(Small version of reference) Death's Entrance is designed by Skysmoke. He existed as a concept that I had in my head for a while, but I just couldn't bring myself to let the idea flourish due to the challenging tribal markings. Thankfully, with the expertise of Skysmoke and the use of my ideas, Death was finally able to grow into a cherished character. I absolutely LOVE him and I will NEVER get rid of him. Design (c) to Skysmoke, concept and character (c) to me.
Name: Death's Entrance/Death
Age: 19
Gender: Stallion (♂)
Breed: Halloween Hunter
Personality: Death is a daydreamer. Always wanting to do something out of the ordinary, he is the sort of stallion with his 'head-in-the-clouds' and tends to miss other things that are quite important. What ever he has isn't good enough. He always has to have something else better because he is never satisfied. So what does he do? Well, Death is confrontational to the point of it affecting his relationships with others. He is honest, but his temper sometimes gets the better of him. Death is quite hard to get a hold of as he is also very reserved. Although he is honest about most things, he will never fall short of telling people too much about himself. Even though he might seem like he is a bit dim-witted, you are quite mistaken, Death is one of those who always likes to take a step back, and survey things before leaping into situations that are quite sticky. He is also incredibly crafty. He received the Ying-Yang necklace off of a carer in the Sudden Death Herd as a gift. When he needs guidance/help, he confides in this necklace's magic and power. He has always gained support and superior knowledge from it. Death is very defiant, and prefer's to be in his gang with the rest of his comrades; Raphael, Imp and Osiris.
One thing that Death has never told anybody is the fact that he was created in a scientific lab, escaping by the skin of his teeth. He wouldn't ever forgive himself if people were to find out what a big lie he has been living.
History: It wasn't much of a story to tell... At first. Just a normal jet-black colt sauntering around his mother lazily, living the good life and being fairly relaxed. It was only until the humans wanted more from the animal world that things changed for Death. Dark and bitter it was, one Winter night. Death shivered a little as the temperature dropped. The cold crisp air made his breath steam up in the wide-open stall. The wind's loud howling outside rattled the old rooftop of the farm building, almost until it was bending in half. Nevertheless, it didn't unnerve the little colt, or his mother. The only thing that did irk him or his mother though, was the unfamiliar sound of human voices. Not his owner's voices, or the workers voices, but some other stranger voices muttering in the midst of the wind and darkness.
"So how much then Johnny? Eh? 'Bout fifty for the colt n' 'undred for the mother? Or shall we leave the mother and take this 'ere colt?"
The monster's strong, Yorkshire voice was quite muffled, but sounded clear enough to tell that they were not here for a good reason. Death took another few steps back, and hid behind his mothers body, backing up so much that he was pressing his rear end up into the wooden walls of the stall, hoping that they would not spot him in the shadows.
"Hmmm. Let's take the colt for fifty. I think he will make a good show-horse. He'll be useless to plough the fields for harvest-season. Making him work like a dog would be unfair." There was a long pause filled with silence, the humans were debating their options. "Or we could take him to the lab and test on him. See what the little blighter is worth, eh?" This particular voice mustered a strong-English accent, that was 'well-spoken'.
"Alright then, Sam, I'll take this 'ere youngster for fifty."
Death stood silently, holding his breath while he stared at the huge looming shadows towering over him. He figured it out quite quickly that these were meant to be his new owners. As the man grabbed a halter, and lunged for the foal, trying to yank at his mane, Death fought back, trying to reach his screaming mother. Her distressed calls were loud, but would it be loud enough to wake the farm-owners? Probably not, their house was up way over the hill, so any loud noises weren't to be heard. Death's little mind couldn't take this all this arousement, and started to panic, trembling with fear. Though it all happened to quickly. As the two humans realized it was going to be a hard job, they didn't waste any time-the unknown man took out a gun, and fired a sleeping dart into Death's mother's flank, knocking her out cold, her legs straightened as she tensed, and as she went to attack the humans, the dart made impact. Her legs then buckled and her body hit the ground like a rag-doll. Not even a single twitch of her muzzle, or a blink of her eye. Death was almost choked with fear now as he faced the two humans who stared at him hungrily. Another moment of conversation persisted.
"Sorry mate, she'd be the one holdin' us up, so I knocked 'er out with a dart-gun. Probably be out for a 'couple hours." The Yorkshire-man's voice cropped up again, it was unmistakable. There was an awkward silence following on, and then another mutter, which the colt couldn't quite make out. But as soon as he turned round to face the light, the gun was held towards his flank. BANG! Death squealed a little, his eye-sight turning slightly blurry before he felt sleepy, his eyes closed and blackness snatched away the last bit of remaining conciousness...
...
