Post by strike me down on May 18, 2009 7:38:18 GMT -5
STRIKE ME DOWN
[/color][/font]"be a dream that life forgot"[/color][/font]
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"the registration papers."
REGISTERED NAME strike me down
BARN NAME bubbles
AGE rising two
DATE OF BIRTH 08/08/07
SIRE sakhee
DAM sunstrike
DAMSIRE rock of gibraltar
COLOR chestnut
MARKINGS none
HEIGHT mature approx. 15h
WEIGHT 350-400kg
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"some say it's what's on the inside that counts."
LIKES playing with water,
DISLIKES other horses, taller people, loose reins, standing still, hard ground
HABITS/QUIRKS constantly chews on covers, floods his box regularly and spooks at every haunted hedge and possessed post in sight. also lacks the capacity to stand still for longer than .002 of a second.
FEARS wind, "deep" puddles, shifting hedges, whips [more specifically the movement of the whip from behind him], the occasional stick lying innocently on the ground.
FULL PERSONALITY while he seems like a dominant sort of horse, bubbles is really quite dependent on others. he despises having no command or direction to follow, though he often contradicts orders given to him. he can be a bully at times, though most mistake him for a filly due to his light frame, and he shows an unexplained prejudice to taller people [can anyone say iwanttoeatyourface, mr. rich owner]. bubbles is definitely a horse that cannot be ridden on a loose rein. one, he's quite spooky and two, he often panics and rushes forward looking for the bit.[/color][/font]
"it's time to meet the puppeteer."
YOUR NAME sapphire, or saphy
YEARS OF EXPERIENCE around four
CONTACT INFO pm
SECRET PHRASE ADMIN EDIT.
MEMBER TITLE none
ANYTHING ELSE nopers
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE
ROMAN was the faster, quite obviously, and there was no doubt about his intentions, but as soon as he heard hooves behind him, the shod hooves of tame horses, the rough little stallion stopped. It was an awkward movement, Roman practically sitting down before he managed to stop - yet at the same time, he was trying to turn and face his pursuers. While he never chased them, men or colts, far, he was dissatisfied with the distance - they were all much too close to his mares. Finally standing square, having kicked up a significant amount of loose dirt, Roman eyed Jake and Casey with distaste. It was confusing, really - there were only three foals at the moment, and it was much too early, yet they seemed to be taking his mares. He was only still for a moment, though there was no warning when he took off, galloping between the men, straight back to his mares. As he passed between them, Roman bucked to the left, a habit of his - he would never kick to the right after once kicking a tree that had left its permanent mark on his flank - and pushed his shoulder towards the mare of the right. Both motions failed spectacularly, though to Roman's credit he wasn't exactly intent on killing them, his only goal to get away from them. As he ran, his ears flicked forward, head rising as he replied to a neigh from one of the mares.
SNAPPING at the mares, pacing back and forth behind them, dodging the occasional kick, Roman finally got his sluggish herd to move - though most were only at a slow canter. Even his favorite, Kinta, a tall dun that towered over Roman, ignored his commands to move faster. As it was, they hadn't moved far when Roman relented, though he still kept them close. It was quite obvious the mares weren't happy about it, milling about in a tight group as Roman trotted back and forth, watching Jake and Casey. He was in a right state, breathing heavily and shining black in the bright sunlight, white foam just starting to build up on his seal bay coat. But still he kept moving, not allowing the mares to do the same. Halting, Roman swung his hindquarters around and leaped into the air, stepping backwards to keep his balance. But balance wasn't his only concern. Kinta, having decided she'd had enough, snapped at a mare that came too close before kicking viciously at Roman, her solid hooves squarely impacting Roman's thigh.
THERE was only one result of a forceful kick like that, and it was confirmed in the heavy thump, somewhat muffled by the spring grass, of the stallion hitting the ground. He was on his feet almost instantly, a habit quickly learned by all mustangs, but there was no doubt that it hurt. Shaking, though it didn't remove much of the dust stuck to his sweaty coat, Roman set about regaining control of the mares, though he was not so determined this time. The men seemed to have backed off, acting more like Roman was used to at this time of year. He was far from settled, switching from a fast-moving watch over the herd to glaring across the uneven ground at Jake and Casey, but there was nothing more he could do - with mares that wouldn't run and a slowly swelling stifle.
SNAPPING at the mares, pacing back and forth behind them, dodging the occasional kick, Roman finally got his sluggish herd to move - though most were only at a slow canter. Even his favorite, Kinta, a tall dun that towered over Roman, ignored his commands to move faster. As it was, they hadn't moved far when Roman relented, though he still kept them close. It was quite obvious the mares weren't happy about it, milling about in a tight group as Roman trotted back and forth, watching Jake and Casey. He was in a right state, breathing heavily and shining black in the bright sunlight, white foam just starting to build up on his seal bay coat. But still he kept moving, not allowing the mares to do the same. Halting, Roman swung his hindquarters around and leaped into the air, stepping backwards to keep his balance. But balance wasn't his only concern. Kinta, having decided she'd had enough, snapped at a mare that came too close before kicking viciously at Roman, her solid hooves squarely impacting Roman's thigh.
THERE was only one result of a forceful kick like that, and it was confirmed in the heavy thump, somewhat muffled by the spring grass, of the stallion hitting the ground. He was on his feet almost instantly, a habit quickly learned by all mustangs, but there was no doubt that it hurt. Shaking, though it didn't remove much of the dust stuck to his sweaty coat, Roman set about regaining control of the mares, though he was not so determined this time. The men seemed to have backed off, acting more like Roman was used to at this time of year. He was far from settled, switching from a fast-moving watch over the herd to glaring across the uneven ground at Jake and Casey, but there was nothing more he could do - with mares that wouldn't run and a slowly swelling stifle.
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