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Kim's Random~ness |
A Journal all about crazy ol' me and other random things |
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Kimaria
Community Member
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Posted: Sat Dec 15, 2012 @ 11:39pm
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Posted: Sun Sep 18, 2011 @ 10:05pm
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Kimaria
Community Member
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Kimaria
Community Member
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Posted: Fri Dec 24, 2010 @ 12:44pm
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Rider concept - J'nie
Rider’s Name: J’nie
Rider’s Age: 25
Rider’s Sex: Female
Rider’s sexual orientation: Bisexual
Rider’s secondary craft: n/a
Personality: J’nie is one of the most upbeat and bubbly people you’re likely to meet in Force Weyr. The life of the party, some might say. She greets everyone with a huuuuge grin, a vigorous handshake or an overenthusiastic embrace. Not only that, but she’ll spend time chatting to you for hours; whether you’ve known each other since you were kids, or just bumped into one another for the first time. And, the best thing is, her friendliness is genuine. She’s not trying to play you for a fool or being false to try and impress. J’nie genuinely wants to make friends with you! Problem is, because she has so much to say, you might not get much of a word in yourself, which means shy people will either feel terribly suffocated, or happy to just let her talk to avoid those awkward silences. Listen closely to the sorts of things she talks about, however, and you’ll start to wonder whether all of it is quite true…
This girl enjoys nothing more than a good gossip and much of what she says involves something she’s heard about from ‘a friend of a friend’. She loves hearing about other people’s lives and is shameless with her nosiness. If she passes by a group of people chatting and hears something that might be interesting, she’ll slide into the conversation to ‘absorb’.
Please don’t be too mad if she ends up gossiping about you, though. Honestly, J’nie is not doing it from malicious intent or anything like that. She’s just terribly interested in your life and thinks others might be, too! Because of this, if you have a dearly held secret you need to share, you’d best not share it with J’nie unless you want it spread about like wildfire. And, if you do let slip, don’t get your hopes up that she might just forget it, because J’nie’s memory is rather fine-tuned. Even still, since J’nie isn’t doing this with any bad intent, the gossip she normally spreads is usually harmless. She’ll rarely spread anything nasty unless she dislikes the person and there are very few people that come under that category in her book.
However, her gullibility is a well-known flaw and can be used to your advantage if you want to get your own back on her. She’ll believe most things that she’s told and you can sit back and watch the wild, untrue rumours take flight. Not surprisingly, her gossiping gets her into trouble from time to time. After all, most people don’t like being talked about behind their backs. However, being mean or cruel to J’nie is like kicking a puppy; you can’t do it, or – if you do – you’ll probably end up feeling guilty about it. She’ll tip-toe around those she’s upset without a word and this can last for a long, long time – unless the offended person makes the first move and approaches her. The only good thing about this is, if she does upset you with her gossip, she’ll generally never do it again, which means you’re pretty much safe.
J’nie attacks everything with a boundless enthusiasm, putting one hundred percent into each part of her daily routine as well as any other tasks given to her, never seeing to bore of them. However, this can lead to her trying too hard and often makes mistakes because of this! If you’ve got a pile of plates you want taking through to the back kitchens, it’s probably best not to get J’nie involved. Her tendency to rush about will probably mean she’ll trip on something and drop the whole lot.
Throughout her time in the Weyr, J’nie has been a constant average all-rounder. She never excels in anything, but neither does she fail in anything either. Perhaps if she was able to harness her energy a little more productively, she could have been a better student, but the likelihood of that ever happening is slim indeed.
It’s hardly surprising that a lot of people find J’nie too much to handle, but, if you can match her enthusiasm, join in the banter and aren’t too bothered about outward appearances, you’ll have a friend for life. And J’nie is a good friend to have.
Despite being a chatterbox and a shameless gossip, J’nie also spends a lot of time helping out others in the Weyr, from helping the crèche workers (a job she particularly enjoys) to dropping in on fellows to check if they want her to fetch anything from the dining hall whilst she’s there. She would never ever walk past someone in need and will do anything it takes to help cheer up those who need it.
J’nie’s one ambition in life is to find a wonderful weyrmate with whom she can share her life with and to have lots of babies! (So, if her weyrmate happens to be female, please don’t mind that she’s sleeping with men on the side. It doesn’t mean anything! Honest!)
Flaws: Gossipy, nosy, gullible,
Virtues: Chatty*, loving, helpful, energetic*, a real go-getter,
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Posted: Sun Dec 05, 2010 @ 12:15pm
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Pern Dragonrider Custom Ideas
CUSTOM BRONZE RIDER CONCEPT
Rider: O’ren (Pre-Impression: Ouren)
Gender: Male
Age: 45
Appearance: O’ren is a tall and imposing figure, standing at a tough to beat 6’2” in height. Strong limbed, with broad shoulders and a tapering waist, there is nothing ‘soft or squishy’ about this hardened rider. His skin is nicely tanned and sun-roughened; his lips chapped and dry, his hands calloused and flecked with the white of old scars.
His short-cropped, brown hair is starting to thin with age, and beginning to grey at the temples and nape of the neck. Whilst short, it is often left unkempt, constantly in a state of ‘bed-hair’, with small tufts sticking out at precarious angles. This look has been described as that of a ‘ruffled bird’.
