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 Posted: Mon Apr 05, 2010 6:21 pm
the tidewalkers
Stand in the shallows of the incoming tide and feel the cool water come up around sore hooves; feel the salt wind blowing in and hear the strange wild cries of the seabirds. Your day has been difficult and for the past fifty you have covered the eight hundred miles from one end of the swamp to the other and back again--over a month of hard travel to return here to your inhospitable home. When the sun sets low over the vast water you will feel your exhaustion leaching away from aching bones, and when darkness falls the stars above are blotted out by not a single tree. Glowing streaks rise and fall in your footprints in your sand, the fireflies of the coastline: even here the Motherfather has not neglected to leave her lights.
The clusters of ancient mangroves scattered across the saltmarsh are your shelter; the vibrant fish and strange plants are your food. With your tribemates you have scraped hollows in the inland stone to catch the rain; with your tribemates you have scouted for springs; under the watchful eye of your matriarch the water is rationed, just enough to survive.
Yet you do not suffer here, for all your hard life. Tales told here are sweeter; songs stronger, dances longer, tears more poignant and joy more fierce.
Life on the fringes is life heightened.
who we are
At the southernmost fringes of Matope, perhaps fifteen days' travel from Ghostthistle's mound, the tangled mangroves of the swamp give way to flat, desolate salt marshes, and to stretches of sandy beach. While this is a place rich with life, it is a place that challenges the typical Kimeti: notions of normal and correct are strained or abandoned, and resources are scanty. Only the most resourceful, the strongest, the most clever survive here. A Kimeti's life on the coast is difficult, and often short.
The Tidewalkers would have it no other way.
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Posted: Mon Apr 05, 2010 6:22 pm
the matriarch and her vision
Bitterleaf, matriarch of the Tidewalkers tribe, has long had a craving, a lust to surround herself in all her rockhard, teeth-gritted persistence with those of a similar mind. From one end of the swamp to the other she wandered with her son Jasper, making and breaking a string of colts and leaving them behind her when they failed to satisfy her strange wanting.
When she and Jasper broke through the final southern treeline to the vast sweep of the sandy beach and the salt marsh, a peace came over Bitterleaf that she had sought her entire life: a peace borne of the promise of conflict. Here in this forbidding place she would gather up likeminded Kimeti and here they would carve out a rough and tumble life, constantly challenged by the elements. When the day came that her wiry body could no longer tolerate the conditions here, her tribesmates would continue her vision of a stronger, more powerful Kimeti. A better Kimeti, living harder lives.
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Posted: Mon Apr 05, 2010 6:24 pm
patrols
The plan at the moment, which Bitterleaf has loosely determined, is to arrange formal patrols from the southernmost to northernmost points of the swamp and back again, scooping up likeminded Kimeti on the way to bring them back for her tribe here. Each of these journeys takes forty days or more (up to fifty is considered a success, especially in bad weather), covering a devastatingly challenging fifteen to forty miles or more a day--considerable, given the Swamp's natural barriers to swift travel. The pilgrimages guarantee not only membership, but worthiness. Complaining is not tolerated, and while a Kimeti can leave the march at any time, he forfeits, permanently, his place among the sands. Life on the coast is too hard for one who cannot finish the patrol.
Bitterleaf, with a frank honesty that is somewhat alien to her manipulative nature, is upfront about what life with the Tidewalkers provides: hardship, brutal living, hurt... but freedom that most Kimeti can only dream of, and an intensity of life that appeals to those who tire of indolent ease and boring security. The doe lures in strangers with sheer charisma: a fascinating figure who speaks elegantly of the promises of a hard life.
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Posted: Mon Apr 05, 2010 6:26 pm
hierarchy
A formal hierarchy has no place in the Tidewalkers' philosophy. Bitterleaf is at the top of the chain with Jasper her second-in-command (at the moment), and pecking order beneath is determined by force of will or, where necessary, mere force. Water is the only rationed resource, as food and even shelter (in the form of the clumps of mangroves scattered along the coast) is plentiful here, and water is rationed fairly and evenly under Bitterleaf's eye, with even the matriarch taking no more than is needed (and sometimes less). During the rainy season the iron grip over freshwater is relaxed, and at any time a scouting party of Kimeti may venture into the treeline for springs and fresh brooks that penetrate the salty marshes untainted. Slowly, over time, this network of discovered freshwater may eliminate the need for water rationing entirely. The only challenge to life then will be the unnatural habitat and the strange and vicious sea creatures, and the urge to strike out swimming further and further into the untamed waters: rich challenges which the Tidewalkers look forward to with pleasure.
While breeding is permitted with non tribemembers (usually during patrol), it is not encouraged, while breeding within the group is smiled upon as a furtherance of superior genes.
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Posted: Mon Apr 05, 2010 6:28 pm
joining
Is your Kimeti up for the life of a Tidewalker? Read on to submit to Bitterleaf's judgment.
To apply for a spot in the Tidewalkers, simply complete the form and prompt below and post in-thread. If accepted I will propose a brief (or not brief!) RP at the coast with Bitterleaf and/or Jasper.
