Breedings must have plots, preferrably before. They don't have to be mates for life or happy endings, after all, even damaging plots are fun!
Table of Contents
XXXXXPage One: You Are Here XXXXXXXXXXTable of Contents XXXXXXXXXXFeatured Herla and Log XXXXXXXXXXPlots XXXXXXXXXXCurrent Quest XXXXXXXXXXChanda XXXXXXXXXXTinker XXXXXPage Two XXXXXXXXXXNike & Atlas XXXXXXXXXXMordred XXXXXXXXXXMoe XXXXXXXXXXBian & Elios XXXXXXXXXXElias & Rook XXXXXXXXXXCorax XXXXXPage Three XXXXXXXXXXReth XXXXXXXXXXGasteau & Phii XXXXXXXXXXPerry ... ... ... XXXXXPage Five XXXXXXXXXXResources
Posted: Sun Jun 13, 2010 10:10 pm
Featured Herla of the Week! ---Currently Preoccupied, try again later!---
Roleplay Logs:
tricksterthought Crew
Beloved Aggressor
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tricksterthought Crew
Beloved Aggressor
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Posted: Sun Jun 13, 2010 10:44 pm
Plots!
After all, that's the Important thing, Right
Posted: Mon Jun 14, 2010 4:57 pm
Current Concept Quest
Are you a newbie: No Name: Latranis Gender: female Temperament: Happy Trickster Masculine or Feminine: Masculine Type of Herla (Forest, Delta, Mountain or Mutant): Mountain Color & Basic Markings: markings and coloration of a coyote with more red tones Detailed Markings: But more reds Tail: fluffy coyote's tail, about twice the length of a normal mountain herla's tail Horns (if any): none Wings (if any): none Extra Edits: Erect canine ears, paws on the forefeet Facial Expression:Eyes, but blue with lovely eyelashes expression Accessories: A quartz crystal point on a black cord necklace, thick silver band around left wrist References (if necessary): Colors/Patterns RefColors refColors Ref/ Muzzle and Ears Ref Pattern Ref Eyeshape/Muzzle ref Colors/Markings Ref Miscellaneous: Anything I forgot or you wanna add? WIP? If so, one or two?: nah
Lanister is an easy going hind, with a relaxed posture. Most times she seems as if she hardly cares about the social going ons around her, more content to keep to herself and daydream. Her most often expression worn is what she might think of as a thoughtful one, though most simply think she looks angry. Still, this hind is friendly over all, polite an reserved at first glance. She will hold conversation with just about anyone when the mood strikes her, but when she finds something or someone boring she will likely find the quickest route out of that interaction. She has a strange love for confrontation, staying as much out of it as she can, but yet when it comes to her directly, she will take part with quite the coyote smile. When pushed to her limits, the hind has a habit of flying off the handle, so to speak. She tends to get violent at these points, often regretting what she's done after. She never goes so far as to wound another, but she will often fell terrible afterwords.
She is not terribly large of build, and is actually on the small side for a Mountain herla--ranging about the size of the average male forest herla. Her form is lightly builit, and her voice rough, but feminine.
Stats
Name: Lanister Age: Adult Gender: Female Orientation: bisexual Mate: None Family: -none- Nicknames: Lannie, Ears Personality: Lanister is a tricky individual with two sides to her. She adores all animals, even those that most would consider dangerous, but is also smart in her ways of approaching them and has a healthy respect for anything that could likely hurt her. Around herla she does not know, she can be rather closed off, coming off as gruff and condescending. She always seems to know more than she's letting on. Around herla she likes, she tends to be almost childish in her happy, bouncy excitement, and this can lead to quite a surprise when she is angered. Her tendency to never reveal much about herself can leave her friends startled when she is angry, and the hind pulls no shots with her curses and southern-belle mean-with-a-smile comments. She is very picky about the herla she likes, and though even she can't understand whatever criteria she goes by, some herla she seems to dislike for no reason at all, while others she adores for much the same reasoning. Shallow herla annoy her to no end, and she will likely have much fun in messing up their perfect image, in whatever sneaky ways she can. Anyone with an ego might as well be dangling a toy in front of her face, so they can expect her to find some way or another to deflate it. Still, she'll be polite to anyone, and at times--when she doesn't like you--you might not even realize you've been insulted. She has a rather bad habit of trying to teach people lessons, but at the same time, hates to be put into other people's business. She does her best not to judge, standing by the old mantra that if what you're doing isn't hurting anyone else, then who cares? Regardless, she can be a bit of a white knight, and has a tendency to watch out for the bullied misfits. Always, she is protective over the ones she loves, tending to have an almost mother-hen attitude. She has a strange sense of humor, with a great love for slapstick, wordplay and poking fun at anyone she considers too up tight.
