Post by midnight on Mar 22, 2006 1:56:20 GMT -4
Tagged: Midnight
Aged: 4 years
Blood: thoroughbred
Painted: bay
Made: Stallion
Defined: Kind, playful, smart
Past: unknown
Sample Post: The dark mahogany stag departed on the terra, russet orbs deep as pools searching it for any sign of life. His keen globes spotted no other horses near here, nore could he smell them. The terraine was lush and green, with a few scattered trees. Fulcrums moved in diagonal pairs as his swift two-beat brought him into the land, no sound betraying his presence. Hooves beat a pattern on the soft loam beneath, the only proof he had been there. Midnight's gait quickened to canter as he got to the bottom of the valley, and he tucked his crania neatly to his chest. The clear sweat that soaked his lithe form was now drying, sending him a chill. Harks pricked foreward at the sound of the energetic rushing of a small stream or creek. The gurgling noises pointed very obviously to where the creek was, and Midnight eagerly tore apart the distance. Lowering his pate, the brute dipped his coal-shaded maw to the rippling aqua, taking in huge gulps of the cold liquid. Once his thirst had been quinched, the brujo arched his boa and waded into the cool water. It soothed his aching muscles, lapping around his muscular flanks as he waded deeper. His wrapping was soon looking almost ebon because of the darkening affects of the water. He stepped out of the pool, walking over to a small tree. He lowered his dial to grasp at the emerald shoots springing out of the turf, enjoying their sweet flavore. The night was falling rapidly around Midnight, as though a dark curtain had been tossed carelessly over the world.
Aged: 4 years
Blood: thoroughbred
Painted: bay
Made: Stallion
Defined: Kind, playful, smart
Past: unknown
Sample Post: The dark mahogany stag departed on the terra, russet orbs deep as pools searching it for any sign of life. His keen globes spotted no other horses near here, nore could he smell them. The terraine was lush and green, with a few scattered trees. Fulcrums moved in diagonal pairs as his swift two-beat brought him into the land, no sound betraying his presence. Hooves beat a pattern on the soft loam beneath, the only proof he had been there. Midnight's gait quickened to canter as he got to the bottom of the valley, and he tucked his crania neatly to his chest. The clear sweat that soaked his lithe form was now drying, sending him a chill. Harks pricked foreward at the sound of the energetic rushing of a small stream or creek. The gurgling noises pointed very obviously to where the creek was, and Midnight eagerly tore apart the distance. Lowering his pate, the brute dipped his coal-shaded maw to the rippling aqua, taking in huge gulps of the cold liquid. Once his thirst had been quinched, the brujo arched his boa and waded into the cool water. It soothed his aching muscles, lapping around his muscular flanks as he waded deeper. His wrapping was soon looking almost ebon because of the darkening affects of the water. He stepped out of the pool, walking over to a small tree. He lowered his dial to grasp at the emerald shoots springing out of the turf, enjoying their sweet flavore. The night was falling rapidly around Midnight, as though a dark curtain had been tossed carelessly over the world.
And have fun!