King name: Twisted Criminal
Personality: Criminal is violent, but only in his mind. He doesn't believe in spilling innocent blood without a cause, and even with a cause, he doesn't understand the point in defying the laws of nature as an equine to go on an all-out killing spree on those who are pronounced "deserving to die". He has an odd amount of patience and is rather laid back however, and finds equines who don't use their right mind or resolve to conflict to get their own ways are a waste of his time. He does not see himself higher than anyone else, though refuses to be seen as nothing. Because his personality is really a conflict in itself, I guess we should just divide it and explain from there.

VIOLENCE- He'd probably be a murderous son of a pregnant dog if he couldn't control himself, and I'm sure he'd even destroy those that he loved. Better hope you don't get him too pissed off, eh?

PATIENCE- He doesn't like acting, well, foalish. He likes mind games and strategies, and would probably be right up there to take a position as a general if you asked him. Although he doesn't like killing without reason, and does not think of himself better than anyone else, he does not want to be known as simply "Criminal", and he believes that positions should be earned, and not given. And if so given, to be earned through blood so that you are worthy of it.
Breed: Mustang
Color: Buckskin
Age: Seven
Picture: Click
Create a post which will be judged: Ah, Avalon - the glorious place located in the land of Cimarron. Crowded to the brim with equines of many different characters, so full that inbreeding had begun to occur in the latter years. I, of course, never experienced such things. As a fickle youngster my dame had held me close to her side, mostly hiding within the grasslands of my grandsire yet occasionaly going out 'into the world'. The 'world' merely being The Mountain. Ah, it had been such a beautiful place. Dark, dismal and perfect. I had always marveled upon the rocky outcrops near the bottom, stained with blood and a scattering of bleach white bones strung out in the mists. The Mountain of Death, as I had always come to think of it. My dame had wondered at it always, gone there to think and contemplate her status. Ah, sweet mother. If only she could see me now. You see, Tool had chosen to leave Avalon with my grandsire when i was but a yearling - yes, of course, i tagged along - and most might call it a good move. I of course, did not. But then, I knew nothing about the destruction of my homelands. Until now, of course.

Jagged obsidian daggers moved slowly over the equally dark ground. A bit of confusion donned the brute's mask as he moved forward at a sedate pace, optics taking in the horrid sight before him. What had happened? The top of the mountain was completely gone, lava rock littered what was left of it, as well as the surrounding area. Confusion turned to sadness, sadness to anger. What had any of them done to be punished by mother nature so? She had exploded and ruined her own beautiful terra for what, a few suicides and murders? Worthless. Midnight coated steed moved on with careful steps over the uneven terrain, towards the heart of the mess. No more bones, nothing. Davits in the lava rock made show of where occasional lava flows moved down the mountain in a steady reminder of what happened. The sickening crunch of hoof on brittle rocks might remind one of a skull being crushed, and such sounds brought the stallion to a halt.

Now what? I had returned in hopes of finding my sire and reconnecting, but how might one survive a mountains explosion? Is there even life to be found here any longer? Perhaps...or not. Yet if all is lost, perhaps I shall leave and return with a harem..I had passed through many lands coming back to Avalon. And then I shall be king..yes..That could be pleasant..

Thoughts riddled through the stallion's head as daggers picked up movement at a jumbled yet swift trot. Listeners flopped side to side, forward and back as he moved - listening for any sign of life that had survived the explosion. Trees were stubs of char, ash still littered the ground. Coming from the western side of the mountain, he had missed much of where life had lived; a few light lands and the crystal river. Yet soon the rocky ground began to give way to dirt, and dirt began to show shoots of greenery. So, life had survived. On Criminal traveled, and the burnt out pines soon gave way to lively stalks, new and old. And so the black steed moved into the trees, coming upon a gentle valley of green. Wildflowers shot up in various clumps and birds sang little songs. A glance at the sun told the brute it was not yet the highest hour, but close. Travelers slowed to a sedate pace once more so optics may try to remember just where he was. Southwest of the mountains top,..the breeding grounds? A queer look flitted across features before nostrils sucked in deeply..Nothing. Autumn air, was all. A grunt was spat out and crown dropped to bury mug into the greenery. Upper lip displaced some dirt, before coming back up. Wrong, he was wrong. There had been horses here perhaps as recently as this spring. So, some had survived, and survived to breed even - yet none were here. Feeling no need to tary, he moved on once more at his ground-eating trot. Trying to remember where he would find himself next. When the stallion had last seen this place he was just a bug-eyed yearling. Minutes flew past as the sun ticked away in the hazy sky, and by the time he slowed to a halt it had risen to it's highest point. A pest buzzed past listeners and the stallion tossed his head. Forelock was displaced away from midnight optics to allow sight into the empty field below. Once the Orodruin had been pest filled, boggy, smelly swamp - now a dried up vale stood in its place. Dry weeds cropped up in a few places, and to the far side Criminal decided there was a crik where once it had been a mire. Slowly the stallion slid down the slope into the vale, daggers kicking up the pale dry dust.

This is what has become of Avalon..chaos. Destruction. Who has survived? The thoughts spun around and around in his head, optics sweeping from side to side. No other equine was in sight, yet like the breeding grounds smells abounded. The air was a bit on the cool side and a breeze whipped through the empty vale, driving the dust up and whipping it this way and that. A sigh slowly emitted from the black. While he smiled life, he certainly saw none.
[That is a post with the SAME character from another site.]