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 Posted: Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:34 pm
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Posted: Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:45 pm
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Posted: Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:48 pm
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-- Personality & History --
Personality:
Rules never applied to Emilian; even as a colt he was violating the laws of the land. He and his siblings were taught how to run an efficient scam as soon as their brains were able to comprehend the best ways to trick others. He was taught how to choose marks, different strategies to use, and most importantly how to evade capture. At times it would be as easy as stealing some food another had stored up, while other times it was snatching jewels from necklaces that were being worn at the time of the theft. This training served not only to make him an excellent thief but also one of quick wit, one who can make snap decisions under pressure. Equally, it helped him to acquire the skill of light footedness, he is able to move quietly and gracefully rather quickly.
He does not steal out of malice or to purposefully cause others pain, he is a thief so that he and what is left of his once proud clan may survive. He only ever takes what is needed and fights hard to avoid the slimy clutches of greed. After all, greed is what cursed his people to live the life of cutpurses in the first place. He carefully studies his mark before choosing to scam them, determining whether or not this will leave them in a horrible bind or if it is something they may overcome. Some of his family members are not as considerate as he, but this is not seen as a sign of weakness. All members of the clan respect him and he in turn respects them, they are family and he loves them dearly.
Part of Emilian’s charm is his unpredictable and altogether unconventional way of doing things. He has travelled since he was very young, seeing things that many soquili may never get the chance to. He carries with him a perpetual air of mystery which, to most mares, is exciting and dashing to a certain degree. It helps that he has the good looks to back up his charm but he does not rest solely on these. However, Emilian is not perfect; unlike many of the members of his clan he has not perfected the mask of absent emotion needed to be the best. When he is happy he is genuinely so, when he is sad he is truly hurting and he is incapable of truly hiding these things. It has gotten him caught a time or two when working a mark, to the point where he had to abandon the plan. At times it frustrates him that he cannot simply be a blank slate but one of the eldest mares in the clan convinced him not to change it. He is still unsure why but she seemed very adamant that he was meant to be different from the rest of them.
Being a Gypsy, Emilian has lived an itinerate existence since the day of his birth. Home to him is not a physical place but rather the manifestation of a feeling when surrounded by his clan. They have no one place to lay down their roots but as long as they are all together, wherever they travel is home. This makes Emilian a fiercely devoted individual. He will never leave his clan for they are the only home he has ever known. Every elder is grandmother or grandfather to him; he does not know who his true birthparents are because everyone has stepped forward to care for him and his many siblings. To any outsider it may seem a strange or sick dynamic but it is what he has come to know as reality. It brings him great joy to think that one day he may start a family of his own.
Gypsies are very careful when giving their hearts to another. It is rumored even that Gypsies cannot feel love, only lust in the heat of the moment. Emilian isn’t sure what to believe but, being a young stallion is inclined to believe the latter. The tale of the pearl being stolen has been one that has been told and retold many times to him. The part about the pearl bringing love often has him thinking if it has taken that emotion from them as far as loving outside of their clan. He has yet to find any mare who catches his eye for more than one night. He has also been told that the most important rule for a thief is that they never fall for the mark; tales of disaster only come from this. Being a young and restless male he tries not to think much on this subject but it does come up every so often.
Along with being associated with danger, and mystery Gypsies have long been connected with the arts. They are a very passionate group of individuals, expressing it through dancing (What I mean by dancing ^^ Enjoy!) and creativity. Music is within their blood whenever they hear a beat they cannot help but to move along to it. Emilian, like his ancestors, has a deep love and appreciation for art. From the beautiful colors of the sunrise and sunset to the voice of another, he finds himself enraptured. He holds nothing back and isn’t ashamed to reveal it. He is quite good at dancing as well as with words, which aids him when wooing mares. The bright colors around his eyes are evidence enough as to how the arts influence his life.
