Post by amoraq on Oct 30, 2009 19:59:20 GMT -5
[bg=000000][atrb=width,100,true][atrb=border,0,true][th] SO WEAR ME LIKE A LOCKET AROUND YOUR THROAT,, |
I’ll weigh you down; I’ll watch you choke.
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Character Name: Amoraq
Pronounced: [am-or-ack]
Gender:Male
Age:3
Rank: Warlord
Appearance: Being of pureblooded Friesian decent, Amoraq is a very tall (18 h.h.) and bulky equine; lined with rippling muscles under a satiny steel hide. However, with such mass comes a certain lack of agility and strategic intellect. Each movement given by such sturdy and thick limbs is much slower than that of a swift Arabian. Albeit, each blow delivered by such an enormous creature is strong --- though hitting the target can unfortunately prove to be a problem. Amoraq –foolishly- relies far too greatly on his physical strength to bring down enemies. Fortunately, this has yet to fail him…but it’s only a matter of time before he battles an opponent that can use his size and brutish attributes against him.
Despite such an unruly personality, Amoraq is devilishly handsome. His thick coat has grown over most of his battle scars, and covers them with a silken sheet of raven black. His mane and tail and extremely long and well-groomed most of the time – though it is subject to horrid tangles when disturbed by bad weather. A thick, curved neck holds a regal skull, brandishing spherical nostrils and erect ears. Embedded between these are his eyes: auburn in tincture; making them appear bright scarlet in certain light. This often frightens others and can cause all sorts of rumors and hysteria amongst the ignorant.
As far as scars go, Amoraq is covered in them. While most are covered by his thick coat or veiled by his mane, there are quite a few that are still noticeable. One in particular runs across his left eye, over the bridge of his mug, and ends at the corner of the right side of his lips. It has severely damaged the vision in his left eye, and has almost blinded him on that side. Another scar includes the jagged one that runs across his right back haunch and down his leg, ending at his hock. Any other mars, however, are mostly hidden by his fur and cannot be seen unless in very close proximity of him.
Personality: This is perhaps one of the most irrational Warlords you’ll ever meet. His mind would never be put into the category of sane, because it never stays in one place and it does not work in coherent ways. One incident, occurrence, or even word could toss him out of his current state of mind and throw him into a fit of unspeakable rage or blissful ecstasy. This condition is known as PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder). This means that any noise, sound, or anything of the like can bring an involuntary flashback, causing him to most likely attack in blind fury or fear --- without knowledge of what he’s doing. So when around him, always make sure you pick your words carefully before you speak…and always be prepared to run. Bipolar Disorder also plagues this equine, causing him to seem like two completely different horses over the course of a few months, days, minutes, or even seconds. These traits can make him seem like a very intimidating beast, and with good reason. However, such insanity contributes to his lack of social skills. Amoraq finds it impossible to keep companions. And with his Bipolar Disorder, he is subject to depression and suicidal urges. He often feels lonely, though he will never admit to it.
Blood, pain, suffering; that’s definitely his forte. Amoraq simply adores those things and will do almost anything in his power to obtain them. Screams are perhaps the most beautiful music to his ears and mangled bodies fascinating artwork to his eyes. He feeds on emotional pain like a vampire feeds on the crimson liquid of his prey; he needs it to live and thrive in the world. And if he’s the one causing it, that’s only a plus. To him, there is no better feeling than that of bones crushing beneath your hooves or snapping between your teeth; to have the blood of another hydrate your tongue and quench your thirsts while an agonized scream rings within your eardrums. Amoraq’s favorite hobby is to fight and kill; to end the life of another. Nothing brings him more meaning and fulfillment than watching the final breaths fill the air before the death rattle overcomes the body; all leading to that overwhelming sound of deathly silence in the atmosphere. He will murder in the quickest moment, though if given the opportunity he will drag out the death as long as possible. But his life would not be complete without massacre. However, this desire to death and pain can prove to be negative. The members of his herd are often subject to his fits of rage, causing him to harm his mares -and even his offspring- in the process. With this, he finds it difficult to establish bonds with his own herd; proving him an unreliable leader.
One of his downfalls is lust. His desire for females, blood, and power can become so overpowering at times that he has to do something about it. He can’t go even one day without coming around a female or else he’ll go absolutely crazy.
Amoraq is a very temperamental beast, and his rage is very frightening. He’s aggressive with almost everything he does, and he’s never submissive. He’s not the kind to be passive and understanding to others he knows; he will fight to get things his way…a typical Warlord. However, it is only a matter of time before he picks a fight he cannot win…which will be his downfall.
