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 Posted: Thu Nov 06, 2008 10:37 pm
 Name: Allohra Family: Djardi Gender: Female Stage: Journeyman Seller of: Letheian Essences. Refers to the River Lethe, whose waters are said to induce amnesia. Potions that allow the consumer to forget people, places, or incidents. Formed by Allohra out of desperation to relieve herself of the pain of being seperated from her first love, the concoction causes the consumer to breathe out a visible cloud of vapor containing the unwanted memory. In order to prevent re-entry, the vapor can be trapped and bottled. Allohra keeps a collection of memories in her possession, in case the user changes their mind. Eyes: Green Horns: Curved behind ears, with gold plating around the base and tip. Hairstyle: Short and slightly curly. Strawberry blonde or reddish pink. Personality: Bold but effeminate, Allohra finds herself more comfortable in the company of fellow female Usari. She finds males to be a bit boorish, the Ba'al and Pivito especially, and generally avoids their part of the caravan. Always more interested in the softer arts, she was expected to follow in her parents footsteps and be apprenticed into the Aishe family, but her penchant for botany and her desire to help others eventually set her apart. Despite her bluntness, she's secretly unsure of herself, and being kind and considerate is more of a need than a gesture, as a form of self-validation. Position/Expression: Considering, mysterious or slightly suggestive, her stance and behavior invokes her Aishe heritage, but also suggests a hint of sadness and past regrets. Outfit: Asymetrical dress with a petal-like ruff collar. Color and patterns artist's choice. One half sleeveless and one half draped sleeve. Items?: Crystal decanter filled with a dark, slightly smoking liquid. Perhaps a skull with a flower sticking from it in the background. Etc: Allorha's potion is rumored to be formed by taking a mere drop of liquid diluted from the dark waters of Lethe itself in combination with items associated with the person/event the customer wishes to forget. Her business is fairly confidential and her clientelle mostly consists of young Usari like herself that are discontent with Baba's choice for their engagements, or those who have fallen for someone outside their station. Allohra's own personal experience is something she keeps close to heart. References: If applicable. http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a354/ravane/usarifemme.jpg , http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a354/ravane/allohra.jpgQuote: The caravan's matchmaker is a terrifying old Ursari, who will at one time or another, hold a young Ursari's life in her hands. She is usually referred to as Baba, a name that does not suit her well. Your Ursari has been called to her presence to discuss his or her options, which could be good or bad. Why were they called there? How high is your Ursari's stature, and how could this effect the match? How does your Ursari feel about this? Allohra swirled the contents of the goblet absently, the fragrant amber liquid smoking slightly and fogging the inside of the crystalline decanter. She sighed heavily. Out of habit, her eyes fell over an elaborate painting that was the only feature of an otherwise nearly empty and dark canvas tent. She shifted a little. The crate she was sitting on was uncomfortable, but she liked the bare, intimidating interior it helped create. It made her customers feel their secrecy was valued. Hearing a muffled scrape outside, she quickly drew a burlap sheet over the artwork opposite. The subject looked uncomfortably like her, albeit considerably more buxom and alluring. She couldn't remember who painted it anymore, but she always felt better knowing it was near when she met with clients. She set the decanter on the floor and fished her firestarter from a belt pouch. Allohra waited patiently in the dark. Without warning, the tent flap suddenly shifted, and a young Usari boy slipped in, spilling starlight from the sky outside into the murky tent interior. He blinked uncertainly, and before he could get his bearings Allohra struck the tip of the firestarter against the top of the crate. “Welcome, friend,” she purred. She threw back the cowl of the black cape swallowing her figure, to reveal bright green eyes and tart pinkish hair. She turned deftly to the crate and lifted the lid, fishing out an oil lamp, and lit it before the little stick between her fingers burnt out. Meanwhile, the young man shuddered and winced at the sudden light. He huddled against the far side of the tent and hid his face in his golden blonde hair, triggering a hint of memory... ~ It was raining. Not that it mattered to a certain pink-haired youth. She lounged around a special heat lamp lovingly entangled with another Usari. Her partner's own golden hair spilled comfortably out and over the pillows arranged around the tent's floor. “I have something I'd like to show you,” she began suddenly. She playfully extracted herself from the other woman's arms, yellow ringlets bouncing around her pouting lips. A much younger Allohra smiled impishly, masking her delight. “Oh?” She purred coyly, following the spritely youth through the partition and into her studio...And stopped, staring and open-mouthed. Before her was a beautiful painting of a luscious green eyed figure, whose playful pink hair framed a cherubic face. She was sprawled across a studio floor, nude but for the sheet she laid on. “M..Me? Ravane, you shouldn't have...” Allohra stopped then, enveloped eagerly in the other woman's embrace... ~ “Mother sent me,” the boy began, uncomfortable in the sudden silence. Allohra shook her head, disoriented. She felt like she should remember something, but her mind presented a blank. Just deja-vu, she told herself, straightening her shoulders and assuming an open smile. “Your mother? How does she know of my...services?” At this question the boy shifted uncomfortably. “My mother is Ravane Aishe. She said you'd known her once. Mother sent me to you for help.” He took a deep breath. “There's a girl...” As the boy began to weave a tale of heartbreak and woe, Allohra allowed herself to puzzle over his strange introduction. Ravane? Of the Aishe? ... ~ “Ravane of the Aishe?” Baba's gravelly voice rasped over her lover's name with a callousness that set her teeth on edge. Allohra just nodded mutely. This was her moment. Her only chance. Surely Baba could be brought to reason... “Ah. Young Ravane.” Baba's grim countenance brightened somewhat, and she allowed Allohra a sly smile. “A talented painter.” She pretended to muse thoughtfully. “A bit too talented, I should think, for one who has not even been accepted into an apprenticeship.” On the verge of panic, Allohra tensed, but before she could retort, Baba interrupted her. “Besides, she has been promised to another just this morning. You should congratulate her. She is to wed my grandson, a wholly talented artist in his own right. A splendid match if I do say so myself.” The sound of Allohra's heartbeat drowned out the rest of Baba's speech. She felt hollow, empty, listless... ~ Recovering from another moment of wrestling with lost recollections, she half-listened, unsettled, to the boy's tale as he wound down to present day, and was unsuprised at it's telling conclusion. “Baba has said she is for another. I cannot live without her, and I cannot bear the thought of her with someone else...” His voice faltered then, and he whispered, slumping down to a sitting position on the floor, “...so I must forget her.” Allohra smiled sympathetically, putting a hand on the boy's knee. “Be brave. You are young, and will no doubt meet another...” She stopped then as he shook his head emphatically, eyes brimming with tears. She did not doubt his sincerity, and his tale moved her, but she needed to talk to him more to determine this wasn't just another rash decision of the untried youth. Later that evening, Allohra returned to her quarters, swirling the smoky contents of the vial she'd finally used to capture the memories of the listless Usari who'd sought her unique talents that evening. “Memories,” she whispered to herself. She placed the stoppered container on a rack of similar items, affixed it with a neatly written label, and went to slide the secret door back over their valuable contents, but something inside her made her stop. Her hand trembled as it wandered into the very back of the cabinet until her fingers seized upon a vial wrapped with a lock of bright golden hair. The label read only “Do not open.” Allohra made to disobey, then paused, and instead simply raised it to her nose, breathing deeply. Cinnamon. The musty smell of old paint. A flash of sunlight, a smile. Warmth... And pain. Allohra reeled, shocked somewhat by the contents of this, her only lost memory. She put it away and withdrew quickly, and it was then that she realized her face was streaked with tears. Whatever that vial contained, she was still not prepared to face it. As she climbed into bed, she wondered why the boy's story had seemed so dauntingly familiar.
