[azhefa.]

Give me a good back story to win this boy!

Code: Select all

Username:
Name:
Age:
Gender: Stallion
Height: 24 hands
Personality: (at least 3 lines)
History: (at least a paragraph, more is better, best wins)

[ilhdc7]

Username: ilhdc7
Name: Charlie
Age: 8 years old
Gender: Stallion
Height: 24 hands
Personality: (at least 3 lines) Dark and deep. He likes to think. His mind is his last sanctuary. Mysterious. Charlie doesn't talk much, and tends to spend most of his life by himself. Brooding. He thinks things through. Even his words are carefully chosen.
History: (at least a paragraph, more is better, best wins)


A life of lies. Traps were playgrounds according to his mother, and guns sent to kill were magic wands. Basically, Charlie's parents wanted him to die. One day, Charlie just swam away from his abusive father. It was torture to leave his little sister, but he knew he had to go. The River was huge, and he just knew that out there, there was a place just meant for him. The place he found was small, but it was just right. A trail came down and a few herds would surely drink here. Up the river were some big rapids. his spot had lot of crocodiles, but Charlie defeated them all. On either side of him were two very strong herds, and lots of mares. Charlie figured he could persuade a mare to join him. The stallions promised not to bother him, and he wouldn't bother them. But that was also a lie. A dark and stormy night, the three massive stallions collided it a magnificent fight. Heads collided, tails whipped. Charlie knew they were teaming up against him, so he bowed his head, and swam away. The loss of his prime territory created a massive crack in Charlie's heart, and it swallowed him up. That's where he is now, wandering, and trying to find himself, and a mare.


(Got to say: I suck a writing!)

[Ninapepe5]

Username: Ninapepe5
Name: Demonio
Age: 2
Gender: Stallion
Height: 24 hands
Personality: Demonio prefers to swim in the muck of the river so that he can play tricks on the younger foals in the herd. Though he is one of the best fighters in the group and has won a couple mare fights he generally stays out of the ring that time of season. He enjoys playing with the youngsters but doesnt really socialize or nip at ony of the other ANs, though he has two ANs his age he usually goofs with.
History:
Demonio used to have a very strong and pround mother. She was the most fought over mare but even if she had many ' acquaintances ' though she never truly chose them. Then one day a young stallion joined the group and he was the most hansome stallion she had ever seen. Though at the time she belonged to a large whie stallion the new comer soon progressed in his fighting skills and took him down. Claiming her as his own. Then 11 months later Demonio was born. He was a very kind colt untill his father was taken down by another gruff stallion, but by then his mother was to old to be desirable to the stallions to have foals. filly and had many rounds of play with the other foals he was quite a normal standard romping colt. It was wnen he was 12 months, were he was caught by pocher and shot with a tranqualizer, but was conscious long enought to see the pochers slaughter half of his herd right befor his eyes. he was absolutely outraged but he was completely pinned down by his own numb body. Later when the tranqualizer started to ware off they tried to load him on a small boat wich jolted him awake and he was able to kill half the men and destroy the moter on the boat, sliding back into the water.

[Frostbite18]

Username: Frostbite18
Name: Diablo ( Often called The Dark One by others)
Age: 9 years
Gender: Stallion
Height: 24 hands
Personality: Diablo is truly a kind stallion at heart. After the darkness took him over he was nothing like himself. Cold, cruel and vicious, all traits that went against his true self. He is actually a real thinker, even with the darkness he still was smart, though his thoughts were darker. His true self is very smart and noble, always doing what is best for others and not himself.
History:
The second that Diablo's mother saw him she let out a scream of horror. Her new colt did not have her pale brown body or purple scales, nor his fathers buckskin pelt and blue scales. She though her foal was a demon, born to destroy the herds. She stamped on his poor little body and galloped away, hoping her stallion would just accept her lie of having had a stillbirth. The little colt was strong though and survived his wounds, luckily a little while later a lone mare appeared. She had been sent away from her herd for having a still born foal and was wandering the plains in sadness. Suddenly she scented the smell of a newborn foal. She found The colt and decided she couldn't let the poor thing die. She layed down and let him nurse, drying him off as she did so. She could clearly see hoof marks in his pelt and wondered what kind of mother would do such a thing. " How did you not die? You must have a very strong spirit" she nickered. The colt looked up with his deep red eyes but the mare did not see evil as his mother had. " Diablo, that will be your name. You will show them you true self" she whinnied softly.

