Making graves across the globe...
! ESCAPE INTO MY WORLD Oh, Dakodah, you wonderful little bastard.


! NEW BOY IN TOWN ...you've much to learn of the world.


PORTRAIT
{ ! }

DEAD BIRD B L E E D I N G IN THE BLACKEST NIGHT !

AND THEY ALL C H A N T!
Drogora! Drogora! (derived from Drogo meaning "phantom")

AGED
One hundred fine years and countin', puppet!

MY PEDESTAL STANDS
Sixteen point three to the sky!

WOVEN INTO THIS TAPESTRY IS THE FINEST THREAD
Irish Hunter, or so my daddy said.

A BEAST OF MANY FACES WEARS MANY MASKS
I guard my world as a Cerberus (giant black dog with three heads)


IT ISN'T JUST A TRICK OF THE HAND
I am the creator and only one who can RAISE THE DEAD through necromancy and use them as my puppets. Expert in, Earth, Air, Fire, Water, Shadow Bending, Illusionist, Creature Bending, Replication, Electric Control and Telepathy.


WELL DRESS ME DOWN IN A PAPER BAG GOWN !
I'm not one for show, specially not with this hideous liver chestnut hide o' mine.

I NEVER SAID I WAS TO DIE FOR
I suppose the solid black mane with silvery gray tips and these jagged, gray brindled stripes will suit you?

THERE'S A PARTY AT THE END OF THE WORLD!
And don't I love a party...
Death, my ghosts, playing puppet-master, the smell of decay, haunting, twisting the lives of mortals. 'S what I love the most!

WHAT FOOLS THESE MORTALS BE !
The living and their disgusting haughty airs; the other immortals. Oh, how I hate them all!

WELL, FIDDLE-DEE-DEE
I see things that aren't there. Well, not see, but hear things and speak to them as if they were standing beside me. I also have a bad habit of reading people's minds and replying to what they think instead of what they say.

THEY SAY I BREAK NECKS !
Flaunts are very little..save for, in her opinion, the fact that she has no eyes and very little fat on her incredibly thin skeleton. Since she is blind, she sees through sending out tremors and vibrations through the earth, using her element, to get a glimpse of what's there. The vibrations take the form of whatever they come in contact with, giving her a short flash of everything in front of her.

OH, HOW YOU DO GO ON !
Drogora is a twisted character - a humbled sort of mare, a visage of madness wrapped not in delicate swathes of glimmering beauty, surprisingly, but cloaked in the bedraggled, haggard frame of a hag. She's passionate about several items that keep her moving. First, is power. Everything in this mare's life is in a mere attempt to gain more power. Yes, yes, lovely little goals we have, don't we? The next is pain. Bloody, agonizing pain that sends her little neurons jumping and leaping and screaming for the end. Masochist would be the correct term, really. She gouged out her own eyes simply to gain acceptance into her rank of power in the past. Her hide is littered with scars, most self-inflicted. The third, is death. Enough said, really. She is a stealthy little thing, dangerous when something is in her way, and extremely hostile.

Temperamental, yet able to keep a lid on the explosive temper she was rumored to have when younger. As age has crept up on her, she has matured from a fiery young mare who would rip your head off at a single moment to a rather level-headed old thing, which makes her a decent leader in dealing with the mindless souls that trail after her. Yet, she is known for her rages - terrible, mind-crushing, blood-spilling rages.

ITS LIKE SOME KINDA GODDAMMED FAIRY TALE!

At times it seemed that the little babe known fondly as Drogo, or “dear one”, could lead a semblance of a normal life. There had been hardships, yes, many hardships – the death of a beloved friend, or the cruel tidings of Mother Nature in her often cumbersome wrath – but Drogo found herself quite happy with her status. Mother; not really nurturing, nor very maternal, she seemed though to want to protect the life of her youngling and thus fed her and looked after her, but there was no tangible connection.

Father; oh, how she adored her father! Kind, loving, he was perhaps the opposite of what the wild stallion legend was supposed to be – he seemed to take the place of her mother, and Drogo wanted nothing more than to prove her worth to him. From day one, the feisty, flamboyant little female fought desperately for her father’s attention (though he gave it willingly) always trying to be the best. She was always hungry for more than she had.

It wasn’t long before she realized the futility of her efforts; though her father cared for her greatly, his love could not satiate the burning need for something bigger. A life that was flashier! It was this hunger that drove her to some deranged need for success – a sensation powerful enough to give her the ‘high’ she so yearned for. Unsure of how it actually began, Drogo became obsessed with pain, and the rush of endorphins that coursed through her system after the initial shock had passed. She quickly became a masochist, a simple minded little female who stuck her neck out too far just to get a beating.