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Posted: Thu Nov 06, 2008 10:49 pm
 Name: Felicia Family: Luminista Gender: Female Stage: Apprentice Seller of: Telling fortunes (tarot cards) Eyes: Chocolate brown Horns: Curled and wavy backwards Skin colour: A dark mocha brown. Comparible to the colour of female mallard ducks. Hairstyle: Darker brown, long and very wavy (almost curly) Personality: A calm personality, with a bit of optimism, although this may be counterintuitive for someone who can see the futures for people. However something taught to her by her Master is that fate is what you make of it, and even Felicia's fortunes can be changed if the querent truely desires to change their future. Which is of course the reason why Felicia chose her cards. It is this knowledge that gives Felicia's mind a bit of peace, and something she tries to impart on her clients. With Felicia's friends, she finds herself comfortable around them. They live their lives in reckless abandon (at least to her), and choose to make their own fates. This gives a balance to Felicia's life, and a view of the world where it can show her there is more than black and white with the cards. With the Veduni beginning their strict limitations against the Luminista in the caravan, this bit of optimism seems to be failing. While marriages are most often within families, Felicia has seen some worrisome things in the cards, and has a secret fear of the Veduni becoming so powerful that her entire family is reabsorbed into the dark magic clan. She doesn't dislike the Veduni outright, nor has she actually seen herself marrying a Veduni in her cards (that is almost too specific for the cards to tell), but she knows of the long-standing feud between the Luminista and the Veduni and fears what the Veduni might do to her clan, especially knowing that some of them seek to assimilate the Luminista again. She does have a friendly acquaintance with a younger Veduni, although nothing more than that. Most of the other families, Felicia has little problem with. Even though she has not been apprenticed, ursari from other families, most young although some are old, come to have her tell their futures with her cards. She has a friendly relationship with regulars who come back to her, but she makes sure that they do not come back very often. The cards will not dictate your life for you. Position/Expression: Holding or dealing out cards with a faint smile. Outfit: Head: A primarily green and brown handkerchief wrapped as a bandana on her head. Face: Nothing. Torso: White ruffled shirt showing off her neck and shoulders, ends just before her elbows. Needs something else here, like a black corset or a sleeveless vest. Up to the artist. Arms: Three bangles on each wrist, and one on each arm has a pendant dangling from it. Legs: A long skirt, two or three layers, natural earthy colours with a splash of bright green and possibly yellow. Two or three "chains" or links of gold coins wrapped loosely around her waist. A scarf underneath the gold coins is also wrapped around her waist and kind of acts as a belt. Items?: Fortune cards, bones References: If applicable. Hair concept, except way darker brown -- Horns concept, although a bit longer and has a bigger "curl" on the end part -- Tarot cards, although what is normally white or lighter toned border would be browner, more faded-------- Your Ursari has not been able to find a master and cannot be considered an adult until she or he does. There are two main types of Masters, Tutors who focus on one apprentice only and Teachers, who focus on a large group of children. With everything in the Ursari world, there are many tiers within Masters, depending on their skill. Why hasn't your Ursari found a Master? How does it make them feel? What do they do to get one?Felicia bit her lower lip, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes and feeling more humilated than before her angry outburst. "She.. she's dead?" Felicia whispered, fearing if she raised her voice she'd start screaming. The older woman grasped Felicia's shaking hands. "I am sorry, Felicia. Halanna passed quietly last night." Felicia closed her eyes, wanting to block out the world. The day before had been so bright. Finally, Halanna was going to take her on as an apprentice. Felicia could finally have a Master and begin to be considered as an adult. But now her last chance had died when Halanna had taken a bad fall on a horse, and even the healers had not been able to mend the broken bones and organs inside of her. And now Halanna was dead, and Felicia left adrift, her only major talent to tell fortunes with her cards, and there was not a Master in the caravan who could help her talents grow the way Halanna could. She truely did feel sadness at Halanna's passing. In the past months Felicia had grown fond of the old ursari, who had expanded her talents beyond cards and leaves, and it was Halanna that had inspired Felicia to try and learn bonecraft as well. She was one of the older ones of the caravan, her eyes beginning to go in her later years. But it had done nothing to diminish the fierceness which burned inside her. Hence why she had gotten on that horse that day, to collect her own herbs and leaves. Felicia would have done it for her, had she been apprenticed already to Halanna. Another knot of pain writhed in her stomach and Felicia buckled in, tears falling from her eyes. The next few days were difficult. All of Felicia's calm optimism had faded after of Halanna's death. She constantly scanned her cards for answers. Why had she not seen Halanna's death? Shouldn't she have seen some drastic change? Losing your only chance for a Master who taught a similar craft to you, who was willing to put in the time and effort to help her become an adult member of the ursari, was drastic enough for Felicia. So why hadn't the fates decided to tell her? Her grief was so great that her sister, an empath who had been mated to another, had stopped coming to their house caravan for the meantime. She had been able to do nothing for the distraught Felicia. And so her grief went on. One night as she lay in her bed, staring up at the stars through the window in the caravan, she felt as if she drifted off to sleep, the calm abyss that halted the overwhelming sadness inside of her. Just as she closed her eyes, she heard a voice. "So what will you do all day, lazy bones, mope to the end of days?" Halanna's voice cracked through the caravan, which was oddly empty as Felicia snapped awake and looked around. Her eyes widened at the sight of the old ursari. "I'm going crazy. I've finally snapped." Halanna rolled her eyes. "You will if all you do is drive away your family, your friends, your future." Felicia curled into a ball. "You were my future. Now there is no one." Halanna huffed loudly and whacked the side of Felicia's bed with her cane. "What are you, daft? No... you're in grief. Its hard to remember, when you're not the one left behind..." The ursari mused. "No, Felicia." She sat on the bed next to the young girl. "You have to be strong; strong in the face of what fate will throw at you. You remember what I told you, right?" Felicia paused, then nodded. "You make your own fate." Halanna grinned and patted her. "Yes, exactly. That is the reason