell of the once-Momma overwhelms me. I have to get away. The fear shooting through me takes over my mind, clouding it, making the rainy world even more distorted and blurred. Adrenaline pumps through me, though I'm exhausted, and I run. I run and run, until I can no longer run, and then I scrap my hooves and plod along, barely able to move. I fall down a slope eventually, a small one, and lay at the bottom, breathing heavy and curling up, feeling so alone. The loud noises have died out, but they still ring in my ears. The yells. The rumbles. And the boom.

March 27th, 2008

Missing Horse found Dead in Woods: Stolen?

Today, the Aldair's missing horse, a rare paint Gypsy Vanner from Europe, was found dead on a forest trail. Some officials say that it looks like she was stolen from her paddock two nights ago. There were lead ropes and what looks to be like a dose of tranquilizers on the trail. There were also tire tracks from a truck and a horse trailer on the other end of the trail. Mrs. Audrey Aldair said that she "is very sad to hear of this tragedy." The mare was her late husband's. Despite being retired now, the man could not let go of his favorite little imported mare, and had been "so excited for her foal." The horse was a first-time mother, and even now the police say they can find no sign of the foal. They cannot tell if the baby horse was successfully stolen or if she ran off. Some friends of the family say they will go to try and find her this weekend.
As for why the beautiful horse was killed rather than taken? The sheriff says that "most likely, the mare started acting out and being wild, and the would-be horse thieves decided she wasn't worth the trouble. It's quite sad." Mrs. Aldair's final comment was this, "I was hoping to give the mare and foal to a Vanner rescue, so that they could be found a perfect home, as I am moving soon- Henry was really the horse person of the family. It's sad to me that his beloved horses are now dead and lost." Hopefully the baby will be found- and if sold, we pray it finds more caring people than the ones who took it from its home.

Alrighty! So, explanation time. If you couldn't tell, the first bit is of Nell's recount of the scary night, while the newspaper is giving a more human perspective. (I tried to get that "newspaper" tone down...this is like a small-town newspaper, they do report on this sort of thing. XD) If you're curious, Nell was nearly ready to be weaned at this time, so when she was found by rescuers she was obviously in bad shape, but she wasn't starving to death.

Nell's name is actually a mix of a Scottish Clan (Bannatyne) and Loch Nell actually comes from the name Lochnell, the name of a Scottish castle of a different clan that had a horse as their crest. It's very complicated I know. But I wanted to go Scottish since there are a population of Vanners living there, and they get some of their looks wayyyy back from horses of that area. :3

[.Vetinater.]

