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11 [Year 493 Winter]








Warmblood mutt


16.3 hh







Last Visit:

09-30-2019, 01:12 PM


Signos: 0 (Donate)
Total Posts: 2 (Find All Posts)
Total Threads: 2 (Find All Threads)

"All that I would cast away

In a choking fog I smother ”

-- -- --
Meridoc is a stallion of rather undetermined lineage; in other words, he is a classic mutt. Tall, yet long-legged and broad-backed, there could possibly be some draft, yet the thick neck belies a more Spanish heritage. His mane is shorn relatively short and shaggy, though seems to be naturally inclined to grow forwards up his neck, rather than laying flat to any one side. His tail too is kept cropped, albeit it's allowed to grow to his fetlocks.

His coat too is a marring of various patterns, a bastard mix of bay, roan, dapples and who only knows what else. He could be considered handsome, in a sense, as his rugged appearance might be appealing to some... if they can get past the stench of fermented fruit and unwashed fur that hangs about him.

"Cycle begins

To atone I will bear the crown ”

-- -- --
Meridoc is... a rather uncouth and rude individual. He's incredibly easy to dislike, and incredibly difficult to like, and he genuinely prefers it that way. He's bristly, foul-mouthed, lazy and all manner of self-indulgent, and though he has a rather sharp sense of humor and wit it's more often than not used to mock others, rather than make others laugh. He despises what he sees as weakness or naivete, and is not above making rather sour and sharp remarks to deflate such naive hopes and dreams of others. He's a bitter, snappish stud, ill-mannered and rugged in more than just looks.

There's a soft core to this jagged stallion, something he has hidden behind his barbed wit and bitterness. It shines through on occasion, and typically the longer one spends around him, the more obvious his self becomes. Beneath the indulgent, arrogant asshole is someone who's in mourning, who suffers from quite possibly the worst 'hero complex', and who takes too much blame upon his broad shoulders. He's tender hearted, easily swayed by the plight of others, and despite what he would have you believe, he does want to protect the naivete of others, though he finds his bitterness also rather difficult to rein in.

To those he can call friend, he's a terribly ridiculous companion. He's goofy, prone to really, really bad humor, and somewhat of a snarky pain in the ass. But when help is needed, he's there through thick and thin, and doesn't waver at all in his conviction to stand beside his friends.

"Drain the spirit of its colour

Bleeding into grey ”

-- -- --
He should have been a hero. His name should have been sung to the high heavens, his tale spoken on the lips of every bard. He was the chosen one, the man destined by the gods themselves to restore peace to a ruined and forsaken land. After all, the great sword of the gods chose him. It came to him in his hour of need, and set his hooves on the path to greatness. So, light of heart and bright with hope ran Meridoc through his trials and tribulations, standing steadfast against even the worst beast and monster, until he found the heart of corruption he was to strike from the earth.

He failed.

He should have been a hero. Instead, he was mocked, sneered, bitten and chased with hatred from every settlement, every residence. No one would pay him any more mind, if they didn't outright go to beat him, than to spit on him as they passed.

He was supposed to be a hero. Instead he was an exile, abandoned by all save the stupid sword that had fucked up too and chosen the wrong stallion. He couldn't blame the sword, as much as he wanted to, he had looked rather heroic before things all went sour. With not a scrap of hospitality to be found, Meridoc turned and roamed aimlessly, drowning himself in liquors of every kind (some of unmentionable origins), until his trip was a reeling blur. At some point he heard his home fell to ruin, became a destroyed land of ash and corruption, but fuck if he cared.

He was supposed to be a hero. Well, fuck them! Them and their stupid prophecies. He kept the sword, though, it was good company. Most of the time. Eventually, through some weird trip he can't quite recall, Meridoc found his hooves unsteadily planted on the terrain of Novus. How? He really doesn't know, but there was a green frog, some sort of weird flower, and a lot of undead rabbits.

(the sword knows)

Active & Parvus Magic

Passive Magic


Armor, Outfit, and Accessories

Meridoc wears a harness with a fur half-cape that covers his back. Attached to this harness is a flask, two pouches, and strapped to the back is a longsword, sheathed in a plain, beat up leather scabbard.

The sword, Vitus, is enchanted, sentient, and able to be directed telepathically through the air by Meridoc's will. It's a reflection of Meridoc's personality, and thus is more like a part of him rather than it's own separate entity.

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Played by:

Bird (PM Player)


witch--bird    //   



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