Post by Ren on Dec 21, 2011 22:20:09 GMT -5
Name: Marrok
Age: seven
Breed: Andalusian
Gender: 16.2 hh
Region: Osiris
Appearance: Marrok is a very muscular horse with a great presence and beautify that always leaves you breathless. His neck is heavy, thick with a well-developed crest. Long flowing, silken mane and tail is of a stunning white that flows perfectly along his grayish-white coat. His head-carriage is regal and high with forehead wide and expressive, medium length ears set alert. One of the most trusting features about Marrok is his eyes; they are dark-brown, gentle and warm, always trusting. Every thing about Marrok’s appearance sets others at ease, making them feel he is every bit the knight in shinning armor. His nostrils are flared; jaw is large and well-muscled giving him a noble disposition. A blackish-gray coloration captured around his muzzle helps to make the nostrils not so large looking. Marrok has always had perfectly rounded withers and his shoulders slope with the roll of muscles. His chest is board, a few scars can be seen, and he wears them proudly. The body is rounded and short-coupled, adding to his over all strength. He is and will always be the picture perfect vision of all that is good, a true wolf in sheep’s clothing. His large white wings spanning twice the length of his body are able to lift him high in the air.
Personality: Marrok is a conglomeration of a thousand different traits, thrown together, each fighting for dominance over the others. He's a loose canon, but boy does it suit him. His true persona has been lost over the years, replaced with a mixture of all the people he has pretended to be to further his own existence and standing. A cunning brute, he is the master of disguise, and can be whomever suits him best for what ever task, though this has come at a price. He wanders now without his own sense of self-priority, lost long ago when he was forced to fake his entire life, and most importantly, his deepest desire: pain. It drives him like nothing else ever has, can, or will. Despite his age, he stills craves it much the same as the day he was made to be the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Perhaps addicted to the rush as he attacks, or perhaps just addicted to the kill. There is nothing Marrok loves more than to hear the heart of his victim falling into that terrible rhythm, slow and labored. It is his music of choice.
Oh, yes, he is sadistic. Cruel, sardonic, downright evil. He has embraced everything about his life, thriving in the freedom it brings him. He does not, it would seem, take note of the chains his bloodlust wraps around him. Marrok is a prisoner to his own madness; caught, possessed by the aspect of his animalistic nature. Far too ruthless, far too unforgiving; he sought the world like it were a new found tryst. One that he'd abuse at whim, to any ends of oblivion. The cannibal king finds that in every fleeting, desperate breathe, there was beauty in torture. Animosity was always the little niche that seemed to work it's way into every dauntless step this white devil took.
Marrok is a creature wild and untamed. Though he spent many a year convincing those around him that his upbringing had taught him the importance of maintaining dignity and reputation through eloquent speech and genteel actions, it was, of course, a lie. He will often slip his collar and embody the very soul of an animal. A wolf in a sheepskin. A lion amongst lambs. When displeased, he will roar and slash out at those who have wronged him. When satisfied, he will purr in utter contentment. He cannot be underestimated for he is as unpredictable as the wind, gentle one moment and the next, a tumultuous storm bent on destruction.
There was something so endlessly endearing about the art of destruction, the demise of a mortal being; in all it's crunch and savagery. There was no less a mercy then a vengeful god when he touched to break his desires. With an acute precision, he dismembered without a notion or conscience. His opponent's faces, he can never take his eyes off them. Violence was welcoming, it was the knife to which he cut. it was his forever lover, mother, his Venus. The pale Brucephalus, the ever stone soul, bound by the art of torture and gore. A sadist, with a few masochistic fetishes, which believes in the technique of ruin; livid in the twist, in the choke of torment.
At the heart of his beats a conviction of steel. Once something is set in his mind, he pursues it relentlessly with a lust that drives all other matters into the shade. He is goal oriented and remains steadfast to that goal once he puts his mind to it. It would take the shattering of the world to gain his notice away from what he desires and even then it is very possible he would ignore the apocalypse entirely. This applies not only to his goals in life, but to small things, like his prey.
On the subject of prey, he loves to play with his victims. Torturing them, pushing their boundaries, inflicting hope until they beg for release, then inflicting pain until they beg for death. Cruel, unnecessary, but Marrok’s way regardless of the opinions of others. He is not governed by the morals which, in his opinion, plague other horses. Most will, to his knowledge, not attack a yearling or foal. Marrok does not distinguish between adult and foal. He has never once felt guilt or shame for his actions, and after nearly two years of being a cold blooded killer, it's highly doubtful he'll get a sudden pang of conscience anytime soon.
