This is going to be a free form contest, meaning you can add whatever you'd like, although there are guidelines. You must give at least a brief description of this guy's rider (a ref sheet is preferred; horsy1050 has two nice human editables if you need lines ^^) and a visual reference of tack. His tack must have some shark like attributes (maybe some fins? make sure the saddle is still usable though) and a solution for his missing tail web, which would inhibit flight otherwise. Everything else is optional, but art, personality, and a description of how he got some of his scars (story?) are big boosts. Formatting and prettying up your form is also encouraged.
I ᶫᵒᵛᵉᵧₒᵤ Ian ♥ wrote:┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
Hide my face again,
Harbor in the shadows.
Feel the weight of sin hammering away
Die with the guilt of a thousand AWOL soldiers!
Die and watch the scythe usher me astray!
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┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
I can't go on this way.
Not as I am today.
The ugly side of me is strong.
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Take aim, a loaded gun.
Pull back on all who run.
A coward's truth inside the wrong.
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┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
This means war
This means war
This means war
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┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
Lash your tongue of bane.
Carry me to nowhere.
Mental holocaust.
Battle never ends.
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┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
Lie!
Mask the pain
Of a child who has been forsaken
Lie!
To myself
Praise the new regime.
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I left me long ago
Reasons you'll never know
No one to miss me when I'm gone.
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┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
With no more words to say,
No argument to stay.
Another post where I don't belong.
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┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
This means war
This means war
This means war
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┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
No home to call my own,
No finding someone new.
No one to break the fall,
No one to see me through.
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No name to carry on,
No promise for today.
No one to hear the call,
No tattered flag to raise.
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Walk the razor's edge,
Cut into the madness.
Question all you trust,
Buy into the fear.
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I see the man ripping at my soul now!
I, I know the man -
I know him all too well.
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┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
There's nothing here for free
Lost is who I want to be
My serpent blood can strike so cold
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┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
On any given day,
I'll take it all away.
Another thought I can't control.
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┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
This means war
This means war
This means war
This means war
This means war
┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛H A D Ú R
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ＳＨＥ ＨＥＬＤ ＩＮ ＨＥＲ ＨＡＮＤＳ ＦＯＲ ＯＮＥ ＢＲＩＥＦ ＭＯＭＥＮＴ,
ＴＨＥ ＧＬＯＢＥ ＷＨＩＣＨ ＷＥ ＳＰＥＮＤ ＯＵＲ ＥＮＴＩＲＥ ＬＩＶＥＳ
ＴＲＹＩＮＧ ＴＯ ＳＨＡＰＥ, ＲＯＵＮＤ, ＷＨＯＬＥ, ＡＮＤ ＥＮＴＩＲＥ ＦＲＯＭ
ＴＨＥ ＣＯＮＦＵＳＩＯＮ ＯＦ ＣＨＡＯＳ
┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛username: I ᶫᵒᵛᵉᵧₒᵤ Ian ♥
name: Hadúr, Hodúr in old Hungarian, short for Hadak Ura, meaning "warlord" or "lord of the armies".
reason: Reason for choosing the name - well, I knew I had to have the perfect name for this guy. He's deadly, that much was obvious, so he needed a name that had pride and respect as a given, and just saying it was bound to make some of the weaker-spined guards of fabulous treasures wet their wee little shorts. So Hadúr it was. It souned old, and proud, and the meaning was just an added bonus c:
gender: Male, of course.
height: 5.8 feet.
personality: Hadúr is a brazen and charming member of the bat dragon species. He's daring, too, he won't back down even if he knows he cannot win. A scallywag, a swashbuckler both Hadúr and Thracian have been called many things - not all of them nice. A denizen of the shadows, Hadúr seems to be little more than a ghost, a sigh in the boughs of a pine tree and the hint of a shadow at noon. For all that he is, however, there is more than meets the eye, and his random acts of kindness should not be taken lightly. Everything has a price, and even this robin-hood-in-arms has his stories.
history: Not much is known about Hadúr. He was abandoned by misfortune, or chance, or both, and was found young and blind by a boy. With his first few days on the streets Hadúr had lost a tailfin, the youth whom found him fixed him up with "hard-earned" (nicked) money. Thracian spent weeks stealing supplies to that Hadúr could fly again. They spent months playing and feeding and stealing, sleeping in a muddy pile under a bench or a moldy pile of blankets or worse -
or better.