O’ren has never been considered a pretty man, but he does have a rugged charm that has been known to attract many a woman in his time. He has a sharp, intelligent looking face with a consistent shadow of stubble, which he keeps clipped short and saves him from being ‘clean-shaven’, which is a look he really doesn’t appreciate. His brow is heavily wrinkled with thought / worry lines, that are more often there than not, since he only really relaxes when he’s sleeping. Set in that ‘hard’ face are incredibly expressive blue eyes. Depending on the light, his eyes can be a vibrant electric blue or shaded to a dark grey-blue. The colour of his eyes seems somehow to also be affected by his moods. He’s almost always seen scowling or serious, his smiles never going further than the slight quirking of the mouth.
Due to – or expected to be – arthritis in his right leg, O’ren’s gait is hindered by a limp. On better days, the limp is hardly noticeable. On others, however, the pain can be so bad that he struggles to get out of his chair or bed.
His clothes are usually practical and comfortable, many of them so old that they’ve been patched numerous times. He doesn’t wear bright colours, venturing only from the typical browns and whites on special occasions. On such occasions, blue seems to be his preference, the colour certainly doing well to bring out his eyes. (Or so the ladies have told him!)
Personality: O’ren is your neighbourly misanthropist! That’s right! If he doesn’t know you, he won’t trust you. If he does know you, he’s likely to trust you even less. As such, it’s hardly a surprise that he doesn’t have many friends and often gets into trouble with his superiors – even now at his age! If he believes the orders he’s been given by a superior are wrong, he will not hesitate to share his opinion and – if that gets him nowhere – he’ll just go right on disobeying or refuse to take any part whatsoever. In fact, he seems to get some sort of kick out of causing trouble for those in charge and seeing them squirm when he refuses to comply with them. If a rule gets in the way of him completing a job or playing some sort of mean practical joke, he’ll swat them away with no regards for the consequences.
O’ren is an extremely stubborn man who would never admit he might have been wrong unless there is unquestionable proof. His stubbornness could be considered a good trait in that, if he is right, by sticking to his guns, he’ll actually help alleviate the problem. However, most of the time he’s stubborn about silly things that he really should ease up on: such as refusing to go to festivities.
The man is not open with his feelings at all - unless its anger and frustration. However, those who do know him well enough know how to spot the warning signs. An increase in alcohol intake, coupled with almost unbearable sarcasm and biting remarks are usually the signs that he’s upset or distressed by something. Try and get him to tell you, however, and you’re going to be very disappointed. O’ren will rarely share his feelings with even his closest friend, B’yir.
Compassion and sensitivity are not things that O’ren understands. He prefers to be blunt and brutally honest at all times, seeming not to car about hurting other people’s feelings. If he thinks a candidate will never be able to impress a dragon, for instance, he will tell them straight out, perhaps hoping that by crushing any hope now; it’ll help ease the disappointment later on in life.
His rebellious nature, coupled with his rugged appearance has gained him the attention of many a woman in the past. Certainly, O’ren is more than happy to indulge in physical activity with these women on one occasion – or maybe a couple if they’re exceptionally pretty! But, he certainly wouldn’t consider getting involved in a long time or meaningful relationship of that sort and sneers at so-called ‘true love’. As far as he is concerned, love is a symptom of stupidity and nothing more.
There is little to say on O’ren’s better qualities, simply because he doesn’t have many. However, as rude, selfish and stubborn as he is, O’ren is an extremely intelligent man. He has an incredible memory and a hunger for learning. His life has always been to ask why. Why does that do what it does? Why does that to exist? O’ren’s head is akin to a library. In fact, due to having quite an ego and enjoying showing off his expansive knowledge, O’ren makes a strict, hard but excellent teacher. He acts like he doesn’t like to spend time teaching ‘brats’ about dragons and geography and survival etc, but, really, he gets a kick out of regurgitating information and pressing it on the younger minds.
O’ren also, unsurprisingly, is an incredibly authoritative figure, and the way that he disobeys rules and has such confidence and justification in his own actions can’t help but distil a begrudging respect from his peers. He’s the sort of man who, upon entering a classroom full of kids, can get them to shut up and behave just by glaring coldly at them for a moment. He will certainly not put up with any silly behaviour when on duty.
Oh, and one more thing, if anyone tries to show him pity or sympathy over the pain in his leg, don’t expect a nice response. He lashes out at those who offer him a helping hand and refuses aid from anyone. As far as he’s concerned, his leg is fine and it isn’t stopping him from being a good rider.
Flaws: Sarcastic, rude, stubborn, disrespectful, untrusting
Virtues: Intelligent, authoritative
History: Raised in Force Hold by a single father who was also a Master Woodcrafter, Ouren’s childhood was never going to be an easy one. As soon as he was old enough, his father put him to work in the woodshop, starting him on jobs such as clearing away tools and wood shavings, fetching food and greeting customers. His father was a hard man, everything about him perfect and proper. He was always punctual, never took a day off sick, put every bit of effort into each piece of furniture he crafted and was rewarded by a constant supply of work that had both of them living in a comfortable abode with good food and good clothes.
