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 Posted: Wed Jul 08, 2009 9:44 pm
Male's name: Megedagik (formerly Little Brother, Ghost)
Male's personality and/or brief bio: Fierce
Female's name: Yiska (formerly Sekhmet)
Female's personality and/or brief bio: Courageous
Your tale:
“Strangers stalk our lands.”
“Ghosts,” the elder said over the hushed crackle of the fires. “I have heard of these beings you speak of, Ituha. Death has drained the colour out of their skins and their eyes are like dead fish eyes. When they came to Kawani lands many years ago on their sailing forests, we drove them back. It was a hard victory for us all. Your own father died fighting them.”
“No, Elder,” Ituha said bowing his head with respect, “these are different strangers. They do not come from the sea. These come from the desert. Their skins are as black as ash and they have terrifying monsters with them.”
“Describe these monsters to me,” the elder urged as the people around the fires drew closer to listen.
“They are enormous,” Ituha said, lifting his strong, supple hands to the skies. “Bigger than a soquili. Bigger than many soquili. They have a long nose, and they have-“ Here, he struggled to describe them, “Long, curving-“ His hands made a shape in the air. “Long, curving…”
One of the other warriors laughed. “Don’t let your mother catch you making that gesture, Ituha.”
The young warrior flushed crimson as the older warriors strode over. “Horns,” he finished lamely. “They have… horns, but they aren’t at the top of their heads, they are coming from their mouths, and they have long noses like a snake, and…”
But his descriptions had not served to inspire the gut-wrenching fear he had experienced on seeing the monsters for the first time. Ituha wished, not for the first time, that he had a better way with words. So he stood there amidst the laughing circles of warriors, all the tension brought by his earlier words dispelled by this grand jest.
“Horns coming from their mouths. Long snake noses. Sounds very terrifying,” Ituha’s older brother grinned. “Don’t worry, Ituha. We’ll take care of them. They are no match for our fighting skills. Did you hear the Elder? We fought of the Ghost Men. We will fight off these strangers!”
Ituha sat miserably in the glade some distance away from the cheerful fires of the tribe. He sat with his back to an ancient willow tree, his head propped up in his hands. Beside him grazed the fine young stallion he had grown up with: a gift from his father before he had died, and Ituha’s first and only soquili whom he had raised from a foal.
“You believe me, Little Brother, don’t you?” Ituha said. “The strangers are a threat, and there are so many of them.”
Now that he thought about it, he wished he had remembered to tell the elder just how many of the strangers he had seen, but his mind had been blank with humiliation when the older warriors had laughed, and he hadn’t had any words left to say. And it was too late to go back and tell them now, because they would only laugh again, and think he was embellishing his story to impress them.
“I can’t help being the youngest untried warrior in the tribe,” Ituha said. “I haven’t even worn warpaint before.”
Little Brother lifted his head and stared at him as though he understood what Ituha was saying and agreed with him.
“I’m going to practise my fighting now. Promise you won’t laugh?” Ituha asked, and he scrambled to his feet with his tomahawk in hand.
Little Brother and Ituha rode to war that same Summer. When the strangers attacked, the Kawani were caught by surprise, and many brave warriors fell to their spears. The invaders were every bit as terrifying as Ituha had tried to describe, with their throwing spears and their gold cages on wheels, and their enormous monsters. They had with them soquili too, and these they whipped mercilessly to force them to pull their gold cages. No one had a name for these invaders, but to Little Brother, they were the “Slavers,” for the way they treated their soquili.
He hated them for that, but he hated them even more for what they did later, because at the last, it was one of the tusked monsters that Ituha had been mocked for that killed him.
Little Brother loved Ituha, even though he could never say it in the Kawani boy’s tongue. Yet he showed it in the way he fought as hard as Ituha did against their foes. To Little Brother, Ituha was not an awkward, adolescent Kawani boy who stuttered when he was nervous, and to be mocked for his inexperience. Ituha was herd.
And then one terrible day, when one of the Slavers’ spears grazed against Little Brother’s side, shocking him momentarily, he fought back –
And Ituha fell.
Little Brother had not realised Ituha’s balance had been so precariously, and even as he turned towards him, the tide of battle swept him away. Little Brother screamed. He fought with tooth and hoof to return to Ituha’s side, but the waves of war kept beating him back. Warriors were running, soquili were running, all of them were running away from Ituha’s monster. It reared up against the sky, trumpeting a war bellow as its curving tusks and long nose rose like a standard.
And as it stampeded through the ranks of desperately fighting Kawani warriors, it was Ituha who lay in its path.
Little Brother would let no man or woman ride him after that. He fought alone, always alone, seeking his revenge upon the invaders. He wore the same paint he had worn into battle on the day Ituha had died, never allowing it to wash away, and soon they were joined by wounds and old battle scars, and his only concession to allowing another to touch him, was to let Ituha’s older brother bind the wounds with strips of cloth.
As the bright gold of Summer faded into darker reds and browns, still the invaders pushed deeper and deeper into Kawani lands. There was no stopping them. The tide was relentless, neverending. Kawani fell. Soquili fell. And the invaders brought captured Soquili of their own to fight for them, and there was one in particular who filled his thoughts. A pale mare, the colour of the inside of a pearly shell, but though her colouring was delicate, she wore the battle armour of their foes. And she was ridden by a man with a single black braid falling over one shoulder. A fierce man, who killed many Kawani and Soquili alike.
**
Sekhmet did not remember where she had come from. Her earliest memories were of hot, lazy days sprawled beneath the shade of palm trees, and gambolling at the edges of a cool spring of water. Then there had been the man who had fed her, who had trained her, who now rode her, but who never once spoke to her, which Sekhmet accepted as the way of things. After all, her purpose was to bear a rider into battle. That much she understood, and she fought as fiercely as the one after whom she had been named.
Countless had fallen beneath her master’s sword and spear, not a few of them hastened to their deaths by her own hooves. She was her master’s pride and joy, his sparkling jewel in the desert.
This was a time like all the others, and yet something, also, was different. It was the stallion who fought amongst the people her master sought to conquer. He was the colour of ash and ochre, painted with the colours of earth and fire, and his body was covered with battle-scars. He fought like a demon, and he fought alone.
Sekhmet’s master and many like him sought to capture him, but he was as elusive as a sand-spirit. He always slipped away, and always, in his wake, he left scars of his own upon his enemies.
/I wonder who he is, and why he fights so hard./
Such a thought was not characteristic of the battle mare, and yet his fighting passion stirred her blood so that she fought even harder on the battlefield, just so he would notice her.
/I wonder who will defeat him, or if he will always be victorious./
It was not long before Sekhmet was filled with the desire to be that one. She took every opportunity she could to meet him in battle, and yet somehow, they never met.
Until today, until now.
A clash of steel.
A battle-cry.
Hooves striking against the soft earth, churning up mud and blood and grass.
He wore the marks of her teeth upon his shoulder, whilst her sides ached from the impact of his hooves.
/I will beat you!/
Another cry, but not her own. Her master fell, but there was no injury upon him. Instead, he clutched at his heart, and when he hit the ground, he did not move.
/No. No. No!/
The tide of battle swept her away. Sekhmet did not know, she did not care. She forgot all about the dark stallion and the battle they had been fighting. She forgot about everything, until she came to herself, and the battle had ended. She stood amongst the fallen, including her master, and realised the sun was starting to set.
Then she realised she could not remember the battle ending. She could not remember anything, save the moment when her master fell.
Miraculously, she had survived. No one had injured her during the battle even though she had been witless to defend herself, until she realised the cause. The dark stallion was standing there, watching her. Had he been the one to stop the tide of battle from harming her?
“I am sorry for your loss,” he said, then turned and started to slip away like the sand-spirit her master had called him.
“Wait! Tell me why!” Sekhmet cried.
He paused, though he did not turn. “I, too, have lost.”
He would have gone then, but Sekhmet quickly caught up with him. “Who are you?”
“I have been called Little Brother, but now I am called Ghost.”
Sekhmet lost the taste for battle without her master but she did not forget Little Brother, who now called himself Ghost. And when her master’s people eventually abandoned their pursuit of the Kawani for they had been recalled home by other matters, Sekhmet did not return with them. Home was not home without her master. She put all those hot, lazy days behind her, the smell of the warm sand, and the sky gleaming an azure blue, and went in search for Ghost.
It took her a very long time, but one day she found him.
“What are you doing?”
He stared into the waters of the lake, a figure not so awe-inspiring as he had been in battle, but almost forlorn. He still wore the war paint that was the colour of earth and fire, but the wounds were old now, the battle-scars starting to fade.
“Remembering,” he said.
“I, too, remember.” Sekhmet joined him by the water’s edge. “When you look down, do you see him?”
“Sometimes,” Ghost said.
Sekhmet stared into the cool shadowy depths. She was silent for a long time, before at last she said, “I never do.”
**
Spring came to the Kawani lands. The invaders had gone as suddenly and as mysteriously as they had come. Only Sekhmet knew the truth of why – understood the strange politics that ruled her former people. But all rejoiced that there was no more war.
Ituha’s brother walked the verdant fields with two Soquili at his side. The dark stallion painted with fresh warpaint now bore the name Megedagik, or “Kills Many”, and the pale, shell-coloured mare whose warpaint matched his, now bore the name Yiska, or “Night has Passed.” They trod carefully through the spring flowers, stopping at last at the resting place of those who had gone before.
The dark stallion and pale mare both placed offerings upon the graves, whilst Ituha’s brother set down a gleaming ivory tusk, long and curving, which glinted in the light of the rising sun.
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Posted: Thu Jul 09, 2009 8:14 am
Male's name: MATCHITEHEW: Algonquin name meaning "he has an evil heart."
Male's personality and/or brief bio: Match is a very power hungry Stallion. He always wants what he can’t have, and will do anything with in his power to get what he wants, even if he doesn’t have the ‘power’ to. The words ‘No’ and ‘Can’t’ are not in his vocabulary. Very bloodthirsty too, raised as a war horse from birth, he’d love a fight with you, and he’d know he would win hands down.
Female's name: CHOSPOSI: Hopi name meaning “bluebird eye."
Female's personality and/or brief bio: Don’t let Cho’s name fool you, she’s a snake waiting to strike. She is very venomous with her tongue, and is always up for seducing someone to get what she wants and needs, much like Match, she doesn’t like to play many games, and doesn’t like funny business. A No-nonsense-girl all the way. And is pretty stiff and straight forward to pretty much everyone.
