Posted by Vashta Nerada on December 23, 2008, 2:22 am
69.0.90.158
Name - Vashta Nerada
Age - 4 years
Breed - Morgan
Gender - Mare
Personal Strength - Intelligence
Personal Weakness - Temper
Minor Objective - To reach Scout level
Super Objective - To get to the rank of Riddler in the herd
Kingdom Preference - Ni'Srilan
Intended Class - Espionage
Sample Post* -
Rosey watched cautiously as he came towards her, knowing this was it… the end of her freedom. Her senses tingled, taking it all in. Morbid sense of humor? Black. Such a fitting color for him to come shrouded in. He may as well have been the grim reaper to her slender figure, her short childhood now over. Her eyes follow him compulsively. Power. If there was one thing she respected it was power. Not that he was a lead stallion or anything… but if he had enough power to claim her she still must respect him. It wasn’t that she wanted to bow to the wills of others, it was just that she did not feel as if fighting tooth and nail would save her sorry hide, indeed, it would just injure it. Damn the broken spirit that lies beneath her docile coat.
He called himself a parasite. What more could she expect? After all although he was second or so in command, he was also living on another stallion’s property, maybe never to bear children of his own. Though she may be a peace of trash, she was also more valuable alive, of good monetary value. What was the transaction rate between Euro and mare? To Stallions there could be no transaction there. What would horses do with money? He spoke in funny little rhymes that meant, to her, little more than hopeless babble. Though pretty babble it was.
She nods subdued at his words “Shall we go then?” Why ask a mare? She knew she was cursed with no choice. It was ironic, the irony of someone talking to an inanimate object almost. The irony of little kids singing of the black plague and never realizing… Talking about a plague that killed about 1/3 of the human population. Ah well. Now it is a fixture, and the kids circle up and sing “Ring around the rosey, a pocketful of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down!” Not knowing that the falling down at the end is death. The last phrase should read “we all fall down dead.” but it doesn’t.
A morbid mind twists and turns between her chocolate brown eyes, and her shroud of black follows her everywhere, though she is bathed a shiny pearl. The black lies lurking beneath the surface. But one will find that out soon enough. Not seeing reason to speak she simply picks up her hooves and heads off across, following Axel, towards Assault’s territory, the home of her new oppressor and defeater. May he ever be happy with her and leave her in tranquility and peace. Yeah… right. Doubtful, true, but still… what if she was left to her own, dark, brooding self?
Alias - Peppermint
AIM - carietal
"the shadows that melt the flesh"
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