Ouren – who had begun to establish a rocky relationship with his father as he got older – only grew more and more resentful as time went on. He did not like how his path had been set out for him without his consent. Did not like how his father treated him like a servant instead of a son. Even still, he was just a boy, and whilst his father’s behaviour angered him, he was also too scared to stand up to him. He begrudgingly agreed to become an official apprentice and began to train under him; learning to carve wood, paper-making and other such skills that he would need to show once he was taken to the Woodcraft Hall. Ouren, like his father, certainly seemed to have an aptitude for woodcraft and after a short time, his father called for him to be taken to the Hall for testing.
It was at the Hall when Ouren decided enough was enough. It was time to take his life into his own hands. He purposely failed in his tests at the Hall, despite snickers from his peers and confused glances from his teachers, insisting that the shoddy work was the best he had ever done. Not surprisingly, he was returned in shame to his father, who had to apologise for wasting their time. Angered by his son’s failure and disobedience, his father put him back to the servant work of sweeping, cooking and fixing tools. Their relationship was quick to dissolve after that and every day brought a fresh bout of rage and another fiery argument.
At the age of fifteen, Ouren broke away from working at his father’s workshop and instead, made money from helping traders out in the markets. This separation brought some ease to their tense relationship, and allowed Ouren to hide some money away in an attempt to save enough to move out and make his own life by himself. However, a turn of saving, and almost ready to take the next step in his plan, a dragon came to Force on Search. Ouren was out in the market when it happened and, curious at the crowds, drew closer to see what was happening. The next thing he knew, he was being hoisted up from the crowds by his belt and swung high in the air. When he was set down again he was standing by a blue dragon – who had swept him up in its jaws – and was being told by a smiling rider that he might have what it took to be a dragon rider.
Well, of course, Ouren jumped at the opportunity, insisting that they leave straight away, not wanting his father to find out and keep him from going. Sadly, the rider insisted that they tell his family. After all, they weren’t into the practise of stealing children! And, as expected, Ouren’s father was adamant that they would not be taking the boy. Angry and bitter, Ouren disobeyed his father and told him that it was not his decision to make. His father, enraged, told him that if he went to the Weyr he never wanted to see him again. Ouren, happily accepted this. And so, he left the Hold behind, never to see his father again.
Ouren, whilst a troublesome candidate, forever arriving late for classes and breaking rules, was otherwise an intelligent lad, and this is probably what saved him from being thrown out. Despite his lack of timekeeping and troublemaking, he was a keen learner and managed to pick up everything with surprising ease. No one could doubt that, despite missing parts of the class, he had learnt as much – if not more – than those who attended. He was a recluse, even in his youth, and though he had a few friendships they all came to an end eventually and rather badly at that. However, the reason for his anti-social trait, whilst can be found rooted at his father, stretches out to others he spent his time with during his childhood: corrupt merchants and traders, lazy candidates who only wanted to know him for the knowledge he had etc...
Yet, despite his intelligence and fiery nature, Ouren had many, many failed attempts on the sands, always left behind having failed to gain the attention of a hatchling. Stubborn to the end, he refused to give in.
Despite this, however, he had many failed attempts on the sands, always left behind.
When he was twenty, he made his first friend. A woman one turn his junior, brought in from Force Hold. Her name was Blyir. Like him, she was an intelligent and ambitious woman with a calculating way about her. The two hit it off, forming an odd sort of friendship that could have gone terribly wrong had the circumstances been different. When Blyir was around, he managed to loosen up a little, and though he was still rude and closed off about his emotions, she was not only able to handle it, but throw it back at him. Her no bullshit attitude won him over and Blyir’s friendship has come to mean a great deal to him – though of course he’d never tell her that! There were many speculations about the pair, but, despite rumours, these two have never been romantically involved.
At twenty-two, Ouren and Blyir Impressed.
The newly named O’ren became the rider of a magnificent bronze beast, who was unquestionably a perfect match for him. B’yir was partnered with an exceptionally large brown hatchling, who had broken free from his shell perhaps a couple of seconds after the bronze. Like the riders, the dragons would come to be partners in crime, almost always seen in the company of one another.
O’ren was a troublesome but intelligent rider, who was incredibly ambitious. However, due to some of his bad traits, he was more than often overlooked for promotion and, if the occasion was granted, he often ended messing things up and being demoted again. This made him bitter and more and more anti-social, even breaking his friendship with B’yir on a few occasions.
At the age of thirty-eight, the beginnings of arthritis became apparent in one of his legs, and though it came and went at the beginning, it became more and more poignant as the turns went by. He was able to pretend that it didn’t exist or that he’d simply been overdoing it, but eventually B’yir discovered his secret and pressed on him to see a healer and give up on the more strenuous duties. O’ren, being stubborn, refused to listen and continues to do so despite her best efforts.
Dragon’s profile
Name: Volitath
Colour: Bronze
Age: 23
Build: A large and muscular bronze, giving him limited agility but incredible stamina. He is a deep bronze in colour.