why we look at the cards, the bones, and the leaves. To change our lives for the better. And what you need to do, girl, is get better. And I need you to do something for me." Felicia sat up a little, still disturbed at the sight of her dead possible-Master. But the grief had made her mind shake loose a little, and it didn't seem as odd as it should. "What, Halanna?" "You need to go to Baba. Have her find you a nice lad." Halanna patted her knee, without a care in the world it seemed. "WHAT?! How can you ask me of this? Besides, no man will want to marry me. They think .. I am cursed." Halanna snorted. "Oh, they'll get over it. You are not the only one to go almost mad with grief at the loss of a loved one, girl. But you need to do this for me. Trust me that this is the path you need to be on. This will lead you to the one who can help you." Felicia stared into the eyes of the ghost Halanna, her age lines faded and her eyes brighter than they had been in years. And she trusted her. Even if it seemed like madness, she trusted the old ursari to know what she was doing. Felicia nodded slowly. "I will.. go to the Baba." She swallowed, her throat tight. "Good girl." Halanna patted her knee again. "I would not lead you astray. But your future lies on this path. Remember that. Now get some rest." Felicia nodded, lying back down and closing her eyes. But she needed to ask... "Are you happy where you are, Halanna?" "Oh yes. Very much so. But now is not your time. Go to sleep." Felicia slept. In the morning, Felicia awoke to her younger brothers shaking her awake, the family needing help to groom the horses. The caravan was due to move in a few days after a bit of rest. Felicia got up and dressed, washing her face briefly. She paused by her simple table, where her cards lay and drew the top card, worn with age yet the colours remained bright. The Star. Felicia smiled. A bright new future lay ahead of her. Perhaps the pain would never fade, but like Halanna had said, she could not hold herself back and let herself drown in sorrow. She needed to grow. She needed to live. And she would see the Baba and find where this path led.
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Posted: Thu Nov 06, 2008 10:51 pm
Name: Tahlri
Family: Ba’al
Gender: Female
Stage: Journeyman
Seller of: Shadow Blade Dances – Tahlri’s signature move that she usually uses as a last resort or simply to scare off an opponent. Want Tahlri to perform her blade dance for you? It’s gonna cost, lots.
Eyes: Slanting amethyst orbs gleam with a sly, flirtatious light as they seem to reflect any bit of light and color that drifts along them. A far lighter shade of purple eye shadow graces her eyes.
Horns: Two spiraling, gold tipped ebony horns in the same shape and length as a standard dragon horn. Wrapped around one is a strand of silver pearls, with a amber droplet pendant hanging from the very tip.
Hairstyle: Curly, unruly and unwilling to be tamed, this mass of ebony must be kept tied back with a string of amber beads, with the ends of the string baring only one bead at each end. Tahlri’s bangs are curly, and thick with the longest one passing between her eyes and dangling just above her lips. Much longer bangs frame her face the tips of which dance on her chest.
Personality: Flirty, self assured and more than capable of kissing a person as she is of killing them, Tahlri knows how to charm and scare her opponents without a second thought. A true lover of all things that glitters and gleams, she’ll hand you a deal with a knife at the throat and no room to let you say no. Keeping everyone at bay, Tahlri serves only herself and no one else, which often leads to her getting into all manner of trouble which of course always leads to her having to perform a blade dance.
Position/Expression: Pouting playfully with one finger on her lips while her other hand rests on the hilt of her sword. Her head is tilted with one eye closed, revealing the full extent of her violet eye shadow.
Outfit: A crimson belly dancer’s top, leaves her midriff exposed revealing the star shaped birthmark on her stomach. A thick leather belt with a silver flame buckle inlaid with a ruby rests on the waist of her wrapped skirt, which is simply a crimson skirt with a slit down the middle to allow her more movement when fighting. Her skirt and top are trimmed in silver beads. Wrapped trice around her right hand is a thin black robe bracelet with an amber pendant dangling from it.
Items?: A long sword similar to a katana with a leather wrapped hilt capped in gold, and the sheath which is also leather wrapped capped in gold, settled at her hip.
Etc: Her feet are fawn shaped from the ankle down, and her tail sweeps the ground, in the same curly consistency as her hair. Her skin is dark tanned. A series of white scars crisscross along her arms and legs, as well.
References: Character Sheet | Sword 1 | Sword 2 | Sword 3 | Horns 1 | Horns 2 | Hooves/Feet
---- Prompt 2 Response ---
‘Baba…Baba…Baba!’
The name danced through Tahlri’s head until she was sure it was the only thing she think of, and it was driving her crazy. What was so scary about the wrinkly old Ursari anyway? She tried to reason but the answer rang loud and clear, everything was scary about Baba. The way she looked, the way she spoke, even the way she moved was more than enough to jar this little ebony haired vixen.
Tugging lightly on the hem of her skirt, she glanced about nervously all the while trying to fight down the butterflies and other creatures massing in her stomach. No, no, no! She had to fight this…Baba wasn’t scary. Baba wasn’t scary…Paling more and more by the minute, the mantra was having even less of an effect on her frayed state of mind now than when she had been pulled from her lessons.
“Baba wants to see you.” Her master had said pulling her away from her sparring partner and the rest of the students. The surprise of it had silenced the usually feisty girl in a heartbeat and had left her more than just a little unbalanced and numb. Of course the mantra had helped for a time, until she’d been left kneeling on the plush crimson cushion, waiting for the elder Ursari.
Now, looking around she found herself wondering just what Baba could possibly want with her. Of course she already had a general idea of that but still…she couldn’t help but wonder about the true specifics of it all. Baba was the caravan matchmaker, which meant the old Ursari could only have one thing to discuss or rather…shove down her throat, a possible match. Oh of course she had a feeling she wasn’t going to particularly like this match but that was the way this world worked, sadly.
Tugging on her hair now, she drew in a deep breath and jumped as the silks at the back of the tent fluttered and the dreaded Baba entered. Positively shaking now, the young warrior could hardly keep the stammer from her voice as she leaned forward touching her forehead to the ground before sitting up slowly. “G-good morning Baba.” Her voice was reed thin and if it had been any other day, she might have just smacked herself.
“Good morning child.” Slowly and sagely the elder opened the dusty, leather bound book before her and began turning the pages obviously looking for something, while Tahlri was doing her best to stop her twitching and shaking.