Through the years

Diablo's adoptive mother eventually found a new herd and he had to leave her. He left and went to find his very own herd and family. Everywhere he went he was shunned and hated upon. He never even tried to steal mares from herds, he though it was cruel. Still anytime he passed by a herd the mares would shriek and the stallion would charge him. He would chased away by cries of, " He is a monster!", " A demon, make him pay!" And other horrible words. One day after six years of this brutal treatment he awoke to see many horses around him. " We will not let the demon walk among us any longer!" They cried. They beat Diablo until they thought he was dead but once again his strong heart would not give out. Diablo layer there for a week, nibbling at the grass about him and lucky enough to have ran water to drink. Diablo felt sick, he had done nothing and yet these horses judged him for his looks! He had had enough of this! Diablo felt something new coursing through him, it was rage. Diablo's kindness was swept away by his anger and sadness. He became a completely new horse, one intent on destroying all the Equids he could find.

When diablo was 8

Diablo was feared by almost very Equid across the land, he was known as the dark one or the bringer of death. He came into herds and slaughtered them all, leaving the foals alive so they could feel the pain of being alone. He carried on with this from the time he was six until he was eight, killing many Equids. One day he came across some lone mares, he began to chase them, his mind telling him only to kill. Suddenly he stopped, a mare was standing right in front of him. He reared and snorted, waiting eagerly to see the fear in her eyes, he was disappointed when he saw none. The grey mare simply reared back, her shining green scales gleaming in the sun. With how bright her scales were she must be a tough one. Diablo was confused, they always ran, they always screamed! The mare walked forth until her nose nearly touched his, " Do it then" she snorted. Diablo was confused now, did the mare want to die. " Dp you not remember me? I am Storm" she nickered gently. Diablo suddenly remembered.

Flashback to when Diablo was 4

Diablo had finally met a mare who didn't hate him, after two years of searching he had done it. He was waiting by the large baobab tree that they met at every four days. He saw her and resisted letting out a whinny of joy, they couldn't let her herd find out. Storm cantered over and the two of them twined necks lovingly, they had meeting in secret for nearly three months. " I am ready to go" she nickered, her brave eyes glimmering with joy. Diablo thought he might faint with happiness, for awhile now Storm had been planning to leave with him but she had wanted to wait for a day with good weather for their escape. It was supposed to storm tomorrow and even Storm's vicious and cold father would not follow them. Storm's father wanted her to go and find some strong handsome stallion to live with. Since she was his strongest filly he wanted his lines to only be carried in the strongest of lines. Sadly the next day when Diablo we to meet Storm's father who being older and Diablo not being vicious, beat Diablo up very badly. " Storm told me to come here and I could deal with you!" He cried as Diablo ran away.

Back to when Diablo is 8

Diablo's eyes filled with pain, " He said you sold me out, that you wanted me killed" he whinnied. Storm let out an angry squeal, " I did no such thing! That dumb father of mine had brought a strong stallion to meet me when I got back from the tree. They figured out that I had been meeting you from my scent and went to see the tree the next day. I ran away from that horrid stallion he gave me to the moment we where alone, strong but slow" she explained. Diablo shuddered as he felt mixed emotions, the darkness wanted to take over for him to continue killing blindly but as Diablo looked into Storms eyes he fought it. He stood there for awhile and finally felt the darkness slip away, he was free. His mind filled with all the Equids he had killed and all the foals he had orphaned. " I should die for what I have done" he cried. Storm gave him a surprise kick in the knew, " Snap out of it. You can be redeemed, even the worst of us can be" she whickered. So the two of them went on their way and with the help of Storm's brave and feisty heart Diablo has been slowly making amends with the other Equids. Perhaps one day he will even be accepted by them, but for now Storm's acceptance of his true self is enough.

