Cali Cali Cali Cali Cali Cali. :D Your name looks strange when I type it that much... O.o

Name: Cryptic Creation (AKA Cryptic)
Age: 14
Gender: Stallion

Smoke spiraled up into the dark night sky and birds burst from the trees, all creatures trying desperately to escape the bight flames devouring their forest home.
The flames burnt brightly, killing all in their path.
A terrified whinny was heard as the wild herd burst from the trees with the fire licking at their heels. The leader released an urgent neigh and the lead mare replied in a voice made hoarse by smoke inhalation. A distant sound was heard coming from within the fiery death cage of the forest. A scream. The screaming whinny of a horse, left behind by her herd because she could not keep up. The leader stared toward the burning trees, then shook his head and leaped into a gallop once more, calling his herd after him with a loud whinny.
It wasn’t worth risking his life or the lives of his herd members for one mare.
The herd raced on, fleeing the site and leaving the fire to strip bare the forest they had once called their home… Leaving one of their own to perish in the flames.
The bight bay mare glanced around her, her eyes rolling white in fear as the reflection of the flames danced on her coat. Sweat dripped from her heaving sides, which were swollen in pregnancy as she searched desperately for an escape. There was none. She began dashing madly around the small clearing, neighing for help, but none came. Sparks singed her golden brown hide and she raced faster and faster. Eventually, in desperation, she leaped through the flames. Landing on the other side, she burst into a gallop, trying to escape the flames that surrounded her. The moon gazed peacefully down on the scene below, a cluster of stars twinkling merrily beside it, oblivious to horror beneath them.
The mare raced on, the red lining of her nostrils showing as she gasped for breath in air heavy with smoke. Her golden ears lay flat against her black mane as she summoned the last of her energy to leap into the air. Her hooves stuttered on the hard rock as she managed to touch down on top of the overhanging rock she had leaped for. She instantly collapsed and fell unconscious.
Smoke twirled around her and flames gleamed, reflected in her golden coat. The exertion of her escape caused a premature birth to occur and the mare’s foal was born into a dark world lit up by flame, his coat mimicking the flames around him.
He nudged his mother and uttered a squeaky nicker but to no avail, she was not to wake.

The newborn foal nudged his dam again and again, knowing that he needed her precious milk to stay alive.
Eventually consciousness left him, too as he could not get the sustenance he needed to start his life. Within another hour the fire had burned out, having destroyed everything there was to burn.
It was then that the foal felt something nudging him, trying to awaken him from the darkness into which he had slipped.
He looked up to see a large stallion standing above him. The horse had a jet-black coat and he was nudging him insistently with his muzzle. The foal struggled to his hooves with a groan and, with the urging of the stallion, slowly descended along the rocky train that led to the forest floor. The stallion pushed him roughly toward a nearby stream, forcing him up each time he fell.
He drank the cool water as the stallion had ordered, then sampled the soft green grass shoots poking up around the pond.
He was forced to enter the world without a mare’s milk, forced to feed off the food of a grown horse, yet he managed to survive.

He was raised by the black stallion who never spoke even a single word to him. He echoed the stallion’s silence and began the journey of learning, learning the ways of the world. He stayed with the stallion until he was 3 years of age, eating what food he could find, and learning to fight off predators as they attacked.
He and the stallion lived in silent companionship, never speaking but each feeling an inkling of affection for the other. The colt looked up to this stallion, not as he might a father but as a role model. The stallion never showed any maternal characteristics, but simply taught the colt.

One day the colt woke up to find the stallion dead beside him, though from what he could not tell. He was heartbroken, having lost the one thing he ever had.
He pleaded for help with the still, early morning air but none came. It reminded him of a time long, long ago, one the scarcely remained in his memory… When a mare much like him had been calling for help… Yet none ever came.
The colt lowered his muzzle to that of the stallion whose name he had never learned, he said a last goodbye to his friend, his mentor, and entered the world of solitude.

The days passed like a blur as the young stallion roamed alone, killing off any predators who dared oppose him. He had gained power and height, making him a formidable opponent for any who dared challenge him. The colt still had no name, no identity and no knowledge of what it was to love or be loved.
All he had was a cluster of memories, yet no emotion to go with them. The colt roamed alone for 2 years, not meeting a single equine soul. He had only the forest creatures for company. By the time the colt reached 5 years he still had no idea who he was, who his sire and dam were or who the mysterious stallion had been. He had never spoken a single word in his life, apart from pleading whinnies, and he had never been spoken to by another. At age 5 he ventured out of the forest for the first time, unknown and unseen.

