by bears » Fri Jul 24, 2015 5:07 am
Username: Mother of Bears
Name: Cigar
Gender: Stallion
Halter Color: worn, burned leather with silver buckles
Personality:
Smoke Meaning: Cigar had gambled his position in the Mafia as a street boy one too many times, and his career went down in the most graceful scene you've ever seen. Once a number runner, and after that a stallion with power, his life became problematic with the story of one Cigar.
When he first joined he was a yearling bachelor with attitude, who left his home in a fury and was then overly hesitant to join the Mafia. The lowest position you start as is someone's man-servant, and it was with shaking hands and trembling lips that he dropped a smoking cigar from Puerto Rico into the lake, and started the travesty. New Orleans isn't a town you want to meddle with to feircly, because it bites back, and that's precisely what it did to Cigar. The man in front of him had impatiently talked to several people on the phone, and had yelled at Cigar to "Get my 'bacco, boy!". Curling his lip, the man clapped a hand on the boy's back and muttered a single word. "Cigar." That was how he gained his namesake.
After that, everything he did seemed to wreck his reputation further. He was laughing stock of the other men in the mafia, but he slowly rose in position to a gambler. He made his money on the streets, pick pocketing for money he could keep or gamble.
It was when he dropped a smoking cigarette on a man's shoe that he sent his life down the drain. The man was well made and rich, and his shoes could pay for a years worth of hot meals for Cigar, the simple street boy. The following night the barn he slept in went up in flames, and with it everything he owned burned.
Desperate, he turned to the town's most infamous practice--voodoo. The man was shady and wouldn't step out of the safety of the shadows that clung to the corners of the alley when Cigar had found him. Cigar had no other choice if he wanted to keep his head, and voodoo couldn't be as terrible as the wrath of the mafia. The man was tall and lean, and skinny enough you could see his bones. His skin was a rich olive tone, and his voice was heavy with an accent that was foreign to Cigar. Strange jewels hung from his neck, and his fingers were armored in rings of all types of metals. It took twenty minutes, and a trade, and the man promised him safety from the mafia.
Regret really set in when he blacked out and woke up in a completely new earthly form--the voodoo man had made him into a horse so the mafia wouldn't find him, in exchange for his sight. "Cigar, eh? Pretty suiting for you now." He had said, rubbing his wrinkled chin thoughtfully. White marred his coat, a reminder of the trouble he had caused in getting his house burned down, and the voodoo man had a painfully ironic sense of humor to put smoke patterns on his legs. The mark of voodoo discoloured his back and face.
1 Extra:
Last edited by
bears on Fri Jul 24, 2015 11:23 pm, edited 5 times in total.
.png)
.jpg)
.png)