Your tale:
(Setting basically: October 31, 1862, Congress authorized the establishment of the military Fort Sumner at Bosque Redondo, a space forty miles square. It would be the first Indian reservation west of Oklahoma Indian Territory. The plan was to turn the various Indian Nations into farmers on the Bosque Redondo with irrigation from the Pecos River. Bosque Redondo was a round grove of trees on the Pecos River at a site where the Pecos Valley spread out. Until they were rounded up and taken to the Bosque Redondo these Indian Nations hated each other and were killing and steeling from each other. One can only imagine what happened when over 9,000 Indians of different tribes were all put together in a space forty miles square. The military Fort Sumner was in operation from 1862 to 1868. In 1868 it was decided that the Bosque Redondo Indian Reservation was a dismal failure and the Indians were dispersed June 1, 1868 to other locations. The military Fort Sumner was closed in 1868.
The old Fort Sumner buildings were sold to Lucien B. Maxwell in 1870 for $5,000. Congress passed the act of disposal on February 24, 1871.
I know you said it didn't have to be detailed, but just to give you a jist of it all, and they were leaving around the time the reservation was closing, not exactly on that day.)
From the moment he saw her, he had felt an attraction. Now, here he was, facing her, trying to stare her down. His people had won this fight, and that was all. Nothing would change that. Surely the mare he looked at now knew that.
He flared his nostrils, snorting at her. He was drawn to her, and he hated her for it. She was of no use to him, and he could not gain anything from her. So why did he feel this odd way? Surely it was a joke. A trick.
Match watched her walk towards him, her ears drawn all the way back, while his were perked with studying interest. She rolled her eyes at him, when their eyes met. And continued to look him over. Boy she was a charmer, he rolled his eyes. He smirked, he could do better. But maybe he could have his fun with her. He had heard this reservation was closing. Maybe he could escape with her once this closed down. He’d use her, then leave, that was his way.
Cho was utterly disgusted with this stallion. Was he so thick headed that he thought he had truly won? She would have laughed at him, but what would that have done? Instead, she flirted, the only way she knew how to get what she wanted. Maybe she could use him.
Their battle had been cut short, yes, he had won. His people over threw her own. She had to admit that her people were in fact, less then war soldiers. Her people were tricksters sure, but they hadn’t ever fought till now.
“Seems we have a dying place at our hooves,” she said coolly, walking just enough away so she could look and face him. She motioned with her head, the area around them.
Match nodded, “Such a shame.” He scoffed, his people, though his, meant very little to him. In fact, they didn’t mean anything. He was just using them, like anything else he could, he would let off on them when his time came to flee and find another ‘poor soul’. He snickered, “So what’s a beautiful bird like yourself doing talking to me?” He raised a brow.
Cho fluttered her lashes at him, “Oh please, this is my land too. You have not won yet Talutah.” She knew that this was not his name, but the meaning, ‘Blood red’ Seemed to fit him. He seemed to like blood and pain. Cho shrugged in her head, she wondered what he was really thinking.
“Talutah?” this time he laughed, loud. “That is not my name.” very gently, he walked toward her, then turned, and headed down what he thought was his territorial line, toward the ending, where a wooden fence circled this small area. Knowing she would follow.
Cho narrowed her eyes at the leaving stallion. She followed reluctantly, stopping when both of them came to the fence. “What are you planning?” She asked out right. It didn’t bother her that he chuckled again. Did this stallion really think he was all that? Please.
Match motioned over the fence. “What do you see out there? I see my future awaiting me, this land is not for me, it cannot be what I want it to. I see great possibilities.” His eyes burned with intensity. “And you, can have a say on wether or not you’re the first to join me in my...’quest’ on achieving such land."
Cho looked out towards the plains that stretched as far as she could see. “Your quest?” She raised a brow in his direction, “Your pretty full of yourself aren’t you?” But it was just a question, nothing more. Maybe she could trick him. She rolled the idea over and over in her mind. Maybe she could leave with some power of her own if she stayed with him awhile. “You want to make this land yours?”
Match nodded, looking her in the eyes with his own. They burned with a fury that was only made from a power hungry stallion. “Won’t you join me?” He smiled, but it was deadly, and his eyes narrowed into slits. “Think of all the possibilities. Think of what you, yourself, with me, could accomplish.” He motioned back to the mud houses, “We don’t need them, we never have. They are useless and weak.” He snorted, looking back at her for a reply.
Cho, of course was thinking of possibilities. Yes she could go with him, and she may or may not get anything to gain from that. And ultimately his attitude could be his end. But on the other hand, if it wasn’t his end, he could be an asset to her. “I could come with you..” her eyes narrowed, and she sounded like she was contemplating things. “What would be in all this for me?”
“You could gain power beside me.” He lied through his teeth. He would never share anything with anyone, especially a mare.
Cho nodded, “You are a very interesting stallion.” she smiled at him, turning her charm back on. This would be a great chance for her. Besides..this male could be very easy to trick.
“So you will join me.” He nodded and smiled, a pretty genuine smile, for a guy like him. Though it still hung with something eery.
Cho didn’t nod, didn’t agree. Instead she through her head back and reared up to spin around. And broke into a run. As soon as she was a couple horse lengths away, she spun right back around to leap over the fence with swift grace.
Match stared for a minute, but she did not slow. He followed her, but his moves unlike hers, were powerful and not all to graceful. He would have her. He would have his way with her one way or another. She would not escape him now.
Cho smiled as her eyes went back to watch him speed up behind her. She whinnied and sped forward. ‘Work for it’ she said with a hiss of laughter.
Match raced after her. He would not lose.
He would make her his, and get what he wanted, then leave her.
She would get what she wanted from him, then leave him.
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Posted: Thu Jul 09, 2009 9:17 am
Male's name: Brightdusk
Male's personality and/or brief bio: Brightdusk is, above everything else, a warrior. He is a very stoic individual. He, too, places duty, honor, and responsibility before all else. Where Goldfeather is strong, Brightdusk is stronger- and harder. He doesn't speak much, which makes him all the more imposing and intimidating.
Female's name: Goldfeather
Female's personality and/or brief bio: Goldfeather is the Chieftain's daughter. His only child, she was destined to become the leader of her tribe. For years, she prepared herself for the role of Chieftain. She hardened and disciplined herself, and made sure she knew each member of the tribe by name and face. She is a strong individual, with an even stronger sense of responsibility.
Your tale: Goldfeather, being the only child of the Chieftain, was brought up to one day lead the tribe. It was expected of her to be just, kind, and fair. She was also expected to marry someone of high rank- someone her father chose. Goldfeather never had any qualms with this. She chose duty and responsibility over her own heart, without a second thought.
She mingled amongst the tribe as she grew up, getting to know its people as individuals. She became well-known, and well-liked. The transition from her father to her, as leader, would be easy. Then, Goldfeather met Brightdusk. He was the epitome of everything she strove to be. He was strong, he was fierce, and he was trusted by the warriors who served under him. It began as a friendship, nothing more. Brightdusk taught Goldfeather about being a warrior, and Goldfeather tried to impart some of her gentleness- without much success.
Over time, the friendship grew and turned into love. But, Goldfeather's father would have none of it. "A warrior? A simple warrior? No!" He said once, and only once- that was the end of it. But Goldfeather and Brightdusk's love could not be quenched with a mere handful of words from their Chieftain. Brightdusk went to Goldfeather's father, and pleaded with him- how could he prove himself?
The Chieftain gave Brightdusk three tasks. "Bring to me these three items, and you will have my daughter," the Chieftain promised. The first two tasks were fairly easy. It was the third that proved impossible. Centuries past, it was believed Gods walked the land. When they left, to do whatever it is Gods do, they left behind a relic each. All were believed lost. The Chieftain demanded one of these holy relics. with a heavy heart, Goldfeather bade Brightdusk farewell and the best of luck. The warrior traveled far and wide, and was away many months. Goldfeather hardened, vowing never again to let her emotions overwhelm her mind.
She moved on. The Chieftain was pleased to once more see his daughter in the role she was bred for- his heiress. Goldfeather was alive, but hardly happy. She thought of Brightdusk at night; night terrors tormented her sleep. Of dark places, heavy shadows, and screams she dreamt. She ached with loss. As time went on, Goldfeather had to accept the fact she would never see Brightdusk again.
But, of course, as love stories are wont to do- Brightdusk returned. After nigh a year of traveling, he returned. Around his neck was tied a bauble, a silver triangle with a blue tear-drop stone in the center. The tribe was stunned. The bauble was one of the holy relics! With the power to heal, Brightdusk presented the relic to Goldfeather, who now wears it around her neck. The Chieftain was true to his word; Goldfeather and Brightdusk were married. No one has dared to ask Brightdusk how he obtained the relic, though. That is a story for another time.
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Posted: Thu Jul 09, 2009 10:17 pm
Male's name: Otaktay (Sioux for Kills Many)
Male's personality and/or brief bio: Born of a tribe of Soquili who avoided the Kawani at all costs, they would fight any of the Soquili aligned with the Kawani if they approached. As he grew, he gained a reputation for being a fierce and strong fighter, and was given honor among his tribe. Fiercely honorable, the rest of his tale is below.
Female's name: Honovi (Strong Deer in Hopi)
Female's personality and/or brief bio: Honovi was born amongst the Kawani, and lost her father to an angry member of Otaktay's tribe when he got lost and ended up in their area. She learned to fight, determined to have revenge and protect the Kawani from these savage Soquili. Strong Willed and determined, her tale is played out below.
Your tale: "Children, gather round, and let me tell you the tale of Honovi The Bright and Otaktay the Wise.
One day, much like this, in a time when there was unrest, Honovi, a daughter of the Kawani, was patrolling the edges of the lands were it was safe for our people to go. She watched for those who ventured too far, to stop them, and for those who lived on the other side, to fight if she needed to, to protect her people. She was a clever and strong warrior, having trained for years, with the desire to revenge her slain father.
As she patrolled, she heard a cry, and she began to run. She ran hard, and well, heading for where she'd heard the cry come from. Hearing another, she sped up, and burst through the trees to find a young stallion and his marefriend being attacked by a tall, strong stallion of the Others. Honovi screamed a challenge, rearing up and kicking.
Otaktay, the stallion who was attacking the pair, turned from them. He reared as well, then charged towards Honovi. He was sure the pair could not leave, for he'd broken the other stallion's leg. It would take great aid to heal him, and the mare clearly did not wish to leave him. Otaktay's teeth were bared, and he was snorting. Yet at the same time, he was pleased that he had a real challenge at last. He had hated fighting such as this pair, untrained, unskilled. It had felt a waste of his talent and, though he had never told the others, dishonorable, wrong, for him to attack those weaker then he.
Honovi attempted to dodge, and Otaktay's charge hit her back shoulder, causing her to stumble. She whinnied and lunged, trying bite Otaktay, who managed to dodge so that all she got was hair from his tail. He kicked out, almost getting her, when another stallion charged out. "Otaktay, good! We can take out these three, all at once!" He was clearly another from Otaktay's tribe, and Honovi jumped back, imposing herself between the pair she'd wanted to rescue, and the two stallions she faced.