When she loses her cool, however, she can be quite a different person. Malicious and toothy, she will pull no punches in telling you exactly what she thinks. She is far from the type to ever strike first, preferring to follow whatever tone is set, but if struck, the hind will come at the aggressor in full force. It takes little to annoy her, but a substantial amount to lose her cool. By the end of it, she'll likely pick herself up, brush herself off, and make off with her tail in the air.
Relationships
Mordred-You're a funny thing, but we have known each other for so long, that I adore you anyway. You're like a little brother to me. It's funny to see you all grown up and so damned stuffy. If anyone ever hurts you, I'll skin them alive <3
History
Lanister grew up in the hartlands, with a bit of tumultuous childhood. First born with no father, the little hind was the only child of her mother. When her mother found love, it was far from the stable, or even very loving, kind. As a yearling, little Lanister decided to strike out on her own, mistakenly thinking that the big bad world couldn't be nearly as big or as bad as everyone had made it out to be. It was. And it was worse. The little pup became rather clever at evading predators, hiding and finding her own sources of food. Being born as an omnivorous herla left her with a heavy need for protein, and the little hind slowly learned to hunt small game. It was not long after she learned to hunt, and had become proficient at it that she stumbled upon another little misfit like herself, another Barely-A-Yearling babe by the name of Mordred. Being a tad older than he, she took to taking care of the Carnivorous babe, and the two grew along side each other. The older they got, the more Lanister wanted to go out, and explore the hartlands, the more Mordred wanted to stay atop his mountain. It was a bittersweet parting, and Lanister has always kept an eye out, hoping to catch a glance of little Mormor out on the hartland meadows. Once she left the shelter of the mountain, Lanister took to exploring every bit of land she could get to, at her own leisurely pace. She observed many animals around the hartlands, learning as much as she could about them. Her travels have now brought her back to the midland Hartlands, where she has nestled herself near the base of the Iceland Mountains.
tricksterthought Crew
Beloved Aggressor
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tricksterthought Crew
Beloved Aggressor
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Posted: Mon Jun 14, 2010 5:01 pm
Chanda
Chanda is a rather large hind, well muscled and thickly built. Her voice has a deeper tone than one might expect, hardly delicate or lady-like. She is almost the polar opposite to her sister, Lumi. More times than not, Chanda often wears a gruff expression, often getting lost in her older adventures and lost friends. Chanda was born the eldest in her family of six, mother, father, Sister Lumi, and the youngest twins. When Chanda was a yearling, her father was Chosen to lead a small band of Outriders to explore the Dead City. Her mother held on to hope, but as the months dragged on, Chanda could see the wear in her mother. Slowly, her mother began to degrade, not taking care of the children, not taking care of herself. Without her mate, the hind was surely dieing. It was then that Chanda, little more than a yearling, set out to find her father. Somehow, she succeeded, but not two weeks after, their band was attacked, and her father fell. For the remainder of the tour, Chanda was the band's little mascot. They could spare no one to take her home, and would not allow such a little thing to make such a journey on her own. At least, those were the reasons they gave. The band spoiled the little yearling, and where she lost one father, she gained fifteen fathers and brothers that will forever be called family. By the end of their tour, Chanda was a young hind, and ready to go home. There were no tears when the close knit family parted, they were warriors, soldiers. They were too strong to cry. The little band that became her family will always have a special place in her heart. They taught her everything she knows. Sadly, when the young hind finally made it back home, there was no-one there to greet her. Sickness had swept through the herd, stealing away what little true family Chanda had left. It was then that the hind began her adventure to the hartlands, broken, and without a single soul to call family. Imagine her surprise when she stumbled upon a familiar old face, none but her Sister, Lumi, with three fawns in tow.
**Please note that this backstory was Approved by Kaiven, I would not be using it otherwise**
Now: Chanda loves her sister, but the two clash completely. Lumi remained the wonderful, motherly yearling that she had always been, hardened by the loss of her family but hopeful, and as time passed, happy. Chanda on the other hand came back almost a completely different hind. Ornery and blunt, she knows that she and her sister won't ever get along like they used to. After all, when Chanda left to find their father, who was left to take care of the rest but Lumi? Rather often, the hind will look back, and regret leaving her family to find her father. It had been a useless trip to begin with, fated to fail with her father's death. Still, Lumi has moved on and is happy, and now Chanda is the one left alone. She finds it hard to be around her sister, half for fear that she'll anger her again, and push her further away, half because Lumi's found her happiness. Lumi has a family now. Since Chanda entered the hartlands, she can't help but look at the happier harts and hinds, and pine for the days in the Dead City. There, she belonged, had friends, had a family. Now, Chanda can't help but feel alone... With the birth of Chanda's son came a strange new time for Chanda. Now she has a doting son, who even grown, seems to hate leaving her alone for too long. things have settled however, and she is much back to her old self. That lonliness however... it is mostly a thing of the past.
