Blade

[The Silver Brumby]

Name: Flaming Blade of Hell, Blade, Hellstorm
Age: 5
Gender: Male
Breed: Irish Draft
Description:

Liver chestnut in body. flaxen mane and tail. white eyes and flaxen ffeathers on hooves

Markings:

many flaxen coloured scars on him.
odd rune on hindquarters

Height: 19
History:

Blade was not born in the nicest of places. His father was a brute and when Blade did something wrong he was punished brutally. Brute grew up into a bully of a horse and longs to destroy those who are not as mean as himself. Eventually he rose up to kill his father, and most of the horses who ran in the herd fled. he chased them of course, killing those who fled. He only ever had one freind, a filly called Rose, who was killed one day by his father when the older stallion came home in a rage from a fight. She had done nothing wrong either!!

Personality:

Though his appearence shows a nice looking horse, this horse is evil. He will not hesitate to punish anyone who chooses to disobey him, even a foal! Once he had a heart but now there is nothing but fury in him. Many things went wrong for him and he almost hates everyone. Only those of dark spirit will get along with him.

Picture - Optional:

fc00.deviantart.net/fs17/f/2007/128/4/7/NTO__JH_Hunter__s_demon_horse_by_squidbunny.jpg

Example Post:

The hooves carried the deceitfully handsome stallion through the river glades. He knew that there were going to be many who were interested in seeing if he would claim them. Few though were above the usual dirt that many were. It was those gems that he sort. Those gems would be the ones to carry his foals, anyone else would be purely a slave to him.

He moved through the glades, eyes watching for the alone, unsuspecting mare. Huge he was, and occasionally his hooves killed the unsuspecting rabbit emerging from its burrow. He cared not for the lowly animals. They were below his compassion.

Blood red his body was hued, with an attractive dappling to his sides. His mane and tail were white flames, a rarity in hellions. Spotting the unexpected black mare, he moved towards her. The game of deciet would be the first to happen, for now he'd seen her, she was his.

"Greetings, fae." Like any other, his voice was filled with a gentle, kindness. Like hell he was really kind, it was mainly a trap for him to lure them in.