Personality: Volitath is a typical bronze dragon in many respects. He is a very proud, stubborn beast with a rather immense ego, which makes him rather partial to flattery and attention – particularly female attention!! And really, why shouldn’t he have an ego? He’s a grand specimen of a bronze, big and strong with a fine, deep colour, not to mention that he’s pretty smart, too.
This bronze loves the ladies and he has a rather good memory when it comes to his girls. He remembers their names, their behaviours, how to flatter and compliment them just so (or not, as the case may be!) As well as keep track on when they’re coming into heat so he won’t be caught unawares and let one of them slip away. Volitath loves chasing females, both greens and golds, although he generally sticks to a handful of females who he particularly enjoys the company of. He is extremely possessive of the girls in his ‘harem’ and will make sure other males know that they are ‘his’ by the typical male display. However, Volitath prefers the younger ladies and will often drop a long-time mate for a younger one without much concern or regret. And, despite O’ren’s protests about flying young dragons, it seems that this is something the bronze is firm on – much to his rider’s embarrassment.
However, despite his typical lustiness and ego, Volitath is also a considerate and placating beast where O’ren and other riders are concerned. Perhaps the only trait he does not share with his rider is his lack of trust. Volitath trusts and respects his superiors and will often act as a buffer to any anger thrown in O’ren’s way, apologising on his rider’s behalf to superiors and those he may have upset. It should be noted that he never tells O’ren that he has done this, though his rider certainly is aware that it goes on. If O’ren is in pain and needs someone to lean on, the bronze will be there. If O’ren is in a situation he finds uncomfortable, Volitath will find some excuse to summon him away.
Other dragons are a slightly different matter. Being a bronze, he’s top of the food chain – not including the queens, of course. He can’t stand those little blues and looks down at browns unless they prove themselves worthy of his time. This means that he generally keeps the company of females, particularly playful and energetic greens or ones who play hard to get. The exception to the rule is Blyir’s Waroth, the two are best friends as well as clutch-mates, and have never had a falling out in their time together.
Why me?
Who better for a grumpy misanthropist than a considerate, confident and trusting beast?
Volitath is both O’ren’s complete match and complete opposite all in one, sharing O’ren’s stubborn and authoritative nature but maintaining a respect for authority that his rider does not. Volitath – like O’ren – has a strong ambition to become one of the greatest bronzes to fly at Force. To achieve that, he needed a rider both ambitious and strong and willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done, even if it does make them unpopular. Yet, whilst a strong and career-driven partner, the bronze shows sensitivity towards others (unless they’re a male dragon) which is something that his rider needs a lot of support with.
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CUSTOM BROWN RIDER CONCEPT
Rider: B’yir (Pre-Impression: Blyir)
Gender: Female
Age: 44
Appearance: B’yir is a short, slim woman, about 5’6” in height. Yet, whilst small she is also strong, well-toned with muscular arms and legs from living life as a dragonrider.
She has short hair cropped just below her chin and left loose so that it often falls across her face as she works – though occasionally she will hold it back away from her eyes with clips. Her hair, once sleek, shining black, is now slightly faded in colour with long streaks of silver in the front. Her hair is always brushed and well-kept, though it has lost the bouncy life of youth and can now seem a little limp.
B'yir has the look of a noble woman, with high cheekbones, a pert mouth often painted a berry purple and slanted, dark brown eyes. She has a strong, proud jaw, a slightly rounded chin and rather immaculately shaped eyebrows. Her skin is starting to wrinkle with the years; crows feet at her eyes, and frown lines between her brows. Yet, she still maintains the dignified look that she always had as a youth. Her skin has also remained pale, despite working out under the sun. She does not tan, and has to cover herself up to avoid being burnt by the rays.
B'yir spends a great deal of time preening and taking care of her appearance and has a rather elaborate collection of jewellery and clothes. She’s often seen wearing rich shades of purple, set off by stunning golden-coloured jewellery. Long, tasselled skirts and tops with elaborate necklines are her preference for casual wear.
Personality: B’yir could be described as a cold, harsh woman and certainly not one of the first people you’d want to meet at the Weyr. She has an aloof and snobbish way about her and is often far too busy to stop and chat or offer any help – particularly when that person is a lower ranking rider or non-dragonrider. The only people worth knowing and spending time with – in her opinion – are those of rank. The movers and shakers, as it were. However, seeing her best friend O’ren disobeying and infuriating the notable people at Force does bring her great amusement – though she does well to hide it.
B'yir will generally do what she’s told to the best of her ability, putting in one hundred percent of effort into everything asked of her by her superiors. Buttering up to them, smiling, playing the friend. In this respect, B'lyir is very manipulative and two-faced, ensuring that she appears in a good light to the people who matter. She is extremely career-driven and would do anything to secure a rank within Force and make a name for herself. This nature means that she tends to bully those beneath her, not wanting to waste time getting to know them. Children are a nuisance. Candidates don’t show enough respect. Weyrlings are stupid and lazy. However, B’yir does respect intelligence, and, if she sees it in a lower ranking member of Force, she will try and use it to her advantage, bringing them under her wing, as it were, to bolster her own image.
Despite her flaws, B’yir is an intelligent woman who excels at problem-solving. She’s also a great woman to have in a panic situation as she has fantastic control over her emotions and is always level-headed.