History:
The title ‘Gypsy’ wasn’t always equated with diehard cutpurses and vandals. It used to be that being a Gypsy meant a lifetime of constant travelling, dancing, living outside of societal norms, and the classification of an outsider. They were a peaceful race, preferring the life of those immersed in nature to those who followed multiple laws and rulers. Their clans were their family and the only thing that concerned them was pleasing that family. There once was one such clan, the Kal' Enedral, that managed to travel as far as the Kawani lands, a treasure of great value being the only possession they would not barter away or lose in their folly. This treasure was called the Pearl of the World and it was rumored to bring good fortune, health, and love to those who carried it.
With this pearl the Kal’ Enedral clan never wanted for anything, they were always in good health, food was plentiful, and the road was always kind. However, as with every time of peace there must be a disturbance. The King of this new land stumbled upon these strange travelers one day and took advantage of the hospitality they so warmly offered to him. His kingdom was by no means suffering, but when he saw how well these vagabonds lived the warmth of envy and greed began to well up within him. He stayed with them through the night, dancing, eating their food, and enjoying their culture all the while wondering what brought them such good fortune. His patience and curiosity was rewarded when the elder of the clan began telling the tale of the pearl to a few foals. He had never heard of such a thing and found himself wondering if it were perhaps too good to be true when the old mare revealed the location of the wondrous item. The greedy king, betraying their trust, made off with the pearl.
With the pearl gone sickness, starvation, and hatred swept through the clan like the plague. Many died while others turned to trickery and thieving in order to survive. The once peaceful clan came to be known as the scum of the earth, a nasty black smudge on an otherwise clean backdrop. The King had unknowingly unleashed this evil of his own making upon the land. Though the pearl did as rumored the Gypsies would often steal that wealth or spread illness. Unfortunately, greed prevented the King from merely returning the pearl to its rightful owners. Generation after generation was born to this chaos, and soon much of the knowledge of what happened had corroded over time. This story had been passed from elder to elder in the Kal’ Enedral clan, finally reaching the ears of a colt named Emilian, the one who was destined to act upon its message.
Character Quirks:
Emilian has a tendency to make unwise wagers for unusual items or small amounts of gems. He has never been cheated, and he has never backed down from one of these bets but it isn’t uncommon for the trouble the action causes to outweigh the worth of the prize. It would be fair to say he has somewhat of a problem when it comes to gambling, for it is not in his nature to back down. Regardless of what happens he enjoys the sensation of adrenaline and ends up with a large smile on his face either way.
As is the tradition in his clan, whenever Emilian meets someone he raises his right foreleg, bows his head and says "sastipe" which means hello, or good luck and good health in his native tongue. When saying goodbye to someone he simply bows his head, lifts his left foreleg, and says "may the open road bring you good fortune and health." This is something that cannot be skipped, it is considered polite for the Gypsies and it would be wise to return an equally as courteous greeting.
Emilian often calls the princess "Mira Pakvora" meaning, roughly translated, “my beauty.” Though he has been raised in the Kawani lands it isn’t uncommon for him to slip into his native tongue, and he always has the accent of his clan when speaking. This makes him even more exotic than he already is, and he takes great pride in it.
He has a deep love and respect for the moon; he calls it his “pale mistress,” or his muse. He sees it as being more than a silvery rock glowing in the sky; he sees it as one would see a goddess. When looking at her he sees strength, for it is her duty to influence the tide and keep the night from becoming too dark. When feeling artistic he will often look to the moon for inspiration.
The wrap upon his head holds coins from each place he has ventured to. They hang delicately yet quite beautifully and he loves nothing more than showing them off. To him, and his clan, the wrap is a telling of his history. This is his most valuable possession and he quite enjoys telling tales about it.
He is a very proud Gypsy and he is willing to tell the tales of his ancestors to anyone willing to listen. Normally others are too frightened or wary of him to listen but when they do they find themselves enveloped in an entirely different world.
Strangely enough Emilian doesn’t get along too well with creatures of the sea, he doesn’t know what it is but they normally don’t like him. The Princess’s octopus is no exception to this law and he finds himself wanting to toss it back into the sea every time he visits her.