It was not long before he came upon a herd, grazing peacefully in the sunlight. He snorted in surprise, having never seen so many horses before. The whole herd looked up at his snort and one large stallion approached his head held high and nostrils flaring. He was the leader. As he looked the newcomer up and down his eyes widened in shock. “Y-you?” he stammered, instantly recognizing the colt’s build, which he had inherited from his dam. “You’re Solitaire’s colt aren’t you?” He asked in soft, disbelieving voice. The young stallion snorted softly and stared at the stallion, not wanting to answer… Not knowing the answer. The stallion began to talk to him, explaining who his dam had been and what had happened on the night he was born.
He learned that the stallion, Nightbird, was his sire and leader of the herd. This information was of little important to the young stallion and he stayed silent. “You were to be named Cryptic Creation.” The stallion finished, looking down at his son with proud eyes. Cryptic Creation stared at the horse, reading between the lines of his story as the black stallion had taught him to do long ago.
Nightbird had left his dam to die.
He had abandoned her in a time of need.
He could not be trusted.
Coming to this conclusion, Cryptic ended the life of his sire, 20 minutes after meeting him, with a sharp blow to the poll.
The herd scattered and Cryptic moved on, searching for the next page in his book, the next path in his journey, the next detail of his life.

Cryptic roamed alone for a further 3 years, engaging in many battles with predators and always coming out the victor, though sometimes with scars as souvenirs. His life drifted by slowly and meaninglessly. He had a name, but no identity. He still had not breathed a word to a single soul. He had no reason to.

When he was 8 years old, Cryptic came upon another herd. They recognized the large stallion whose coat glowed like flame from the description their neighboring herd had given them as they scattered after the brutal murder of their leader. The herd bunched together, seemingly nervous, but Cryptic didn’t bother them. He simply walked on by, not so much as throwing them a glance. He was a strange horse, there was no denying it, and he was constantly searching. Searching for something known only to him.
He walked past the herd and soon came upon a loner, an old stallion whose herd had replaced him when they saw his dwindling health. The 2 roamed together for a year, with the old stallion doing the talking and Cryptic doing the listening, finding out about the world from a horse with a wealth of experience. At the end of that year, the old stallion was killed off by a pack of wolves, weak and feeble as he was. Cryptic chased after the wolves and destroyed the entire pack.
Revenge.
He could not get enough of it. Cryptic did not know right from wrong. He did not know what behavior is expected from a wild horse. He simply lived the only way he knew how, which was often different to the ways of others.

The years passed and still Cryptic found hardly any company and spoke scarcely a word. He is now 14 years old, standing a large 16,3hh. He is big boned and powerful, just a big horse all in all. His coat is a dark, gleaming liver chestnut, the colour of flame mixed with the blackness of a midnight sky. It gleams in the fiery sunlight, reflecting the night of his tragic birth. His mane and tail mirror his coat, gleaming a dark red gold. They are long, thick and straight, just like those of most other horses. He has a long sock on each front leg, the gleaming white fur stretching to just above his knees. His white fur reappears on his face in the form a star shaped like a crescent moon. His eyes are dark brown, the same as most horses; yet there is a slight reddish tinge to them. He is a secretive horse, preferring to keep things to himself, so his eyes are near as silent as his mouth, hardly ever showing his thoughts as they swirl through his confused mind.
Cryptic is not a friendly horse, nor is he forgiving. He hardly speaks and when he does, he says the bare minimum, often speaking in cryptic sentences as his name suggests. Cryptic lives for regret, if you hurt him or if he believes you have done wrong, he will not hesitate to punish you in whatever way he sees fit. He is not afraid to kill. He is patient and short-tempered both at once, depending on the situation. However, despite Cryptic’s many bad qualities, if you are one of the lucky few to appeal to his better nature, perhaps strike up a friendship with him, then you will be the first. You will see what he is really like, the incredible loyalty hidden within the depths of his dark eyes. He will never abandon a friend, and would happily lay down his life and his existence to save them. He is, without a doubt, one of the most loyal and protective horses you will ever find. He is also a very good listener, born of years of living in silence. It is difficult, however, to get onto his good side… And even if you get there, the odds of him giving you a second chance if you mess up are incredibly slim. He is a strange horse. You will find this as soon as you attempt to speak to him. Many, many horses have heard of Cryptic, yet few have seen him and none truly know him. Not one. Not a single soul.