Post by lady shady on Apr 14, 2012 17:45:36 GMT -5
Feror
Name;;
Feror
AKA;;
n/a
Age;;
year two; age 6
Gender;;
stallion
Breed;;
Thoroughbred
Height;;
16.2 hh
Coat Colour;;
dapple gray
Eye Colour;;
brown
Markings;;
dark legs, dappling, faint scars about the chest and face, a few large scars near his lips
Personality;;
Feror is a rather insecure being, mainly due to the fact that he cannot easily communicate with others. He can be shy when approached, and generally would rather run off than fight if confronted. When afraid and given no chance of escape from the source of his terror however, he is easily manipulated. Feror knows this and thus does his best to avoid frightening situations. When at ease, Feror is satisfied just with getting by—he seeks out no special privileges or alliances. Though he would very much like to have a herd of his own, he doubts that any mare would take him as he is.
History;;
Feror was born in the last season of the great war, into the remnants of a herd that had once been large and prosperous but had lost their leader in the course of the fighting. His father was young and inexperienced, and his mother was a relative newcomer to the herd, her own having been decimated by all of the bloodshed. Though the war ended soon after his birth, Feror and the few other foals his age did not have a stable upbringing—they ran rather wild and did as they pleased, for who was going to stop them? Certainly not their father! Feror was as boisterous as all the rest, joining in with the unruly colts of the little group even though he knew it displeased his mother. Eventually, the bachelor group was expelled from the herd—neither party wanted much to do with the other any longer. So, Feror left with his young herdmates, and they simply became a bunch of drifters—flitting here and there, trying (unsuccessfully) to steal young mares from larger herds, and generally wreaking havoc. One day in the late autumn, when Feror was about three years old, the group wandered into a forest in a mountainous region. They amused themselves for the better part of the day poking their noses into rotten logs and caves, crashing though the underbrush, and making noise. Finally, towards the end of the day, they came across a cave that stretched further back than most of the ones they had been exploring. They crowded into the cave, intending to look around. Feror was near the front of the group, and he was one of the first to see the bobcat emerge from the shadows. There was a collective scream of fear and a mad rush to escape the space, but not before the bobcat was at Feror’s throat. Terrified, the young stag did what he could to fight the animal off, biting, kicking, painting the walls of the cave red as he repeatedly threw himself against them in an attempt to dislodge the cat. It was a bloody fight, but to this day, even Feror himself is not quite sure how it ended. What he can remember is a lightning-hot ripping agony and a slow darkness and a sticky pool of blood, which he was lying in when he came to. The bobcat was gone, dead or alive he never knew. The other things missing—a large chunk of Feror’s tongue, torn from his mouth by the bobcat, and his bachelor herd, who had fled. Miraculously, Feror managed to survive through the winter. Since then, he has continued to drift on his own, unable to speak, only able to manage guttural sounds and low nickers and whinnies.
Loves;;
being understood
open spaces (fields, meadows, etc.)
Hates;;
caves and other dark enclosed spaces
bobcats
Alliance;;
Ramaskith, if he managed to corner him—Feror would be easily manipulated if Vondur was present
Other;;
Feror would like to start a herd, though he feels that it may very well be impossible.
Store Items
none
Ranking
currently none