Username: SerenWish
Name: Loch Nell Bannatyne "Nell"
Gender: Mare
Short personality: Nell is a sweet-tempered for the most part, but she's not big on large groups of people or horses. She tends to bond with a handful of equines and humans instead, but she is very affectionate and loving towards those who are close to her. She enjoys attention, and she likes quiet early mornings spent resting in her stall or walking around the misty rolling hills of the pastures.
She is, however, still very skittish from the life she led before, and this has led her to be rather panicky if she gets stuck somewhere. She seems to suffer from a sort of equine claustrophobia at times, especially when there's a loud noise coupled with a tight space, like trailers. She will spook at loud noises, and seems to be especially frightened of deep, booming voices and loud cracks and thuds. She is very timid in new situations.
Story on why this horse is easily spooked:
Cold. Cold and wet. Mud squelches underneath my small hooves, matting the fur on my gangly legs. Loud booms that were once just rumbles in the sky are now deafening, coming every few breaths. Scars of white light marred my sight, nearly blinding after the dark tones of the night before. But Momma is getting farther away. I hear her squeals and snorts. And loud, deep voices, yelling at her. There are thuds. Momma screams at the men, screams for me, but the mud is dragging at my hooves- it's so hard to keep up with their faster pace. I'm sleepy. Why can't I sleep? A jolting figure emerges from the murky shadows of the woods, waving a cane at me. I try to move faster, but the mud sticks fast, and keeps me at a languid pace. Thud. A sharp ache in my side.
Scrambling forward from the mud, to get away from the loud yells and the thuds. My ribs ache. I don't want to go! I want to go back to the warm shed with Momma! But Momma is going away, and I can't go back without her. She is like the sun, my hope of dawn- I must stay close to her, for she is warmth and light and comfort. Her splotched hide is coated with mud, and twigs and leaves are tangled in her mane and tail. The rain pelts at us, making rattling noises on the leaves around us. The booming sounds make me want to run away. But I need Momma. I can't be here without Momma. Another thud to my side. I cry out.
Suddenly the large form of my dam rears up, as she strikes out with hooves like flint, her eyes glinting like stars. She lashes out at the men, at the ropes pulling her, and kicks at the canes and sticks. She screams out what sounds like a hateful cry to other's ears, but to me the meaning is clear: don't touch my filly. I stare at her, my sunlight, my warmth- and then a boom, louder than any of the yells or the rumbles from the sky, thunders out, and a flash of not-lightning meets my eyes.
She staggers, crashing onto her side. Her legs kick out without meeting anything, before she goes dreadfully still. Too still. I cannot cry out this time. It takes heartbeats for her to go so stiff, but it feels like a lifetime. I want to move, but my legs are stiff. The men run. They are angry, yelling at each other, but the scent of fear goes with them. I
I stumble up to her form, cold and wet and miserable. I need my sun. I need the warmth, light, and comfort. But all I feel is a cold, wet, muddy body. I snuffle at her, push at her mane, feeling a little whinny dying out in my throat. Pain. Aching much deeper than my side. The smell of the once-Momma overwhelms me. I have to get away. The fear shooting through me takes over my mind, clouding it, making the rainy world even more distorted and blurred. Adrenaline pumps through me, though I'm exhausted, and I run. I run and run, until I can no longer run, and then I scrap my hooves and plod along, barely able to move. I fall down a slope eventually, a small one, and lay at the bottom, breathing heavy and curling up, feeling so alone. The loud noises have died out, but they still ring in my ears. The yells. The rumbles. And the boom.

March 27th, 2008

Missing Horse found Dead in Woods: Stolen?

Today, the Aldair's missing horse, a rare paint Gypsy Vanner from Europe, was found dead on a forest trail. Some officials say that it looks like she was stolen from her paddock two nights ago. There were lead ropes and what looks to be like a dose of tranquilizers on the trail. There were also tire tracks from a truck and a horse trailer on the other end of the trail. Mrs. Audrey Aldair said that she "is very sad to hear of this tragedy." The mare was her late husband's. Despite being retired now, the man could not let go of his favorite little imported mare, and had been "so excited for her foal." The horse was a first-time mother, and even now the police say they can find no sign of the foal. They cannot tell if the baby horse was successfully stolen or if she ran off. Some friends of the family say they will go to try and find her this weekend.
As for why the beautiful horse was killed rather than taken? The sheriff says that "most likely, the mare started acting out and being wild, and the would-be horse thieves decided she wasn't worth the trouble. It's quite sad." Mrs. Aldair's final comment was this, "I was hoping to give the mare and foal to a Vanner rescue, so that they could be found a perfect home, as I am moving soon- Henry was really the horse person of the family. It's sad to me that his beloved horses are now dead and lost." Hopefully the baby will be found- and if sold, we pray it finds more caring people than the ones who took it from its home.

Alrighty! So, explanation time. If you couldn't tell, the first bit is of Nell's recount of the scary night, while the newspaper is giving a more human perspective. (I tried to get that "newspaper" tone down...this is like a small-town newspaper, they do report on this sort of thing. XD) If you're curious, Nell was nearly ready to be weaned at this time, so when she was found by rescuers she was obviously in bad shape, but she wasn't starving to death.

Nell's name is actually a mix of a Scottish Clan (Bannatyne) and Loch Nell actually comes from the name Lochnell, the name of a Scottish castle of a different clan that had a horse as their crest. It's very complicated I know. But I wanted to go Scottish since there are a population of Vanners living there, and they get some of their looks wayyyy back from horses of that area. :3

Oh goodness, that story you wrote, though quite tragic, was so gripping and well written! ^^ I loved it -- so much that you now have a new Gypsy Vanner! <3 Take good care of Nell~

[SerenWish]

Eeeeee! She's my last gyspy vanner, my second, but yay! I'm so excited! I'm also SO glad you enjoyed my story...it was fun to write! Though a bit sad too!