Post by mothmona on Jun 11, 2010 15:32:35 GMT -5
Name of Character(s):Peninnah
Text:Peninnah
Quote: When Life Stops Giving, Life Starts Taking Away
Species: Horse
Age: 41
Gender: Mare
Breed: Gypsy Vanner
Colour: B&W
Physical Appearance: thin fur, worn out, obviously past her peek in life. Background should be something trippy to make it obvious she has episodes of insanity.
Personality: She thinks she is right about everything; she’s very proper and proud, so her episodes of insanity are humiliating in her opinion. She wants to isolate herself to keep from humiliating herself farther. If it helps, she’s terrified of snakes (one killed her foal)
Images or References: this is her old picture: i657.photobucket.com/albums/uu291/terrencia/peninahpiccy.jpg
Image Ideas:she could be on the ground kicking, but really however you think you can portray what I’ve already given you.
Example post with requested character:
Her maw slipped open and a grown slipped from her scratched up, sore and throbbing lungs. Her muscles would convulse with every movement she took towards the drowned out open field. This wasn’t her home, nor was it the place she had been heading. Suspicious, she turned her head on its axis, scanning the surrounding area. She looked behind her, too. The forest she had just left was no longer there. The fields were open and untouched; no plant life taller than a foot could be seen for miles. The sky was grey. Her hide crawled. She knew exactly what was going on.
Peninnah tried closing her eyes tightly. Her head lifted proudly despite the pain and her hooves moved blindly forward. She could not see where she was going, but that suited her. After a certain point, you can’t trust your eyes anymore.
The winds around her grew stronger and forceful. They tried to move her off her course, but she wouldn’t have it. That made them angry, persistent. All at once they started howling at her, saying ferocious, vulgar things. The mare only took up a quicker pace and kept going; straight forward.
“Don’t let them effect you.” She quickly whispered to herself through clenched teeth, trying to keep her broken mind together. “Keep them <i>out</i>.” She hissed.
The howls became more voice-like, more equine. She recognized the voices; ghosts from her past. She heard her husband, her father. Her <i>mother</i>. It disgusted her. She only strode longer.
<i>“Mother?”</i> A faint voice stood out from the others. Another trick from the black winds that now swirled with smoke. It was only on the noting that she realized she had opened her eyes. She knew it was fake, in her heart, she knew it was not her son… but if it was… if he was alive… <i>“Mother, I’m not tired. Don’t go to sleep.” </i>
“I won’t!” She hissed. “I won’t!” She pleaded. The small voice that cried for her, it grew fainter and farther. She turned to chase it. It was an awful mistake. In an instant she was swept away, high into the skies. Her limbs epileptically whirl around and spasm. Her throat, though painfully sore, rasps out whatever pleas in can. The ground only goes farther away, along with her hopes. She’s begging to be let down, and just as suddenly the winds evaporate and she begins falling at a speed of 9.8 miles per second per second. It adds up. She hits.
When Peninnah’s consciousness regains, she felt even more exhausted than she had been before the apparition started. She climbs her hollow bones to an upright position and looks around. She allows urine to slip off her legs and darken the dirt by her feet. . She isn’t in the forest anymore. She had sleep-walked to a meadow. The grass was wet and stuck to her hooves. Her jacket was patchy, thinning, and did little to protect her from the elements. “Does the humiliation never end?” She murmurs in her cruel tone. Shivering, the once proud mare strode into the land she had ended up in. This happened much more often than Peninnah would like.
She was used to being respected and revered. She liked to get into the politics of a land and exploit what she could using her own talent for having connections. Random episodes of insanity were not helpful to her reputation, which she prized. These days, those who truly knew her knew that she was next to nothing these days. Her life had peeked; several years ago. These days she just tried to stay away; from territories, other horses, anything that could be degrading to have an episode in front of. She wanted isolation, but it seemed that these days, equines littered this muddy planet. Wherever she went, horse was in the wind. She could smell them and their leavings. <i>The other horses</i>, she thought. <i>It’s a new generation. In my day, during my prime, there was no such filth on the earth. All the proper ways are lost. I prefer the kings of old. There was much to learn from them</i>.
Regardless of her disdain, the old girl shuffled on, hooves leaving tracks in the green grass behind her.