“Daughter of Yui Wei and the blade dancer Zei Fong, Tahlri. Apprenticed to Master Yoro, for four years before beginning the trial of a journeyman.” Pausing Baba looked up, staring at the fidgeting girl before continuing, “You are a rather hard girl to track down, Tahlri. I would have thought the daughter of such a high ranking family would be more receptive to such a proposal as this.”
Swallowing down the fear, Tahlri forced herself to straighten remembering her mother’s chiding when she’d stubbornly said she wasn’t going to see Baba, earlier. Her mother was right of course, the woman always was but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to rebel against whatever match they had found for her. Even with the thought of rebelling in mind, she still found herself thoroughly shaken at the thought of trying to turn down any prospective suitors and of course upsetting Baba wasn’t too high up there on her list of priorities for the day.
“With all due respect Baba…I honestly do not think I am ready to consider any proposals.” Pausing for a moment to gauge the woman’s reaction, which was null, she continued, “Furthermore I would like to continue my training.” Physically she had assumed the icy stance required by all warriors, especially assassins, but in her mind, she was a nervous wreck. What if Baba decided to reprimand her for this? Or worst yet…what if this little outburst sullied her family’s name for generations to come? Tahlri’s mind was a mess now, all the ‘what if’s’ slowly spiraling further and further into the madness of the abyss as she worried herself silly, while the elder Ursari seemed to be going over her words carefully.
“You wish…to continue your studies…before considering this proposal?” A swift nod and Baba continued, “Your parents did warn me this would happen…” Sighing the elder woman shut the book slowly, “Very well. We will resume this conversation at a later date.”
Bowing once again, Tahlri rose and began to back out of the tent, when a final statement from the woman made her freeze. “This last proposal was from Master Yoro’s son.”
As the realization sunk in, Tahlri fled. Master Yoro’s son, Zephyr! That...that.. jerk! Once she was outside and well out of ear shot of Baba, the young Ursari warrior gave a shriek of frustration as she stormed home. Her parents were going to get a very nice piece of her mind about this.
Zephyr, of all people really!
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Posted: Thu Nov 06, 2008 10:55 pm
Name: Eri’del
Family: Aishe
Gender: Female
Stage: Apprentice
Seller of: Song Weaving – The main, and toughest task of song weaving is to create a song. It takes a while for one to finish making a song; a lot of editing usually goes on in the process. Once this is done however, next is the tricky part. The song has to be woven into tapestries to preserve it and allows others to learn of it.
Eyes: Emerald green
Horns: A creamy white, with silver circle markings.
Hairstyle: Eri’s teal coloured hair is mostly wavy, though it curls into ringlets at the ends. Her hair is parted on the left side, with a wavy fringe almost covering her right eye. Her hair is of a medium length; it ends a few inches past her shoulders. Part of Eri’s hair on the left side is loosely braided and held with a wrap.
Skintone: A light tan
Personality: Eri’del is usually in a bright mood, and is a bubbly individual that loves to interact with others and explore new places. Eri is inquisitive of the things she has not seen before and usually asks many questions about it to satisfy her curiosity, often driving the answerer to sheer annoyance by her babbling. Eri however, has a good heart, and feels guilty whenever one snaps at her for asking too many questions, but she sincerely wants to learn more. The ursari can be heard humming a tune even when she is not Song Weaving. Behind this cheery face is a girl that can be very serious in her work and is fiercely dedicated to it.
Position/Expression: A thoughtful look while holding a pen and paper or weaving?
Outfit: Her top is similar to that in the ref below, however, the outer blouse is of a aquamarine colour and the inner part is black with silver patterns. She also wears a flowing skirt with bells crossing at the hips.
Items?: Eri dons a headpiece similar to the one in the ref below and wears silver dangly earrings.
Etc: Mostly, you have artistic freedom because I’m not very good at creativity. |D Also feel free to put on some makeup for her? Eri likes to be pretty XD
References: If applicable. Top, Headpiece, Sketch of hair and horns
RP Prompt 2: The caravan's matchmaker is a terrifying old Ursari, who will at one time or another, hold a young Ursari's life in her hands. She is usually referred to as Baba, a name that does not suit her well. Your Ursari has been called to her presence to discuss his or her options, which could be good or bad. Why were they called there? How high is your Ursari's stature, and how could this effect the match? How does your Ursari feel about this?
Prompt reply:
“Don’t. Touch.” A sharp voice froze Eri’del’s hand in mid-air and feeling the piercing glare the old Ursari was giving her, she pulled it back with a grimace, placing it over the other rested on her knee.
“Honestly.” Baba snapped at her. “Haven’t you heard that curiosity killed the Kyunru?”
The Ursari dearly wanted to answer with an insistence that she was not a Kyunru, but wisely decided to keep her mouth shut, letting her eyes roam about Baba’s home, eyes lighting up as she spotted a few new ornaments she hadn’t seen before. As Baba cleared her throat impatiently, her eyes snapped back to look at her, though somewhat reluctantly. Plastering a bright smile on her face, she decided to speak, swaying Baba’s mind away from the current topic. “So, Baba, I...”
“Dear child.” The Ursari spoke, though her tone did not carry the warmth such endearing words spoken should. “Before I give you any suggestions, do you have anyone in mind?”
Eri’del blinked in surprise. Her opinion on this? Oh dear oh dear oh dear, she hadn’t really thought about it, and though she nodded and tried to think, all that floated through her mind were notes, music notes, a melody... Nervously, she began to unwittingly hum a gentle tune, rocking herself back and forth.
Baba sighed. “I knew it.” The old Ursari shook her head exasperatedly. “Do you even put any thought into your future, child?” Her voice was sharp and cold, and Eri’del winced at the accusation.
“I...do.” She murmured, wringing her hands sheepishly, her green eyes now flickering away from the gaze she was getting. “It’s just that...I’ve been busy with writing songs that I haven’t really paid attention to anything else.”
“Except interesting trinkets.” Eri flinched yet again.
It was true, really. After she had found a master to take her in, she had been kept horribly busy. Raina was a very demanding master, and although Eri was grateful for that, there were times she did wish she could be given a little break. She had gotten so focused with her work that Eri had almost, almost forgotten to about her meeting Baba. If not for dear mama’s reminder (Bless her!) , she would have been late, and Baba would have been furious.
But that was something Baba didn’t need to know.
“You interact with so many Aishe.” Baba said. “Do you not have an interest in any of those you know?”
“Uh...” While Eri’del did love talking, singing along and having fun with the others, she had never thought of any of the males in that way. No, they were just friends, acquaintances. Her mind had never wandered anywhere else. Strangely enough, considering that many she knew were boytoys...
Or maybe the fact they were so was why she was set on looking upon them as only friends.
