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Date Posted: 13:07:53 02/06/02 Wed
Author: Wild Rage...Her rage can kill...
Subject: .a thorn among the roses.

.Raven-hued whipcords dance upon quarters of she, rouge spheres stare in blank obscurity, fire tormenting their surfaces in radiant coloration not unlike that of the glare of devistation. Death's soul watches through this fem of night, shinning upon her pelt and grasping through her hellish presence. She stands as if never to move, square in perfection, an angel in the cloak of darkness. Ebon spitfire is she, be afraid, be terrified. Her very existance mirrors tragity, her very color that of evil. Her stare penitrates your soul not unlike tearing it from you, possessing you, holding your life at her own balance. Delicate conformation underlies deadly strenth and undieing hate for the rouges that dare torment her childhood, glaring back at them as if cheating death's hold by merely standing this moment in time, all such ceases at movement of she is slowed, dare approach, dare not fear her. Or is your own will not that it should be? Dare try her bloodlines, the first born of that stud of Flask, Tempest dam. Dare try me, you will not be disapointed.


.Dubbed.-. Wild Rage


.Descent.-. Arabic


.Gender.-. Squaw


.Age.-. 'tis only a number...

.Height.-. 15.4hh


.Hue.-. Ebon...The shadow of Satan...


.Disposition.-. Unknown...

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