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7 [Year 497 Summer]








Iberian Warmblood


17.2 hh







Last Visit:

07-26-2019, 03:56 PM


Signos: 0 (Donate)
Total Posts: 33 (Find All Posts)
Total Threads: 2 (Find All Threads)

At his core Veer is a basic pangare bay with the typical dapples and golden eyes of all those pure of blood in his line. His golden-toned hooves mark him as the Veer Basu I., the first of his name in the family of sand falcons. He is as pure as they come and ever has he been the pride of his dead parents and all their dark glory. It's not until one looks deeper than the brown and tan that the true glory of him becomes clear, the obvious beauty in the violence that lingers beneath his skin.

Veer Basu I is made for war.

His wings are massive and are made for carrying him over the sands for miles and miles without tiring. Each feather is dipped in gold color, as bright as his eyes when the desert sun glitz off his wings. When he spreads them wide and dives through sand-storms his wings seem almost three times larger than the rest of him. Those that frequent the Colosseum often whisper stories in the dark of those golden wings, of blood and unhinged violence.

Everything about his body also tells stories of blood-lust and wealth. All his scars are often hidden beneath satin, feathers and silk when he walks the streets and attends all the gatherings that the wealthy must. Those are the times when he decks himself out in his neck chains and his diamond and golden feather tail chain. But at night, when the moon rises it highlights the scars across his neck and sides seems silver against all the brown and golden dapples.

Veer is built like all his baroque ancestors and each movement he makes in arrogance or violence seems like a song in grace and fury. At night, in the darkness his gold looks like rust and blood and he seems like an unstoppable desert storm.

Often Veer Basu the First seems to be exactly what he looks like, a shallow noble who is empty with only brutal gold running through all his veins. To some he is exactly this. The others of the upper society would describe him as an unsympathetic boy who cares only for himself and the reputation of the Basu line of which is the head. They call him the boy noble, to young to carry his line to anything but destruction. He will lead himself to ruin, they say, battle his way straight to death.

But oh! Oh they do not know all the things that linger beneath his lovely form.

They do not know that it's not gold in his veins but magma. He runs hotter than the core of the sun when he cares to and colder than the bottom of the sea when he decides to be winter. His control of his emotions is dangerously deadly and he wears the mask of more emotions than he could ever feel.

He can be a lover when he wants to be. Veer can also be a killer with the blood-lust takes him or the payment is high enough to make his muscles tense with violence. He's arrogant and emotionless when the mood strikes him and his wields his emotions and his words as weapons as deadly as his wings and hooves and teeth. Few know him well enough to know the true him and most of the ones who could spill his secrets are dead and buried in the dunes.

Some have even said his bones are made of secrets and that perhaps if he could ever be killed they could read them like scripture from his corpse. So far none have been brave enough to try.

To those of the black market he is only the falcon for he dips himself in a pool of soot and dye when the night comes and his scars as the only glittering part of him. The Falcon they say is brutal and quiet and when his temper comes rising to the surface the streets are often painted in blood and gore and witnesses are few and far between.

“Beware the rage of the black Pegasus”, the slavers say, “He will work for you as soon as he will kill you. His loyalty is to gold and himself and nothing of morality.”

Veer Basu has never bothered to quiet the rumors. He rather enjoys recalling them when he seems lazy and uninterested in the meetings of the court.

He was born as a son of death, for death followed the first breath he took in this world. He took a breath into his young and fragile lungs the moment his mother took her last. His mother took to her grave the last bit of kindness in the great Basu household. The foal never learned his mothers name.

His father named him Veer in his sorrow (the only kindness he ever did for his son), thinking perhaps that it is a courageous foal who could breathe in death and live.

But soon all his father's sorrow was replaced by black, brokenhearted rage. He took out all his sins on his child and raised him as nothing more than a weapon to wield. There were no tender moments between father and son, no words of advice or wisdom. Veer's father as cold and brutal as his son was rebellious and fire-hearted.

There was only blood between them.