"So. You are so honorable, then, 'Otaktay', that you would attack two mares and an injured stallion? 2 warriors against 1, a frightened youngling, and one who can't fight. Such 'strength' your tribe holds!"
Otaktay, who had been looking displeased at the presence of the other, looked at her, stunned by her words. However, the other snarled in rage and charged her, his teeth bared.
She fought, hard, with the other, the sun shining down on her, making her almost appear to glow. However, the other stallion was clearly fresh, where she'd been patrolling all day. He also was obviously experienced, to a great degree, and she'd only fought a few battles. He began to win, and Honovi was close to failing. She expected Otaktay to charge her and finish her at any moment.
Just as the other stallion managed to land a bite on her flank that caused her to stumble, she saw Otaktay lunge at them both. He had the angle to kill her and she braced herself, expecting to die any moment. She was, therefore, utterly startled when Otaktay's large form slammed into the other stallion, who screamed in shock, and rage. "BETRAYER! How dare you! You saved one of the Kawani, the sheep for slaughter! How dare you!"
Otaktay stood between Honovi and the other stallion, and cried out "She was right! There was no honor, you and I versus her! Were is the honor in what we do? We hunt out innocents, the weak, the lost, the easy to defeat, and take them down. I will have no part in it, no more! Our people are wrong to fight so." He reared and kicked at the stallion, crowhopping forwards in a move that few fighters could manage, for it took precision, balance, and incredible strength. The other snarled... and ran off, obviously not prepared to fight Otaktay.
Honovi stared in astonishment, and finally said "What will you do know, Otaktay who saved me?"
Otaktay did not look at her. "Wander the wilds between your lands and theirs, for I am not one of them, any more, and I am no fool, your people will not welcome me for what I was. I will defend your people from my one time tribe, and hope that they will come to see that we are fools for this."
Honovi was silent a long moment, then she said "Otaktay. Come with us. I will speak for you, and if you should be denied the right to live with the Kawani... I will wander the wilds with you, until peace is achieved. You saved me this day. I will not let you wander the world alone."
Otaktay turned, and stared, astonished. Another ray of sun hit her, and she seemed to glow brighter then ever.
And so they came to us, and though he was treated with suspicion at first, over time, Otaktay's wisdom, and willingness to save the innocent from his kin, showed to all what he was.
And so Otaktay the Wise and Honovi the Bright came together as partners. Who can say if they will be perfect friends for ever, or come to be more? Not I, I am just a teller of tales, and that tale is yet created."
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Posted: Fri Jul 10, 2009 3:56 pm
Male's name: Wildheart
Male's personality and/or brief bio: -Personality & explanation of war paint in story-
Female's name: Featherwind
Female's personality and/or brief bio: -Same as above-
Your tale:
War cries filled the sky, as arrows flew from their bows. Everything was a blur of movement and war paint. Human bodies jumped, swerved, and contorted, weaving in and out of the dance of combat. This was another human war, one between two Indian tribes. Most of the horses involved took part out of loyalty to their owners. They would obligingly weave through the battle, picking up a rider every once in a while, or carrying the wounded back to safe grounds. Wildheart was involved in this war to return a favour to the man that had nursed him back to health after a near-death encounter with a pack of wolves. He had been a nomadic creature his entire life. Always searching. Searching for the remnants of his family.
A family of three was taking its routine walk through the forest, leisurely making its way towards the stream, as they did every day. A smile crawled across the mare's features as her fraternal twin foals nudged and shouldered each other up ahead. Their father had long since disappeared, but they got along without too many problems. What they did not notice during their nature walk this day, were the hungry eyes that watched them. These eyes followed the tasty morsels until they reached the stream, and only then did the cat pounce.
The cougar leapt out of the undergrowth and landed upon the mare's back, teeth wrapped around her neck, instantly felling her. Another set of eyes followed the first, but smaller this time. The cougar's cub crept out of cover, low to the ground, eyes set on the twins. Brother and sister whipped into a crazed panic at the sight of their mother's almost instant death and the now prowling cub creeping closer. They tore into the trees, eyes wild with fear. Anything to get away from that.
They ran blindly for what seemed like hours but were in fact mere minutes. Eventually the cub corralled the twins to a fork in the path, splitting them up. This was the last that Wildheart and Featherwind saw each other. But ever since, they searched for each other, never staying too long in one place, always moving, always searching.
Now WIldhear was valiantly shouldering his way through the masses of fighting men with a wounded soldier on his back. He was efficient at this, as he was a big boy, one with determination and purpose. Right now, his goal was to return as many of the wounded as he could, and get out of it alive. He fought this battle in memory of his lost familiar; the one his war paint was styled after. Wildheart had lost his faithful bird, Bloodclaw, to the wolves, and only barely escaped with his own life. Had the Indian hunter not shown up, he would surely have lay there protectively over his dead familiar until his last breath. This was the inspiration behind what the Indian painted upon Wildheart's coat on the way into battle.
Upon returning to the safe grounds, a cry could be heard back out in the field. Following it, an outburst: "Featherwind!" Wildheart's ears perked up instantly and his head whipped around, to look for the speaker. He saw a horse running forwards, but from where he stood he couldn't see the owner of the cry. Without another moment's delay he ran towards the speaker, a grey mare. By the time he caught up with her, a spray of arrows arced through the air, piercing her coat and killing her. But he had caught sight of the source of the cry. Another mare was lying on the ground, arrows sticking out of her front legs and shoulder. This one, as he had hoped, had a tan coat and black mane & tail. She was covered in war paint, similar to his own, and as he slid to a stop her noticed a bird lying before her, dead.
Standing over her, he lowered his head and whispered, "What was his name?" Without looking up, the mare replied sadly, "Shadowtalon... he was always there for me..." Wildheart knew her pain and spoke softly, "We will always remember him in your war paint, as I will remember Bloodclaw in mine, sister." This woke her from the pain of loss, and she looked up into the face of her long-lost twin, realizing who he was. After all this time, they had found each other!
The war around them melted into the background in their moment of reunion. He bent further down to nuzzle his long-lost sister now that he had gotten her attention, and continued, "We have time for stories later, but now we should remove these arrows and get to safety." As if to remind them of the danger around them, a soldier fell to the ground at their feet, hurt and crawling forwards. As Wildheart helped the injured man onto his back, Featherwind pulled the arrows out of her coat and gingerly made it to her feet. She nudged him to say she was ready, dead companion held carefully in her mouth. Her brother nodded and started back towards the safe grounds, shouldering anything and everything out of his way. She followed in his wake, limping but valiantly keeping up to his steady pace.
Reaching the safe grounds, Wildheart lowered to the ground, letting the man down, then turned to tend to his sister. The two of them waited patiently until the man had been seen to, before a woman approached Featherwind and applied salve and bandages to the deeper wounds. Both nuzzled the woman in thanks and wandered towards the tree line where Featherwind placed Shadowtalon up against a trunk.
The only thing left to do, was win the war. Brother and sister turn towards the battlefield once more, side by side, heads held high. Both take a deep breath and plunge back into the dance of combat.
Together at last.
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Posted: Sat Jul 11, 2009 8:53 am
Male's name: Inotep
Male's personality and/or brief bio: For Ino, there is no greater joy than being recognized as one of the protectors of the Kawani tribe. He comes from a long line of warriors, and only wishes to live up the expectations that have been set by his father and his ancestors past. Ino is a bold stallion who lets no fear shine through his heart, and in the midst of battle, there is no one you would rather have at your side. His downfall is that he is boastful of his warrior lineage which grants him more ill acquaintances than true friends.
Female's name: Lanshwa
Female's personality and/or brief bio: Her father wanted a son. Plain and simple. One who could train to be a warrior and carry on the family name. But no, he got her. And Lanshwa has had to deal with his disappointment every day of her life. But a truly stubborn nature fuels the fire in her heart, and she resents nothing more than being told what she can or cannot do. She began to train as a warrior in effort spite her father’s wishes for her to become the companion of a twoleg food gatherer. Lanshwa has survived among the ranks of stallion warriors-to-be with a quick wit and an even quicker tongue.
Your tale:
There is a story passed down over the generations. A whispered tale to calm the minds of foals so that they may succumb to sleep. A story of friendship, born over unusual circumstance. It is spoken of by the elders, who swear that truth lies at its core. But no one believes them anymore…
The sun was beginning its careful descent towards the horizon, its penetrating rays marred by a sheath of evening clouds. In the village, torches were being lit to ward off the chill of the descending night. The small figures of twolegs and their larger Soquili companions darted to and fro among the teepees, preparing for the celebration that was to ensue later that night. At the heart of the tribe, in a small clearing set aside for nights such as this, the Chief stood before a roaring fire. Ceremony paint was etched into the wrinkled lines of his face, a smoldering expression that brought a hushed calm to the people of Soquili of the Kawani tribe that gathered before him. “Tonight, we gather to celebrate the welcoming of two warrior-to-be’s into the realm of the great warriors that protect this tribe.” With a slow wave of his hand, he let his deep, masculine voice flow towards the crowd. A hushed murmur rose into the air, silenced quickly by another stern look from the Chief. “Inotep. Lanshwa. Step forward so that the great spirits of warriors past may receive you into their ranks.” From the shadows, two young Soquili emerged.
The stallion danced forward eagerly, liquid topaz optics bright with confidence. Cream hooves struck the earth with careful rhythm, bringing his large body to rest at the Chief’s side. An expectant shiver ran through his muscular frame. And for a second, he stood alone. But, far more carefully, a young mare materialized in the outer reaches of the small circle of light thrown off from the flames. Her movements were slow and precise, her lithe body carried forward with impossible grace. Her face, illuminated by the flickering light of the fire, was haunting beautiful, carrying an array of tumbling emotions. Pride. Confidence. Yes, they were all there. Apprehension. That was there too. A minute smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she tried to retain a serious expression. She too brought herself to the Chief’s side, waiting there patiently.
“Inotep. You do accept the warrior code layed down by our ancestors after the battle of Kunaih?” Ino dipped his head in respectful agreement, a proud grin spreading across his handsome features. “Of course.” The Chief nodded, turning now to face Lanshwa. “Do you, Lanshwa, accept the code? To live by its guidance for as long as you remain a part of the Kawani tribe?” A pause. Then another. Lanshwa gradually dipped her head. “I do.” The Chief raised both his hands into the air, and a great cheer arose from human and Soquili alike. “In the name of the Warrior Spirits, we take these two into the ranks of our protectors. May they live long and survive many battles!” Another cheer arose from the crowd as a small boy came up to the Chief, his small hands wrapped around of a bowl of paints. The Chief dipped two fingers into the paint before turning to Inotep. On the stallions front leg, the Chief drew an eagle, doing the same to Lanshwa a moment later. “You are now united with the soaring spirits of the great warriors of the past. May they guide you in battle.” Inotep puffed out his chest, a look of utter pride and bliss on his face. Lanshwa took a deep breath, searching the crowd for the familiar face of her father. But like always, he wasn’t there.