Bright lights flooded the room, sickly white and blinding to the senses. The young horse squinted as he came around, feeling drowzy and ill. Death finally opened his eyes fully, waking up to find himself in shackles, lying sprawled out quite uncomfortably on a hard metallic surface, with a sickening array of needles that could be seen placed on a tray besides him.
Panic struck Death as he struggled to breathe properly. The room was stuffy, and the anticipation and strange environment was beginning to take its toll.
Taking time, Death's thoughts settled eventually, allowing him the freedom not to flip out. He focused on finding inner peace within his mind... tranquillity... But this was all disturbed when the lab door burst open, with his new owners alongside a doctor, walking in to the room with strange, upturned expressions.
There was something about doctor's which Death didn't like. Perhaps it was the way the dressed? Not everybody appreciated a pushy individual with a mask over their face. However, it wasn't only their appearance that was strange, but the atmosphere too; melancholy, depressing...
He shivered just like the time when he was last with his mother. Oh how he yearned for her right at this minute, constantly wondering where she was, constantly calling out to her to save him from this nightmare. Is she okay? Did she escape? Where is she? But it was useless. She would never know where her son was. Not here, at least. Not in this room of hell.
...
One of the large needles was selected off of the tray by the doctor, who was watching him in a twisted sort of excitement. Slyly, the young colt noticed that he was trembling as he exchanged equipment and handled the substances in the test-tubes, which were brought forwards on a separate steel-tray, and set down on a tall, solid table-unit the other side of Death. The doctor filled up the large needle with a certain substance which represented that of a sickly neon-green and blue substance. He shook it violently, grinning as the liquid began to glow. He testing the syringe thoroughly to see if it worked.
Death stared in terror, pressing his ears flat against his skull. Struggling to break free with no success, Death screamed out, fighting out of frustration and fear against the shackles. The doctor turned to him, attempting to calm him down, before strapping his neck and head securely into place, inserting the needle quickly. He pushed down on the syringe and the liquid raced inside of the flesh.
It seemed like years since Death woke up again, but something was odd. He didn't feel himself any more. Had he been changed? Had he been killed? Was he in heaven? Realisation was grim, he was still in this house of horrors, this room of hell. Instead of being back safely in the barn with his mother, the colt that once jet black was still defencelessly lying on the shiny metal table, his markings represented that of an unnatural neon-green tribal pattern, with blue, green and purple mixed mane and tail, green face and neck, and black-tribal markings on both of his eyes and muzzle. It reminded the colt about the edges of a sword. The tribal markings seemed to behold the quality of curled and curved edges, eventually forming into sharp and deadly ends. Even the markings seemed to have a mind of their own.
Death blinked, his strong baby-blue eyes flickering from side to side. They glowed along with his emotions.
...
When Death grew accustomed to his new abilities, slowly adapting to his super strength, and amazing power, he found a way to break out of the 'prison' which once tested on animals. The place was full of malice. He didn't want to be anywhere near this environment, so Death decided to run away, off into the unknown, where his DNA could never be traced.
Nothing was ever heard of Death. The humans had indeed lost a valuable experiment, but the miraculous discovery of how their most prized colt escaping just didn't make any sense. It was bizarre, obsurd. The story of how the 'Wonder Horse' escaped the prison of animal testing had reached the big-time newspapers and magazines. It was all there. Pictures of the colt, and pictures of how he was transformed were all contained within.
Death soon forgot about his mother. She yearned for her little colt, every day in the field of Sam's home. Sauntering up and down the fence rails, calling out to her son all the time. She sometimes liked to believe that Death was actually responding to her. Of course though, you always have to wake up from your dreams... They never last, and she'd wake up everyday the same. Not only that, but along with Death's transformation, became a 'dulling of the senses'. His memory, the older he became, faded, until it was just a mere nightmare in his dreams. It was like nothing ever existed in the past. Amnesia... He sometimes thought that there was no past and no future. No place in this world for a misfit like him.
...
After about 7 years of being on the run from the humans, Death had found peace in an undisturbed part of the world where his new beginning in a new herd lie. It seemed like forever since he last thought about his past. How he once was world-famous for his great escape. However, like mentioned, he had forgotten about his ordeals in the testing unit. It was like he was born this way.
Of course, people always became saddened by the fact that Death was an artificial creation. He wasn't born a supernatural horse. He was born as a mortal being on a normal farm. Probably bred for country shows and nothing more.
That was the biggest secret.
When Killer took him in to work for Sudden Death, Death always made sure he never told ANYBODY about his past. He just acted as though nothing else had happened, and before he knew it, nothing else except this 'supernatural horse' existed.
Current Living Status: The Sudden Death Herd
Mood: Foggy-minded, easy-going, focused, strangely complicated and imaginative, determined.
Other: The Ying-Yang necklace was a gift from one of the carer's in the Sudden Death herd.