Emilian is very competitive when it comes to other males, call it testosterone but he does not like to be beaten. Aside from his brothers in the clan he normally doesn’t get along with other stallions. |
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Posted: Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:50 pm
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-- The Story of Emilian Lovel --
Rumors of the Princess of the Sea’s beauty had long circulated throughout the kingdom in hushed tones or fantastical stories. These tales could have no claim of truth for no one had laid eyes upon her since her presentation at birth. Little did those living within her family’s kingdom know, but along with her elegant beauty came a deep sadness which threatened to engulf her in eternal darkness. Ever since she could remember she had spent her time enveloped in jagged rocks commonly referred to as the tower. Her only view of the world outside was the white crested waves rolling languidly in the distance, motioning for her to leave her prison and find peace in their salty embrace. Even so, Molokai was duty bound to remain where her parents had placed her. They had long since abandoned her but she never gave up hope that they would one day return to her with love for their only daughter gleaming in their eyes. All of her days seemed to blend into one as she did anything she could to keep her mind off of her loneliness, an octopus named Inky being her only constant companion. He had been a gift from one of her professors, the most amazing gift she had ever received aside from the wondrous pearl she kept hidden away in a green glass orb protected by her friend.
From the day she could comprehend speech she had been informed that she was to be married to the noble prince Nikolai. She had heard from the few that came to her tower over the years of his just temper and handsome exterior. He seemed like an astonishing stallion and she often found herself fantasizing about the day she would finally be able to smile at him in greeting. These dreams of meeting Nikolai kept her from crushing darkness on many occasions, but alas, he never came. Sometimes she would peer through the jagged rock that formed her cage and see a sturdy figure in the distance, seemingly staring back at her. Her eyes would rest upon this silhouette for hours, her mind willing it to move toward her. Though her prince remained absent from her life she never stopped dreaming of the day when he would clamber up the steep rocky walls of her tower and rescue her.
The prince, unlike her parents, had not intentionally abandoned Molokai. Nikolai was everything the tales had described and more, but he was also painfully shy. Ever since the pearl had been gifted to the princess as a promise of their betrothal he had thought of how he would approach her. He would spend hours outside of her tower, gazing upward so that he may catch merely a glimpse of her beauty. Often he would listen to her melancholy melody echoing out over the landscape, a heartbreaking plea for help, and fight to gain the confidence needed to approach her and save her from her captivity. Unfortunately, every time he seemed to talk himself into it his hooves would plant themselves firmly into the ground and the courage would slowly drain from him. He wanted nothing more than to be the hero she expected, the mate she dreamed of, and the prince he knew himself to be, but something within him just would not cooperate.
Molokai was not the only one who placed her future mate upon a pedestal, Nikolai had done the same. In his eyes the princess was much like his family’s pearl that she possessed, flawless and beautiful beyond all imagining. Her voice tugged at the strings of his heart as well as the tethers of his soul, and though he had only truly met her once he found himself deeply in love. She was the symbol of his happy future, the good thing that would come out of the strange relationship with his family. The one thing Nikolai never counted on was that his days of working up confidence in order to talk to his bride to be were numbered. The reality of this situation hit him only when a shadowy figure snuck into her tower one night, and what came to pass made him realize he may lose her.
It was by complete accident that the gypsy even discovered the strange formation of rock. His clan had sent him on a mission to retrieve something that had been stolen from them long ago when he heard the most beautiful and sad song resonating hollowly through the trees. For the first time in his life the urge to dance did not surge to the surface, but instead an urge arose to see what could make such a sorrowful sound. His ears remained pricked and alert as he wound his way through the forest, his body growing heavy as the darkness of the song weighed upon him. He finally came to a stop before a formidable formation of stone. He was amazed and somewhat disturbed to find that the song was coming from within those rocks. Curiosity drove him forward as his hooves skidded and slipped over the uneven surface, his nerves finally soothed upon seeing what looked to be a cave like entrance.
The princess had been too distracted watching the enticing ocean waves to notice the brightly colored stallion making his way into her tower. She was alerted only by a gasp of surprise which had her whirling about fearfully to catch a glimpse of the intruder. For a moment her surprise was replaced by a flicker of hope as she thought that her prince had finally come to rescue her. This hope was snuffed out as she found herself looking upon what could only be described as a gypsy. Though she had never laid eyes upon one, her tutors had told her the many stories about how they had taken to tormenting the kingdom rather than becoming useful members of the herd. Poising herself for the worst she stared back at him through what she thought were hardened blue eyes.