B’yir, who is a natural at giving guarded-insults, can also take as good as she gets. Insults and angry glares bounce off of her harmlessly and she is never easily baited into a rage or upset.
She certainly does not believe in love – except, of course the love between rider and dragon – and has never shown any interest in getting involved with anyone. She has a lack of interest in intimacy in general and has not indulged in a night of passion for many, many years.
Flaws: Manipulative, two-faced, bully
Virtues: Intelligent, ambitious, level-headed and controlled
History: Blyir was taken in as a baby by a couple who believed themselves unable to have children and was raised as the daughter of a baker. It was only when she was a little older, around 6 turns, that she realised she looked nothing like her parents and started to question why. At her questioning they finally gave in and admitted the truth, telling Blyir that they were not her real parents. They had barely known her birth mother, though they suspect she had travelled across from Arcata to have her baby in secret, which could only mean that Blyir was the result of some fling or unwanted coupling.
The girl, utterly confused about why her mother had not wanted her, couldn’t help but feel sad and confused about what had happened and nothing her parents could do could help her understand that sometimes these things just happened. She suffered form a low self-esteem and became somewhat distant.
The situation was not helped when, a couple of turns later, her mother became pregnant. Blyir, now aged 8, was encouraged to help her father in the bakery, doing jobs that her mother would otherwise be doing. Fearful that she might lose the baby, attention shifted from Blyir to her mother. The local healer was called often, even when there was nothing wrong, and she was slaved on hand and foot by both Blyir and her father. Then, when the baby finally arrived, Blyir watched on jealously, feeling suddenly like an outsider. Her anger at being shoved to one side built and built and she found fun in making her little sister cry by taking her toys away or sitting and doing nothing whilst she toddled into the side of the table. This anger only grew worse, and eventually she began taking out her frustration on her friends and parents, too, finding comfort in the attention, even if it was of the negative kind.
When she was 13 turns, she ran away.
She spent the next few turns with a small group of orphans and runaways, begging and stealing on the streets of Force. She found work on occasions, helping out the tradesmen or sailors with small tasks, such as running messages or sweeping and clearing away after a day’s work. Yet, as the years passed and her life seemed to be going nowhere, Blyir realised that she needed to do something to turn her life around. She needed to become someone. She already knew her future if she stayed as she was, and it was not a happy picture. So, deciding to take matters into her own hands, she decided to go to the local Herders, offering to work for them in return for food and shelter. After asking around, she eventually succeeded in finding a herder who needed some help and settled into the basic chores of animal care. And so, her apprenticeship began.
However, her apprenticeship lasted only a little longer than a single turn after a mishap that saw the escape and death of livestock after she forgot to lock their pen after the evening feed. Whether it was the mistake of Blyir or the jealous antics of her fellow apprenticeship was never proven, but the mistake was unforgiveable and after helping to track down and rescue as many birds as possible, she was sent back out into the streets.
Almost 18 and with nowhere else to go, Blyir was forced to find money in other ways. She charmed drunken men in order to steal their money and even resorted to prostitution. This last act was what broke her. Desperate but not desperate enough to return to her ‘fake’ family she had not seen in many turns, she decided to use her money to hitch a ride to Arcata. Despite her common sense she believed that perhaps a better life awaited her there and that she’d find her real family who would accept her with open arms. She spent many months collecting enough marks to bribe a trader to take her across to Arcata. However, a few days before her planned trip a dragon came to Force and, whilst passing by to take a closer look, was drawn to one side by a rider.
Believing this to be her last shot at making something of herself, Blyir agreed to go and was whisked away to Force Weyr at the age of twenty, with the understanding that she had two years to attempt and impress to a dragon.
Whilst at the Weyr, she befriended the grumpy Ouren and the two were rarely seen apart. Others were mystified with how she managed to put up with his moods, but when they got to know her better, they realised why. Blyir was a hard woman to insult, tough and strong as they came. She was also a bit of a bully herself, pushing others around before they got a chance to push her.
One turn later, she impressed at the same hatching as Ouren, to a large brown by the name of Waroth. Since then B’yir has become even more ambitious and manipulative, striving for a rank within Force and doing just about anything to try and get it.
Dragon’s profile
Name: Waroth
Colour: Brown
Age: 23
Build: A large brown, wide at the hip and shoulder. A pale brown colour.
Personality: This large brown is possibly one of the most laziest beasts you’ve ever met, enjoying nothing more than to sun himself on his ledge all day long. Eating and sleeping are his most favourite things, though of course, he does enjoy a nice leisurely fly with his rider when the weather is fine. Oddly enough, his moods seem to be affected by the weather and when it is raining or overcast, he tends to be grumpy and anti-social. But, give him shining sun and clear blue skies and he’ll be rather energetic and content.
Like his rider, insults and teasing does not really affect him too much and he accepts them with neither humour nor irritation. Rather, he’ll give the dragon equivalent of a shrug and rolling of eyes and react with silence rather than anything else.
Subordinate dragons irritate him, particularly ‘mouthy’ blues and flittery little greens. As such, he is always insulting his best friend, Volitath’s, taste in females.