NO COPYING THE DESIGN, STORY OR ANYTHING ELSE! STORY AND CHARACTER COPYRIGHT TO ME!
DESIGN (C) TO SKYSMOKE, DESIGN CONCEPT (C) TO ME
Age: 19
Gender: Stallion (♂)
Breed: Halloween Hunter
Personality: Death is a daydreamer. Always wanting to do something out of the ordinary, he is the sort of stallion with his 'head-in-the-clouds' and tends to miss other things that are quite important. What ever he has isn't good enough. He always has to have something else better because he is never satisfied. So what does he do? Well, Death is confrontational to the point of it affecting his relationships with others. He is honest, but his temper sometimes gets the better of him. Death is quite hard to get a hold of as he is also very reserved. Although he is honest about most things, he will never fall short of telling people too much about himself. Even though he might seem like he is a bit dim-witted, you are quite mistaken, Death is one of those who always likes to take a step back, and survey things before leaping into situations that are quite sticky. He is also incredibly crafty. He received the Ying-Yang necklace off of a carer in the Sudden Death Herd as a gift. When he needs guidance/help, he confides in this necklace's magic and power. He has always gained support and superior knowledge from it. Death is very defiant, and prefer's to be in his gang with the rest of his comrades; Raphael, Imp and Osiris.
One thing that Death has never told anybody is the fact that he was created in a scientific lab, escaping by the skin of his teeth. He wouldn't ever forgive himself if people were to find out what a big lie he has been living.
History: It wasn't much of a story to tell... At first. Just a normal jet-black colt sauntering around his mother lazily, living the good life and being fairly relaxed. It was only until the humans wanted more from the animal world that things changed for Death. Dark and bitter it was, one Winter night. Death shivered a little as the temperature dropped. The cold crisp air made his breath steam up in the wide-open stall. The wind's loud howling outside rattled the old rooftop of the farm building, almost until it was bending in half. Nevertheless, it didn't unnerve the little colt, or his mother. The only thing that did irk him or his mother though, was the unfamiliar sound of human voices. Not his owner's voices, or the workers voices, but some other stranger voices muttering in the midst of the wind and darkness.
"So how much then Johnny? Eh? 'Bout fifty for the colt n' 'undred for the mother? Or shall we leave the mother and take this 'ere colt?"
The monster's strong, Yorkshire voice was quite muffled, but sounded clear enough to tell that they were not here for a good reason. Death took another few steps back, and hid behind his mothers body, backing up so much that he was pressing his rear end up into the wooden walls of the stall, hoping that they would not spot him in the shadows.
"Hmmm. Let's take the colt for fifty. I think he will make a good show-horse. He'll be useless to plough the fields for harvest-season. Making him work like a dog would be unfair." There was a long pause filled with silence, the humans were debating their options. "Or we could take him to the lab and test on him. See what the little blighter is worth, eh?" This particular voice mustered a strong-English accent, that was 'well-spoken'.
"Alright then, Sam, I'll take this 'ere youngster for fifty."
Death stood silently, holding his breath while he stared at the huge looming shadows towering over him. He figured it out quite quickly that these were meant to be his new owners. As the man grabbed a halter, and lunged for the foal, trying to yank at his mane, Death fought back, trying to reach his screaming mother. Her distressed calls were loud, but would it be loud enough to wake the farm-owners? Probably not, their house was up way over the hill, so any loud noises weren't to be heard. Death's little mind couldn't take this all this arousement, and started to panic, trembling with fear. Though it all happened to quickly. As the two humans realized it was going to be a hard job, they didn't waste any time-the unknown man took out a gun, and fired a sleeping dart into Death's mother's flank, knocking her out cold, her legs straightened as she tensed, and as she went to attack the humans, the dart made impact. Her legs then buckled and her body hit the ground like a rag-doll. Not even a single twitch of her muzzle, or a blink of her eye. Death was almost choked with fear now as he faced the two humans who stared at him hungrily. Another moment of conversation persisted.
"Sorry mate, she'd be the one holdin' us up, so I knocked 'er out with a dart-gun. Probably be out for a 'couple hours." The Yorkshire-man's voice cropped up again, it was unmistakable. There was an awkward silence following on, and then another mutter, which the colt couldn't quite make out. But as soon as he turned round to face the light, the gun was held towards his flank. BANG! Death squealed a little, his eye-sight turning slightly blurry before he felt sleepy, his eyes closed and blackness snatched away the last bit of remaining conciousness...
...
Bright lights flooded the room, sickly white and blinding to the senses. The young horse squinted as he came around, feeling drowzy and ill. Death finally opened his eyes fully, waking up to find himself in shackles, lying sprawled out quite uncomfortably on a hard metallic surface, with a sickening array of needles that could be seen placed on a tray besides him.