Stats
Name: Chanda Age: Adult (by Human relation, probably about 35) Gender: Female Orientation:Masculine-Chanda admires strength, will and dignity. Anyone who could measure up to her battalion buddies would likely steal her heart, regardless of whether they were male or female. Mate: None Family: Mother -deceased npc- Father -deceased npc Sister-Lumi Twin Sisters-deceased npcs Niece-Omnita Niece-Snow Miser Niece-Chalice Son-Reth
Nicknames: Snow Bird-The nickname given to her by her father, and carried into her young adulthood by the battalion. Only Lumi and any surviving members of the battalion would know this nickname, and only they would be able to use it without getting something torn off.
Personality: Chanda is a gruff woman, particular in her ways. She is almost always pristinely neat, coat and armor cleaned to military perfection. The hind comes off as rather blunt, and gruff, rough and tumble in almost every aspect of the phrase. Chanda tends to be firm in her confidence in herself, and there are very few times when she has ever doubted herself. Personally, the Hind finds that almost everyone in the Hartlands talks entirely too much, when they should be doing something. She does, however, share her sister's regal stature and poise, even if she is a fair bit larger. If one were to observe her without speaking to her, they might see the confidence in her steps, and the glide to her movements as beauty. If one were to talk to her without seeing her, they might think the hart a gruff and marred thing. She is very slow to open up to new people, oddly more comfortable with less reputable characters, especially if they happen to remind her of her old friends in the battalion. Children generally make her nervous, only because she finds them so tiny in relation to her largeness, so frail and wonderful that they should be cherished and protected. Some part of her watches the fawns play, and wishes she might have one of her own someday, but she highly doubts that will ever happen. Chanda has more or less resigned herself to being alone, but that doesn't stop her from keeping an eye out, wishing, hoping that she might one day spot a familiar face that she first met in the Dead City.
Relationships
Crowley- >[ Go hop off a cliff. Calix- >[ You broke my Niece's heart, and if I ever see you again, I'll break your face for it. Sarla- ...I like you. You've got spunk. Draven- There is something about you that frightens me, and I cannot put my hoof on it. Snow-You remind me so much of your mother, I wish I would have been around more to see you grow. Chalice-A wonderful young hind, and absolutely beautiful. Omnita- How in the Hell are you Lumi's child? Your demeanor reminds me of old friends, even if you don't seem to enjoy my company much. Lumi- There are so many things I want to tell you, but never seem to be able to. I'm sorry for leaving you and the family when I was younger. I'm sorry you had to carry the burden that I should have carried. I thought you were dead, and now that I find out you aren't, I realize that I don't know you anymore... We've missed so much time when we should have been together, growing as sisters, but now I'm a completely different hind, and so are you... I don't want to ruin your life, or tell you how to run it, or push you away any more than I already have, but I don't know what to do, or how to act... I'm supposed to be your big sister, and I can't help but feel like I failed you, mother, and the twins in the worst way possible. Heret- I don't know you very well, but you've made Lumi happier than anything else on the face of the earth, and I love you for that. Thank you so much for taking care of my baby sister, and for giving her such happiness. Know that if you ever have need, I'm there. You were there for Lumi when I wasn't, and I will always owe you for that. Reth-You are everything good in me, everything good in the world, pulled out and given as the greatest gift I could have ever gotten. Even if you are a bit of a dainty idiot who has no idea how to defend himself. If anyone ever hurts you I will kill them, my beloved little son.
History
The Dead City This entry was originally a winning entry into the Pokemon event Rp Contest. The use of the dead city in this story was pre-approved by Kaiven before the story was written.