Power: Air manipulator/elemental
History: The anomaly of a mare giving birth to two foals (twins) is a rarity in deeded. However, Levana did just that on an early morning when the sun was just peeking over the horizon. The nervousness she felt before birth was but a habit laced with fear. Years of being forced under the herds hooves had a way of making a mare a little leery. You see her mate Abraxas loved her, oddly enough but love just the same and when she was to give birth to a foal, he and his mate fled their land and their Kind and Lord to take refuge with the Rebellion. Their adventure and flight had only been a few months before Levana was to give birth so as you can see the fear had not yet left. Her mate stood guard, waiting carefully for anything that might harm her and disturb this wonderful morning. The day was defiantly joyous; she not only gifted her mate with one son but two, both strong and robust colts but twins they were not.
Have you ever head the saying ‘when the stars align’ well the stars forged together in one brilliant display of beauty the moment Marrok was born. The gathered mares and stallions waiting in reckless excitement for the birth of new foals, a timeless tradition that promised hope to a herd. A chance to forge on, gathering strength in knowing their numbers were growing, thanks to the gods. However, when Marrok was born a cluster of gasps could be heard, he was beautiful, so much so that one mare had called out in thanks to the gods. While his brother was born first and was the first to stand it was Marrok that won their attention and heart.
Through out the years the two display a strong rivalry, at first it was on mock fighting, both could not win seeing as how they were so evenly matched. You see, while Marrok’s brother was stronger and larger then Marrok, it was clear where he lacked in brute strength he made up for in adaptability and wit. Marrok had a knack for thinking at least three moves ahead. Time and time again the two brothers fought for their chance to shine, for their herds favor and time and time again it was Marrok’s brother that won even if by a hair. This was because his brother was first born and yes Marrok resented his brother, hated him for being the first.
In their first year his brother started to take a shine for a filly, she was pretty, perfect body shape, a born leader of other mares and displayed a sense of independence that both thrilled and annoyed him. What was worse was that she seemed to enjoy his brothers attention. While Marrok had not real interest in the pretty filly he could not stop the feeling of jealousy that washed over him like a tidal wave. For months he tried his best to curb his distain until he could not take it anymore and his temper got the best of him. That was when he met Nightmare. The brute happened to find Marrok stomping on a buck, keeping it alive so that he could take out his frustration on something that would feel the pain. Yes he was slightly twisted but this beast in his was something he could not lock up. Nightmare talked to him for a while, Marrok was respectful and in fact was a little in awe of the brute but he did not join the stallions heard when asked.
A year or so had passed, his distain and rivalry with his brother grew into something ugly and brutal. Both fighting, his brother doing his best to make Marrok look the fool. His mothers love given to his brother, his herd carried his brother on their shoulders like a king. He hated them all, but mostly he hated his brother. It should be Marrok they loved, why could they not love him too? Their love was fake, he knew it. So without thinking he ventured onto the bachelors lands, spoke to a stallion, offering loyalty in exchange for his help. The stallion agreed and the two set off to hurt his brother in the worse possible way.
Another five months later Marrok asked his brothers mate to take a walk with him, that he wished to talk about a mare. She was delighted that he finally found someone that sparked his interest and was more then happy to talk with him. The two walked, she mindlessly followed where ever Marrok took her, too worked up in her excitement to see that they where nearing the edge of their lands. In the shadows the other stallion waited, Marrok nodded and chuckled at what she said and then the moment they stopped she looked around. Telling him they needed to go back, this was dangerous and that both of them were to excited to see where they were going. Just when she turned and started into a natural trot Marrok charged hitting her in the side and knocked her over, sending her to the ground. Shocked and foolish she asked if he was ok. That was when the other stallion came out and the two beat her to death.
Marrok wanted to wait for his brother to come, made sure his mate screamed while he toyed with her, when he did the shock and horror on his face was what made Marrok laugh that wicked laugh. A few choice words was offered and in a slow turn Nightmare and Marrok walked off. Both did not seem to fear Marrok’s brother and in fact Marrok wanted his brother to come after him, to challenge him. The stupid colt was to stunned to do anything more then look at his mate taking her last breath.