Comments:please don’t put her in any obscure, legs-sticking-out-at-weird-angles poses
Signature?: none
Which site(s) will you be using the image to? thedreamscape.freehostia.com and hoofprince.com
Specific Artist?: nope
Text:Peninnah
Quote: When Life Stops Giving, Life Starts Taking Away
Species: Horse
Age: 41
Gender: Mare
Breed: Gypsy Vanner
Colour: B&W
Physical Appearance: thin fur, worn out, obviously past her peek in life. Background should be something trippy to make it obvious she has episodes of insanity.
Personality: She thinks she is right about everything; she’s very proper and proud, so her episodes of insanity are humiliating in her opinion. She wants to isolate herself to keep from humiliating herself farther. If it helps, she’s terrified of snakes (one killed her foal)
Images or References: this is her old picture: i657.photobucket.com/albums/uu291/terrencia/peninahpiccy.jpg
Image Ideas:she could be on the ground kicking, but really however you think you can portray what I’ve already given you.
Example post with requested character:
Her maw slipped open and a grown slipped from her scratched up, sore and throbbing lungs. Her muscles would convulse with every movement she took towards the drowned out open field. This wasn’t her home, nor was it the place she had been heading. Suspicious, she turned her head on its axis, scanning the surrounding area. She looked behind her, too. The forest she had just left was no longer there. The fields were open and untouched; no plant life taller than a foot could be seen for miles. The sky was grey. Her hide crawled. She knew exactly what was going on.
Peninnah tried closing her eyes tightly. Her head lifted proudly despite the pain and her hooves moved blindly forward. She could not see where she was going, but that suited her. After a certain point, you can’t trust your eyes anymore.
The winds around her grew stronger and forceful. They tried to move her off her course, but she wouldn’t have it. That made them angry, persistent. All at once they started howling at her, saying ferocious, vulgar things. The mare only took up a quicker pace and kept going; straight forward.
“Don’t let them effect you.” She quickly whispered to herself through clenched teeth, trying to keep her broken mind together. “Keep them <i>out</i>.” She hissed.
The howls became more voice-like, more equine. She recognized the voices; ghosts from her past. She heard her husband, her father. Her <i>mother</i>. It disgusted her. She only strode longer.
<i>“Mother?”</i> A faint voice stood out from the others. Another trick from the black winds that now swirled with smoke. It was only on the noting that she realized she had opened her eyes. She knew it was fake, in her heart, she knew it was not her son… but if it was… if he was alive… <i>“Mother, I’m not tired. Don’t go to sleep.” </i>
“I won’t!” She hissed. “I won’t!” She pleaded. The small voice that cried for her, it grew fainter and farther. She turned to chase it. It was an awful mistake. In an instant she was swept away, high into the skies. Her limbs epileptically whirl around and spasm. Her throat, though painfully sore, rasps out whatever pleas in can. The ground only goes farther away, along with her hopes. She’s begging to be let down, and just as suddenly the winds evaporate and she begins falling at a speed of 9.8 miles per second per second. It adds up. She hits.
When Peninnah’s consciousness regains, she felt even more exhausted than she had been before the apparition started. She climbs her hollow bones to an upright position and looks around. She allows urine to slip off her legs and darken the dirt by her feet. . She isn’t in the forest anymore. She had sleep-walked to a meadow. The grass was wet and stuck to her hooves. Her jacket was patchy, thinning, and did little to protect her from the elements. “Does the humiliation never end?” She murmurs in her cruel tone. Shivering, the once proud mare strode into the land she had ended up in. This happened much more often than Peninnah would like.
She was used to being respected and revered. She liked to get into the politics of a land and exploit what she could using her own talent for having connections. Random episodes of insanity were not helpful to her reputation, which she prized. These days, those who truly knew her knew that she was next to nothing these days. Her life had peeked; several years ago. These days she just tried to stay away; from territories, other horses, anything that could be degrading to have an episode in front of. She wanted isolation, but it seemed that these days, equines littered this muddy planet. Wherever she went, horse was in the wind. She could smell them and their leavings. <i>The other horses</i>, she thought. <i>It’s a new generation. In my day, during my prime, there was no such filth on the earth. All the proper ways are lost. I prefer the kings of old. There was much to learn from them</i>.
Regardless of her disdain, the old girl shuffled on, hooves leaving tracks in the green grass behind her.
Comments:please don’t put her in any obscure, legs-sticking-out-at-weird-angles poses
Signature?: none
Which site(s) will you be using the image to? thedreamscape.freehostia.com and hoofprince.com
Specific Artist?: nope