The year passed and Hadúr grew up, a young bat dragon without a rider. Thracian learned along with the young male, and though they had a couple of nasty falls they both made it, and in time Thracian's legs hardened and his arms grew wiry with the strain of holding fast to Hadúr's neck, and before they knew it they had left their birth city to find better places to rob. Every place they came across would have things disappear, and the pair sold their 'treasures' in the next town. Hadúr protected their keep, an unspoken promise of better tack as the pile grew. A few coins, here and there, would disappear into the hungry, grasping hand of street kids, their tear-and-soot stained faces reminding Thracian of his own childhood, and he remembered the sharp gratitude of being handed a few coins - if it meant that those kids would be able to eat for the night, well, Hadúr didn't mind sharing a few coins either.
But they developed a problem. Because of their generosity, or habit of stealing from the rich, or both - this haphazard kindnesses that Thracian and Hadúr developed became a sort of reputation. They really are a pair of scallywags and thieves, but they can always find shelter from the authorities in the poor sectors.
Once Thracian saved up enough money, he actually did reputable business for once. Going to the tanners was nerve-wracking for both males, but in the end they had Hadúr measured, and the prints were sent to the blacksmith after to add the finishing touches. The price was monstrous, but nothing that Thracian didn't already have
Anything for his Hadúr.
Both were immensely pleased with the work and Hadúr was glad that Thracian couldn't fall off any more. The pair began to be more daring, flying right into prisons to break people out, executing razor-sharp turns and flying upside down in some of their more brazen rescue missions.
At least that's what the stories say. I wouldn't believe them.
SADDLE INFORMATION:
saddle - suede grip for long flights. supple tree, even with short length, for the outstanding agility needed in their line of work. groove for knees for extra grip & support. short saddle to get rid of unnecessary weight on Hadúr. edge of saddle lined with the teeth of their victims (or Hadúr's prey). six rows, like shark teeth. has a breast strap, two cinches, and a tail strap to stop most movement during escapes - also has a safety strap that is wrapped around Thracian's waist and lower body for upside-down flights and maneuvers.
bridle - no bit, so Hadúr is free to bite enemies. noseband is leather with colored stones and shiny rocks given to Hadúr and Thracian for doing "good" deeds. noseband is held on by leather crownpiece. also has the matching canine teeth of Hadúr's first victim affixed to the front.
missing tailfin - the missing tailweb is not a problem, as Hadúr had corrective surgery. The missing flap was replaced with a sturdy but flexible strip of leather. Thracian likes to paint skulls on it sometimes.
rider information: Thracian Sabazios & without equipment
Thracian Sabazios. It means 'god of the underworld, usually depicted on funeral statues as a horseman slaying a beast with a spear; the nomadic horseman and sky father god of the Phrygians and Thracians - depicted always on horseback, as a nomadic horseman god, wielding his characteristic staff of power.'
ISTJ: introvert/sensing/thinking/judgement
Thracian is a pull-himself-up-by-his-bootstraps kind of person. He doesn't give up easily and thrives in situations that others would find discouraging. His greatest strength, is, of course, one of his weaknesses. He's cool in a crisis, calm in the storm, and collected amongst chaos. Even someone like him can run into trouble sometime.
form stuff: pictures do not belong to me, credit goes to their original owners, the quotes is a song by Avenged Sevenfold.
And, for those that are curious, here's his height on a scale compared to a six foot person:
