Post by Beguile on Dec 6, 2006 16:01:06 GMT -5
Name Beguile
Nickname Beguile (same)
Breed of the Thoroughbred lines
Gender i am born as a masculine
Age of 5 winters
Color of fiery hues (chestnut)
height i fly at 16.3hh
Type of average
Image perhaps coming
Example Post
It was the time of night that the image of purgatory was found to be wandering for days at a time, starving, beaten and left to die. His pillars traveled across many a ground from that time. On he went until he came to a stretch of land that called his name, as if a dream. His auds reached forth on pinprick, hoping with his might that he may again hear the sounds of a living, an actual equine of truth. Amber pools looked forth to see what might be beyond and forth. Through the fog stepped another equine. Not knowing of how to think now that he had been away from life for so long, he jumped back, his visages barely being able to hold his taunt bod. With hope his nape stretched to a point where he could see the figure slightly through the mist. "Lo." His vocals carried like harp strings through the empty air. Oh, how long it had been since he had spoken. At the beginning of his journey he would speak to himself often, hoping to stay sane. But eventually that had worn away and he had just stopped speaking to himself like a madman, and he left himself to his fate of solitude. The figure stood before him, unmoving. Sweat seeped through his hide, anticipation keeping him still. If this was the way for it to be, it shall.
Nickname Beguile (same)
Breed of the Thoroughbred lines
Gender i am born as a masculine
Age of 5 winters
Color of fiery hues (chestnut)
height i fly at 16.3hh
Type of average
Image perhaps coming
Example Post
It was the time of night that the image of purgatory was found to be wandering for days at a time, starving, beaten and left to die. His pillars traveled across many a ground from that time. On he went until he came to a stretch of land that called his name, as if a dream. His auds reached forth on pinprick, hoping with his might that he may again hear the sounds of a living, an actual equine of truth. Amber pools looked forth to see what might be beyond and forth. Through the fog stepped another equine. Not knowing of how to think now that he had been away from life for so long, he jumped back, his visages barely being able to hold his taunt bod. With hope his nape stretched to a point where he could see the figure slightly through the mist. "Lo." His vocals carried like harp strings through the empty air. Oh, how long it had been since he had spoken. At the beginning of his journey he would speak to himself often, hoping to stay sane. But eventually that had worn away and he had just stopped speaking to himself like a madman, and he left himself to his fate of solitude. The figure stood before him, unmoving. Sweat seeped through his hide, anticipation keeping him still. If this was the way for it to be, it shall.