Rp Sample: (this is a post i've previously done. I promise it's all me though (: )
A low, sordid growl emitted past dark lips, shadowing the resonance of heavy footfalls on the stone floor of the building. Each time the massive hooves came in contact with the ground, the reverberation resembled a prolonged crack of thunder, ominous and foreboding. Real menace now stalked the area, in the form of an equine. His stride was smooth and deliberate, a devious skull propped upon a thick neck, clearly putting his confidence on display. Nobody could harm him…nobody could touch him. And if they did, he’d rip their head off. A frightening darkness surrounded the beast, spreading for miles. You could feel the danger, the brooding bloodlust as he continued his voyage across the grounds. A wolf on the prowl was something you could put together with his predator-like gait, portentous and self-assured at the same time. A pair of deep crimson eyes gazed from the deep sockets of the brute’s cranium, hazed over completely; but so easy to read. ”Blood. Death. RAPE!” were what they said. His desires were so simple to see. He was nothing but a vessel now with bestial whims; impulses with a body. The most dangerous kind of being to ever exist on the planet.
”NO!” The single word of protest rung in his head, instantly clearing up the morbid thoughts and hiding them in the deep crevices of his brain; as if they’d never been there. The clouded eyes cleared of their abstracted miasma, revealing pupils of the same tincture; yet their message was now hidden. Guarded and veiled from the rest of the world. Emotions could never been shown, in his opinion. It was a sign of weakness; a sign of fading masculinity. His posture remained untouched, but the previous sure-footedness faltered as his mood changed suddenly, but he corrected his stride in a matter of moments. Thinking back, the dark side of him used to be sickening to think about whenever he managed to recover from it. But usually it wasn’t hard to overcome the sadistic urges, though the lapses from reality seemed to get more and more frequent as time went on. Surely, he could’ve learned to control them, couldn’t he? It was just some odd sickness that had overwhelmed him a few weeks ago. It would die soon – fade away as time went on…
Wrong. They had only grown stronger as he fought relentlessly to weaken them. His thoughts never managed to stay on the same frequencies for more than minutes or hours at a time; he could feel his sanity and control slipping through his hooves. Back then, he hadn’t been able to accept this dark force that was gaining power over his being. He would lock himself away from everybody as he could feel his lusts grow and his desires to wreak havoc and bloodshed became unbearable. It didn’t take long for the wave of evil to overpower him; to take complete control over every ounce of his body and brain. He was completely shadowed in the sins of the world; dictated by these alien thoughts as if they’d been part of him his whole life. It tossed him into the turmoils of life; dampening every hope and dream he’d ever had. But now. Now he embraced the changes, reveled in the sadistic ways of his nature. Blood shed was the reason of his existence; pain was the ultimate ecstasy. Murder was life. Sorrow was joy. Lies were the only truth. Insanity was an awesome high. Instability was a gift.
A sole sound receptor pivoted back and forth in its hollow, picking up the sounds of hooves brushing against the musky ground. A slow snarl pressed past immaculate jaws as his dark retinas snapped forth. His body tensed as every hair on his body stood on end; muscles convulsing under flesh. The Friesian took one step forward, small growls rolling past clenched fangs in a strange and eerie way; unnatural for a horse. His ears sprung forward as a noise emitted past the muzzle of the other; before the scent smacked him right in the face. The aroma of pure femininity filled his nostrils, sending waves of heat coursing through his veins as he observed her with womanizing eyes. His current state of aggression shifted to that of a bloodthirsty, lustful stallion in a mere second, the signs of arousal beginning to show as he sauntered closer to the female. He halted within about ten feet of her, his stance clearly stating he was an authoritive figure; and he was nothing but a masculine beast with the signs of the dark and possibly insane personality.
A wry grin plastered onto his handsome face, the dim lighting of the sun highlighting the scar that marred his left eye, muzzle, and right corner of his kissers; and bringing out a devilish coloration to his scarlet retinas. Yeah, he was Amoraq: the big and bad Warlord; the smooth talker, the murderer, the sex addict, the unstable monster. The brute’s tail whisked against his ankles as he met the gaze of the female before him, a warning behind the sardonic humor of his smile. ”Hello.” The deep baritone of his voice slid towards the ears of the other from between black lips, seductive and dark. The smirk widened, showing teeth stained filthy beige with blood from past victims. “What brings a beautiful mare like you to such a soiled place?”
Other: N/A
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