Darkness fell across the Kawani Lands, a silvery crescent move taking its post in the sky. Lanshwa looked up, seeking out the spirits of the great warriors who were supposed to look down on them. But the night was black, and the stars cold and distant. She and Inotep were supposed to sit out their vigil here, a top a grassy knoll just outside the ring of teepees that made up the Kawani tribe. They were the sole protectors of their friends and family, just for tonight. But away from the comforting glow of the fires set up between teepes, the chill of the open plains sunk easily into her body, stealing away the warmth until she couldn’t suppress a shiver. ”You ok?” Ino’s low voice cut through her reverie, jerking Lanshwa back to reality. She nodded quietly. But inwardly, she cursed herself. Warriors were supposed to be strong, unfeeling. And here she was, undone by a single blow of the night wind. ”It’s ok you know. To talk. It’s not like there are any rules against it.” Ino tried again, heavy crania tilted slightly to one side. Lanshwa sighed, head lowered until her nape ran parallel to the ground. ”I know. It’s just so strange, being out here alone at night.” Ino grinned easily, sending his flaxen mane flying with a single shake of his head. ””But you’re not alone. You won’t be as long as I’m here.”
The words, though meant in comfort, sent a spike of rage through Lanshwa. ”I’m not afraid of being alone. I don’t need you to protect me!” Her tone was venomous enough to cause Ino’s confidence to falter slightly. ”You know thats not what I meant.” Inotep protested, trying to appease his suddenly hostile ally. Lanshwa turned away with a flip of her head. After a few violent flicks of her braided tail, she calmed. ”I’m sorry. It’s just something I’ve been having to deal with my whole life.” She left it at that and for a while, an uneasy silence descended on the pair until… ”So. You going to talk about it or am I going to have to pry?” Lanshwa closed her eyes at the sound of Inotep’s voice. No, she didn’t want to talk about. No. But still, he asked. And that was a revelation in itself. He apparently cared enough to bother her about it. But no, she didn’t want to talk about it…
”It’s my dad.” She began slowly, trying to choose her words carefully. ”He wanted a boy. But he got me. And I’ve had to deal with his disappointment every day of my life, theres no escape.” Ino grimaced at the crushing sense of pain that radiated from Lanshwa as she continued. ”He wanted me to be the companion of a human food gatherer.” She laughed bitterly, silvery tears welling up below her icy optics. ”He told me that warrior training for no place for a girl. But I showed him. I had to. He told me I couldn’t, and I had to show him.” There was a definite note of pain in her voice now from the release of memory. Her voice dropped to a near whisper as she went on, her eyes closed. ”I never wanted to be a warrior. But I had to prove to my father that I wasn’t just some girl. That I was just as good as any son he could have had. But he never believed me. He wasn’t there tonight at the ceremony. I looked and looked, but he didn’t show.” Built up tears ran down her face from under the shut lids, creating runs of color in the dark paint that her fellow warriors had drawn across her face and body in their acceptance of her into their ranks. She stood there for a moment until she felt a warm weight as Ino laid his head across her neck. For a few moments, she basked in the kindness of the gesture before moving away. But for Ino, his mind was reeling.
He had spent all his life either wanting to be a warrior or training for the day he could become one. There had been nothing else in his life. And he couldn’t imagine anything better, or anything different. And here he was, standing here amid the sea of grass bathed silver in the moons light, listening to a mare, a warrior, telling him she had wished she had chosen a different path. It was inconceivable. For a few moment, he was silent. And then a few moments more. ”That is your choice.” He spoke in a confident tone, but there was an underlying current of uncertainty that Lanshwa picked up on easily. ”But here’s the thing, its your choice.” His voice picked up, more easy now but more insistent. And there is no reason that you can’t be proud of that. It isn’t what your father wanted you to do. It want you wanted to do.” Lanshwa was quiet> What he said was true. But how could she serve her tribe and the Kawani people if she was riddled with regret and apprehension.
”And if it makes any difference, I think you’ll be a great warrior.” The trace of uncertainty was gone, and nothing but confident truth showed on his face and in his voice. Lanshwa grinned as she hadn’t in moons. But a greatful nudge on the shoulder was all Ino saw of it. ”Thank you.” Her voice was stronger now, the tears that had overcome her slender muzzle moments before had dried, and a renewed flame of determination glinted in her icy gaze. ”That means a lot.” And it did. More than she thought it would. And it was a surprise to her. But in this over-confident boasty warrior, she had found a friend. A true friend. One of such that was hard to come by. And when she looked up at the stars once more, she felt like an entirely different soquili. No longer did the stars seems so distant. And no longer did the stars feel so cold.
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Posted: Sat Jul 11, 2009 12:39 pm
Male's name: Cha'kor
Male's personality and/or brief bio: "Five Knives" in Feyan. He's a warrior, first and foremost. He'll have thrown himself whole-heartedly into that.
Female's name: Keflee
Female's personality and/or brief bio: Her name is based off a drink similar to "coffee" in the same fantasy series; it's used sometimes as an aphrodisiac, and, of course, as a general stimulant. She's going to be alluring, and seemingly innocent [especially as a foal, in the backstory], but there's an underlying bite that's just waiting to rear its head...and boy, does it. >w<
Your tale:
White. That's what the Elder 'Shaman' of the herd was. Grisly and white. A beard hung down from his chin, wispy and curling, but his eyes were a bright green, vibrant despite his sway-backed age. He peered down to the dark brown foal that stood quietly before him. Too quietly, in his opinion, and showing nothing of the wide-eyed awe most other foals did. Instead, the light in the foals eyes was determined, hard, and glinting.
Scraping a grey and cracked hoof against the ground, the elder huffed before raising his head, looking at the herd full of authority. "Tainted. Cursed." He spoke, to be greeted with gasps of horror and a resounding "What?! Why!" from the foal's mother. They didn't know. They didn't understand. But the elder knew. His horn, chipped and splintered though it was, glistened a moment with his memory. He was old, yes. Ancient in the eyes of the herd. And he remembered. While the herd had always welcomed those of different traits, there were always others that were more unsavory. He'd generally kept track of the descendants...especially those of Kalona-blood that he knew of, and was currently staring one right in the face. "Be wary of him. He will make an excellent warrior...but be wary of him all the same."
Giving the fiery foal one more look, he moved onto the next one; a soft little female with eyes of the sky. She looked up at him, smiling slightly, eyes widening just a tad. He managed a small smile at her vibrant spark and dipped his head. "Clean. Pure."
Lifting his head, he gazed at the herd. "Let us all welcome these two newest additions to our herd."
Cha'kor had thrown himself into his training the moment there was just enough light to see, as far away from the herd without leaving it entirely as he could get. His eyes were fierce, much as he was. A knight? No, there wasn't enough chivalry in him for that, not after the way he'd been treated since that, that Elder said he was tainted. Not even he fully understood it. He'd never been completely calm, even beforehand...but wasn't it possible that when the Elder spoke those words, something inside him made the switch, as if...as if what everyone would see due to the words, he might as well become, because there was no turning back? It was possible.
His temper was always hard to control, he knew, as he trumpeted his cry of battle and smashed the ground beneath his hooves. But he'd always, always controlled it. That was what counted, right? With a heavy grunt, he snapped his teeth and suddenly pulled up short, ears flattening at the sight of the cream-mare that paced forwards with uncanny grace.
"Keflee." He spat. With her it was always harder. Always. She was the non-tainted one. The one that, against all odds, infuriated him when she decided she wanted to fight. That she wanted to be a warrior. He'd never be rid of her. She was the bane of his existence since the day the Elder said he was tainted and she was clean.
"Cha'kor." She murmured in response, ice-blue eyes sharp. A smirk curved her lips. "You need all the time you can get to practice? It's barely light out and already you're making a racket."
Nostrils flaring, he sliced the turf with a sharp hoof in warning. "Better to practice and know than laze around and be caught off-guard."
Keflee snorted and rolled her eyes. His arrogance and sharpness she knew all too well. She knew he despised her because she was a warrior, as he was...and she was good at it. But he also envied her. The herd was not wary around her, as they were with him. Some tolerated him, some wanted nothing to do with him. Keflee found him fascinating, but only just. They were kindred spirits destined for battle. Something about it had called to her, even as the small, wide-eyed filly the Elder had looked down upon.
The smirk widened, and she struck the ground in challenge.
The fire in his eyes leaped. His ears came forwards a little, and he raised an eyebrow. She struck the ground again, swerving her body to strike at him with her hind legs before taking off into the brush, lithe and graceful with her slender, smaller body...but just as powerful as any other warrior.
Cha'kor, not one to take challenges and disregard them, even from Keflee - or maybe especially from her - tore after her with a shrill cry. His heart pumped furiously within his chest as he dashed through the trees, gaining ground on her easily. Too easily, he noted, and put on another short burst of speed to bring him even with her, with just a few feet of space between them.
Breaking through the trees into the clearing, they dug their hooves in and stopped...circling and pacing around each other with testing flashes of sharp hooves. She jumped closer at the time he reared up, slyly avoiding the slash of his hooves to bite at his flanks and dart away before he could land and strike at her.
Cha'kor roared in fury, whirling on his hind legs as he came crashing to the earth again, darting after the cream-coloured mare with his teeth bared. He snapped at her, landing a strike to her foreleg as his teeth snapped at her neck. Keflee sashayed away from him with a wince, trying not to favour her foreleg, lest he see a weakness and exploit it. She dove at him, ears flattened against her skull with a fierce expression--and stopped dead in her tracks, Cha'kor doing the same. Their ears pricked, adrenaline pounding and the light of battle in their eyes. As one, they turned and fled back towards the shrieks of their herd, their feud forgotten in light of making it back to the herd.
Breaking through the trees, they scouted and surveyed quickly, still racing across the large meadow to join them, nostrils flared. A flame-ridden Kalona flew overhead, blood dripping from his lips, a fiendish grin plastered on his visage.
A foal's body lay in ruins, the ground blood-soaked around him.
And it was almost as if they were one entity, Keflee and Cha'kor, as they reared and issued their shrill challenges to the beast in the sky. The beast that answered and dove at them, heedless of the other warriors that now flanked them as their small, but worthy, force was complete. Eight warriors total. More than a challenge for any Kalona...but this one was wise, worldly. Experienced. One of their warriors fell prey to him as he landed. Mare and Stallion leaped forwards, even as the Kalona tore his teeth through the neck of their comrade.
The other five were scattered, even as the two drove forwards to meet impending doom head-on. Something had risen in them earlier, called out by their own mock-battle...and the sight of the foal, stricken on the ground, brought it roaring to the surface. Heedless of the danger, they lunged together, each warrior gripping the base of the wing to the furious monster that made the herd shriek in terror. Bloodlust glinted in their eyes as they clamped their capable teeth upon the appendage, yanking and tearing as much as their teeth could in order to render the Kalona flightless, thus taking away its major advantage against them.