A very selfish individual, Drogo left her homelands in search of something greater and more profound. In her travels, often violent and bloody, she came across a nomadic sect of equines who knew much of gods and their unworldly ways. Drogo became fascinated with these beings, and begged to join them in their ranks. She was but three at the time, still growing into her leggy body, and was permitted to join the pagan worshipers.

As time grew long and years passed, Drogo earned her way into the High Council of the Nomadic Sect, thus earning her the title Priestess Drogora; and though most of the souls in the sect were of the light-hearted alliance, there were those of the darkness that soon began to praise Drogora for her wisdom, for her power and strength and above all her ability to withstand immense pain.

For you see, Drogo underwent a change as she struggled her way up the ranks; in order to show her loyalty to the Sect, she made sacrifices each night of young animals to the Gods, injured herself to show penitence, and night after night degrading herself to the High Priest’s and their abusive ways as they had their way with her as a young puppet to the almighty.

At the age of 7 she gave birth to two colts, Ikaros and Alkaos, fathered by the High Priest himself. From this honor, and that of her undying loyalty she was inducted into the position of High Priestess. Yet, the hunger within her still burned for more. The High Priest, Meuric, sensed this hunger within her…and should have listened to his suspicions.

Using the support of her followers, Drogora enacted a violent coup against Meuric and overthrew him and his loyalists, ripping out his heart and stomping it to bits to show what would happen to all who threatened her rule or stood in her way. Her twins would follow their mother to the ends of the earth and back and even stomped on the carcass of their father as he lay rotting in the fields for all to see.

It was at that point that Drogora noticed her fascination with the dead; she had noticed this little nagging interest when sacrificing the small little creatures for her gods, but, she had pushed it aside. Now, looking at the cadaver that once belonged to her lover, Drogora felt a scintillating thrill of delight, of hunger when looking at the bloodied organs and stomach split wide open.
Thus began her cruel reign demanding an equine sacrifice each week to satiate this desire of the dead and their decaying bodies.

- - -

Five years passed, and Drogora had reached the age of 14, her sons now the glorious age of 7 and as loyal to their mother as was the rest of the entire sect. But her thirst for power grew and grew, thriving in her dark soul as her mind frayed and twisted with old age and dementia. She began to hear voices, and slowly her mind unraveled till corpses began to speak to her, calling to her. Her demand for sacrifices grew and grew till it was up to three sacrifices a week. She said the gods spoke to her, demanding more blood, for their tainted souls were diluting the innocence needed for purification of the soul.

In reality, Drogora was perfecting her creation. She had mastered all of the elements of the world – earth, air, fire and water – but something in her heart cried for more control. More power.






AND HOW THEY BLED !
My babies Ikaros and Alkaos bled so much as their hearts slid down my hungry hungry throat.

A LITTLE JUST ISN'T ENOUGH, HUH?
She has no eyes, and through the sockets you can see bits of her brain pulsing sickly and slightly.She has a hole in her chest and you can see the rib cage and where her dead heart lays cold. A special talent of hers, despite being able to see bits and pieces of the world through her use of the earth, Drogora can see through other horse’s eyes for periods of time. She's deathly skinny (oh, puns are such fun) and you can count each and every rib on the gaunt body. Drogora brings other deceased horses back to life and uses them as her puppets - literally, she can have a small army at her command in moments if she is within reach of a few corpses.

Code:

[blockquote][font=Palatino Linotype][center][size=4][color=171717] SMILE AS IF THE WORLD WERE [color=464737]BLEEDING[/color] [/color][/size][/center][/font] [color=272b25][i]ACTION.[/i] [color=2f322f][center]QUOTH[/center][/color] [color=464737] "SPEECH."[/color] [/color][/blockquote]

PORTRAIT!
{ ! }

spread those wings, young knight.


! Home At Last Aras...Euratos...my loves. I'm so sorry.


! Can you Control This? Humblest greetings, Anteviera



GENDER;; XY

AGE;; NINE [NOW IMMORTAL]

BLOOD;; DELIBOZ X KLAUDRUBER X FRIESIAN

HEIGHT;; 17.2

ELEMENT;;

MASTER WATER BENDER

Water, ADVANCED (his most powerful element)
Weather Bending, ADVANCED
Vision Bending, ADVANCED
Earth, ADVANCED
Air, ADVANCED
Healing, INTERMEDIATE
Teleportation, INTERMEDIATE

[I won his extra advanced abilities in contests & OTM spotlights]


SHIFT;; Great White Shark & Lion [Melanistic, meaning dark brown in coloration, almost black (Like Scar from Lion King XD]

