Because I could not stop for Death, he kindly stopped for me, the carriage held but just ourselves and immortality. Since then 'tis centuries and yet feels shorter than the day I first surmised the Horses' Heads were toward Eternity
Emily Dickinson
Before we begin, I want to add that all the art on this page were pictures of real horses, edited and customized by me using art programs. Therefore saying that the poses are originally photographs and photography credit doesn't go to me. Though, every aspect of Nicorel's design, art and story go to me. Nicorel's design includes the white flowing mane, and skull imprint on his face. I decided to create a character and design that did not exactly match the darigan neopet design of unis. To me, it makes Nicorel's personality more personal.
Please do not steal.
I will also warn that some parts of Nicorel's story may be disturbing to some readers. Please keep this in mind.
I want to thank William for giving me this opportunity! I wish all the other applicants luck as well, for they too have put in hard work and dedication for this beautiful, darigan uni.
I wasn't always like this.
The first place I can vividly remember was a grassy green plain encased in newly bloomed spring flowers. The smell was the most pungent, sweet smelling aroma I had ever smelt. My first smell. I remember the gentle nudge from my mother's muzzle, furry and soft embracing me for the first time. I was born on a spring day, in a meadow surrounded by mountains. My herd, ruled by my father, had called this place home for what seemed like an eternity. A shallow pond had provided us water, the thick, chewy grass gave us food. The perfect place for a foal to be born. This was my home.
For the first three months of my life, my mother was the only horse I knew. She was a beautiful white mare, with endless cream colored hair. She was lovely. She nutured me with milk. She taught me how to trot, and how to always be alert. Though, there was no need to be on edge in this beautiful valley. There were never any predators.
When I became a bit older, I met my father, the leader of our herd. His persona was intimidating. He stood before me for the first time, gazing without any indication of welcome. He stood at least five feet above me, his glazing black skin glimmering. His long, onyx mane flowing in the breeze. I was a spitting image of him, my mother said. A long moment passed while he glared at his son. He snorted disapprovingly, then galloped away. My mother quickly galloped in and comforted me. "Do not mind him, my son", she assured. He never liked me.
As time went on, I grew stronger. I learned how to chew grass, and how to gallop. My mother had taught me how to do these things. She was always there.
I had become a very rambunctios young colt. I had aged to a mature two years old. I had been named Nicorel after my father, Nicolas. My mother was extremely proud of me. Being the only colt in the herd meant that I would be second in command to my father. Since the first time I had met him, there had only been a few instances where we would meet, and those, the same as the first. A long pause of hesitant silence, a rude grunt on his behalf, and a low bend of the head for me. It seemed as though this would never resolve.
This one particular morning I awoke to a very strange smell in the air. The crisp, fresh aroma I would usually awake too had been slightly disturbed. A strong, agressive smell attacked the air. I galloped up to the largest hill on our plain and overlooked my herd. I found my father, ears pointed upward, nostrils flared. He had also sensed there was something wrong. I searched for my mother, and found her with the other mares, content in their grazing. Relieved by my herd's tranqility, I trotted back to where my mother was. As she lifted her head to meet my gaze,a piercing wail filled the air. My head shot towards the sound and met a horrific scene I would never forget. On the hill I had just come from, came a foreign herd of around seven full grown mares, led by a valiant chesnut stallion. They were at a full canter charging straight towards our herd.
As the tiny image of the herd became a large, intimidating picture, I began to panic. My mother, with the other mares were galloping for their lives towards the pond we drank from. Though it seemed small and shallow, the pond took up alot of space, was seven feet deep, and twenty feet from one side to another. Over the past generations, our herd had learned to resist hestitance to the water giving us an advantage. I began running beside my herd, nudging my aging mother. Her gait was uneven, worrying me to no extent. As we rounded the bend and met the river, I ran ahead of the herd and assured their safe passage to the other side. As one mare after another crossed, I gazed around frantically searching for my mother. Assuming she was close by, I looked around the pond, not finding her. As I moved my gaze straight ahead, my heart sank. Struggiling for her life, my mother was limping extensively towards me. Not but three feet behind her were the foreign mares, violence in their eyes.
Quickly, I charged for my mother with all my will. I felt tired, I felt sick, I felt desperate, but I went on. I counted my enemies quickly. One, two, three, four....five. No. Six...seven. Seven mares to face. I kicked my legs down and shot up into the sky, landing in front of my mother with a heavy thud. With me distracting the mares, my mother limped to the pond and met up with the herd. I was worried for her, but I had to protect the herd from further damage. The mares surrounded me and began attacking, with ear shattering wails. I kicked one down, and bit two others causing them to flee. I had been hit with one of the mares hoofs so violently that part of the skin on my left leg was torn off. I fought back with all my might, but the pain was unbearable. The flow from my leg was alarmingly ghastly, leaving a puddle on the floor. I couldn't go on for another moment. As one of the bulkiest mares charged in to attack, she fell to the floor in an instant. As she squirmed on the floor, I looked up and found my father with a wild look in his eyes. He quickly butted one of the mares with his body, and pumbled another to the floor.