“Such an indecisive one.” The elderly Ursari huffed and Eri’s eyes trailed down to the floor in embarrassment. Hmm...what a lovely carpet; the details were finely stitched and her feet rubbed against it gently, delighting at the silky feel...
“Maybe.” Baba mused, and Eri snapped back into her senses, pulling her eyes away from the carpet and back to Baba, her feet still stroking the carpet absentmindedly. “Yes...I think it would do well for you to marry into the Thetana family. What with your weaving skills...They could help to store the song tapestries you create. Unless, you have any opposing views?”
“The Thetana?” Eri’del repeated, fiddling with the bells on her skirt. They tinkled faintly and she immediately stopped. It wouldn’t do to make Baba more annoyed than she already had.
Think about it, she told herself. All those books, all those things to learn! Some of the Aishe might find it boring, but in her view, crafting songs required not only creativity but knowledge about different aspects of life, history, culture... Eri’del was lost in her thoughts, a dreamy smile playing on her face. And her tapestries could be saved for future generations, the songs passed down!
“I take that as a yes.” Baba declared. “It would do well for you to settle down with someone serious...yes, to get your head out of the clouds. I’ll arrange the rest. You may go now.” She dismissed the Aishe with a wave of the hand.
Eri’del stood up and bowed to Baba, murmuring her thanks. The notion had pleased her greatly, and frankly, she didn’t mind who Baba might have chosen, as long as he was a nice person. She gave the old Ursari a backwards glance and a cheery wave, before skipping out into the sunshine, humming yet another tune.
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Posted: Thu Nov 06, 2008 11:53 pm
Name: Belarus
Family: Aishe
Gender: Male
Stage: Journeyman.
Seller of: “The one man show”. Belarus was trained to be an actor, specializing in a unique type of theatrical show. Through the use of a particular interesting mask, Belarus is able to change the appearance of the mask to suit the character that he needs to portray. Man, woman, animal, he is able to manipulate the originally plain surface of the mask which so well hides his face, to act out an entire play on his own. Sometimes with an extra trick of hand or with a little help, he can even change his outfit to match that of the character or create the illusion that there is more than one actor on stage.
Eyes: It is almost impossible to get Belarus to take off his mask, however, if you are someone whom is privileged enough to catch a glimpse of him, you will see a rather blank pair of pale peachy eyes.
Horns: Elongated, black, like that of a water buffalo. They curl ever so slightly at the ends and are lined with small notches.
Hairstyle: A deep cream, almost buttery yellow. In the front, his hair is kept short, but is exceedingly long in the back. With the need to look androgynous and play the role of either a man or women, he must quickly be able to pull a ribbon, or flick his hair back as to make the appearance of going rapidly from a male to female hairstyle or vice versa.
Personality: When he is in his element, onstage at his best Belarus is expressive, loud, flashy, exuberant, and playful. Even off the stage he exudes constant drama, laughing one minute, driven to tears the next. This Usari is an individual whom thrives through his own emotions and the emotions of others…that is as long as he is wearing his mask. Onstage, off stage, Belarus is known to wear the one entirely special object that makes him who he is, his mask. For you see, Belarus has been doing his work so long, that he has almost forgotten how to act without the mask. At best when the strings of the decoration are removed from his face, he is apathetic, uncaring and cold. He can not laugh, he can not cry, he simply will nod his head and mumble a word or two, if only to be polite. In essence, Belarus would rather be anybody in the world but himself and with the right tool at his disposal; he chooses to do just that.
Position/Expression: While the position is debatable, I imagine him to be standing, one hand placed carefully over his face, perhaps pulling the mask down, if only so you can get just a peek at his eyes.
Outfit: I am open to anything for an outfit, if anything it should be something flashy as he is a performing Aishe and needs something that will make others ‘Ooo’ and ‘Ahh’, brighter colors instead of dark ones.
Items?: His performing mask, but other than that, nothing comes to mind.
Etc: None
References: Sorry, there was no time to make some.Quote: The caravan's matchmaker is a terrifying old Ursari, who will at one time or another, hold a young Ursari's life in her hands. She is usually referred to as Baba, a name that does not suit her well. Your Ursari has been called to her presence to discuss his or her options, which could be good or bad. Why were they called there? How high is your Ursari's stature, and how could this effect the match? How does your Ursari feel about this?
“My son, surely you must know why I have called you hear today,” Baba called, slipping from her plush seat to extended an aged hand in welcome to Belarus. Her tone had been warm, but even without his knowledge that this Usari was a woman kind to none, Belarus could always spot a fake, an actor could always tell his kind.
“Hello Baba,” the white of his mask wavered for a minute, suddenly flashed with the face of something grinning impishly evil, a smile almost as venoms as hers had been to him. He smiled, raised a hand, waved it with a bit of a flourish and gave a bow as she came his way. All none to pleased he noted that she could not see his face. He moved swiftly her way, rather than waiting for her to come to him. “I must say, I had a feeling as to why I was here, though surely being so wise, you must know that I am not happy to have entered your domain.” He gave a taunting laugh and flashed a few colors of blue and unhappy images, settling on a face whose frowning lips curved down pas the chin. “I have never seen so many disappointed faces walk out one door, as I have seen yours.” Of course at his comments, Baba turned her own face into a frown, but Belarus never able to stay with one emotion for long, picked up into a bit of a laugh. “That’s not to say I haven’t seen smiling faces either—“
“Take it off,” his words we’re cut short, by an even shorter sentence. “Take it off my son, and let me see you’re real face. You’ve been at this game too long, how old are you now? And still alone? Perhaps I’ve ignored you too long…” she mumbled to herself, trailing back to the various odds and ends at the large table. “A journeyman and still there is no match for you, and what do you think of that?” Her old gray eye turned on him, casting a malicious glare his way, as if he had somehow been avoiding her and this moment. Then again, it couldn’t possibly be his fault, these things came when the time was right and Belarus had no intention of moving time any faster than it wanted to go.
In fact, he wished he could stop it. Silence, he had no answer to her question, spoken or implied by her physical gestures. Like the room Belarus had gone quiet, frozen in moment, his face as blank as freshly fallen snow. He had no laughter, no words to mock her back with, “And what would you have me say Baba?” His fingers, scraping against the lakor of the object hiding his face, clawed and climbed their way up, his hand shaking and twisting as if it was in terrible pain. And behind that hollow object, as it was pulled from his head, was a face so blank, so dead, that it even made the old Baba wonder if he had ever smiled at all.
“Belarus, my son, why do you look so despaired?” the old Usari asked, as she raised a hand beckoning the journeyman towards her, to sit at her side. “I am worried for you my child. Never have I seen an Usari take such disinterest in their future as I have seen with you. Do you not care where you are going?” She looked to his face, but found nothing.
