Describe the avatar above you

Exactly What It Says on the Tin. There is an avatar above you. Describe it as if you have encountered it in a story.

Begin.

A youthful pony trots into view. Her fluffy pink hair bouncing in the air. Her hooves are almost non-existant, rather, her legs end in smooth nubs. There seemed to be some sort of decal on her rear, but she was too far away to make it out completly. Her face.... oh gawd, her face..... Let's leave that to your imagination, shall we?

Tatsumar's skin was as colorless as ashen firewood, bloodless save for his red-tinged cheeks. His hair was shiny and blackened like a charred log, with a few stains of brown spiraling over his head and meeting at a comically exaggerated widow's peak. On either side of his head, just above his shyly bowing ears, bone-white horns jutted perpendicular from his temples and veered upward at their tips, as if to spite his willowy posture, which seemed to perpetually slouch and sag forwards as he stood. All about his countenance was bashfulness. His coal eyes barely ever met a gaze, and his small brows were always stitched into an expression of concern.

edited 26th May '11 5:41:51 PM by LilPaladinSuzy

The strange creature, covered in a thin layer of pink hair, turned it's head. As it did, its full, majestic maroon mane bounced in the air. Only to bounce out of the way to reveal a face. A face of a man who has found amusement in pissing people off. A disgusting face on an otherwise majestic creature.

"The Little Men", as they called themselves, looked to be a crack team of misfits and rebels, united by their bonds of brotherhood formed through countless journeys, as well as their majestic manes. (Seriously, those things were awesome.) The man at the front had tawny brown locks that cascaded down before coming to an abrupt rounded stop just below his shoulders. His upper body was bare except for a leather jacket, and his skinny hips looked as if they barely supported the bellbottom blue jeans on them. As he sang, he tilted his head slightly backwards to face the heavens and shut his eyes as the melody of the song rushed through him. His body was but a shell, his vocal chords but an instrument of realization.

The lead guitarist's face is shadowed by a curtain of jet-black hair. On one side, you can see a thick brow and a dark eye glower at you. To say the least, he was better-dressed than the rest of his motley crew. He had a penchant for slate gray blazers with blood-red cravats tucked neatly into a black dress shirt. Yet his ebony leather pants betrayed his entire disguise. He was clearly always misunderstood, always an outsider, and always moping about it.

To the tuxedoed man's left was his fellow in rock and roll. He seems to pay no attention to you, and ducks his head away from you shyly. Wearing nothing but a vest and red pants, he pauses, strums the guitar, pauses, and strums again, his eyes moving back and forth rapidly as if deciphering a hidden message in their sound. You can see the glitter of a chain around his neck - a cross hangs at the end, resting in the middle of his chest.

Behind them all, the drummer struck his drumsticks against their target with wild fervor. Curling around his lip was a thick mustache the color of mink, his hair a matching shade, pulled back by an army green bandanna to keep the hair out of his face. Not that his face was anything to look at. He was much less attractive than his comrades, and had a nose that would have made an aardvark blush. But since he was in the back, there was no need for him to be flashy. A simple orange tee shirt and casual jeans would suffice for tonight's performance.

Hesitantly, the foremost man approached the creature, raising his hand in a gesture that mixed peace and defensiveness. "Excuse me— uh, miss?—"

The pink animal abruptly stopped eating, shot straight up, entrails still slowly dropping from its mouth in a grisly Niagara; then it slowly turned to face its visitor.

With its decidedly non-equestrian face.

It was more like a grotesque, depraved humanoid visage, wrinkled like a centenarian's — mouth stretched in a disturbing, manic grin, the grotesque smile clashing with the reasuringly pink fur and fluffy mane.