COLORS;; Black Silver Dapple, meaning his coat is a creamy chocolate color with golden dapples

LAND ;; The Sunken Citadel

THE MASK;; Skamandar [It is pronounced SKAW-MANN-DARR, the spaces equal a pause. It's not skuh-man-durr XD] is a bit odd; he doesn't believe that revenge is healthy, and yet, ironically he is named after the god of revenge and familial blood spilling. He takes this to heart, really, vowing himself to be a sort of avenger for those who have been wronged. Yet, he is classified as a dark because he will murder without thought or consideration to the others side of the story. He only see's what has been done wrong, and in an act of obsession he must correct it. The only way to cleanse this sin is by the shedding of the guilty one's blood, and if available, to spread the blood on the victim's forehead. That is when the ritual is officially complete; and from each life that he claims in the name of revenge, he takes a vertebrae from the body and ties it into the tangles of his long, knee-length mane and tail so he makes this odd clanking as he moves. [I don't know how...he just does XD]

THE BEGINNING OF WHAT IS;; Skamandar was born into the legendary Daethrot family (at least legendary in his homeland), a long line of nobles and royal blood. If one were to actually look back and see the blood that was mixed in these lines you'd clearly see it wasn't pure (due to the many affairs and well, lustful stallions as well as mares). But, that was what made the Daethrot lineage so legendary- it was a combination, it seemed, of the lithest and agile warriors intermingled with those of brute speed and strength. It was a blessing most weren't lucky enough to get. It seemed, though, that as time went on, the blood became more selective again - the breeds ran clearer and stronger. Though there was still the occasional blur pure muscled flesh it was mostly the lithe and agile.

Skamandar was blessed with this honorable family and wonderful title of Gwithdren (meaning Master and King) of a rather massive herd, whose numbers swelled and never seemed to shrink. Of course, with great power, comes a long list of people who either worship the ground you walk on or spit at the very mention of his name. He had fallen in love with an older mare, Gálisande, who seemed well past the age for birthing, though she wasn't entirely unattractive in her advanced age. Most think it was a desire to have even more control than he already did - it wasn't by any means a forced encounter, for it was a known fact that the two were star-crossed lovers, as it were. Soon, a beautiful little filly was born and named Mélisande.

Years passed as the rumors spread of this betrayal to his present and most malicious queen, and though the widened mare caught wind of the "tawdry" affair long ago, she had waited for the opportune moment when times were hard and the herd had turned almost against Skamandar. And, to make an intense and dramatic story short, there was a giant feud between Skamandar, Gálisande, and their daughter Mélisande and the Queen who in turn rallied her bastard son, Péllaes, from her 'adviser' Morthran, to banish the three. In all reality it was to destroy them completely- instead, it resulted in the death of Gálisande and the complete banishing of Skamandar. He had been beaten nearly within death and was left with the painful scar on the side of his face.


past threads;
! SO LET'S CHAT!
First post; met Peridot.

! WHEN THE WORLD CAVES IN...
Dead fight thread. Met Acadia.

! IN THE PITS OF HELL
- Ska meets the infamous goddess Zafina and falls under her spell.

! TAKE ME HOME
takes his new lead mare home, the lovely Aras.

! YOU CANNOT KILL...
claiming post that never got off the ground. Met Vixen.

m u r t a g h .. . . . . . . . . . . . . A N D . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . s a o i r s e

loathsome gargoyle, break your wings on the light of day.

IMAGE


Name: Murtagh and Saoirse

Murtagh and Saoirse are deformed from a defect at birth; they were born as Siamese twins, connected at the neck. They share one body, and one heart - though Saoirse was born with half a heart, it was never fully functional. Thus they died at a very young age, only lasting three years by hardly leaving the sheltered meadow in which they were born. Drogora raised them from the dead and made them a ghost.

Murtagh’s head is on the right, Saoirse’s on the left.

Age: 3

Height: 16.3

Breed: Gypsy Vanner x Irish Draught

Shape shifting animal: n/a

Bending power: Earth

Coat colour: Grullo paint.

Mane & tail: Dark gray/black with various white streaks

Normal markings: Black points, black feathered hooves (except the right front hoof has white feathers).

Murtagh’s face is completely white with black eyes, and the white extends down the front of their chest (to the right side only) and the right leg of their body. His mane is short and choppy, very sparse, thin and wiry, easy to fall out.

Saoirse’s head is the normal grullo with a white blaze that extends into patches around her crystalline blue eyes.