Waroth can often be seen bullying these subordinate dragons, by shoving at them as he passes or grumbling angrily if they get too close. He’s also been known to wait for a blue or green to make a kill before going and stealing it out from under their nose.
As far as this male is concerned, females might as well not even exist. The brown had a few successful flights in his youth; new to his wings and to the prospect of mating, but quickly decided that it wasn’t worth all the effort. After all, the females he mated with ended up following him around for a time afterwards, being little pests and trying to get his attention when he’d much rather be sleeping. As such, Waroth has not taken part in a flight for many, many years. Occasionally the odd green does catch his eye but after much thought, he decides that he’d rather just have a nice nap instead.
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Kimaria
Community Member
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Kimaria
Community Member
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Posted: Mon Jun 28, 2010 @ 09:20pm
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Posted: Sun May 24, 2009 @ 08:39pm
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Najiyya and Faeqa - 1st rp
(( will be logged as soon as sub forum is created ))
"Where are you going at this hour, Naji?" Faeqa cracked open a tired eye and shot a glance across at her sister who was slinking off towards the entrance of their shared den. She was always doing this; doing things she shouldn't be, getting herself into awkward situations. Faeqa knew what would happen. It always happened! Najiyya would get herself into trouble and then those brown eyes - eyes they both shared - would look to her sister and she would have to get her out of the mess she'd gotten herself tangled up in.
Najiyya's sheepish face said it all. "No where, Si-si."
"It doesn't look like nothing from where I'm lying. The moon is up. It's dark. You have no reason to be leaving the den now."
Najiyya's ears dipped. "But Si-si, you don't understand."
"Exactly. I don't understand. I never understand. Oh, love, come here and tell me what's wrong." The ginger pelted female pulled herself up into a sitting position and lifted a paw to hug her sister close.
Najiyya sank easily into her sister's embrace, sighing from the comfort it seemed to bring her. "There's this thing, you see..."
"A thing?" Faeqa felt her heart sink. This spelt trouble indeed.
"Yes. A big thing, really. Oh, Fae, please. Please. I know what you're going to say. You always do!"
"By the Sultan, what have you done now?"
Najiyya pulled away and paced back and forth a few steps. Her brilliant white pelt was clearly visible even in the poor light, but her face was shadowed by that ginger marking. Najiyya was the shorter, fuller one of the two. She was curvy and voluptious and did not blink an eye at intimacy.
Faeqa, on the other hand, was trim and proper. All legs, slim in the face and one who never broke the rules. She was not the prettiest of the siblings but she had good favour in that she never stepped out of place. She knew her position as female and was quite happy with it. She had no desire to rebel or cause mischief. Not like her younger sibling...
"I didn't mean for things to get so out of paw, Si-si. It's just that...well, I've never met anyone quite like him." She turned her head away.
"Him? HIM!? Najiyya, please, tell me you haven't."
"I think this is it, Fae. This is love."
"Love? Females in this pride do not love. We belong. We belong with our male, not with any other, not unless he wishes it. You know that as well as I do. Oh, love, what have you done? You could be beaten for this! Beaten or worse! Do you truly wish to cause me pain when all I've ever done is cared and loved you?"
"But this is different. He makes me feel so...special!"
"You've slept with him, haven't you?"
Najiyya hesitated and changed the subject. "Anyway Si-si, love or not. He knows I cannot go with him. A rogue such as him does not belong here. He knows that. And I cannot follow him. Unrequited love isn't wrong, is it?"
"Yes, Naji, very wrong!" She was on her paws, moving towards her sister now. "What am I going to do with you? What if he finds out?"
"He won't!"
"But what if he does?!"
Najiyya frowned and turned to face her sister. "I'm going to see him tonight. I'm going to put an end to it."
"You better had. You were lucky enough the first time you got yourself infatuated with a rogue. Must you continue to test your luck like this?"
Najiyya reached out and touched her muzzle to her sister's, hoping to extinguish some of that anger. It seemed to work a little. Faeqa nuzzled each other back and after a moment the tension eased.
Najiyya backed out towards the entrance again, but she spared one last nuzzle for her sister, giving her a kiss across the muzzle. "Love you."
"I know." Faeqa sighed, returning to her sleep. She wouldn't sleep though. Not until she knew this was over and the morning brought with it a new and eventless day.
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Kimaria
Community Member
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Kimaria
Community Member
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Posted: Wed Dec 24, 2008 @ 02:26pm
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Posted: Wed Sep 24, 2008 @ 08:25pm
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SoA Healer RP Contest
.I shall save you.Your Username: Kimaria
Lioness's Name: Ubulawu
Meaning: An african herb used to induce or clarify dreams of ancestral spirits
Prompt 1:
Ubulawu is a jittery, nervous creature who is constantly jumping at her own shadow. It seems that this part of her persona might have been come about during her very early childhood though she never speaks of it. She is a quiet, gentle creature who is softly spoken and patient. Yet, behind that quiet smile and those placid eyes she hides a deep sadness born from memories that none but her close companion, Dorai, know about. When she is alone she tends to bottle up feelings and directs conversation towards the other person. With time, it'll become clear that she's hiding a great hurt and maybe be drawn to speak a little bit more and open up. Shy and nervous as she is, she always does her best to make people think good of her. Ubulawu seems constantly worried about what people think about her and whether her reputation is good. Because of this she tries to be the best she can be by hunting, offering a kindly ear and generally being as helpful as she can. Ubu is a fantastic listener, unjudgemental and understanding. When Dorai is at her side she seems to be more confident, almost as if having the hare close by she is somehow resistant to being hurt or risk ruining the good impressions she so wishes to create. When she gets nervous she often gets uncontrollable shakes and freezes up until she's able to be calmed again.