CoyoteSparrow
Somewhere in the darkness, a pale little pelt shone as a yearling lifted her face t o the night. The messy little mop of hair near obscured her vision as blue eyes soaked in the shadowed city before her. Tiny horns, little cherry-wood branches budded just between her ears, and even at her young age they had begun to reach out to the world. Her ears pressed back, a gesture tinged with annoyance and, perhaps, fear. But who could blame her? Her icy blue eyes sized up the dead city. Mountains of rubble made the yearling seem more insignificant by the second, but she refused to be disheartened. The days she had traveled had quickly turned to weeks. She had forged the bogs, and eluded the talons. The little form shivered with the thought of those monsters. Huge, two legged things covered in scaly armor. Claws sharper than the deadliest blade. Teeth to easily rip one to shreds. True, she had once been a pretty little thing, but the journey left its mark on her. The pleasant roundness to her features had become angular in her desperate weeks. Hooves had become dull, and sharp to the touch. Legs had become hardened, and tuned to a hair trigger. Her instincts, and her Guardian had kept her alive, both guiding and nudging her along the proper paths. And now, she had made her way, past the deep bogs, through the dark nights, to this kingdom of ruin. And even now, her journey was not done yet. The yearling lifted her head high, a challenge to the mountains of rubble and whatever hid within them. She had made it this far. There would be no turning back. No failures. She would bring her father back, or be damned trying. I promise Momma. I'll bring Poppa back, and then you'll be happy again! Things will be fine!
As the eldest of their children, it was her duty. Mother would take care of Lumi and the twins, but Chanda, she had to find their father. No good child could sit, and watch her mother waste away. So, when Poppa had been called to their battalion to patrol the Dead City, and for weeks did not return, the yearling set out. Her entire journey had followed, with laughter in her ears to goad her on. It was her father's laughter. It was her mother's laughter. It was the laughter of her sisters. It was something she so dearly wanted to hear again. Mother might have broken her heart the day that Poppa left, but she broke the hearts of her children the day she gave up. Chanda knew that fact. She was old enough to know that her mother should have carried on. She should have kept going for her children. A slight heat rose in her breast, an anger at her Mother, but the yearling knew better. As much as she would have liked, she could not hold this against her mother. Who could? In a display of defiance she took her first step onto the cold and broken ground. It bore no grass, no earth, only rubble, rocks and dust. That one step had jolted a coldness through her. Something long dead and larger than even the city had retreated here. It sill lived and breathed, something so cold, so frightening. It was hate. It was fear. It was the cold embrace of darkness. Death Lives here.. Watch your feet carefully, Chanda..This place is more dangerous than you could ever believe. The guardian’s voice shook with fear, she should turn back. She was hardly more than a fawn! Another step. Something in the yearling would not be wavered. Her father was there. Her Poppa. Her mother was there, her heart trailing behind her father’s strong steps. Perhaps it was only an attempt to fool herself out of fear, but the yearling fancied herself a knight. She would brave the dragons and the shadows to rescue what she loved. Yes, that was what she was. She would scream her challenge to the mountains of rubble, to the talons that dared cross her path! ..Well, perhaps not literally. Even the yearling knew that wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do. Her ears thrust forward, each step becoming more sure than the last. Her head raised high and proud. She was the daughter of Brachal, captain of the outriders. She was his eldest, his heir, and she would carry his name with a pride that could not be rivaled. Her spirit was high, and her feet light. She would find her father, and she would bring him home.
Days wore on as Chanda made her way through the Dead City. She had come so close, he had to be here… But there was very little grass to be found in the cold rubble, and what waters it held stunk of stagnation and rotting. As her search wore on, her head had begun to droop, and her hooves began to drag. She was just so tired.. So lost. Mountains of rubble. Mountains, and mountains of rubble. Each was as indistinguishable as the last. Dust hung heavily in the air, clouding her nose and biting at her eyes as the wind scored the broken and eroding ground. That selfish and harsh wind dusted away her tracks, but perhaps was also a blessing. The dust had clouded her coat, painting the pristine white a uniform, and camouflaging gray. It took her sent and dashed it to the far reaches of the earth. Little blessings that the yearling would not recognize until age and hindsight brought them to attention. She licked her lips, the mud clotting over her tongue, and hardly easing the chapped skin. If she would have tried to make a sound, the yearling might have found her throat caked too. Parched and famished, she dredged on in a daze, knotted and moppy hair clotting around her eyes. But what was that there? Her head shot up, blue eyes focusing on the green. Was it food? Had she finally found something to put in her empty and shriveling belly? Her little heart leaped and a smile came to her cracking lips. Food! Oh the joy of the thought! …But as the beautiful green gems flickered, recognition chilled the yearling to her