The infuriated shriek from their adversary had them leaping sideways, both smug that they'd grounded the Kalona for the time being...both wanting more. They pulled a united, eerily perfect assault. They were heedless to their own safety, the bloodlust locked within driving them nearly mad until they had the barely breathing beast laying on the torn grass beneath them. And still, their eyes were cold and hard, and they continued to strike. Cha'kor's back was coated in blood. His own and the Kalona's. Keflee's leg, the same.
With a last, haunting shriek, the Kalona shuddered, and lay still as Cha'kor's hoof came with a resounding thud against his skull. Panting, both looked at each other, teeth bared ferally. The warriors edged close, eyes wide, but determined. Both Keflee and Cha'kor whirled, forelegs striking the ground--until they remembered. This was their herd. The madness was still there. Still crawling across their pelts. Their eyes showed it.
The Elder, flanks heaving, paced through the herd slowly, looking upon both. It seemed as though he was wrong. That day, there were two tainted, cursed souls that were welcomed to their herd. Still...both had proven themselves...but this madness that hung around them like a shroud...this bloodlust... It would not do.
"Cha'kor. Keflee. You both have tainted blood...you both are bound by the madness that shines in your eyes. I see that, now, I was wrong those years ago. And as such, I have no choice...no choice but to banish you both from the herd." He spoke with great authority, so much so that even both warriors in question desperately wanted to strike out with words and their hooves, they didn't. "However. This is no permanent banishing. You both still belong to us. ...but you cannot exist with us while you are tormented by your own blood. You both need to find your way...and return to us when you have. ...we will mark you, so you know and remember where you come from."
He turned, pressing his horn against the Kalona-flesh at their feet, and started to painstakingly paint their bodies. Both stood, trembling. Not from fear, or anger, but with the curse that had awoken in their veins. The warriors slowly advanced, wrinkling their noses at the smell of hot, fresh blood, but helped until both were adorned in blood, and blood that was mixed with dark, fresh soil. Eagles were painted upon their upper forelegs, high up, nearly to their shoulders. They still belonged...but not at the moment.
They were exiled.
As the paint finished, they were pointed away from the herd, whose members watched, pain at the loss and fear at what the two had become evident. It hung over them like a shroud.
Keflee and Cha'kor glared at one another, each blaming the other. Each blaming themselves. The madness that lit their eyes would not die for some time. But they would, grudgingly, stick together. They knew that, to survive, they would have to rely on one another. They had no herd, not until they could safely say they were not driven insane by this desire for blood. For War.
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Posted: Sat Jul 11, 2009 2:11 pm
Male's name: Milintica (He Waves Fire)
Male's personality and/or brief bio: Milintica was born a violent, bloodthirsty foal. Upon adulthood he was ruthless, cold blooded... All in all, he was an unfeeling killer until he met Chantesuta. He's mellowed upon learning compassion, but still very aloof and distant... Unless she's involved. Milintica, is also VERY hot tempered.
Female's name: Chantesuta (One of Firm Heart)
Female's personality and/or brief bio: Chantesuta was raised to become a loving, compassionate adult with a fondness for foals. She shows mercy to everyone, however her father's killer is another story-- she longs for nothing less than revenge. Chantesuta, however, is not a warm, fuzzy, cheery type, but rather calm, cool, collected, and firm, but fair, and hard to anger.
Your tale:
It was said long ago that one did not dare risk challenging the spirits of the Earth, the children of the Great Spirit. However, two herds did such, they say. No, no, child, this was long ago, before our One Herd came together. This is our history, the story of your mothers and fathers, and how we came to Be.
The chiefs of that time were vain, cruel, selfish. Each came across pure, good land-- yes, the very land we walk upon now, child! -- and decided to claim it for their own. These Cheifs, the Boss Mares of their herds found the land at the same time, both claiming the spirits favoured them and that it was granted to them both. It did not take long for these mares to declare war. These two founding herds were called the Cochise, and the Wakaun. From the day the Cheifs met, they were at war.
Many were lost to battle, as warriors claimed lives around; a time now known as the Time of Bloodshed. None could recall the night it happened, but as the war continued-- dispair took both herds. Children were born ill, weak, hungry. Food was given to the strong, to breed stronger, and stronger warriors. For many moons did this pass, this quasi-life. Chiefs came to each herd, and chiefs left. Each generation brought untold misery and pain, blood and death-- the Time of Bloodshed, you see child, was a time when monsters, the cursed, and the demons walked these lands.
Our ancestors were no longer Soquili as we are, but monsters, killers, and bringers of death. It seemed all whom entered these lands were cursed to a life of war; as outsiders came in, they were consumed by the hatred of them for one another's herds. No soquili was left intact emotionally, mentally broken until they too, were monsters. Thus it remained, for years on end, until a day an Old One, a shamen of an outside herd, came to both herds.
"I have seen and heard of your war for this land, for the favor of the spirits, and the favor of the Great Spirit himself," The Old One was said to have told the Chiefs of the time. "And I have seen the end of this war."
First, he spoke to the Cheif of the Wakaun, a strong, dark, proud mare with eyes of fire.
"My lady of the Wakaun," The Old One said, his eyes becoming distant. "To you shall be born a son of great strength and power, a power to end the war. However, when his time to ascend comes, it will be past your years. You will not live to see your son become Chief."
The Chief of the Wakaun flew into frenzy, attacking and driving the old one from the herd, biting and screaming at his prophecy, for the Wakaun was a strong, proud breed, clever as serpents, and just as deadly and mistrusting. Next the Old One spoke to the Cochise. Upon his arrival, he spoke to the Chief again. This mare bore eyes of water, and a fine light pelt.
"My lady of the Cochise," The Old One said, once again his eyes becoming distant, as he spoke. "To you will be born a daughter, a fine warrior and mother, whom will take over your people. She will be born with power, and she shall end the war. You, however, will live to see her husband, but you will not live to see her become chief."
Now, the Chief of the Cochise was a kinder warrior, whom, while her own herd was raised to become warriors, was willing and openminded enough to allow outsiders safe passage among her herd, and through the land. She thought on the Old One's words, and granted him that he may rest his hooves for the night, in safety and protection. The following day, instead of mourning her prophecized doom, the Chief bid a celebration be prepared, to honour the prophecized war's end. It was after this that the Old One approached the Chief again.
"Your kindness and generosity to an old one as myself is appreciated," The Old One said. "And your kindness has also not gone unseen by the Great Spirit. When the war ends, it will be seen that the end of the war will bring prosperity to your people, and those whom cross into these lands."
The Old One was not seen after that, but moons past, and both Chiefs were pregnant by their strongest stallions. To the Wakaun Chief was born a dark male with brown mane and tail, and eyes of fire. He was born strong and healthy, and upon weaning this male was trained to kill. To the Cochese chief, a beautiful female, a filly of fair pelt and black mane, with eyes as her mother's, pale as the moon on the ocean. This filly was raised in the art of war, and the ways of her people, taught a mercy unheard of since the war began. These children, the children of the Old One's prophecy, grew.
Milintica, the Stallion, came to power in his mother's reign as the most known and feared warrior of the tribe. To outsider and enemy alike he was merciless, a killer to his bones. He was painted in the mud of the land, to mark his as heir, a painting process gifted to him as the Chosen One to end the war. He grew vain, conceited, and cold, of firm hoof and short temper, caring for little more than the next battle. His mane and legs were wrapped with cloth and wrapped with string and feathers, a proud sight to be seen, a fitting look for the Heir. As his kills grew, he grew colder, and soon painted himself and his chosen warriors in the blood of his enemies. However, it was said power corrupted, and as the vain male preened, believing himself invincible, there was a plot. And, this plot against the great Milintica was carried out; one night his very warriors attacked him, tearing and brutalizing the warrior, before leaving him for dead.
You see, Milintica cared not for his warriors; nor they him, and power in the Wakaun was granted by strength. To this end, Milintica was stripped of his power, and lay, broken and wounded, vowing revenge.
Ah, but what of the Cochise filly, you ask? I see the question in your eyes, don't be so surprised, child! No, Lady Chantesuta was raised as a warrior as well, however she was firm, strict, and not unkind, using only the force needed to ensure discipline. She was stripped of her childhood too young, when her father was slain by the Wakaun; on his bones she swore then to end the war. And it was on a scouting expedition she found Milintica. The tales of the stallion were terrible' they said he was a killer, as he was, but a flesh-eating monster whom ate of his own herd, his own kind; that he was a Skinwalker, a Kalona... All manner of ill things. But while her warriors drew back in fear, Chantesuta saw something else; not a monster, but a male in need. Milintica could not fight, he could mearly wait for death as the party drew near.
But it was their actions that peirced the cruel male to his bones. At Chantesuta's order, he was aided to his feet, and the Lady herself offered her body to lean for support. Milintica, too weary to object, limped home with the warriors. The Cochise were terrified' had not a Wakaun killed her father? Were they not Enemies? However, the Chief herself sensed Chantesuta's desire to help the stallion heal, and he was treated as one of them. During this time the male learned his enemies were not what he was raised believing-- vile, selfish monstrs whom would destroy his herd's way of life, but the compassionate. Slowly, the dead heart was renewed with life, and as he healed, he found he was in love with the Lady Chantesuta-- and she, with him. As he healed, he soon began to teach himself, showing the Cochise his way of life, his clan's war stories, but something else. He expressed, for the first time, remorse for his kills, going to each family in turn and allowing them free blow at their children's killer.
It was here when the Cochise Chief, now old, came to Milintica.
"I was told once my daughter would end the war between our herds;" The Chief began that day. "And now I see that this day will come, and I am grateful to you, for it is you whom has shown the way, Milintica. But I must tell you, my daughter's beloved father was slain by a Wakaun, a female of power and true hate. Until the day she is dead, Chantesuta cannot give you her whole heart and soul, for she has sold herself to the persuit of revenge. I ask of you, warrior, as her mother, please, guide my daughter's spirit home."
Milintica was taken aback-- how could he not be? He was told too, he was to end the war. But his love as well? Yet, the old Chief's eyes spoke truth, and he bowed to her. It was on that day, too, Chantesuta was marked with paint. Red ochre for the blood shed in the past; black coal for the death of those around her... Of her father. Around her neck was placed an ornate arrowhead, a gift from a creature called a human to him for a deed done. Chantesuta that day sought revenge, blood for her father's blood, and taking her warriors, she left for the Wakaun to destroy her father's killer.
