. Begin Your Journey .: --Glory is fleeting but obscurity is forever.

Name: Andvári
Age: Uhm, very old.
Breed: Draft mutt
Gender: Male, I think.
Strength: He has none, I think. Unless you count indifference.
Weakness: Too many to mention.
Minor Objective: Speak to another horse.
Super Objective: Get a friend.
Harem Preference: Toss him where you want.
Intended Class: I think he'll be one of those sneaky fellas.
Sample Post:

He crawls over the hill with great effort – like king Sisyphus, and there is nothing limber or fluent in his motions. He limps; the creature’s feet seemingly to small and insignificant to uphold his body. Old bones gnash against each other with an eerie sound. The creature is tired- gasping breath and sloping shoulders; yet he staggers on. But there is nothing determined about his steps; no goal to justify his long journey and his face reveals little more than infinite apathy.

He is a monster; archaic and hollow-eyed. Moth-haired and maggot-skinned. His skin; scarred and paper-thin hangs in scraps, barely covering bony hips and gaunt ribs.
There is no absolute reason why he has come; perhaps a fleeting memory; stealing and obscure has lead him here; mayhap it was something else. These memories; or fragments of such things, was all that the creature possessed aside his flesh. His eyes spoke not of dreams or hopes or ideals. All he had; was a volatile sensation that life; he; had not always been this way. He was not always a cadaver; upholstered by some inexplicable conundrum. He had hated it; at first. He could remember as much; limbs turning mechanical and his head; nothing but viscous darkness. And then he embraced it; found solace in the hollow; buried a thousand bitter thoughts and dreams in the arms of lassitude. Altered into something so terrifying he was spurned by his own kin.

So he had fled, although fled is to strong a word for the creature. Monsters do not flee; they simply abstract from the world. He had lurked; in the shadows; although they had not venerated him as they had other shadowed beings. He was to corporeal; to distinct to ever be fondled by shadows and crafts. He had feared he might break; and simply fall apart; like the machine he was; but he did not. Fueled by what; he did not know.
So he walked; from place to place, sulking in the shadows. He had long since lost the ability to communicate with those around him. And he no longer cared; he did not seek solitude; but it sought him, and so he succumbed to the will of something greater; more eminent than the insignificance that was him.
He doesn’t know why he has come here. He doesn’t care. All he knows; and all he needs to know is that something; perhaps a wind; whom has torn the ribbons of scent from some familiar being, taunting old nostrils and stirring perished hearts, has brought him here.
And so here he is; halting atop the hill; taking in the scenery that emerges before him through two lifeless; bloodshot eyes.

He comes in the wake of dawn; and whether this is intentional or coincidence no-one can tell. But in the dim sunlight the creature is even more repellent than usual. The burrs have clung to his hair; and the nettles to his skin in a fond embrace; for only they can covet such creatures. His skin; sickly pale and diaphanous only clings to his body with sheer luck; a particularly fierce gust of wind may strip it apart. The creature looks emaciated; and the flies adhere to his side, lured by the viperous odor emanating from every cord of his body.
He sniffs the air; wolfishly; and then he stands; silently- watching, waiting. Although of what, he is not sure.

OOC: Im Sanna.