Post by Narmer on Feb 19, 2012 5:16:10 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #313838;,true][cs=2] N a r m e r Pharaoh of stone |
[atrb=width,480] Age: 7 Species: Equine Breed: Egyptian Arabian Height: 15hh Color: Slate Grey Markings: None Pharaoh Of Stone …::::A P P E A R A N C E::::… His body is that of a classic Egyptian Arabian but slightly more sturdy and muscled in an average sort of way. Though he is certainly no body builder, Narmer’s body is well defined in a way that indicates a need for work, but not obsession. He is not vain and therefore he does not shine but is, instead, a matte color akin to stone. His mane and tail reach his shoulders and are grey mixed with white highlights. His eyes are a deep brown that hold no specks of gold. His body would be unassuming, even somewhat plain, but he has the high bearing of his blood and a presence of knowledge that make him obvious amongst a crowd. Like a matte black sports car he shows up, matter-of-fact and clean, simply by lacking a natural sheen. Upon a meeting, Narmer appears slightly out of place, like a rock that walks. His hide is naturally shiny but, due to his work, the minerals and stone dust cling to his hide. Occasionally an item he is working on will be weaved into his mane for safekeeping. Finished items may also be stored here if they are not in his safe made of stone in the territory where he finally decides to reside. …::::P E R S O N A L I T Y::::… Artistic, knowledgeable, and matter-of-fact are the words to best sum up the Rock. When speaking to others he is an honest businessstud, he does not lie or beat around the bush when speaking on a product or his skills for he doesn’t have to. He has a kind of quiet assurance that is hard to come by in the world of stallions. He knows he attains an average sort of attraction, that he has a slightly above average intelligence, and he knows that his skill with creating things from stone is exquisite. All of these things are facts to Narmer and as such they need not be mentioned more than they ought to be mentioned. He holds no particular opinion on racism but he doesn’t oppose it either. His main concern is his art of stone working first, then the horses whom he trades his art for and whom he has made friends with, and lastly the politics of the herd. He is steadfast, loyal, and honest. This only downfall is that he refuses to get close to a mare ever again after what happened to his greatest love. Sadness cloaks him when he is alone. Example: Somewhat of a fine craftsman cowboy and your average modern guy. …:::H I S T O R Y::::… Narmer was born in Egypt, the land of the Nile. He was a master craftshorse there, servant only to Pharaoh, and respected by many. He built pyramids for high officials, made jewelry for their mares, and did many other things. One day his eyes set upon a glorious figure, gleaming white and covered in his creations. She was shy, unknowing of her beauty, and incredibly untouchable. He inquired to the mare of her name and found it was Amarna, Fifth wife to Pharaoh. She had been traded by her sire as a yearling in order to gain status. Her heritage was a nearly perfect connection to the gods and, yet, as Fifth wife she had never even been with her stallion and was now 3 Cycles the Nile of age. He was 5cycles at the time, had never mounted a mare himself, and with one conversation he swayed the precious Amarna. The two traveled down to the papyrus reeds of the Nile where, under her ever vigilant gaze they both finally gave in to the earthly pleasures from which they had been, for various reasons, denied. He was joyous for a time after that, they kept meeting almost nightly, sometimes indulging and others merely talking. The rest of the Nile Cycle the two lovers continued with their midnight trysts. Amarna’s happiness grew, as did her beauty, and as such she gained the attention of her promised mate, Pharaoh. The start of the Cycle of her fourth year, when she could conceive, and a year after the lovers had initiated their passion, Pharaoh entered her chamber. Though she refused he had guards hold her down with magic, and he forced himself upon her for half the night before he grew weary, and ceased. He spoke softly in her ear that night, he spoke sweet, false words of love. He asked if she was glad he had finally consummated their mate-ship and told her that she must produce a foal this year, for he needed colts. Depressed, wracked with hate and pain, Amarna had come to him two days later. She had healed and could walk. She begged him to run away with her after relating her story, she said she would not be able to submit to a stud she did not love. He had refused. Refused, when his love had begged him to listen. Narmer was vain back then and could not stand the thought of giving up his life, his success, for leaving and rebuilding all he had done somewhere else. The mare screamed at him, yelled even, but he could not be swayed. Then she begged him for a foal. She said if the foal came out grey it would be a testament to her dam’s grey heritage. Nohorse would ever know and they could at least have a happy secret life together. He had known better when he accepted, but he loved her so much, wanted what she promised so much, that he did it anyways. A week later, when her time to conceive was up Pharaoh returned with physicians to check her health and see if she was with foal. He was delighted when he found that she was, after only the singular customary night of breeding. Narmar worried as Amarna’s belly grew. His work suffered and became worse and worse. It was only thanks to Amarna’s swollen and heavy belly that Pharaoh stayed distracted enough to ignore his shortcomings, or so he assumed. The night Amarna began birthing was Narmer’s last in Egypt. Pharaoh was present at the birth, was overjoyed when the foal was born. But as the sac was wiped away he did not see the light grey form and white hairs of his lineage, but the exact coloring of his First Official. Amarna was oblivious to his rage as she lay licking her new foal clean, right up until the end. With a screech the enraged leader of Egypt boar down upon the mother and foal and beat them until they were nothing but pulp, his white coat stained red. A loyal servant informed Narmer as soon as the event occurred. Though the sudden wave of pain the crushed him, Narmer heard his servant’s voice, took heed, and fled that night. He galloped for hours before stopping and seeking rest in the reeds of the Nile. It was there he watched countless soldiers run past him, then back, and it was there he heard housemares speaking of Pharaoh’s rage at his absence. They spoke of the king turning their precious Nile red with the blood of countless innocent horses, all over a pretty mare. He had choked back a bark of pain and anger when he heard those words. A pretty mare? A PRETTY MARE? She was much more than that, she was brilliant, kind, wonderful. She had born him a colt. All that he had lived for was gone. He was suddenly filled with rage himself, with frustration, and with pain. He left the Nile and kept on galloping, kept moving, until he found himself in Helovia: unburdened, unknown, and able to start again. …::::M A G I C::::… Earth Magic: Can manipulate and control the minerals and stone of the earth to create small shelters and jewelry. If angry he can only chuck small pebbles at someone or perhaps ask stone to rise up and trip them. |
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