Veer was raised in war, sent to the killing-grounds to bathe in the blood of those weaker than him and bring back bones and trophies for his father. His kills were never enough, nothing he ever did enough. Win and he was lashed, loose and he was lashed, speak and he was lashed. And so the son, Veer Basu was weaned on blood and war and hate.

He hated his father and he hated his life and he even hated their wealth. Violence was his only love, cleverness and night his only mistresses. The years came and went and this rage only grew inside him like a sand-storm, seething and ready to bury the entire world.

One night, when he was just three, he rolled himself in the soot of their great-fire and escaped from the golden walls of his home. That is when he discovered the black-market and all the wonders sin and selfishness could bring to him. Veer drowned himself in the desert night and he bleed in the underground fighting pits and he felt more alive than he had ever felt before.

And soon the jobs came to him as stories of his skill grew. They called him the Black Falcon and they asked him to steal and murder and he almost always said yes, yes I will do this dark thing for you. Veer lived on the darkness of others and perhaps that's where he learned to love the violence of his heritage. The gold felt heavier when it was dipped in blood and he loved the song it sang between his feathers when he returned home and buried it by his mother's grave.

One strange merchant paid him with a baby Gryphon with feathers the color of the desert sand beneath the noon sun and Veer felt for the first time anything but hate and rage cresting between his bones. He named the Gryphon Najjad and forgot that it was bones and blood and death that brought them together.

They went on for two years like this, killing and thieving and pushing all their limits for they felt as immortal as any young stallion and Gryphon might feel. Veer kept Najjad well hidden and it only seemed like a shadow followed him overhead at a distance.

Each night they dipped themselves in soot (and later ink when Veer learned how to be more clever) and each night they returned to swim in the family pool and wash the black and blood from their feathers.

One night his father found them bathing away the blood under the sinking moonlight and his rage exploded. He turned all his heart-break over loosing his wife onto Najjad, determined that his son be as black and lonely as him. The Gryphon screamed and Veer screamed as the rage he was raised to feel settled over him like a wild-fire.

His father barely had a chance to scream when he used a knife hidden in his feathers to slit his throat. Veer left him to die on the sand and waited for the servants to find him at dawn.

So Veer rose to the head of the family of Basu, and the servants kept his secret for he did not beat them as his father often did. And each night Najjad and Veer still turn their feathers black as night and hunt death and a dark and violent sort of glory.

Active & Parvus Magic

Passive Magic


Najjad the Gryphon
pronounced: Na-jad

Najjad stands about 5ft as the shoulder, taller than the normal lions that he takes part of his form from. His wing span is double that and made to easily carry him aloft from the ground with ease. While he's smaller than Veer when the two of them fly over the desert sands together his wing span makes them look close to the same size as a distance.

Most of his body is colored to blend in easily with the desert sands, he's a mixture of red, gold and tan tipped in black(and other colors between the two) and sometimes when the sun sets it reflects the colors and looks purple, pink and rose-gold. Najjad is slightly different from the average gryphon in that he has lion paws instead of eagle talons growing from his shoulders. From his hips down he also seems more lion than eagle. But his tail is all eagle and it starts thing in fans out into a thick and long feathers of which Najjad is very proud. His head is that of an eagle and his keeps his beak sharp enough to shred through his food easily enough. His diet is similar to one of an eagle although given his size he can feed on animals from wolves to smaller although he could perhaps, in the right mood, take down something larger.

Najjad often isn't in the mood as he's a reflection of the lazier side of Veer's personality. The gyphon is slow to anger and his violence is far less intense than that of Veer. But when provoked he is a fearsome predator although danger to Veer is normally the only thing to inspire him to fight. He often prefers to let the servants of the House of Basu bring him his meals pre-cut for easy eating.

Overall Najjad in a lazy but protective throwback to the times of mythical creatures.

Armor, Outfit, and Accessories

Veer Basu I is mostly commonly decorated with delicate golden chains across his neck and a tail chain ending in a golden feather topped with a diamond.

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Lazy as always

Played by:

nestle (PM Player)


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