Age: seven
Breed: Andalusian
Gender: 16.2 hh
Region: Osiris
Appearance: Marrok is a very muscular horse with a great presence and beautify that always leaves you breathless. His neck is heavy, thick with a well-developed crest. Long flowing, silken mane and tail is of a stunning white that flows perfectly along his grayish-white coat. His head-carriage is regal and high with forehead wide and expressive, medium length ears set alert. One of the most trusting features about Marrok is his eyes; they are dark-brown, gentle and warm, always trusting. Every thing about Marrok’s appearance sets others at ease, making them feel he is every bit the knight in shinning armor. His nostrils are flared; jaw is large and well-muscled giving him a noble disposition. A blackish-gray coloration captured around his muzzle helps to make the nostrils not so large looking. Marrok has always had perfectly rounded withers and his shoulders slope with the roll of muscles. His chest is board, a few scars can be seen, and he wears them proudly. The body is rounded and short-coupled, adding to his over all strength. He is and will always be the picture perfect vision of all that is good, a true wolf in sheep’s clothing. His large white wings spanning twice the length of his body are able to lift him high in the air.
Personality: Marrok is a conglomeration of a thousand different traits, thrown together, each fighting for dominance over the others. He's a loose canon, but boy does it suit him. His true persona has been lost over the years, replaced with a mixture of all the people he has pretended to be to further his own existence and standing. A cunning brute, he is the master of disguise, and can be whomever suits him best for what ever task, though this has come at a price. He wanders now without his own sense of self-priority, lost long ago when he was forced to fake his entire life, and most importantly, his deepest desire: pain. It drives him like nothing else ever has, can, or will. Despite his age, he stills craves it much the same as the day he was made to be the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Perhaps addicted to the rush as he attacks, or perhaps just addicted to the kill. There is nothing Marrok loves more than to hear the heart of his victim falling into that terrible rhythm, slow and labored. It is his music of choice.
Oh, yes, he is sadistic. Cruel, sardonic, downright evil. He has embraced everything about his life, thriving in the freedom it brings him. He does not, it would seem, take note of the chains his bloodlust wraps around him. Marrok is a prisoner to his own madness; caught, possessed by the aspect of his animalistic nature. Far too ruthless, far too unforgiving; he sought the world like it were a new found tryst. One that he'd abuse at whim, to any ends of oblivion. The cannibal king finds that in every fleeting, desperate breathe, there was beauty in torture. Animosity was always the little niche that seemed to work it's way into every dauntless step this white devil took.
Marrok is a creature wild and untamed. Though he spent many a year convincing those around him that his upbringing had taught him the importance of maintaining dignity and reputation through eloquent speech and genteel actions, it was, of course, a lie. He will often slip his collar and embody the very soul of an animal. A wolf in a sheepskin. A lion amongst lambs. When displeased, he will roar and slash out at those who have wronged him. When satisfied, he will purr in utter contentment. He cannot be underestimated for he is as unpredictable as the wind, gentle one moment and the next, a tumultuous storm bent on destruction.
There was something so endlessly endearing about the art of destruction, the demise of a mortal being; in all it's crunch and savagery. There was no less a mercy then a vengeful god when he touched to break his desires. With an acute precision, he dismembered without a notion or conscience. His opponent's faces, he can never take his eyes off them. Violence was welcoming, it was the knife to which he cut. it was his forever lover, mother, his Venus. The pale Brucephalus, the ever stone soul, bound by the art of torture and gore. A sadist, with a few masochistic fetishes, which believes in the technique of ruin; livid in the twist, in the choke of torment.
At the heart of his beats a conviction of steel. Once something is set in his mind, he pursues it relentlessly with a lust that drives all other matters into the shade. He is goal oriented and remains steadfast to that goal once he puts his mind to it. It would take the shattering of the world to gain his notice away from what he desires and even then it is very possible he would ignore the apocalypse entirely. This applies not only to his goals in life, but to small things, like his prey.
On the subject of prey, he loves to play with his victims. Torturing them, pushing their boundaries, inflicting hope until they beg for release, then inflicting pain until they beg for death. Cruel, unnecessary, but Marrok’s way regardless of the opinions of others. He is not governed by the morals which, in his opinion, plague other horses. Most will, to his knowledge, not attack a yearling or foal. Marrok does not distinguish between adult and foal. He has never once felt guilt or shame for his actions, and after nearly two years of being a cold blooded killer, it's highly doubtful he'll get a sudden pang of conscience anytime soon.