“I do.”
She grimaced disapprovingly at his response, more annoyed at herself than at his reply. To be two people in one, his reality the one she saw before her and his fiction, the man he presented himself as on stage. He seemed more comfortable playing someone else than himself, but it was only him, whom she could match, not the wooden object he held so tightly in his hand. “Who will you be matched with?” She smiled a bit, trailing her fingers through his hair at the dilemma which perplexed her. How could you match someone whose real face was their mask?
“I do not know,” he replied, the pale peach of his eyes, lucidly staring at the beautiful craftsmanship of the floor. “That is your job.”
“Then you will cooperate with me, as I require?” His silent reply she could only take for as a ‘yes’. “You shall visit me this coming week, everyday, and we shall talk, face to face, until I am satisfied. You will be matched and you will kindly accept it.” She waited for an outburst, a flinch of some kind, but there was none…only the soft shift of his footsteps as he stood and left for the door. Slipping his mask back on before he stepped across the threshold.
“Baba…” he turned his head back her way, a discernable look across his no longer apathetic face.
“Yes,” the old Usari replied, wicked smile of her own.
“You are, the cruelest kind of mistress.”
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Posted: Thu Nov 06, 2008 11:57 pm
Anyone know how much longer we have?
*just finished art reference and is working on the prompt*
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Posted: Thu Nov 06, 2008 11:59 pm
Name: Roz Family: Ba’al Gender: Female Stage: Apprentice Seller of: Double Cross: A pun on her dual blade fighting style and also a description on the art she excels at. One of the most underhanded types of mercenaries, Roz isn't ashamed to kill for a living if it gives her the sheer pleasure she feels when using her dual blades. Eyes: Crimson, though only her right eye is visible; her left eye is always covered with a black eye patch, covering some of the scar on her face; she almost always leers at others Horns: Relatively short but pointy black horns with ridges (like that of a ram) that curve slightly towards the back of her head and then point forward (like an s shape) Hairstyle: Short messily cut purple hair that spreads out from her head in a spike-like fashion with longer bangs that outline her face, and two long strands wrapped in bandage; the ends of her hair would be like the one in Soi Fong’s reference image only the rings would be replaced by small, sharp sword-like ornaments Personality: Raz doesn’t really care about everyone else’s concerns, as long as she gets to fight. She loves fighting and will gladly try and pick a fight with anyone dumb enough to fall for her insults. She tries her best to act nonchalant and roll things off her shoulder with her cold attitude. However, her attitude doesn’t exactly attract people to her more than it pushes everyone away. She’s often ridiculed for her smaller horns as well as having only one eye; what good is the loss of an eye for a fighter? Presently master-less, she needs someone to help her train as well as mold her personality in order to blossom into an extraordinary mercenary. Position/Expression: Wielding her dual blades, of course! Give ‘er a look of disgust as while we’re at it. Outfit: Taking a knightly approach to her talent, Roz’s outfit is complete with a gauntlet on her left hand, a half breastplate with one spaulder(that‘s the shoulder portion), one tasset on her left hip, and a pair of greaves to protect her shins. All of her armor is silver with thin black decorations lining each piece. She keeps a pair of black sheathes attached to the matching leather black belt she wears in an X-like pattern (the sheathes, not the belt) so as to make easy access for her swords. Her belt also holds up the tattered red banner sprawling halfway down her right hip. Beneath allll this she wears a simple black bodysuit; the arms at 3/4ths length and the legs at knee length. Items?: One scimitar as well as a falchion and their respective sheathes, numerous pieces of armor, belt, and sash-like skirt thing Etc: Tail: White tailed deer tail (same color as her hair with white fringe) Skin: Medium tan References: [Made a quick headshot]Hair: [Mainly the short side-sweeping hair/short tufts in the back]
[Longer strands in the front that cover over some of her eyes as well as lay before her ears]
[Like Soi Fong’s hair only with longer uneven bangs]Eyepatch: [Fanart of a similar character of mine]Outfit: [Similar to this (Done by LizzyMoo for me)]
[Just the tasset, please (the hip protector triangle thingy)]
[Breastplate similar to this but of the metallic genre minus the leaf designs]
[Similar Gauntlet]
[Similar Greaves]Tail: [Two deer!]Swords: [Scimitar]
[Falchion]Quote: Your Ursari has not been able to find a master and cannot be considered an adult until she or he does. There are two main types of Masters, Tutors who focus on one apprentice only and Teachers, who focus on a large group of children. With everything in the Ursari world, there are many tiers within Masters, depending on their skill. Why hasn't your Ursari found a Master? How does it make them feel? What do they do to get one? The golden sun was beginning to set, down behind the mountains that sheltered the ursari caravan. The orbs faint glow reflected in Roz’s crimson eye, giving it a slight orange hue. She had always taken the time to admire the wondrous view, in awe as she saw the caravan slowly brighten with the light of each lantern to signal nighttime. The change in lighting was subtle but once the sun had disappeared, the caravan carried a new type of life. The group she called her own was always lit up at night, but tonight was a special night. Roz slowed her breathing as she lifted her swords, their thick figures being lit from behind from the light in the distance. This is my night…I have to find one. Placing her trusty swords back in their sheathes strapped to her belt, she quickly made her decent from the forested hill and allowed her heavy armor help her plummet faster, her hooves doing their best to keep up with the quick pace. As soon as she entered the small town-like structure her ears picked up on the heralding trumpet soundings not too far off into the center of the convoy. The festival was beginning! Her cloven feet dashed along the large beaten dirt trail, heading towards the commotion. When she arrived she was not surprised to see the large crowd of other ursari, old and young, huddled around in a circle and starring in awe at the sight before them. A large group of Ba’al warriors had just returned from the battlegrounds of other worlds, fashioned with scars and mainly sacks of precious materials in turn for their fighting. Roz couldn’t help but stare in amazement as she watched them perform some of their fighting tricks. Though some of her view was restricted due to the large Pitivo in front of her, scoffing and mocking the brave fighters. It got Roz’s blood boiling, that is, before she heard the clanging of metal and the bashing of wood. Of course!Brashly, she squeezed between the burly males and darted out towards the excitement: her brothers and sisters were all partaking in the second part of the festival; they were sparring with one another. A sudden sparkle gleamed in the window to her soul, her short tail beginning to wiggle slightly; this is what she had been trainer for in the hills each day after tutoring let out! She eagerly brandished her swords and charged into the scene, the feeling of the eyes watching her from all around dissipating. Roz tried her best to step into the ongoing ‘battles’ but every time she had tried to, the others quickly darted away, avoiding confrontation with her. Why…Why was it always like this for her? Her young mind didn’t want to comprehend the fact that she wasn’t really like them. Well sure, she belonged to