bones. Eyes. Eyes as large as her father’s tracks. A big, round, sparking green that so keenly focused on her. It was almost funny. How odd that the talon would be regarding her with the same luster as she had just a moment earlier. Food. Oh, the joy of the thought. As her eyes broke away from contact, the two bolted in an almost scripted unison. The staccato of her hooves, and the bass of his feet a percussive symphony that echoed off the cold rubble walls. Her heart had leaped ahead of her by miles. Eyes flung open wide with fear. Even as she could feel the horrible ache of her muscles, she could hear the heavy sound of those footsteps. The yearling darted, her movements a toddler’s pen in the dust. She leaped over the obstacles in her way with a dancer’s dexterity. Hooves skidding over the rubble, she turned and twisted, pushing her burning little legs to the limit. The journey here had made them hard, more durable than she had ever imagined they could be, but now they were put to the test. The yearling slid to a halt. Walls. Walls that had yet to crumble. They reached high over her head, towering above her with their cold stares as if proclaiming themselves her executioners. She whipped around, sides heaving with her run, heart thundering in her ears as the talon closed. Panic swelled. Her flight had been cut off. It left one primal option, but something so against the nature of her kind.. Even now the talon had patience. He could pace himself, eat his fill of his prey’s panic, as well as its flesh. Oh, it would be a delightful meal. He stretched out his neck, screaming his victory to the sky and all who dare listen. Most importantly, he roared this yearling’s death. Such a foolish little creature…. What kind of a knight are you? Huh?! Somehow.. The words stemmed her panic. She was a knight, driven into the dragon’s cave, its firey breath at her heels. A deep breath steadied her, and the yearling lowered her head. One dive in, one fleeting chance had the knight to slay the dragon. He had to spear his lance deep into the creature’s heart. One deep breath, and the yearling charged.
“Over here!Over here!” The whole of the battalion had heard the echos of the chase, and the cry of the talon. There was another here! The scouts flocked ahead, racing to the source of the sound when another cry pierced the air, the cry of a young doe.
The crash had been stronger than she had expected, sending both the talon and the yearling tumbling in a knot of limbs and teeth. The road had made her hooves dull, but sharp. It had made her legs lean, but strong. It had taken so much out of her, but given so much in return, and now she had need to use it all.
The talon had paused the moment the young doe had charged, slightly startled. What the s**t was this? ..He might have had more thoughts on the subject, but as the little gray bullet slammed into his chest, there was very little else he could think about. Panic gripped him, and despite everything the reptilian predator found himself wanting to run away, rather than fight. A wound would do him no good. He might earn this one meal, but it wasn’t worth the price of his next meal, or the one after that, and so on and so fourth. When he had finally pulled away, he snarled at the insult of it all. What audacity in one so young! Didn’t she have respect for the proper order of things? He took a heavy, infuriated step toward the yearling. Oh yes. He would enjoy this now.
Chanda had been left in an exhausted heap, the wind torn from her lungs and bleeding wounds torn into her legs and chest. Her shaking little form regarded the talon with contempt, and to her surprise, he backed away. A burst of ego shone through for a brief moment before she realized his focus.. Something was now behind her, and whatever it was, it was scary enough to frighten off the talon. The young doe gave a dry sob. She was done now. Whatever loomed over her shoulder would be her doom. “…Chanda?!” The young doe picked her head up, disbelieving eyes turned as large and round as saucers. “..Poppa?” She studied the dusty face for a long moment, tracing the familiar features before lifting herself to her feet, and scurrying to the side of the wall as her little heart almost burst for joy. “Poppa! I found you!”
Posted: Mon Jun 21, 2010 8:39 pm
Agathangalos "Tinker" Rex
Tinker is a stuttering, nervous hart with a slender build and a fair, light voice that leaves it almost impossible to sound angry. He is an absolutely tiny thing, little more than half the size of a typical forest Hart. His small, dainty claws make him ideal for crafting. He uses his dexterous fingers to work raw materials into wonderful pieces--accessories, small sculptures, decorations. One of his biggest wishes is to make his way to bear country and learn everything about their crafting methods. When Roarke is in the hartlands, this little hart can usually be found somewhere around his stall, either pestering the old merchant with unending questions, or studying items to glean what methods were used to make them. Most of his own creations he trades to the merchant in exchange for new bits and pieces to make more, even more wonderful things. His work is the only thing he is truly confident and proud of--and is one of the only things he will readily defend.
Stats
Name: Agathangelos "Tinker" Rex Age: Adult Orientation: The little hart blushes rather brightly before claiming that he's married to his work. Social interactions fluster him, and in his mind, this makes Romantic relationships heart attack inducing. ((This herla is completely open to all plotting, and would likely fall for anyone who took the initiative to woo him--regardless of how healthy the relationship would be. He's a total romantic.)) Mate: none Family:
