Wings and Winds

[CrazySparkles]

Windrunner
Sex: Mare
Age: 7
Breed: Andalusian
Coat Color: White
Eye Color: Blue
Facial Markings: Black Star, Black Muzzle
Leg Markings: Knee high black Stockings
Body Markings (if any): None
Mane and Tail Color: Black
Reference Pic (link): fc03.deviantart.net/fs28/i/2008/058/0/3/Windrunner_by_Crazysparkles06.jpg
History:
Windrunner was born in the desert, far to the east in a placid oasis. Both her parents, both pure Andalusians took great pride in their young daughter, their first child, however secretly her father had wished with all his being for a son. For the first two years of her life the young filly flourished on the wisdom and freedom of her desert home and the nurturing of her parents, but her carefree way of being was soon to end.

One particularly stormy evening, her mother heavy with foal left the small family group. Her father paced for hours as he waited for the return of his mate, but when morning broke there was still no news. When at last he could take it no more as the sun scorched overhead, her proud father set off to find the mare, leaving Windrunner alone with the rest of the herd. The cry of anguish that rattled the landscape next, was the beginning, of the end.

Windrunner's mother had died giving birth to her younger brother, who had also perished during the intense struggle. Her father, completely ravaged with pain turned on her, and blamed her for both their deaths. Unable to set eyes upon his daughter, who had been borne from the womb of the mare he loved more than anything, he chased her off to wander through the deserts alone.

For many months Windrunner struggled to find a herd that would accept her. The nights were cold without a band to huddle against, and her heart panged with a deep loneliness and sadness. However, news travels fast on the wind, and there was talk in all the local herds that the young filly was cursed.

"It's her black star," they whispered at the waterhole. "It's an omen. Bad luck follows the one with the smeared forehead."

So, even now Windrunner wanders her desert home, searching for compassion and companionship amongst the superstitious herds. She has even considered leaving all that she has ever known to start anew, but without a friend to ease her fears, these are just dreams.

Personality: Windrunner is a kind, soft spoken, sweet-tempered filly. She spends most of her days alone, although she longs for, more than anything, a constant companion. She is very spooky, tentative, and suspicious, and tends to run away when another equine approaches. Occasionally she will have bouts of depression due to her situation, and every once and a while she will lash out with pent-up anger and frustration.

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Windrunner threw her head with apt frustration, her sweat-soaked forelock cracking her forehead like a catty-nine tail. She grunted deep within her throat and stomped her hind leg. Stretching out long and lean like a cat she pulled backwards only to immediately jump foreward again.

Something metal, something strong and painful held her right foreleg in it's grasp. During the night the mare had taken her usual route to the stream only to have her leg snapped from mid-step by an unusual metal trap. The pain was nearly unbearable, and for most of the night the mare had fought to free her leg. When the sun finally crested over the mountains and dappled the pathway with it's long, hazy rays, Windrunner knew her situation was dire.

Moving even to switch the weight on her back legs caused a surge of fresh, raw pain to run up her captured forelimb. The sight of the blood...more blood than she had ever seen, made the mare's head spin. She stumbled awkwardly as her head swimmed and she barely managed to keep herself upright without disturbing her injured hoof. The other three free legs were already beginning to quiver and shake with the effort of supporting the extra weight.

The trap would not relent, and the longer it sucked blood from her veins, the shorter she had to free herself.

[kylie]

Name :: Wings of a Cloud
Named after :: It just kind of came to me, like she did
Age :: Five Rotations
Breed :: Anglo Arabian
Gender :: Mare
Color :: Grey dapple with steel grey eyes (slight blue tint)
Markings :: Black point markings, black socks and stockings with white socks. She has scars all over her body, most small enough to not be too noticeable.
Height :: 16.3 hh
Personality :: Wings is a headstrong mare that tends to act more like a stallion around mares in heat, then a sweet tempered mare. She has a rough and tough exterior that surrounds the ooey gooey heart that is who she truly is. It takes time for her to warm up to other equines, but once she does she would give her life to protect them. Her mood can switch quite quickly at times, but most of the time it is stable. To make a long story short, she is hot headed, loving, kind, fierce, unforgiving and loyal.
History :: From the moment she took her first breath, Wings has been cursed to a life full of suffering. Her conception was a horrific rape, and her birth was bloody, leading to the death of her mother. The herd she was born into hated her, giving her almost nothing to survive and grow with. She learned to hide her emotions and to attack all of those who ridiculed her, blaming her for a death she had no control over. As a result she became known as the 'Iron Maiden', and was forced from her herd. She roamed the lands, joining with bands for brief moments, until they too grew to fear her new name. She continued on looking for the one who could open her heart to the world around her...






The heart in her chest beat hard as her legs hit the round rhythmically, her nostrils flaring to drag the air into her lungs. Wings twisted her well muscled frame to dodge the trees that popped up in her path. She ran not from a predator, or to a destination, but just to run, to feel her body move in a dance with the rest of nature. In her mind, she could have kept running forever...only the sharp, bitter scent of blood made her hesitate to do so. She dug her hooves into the soft earth between the trees and lifted her head to try and pinpoint the location of the dirty smell. Twisting her ears around, she caught the sound of a whimper, almost too quiet to hear.

Prancing sideways, she fought with herself, whether to go and see if she could help or not. The hardness that surrounded her heart shifted and pushed back against the warmth that filled her being. Shaking her chiseled head, she turned and trotted fluidly towards the smell, letting her senses guide her. As she crossed the thresh hold of the plains, she spotted the being, quivering like leaves in the wind. The mare called out, the whites of her eyes glinting as she moved closer. Once she was close enough to see what had caused the mare so much damage, her eyes hardened. Stupid humans. I could kill them all. She bared her teeth at the metal jaws that wrapped around the dark limb of the fae

I am Wings of a Cloud. Who are you? May I help?

She hated herself for even asking, instead of barging into the situation like she normally did, doing as she wished instead of what she was told. Her long, tangled tail swished along her flanks as the scent got to her again, almost as if it were staining her with just smelling it.

[steeljaw36]

Bit of an odd one here, but lets see if he'll work here!
Florian
Sex : Stallion
Age: 9
Breed: Gypsy Vanner
Coat: Mostly white, couple of large black spots on mid chest and neck. Mane is part black, part white. Tail is black.
Facial markings: None
Eyes:Brown
Leg markings: Both fores black above the feathering
Height: 15hh
Reference pic: I'll update this soon
History:
Florian was born with the wanderer's spirit, born into a tribe of the famous gypsies, his early life was spend much the way any young foal's would. His world was that of working with humans, and as long as they travelled, he was content.

That changed rather abruptly. A raider attack and a days long storm found him hopelessly lost and alone shortly after his 4th year. Knowing next to nothing about living wild, he set off. Over the course of that year he learned wht it meant to live alone, from fending of those who saw him as a meal to finding warmth on the deepest of winter nights.

He'd run into a couple herds over the years, mostly he'd been fought off by it's stallion, or he'd left after those he was with became wary of him. His looks were far different from thiers, he had the look of human meddling about him and though it had been many sesons since his last encounter with humans, the herd shunned him for it still. So he travelled on, eventually finding himself in the "ocean of sand" that he'd heard of.

If anything life was harder for him there, for all that he'd learned meant almost nothing in the desert. Yet he manages to survive still, forever journeying on, to where, even he knows not....

Personality: He is an outspoken, sometimes stubborn stallion, whose curiosity often gets the better of him. He's got a heart of gold, it just may take some time for him to show it, for repeatedly being turned away has hardened him.





*Lad, if'n there be a drier place in the world, then i'd nae want tae know of it...* The black and white stallion thought, as he plodded his way through the sparse trees and brush that made up the edge of the great sand. Even out here, water was sparse, and he was hoping the was an oasis nearby. He continued on, making no effort to hide, as he long ago discovered his color was not suited to blending in.

Stopping under a patch of trees, the stallion gave his dial a shake, sending the sand that had been trapped in his mane flying in a golden cloud of dust, showing the true color of his mane. Raising his dial, he hoped to get a scent of water, for daylight ws comming on, and he'd learned you don't travel by day, not here.

The scent that came to him however, was much different indeed. Stiffining in alarm, he inhaled again. There was the scent of blood and fear, both nearby. "Now there canne be anything good about that now..." he muttered, trying to decide weither to stay or leave. On one hoof, this was at least a good shaded area, one that would keep the worst of the day's heat at bay. On the other, the scent of blood was sure to attract less.....desireable neighbors. "Bloody hell, I may as well see what it is that's goin on there, seein as how it's goin tae keep me moving on...." the stallion finally decided, walking in the direction the blood scent was comming from.

It wasn't long before the sorce of both scents became apparent, as he spied not one but two others, both mares, the lighter colored one giving off both scents. The reason quickly became apparent to him, one of her fores was trapped in an old bear trap. *Looks like she scraped it raw trying tae get out of it too*. She was lucky it hadn't broken her leg when it closed, as they usually do. Why it was here he didn't know, but from the look of the trap, it had been here for some time now. Florian walked up to both mres, trying to come up where they could see him. The last thing he wanted was to be kicked in the dial. "Well lass, seems ye've run intae a bit of trouble there. Fortunatly, I should be able to help......" he said, the accent of his far off homeland apparent in his speech.

[CrazySparkles]

Windrunner, in fright, collapsed as the sound of another voice touched her ears. She scrambled to gather her weight beneath her shaking body in an attempt to flee, but only managed to dig deep ruts in the ground with her flailing legs. Tears streamed down her face as she twisted her neck to the newcomer, her black nostrils fluttering with absolute horror.

"P...please," she begged. Her lips quivered. "I....I didn't mean to trespass!" The mare began to choke on her own tears. "I was just...I was just so thirsty!"

The trap rattled as she pushed her hind end into the air, only to fall to the Earth again with a heartwrenching scream. Her leg wasn't broken, as she imagined it should have been, but the rusted points were scraping her cannon to the bone.

She couldn't gather her thoughts quickly enough. Here she was, completely defenseless and vulnerable in the presence of one...no...now two horses. They would beat her to her death, no doubt, just like all the others had tried to do. The only thing that had ever saved her was her endurance and speed when she took flight, and now she was crippled.

Windrunner bit her lip so hard the corners of her mouth began to bleed. She rolled onto her white side like a submissive dog and violently lashed out with her hind legs. She wouldn't die without a fight. She had to fight.

Her sky blue eyes jerked towards the feathered brute. Mare against mare, maybe she had a chance even laying down...but her body would not be able to withstand an assault from the stallion's massive hooves. Their words, in her opinion, seethed with deception and lies. How many other had gained her trust only to attack, rape her, and leave her for dead?

"You!" she sputtered towards the direction of the Gypsy, blood from her mouth splattering her own gleaming, sweaty shoulder. "You stay away! I'm not interested!"

She began to kick again in a panicked frenzy with her good three legs.

"Leave me alone!"

[steeljaw36]

Florian winced, laying his auds back at the mare's scream. "Lass, ye keep screaming like that, you're sure to attract something that actually means ye harm!" he replied. "An stop thrashing around like that, yer lucky the trap didnae break your leg, but if ye keep doing that, you will break it!"

Florian didn't want to risk getting close to the struggling mare's kicks. She was clearly panicked, although he had no idea why. He looked to the other mare standing nearby. "Lass, maybe she'll let you near enough to help. Take a look at what's holding her, there should be a small flat plate next to the jaws. Step on that an' it'll release her leg! Hurry lass, afore she breaks her leg!"