( Hope it is not too late, I just saw that only two people entered) also sorry it is SO long, once I start writing I have a hard time stopping

[adelphi prime.]

Name: Hindsight
Age: 7 Years
Gender: Stallion
Height: 24 hands
Personality: He may seem like the dark type, dark and brooding, filled with an essence that made other horses stay away from him, but this isn't him. Not really. He kept to himself mostly, but that was only to escape his nightmare. Filled with a longing to be with his own kind yet to afraid to join them, he is indecisive. Though he has courage, he doesn't always use it. Though he has strength, he doesn't always know it. Though he has kindness, you can't always see it.
History: Eyes shifting under two gently curling horns, a huge African Nile looked in scorn at his son. The colt was nothing more than a few spindly legs attached to a skinny, small body. Even his son's tail was too thin. He snorted, black coat shimmering in the dark of the night. He looked to his mate, giving an embarrassed, angry neigh.

His mother raised her lips and whinnied, getting to her hooves and raising her neck. In her eyes was a fierce protectiveness, too strong to be quenched by her mate's threat. Her long tail flicked back and forth in short, angry strokes.

His father found this stance as a challenge and accepted it. Running forward, mouth open, eyes wild, he attacked her. The battle that followed was pointing to his mother's defeat. The colt shuddered as he heard his father's scream and saw his front hooves catch air, propelling him forward and at the black colt.

It was instinct that saved him. Raw instinct.

The colt got to his feet, and, though he was only a few hours old, galloped away as fast as his skinny legs could carry him. The colt just caught the startled look in both of his parents' eyes before hiding from both of them. As long as his father was there, he was a target.

Living on his own instinct, nothing more, he found a place to call home in the forest. A place where his nightmare father could never try to kill him. He settled down.
...

Growing up alone, Hindsight found himself a name and established his own small grazing ground. He had no feelings for mares, and choose to stay away from other horses. If any dared approach him, however, he would let them come. They were good horses, he could tell by their eyes, and wouldn't be like his murderous father.

Years passed and Hindsight grew stronger. His muscles were well toned, his dark brown coat shined in full health like his fathers, and his tail grew thick and long. The plates on his belly and tail took a red hue, making him look just as evil as his father had. Even his eyes took his father's. They were of a demon's; blood red, flecked with a near black and a flickering darkness overlapped his iris.

He became a nightmare to the other horses, and they quit coming to his grazing grounds. Alone more than ever, he found that, though he didn't want to stay in a herd, he needed company.

Every night, when the stars shined above, creating a net of light in the sky, he called for anyone to come. Anyone at all. In the day, when the dew on the grass collected at night evaporated and the trees' leaves turned the light a golden amber, he traveled, trying to find any of his own kind.

Again, years passed by and not a single soul revealed itself to him. He began to tire of his search, to give up, to lay down and hope never to awake again. It was his last night, he decided, to give his pointless whinnying up to the heavens, before he'd stop wandering and settle down alone.

Main flowing in the wind, he looked up at the sky and a single tear fell from his eye. He let himself give the most pitying winny of all sounds and fell against the ground, too alone to bare. He cried himself to sleep that night.

When he awoke, standing over him was an old mare of palomino coloring and deep brown eyes. He sniffed, getting to his hooves and looking at her. The mare gave a soft, caring snort and scrapped the ground with one hoof. With a shock, Hindsight walked forwards, towards her, pondering who she was. When he grew closer, her sent unfolded and he gave a shocked scream. It was his mother! He beat his hooves up into the air and neighed. He had found her! Wrapping his neck over her shoulder, he rubbed his head against her lovingly.

But his mother pushed him away. Her head was lowered and knees looking ready to buckle. It was then that Hindsight realized the truth. His mother was ill, ill to the point that death would come within hours.

He stayed with her for the time he could until one day, the very last day, she fell. Her eyes rolled back and her breathing stopped. Her body grew cold and her movements stilled. His mother's last breath held a regretful tint to it before her neck flopped to the side. Hindsight turned away, crying once more, and turned to the meadows and hills where his mother had told him they'd come from. There they'd accept him, he only hoped and prayed.