Prompt 2:
She jolted into wakefulness with a dry croak and pressed herself against the tree she had been sleeping against, shivering uncontrollably.
Another nightmare.
She swallowed back the tightness in her throat and let her nervous gaze brush across her immediate landscape.
"Dorai?" Her voice was like the whisper of the wind.
Nothing.
The lioness hesitated a moment. Her legs were shaking from the effects of that terrible nightmare and the very memory of it had her quaking in fear: Great claws reaching for her, sliding through her fur, pulling her back into a place of darkness; a place she feared with every fibre of her being. She'd had these nightmares for as long as she remembered and the only person who could help ease them was the kindly hare who had made it her duty to care for the needy lioness.
But the herb the hare used to turn evil nightmares into pleasant dreams had been deplenished and since then they had returned with a vengeance. She knew what they were - these nightmares. They were recollections, fragments of memory, from when she had been nothing more than a cub. It were those memories that had shaped her, maybe even ruined her, but she couldn't forget.
She couldn't ever forget.
A rustle behind her startled the lioness and she jerked to her paws, whipping round in terror. "W-who's there?"
"Don't worry. It's only me." A small brown face pushed through the undergrowth, a face set with big, kindly eyes. Two large ears lifted and after a moment of wriggling the hare emerged to sit before the lioness. She took a moment to sit up on her haunches and groom her whiskers.
"Dorai! Where were you? I...I had a nightmare again." The lioness seemed to cave in on herself, partly with shame and partly with fear.
"Hush, hush." The hare replied kindly. "You're awake now and I'm back with good news. Whilst you slept I went to investigate. You're right. There is a pride near here."
Ubulawu lifted an ear hopefully.
"I haven't learned too much but I think they're the ones."
"Healers?"
The hare nodded. "It appears so."
"I know you think this is a good idea, Dorai, but you forget. You're the healer. You can work magic with those herbs. What can I do? I'm still a beginner and what will they think of me when they learn I'm a hare's apprentice?"
The hare rolled her eyes. "Come on Ubulawu, you worry far too much. Besides, you're coming along nicely. You're already learning the names of herbs and that's a good start. Besides, there's other ways to heal, you know."
"There is?"
"Yes." The hare crept closer and set a tiny paw on the lioness' larger one. "You have good ears. Better ears than mine. Remember that rogue we met a while back, the injured one? I could help heal those scratches but you did far more than that. You healed his heart and you did that by listening and encouraging. You gave him hope for a better future. You healed him."
Ubulawu nodded but she didn't really look convinced.
"Trust me. With a pride you'll gain your confidence. You'll feel safe and secure and who knows, maybe being with others will keep the nightmares at bay without any herbs."
The lioness looked across at the horizon and wondered silently; could she really find peace there? Could she truly find respite from the cruelty of her own mind? Dorai seemed to think so. Besides, the hare was right. She couldn't keep on going like this. She had to at least try to put the past behind her. Maybe a pride was a good idea and there was certainly none better than a pride of healers.
Her heart lifted and in that moment hope gave her wings and set her shaky paws into motion.
Dorai, seeing her words had moved the lioness, said nothing. She moved to hop wordlessly at her companion's side, ears up and eyes bright.
Together they walked into their future.
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Kimaria
Community Member
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Kimaria
Community Member
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Posted: Fri Jul 25, 2008 @ 06:25pm
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SoA Megaplot
So. The way was open.
What had first been seen as a natural disaster had actually proved a strike of good luck. A blessing in disguise!
A feeling of pride swelled in Mchawi's chest and she took a few moments to practise the words; 'I told you so', in her head. She'd told her brother to stop moping, told him that everything would turn out all right. They had only to wait, bide their time for the perfect moment. And here it was! She couldn't wait to rub it in.
So, with a smirk on her maw and a proud tilt to her strong-featured face, the witch of the interlopers strode confidently to the last place she'd seen her sibling, a rocky little grove that had become their 'unofficial' meeting place.
"Msiba~" She called to him in her sing-song way, rounding the corner to peer at him with the sharp glint of a secret shining in her eyes. "There you are! Come on now, wipe that miserable expression off your face. You're so much more handsome when you wear a smile Msiba." She hesitated, smiled slyly. "Besides, you won't be brooding when I tell you what I've just discovered."
Msiba. Often, it seemed to the lithe, handsome lion that he had been far too aptly named. Disaster, it seemed, tended to follow Msiba like a hunter the hunted. As a cub, he had always had the worst luck. It was how he had grown to be what he was, a handsome young devil with far too clever a tongue for anyone’s good. He could talk himself in or out of anything, absolutely anything he wanted. There was just no point in wasting so fine a gift that nature had bestowed upon him, and his childhood years had supplied him with more than enough opportunities to hone this special talent of his.
As had become a routine over the last few weeks, Msiba sat with his back leaning against a large rock, sitting stone still and staring off blankly into space, as he pondered what he was to do. They needed a way in, desperately. It was no good that he and his small band of lions had already shown up with their own bonded birds. If they were left on the dark side of the pride, all of the efforts they had put in would be worthless.
That was the first of what Msiba deemed disasters. The second was the earthquake. For a while, in the midst of all the chaos that the quake had caused, he had been afraid they would be separated. Still, by some turn of good fortune, at least in Msiba’s eyes, they had managed to stay together. For that he was unspeakably thankful. There were some iffy characters in their little outfit, but a team was a team.
The handsome lion’s head lifted slightly as the familiar ring of Mchawi’s voice floated toward him on the wind, and then her head appeared around the corner, peering intently at him. Glinting. There was something in them. Triumph. A secret. She always had a certain look on her face when she knew something he did not. Oh, Mchawi.
“I have to brood,” He started. “Because if I don’t, which one of you will?” He rose to his paws, staring at her cautiously. “What do you know that I don’t?”
She sat in front of him, not too close, but close enough so that he could see the slight smile lifting the corner's of her mouth.
It was a long moment before she spoke, seemingly content to watch the sway of her tail for a while. Then, painfully slowly she returned her gaze to him, that odd glint still visible there; tempting, teasing...
Deciding to ignore his initial question she focused on the butt of the conversation, the reason why she had sought him out so soon after leaving his side. The rift. The way into the pride. She drew in a deep breath and then opened her mouth to speak, a fang glinting in her parted maw.
"Remember when I told you not to lose hope?" She continued with barely a pause. "Well I was right, Msiba. The angry thunder of the earth has opened up a path into the valley." She eyed him, waiting to see what expression would play on his face: disbelief, joy, excitement? "This is our chance, Msiba, the will of the very rock itself."
A soft caw echoed from one of the rocky ridges to her left and if one were to look up they would see the shape of a white-necked raven huddled in one of the crevices, one beady eye half-open.
A small frown flitted across his brow, as he watched Mchawi. That look, how he despised that look. It did not sit well with Msiba to be kept in the dark. It never had, and it never would. But if his sister had a flaw, it was that she knew him far too well. She always seemed to know just what buttons to press.
Time seemed to freeze as she sat, and for the longest while, simply watched as her own tail swayed gently. Msiba stood, still as ever, as if he could will himself into rock, watching. She would crack soon. Very soon, she would crack. She had to.
Finally! Though his face betrayed little emotion, he felt relief flooding him as, finally, Mchawi began to speak. And what news. She spoke of a path. Into the valley? For a while the blank look remained on Msiba’s face as he processed the information.
Then, ever so slightly, there appeared to be what seemed like a mixed expression of relief, triumph, joy. Disbelief, that, too, could have easily crossed his face, though it mingled there with the rest of the feelings that were displayed on his face.
“A path, you say,” He murmured softly, suddenly withdrawing into himself, as his mind went to work to fully understand what this meant. Then, just as quickly, he returned, his eyes glinting with triumph above all. “You were right, Mchawi. Never lose hope.”
Mchawi nodded and one could almost see her ego swelling, the way she puffed out her chest and raised her head that much higher. Siblings they may have been, but they worked well together. And though she would deny it if asked, she had high respects for Msabi. She would follow his lead, just as the others would.
She could see the wheels turning over ideas in his mind and wondered what he would come up with, what intelligent, awe-inspiring sppeches he would give.
"I'll leave you to your thoughts." She replied. "If there's anything else I can do to help, you have only to say the word." She stood, glanced up at the raven as if considering something. Then, after a moment she stole another look in Msabi's direction. "Would you like me to rouse the others?"
For a moment, he was silent again, which, one had to admit, was unusual enough for Msiba. His gift from birth had been speech, and use it he had. All his life. So perhaps it was somewhat unsettling, even for himself, that so few words had escaped his muzzle in the short time since Mchawi’s return.
He watched his sister once more, and then a smile flitted across his muzzle, which then began a low chuckle. “Proud of yourself, huh?” He said, with his customary cocky smile. “Don’t worry, you should be.” It would be difficult to get him to admit it, but he held much more respect for Mchawi than one would imagine from simply watching the two interact.
He shook his head, his mind already spinning as he sought to take full advantage of the newest developments of the earthquake’s repercussions. Perhaps, he thought, luck was turning their way. “For now, my thoughts and I alone are more than enough,” He said, his eyes turning skyward as he sought out Werevu. The cape vulture had, since they had first met, become a close friend and often co-conspirator. “Just tell them what you have told me, if you want to, and tell them Msiba has more inspirational talks in store for them.” He grinned, his eyes returning from combing through the skies, and rested on Mchawi. What, he wondered, would he ever do without his sister.
“And tomorrow,” He added. “Show me this path. And we’ll be in. Sooner than we imagined.”
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