Loves:

being important
loud, clashing sounds
disruption
laughter


the quiet
chaos
disorder
lying

Hates:
both;
hatred
lying
blood
the self-righteous
the "fake" upper-ranks
the lower ranks
paupers
beggars
lice
the innocent
the belligerent
the arrogant
the placating peace-mongers


Flaws:

- overly outgoing
- two faced
- bitter
- easily intimidated
- complient


- stubborn
- prone to lie
- hates the world
- bitter
- self conscious
- narcissistic
- discriminating
- prejudice
- vain



Flaunts:

She is a very intelligent being; never at lack for a sarcastic or ingenious remark. Her heart is hardened to the point where he doesn't trust a single soul, which is a great strength in today's world, where darkness waits in the most unseemly places. Though not as fast as she'd like to be, she makes up for it in sheer size and strength.

Combined, these two are quite the ferocious team -

Personality:
Murtagh is never quite satisfied with just sitting around and doing the same old thing, which is why he makes an exquisite hunter. He is bold, daring and reckless, not caring who or what gets in his way, yet he is continually forced to contend with his stubborn sister. Murtagh seemed to have gotten the whole ‘hunter and hunted’ thing backwards; he loves to hunt, though he is often hindered by his sister who refuses to let him move.

Murtagh has a thing for eyes, and is often caught staring other horses down, simply observing them Death has turned this fascination into more of an obsession, and whenever he kills (which isn’t often because Saoirse won’t allow him to unless SHE needs the body) he takes his trophy, the victim’s eyes.

Murtagh is never the same horse twice. Everyone he meets gets to see a different side of him; whether it be friendly, obnoxious, angsty, insane, hyper, childish, serious, sarcastic, mocking - whatever it be, he is always someone else.

Including name-wise. It is very rare that more than a few people know his true name, Murtagh. Only two are lucky enough at the moment to call him Murtagh, which is Saoirse and Drogora – for she is the one who named the Siamese twins.

Obviously he is a very social creature, very outgoing and depending on whom he is, likable. He really has no reason for the constant name and personality changing except the fact that he thoroughly enjoys messing with people’s heads. It’s what he does, and how he works. It is difficult at times to be so social, because of his deformity, but he persists.

Saoirse is a mare of extremes; She is either overly exuberant, or extremely and most unpleasantly angry. And whens he is angry, she is violent and above all, cruel. Saoirse is a merciless mare, who has no remorse for killing any living thing of any living sort. She doesn't per say take joy out of killing, as does her brother, but she sees it more as a job, a sworn duty to Drogora. Greedy and willing to demolish anything in her path, simply to get to the top of whatever ranks there are. Generally, Saoirse is in a very upbeat mood, what with her blunt sentences, jokes and usually smiling face but is very prone to vicious mood swings. Very sarcastic yet to the point, blunt, decisive, controlling.

To delve a bit deeper, Saoirse has an obsession with herself and perfection. She is possibly the world’s greatest Narcissist, though has taken her obsession to the next level; as she kills for Drogora she takes bodies for her own, attempting to collect enough parts to make a new body for her-self; eventually, she hopes to use it as a capsule for her mind much like Drogora can do.



History: Born to a nameless mare who was unable to give birth to them properly due to their deformity - their father was forced to cut into their mother's belly and pull the newborn out after she passed away during birth. Their father was desperate to have a child, even if it be deformed such as them. He, however, did not have the heart to give them names lest he become too attached - for nothing this disfigured and unnatural could survive for long.

His prediction was not entirely correct - luckily for the newborn Siamese twins conjoined at the neck, a mare who had recently given birth to a stillborn and was of the advanced level in healing provided milk, and continual sessions of purifying their blood and strengthening their body and extending their life to about three years. They suffered persecution, contempt and disgust wherever they roamed, so they mostly stayed within the small boundaries of the sheltered meadow in which they were born.

When the mare, Isabel, took ill from donating so much of her own bodily strength and spirit, their health steadily declined and, though the father had named them and taken care of them along with, he no longer wished to make Isabel suffer any longer.

With all of the strength he could muster, the stallion led them to Drogora's lands and proceeded to eliminate them from life - he murdered them, calling it a "mercy kill" because he didn't want them to suffer any longer.

Drogora's minions found the corpse and dragged it to the top of a massive mountain of dead that she ordered to be built, and when she saw the twisted creation she brought them back to life and made them a ghost - choosing not to take entire control over them, as they pledged their loyalty to her without being coerced. They had no memories of life prior (for the goddess wiped them clean) nor of the names their 'loving' father had given them; she renamed them after her Irish birth rights, and undoubtedly their Irish genes, evident by the thick gypsy vanner and draught that ran through their veins. Thus Murtagh and Saoirse were born again!

Extra: they are a ghost! 8D!


*TEMPORARY FORMAT*