.Tagore.you'resick;&&;

Guest

((TAGORE))
picture goes here
will be played by {elfhorse}

(where can i turn )
the face behind the mask

name:

age:

how did you find Paradox?

anything else you'd like to add?

(cause i need something more)
the basics

full name:

nicknames:

age:

gender:

species:

breed:

in the world:

(surrounded by uncertainty)
appearance a smothered coat with no shaggy hairs or anything out of place. This handsome bastard is anything but the romeo that most people see by looking at his pretty boi looks. No one would expect the demon that's contained;;

body:

hair/coat/fur:

eyes:

face:

accessories:

(i'm so unsure )
personality something that's hard to explain with this one. He's satan and all the things worse locked into the shape of a horse. All things dark attract him and too many light horses around him will set off a killing rage;;

sorry if not very good. Maybe the sample post will help you understand my demon better;;

likes:

dislikes:

aspirations:

fears:

5 words:

overall personality:

(tell me why I. . .)
history

family:

pet's best friend:

might [i]be

overall history:

only

(feel so alone)
final touches

RP sample:

Quote (Musefull):

I sit in the back of the beast’s mind, in the static of the unconscious thought, waiting and watching and planning—as I always do. I have been steering the creature known as Tagore from the first moment the birth sac was pierced and his maniacal mother saw fit to lower herself to clean her babe off. From his first breath I was inhaled, infecting the tiny brain that seeped up the information about this world it had been cast into while fighting to arrange the long tangled limbs it was graced with. From the moment the spark of life stood and gazed into the dangerously intelligent eyes of his mother and understood that his name was Tagore and that he was born into the greatest legacy known to his kind… from then on I had been a part of him, tugging on nerves and pulling strings. I conducted the hormones, changed the chemical balance. I took what would have been a powerful leader, a sick minded freak of a stallion… and I made him worse.

It is all about being subtle, you see. Just like I do not merely have him laugh at your pitiful attempts to hide your true nature, to deny the very essence of your blood from yourself. I do not let him know, just yet, what it is that makes you tick, enjoying watching his mind and thoughts as they twist and contort in effort to figure out what it was about you that made him claim you. There is always a reason, of course, always some underlying darkness, a vicious nature or cruel intention. There is always something… and he figures it out eventually.

Amusement flickers in the bloodstream like foxfire, ghostly sparks that work their way through his system as his new addition takes hold of his sarcasm and tosses it back at him without hesitation. Some mares would submit themselves, others would stand in open defiance… but the best would match him word for word, and he was fitting in oh, so nicely.

There are many reasons for the many names that follow around Hell’s favorite demon. He is called blood and bone, tyrannosaurus rex, hyena, the bastard… many, many things, but it is that first one that is the most interesting as it was the first. For all that he is splendid, there is truly nothing terribly fantastic about a piebald. They are, plainly, a black horse with white markings, no different from any other such horse in the black family. But Tagore is different… he fell into that odd category of black and chestnut that could truly be called red and many who no longer frequent the area had rumored that it was from the blood of his victims, that he painted himself in their blood after he killed them…

Silly of them, really.

By the time Tagore was finished with one his playthings all the blood was already on him.

He continued his sauntering until a certain point when he finally stopped. He had reached the mountain when in his thoughts, I crawled out and gave him a big whop. He went in search of El Loco. Now they would discuss their treaty and hopefully succeed.

Quote(norma)l:

He stood, blowing those delicate strands between his eyes to the side. He watched as the flames danced across his domain. It was such a beauty, the flames. Licking those pitiful things of their lives. His domain was to become that of a nightmare. Those who entered were to either stay loyal or leave half dead and cursed forevermore. That's when his eyes picked out that of a trespasser. He carried the same scent as the other half of the burning plains. Tagore chuckled in the way he does. But he is not called demonic for nothing—it is not innocence that runs rampant through this beast’s veins but any gruesome toxins you could imagine and the tone slides off with ease, brushed aside like the whispers of spider webs on your face. He felt a urge to just come up and confront him, but instead, he took a nice detour and began to examine this critter.

His loping stride carried him easily to the nearby smoke. There he hid his splattered body as the stallion approached. His stance and way of walk was indeed screaming anger. Tagore would have liked to put him under glass and examine the little critter, all the while tormenting him with toothpicks and, after he had had his fun, he's toss 'im down the toilet and go onto the next specimen that caught his eyes. Instead, though, Tagore was left to examine him from a distance. As his smooth voice carried into the painted ears, a joker smile spread across his demonic face and he set off again- his loping gait all the more casual. His face turned towards the new specimen. All the while, he searched him for any tensions that would show instant attack and no diddling talk. He saw few, but there were a few there. He kept on his toes, ready to toss himself to the side and then lash out with his hooves at the first encounter.

Tagore pricked his ears and growled sweetly. What a temper his neighbor had. And what a adorable roar, too. He loped his way up behind him. With a devious grin, he began to laugh. What better way to make himself known? The only way he could have known the devil was there was that distinctive cackle and the crunching of the pitiful grounds. The flames were just another addition to his land. He enjoyed it much. It helped him hide his presence and smell. He could be just strides away, and the only way they could have known he was there was if they saw him which wasn't as easily done as said. He looked him over again and then spread his maw apart to expose his once bloodstained killers.

"Ah, my lad, what business do you have calling me? I prefer hearing screams, not little giggles from others. Now, what do you mean my kind, my son, for I haven't seen any of those since I've came to these lands,"He grinned at Stormshadow with another one of those dreadful smiles he showed off. "Or do you mean those who call themselves darks that really aren't. Since you are refering to me as the "other kind", I take it as you're a little pitiful "light", right? Well, my son, I think we're underestimated each other, haven't we? I mean, you. I don't intend to do any business with you, if that's what you want. Oh, and I forgot to remind you, I don't like intruders. I prefer to kill them on the spot or send them screaming and crying with a pack of hounds on their heels. So what'll it be? A burning or a killing? I'm being quite gracious right now, you know. Or must I remind you to be nice to your allies and nicer to your enemies?"

Another Grin. Another Smile. A tilt of his top hat. He took another puff of that thing that was harming his lungs and then waited for his reply. He hoped for something entertaining from this critter for he was already bored enough as is, and if he didn't get good effects, he'd send him running home. And fast.

member title:

read the rules?

the last word:

.Paradox.

.Tagore.you'resick;&&;

.Tagore.you'resick;&&;