The Wakaun too, were on the move. Their prince was gone, and his warriors told the deeds of the Cochise effortlessly. At the lead was the Wakaun chief, dripped in mud and grime, seeking vengance for her son's supposed death. It was in the plain itself that Chantesuta's warriors were overtaken by the Wakaun, and many fell. Chantesuta sent messengers to her herd, and, spying thew Chief, attacked.
You see, child, the Wakaun chief was her father's murderer, in a battle much like Chantesuta's. It was Milintica the messenger came to first, and the Stallion sent them onward to the chief. He was a warrior again, this time driven by porpuse. He gave such a blood curdling scream that say, it was said the Great Spirit sent the great Thunderbird himself to herald his coming-- storms gathered overhead as Milintica rushed to his love's side. The pounding of his hooves were joined by many, the Warriors of the Cochise, and their chief, running beside the stallion once feared. When they arrived, a mighty beat of thunder from the Wings of the Thunderbird announced it, to them, the battlefield caked in death. The Wakaun showed no mercy-- to Chantesuta, the chief desired only death. The Cochise chief rushed to her daughter's side, and the two began again the bagttle begun so long ago, the blood feud begun by their original, arrogant chiefs. What occured next, one could only attribute to the Great Spirit himself.
A single bolt struck both chiefs then, killing them, locked in an eternal battle. As if a herald, rain began to fall, and slowly the stunned herds looked to Milintica. However, instead of ordering the death of the Wakaun, Milintica remembered the kindness the Cochise taught him-- instead ordering they take in the injured, and herd the well into a holding thicket. Then, he began to search among the plain. Standing, broken, bleeding, and bruised over her mother was Chantesuta, weeping for her mother's death. Milintica moved to her side, and slowly began to comfort her, much as a colt his mother, yes, child, as I have seen you with your mother.
But the story ends not with tears-- for Milintica, alive to the Wakaun, was now chief of his people. As was tradition, Chantesuta was now chief of her own people, the Cochise. However, instead of selecting males of their own herds, on that bloody field, in the spot of their ancestors' first quarrel, they claimed one another to love, uniting the herds into one people, the Woape; the Herd of Hope.
And now you know the story of our herd, child, and of our chiefs, why the bond between them cannot be broken.
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Posted: Sat Jul 11, 2009 2:46 pm
Male's name: Yuyutsu
Male's personality and/or brief bio: -Explained Below-
Female's name: Kamna
Female's personality and/or brief bio: -Explained Below-
Your tale: Of all who have been blessed with life, it was too common to find a sole creature who would dare try to abide his own rules, who is brought down by his own greed and blood lust.
However, Yuyutsu had been one of the more fortunate.
It didn't take much for a young, energetic foal to become the hardened stallion he now was, but what he'd experiences in his lifetime would drive any to the point of insanity.
Bred as any other, but to a death-fated pair as unfortunate as Romeo and Juliet, if not worsened.
Not from two feuding families were they forged, but through their families they'd already been bonded, despite the anger and mistrust they held between them. An attempt to bring together war-riddled herds had forced this disastrous marriage upon two of their members, hoping some sort of love would be forged between the two.
They couldn't be any more hating of each other.
How the pair managed to bear a foal was in itself a mere miracle, for the two never seemed to share anything but a cold stare at one another.
Suddenly, their attempt at peace was shattered when the mare admitted in a heated argument that the foal belonged to someone else.
No longer forced to alliance themselves with one another, the two herds clashed in such a way that no horse could survive.... except one.
An enraged mother had been struck dead by her former 'mate', but in doing so had forced the young foal from her stomach, his first glimpse of the world filled with war and death...
No matter how often she'd heard the story, Kamna could not bring herself to believe it. She'd first heard of it when a lone stallion came upon her herd and relayed what he'd seen just across the mountains days before, trying to prove his story with the caked blood on his hooves and forelegs, saying he'd had to push through bodies to continue on his way. The herd had merely thought the stallion mad and forced him away, fearing the young foals would have nightmares due to the stranger. Of course, Kamna had heard it all, lurking in the tall grasses the minute her mother had gone to see the commotion. The story had made her cry as a young filly, and her mother would try to calm her by saying it wasn't true.
Of course, this calmed her only as a child. Now she constantly had her thoughts on the foal wondering how the poor thing was now, if it had survived. She would stare at the sky for hours at a time, unable to think of anything but that story. The herd watched her constantly, often speaking aloud about her loss of sanity, but she didn't care. She knew she cared more than they did about anything.
She'd gone so far as to drown her younger brother, to protect him from this world of chaos he was born into. But of course, no one would appreciate her effort, and so she spoke of how he drowned himself, to make them feel relieved that he'd thought of it himself.
As years passed, she only thought more and more of the foal, and her every wish to see it became granted.
Autumn was settling in early, and the herd couldn't help but feel chilled with the blowing winter winds. No one had spotted the figure on the horizon, too blinded by their thoughts of how to continue the year peacefully.
Kamna was the first to spot him, her eyes widening curiously as she mentioned it to the herd. They looked just in time to see the stallion approaching, his head held highly as he made his way towards Kamna and smirked, a dark aura seeming to radiate from him as he spoke, "You don't seem too scared, miss..." Kamna looked into the eyes of her dark knight, his eyes filled with a hatred that made all in her herd uneasy... that is, all except Kamna. She gave a light nod, "You're the one the stranger spoke of... aren't you?" The stallion's smirk faded and he stepped dangerously towards her, "Stranger?" The herd seemed to step back in unison, but Kamna held her ground, "Long ago, a foal was born from war... that was you, wasn't it?" Before she finished, the stallion had released a built up anger on the unsuspecting herd, turning dangerously towards Kamna as he pressed an innocent skull into the ground as he snarled, "You know nothing of my life, my hell, any of it... don't assume it was as peaceful as yours."
What caught the stallion off-guard was the tears the streamed down the mare's face as she brushed her cheek against his neck, causing him to release his captive and stumble backwards.
Kamna had rushed up to him in an instant, feeling as young as she did the night she'd heard of him, "I may not know you, but I've only thought of you for a long time.... I wished so badly for your well-being, and that you might be happy."
The stallion's laugh came mockingly, "Happy? Happy?! You strange, twisted woman... you want me to be happy, when I've seen-"His sentence was cut short as he slaughtered the nearest bystander, the blood pooling by himself and Kamna. He turned to the mare, expecting some reaction. When he saw none, he continued his slaughtering until the survivors had fled, pressing a hoof against the bodies, "To hell with happiness! There is no happiness in this world!"
Despite his shouts, his anger... Kamna couldn't bring herself to leave him alone, "No, there isn't..." He tone was soft, and she walked up the stallion with no fear as she began to paint his body with the blood of her fallen herd members, "...but there can be, if you work for it hard enough."
The stallion didn't understand her, watching as she painted the markings on his body with the blood of her own kind before doing the same to her, a twisted smile forming on his face, "...Your name?"
She smiled sweetly, a twinge of obsession in her eyes, "Kamna."
He nodded once before turning to walk away, his gaze flicking to her, "Yuyutsu...."
She followed him those few steps he'd taken, coming to stand at his side with her head held as highly as his, "...Let us find your happiness, Yuyutsu... even if it takes all the blood of this earth to create it."
The grins upon their faces couldn't be more agreed upon.
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Posted: Sat Jul 11, 2009 3:35 pm
Male's name: Tarein
Male's personality and/or brief bio: A very stern looking male who actually is an okay guy when it comes to having fun. Loves teasing the ladies and never really is serious about anything except for wars and fighting. You never mess with his comrades or morals unless you want a good thrashing. But underneath that easy going attitude is a cold killer who has more scars on his soul than on his physical body. Spirits haunt him daily and even nightmares have plagued him, always reminding him of his past.
Still on the inside Tarein holds sorrow and kindness which is shown only to those closest to him. He also is protective of Kallista, and originally helped her because of her sister who saved him from his blood filled life. Now he helps his companion Kallista because he deeply cares for her.
Female's name: Kallista
Female's personality and/or brief bio: A very sharp tongue warrior, Kallista prefers solitude and a serious atmosphere compared to those found amongst most of the younger or less inexperienced warriors who are off duty. She has seen a lot of fights. Even as a foal Kallista had to watch her family fight as the family separated and collapsed in one bloody confrontation. She refuses to experience a good time with a male and despises easy going males who flirt with the ladies because of a past experience. Not to mention it reminds her of her dead father. She has gone berserk before on the battlefield and doesn’t hold back when in her fits of rage.
But still her sister’s memory makes her grow solemn and those blue eyes that she shared with her sister will show that deep inside is a loving mare who just wishes for a calm life full of the love she missed out on.
Your tale:
Tarein had been taken in by a band of warriors who fought underneath the protection of the bleeding moon. Many bands of traveling mercenaries existed in those times, but this group was especially feared. For they held no mercy, not a hint of kindness existed for those in their way and every place they touched quickly became scorched and soaked in blood.
Because Tarein was a wild one with no morals nor pity on the weak, he became a perfect match to the leader of the band. Soon his mane and tail was braided with many prize feathers given to him by the leader who praised his work in each raid. Many moons passed and still Tarein felt nothing but joy in the nonstop violence. For his heart had frozen long ago with the slaughter of his own family who had received no help. Then something sad yet miraculous happened to the stallion. A young foal with big eyes full of mercy was hurt by Tarein because it was by his leader’s orders. Still the little one had looked at him with a smile, “It’s alright…I don’t blame you.” She had forgiven him, though he had taken everything from her.
It was that moonless night that Tarein ran. He ran blindly through the dark, everything blurred as he galloped over the seemingly endless plains, the only thing he knew was that he had to get away. From the band, from the dead ones, and from his own overflowing emotions. Still he didn’t know was that the sister of that very foal would catch him soon.
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Kallista was hurt and alone. Her legs quivered under her weary body and she had no appetite. Fever from running through rain and without food had taken it’s hold on her. But someone had come to her hiding place. He forced her back to health and never left her side from more than a short time. That stallion had saved her and she owed him her life. The fever was gone, but now she recognized the face which she had once sworn to erase. Closing her eyes she remembered how she had first met her sister’s killer. She hated how he refused to fight back, how he had only stood there to take each blow. But he had helped her find her way even then and she couldn’t bring herself to kill him. All she could do was yell at him over and over until the tears threatened to come.
She had finally run from him and left him behind with the stinging words, “Do you wish to die? Fight back! ” She thought she had left him out of her life, but Kallista would find her paths crossed with Tarein again and again. Always he would help her, the sister of the blue eyed foal.
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Kallista stamped at the cold ground. Leaves colored as fire crackled as her hooves broke them into pieces. “The leaves are already covering the ground.” She shook her head before limping out from beneath the trees. Everything seemed so peaceful, too bad it wasn’t so. Surrounding the whole area of meadow and in the forest itself was a band of warriors who were acting as herders. Her herders. ‘For now.’ The mare wasn’t about to give up. Just because they had beaten back her last attempts at escape didn’t mean that the stallions would win next time. Though her body still ached from the punishment…
Ears pressed flat against the mare’s skull as she made her way over to the group of gathered females. “Any moves?”
