Post by dessy on Mar 27, 2011 23:35:48 GMT -5
S C R I B B L Y
THE 4-1-1[/size]
Full Name: Scribbly
Nickname(s): n/a
Age: 6
Gender: Female
Species: Horse
Breed(s): Quarter Horse / Mustang
Other:
BODY,[/size][/font]
Coat Color: Brown
Eye Color: Brown
Height: 15.1hh
Weight: 1100 lbs
Markings: Blaze extending down to lower lip
Scars, birthmarks, etc: Small scar starting at mid chest and extends to left shoulder.
MIND,
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Scribbly tends to be fairly quiet and keeps to herself. She is no longer afraid to snap at you and will not feel bad about it afterward. Not to take it personal, but whenever she meets and creature, she instantly expects the worst. Once you get on her good side however, she is a loyal companion and will stand her ground. She hates being pushed around, and refuses. All the months of abuse took a toll on her personality and she can come off as well, a bitch.
SOUL.
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When Scribbly was born, things were simple. She had pasture time, mom was always around, and the stall at night was warm. Everyday she was visited by a small girl who would groom her and feed her carrots.
When Scribbly was 2 years old, the small girl had grown bigger. She started to put saddles on her back. She would lead her around and sometimes put various items from the barn on her back or around her feet. When the day came that she got on Scribbly's back, it was easy. The girl had made things simple and easy to understand. It wasn't long before they would canter around a field, or jump over logs and ditches. She was loved, she was cared for, and she had an easy life. Things had patterns, and order, until one day, things changed.
Scribbly had awoken from an unusually deep slumber, early in the morning. Feeling slow and somewhat sluggish, she tried to sort things out. Poking her head out from the stall, the barn was still quiet and dark. Awaiting the time when the girl would come out to feed, the day got hot, and the girl never came. Her and the few other horses in the barn sat in their small, dirty stalls all day. A few nights passed, a few days and the girl never came. Eventually, someone came. The horses nickered, and kicked at their stall doors, wanting out. When the large man entered the barn, however, it was not as the horses had thought they would be. Shoving the stall doors open, he roughly haltered the horses and led them into the barn aisle. The horses were all loaded into an old, rusty trailer and driven away.
The new barn was nothing like the horses had ever encountered. The rations were small and the work was hard. Being saddled was an event in itself. The horses nearly shook, from fear. The man, as the horses now called him was harsh on them. They would come in from a ride drenched in sweat, and thrown in their stall. It was a wonder many of them were still sound.
After a few long months of this going on, people caught on to what was going on and he was turned in. The horses however did end up with a fairytale. Unwanted, thin and fairly ugly from lack of care, they were sent to exile, to be forgotten.
(DO THIS PART ONCE)
Your Name: Dessy
Joining Password: nylassi
Where did you find us? ....
RP Example: Troy had gotten up extra early that morning, so he could get to the barn before school. Things at home were pretty quiet and he found himself spending his time either at the barn, or at a friend's house. Everybody was stressed out and there was just a little too much tension for Troy to deal with. Besides, he thought, a little extra conditioning never hurt anybody. Mister could use the work too. They would be attending more shows with the weather starting to warm up. Hearing the quiet click of his blinker, he turned into the long driveway of Five Star. The longer he was here, the more he was starting to like the barn. He fully trusted the staff to take of Mister and the horses were always fed on time. He didn't have one complaint. Parking in his usual spot, he hopped out of the truck.
Things around the farm were still pretty quiet. It was about 5 am and the Griffins were probably just now opening things up he figured. Grabbing his hat and sweatshirt from the backseat of his truck, he slid the Ariat sweatshirt over his head, getting stuck in his hood. Slipping a baseball hat over his head, complete with hair coming out the back. His mom used to tease him when he was younger that it was his 'rooster' feathers. He smiled at the memory, missing that side of his mom.
Looking around the parking lot, there was one other vehicle in the parking lot. That's odd, he thought. Since it was so early, there were usually no other people here. Figuring it was probably just another adult getting up a little extra early to get a head start on the day. Inhaling the early morning air, Troy thought of summertime. He couldn't wait till school was over, and he would be able to ride early in the morning, when it was nice and cool out. Things would be so quiet and peaceful. He smiled at the thought of warm weather, and shivered a bit. It wasn't that warm outside just yet. Pulling down his jacket, to try and create a little more heat, he continued on.
Looking up at the barn, Troy saw a dark figure at the entry of the barn door. Squinting a little to try and see a little farther, he couldn't make out the details. It was still early and the sun was barely starting to peek out from it's hiding place. Trying to figure out just what the dark spot was, he picked up the pace a little. Arriving at the barn, he looked down at what looked to be a person. Jumping back, a little surprised he looked around to see who it was, or if it was somebody he recognized. The man looked familiar, he had seen him riding a few times. He was a good rider too. He tried to remember his name. Rick? No, Rob? No, Ryan? Yes. That was his name. Ryan. Figuring he would act as if he didn't know who the guy was, he decided to see if he was okay. Poking his head around a little more, he kneeled down. "Hey, uh, you okay? Hoping the guy was just sleeping, he caught a whiff of alcohol. Figuring he had come from a bar, not knowing quiet where to go, the barn was always a relaxing place. Quiet, the horses sure listen to your problems well. He didn't blame the guy for probably getting wasted. Things were tuff, and from the looks of it, not just for him.
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