The last thing that Emilian had expected to find hidden behind the jagged rocks was an alluring mare. He had thought that perhaps he would find a strange bird of some sort, or something stranger yet, but not this. He was unable to mask his shock and could only stare as the frightened mare turned to face him. He had heard many tales about a princess being trapped in a tower but he never thought that the stories were anything more than elaborate fiction. The reality of the situation greatly disturbed him but, bowing his head and lifting his right foreleg he issued her the traditional gypsy greeting, at a loss for any other action.
Two completely different cultures collided that night, and beneath the rays of the full moon and to the rhythm of the ocean waves a bond had begun to forge. Both, at first, had preconceived notions about the other but those barriers were soon broken down and the truth was revealed. The princess had just begun to trust in the gypsy when Inky moved a bit too quickly and caused the pearl to roll loudly within the glass orb. His interest in the sound didn’t alert her to any suspicious behavior and, with the decision to trust in him firmly in place, she told him of how she came to own such a precious gift. She even prompted her eight armed friend to pull the pearl from its hiding place so Emilian may get a better look.
When Emilian was young the elders of his clan would gather and tell stories about a mystical pearl that had once belonged to them, a pearl that provided the clan with wealth, health, and love. The time when the pearl had been possessed by his clan had been the brightest moment in their history. Alas, it had been stolen from them long before his birth by one of royal blood. The specifics were never mentioned, just that the treasure had been taken from them by one of the crown. When he was old enough the elders asked him if he may venture out in an attempt to retrieve the pearl, for they had found their champion, the one who differed from all the rest. Thinking it a fool’s errand he accepted halfheartedly, thinking of it more as a vacation than anything else. But now, as his eyes lingered on the smooth white surface peeking out from under a green tentacle he knew the stories to be true. The small round object was calling to him; he knew it to be the pearl of legend. It was at that moment he realized what he would have to do, he needed to con the mare he had just become friends with.
Nikolai watched night after night as the stranger would sneak into the tower of his future mate. At first he was furious, but upon catching a glimpse of the stallion he began to worry. It was obvious that this interloper was one of the gypsies plaguing the kingdoms. Though he believed in giving everyone the chance to prove themselves he couldn’t help but to worry about the fate of Molokai. She was naïve and susceptible to being tricked, something he knew gypsies to take advantage of. Sounds of her delighted laughter and the ceasing of her sorrowful song only served to exacerbate the issue. Not only was she possibly in physical danger, but she was also in danger of falling in love. Jealousy was a new emotion for the just prince, but the very notion of losing her spurred him into action.
Like the gypsy Nikolai began climbing to her tower, his determination keeping him from being as clumsy as the other stallion. Like the heroes in tales of old he entered her dim habitation, straightening himself up and looking more handsome than ever. Everything was going marvelously until she turned with a smile that obviously was meant for another. The smile did not leave her face but it turned from one of excitement to one of confusion. Opening his mouth he attempted to force a cohesive sentence out but only managed a few stuttering words before clearing his throat and cursing his hastiness.
Molokai knew it to be him the moment she set eyes upon his charming and sweet face. Only moments ago she had been dreaming of when Emilian would come quietly through the entrance, and now she was looking at the prince she had fantasized about since her foalhood. Her heart danced in her chest as she was finally able to put a face to the name. Even as he stuttered to speak she did not find herself disappointed, he had been everything she had imagined. Her excitement ebbed only a small amount when the sound of Emilian’s voice echoed within her mind. For the first time she was torn, between the stallion she had dreamed of and a newcomer she had only recently met. Flashing a warm smile and displaying the new confidence she had gained while speaking with the gypsy she greeted her prince just as she visualized she would.