The dappled mare to her left shook her head wearily, “Nay, just the usual routines. Let‘s accept it, we have no hope.” Others sadly nodded their assent while Kallista snorted at them.
“What are you all? Weak foals?” Once again they left her to graze by herself. The female rolled her eyes at their retreating figures before nibbling on the crisp grass. Everything was so dry here. The land needed rain to quench it‘s thirst. ‘Not all of this blood.’
Another day would pass before Kallista would gain her chance at escape and revenge. For the mare was determined to make them pay for capturing her and those from that kindly tribe like this. The form to allow her success was a storm. Lightening flashed neon blue against the sky and soon enough smoke was coming from the stricken trees. Another had also infiltrated the camp, a familiar stallion whom Kallistra refused to recognize, and his presence helped to distract the warriors. Kallista grinned as she took the situation and lead the others with her away from the war band who had captured them. Flames danced all over the woods that night as they all ran.
Helping them to the forest’s edge, Kallista made her goodbyes and headed back. For she had promised revenge and the mare never went back on her word. In the dark of the night guided by the sounds of terror and light of flame did Kallista find her victims. Bashing against them with her hooves and watching their startled faces filled the mare with a twisted delight.
But she became so lost in her anger and lust for revenge that she didn’t realize how close the flames were until it was too late. Kallista found herself surrounded by the deadly fire which had been her help. Flames danced red around her as she kicked out and whinnied in protest. Darkness clouded her vision and the mare fell.
Another shape jumped over the fire and landed next to her. Tarein’s amber eyes danced like the flames, but his was from worry. “Kallista!” He nudged the mare repeatedly until she finally opened one crystal blue eye. “You must get up!”
“Leave me, or better yet go jump into the flames yourself.” Protested she despite getting to her hooves. Already he was pushing her around the flames and helping her to jump over the lower fire that was already dying. Once again Tarein the killer of her sister had saved her. Oddly enough Kallista was finding herself used to the feeling of his strong body next to hers. She realized that there she would stay as his companion, for she was tired of always running away from this stallion.
Only three simple words left her lips as she found herself following him, “I hate you.” Yet, her heart knew that she was lying. The real truth was quite the opposite after all.
Somehow he knew it as well. Still as he nuzzled her neck the words that left his mouth was, “I know.”
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Posted: Sat Jul 11, 2009 6:54 pm
Male's name: Tecumseh
Male's personality and/or brief bio:
Since he was a foal, Tecumseh has alway's been a fighter.
For he had to fight for his very life.
He was born as the runt in his family of titans.
Every generation in his bloodline was born big and burly.
Born to battle and bred to kill.
His birth was a grand dissapointment, as he was the child of the reining stailllion and the most beautiful mare.
His birth was not only loathed for his size, but because he also unintentionally killed his mother in child birth.
Her body was not able to take the strain of his premature birth, and caused her to die as soon as he was delivered.
The family mourned for his fallen mother, and became distgusted in him.
He couldn't even walk the first day he was brought to this world, and was deemed an embarressment to his ancestor's.
The tribe had left him there, letting Mother Nature do with him as she pleased. For better or for worse.
As he layed their whinnying for the comfort and care of his mother's protection and milk, he was being circled by a pack of wolves.
Their firey eye's danced and laughed as they targeted on the pathetic excuse for a foal.
As they began to lash at him, his shrieks of pain ringing out in the darkest of night, a nerby herd had heard his cries.
Rushing to his desperate call's for help, their hooves rumbled and shook fear into the canine's bones.
Mowing the pack over, the herd trampled the carnivores and swept up the newborn orphan.
As it turned out, they were a rebel tribe. A herd of misfit horses that banned together to fight for little parts of territory.
They were alway's on the go, and had no ally's.
A secret society, they were not very large at all but they raised him as one of their own.
Once he was an adult, Tecumseh had become as strong physically as he was mentally.
He was decored with the paint that his rebel tribe's founder had worn when he first fought to free a group of local outcasted horses, born a failure in their tribe's eye's.
For Tecumseh was the tribe's Robin Hood. Their Knight in Shining armor.
He was the strongest male in the herd, next to their leader.
Alway's protecting the other's and making sure the herd was well taken care of, he was a regular saint.
He fought with pride and honor. Never would he fight without a chivilrous warning to the opponent, nor would he fight an unaware enemy.
There was no valor in cheap fighting.
There might have been gypsy's, but they were not rogue's.
They alway's respected the opposite side.
Female's name: Winona Terttu
Female's personality and/or brief bio:
Her life has been that of the fast life.
The tribe she was born in was a herd of rogue's.
Assassians, pillager's, vikings.
What ever you choose to call them.
She is skilled in the art of theft, raid's and slaying.
With a bat of her icy eye's, she could make your heat stop before you could take your next breath.
Age, gender, rank and form matters not to her.
She will kill who ever she needs to get what she wants; whether it's protecting her tribe and it's territory's, or expanding their territory.
She is a b*****d child, for her mother was raped by an enemy tribe.
Her mother was beaten and punished for being weak while she was pregnant with Winona.
Once the mare was born, she was treated like trash, and had to fight her way up to the top for respect, rank and power.
Her paint markings are that of the shunned blood in her tribe.
If you are a failure, you must wear it on your flank.
She has no friend's and her mother has disowned her.
Her sole purpose is to do what ever the tribe leader and his subordinate's tell her to do.
No matter what it may be.
Without back talk or a fight.
Pure hatered and pain fuels her, causing her to put up with what ever come her way.
Heartless, she was gifted with the manipulation and has no trouble sacrificing herself for her tribe.
Expecially to proove herself worthy.
It's a sad case, really, but not uncommon in her tribe of cold-hearts.
She was lucky to even be alive.
The only reason they kept her was because they knew they could use her against their enemy tribe.
As they do.
Your tale:
It was dusk.
The Sun was just starting to peel down behind the forest's pointed evergreen's. Little song birds chirped their little goodnights to one another gayly.
Doing her usual ritual of combing her tribe's usual territory, Winona's turquoise glower's scanned the land.
Her muscle's were tensed, ready to move in any direction at any moment.
Peach fur was damp with presipitation from the day's humidity.
It clung to her, and was a constant annoyance to her.
The shame that was painted on her body began to distort slightly from having been in the heat and Sun all day.
Long agile leg's were tired and sore from patroling all day.
But she was far used to it by now in her life.
She was alway's sore and in pain.
It's what she deserved after all for being born a disgrace.
Slowly walking through a vast meadow of wild daisy's, Winona's ear's swiveled every which way as she paused.
The wind carried all she needed to know.
It whispered secrets unseen, grazing along her worn body.
Cleansing it, lightly kissing her as it continued on it's way.
Flicking her tail, she snorted and lifted her head higher.
Peering over the scene of lovely flower's swaying innocently, she could see what her eye's couldn't.
Another tribe was nearby.
Snorting again, she lowered her head to it's neutral state, as a mischevious grin curled on her muzzle.
"Mmm... how delicious.."
Cold eye's slanted to narrow slit's, targeting on what was beyond her.
She was in need of a good pillaging, as her tribe had instructed her to find a new territory to over throw.
This was perfect.
It was right along the forest edge, a clear view of anything coming and going.
As she crept slowly, her hooves placing themselves on the ground lightly, she could sense her fellow tribesmen nearby following her in the shadow's and woods.
Oh how she loved to reak havoc upon peace.
The shrieks of horror that would ring out, and the look of pure fear that petrified the weak truly intoxicated her, fueling her as she destroyed their innocence.
His tribe was thriving.
Happiness was thick in the air, and wafted throughout the land seeming to
plague everything else with it's positive vibe.
Tecumseh grinned proudly at his tribe as they bustled about, flourishing and thriving.
They had just gained new territory from a well known tribe.
A rather powerful tribe, at that.
It was such a grand victory! For their herd of gypsy's had started to grow, with new additions on the way.
Summer really was the season of celebration and the traveling misfit's took advantage of everyday they had.
His sandy mane blew gracefully in the sighing wind, his adorned headdressing wavering delicatly.
A happy tribe was a healthy tribe. And that's all that he could ask for.
Pulling himself away from his new family, the rejoicing whinny's echoing softer and softer as he distanced himself from them, he decided to get another look at their new prize.
Hard crimson eye's, parallel to a phoenix's flame, skimmed across the new lands.
Plenty of vegetation thrived here, diffrent varieties for any necessity.
Flower's were abundent, and carpeted the ground he walked upon.
Dark coal hooves placed heavly as he trodded along the outskirts of the outer woods that lined the meadow.
Mushrooms suckled from dead organism's, their caps fluffed up in damp darkness.
A few stray birds would twitter little sample song's on repeat.
Like a symphony dying down, with only a few voices left.
These were his favorite times.
The times when the heat of the battle was over, and it was time to relish your winnings and bounty.
The sweet tinge of honeysuckle perfume tainted the air.
It was so relaxing and calming on the young male, easing his weary muscles.
His strong masculine neck stretched upwards, his dirty blonde hair dangled behind him, his snout to the heavens.
Closing his liquid amber eye's, he inhaled the life that pulsed around him.
A silent pause.
In that instant of peace and tranquility, evil quickly slit the throat of happiness.
It was quiet..
The celebrations of his tribe was not to be heard.
Flipping his eye's open, Tecumseh held his breath.
All that was to be heard was the eerie exhale of the hollow wind.
And his heart.
Beating against his broad chest.
His blood pumping through his veins.
That was all.
Instantly, instinctivly, the powerful male turned back towards his tribe's location and galloped thunderously to them.
Upon coming to them, his heart lept, and his body kicked into his protective mode.
His tribe had been rounded up by another group of three horses.
Three that he had never seen before.
Luckily the trio's backs were to him and didn't catch sight of him.
Their markings and dress was unknown to him, and totally alien from what he usually saw.
They circled his herd like carnivores would.
A flashback instantly slapped Tecumseh, his mind locking for a moment as his childhood haunted him for only a moment, and was gone.
Like a ghost; it left a frozen touch on his body.
The young foals of his tribe whinnied nervously, as they were shuffled into the middle of the adults for protection.
There was a female in the opposing tribe that seemed to be the leader.
Something wasn't right about her though.
She seemed to reak of evil and pain. It was a stagnant auora that surrounded her.
As he took in the situation, he saw that a pregnant female had become their main victum.
She layed on the ground away's from his huddled group, barely moving.
Anger coursed through his body.
He was ready to fight.
"Oh.. seems like one of you got away.."
The female's voice seethed so cynically.
It made his fur stand up, and his skin crawl.
Neighing loudly, he charged at the male's, ramming them from behind.