He grabbed a mare's mane with his teeth, and thrusted her into the ground. He fell down with exhaustion. I ran towards him, hestitantly, but with despair. Horses do not talk much, but when they do, they are sure to make every last word mean something. As I looked at my father in disbelief, he let out something I would never forget. "Nicorel, my son", he stuttered. He had to breath in deeply to utter another word.I have always loved you.
With remorse and anger, I ran, leg bleeding towards the river to find my herd and mother. My hair was tangled, and I was distraught. I leaped into the pond and swam past, ignoring the pain shooting from my leg. Across the river, the surroundings were different. Unlike our lush mountain plain that was our home, this was a desert-like place, strange to me. I ran out of the water and galloped in these rocky and sandy parts, until I found my herd in a close circle, shaking. My mother limped towards me crying. The mares in the herd were in shock, and somehow knew from my disheveled appearance that something was wrong. Yasmine, the youngest mare came up to me very slowly and hesitantly. "N-Nico", she stuttered. "Where is y-your father?" Within seconds I collapsed to the ground in anguish. It was too much for me to handle.
With this, the mares began sobbing and whinnying for their dead leader. My father had been their protector for 20 years and he had now fallen. Sasha, a pinto mare began running towards the river sobbing. My mother darted in front of her violently. "You cannot go back Sasha! You cannot! That stallion is still alive just waiting to overtake this herd!" Until now, I had forgotten about the foreign herd's leader blaming the tradgedy on those horrible mares. At this, I pondered for a second, eyes glazing red with hatred, and stepped up from the ground. "I will kill this chestnut stallion for killing my father. To protect this herd, and to honor my father!" The mares looked up, tears still in their eyes. "I will meet him, and we will fight to the death." My mother, still next to Sasha galloped towards me, warning me of the dangers and begging me not to go. I had loved my mother my entire life and looked into her sorrowful eyes. I ran off into the desert without looking back. I would get my revenge.
For two days, I ran, seeking the chestnut stallion. I could sense his pungent smell. He was not far. I had been running in this rocky desert without stopping. The hatred inside of me was overpowering. I was dripping with sweat when I collasped on the ground. "Don't stop", I told myself. As I was going in and out of conciousness, I was startled by a piercing wail. I jumped up, ears in the air. I turned around, looked up and saw the stallion on a cliff above me. I regained my energy quickly and began charging up the rocks towards him. He looked alive, and gave a chlling grin when I met him. I charged for him and the duel began.
I was the first to strike. I hit him with a sharp hoof and scraped his ribs. He administered a huge blow to my left back leg. I bit his neck exposing a muscle. As the clashing continued, I began to notice he was slowly pushing me towards the end of the cliff. Each step I took was potentially life ending. Both the stallion and I were bleeding intensely, and breathing hard. As he reared to push me of the steep cliff, I quickly raced around him and nudged his back. Too quick for him to process, he skidded foward facing the end of the cliff and stumbled. I pumbled my body towards his and he slid off the cliff. I watched in horror as he flew downwards, gravity his only friend. I turned my head and blocked the sounds. I could not believe what I had done.
I stood for a long while, taking deep breaths. What I did not know is that each breath I took was slowly but surely killing me. I had broken three ribs, had torn most of my left front leg and had broken my back leg. I had scars all over my body and had blood dripping from my mouth. Still in shock, I hadn't realized I had been standing in this spot for three hours, and in this time, it had began to rain. It wasn't until a great bolt of lightning followed by an extremely loud thunder roar had woke me up from this trance. 
I regained my perception of reality and realized my predicament. The rain was slowly washing of the blood, and I found it difficult to stand. As my life was held in the hands of fate, my childhood, my past began to flicker in front of my eyes. I remember the meadow, and the lovely spring flowers. I remembered the herd, and the mares that would care for me while my mother grazed. My mother. I remembered my mother. Quickly, I tried to run, tried to reach my mother, but I couldn't move a muscle. I looked up into the heavy rain, and met a bright purple lightning strike in the sky. I told my muscles to move, but they wouldn't. I wanted to see my mother one last time. I had too. I looked up into the heavens and asked to see my mother again. And with one quick bolt of lightning, everything was over.
I awoke in the most disturbing, eyrie place I had ever experienced. I felt weightless, I felt numb, I felt...dead. I gazed at my surroundings and found myself surrounded by lifeless trees and grey, foggy air. It was ice cold, but I could not feel it. Perhaps you could say, I just knew it was freezing. The air was thin, but I wasn't breathing. It smelt like moist, frigid air, but I couldn't feel the air flowing through my nostrils. I slowly, hesitantly gazed at my body and found mist. I was a ghostly mass of fog. I was indeed dead. Now, I don't know about you but I was taught that there is a "higher place" that you go to when you die. This was not the case. I was in the spirit world.