Tidewalker positions are only open for filly/colt stage and older. Fillies and colts will have to provide particularly compelling evidence of worthiness. Foals may later be born into the Tidewalkers environment.
[quote]
[b]Kimeti name:[/b]
[b]Stage/gender:[/b]
[b]Write a recollection of a night or several on your Kimeti's first patrol. This may take place at any point in the patrol but should reflect the strain placed on his/her abilities and how s/he overcomes difficulties:[/b]
[/quote]
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Posted: Mon Apr 05, 2010 6:29 pm
*snips ribbon*
Some of my distance/travel math is a bit fuzzy >_> I'll fix it.
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Posted: Mon Apr 05, 2010 6:36 pm
Quote: Kimeti name: Suspended-in-TwilightStage/gender: Buck Write a recollection of a night or several on your Kimeti's first patrol. This may take place at any point in the patrol but should reflect the strain placed on his/her abilities and how s/he overcomes difficulties: Cold. Wet. Hungry. Not thirsty though. The heavy rain was such that all he needed was to merely lift his head and open his mouth to drink. The water drained into his eyes, his nose, his ears. It soaked his fur until his hide twiched in the cold. But he continued on. The mud stained his hooves and dragged his pace, but he continued on. The storm would last for hours, maybe days, and he knew that. But he continued on. He would complete his patrol. He would find more kimeti to join the Tidewalkers with him. He would not be beat. Not even by the Motherfather.
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Posted: Mon Apr 05, 2010 6:40 pm
The Adorable Panda Quote: Kimeti name: Suspended-in-TwilightStage/gender: Buck Write a recollection of a night or several on your Kimeti's first patrol. This may take place at any point in the patrol but should reflect the strain placed on his/her abilities and how s/he overcomes difficulties: Cold. Wet. Hungry. Not thirsty though. The heavy rain was such that all he needed was to merely lift his head and open his mouth to drink. The water drained into his eyes, his nose, his ears. It soaked his fur until his hide twiched in the cold. But he continued on. The mud stained his hooves and dragged his pace, but he continued on. The storm would last for hours, maybe days, and he knew that. But he continued on. He would complete his patrol. He would find more kimeti to join the Tidewalkers with him. He would not be beat. Not even by the Motherfather. Sexy! Very sexy. We should RP. *sage nodding* We could RP during or before a patrol if you like, or RP just after one at the coast.... eh?
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Posted: Mon Apr 05, 2010 6:45 pm
possibly before the patrol.
he'd be all eager I WILL PREVAIL
and yeah xD
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Posted: Mon Apr 05, 2010 6:46 pm
The Adorable Panda possibly before the patrol. he'd be all eager I WILL PREVAIL and yeah xD Could I prevail upon you to start? :O
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Posted: Mon Apr 05, 2010 6:48 pm
here? or in the gen. rp forum? xD
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Posted: Mon Apr 05, 2010 6:52 pm
The Adorable Panda here? or in the gen. rp forum? xD Whoops soz XD Gen RP
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Posted: Mon Apr 05, 2010 7:08 pm
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Posted: Sun Apr 11, 2010 9:52 pm
Quote: Kimeti name: Crest Stage/gender: Buck Write a recollection of a night day or several on your Kimeti's first patrol. This may take place at any point in the patrol but should reflect the strain placed on his/her abilities and how s/he overcomes difficulties: Days and days had gone by, weather torn and exhausted. He could not remember the last time he ate as he pressed on closer to his home. He could only wonder how far he had left to travel. His feet were hard from miles and miles, legs sore from the terrain. He could not remember the last time he ate as he pressed on closer to his home. He was so hot without the canopy of vines and foliage to protect him from the vast rays of the sun. He could pass out right now and give it all back but the sound of the crash of the waves hitting the shore echoed in his mind. His dream. His soul. Crest would not falter. He could not falter. His goal and his mission had been done. All that was left was the journey back. He would return at all costs. He would hear the sound of his heart beat once more against the shore.
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Posted: Fri Apr 23, 2010 11:50 pm
Quote: Kimeti name: Crestfallen Stage/gender: Doe Write a recollection of a night or several on your Kimeti's first patrol. This may take place at any point in the patrol but should reflect the strain placed on his/her abilities and how s/he overcomes difficulties: A scar-stained doe rose her weary head from a puddle too bitter to drink. She vaguely recalled a braying clan, pools of fresh water and heavy shade before dragging her tongue across a salty snout. The marsh was behind her now, all but forgotten and far too simple. She expected to want out here, amongst the dregs - if anything it made her proud. Sleep made the doe urgent, and despite her body's desire to lie in the cool mud and wait, she pressed on. It was dark. It was the only sensible thing to do. She had lost track of the moon in this forbidden place, but fear did not bite... only a curious wonder. That and a stomach ache. Must have been the nettles. No matter. A vague longing for a kinship she had never known overpowered the stinging in her belly. There were brothers who used to call her Little, sometimes she was Drag Along. The wind kicked high at her back, it's call low and feral. It had been forty sun-downs since her journey began, and by the count of her steps, ten more to follow. What would they call her now?
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