Name: Pressure.

Age: Five.

Gender: Gladiator.

Appearance: He is of the percheron ancestry and his coat is a deep black. He has a deep, very visible scar on his right shoulder of a cut in Swastika. His eyes are a deep emerald. On his right eye he holds a scar that runs over the eye bone and across his lid, down to his cheek bone. His mane and tail are long, tattered, torn, and uneven. He stands at about 17 hands. He has a thick body build. His neck is VERY thick and his hind quarters as well. He is all over muscle. He holds no white on his body. Over his

History: He was born on October 31. Hallows Eve. Lovely time if you ask me! He was already planning on being born in Hell as he wriggled in his mother's womb, causing her always great pain. As his crystal gems finally opened from all the nasty fluids, he saw a peaceful world. What the heck?! This was supposed to be burning! The devil at his side! But no, he was born into a peaceful area. Mother saw something in him that gave her a great sense of pride. He was to be a dictator. Oh yes. A good one. She taught him the ways of the darks. She had been one of the only ones to escape from that mishap in the valley. She taught him how to catch prey and fight. He grew big and strong and finally his mother kicked him out of the nest at a year. She first took her talon and dragged it over his right shoulder, making the Swastika. It was her trademark and only hers. Only the kin worthy of it had it. He knew his destiny. To conquer that valley and cause terror. He soon caught up with some stallions who had no idea who they were messing with. The young stallion wiped the out quickly but he got some damage. He ended up with a scar on his eye from a hoof kicking at an angle like a knife. How he wasn't blinded he didn't know. But he was here now and ready. Pressure was his name, and the name of his game.

Personality: Not the usually horse of the valley. He isn't quite sane and is indeed bipolar. His mood swings are horrible and he is quick to rage. A twig snapping can send him into a fit of mass murder. He has not very much emotion and his heart is locked in a giant iron box with chains and heavy duty locks. A mare can perhaps have a key but the one hasn't come along. He is intelligent though. He holds much knowledge. He doesn't think before he acts though. He acts, then thinks. He isn't afraid of anything most of the time. He is bold and speaks his mind. He is thingyy and has a lot of courage. He doesn't mess around when it comes to business. He loves death and has an obsession with it. He loves to battle as well.