The male's were slow to react, for they had not anticipated his speed to be so great.
Rushing them with great force, Tecumseh didn't let up at all.
He gave them all he had, nipping at their hinds, rearing up and digging into them with his hooves
After managing to take down the two males, he turned to Winona.
She grinned at him, not phased in the slightest.
"They were weak anyway..."
she scoffed, slowly advancing towards Tecumseh.
He did not move, but kept his eye's locked on her.
"Leave.." he said in a calm but assertive voice.
Laughing, amused by his silly demand, Winona charged at him.
Agiley dodging her, Tecumseh remained calm, not fighting back.
Glaring angrily, and letting out a snort, Winona rushed after him again
as he repeated a graceful dodge.
But she was ready this time, and she bit him on the cheek.
A cheap move.
Wincing slightly, Tecumseh kept his eye's on her and remained showing a calm demnour.
Scowling, her nose wrinkled in distgust, she spat at him, in an attempt to blind him.
He turned his head to the side so the saliva would splatter on his jaw insted, which in turn was followed by the savage female's head ramming against his neck.
Grunting loudly, Tecumseh was pushed back as she continued to buck him with her head.
Trotting back, she circled around him, snorting obnoxiously while her hooves lifted high and proud.
"Come on! Fight me! What's wrong with you?" she coaxed
His eye's remained firm, not phasing from her tactics at all.
"I will not fight a female.." his eye's were stern and adament.
With an aggressive neigh, Winona tossed her head annoyingly.
"What's wrong with you?! Are you some kind of idiot! I'm better than any male. Fight me!"
She charged him again, biting at his shoulder.
Again, he winced, but stood his ground.
His tribe watched him, all silent.
They knew this was his battle.
For it would not be honorable to go to his aid.
She trotted around him faster, snorting as she got irritated even more.
Looking to his tribe, where a few were now tending to their fallen comrad, she thrusted her head upward to them challengingly.
"Come on! Fight me!"
Her pathetic attempts to proove her power on her own did not break them.
They simply stared, their eye's adament as well.
She neighed unbearbly loud, trying her best to act tough.
Turning to Tecumseh, she reared up and rushed him again, digging her hooves into his side.
He stood strong, his hooves skidded only slightly.
His eye's closed only half way, but remained determined.
Maddness consumed Winona.
"Fight me!!!" she continued her cheap attacks on the male.
As he continued to remain on the defense.
She was so desperate.
And it was pointless for her to try and over take their new land.
Rage just kept pouring into her as she rushed, charged, nipped, rammed and stomped the male.
The whole tribe could see her pain, her saddnes, her lonliness.
It was a sad case, really..
Her efforts were heartbreaking.
She was a misfit, just like them.
But her pain fuled her desire to be accepted by the wrong side.
There was nothing they could do but watch, and let her tire herself out.
Tears streamed down her face as she lashed at Tecumseh, cry's of agony ringing from her throat.
Growing tired, her attack's became weaker and weaker, until her body collapsed in exghaustion.
The tribe broke off to do their daily rituals as if nothing had happend, as
the two male's defeated before retreated.
Accepting that they had lost.
Tecumseh lowered himself next to Winona, staring at her with kind eye's.
She slept, her cavity rising and falling slowly, as she murred in her sleep.
He swept his tail around his hind, and looked off to his tribe.
He would watch over her as she slept.
She might have alway's been alone, but tonight she would be protected.
Tonight she would be accepted.
She would be understood.
For everything she is, and isn't.
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Posted: Sat Jul 11, 2009 9:58 pm
Male's name: Kyrimian (based off of “Kriemhild” a name meaning "mask" and "battle" then changed like crazy)
Male's personality and/or brief bio: Kyrimian is a mystery, from his name to his past, nothing about him is truly known; there are almost no confirmed facts on the stallion, not his age, nothing but the basics, what any physical description or meeting could produce. Despite being an enigma and liking it(or so he claims), Kyrimian has the most attention seeking, obnoxious, loud-mouthed personality you could imagine. He often brings Adytia, his traveling companion, flowers, to irk her. Kyrimian tells several stories about his past, one of which was that he is the heir to an rather large, important herd in a far off land, another is that he was an abandoned stray from a random fling, still he claims to be an ancient shaman who gained eternal youth, no one truly knows his past, none but Kyrimian himself. He met Adytia when she was a child, and took he with him, as a traveling companion, if not his closest friend.
Female's name: Adytia (self-made variation of Aditi, meaning "boundless, entire" or "freedom, security")
Female's personality and/or brief bio: Would a rose smell just as sweet by any other name? Would a rouge with the heart of a weed be anymore ‘Lady-like’ if she had another name? Would she be just as cruel and crazy any other way? Well…no for the last two questions…possibly for the rose, I guess. Adytia was never the sweet child, always the outcast, forever the villain, never the damsel in distress. Who was she? She was a normal, average village filly when she was born, she actually held more love than anyone else, for everyone else, but she was such a clumsy foal, always destroying things, always being blamed for things that the other girls did. Well, maybe we should back up a bit and go into detail. Adytia was a rather ‘classic’ girl once, the shy quiet type with the big, blue eyes, the shiniest mane and tail, and a innocent heart. It was just that, well, one filly in particular didn’t like that much, and she decided to make tormenting Adytia her goal. In short order, harsh rumors spread, one of them in particular, being that he father, well, he wasn’t really her father. Seeking comfort, Adytia went and asked her mother about the truth, shockingly enough, he father really wasn’t her father, the rumor was actually truth. Knowing the truth of her birth, Adytia ran to the forest, deep, deep, into the forest, that’s when she met Kyrimian….
Your tale:
Muffled weeping drifted through the forest, almost inaudible, but for the sound of water and grass being blown by ragged breath. Kyrimian raised he head from the grass he was grazing, a bad habit, to stop a meal, but curiosity was a favorite of his. He followed the sound through a good amount of forest, and got himself a few scratches for his trouble (they were ignored, though), and came upon a filly crying under the a tree in a clearing. That was not the most intriguing part, however, a black aura of misery and…was that? Self-hate settled around the girl like a cloak.
“Pretty little fillies shouldn’t cry,” Krymian joked, alerting the small filly, possibly even yearling, to his presence.
Startled blue irises, stained red by grief, looked up at the stallion, “W-who are y-you?” She sniffed.
“Hm…interesting question, who am I?” The stallion pondered, then after a mental debate, he said, “Call me Kyrimian, I guess, I had a friend once, with a similar name,” why he was telling this filly all this detail…well, it’s not like it wound matter much…he hoped.
She looked up sniffing, “I’m Sacnite,” she paused, “Or I was,” she amended.
“Was?” The stallion asked, was this little girl banished?
“Was,” She repeated a bit hollowly, the reality getting to her, as the shock wore off. “I guess that is the right word for it,” she sighed sadly, “I’m not really Sacnite, because daddy named me that, and well…daddy’s not daddy,” She had no idea why she was sharing everything with this stranger, but…she needed to tell her secret to someone…and…this stallion seemed…honest if queer.
“You’re banished then?” He knew better than to bring up anything on her former comment, he understood the meaning, anyway.
“No…” She sniffed, almost crying again, “I ran away.”
Taken aback, Kyrimian snorted in disbelief.
A load wail soon followed.
Panicking (if this was a cartoon, his eyes would be huge circles and he would be sweating like crazy), Kyrimian tried to calm the little girl down, “Ermm, don’t cry, uh, being an outcast isn’t that bad!”
The wailing just got louder.
“Your parents wouldn’t be happy!”
Heartbroken slobs tore at her trembling form.
“Uhhhhhhhh……….I’ll find you a new name?”
The volume of her cries nearly deafened him.
“How about we…defend those weaker than us and then you can help them?”
He nearly smacked himself for that one, who the heck would do that?!
“R-really?” She looked up at him with big doe eyes, hope blossoming on her face.
“Yes…?” Kyrimian replied, blinking in disbelief.
The filly stopped crying, “Promise?”
“Yes,” He replied.
A little while later….
“Why are you painting these markings on me, aren’t they for warriors?” The filly asked curiously.
“Well, these are to symbolize who you are, and why you are,” Kyrmian replied, “Besides, you are also a warrior now, one who will grow to be a true defender of the weak.”
“I’ll be the best warrior mare ever!” She promised, then curiosity taking over, “Which markings stand for what?”
“Well, the markings on your face are for your past, the eagle on your arm for you new life, name, and goal, the other stripes are for your victories,” He explained.
“Then what about you?” She asked.
“Me?” He asked back, surprised.
“Yep, where are your markings?” she wanted to know.
“I have too many, to many to paint,” He replied, slowly and thoughtfully.
“Then how about we start a new collection together?” She asked.
“Well, we could certainly do that,” he agreed.
And so he was painted with markings of his own—and, as she insisted, a eagle.
A few years later…….
The mare raced through the underbrush, stalking her prey, she was no longer an innocent filly, she was a full warrior.
The rouge skinwalker she chased cursed as she caught up to him, and reared, bearing his teeth. The mare snapped back in response. After a grueling battle, the skinwalker fled, not in defeat, no this was more of a stalemate. Angry, the mare was about to give chase, but a voice stopped her at the last second.
“Don’t, he won’t bother anyone for a while,” the stallion murmured.
“Oh? But he will be back, eventually!” Adytia argued back.
“And risk your wraith? I don’t think so,” Kyrimian replied.
Somewhat mollified by his complement, to her at least, Adytia abandoned her battle.
“Oh, I got you flowers,” Kyrimian added as an afternote.
A snarl of pure rage left the mare’s lips, seeming to make the earth tremble. She loathed flowers.
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Posted: Sun Jul 12, 2009 1:15 am
Contest is closed! Judgement shall commence. pirate
I'm being unexpectedly called out tomorrow so I should hopefully have winners by Monday. Please check back then!
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Posted: Mon Jul 13, 2009 8:59 pm
First of all, thank you everyone for your entries-- I had a blast reading them, and I really appreciate the effort put into every one of them. (Some of you guys are just... ffffff UNREAL. Prolific writers much?! eek ) However, after a difficult decision, the winner of this contest is shadowicedragon1. Her entry was brisk, brutal, and took me completely by surprise, which was awesome. =D I enjoyed the no-nonsense narration, her incorporation of jewelry and paint, and the clever, compelling plot. Congrats! (I will be PMing you shortly.) There was one more entry that I really liked, and will receive a runner-up prize-- Tamiko_kitten. I found her story beautifully written, lyrical, and very sad (Vance has feelings too okay D< ). The explanations of the body paint were very poetic. smile Congrats! I will be PMing you as well. Again, thank you all for participating-- I feel bad that I can't give everyone something, esp when the entries were all of such quality. Perhaps next time!
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Posted: Mon Jul 13, 2009 9:19 pm
Congrats, guys!
Thanks for the contest, Vance. XD <3
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