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Post by [P] h e o n i x on Sept 8, 2009 12:18:36 GMT -8
Name :: Asteria [ as - tear - ree - yuh ]Named after :: Asteria, in Greek mythology, was the Titan goddess of the oracles and prophecies of night, including prophetic dreams, the reading of the stars (astrology), and necromancy.
Alliance: Neutral
Age :: 4
Breed :: Arabian with some traces of Paints a ways back in her lineage.
Gender :: Female
Color :: She's white with blue eyes, and this is because she basically has a bald face, like paints do, and so she simply looks entirely white. If that makes any sense.. plus, she has a single large black paint marking on her left shoulder.
Markings :: White bald face, except you can't tell it's there.
Height :: 14.3
Personality :: Asteria has learned that it is best to speak little and learn much, so when you first meet her she is generally very quiet and attentive. She knows when to speak and when to just keep her mouth shut, but when faced with a conversation where she has a different view from yours, she will not hesitate to voice her opinion. She's almost always laid back and considerate, and she deals with rudeness quite well. She's not one to get angry for no good reason, but she is not quick to forgive and it's incredibly hard to gain her trust.She tends to stick to the more quiet, solitary corners of the world. She has a serious fear of males, and that's for good reason.
History :: To say that Asteria has been pushed around most of her life would be an extreme understatement. In fact, the only reason she was alive today was because of a demand for exquisite, quiet, obedient females, a demand that others had started to supply even before she was born. More or less, she was born into a twisted form of slavery. She’d never known her mother, for it was not allowed that the mare have contact with the foal for longer than the first half hour of their life. This was to keep bonds from being made and to prevent a rebellion from the birth mothers. To make this possible, an even number of mares gave birth at around the same time, and foals were swapped constantly, never staying with one surrogate mother for too long. With this kind of upbringing, Asteria learned that the only one she could trust in was herself. To her, this was entirely normal. Nothing seemed abnormal or strange about it, so she grew up without grudges against her “parent”. However, her father was a strong but cruel influence in her life. He was constantly forcing her into submission, teaching her that males were always to be respected and to think of them before she thought of herself. She’d always known this was wrong, but only once had she voiced her opinion.
It was among the first few weeks after her becoming weaned that this occurred, and she would never forget it. Her father had taken her with him on one of his daily journeys to the outskirts of his land, and this was considered to be a great honor. Asteria went with pride and excitement, and she tried to strike up conversations with him. He, however, scolded her with a bite to the shoulder and an onslaught of cursing, and she soon realized this was no simple walk with her father. He began to talk of how she must always keep her mouth shut, how she should obey without hesitation when told to do something, no matter how horrific. She’d never forget one of his comments; Never forget, my darling Asteria, that you are bellow everyone else, and that you will never amount to anything more than a slave for the rest of your life. He’d said it in a sick, sweet way, and after the words were spoken he gave an obviously fake smile. She wanted to please him. Of course she did. What child does not seek praise in the eye of their guardian? What one can shut off the desire to illustrate a sign demonstrate something like, hey, look at me, I can do it all on my own! It is impossible to ignore it, but Asteria had been young and unaware of her father’s want to mold her into a slave. So, without much thought to the matter, she’d told him that was stupid and that he was wrong in an attitude laced voice. After that trip, she’d come home with blood staining her neck and a limp in her gait.
She never trusted anyone after that day.
She had, however, done what she was supposed to. Or, well, at least in some sense she had. She kept her mouth shut, never spoke a word when not spoken to first, and she did what she was told. That didn’t keep the resentment from building in her chest like a fire when she was pushed around or disregarded. After awhile though, she began to simply endure it without a fight, and she became entirely used to it. But soon she learned what she was going to be traded for. Her father owned quite an expanse of land, miles and miles of jade grass with plenty of water. His was a much sought after territory, and he had enemies to the north, south, and west sides of him. The southern leader made a deal with my father; five young females each year in return for protection and the promise to never turn on him. In his situation, my father had no other choice but to accept. Asteria along with four other mares were sent down to the marshlands, and that was when the worst part of her life began.
The majority of the population were young, reckless stallions, and the few mares that were there were scarred and bloody when she arrived. Pleasure was something none too unfamiliar to the males, and the only thing that kept her from their grips was that the King had taken a definite liking towards her. He was just as horrible, if not worse, than the young combat familiarized colts that would take any opportunity to take her for themselves. She was taken with Asixeryl, the King, everywhere he went, and he never let her slip from his gaze. It proved difficult to find any means of escape, so for a year and a half, Asteria was subjected to whatever the stallion’s requests were, whether it be to provide pleasure, or even to see how well she would fare in combat. She was two and a half when a war began between her father and the south and west, and Asixeryl and his army had to leave without preparation when a messenger came and demanded his contribution to the war. This, she realized, was perhaps the only way she was going to ever escape. It was easy to slip away in the chaos, but she never even thought about helping the others. They knew nothing else but to serve, and had she made them aware of her escape they would have alerted someone immediately. She headed west, not knowing whether or not she’d be captured and treated as a slave again. The only thing she knew that she was going somewhere, and that she hoped to God she’d make it there safe.