Once the initial moment of introduction was through Nikolai found himself gaining the confidence he had always lacked. Molokai was everything he had thought she would be, and he was finally able to see that for himself. Thoughts of the gypsy were erased from his mind as he spent much of the day in the company of the princess, stuttering only occasionally as he spoke gently to her. When at first he had seen the strange stallion creeping into her tower he felt himself beginning to lose hope, but now a warm feeling began replacing it. Perhaps he would not lose her to the stallion that lurked around at night.
Nikolai was the sun and Emilian was the moon, one visiting her during the day and one visiting her during the night. Molokai’s loneliness had begun to vanish when Emilian had come to see her, but now that both were there it had all but disintegrated. Emilian would woo her with smooth words, stories of far off places, and exceptional gifts of the likes she had never seen. Nikolai would charm her without trying, he was a genuinely good soul, and somewhat of a rarity she had once been told. Her heart had never been filled with as much joy as it had in the days with her prince and her gypsy.
Alas, as history dictates, moments of peace are always disrupted with moments of sorrow. One night as Molokai sat listening to the story of an old gypsy trader and a beautiful young mare she slipped off into a deep sleep. Emilian, who had given her an herb to knock her out, went to her glass treasure box, his only obstacle being Inky. Angry yellow eyes peered up at him from within the pool of water where the octopus resided, guarding his charge. Emilian had been trained to keep his personal emotions from affecting how he did his job. Glaring back at the small creature that the princess loved so much he slammed his hoof into the water, causing the octopus to spook and slice through the water followed by a cloud of darkness. Dunking his head into the water he pulled the glass orb out, before making a hasty retreat from the tower.
Molokai awoke late the next morning to the tender nudges of Nikolai, a look of concern evident upon his countenance. Smiling up at him she brought herself to her feet and nuzzled him briefly, but was caught off guard as he stood as firm as a boulder. His eyes were planted on something across the musty space and as she followed his gaze a sense of panic filled her breast. Inky was resting forlornly in his pool, one damaged tentacle reached pathetically outward as though searching for something. Molokai’s first concern was her injured friend, but after tending to him she noticed that her pearl was gone. Nikolai allowed her to brace herself against his strong chest as she cried, not for the loss of a material item but instead for the betrayal she knew to be true. Nikolai couldn’t even lie; he was not the culprit, which left Emilian as the only viable suspect. She didn’t realize how much she had loved him until that very moment, for despite everything, she knew if he were to come back she would forgive him of it all.
Nikolai hated seeing his beloved in such a state, and he knew it was the gypsy who had caused it. He figured that with him around the stallion would be inclined to leave the princess alone, but when Molokai spoke so highly of him he decided to let it be. The prince was by no means vengeful, but a sticky black feeling toward Emilian had formed within his breast. Whatever the case, it was now his duty to care for Molokai, as he had always intended.
Something began to weigh heavily on the mind of the prince as he thought on the bleak situation. Why the pearl? He had once heard a story from his family about how it had brought them luck, and about how it may have been stolen from the gypsies, but it had never been anything but a folktale. He told the princess of his suspicions later on, even though he knew it could sway her feelings. Nikolai was an honest stallion, and he would hide nothing from Molokai.
Emilian had returned to his clan, shouts of victory and praise following him as he went. His natural pride swelled as he watched his family demonstrate a happiness that had been long since forgotten among them. But as soon as he handed the pearl off to one of the elders a deep pit opened within his chest, one so dark it nearly brought him to the ground. Confused he looked to the grandmother for help. She smiled sorrowfully and shook her head explaining that the pearl brought love as well as wealth, and it revealed in Emilian something he never thought would be possible. He had fallen in love with Molokai, but he had lied to her. He had pretended to woo her just to get close enough to the pearl in order to steal it, but it seemed now that it was less pretend than he initially thought. Grandmother told him it was now his duty to return to the princess, and with apprehensive determination he made his way slowly back to the tower. |
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Posted: Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:51 pm
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Posted: Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:52 pm
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Posted: Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:53 pm
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Posted: Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:54 pm
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Posted: Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:56 pm
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Posted: Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:56 pm
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Posted: Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:57 pm
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Posted: Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:58 pm
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Posted: Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:59 pm
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Posted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 12:00 am
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Posted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 12:01 am
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