I had been lying in this life-less place for days. Days seemed like minutes in this world. Time was infinite, but I was in a hurry to do something. I couldn't remember what it was. I stood up for the first time in this world. I felt no pain, no hurt, but I longed for something. And then I remembered. My mother. I needed to see my mother.
As I gained my balance, my foggy figure turned back into the form it had when I was alive. I was a larger and more onyx version of my old self. I felt like I had been reborn. I wandered around this dead garden and found what seemed to be a pond. Of course! This had to be my home, but a different dimension. Everything looked so familiar.
I made my way to the pond and realized it was not a pond filled with water. It was a pond filled with blood. When I stared into the water, I saw my reflection and jumped back. I had flowing white hair and a skeletal marking on my face. As frightning as you think this experience would have been, I was almost content with these surroundings. I just needed to find my mother.
I pondered around this place for six years. In the spirit world, live beings look like ghosts. I had come across many creatures big and small. I had seen many herds, but never my own. When I did meet animals, they could barely hear or see me but they knew I was there, and that gave me hope.
Today, I am planning on going to the spot where I died. I plan on visiting the rocky cliffs and paying my respects to the one I killed. If I had the chance to live, to breathe, to see my mother again, I would promise to never hurt or plan revenge on another creature. I do not know how to get out of this world, but I think when I find peace with myself, I will leave, and finally see my mother again. I think that I will return to the gorgeous meadow of mine, and run free with my mother. I believe I will meet my father again, and finally experience the bond we never had. I believe, I will finally live the life I was intented to live.
But until then, I bid farewell.
The most distinctive markings are those when Nicorel is dead. He has a prominant skull marking on his face, and long flowing white hair. He is a arabian/quarter horse breed. His mother was an arabian, his father a quarter horse.
Name: Nicorel
Pronounciation: Nee-coor-all
Personality: Loyal and devoted to those he loves. Also very distraught and aggressive at times. Intuitive and deep.
P.O.B: A quiet meadow located in a New Zealand mountain range.
Height: 19 hands (horse measurement)
Age: 8 years (young adult)
Nicorel's story is told in his personal view.
Nicorel is a jet black arabian/quarter horse who had started his life off splendidly. He had a beautiful meadow and a caring mother. As he grew, his father, the leader of the herd, became more apparently distant. Though this was damaging to the young Nicorel, he coped.
As Nicorel became even older, he could see the distant future of him taking over his father's role as leader. On a tranqil spring day, he was grazing when he heard a noise. It ended up being a foreign herd trying to take over Nicolas's (his father's) land. While Nicorel protected his herd and lead them across a large pond, his mother was held back by old age and was surrounded by the foriegn herd's mares. There were seven. Nicorel fought them off while his ailing mother limped to and across the river. During this fight, Nicorel became incredibly injuried.
As he fought off the very last mare, he almost lost his life when his father, Nicolas, saved Nicorel's life. Though, Nicolas had saved his son's life, he lost his and ended his life by telling Nicorel how he loved him. With this, Nicorel saught revenge on the foreign leader. When he found him, he killed him, but died himself. He went into the spirit world where he longed for his mother. It ended here as well.
Nicorel's least favorite items are Fruity Seafood Delight, The Loveliest Uni, and Pink Flower Hat.
So, I could just hyperventalate at this point because I have to prove myself against other amazing applicants for Nicorel. -hyperventalates- Well, to prove I'm different, I don't just believe, but I KNOW I can be the best owner for Nicorel. I think that Nicorel's story and art has been the best I've ever done in my art and writing career on neopets, and not only that, but I am now stable financially and coding wise on neopets. I can afford to buy petpets and paint brushes for my neopets, and can code layouts to where my pets look and feel great. I believe that neopets in general has given me something so incredibly crucial to my life. It has given me a creative and artistic outlook on life, and honestly, has improved if not made my life better. As sad as that sounds, there are so many creative outlooks on this site that relate to real life, its amazing. I have learned how to use photoshop and other art programs simply for this reason. I can actually code real websites and know how to do this -shows- ITS BLUE! I have learned all of this by myself all due to this very site, and for my precious neopets. In all reality, pets are just pixels, but physiologically, these pets mean so much to me, I would be devastated to lose them. I think that Nicorel would love a caring and somewhat escentric family like mine, and I really hope that I can welcome him home! We love you Nicorel! Please come home with us! ♥
Weeeeee! Extra art! Below are photographs I edited and a drawing that were not used in the application. I thought I'd just show you them. xD
Below are responses from previous "Application Rating" on the Pound Chat boards. To see them in full view, drag and drop in a toolbar.
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