their family, she was considered their sister. But they all had someone who looked after them, cared for them, nurtured them; they each had their parents and their parents had them. They each had two eyes…lovely horns…beautiful tails.. No. She quickly shook her head, I‘m just like everyone else… Roz realized that she had been standing still, befuddled as she watched the other to-be apprentices fight for a master. She could feel the thousand eyes burning into her skin. She had to keep fighting, how else would she get one of the journeymen to take her under her wing? Lunging forward, aiming for the fray of young ursari she--BUM BUM BUMMM~! She stopped mid-step. Her heart sank. The second part of the festival was over; she knew she had failed to impress anyone within a one hundred mile radius. She watched, her body empty, as the others gathered around the journeymen, flocking close in hopes that they would be picked for their fabulous displays of combat. One by one, they all started to relocate themselves alongside older and wiser Ba’al fighters. Roz hung her head as she shied back towards whence she came. Squishing herself through the crowd of happy and excited parents, she found a small secluded area away from all the clatter and clamor the festival brought. All her hopes, they were shattered in mere minutes. Maybe..If I had gotten into town earlier I would have- Suddenly her hairs stood on end. Roz turned ‘round to face the presence she felt behind her, holding back the tears that almost fell. ”Who‘s there?” She called out towards the shadows, not being able to spot who or what was there. ”…Do you want to learn the secret art of assasination?” The voice was faint as it seemed to travel to Roz’s ears as if carried by the slight breeze in the air. ”Who are you?” She called out once more, becoming more and more unnerved as she stood, weapons at the ready. The voice chuckled lowly as it spoke once more in its genderless tone. ”I saw you at the festival. Such potential in one so…strange.”The purple-haired female kept silent knowing the voice would not answer any of her questions, only tell what it wished. -THUD- A large brown sack was suddenly heaved before her, a small cloud of dust rising from the sudden action. ”I will be leaving for another world in an hour. Bring my sack to the outskirts of camp and we shall be on our way.”She tried her best to utter a reply, but her throat produced no sound as the presence had disappeared into the night air. After a few moments her eye darted towards the sack as she picked it up in haste, following the trail of her now master.
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Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2008 12:22 am
UrsariName: Daevan Family: Ba’al Gender: Male Stage: Journeyman Seller of: Painless Death. Daevan specialises in true mercy killings. Feeling squeamish about killing your brother's heirs so you can inherit all the wealth? Hire Daevan to assassinate them in a manner guaranteed that they will feel no pain or suffering. He has various methods: he knows where pressure points and nerve bundles are, to either strike directly or avoid them; he has his own concoctions of poisons to add to his blades that can kill instantly, or have the victim slip into a coma and die peacefully in their sleep; and of course there's the favourite 'blades so sharp and fast that they behead you before you've seen him move' trick for the battlefield. Daevan is always working on perfecting his current techniques and gaining new ones. Some say there might be a touch of magic helping him in his endeavor, but the less said about magic to Daevan the better... Eyes: Wine red Horns: Moose antlers. I like the idea of a warrior / Ba’al having giant, oversized horns, as well as the fact that male mooses (meese?) charge each other and lock antlers as a way of fighting. I think it really suits a Ba’al, with their rowdy ways and fighting spirit. In colour, I’d like the antlers tinged red and sort of veined -- see reference image. Hairstyle: Copper in colour, including a touch of green in there as though his hair is really made of copper and part of it has rusted -- see reference images for copper that has partly rusted. (The green can be dyed, I just like the effect, the complimentary colours, and the idea of “metal” hair.) His hair falls to mid-back and is straight and fine. Skin: Light caramel. Around each wrist he has a tattoo of a double-ouroboros - snakes eating each others' tails. They are looped back and forth in a kind of celtic knot pattern around the wrist, with both snake heads/tails on the upper side of each wrist. -- See reference image. Personality: When meeting Daevan, most people come away thinking he is incredibly mean or cruel. He was born with a face and expression that can’t help but look angry and dangerous. Add onto that his warrior’s build and huge antlers, and you might begin to understand why Daevan is such a taciturn person. Speaking has been known to only make it worse, so outside of the Ba’al camp, Daevan is rather subdued for a member of the rowdiest of the Families. Inside the Ba'al camp, away from the eyes of other Families, he feels more comfortable. He’s the type to freeze up if unsure of himself, and present a silent, intimidating front instead. It doesn’t help that he was born to the Veduni, but showed no magical talents, eventually resulting in a marriage to the Ba’al. Daevan is especially quiet and wary around his former Family. He can also be … slightly dense. He’s no Thetana, that’s for sure (who is, apart from the Thetana themselves), but subtlety is well and truly lost on Daevan. Perhaps this is because he has such little time or interest for non-mercenary subjects (apart from the wild Ba’al celebrations), but mostly because he’s simply not that bright. He’s therefore not one to strike up random conversation or exchange idle pleasantries. Flirting goes well and truly over his head. There’s a rumour going around the Ba’al section of the camp that he has no interest in sex – an idea that makes his current lovers howl in amusement. Daevan just won’t get it unless he is propositioned flat out, otherwise you can expect responses along the lines of, “Do you have something in your eye? ... You keep sighing heavily – are you having trouble breathing? You should really see a healer before that gets any worse.” Give him a subject he knows and he’s truly in his element. He has great confidence in his swordsmanship, and also in his unique profession. The fact that people are usually more interested in hiring someone to kill their enemies slowly and painfully doesn’t faze him. What he does takes skill and one day people will surely recognise this! Perhaps he’s a little optimistic… but at least he can feel good about what he’s doing. Just a little bit of a softie on the inside, Daevan doesn’t show this to many – just his lovers and closest siblings (all Ba’al). After all, his skill was first recognised when he was the one to put sick animals out of their misery because he didn’t want them to suffer. But that’s hardly common knowledge – the few Veduni that know aren’t about to tell anyone about their mundane, sissy throwback. Position/Expression: He always looks a lot meaner than he feels. Other than that, artist’s choice. Outfit: Black, baggy Arabian-style pants, with a few looped rows of gold trim up around his hips and thighs. A thick belt goes over the pants, with trailing ends down to the bottom of the pants - it is the same dark off-red of his horns, edged in gold. (Feel free to add or remove detail on belt.) A short-sleeved black jacket, cut short/high around his ribcage so that it doesn’t cover the Talwar at the back of his waist. Jacket is open at the front, no shirt on underneath. Items?: His weapons of choice are two Talwar sabres, which he wears sheathed at his back horizontally, crossing over slightly. Etc: His tail is the same colour as his hair, and is similar to a horses in that it’s just more hair, no