By the way, this is a recycled joining post.. I didn't feel the need to rewrite it all =3
Alliance: Neutral
Age :: 4
Breed :: Arabian with some traces of Paints a ways back in her lineage.
Gender :: Female
Color :: She's white with blue eyes, and this is because she basically has a bald face, like paints do, and so she simply looks entirely white. If that makes any sense.. plus, she has a single large black paint marking on her left shoulder.
Markings :: White bald face, except you can't tell it's there.
Height :: 14.3
Personality :: Asteria has learned that it is best to speak little and learn much, so when you first meet her she is generally very quiet and attentive. She knows when to speak and when to just keep her mouth shut, but when faced with a conversation where she has a different view from yours, she will not hesitate to voice her opinion. She's almost always laid back and considerate, and she deals with rudeness quite well. She's not one to get angry for no good reason, but she is not quick to forgive and it's incredibly hard to gain her trust.She tends to stick to the more quiet, solitary corners of the world. She has a serious fear of males, and that's for good reason.
History :: To say that Asteria has been pushed around most of her life would be an extreme understatement. In fact, the only reason she was alive today was because of a demand for exquisite, quiet, obedient females, a demand that others had started to supply even before she was born. More or less, she was born into a twisted form of slavery. She’d never known her mother, for it was not allowed that the mare have contact with the foal for longer than the first half hour of their life. This was to keep bonds from being made and to prevent a rebellion from the birth mothers. To make this possible, an even number of mares gave birth at around the same time, and foals were swapped constantly, never staying with one surrogate mother for too long. With this kind of upbringing, Asteria learned that the only one she could trust in was herself. To her, this was entirely normal. Nothing seemed abnormal or strange about it, so she grew up without grudges against her “parent”. However, her father was a strong but cruel influence in her life. He was constantly forcing her into submission, teaching her that males were always to be respected and to think of them before she thought of herself. She’d always known this was wrong, but only once had she voiced her opinion.
It was among the first few weeks after her becoming weaned that this occurred, and she would never forget it. Her father had taken her with him on one of his daily journeys to the outskirts of his land, and this was considered to be a great honor. Asteria went with pride and excitement, and she tried to strike up conversations with him. He, however, scolded her with a bite to the shoulder and an onslaught of cursing, and she soon realized this was no simple walk with her father. He began to talk of how she must always keep her mouth shut, how she should obey without hesitation when told to do something, no matter how horrific. She’d never forget one of his comments; Never forget, my darling Asteria, that you are bellow everyone else, and that you will never amount to anything more than a slave for the rest of your life. He’d said it in a sick, sweet way, and after the words were spoken he gave an obviously fake smile. She wanted to please him. Of course she did. What child does not seek praise in the eye of their guardian? What one can shut off the desire to illustrate a sign demonstrate something like, hey, look at me, I can do it all on my own! It is impossible to ignore it, but Asteria had been young and unaware of her father’s want to mold her into a slave. So, without much thought to the matter, she’d told him that was stupid and that he was wrong in an attitude laced voice. After that trip, she’d come home with blood staining her neck and a limp in her gait.
She never trusted anyone after that day.
She had, however, done what she was supposed to. Or, well, at least in some sense she had. She kept her mouth shut, never spoke a word when not spoken to first, and she did what she was told. That didn’t keep the resentment from building in her chest like a fire when she was pushed around or disregarded. After awhile though, she began to simply endure it without a fight, and she became entirely used to it. But soon she learned what she was going to be traded for. Her father owned quite an expanse of land, miles and miles of jade grass with plenty of water. His was a much sought after territory, and he had enemies to the north, south, and west sides of him. The southern leader made a deal with my father; five young females each year in return for protection and the promise to never turn on him. In his situation, my father had no other choice but to accept. Asteria along with four other mares were sent down to the marshlands, and that was when the worst part of her life began.
The majority of the population were young, reckless stallions, and the few mares that were there were scarred and bloody when she arrived. Pleasure was something none too unfamiliar to the males, and the only thing that kept her from their grips was that the King had taken a definite liking towards her. He was just as horrible, if not worse, than the young combat familiarized colts that would take any opportunity to take her for themselves. She was taken with Asixeryl, the King, everywhere he went, and he never let her slip from his gaze. It proved difficult to find any means of escape, so for a year and a half, Asteria was subjected to whatever the stallion’s requests were, whether it be to provide pleasure, or even to see how well she would fare in combat. She was two and a half when a war began between her father and the south and west, and Asixeryl and his army had to leave without preparation when a messenger came and demanded his contribution to the war. This, she realized, was perhaps the only way she was going to ever escape. It was easy to slip away in the chaos, but she never even thought about helping the others. They knew nothing else but to serve, and had she made them aware of her escape they would have alerted someone immediately. She headed west, not knowing whether or not she’d be captured and treated as a slave again. The only thing she knew that she was going somewhere, and that she hoped to God she’d make it there safe.
By the way, this is a recycled joining post.. I didn't feel the need to rewrite it all =3