Panic struck Death as he struggled to breathe properly. The room was stuffy, and the anticipation and strange environment was beginning to take its toll.
Taking time, Death's thoughts settled eventually, allowing him the freedom not to flip out. He focused on finding inner peace within his mind... tranquillity... But this was all disturbed when the lab door burst open, with his new owners alongside a doctor, walking in to the room with strange, upturned expressions.
There was something about doctor's which Death didn't like. Perhaps it was the way the dressed? Not everybody appreciated a pushy individual with a mask over their face. However, it wasn't only their appearance that was strange, but the atmosphere too; melancholy, depressing...
He shivered just like the time when he was last with his mother. Oh how he yearned for her right at this minute, constantly wondering where she was, constantly calling out to her to save him from this nightmare. Is she okay? Did she escape? Where is she? But it was useless. She would never know where her son was. Not here, at least. Not in this room of hell.
...
One of the large needles was selected off of the tray by the doctor, who was watching him in a twisted sort of excitement. Slyly, the young colt noticed that he was trembling as he exchanged equipment and handled the substances in the test-tubes, which were brought forwards on a separate steel-tray, and set down on a tall, solid table-unit the other side of Death. The doctor filled up the large needle with a certain substance which represented that of a sickly neon-green and blue substance. He shook it violently, grinning as the liquid began to glow. He testing the syringe thoroughly to see if it worked.
Death stared in terror, pressing his ears flat against his skull. Struggling to break free with no success, Death screamed out, fighting out of frustration and fear against the shackles. The doctor turned to him, attempting to calm him down, before strapping his neck and head securely into place, inserting the needle quickly. He pushed down on the syringe and the liquid raced inside of the flesh.
It seemed like years since Death woke up again, but something was odd. He didn't feel himself any more. Had he been changed? Had he been killed? Was he in heaven? Realisation was grim, he was still in this house of horrors, this room of hell. Instead of being back safely in the barn with his mother, the colt that once jet black was still defencelessly lying on the shiny metal table, his markings represented that of an unnatural neon-green tribal pattern, with blue, green and purple mixed mane and tail, green face and neck, and black-tribal markings on both of his eyes and muzzle. It reminded the colt about the edges of a sword. The tribal markings seemed to behold the quality of curled and curved edges, eventually forming into sharp and deadly ends. Even the markings seemed to have a mind of their own.
Death blinked, his strong baby-blue eyes flickering from side to side. They glowed along with his emotions.
...
When Death grew accustomed to his new abilities, slowly adapting to his super strength, and amazing power, he found a way to break out of the 'prison' which once tested on animals. The place was full of malice. He didn't want to be anywhere near this environment, so Death decided to run away, off into the unknown, where his DNA could never be traced.
Nothing was ever heard of Death. The humans had indeed lost a valuable experiment, but the miraculous discovery of how their most prized colt escaping just didn't make any sense. It was bizarre, obsurd. The story of how the 'Wonder Horse' escaped the prison of animal testing had reached the big-time newspapers and magazines. It was all there. Pictures of the colt, and pictures of how he was transformed were all contained within.
Death soon forgot about his mother. She yearned for her little colt, every day in the field of Sam's home. Sauntering up and down the fence rails, calling out to her son all the time. She sometimes liked to believe that Death was actually responding to her. Of course though, you always have to wake up from your dreams... They never last, and she'd wake up everyday the same. Not only that, but along with Death's transformation, became a 'dulling of the senses'. His memory, the older he became, faded, until it was just a mere nightmare in his dreams. It was like nothing ever existed in the past. Amnesia... He sometimes thought that there was no past and no future. No place in this world for a misfit like him.
...
After about 7 years of being on the run from the humans, Death had found peace in an undisturbed part of the world where his new beginning in a new herd lie. It seemed like forever since he last thought about his past. How he once was world-famous for his great escape. However, like mentioned, he had forgotten about his ordeals in the testing unit. It was like he was born this way.
Of course, people always became saddened by the fact that Death was an artificial creation. He wasn't born a supernatural horse. He was born as a mortal being on a normal farm. Probably bred for country shows and nothing more.
That was the biggest secret.
When Killer took him in to work for Sudden Death, Death always made sure he never told ANYBODY about his past. He just acted as though nothing else had happened, and before he knew it, nothing else except this 'supernatural horse' existed.
Current Living Status: The Sudden Death Herd
Mood: Foggy-minded, easy-going, focused, strangely complicated and imaginative, determined.
Other: The Ying-Yang necklace was a gift from one of the carer's in the Sudden Death herd.
NO COPYING THE DESIGN, STORY OR ANYTHING ELSE! STORY AND CHARACTER COPYRIGHT TO ME!
DESIGN (C) TO SKYSMOKE, DESIGN CONCEPT (C) TO ME