bones or flesh down the middle of it. It is very long – it would drape on the ground if he let it. Instead, it is braided and looped around his waist like a belt, with the end dropping down just a little way. When asked why he braids his tail but not his hair, Daevan replied, “So far I haven’t been in any danger of tripping over my hair in battle.” He appears early to mid twenties. He is tall and fairly buffed - not a bodybuilder, but he does spend almost every day training and wielding swords out in the desert. He's very well muscled. Think slightly intimidating, mostly mmmm yum. References:Daevan sketch reference - feel free to add artistic license / interpretation Weapons: Talwar sabreMoose antlers: colour + semi-veined effect and how they sit on the headHair colour: Copper, including green rustTattoos: Double Ouroboros - this is a flat image, the tattoos would go around the wrist with both snake heads/tails still on the upper side of the wrist. Belt: on the leftThe caravan's matchmaker is a terrifying old Ursari, who will at one time or another, hold a young Ursari's life in her hands. She is usually referred to as Baba, a name that does not suit her well. Your Ursari has been called to her presence to discuss his or her options, which could be good or bad. Why were they called there? How high is your Ursari's stature, and how could this effect the match? How does your Ursari feel about this?The young boy fought not to squirm under the weight of Baba's beady-eyed glare. He'd been sitting in the small 'public area' of the dimly lit caravan with the matchmaker for what felt like hours, and as of yet, the fearsome old crone had yet to say anything. He'd thought nothing could be scarier than the Veduni elders, but this woman, by doing nothing but stare and let him sweat, was outdoing anything his Family had ever done. She hadn't even provided a cushion, he thought, shifting on the hard wood. He didn't know why he was here. This was a matchmaker, and thirteen year old Daevan had no talent, no ambition, no prospects and - worst of all - no magic. He was the last person any Veduni would want paired with their child. Unless... she was going to tell him that he would never marry? Raspy breathing filled the warm air - and it wasn't coming from the old crone. Daevan knew he was the worst Veduni ever. He was certainly told often enough, by his Mother, his teachers, even the other children his age. Marriage was really his only choice for improving his lot. Or for finding some kind of companion, since such a useless Veduni would never find a lover. "Do you know why you are here?" Daevan jumped, a small squeal escaping. There was strength behind that voice, like the crack of a whip across his face. Immediately he shook his head. Baba didn't look impressed. "You had a visit from one of the Ba'al recently, or did you forget?" Pale beneath his tan, Daevan forgot to breathe. Of course he remembered. His family had not allowed him to forget. After all, it wasn't every day that a child cut a visiting member of another Family, especially with their own weapon. One he should not have been touching, both from respect for their guest and the lack of interest a Veduni was meant to have in mundane, physical weapons. Did this mean Baba was in charge of punishments, too, not just marriages? "You... are interesting," continued Baba, ignoring Daevan's plight. There was no way she could have missed it, so disdain it was. "I had to look very carefully for you. And what I have seen..." She paused dramatically, before leaning forward. Her eyes glinted in the dim lamplight. "Death follows you." A quick, fearful glance over his shoulder proved that Death hadn't shown his face just yet. Baba's face fell as he took her literally. "Oh dear. One of those types," she grumbled. "That might cause problems." Daevan waited. Speaking at home only made things worse for him. "Kyunru got your tongue?" snapped Baba. "I've never had such a quiet interview, except from some Thetana, buried in their books..." Daevan stared, and dared to breathe again. "Interview?" "For your marriage. Gods save me from the dim ones," the woman muttered under her breath. Straightening herself, she continued. "The Ba'al are interested in you, after your little stunt with that painless cutting. And the gods know your Family isn't objecting. So, unless you have any objections of your own?" A pause, and Daevan realised he was expected to answer somehow. Another frantic shaking of his head earned a snort from Baba. "You're free to go, then," she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Just remember, she's worth far more than a scaredy-kyunru like yourself." Nodding to himself, Daevan fled the caravan. He didn't doubt Baba's last words. In fact, he would never forget them. 586 word prompt, because someone just PMed that it was closed/closing.
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Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2008 12:23 am
@Kali: MOOT.
Ill accept it as i haven't even started judging yet. I was just copy pasting.
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Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2008 12:26 am
And Part one is now finished!
I will be posting finalists tonight! ITS LIKE SURVIVOR, YOU DONT KNOW HOW THE GAME WILL CHANGE. AHAHAHAHAHAHHA.
( ihavent judged yet, but tonight they will be announced, im fast and thorough)
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Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2008 12:36 am
Thank you, Natsu heart
And thank you so much, Devious Kitsune for the PM telling me, otherwise I wouldn't have hurried and posted so soon!
*collapses from relief*
Good luck to everyone! I have had so much fun reading profiles and giving crit to those I could <3
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Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2008 12:53 am
sweatdrop Aww, shucks. Don't mention it, Kali.
Good luck to all~!
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Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2008 2:52 am
Sketch reference pic is actually HERE. It seems I doubled up on the belt reference image in my rush sweatdrop
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Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2008 3:21 am
So, Rosemilk (impartial judge friend that owns Alix, the cutie thetana WIP) and I have spent about 2 hours judging and we have come up with a list of finalists.
Finalists are as follows:
Ber'iah (Lady Mist)
Dar'ian (Lanthiriel)
Una (Dark Fire Angel)
Tahiri (Shikamaru Silyvant)
Eri'del (melodymh4)
Belarus (Gabriela Juliana)
Roz (Devious_Kitsune)
Daevan (Kalindara)
NOW THE TWIST
For part two of the RP contest, we have matched Ursari together to be soulmated. These were matched based on LOLness, and not on writing quality, etc.
Your task is to create an RP in the metaplot guild, and RP till the cows come home. You have until November 14, 12:01 am to write your RPs.
Some things to discuss in the RPs:
*Who your Ursari is
*How they met their soul mate
*what did people say about them?
*Soul mating doesn't mean instant, perfect love. Sometimes, people soul mate and HATE each other. But they are tied together for better or worse. They always learn to love one another. They are aware of a bond so its not just HATE HATE HATE. Its more like... Buffy and spike. I HATE YOU. SMOOCH. GOD I HATE YOU.
Anything else is just peachy. Don't worry about the setting, you're in the caravan, there is no festival so its just the ursari, and they are on grass in a normalish looking field.
COUPLESSSSSS
Una x Daevan
Be'riah x Roz
Dar'ian x Belarus
Tahiri x Eri'del
HAVE AT IT MY LOVES.
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Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2008 3:25 am
Eeeeee *w* *is happy!*
Yay! biggrin *goes to read up on Tahiri* >o> And shika, you can IM me to discuss stuff? my AIM is my gaian username XD
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