Power: Air manipulator/elemental
History: The anomaly of a mare giving birth to two foals (twins) is a rarity in deeded. However, Levana did just that on an early morning when the sun was just peeking over the horizon. The nervousness she felt before birth was but a habit laced with fear. Years of being forced under the herds hooves had a way of making a mare a little leery. You see her mate Abraxas loved her, oddly enough but love just the same and when she was to give birth to a foal, he and his mate fled their land and their Kind and Lord to take refuge with the Rebellion. Their adventure and flight had only been a few months before Levana was to give birth so as you can see the fear had not yet left. Her mate stood guard, waiting carefully for anything that might harm her and disturb this wonderful morning. The day was defiantly joyous; she not only gifted her mate with one son but two, both strong and robust colts but twins they were not.
Have you ever head the saying ‘when the stars align’ well the stars forged together in one brilliant display of beauty the moment Marrok was born. The gathered mares and stallions waiting in reckless excitement for the birth of new foals, a timeless tradition that promised hope to a herd. A chance to forge on, gathering strength in knowing their numbers were growing, thanks to the gods. However, when Marrok was born a cluster of gasps could be heard, he was beautiful, so much so that one mare had called out in thanks to the gods. While his brother was born first and was the first to stand it was Marrok that won their attention and heart.
Through out the years the two display a strong rivalry, at first it was on mock fighting, both could not win seeing as how they were so evenly matched. You see, while Marrok’s brother was stronger and larger then Marrok, it was clear where he lacked in brute strength he made up for in adaptability and wit. Marrok had a knack for thinking at least three moves ahead. Time and time again the two brothers fought for their chance to shine, for their herds favor and time and time again it was Marrok’s brother that won even if by a hair. This was because his brother was first born and yes Marrok resented his brother, hated him for being the first.
In their first year his brother started to take a shine for a filly, she was pretty, perfect body shape, a born leader of other mares and displayed a sense of independence that both thrilled and annoyed him. What was worse was that she seemed to enjoy his brothers attention. While Marrok had not real interest in the pretty filly he could not stop the feeling of jealousy that washed over him like a tidal wave. For months he tried his best to curb his distain until he could not take it anymore and his temper got the best of him. That was when he met Nightmare. The brute happened to find Marrok stomping on a buck, keeping it alive so that he could take out his frustration on something that would feel the pain. Yes he was slightly twisted but this beast in his was something he could not lock up. Nightmare talked to him for a while, Marrok was respectful and in fact was a little in awe of the brute but he did not join the stallions heard when asked.
A year or so had passed, his distain and rivalry with his brother grew into something ugly and brutal. Both fighting, his brother doing his best to make Marrok look the fool. His mothers love given to his brother, his herd carried his brother on their shoulders like a king. He hated them all, but mostly he hated his brother. It should be Marrok they loved, why could they not love him too? Their love was fake, he knew it. So without thinking he ventured onto the bachelors lands, spoke to a stallion, offering loyalty in exchange for his help. The stallion agreed and the two set off to hurt his brother in the worse possible way.
Another five months later Marrok asked his brothers mate to take a walk with him, that he wished to talk about a mare. She was delighted that he finally found someone that sparked his interest and was more then happy to talk with him. The two walked, she mindlessly followed where ever Marrok took her, too worked up in her excitement to see that they where nearing the edge of their lands. In the shadows the other stallion waited, Marrok nodded and chuckled at what she said and then the moment they stopped she looked around. Telling him they needed to go back, this was dangerous and that both of them were to excited to see where they were going. Just when she turned and started into a natural trot Marrok charged hitting her in the side and knocked her over, sending her to the ground. Shocked and foolish she asked if he was ok. That was when the other stallion came out and the two beat her to death.
Marrok wanted to wait for his brother to come, made sure his mate screamed while he toyed with her, when he did the shock and horror on his face was what made Marrok laugh that wicked laugh. A few choice words was offered and in a slow turn Nightmare and Marrok walked off. Both did not seem to fear Marrok’s brother and in fact Marrok wanted his brother to come after him, to challenge him. The stupid colt was to stunned to do anything more then look at his mate taking her last breath.
