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Post by CrazySparkles on Oct 24, 2009 0:04:47 GMT -5
In this thread I am looking for an experienced roleplayer of my writing caliber. I am not going to babysit someone who cannot contribute to the plot with interesting ideas of their own, rushes the plot, or who constantly responds with one sentence answers. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Name: Windrunner Sex: Female Age: 3 Breed: Andalusian Coat Color: Grey Eye Color: Blue Facial Markings: Black Star, Black Muzzle Leg Markings: 4 black socks Body Markings (if any): None Mane and Tail Color: Black Reference Pic (link): crazysparkles06.deviantart.com/art/Windrunner-78621715History: There is a full history in the description of the reference pic. Personality: Windrunner was a carefree foal that loved nothing more than bathing in the pride of her young parents. After being banned from her herd she became very introverted and depressed, and spends most of her time agonizing over the death of her mother. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The pool rippled softly with the sweet breath of her grass-stained lips. It had been nearly two days since she had braved the trip to the water hole, and stood under the harsh gazes of the fellow horses that shared with her the Andalusian slopes. She closed her crystalline eyes as she drank from the cool waters, the whispers of mares hurrying their children away stinging her ears. She had been the daughter of one of the highest ranking stallions on the area. Whenever their herd came to the small stream, they were always the first to drink, and everyone else was required to wait on the banks until they had had their fill. The other mares had looked at her with envy, both for her high status and incredibly becoming coloring. Now they just scorned her with sneers of disgust and snorts or disapproval. Windrunner could not even remember the last time she had spoken to another living, breathing being. Filled with sadness, the filly opened her eyes and caught the reflection of her own face in the ripples of the water. For a long moment she stared into her own eyes, eyes that before were so full of life. And then her glance wandered towards the center of her forehead where an unusual black star interrupted the cerene, white beauty of her face. She grimaced with pain at the source of her torment, and slammed her front hooves forcefully into the shallow water. Without even looking she spun from the creek with a quick twist of her hindquarters and galloped up the creekbed into the dead of night.
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Post by Caity the Brumby on Oct 24, 2009 2:32:56 GMT -5
OOC: I am terribly sorry if this sucks, having an off day posting wise but I really wanted to start playing here. Name: Tingara Sex: Male, stallion. Age: 3. Breed: Australian Brumby x Anglo-Arab. Coat Color: Pure black, absolutely no markings. Eye Color: Hazel brown. Facial Markings: Nil. Leg Markings: Nil. Body Markings (if any): Nil. Mane and Tail Color: Black (he's rather boring really). Reference Pic (link): Click -> Tingara (by Gaurdianax because I really need to update him)History: Just an average wild horse foal born to an average herd really. The only twist to his tale is that his mother died not long after giving birth to the black colt. By luck and chance a close friend of his mother's found Tingara and organized a nursing mare to take him in. Left his birth herd at two years of age and has been wandering all over ever since. Personality: Cheerful, arrogant, friendly, loyal, patient, calm, quick tempered and reckless are just a few of Tingara's traits. He is not one for large herds, having been somewhat of a loner for the past year of his life. He is inquisitive and curious, always full of questions when meeting someone new. Hates fighting but not one to back down when challenged. Played By: Caity.
As softly and silently as a shadow a dark shape skirted along the edges of a small stream. The stallion wandered aimlessly alongside the running water, stopping only to crop and the wiry strands of grass dotted on the bank. It was more from boredom than hunger that he ate.There was nothing about but himself, the stream and the stars in the night sky; a lonely existence to the young stallion.
For months now he had been wandering alone. Sure his wanderings had brought the adventure he craved but really what the black stallion kept telling himself was a lie. He really wanted most of all was another of his kind to talk to. It had been weeks since Tingara had come across another horse but to the young stallion if felt like years.
Lost in deep pondering about whether he remembered what his voice sounded like or not, Tingara almost missed the scent of a mare on the night's faint breeze. Instantly the stallion stood rigid, his arabesque head held high, ears pinned forwards and nostrils flaring. Silently he crept in the direction it was coming from, quivering with excitement.
The closer the black horse got, the more nervous he felt. What if whoever it was did not wish to speak to him? If that happened he'd never remember if he could talk or not, unless he spoke to himself of course but that was just crazy. Finally the filly came into view by the side of a small pool and if Tingara knew one thing, fillies did not appreciate being snuck up on.
"Don't be afraid, I mean you no harm stranger," he whinnied quietly from his cover before showing himself fully. Brown eyes regarded the mare curiously but there was no sign contempt. Tingara had never been one for the gossip of mares, and his birth herd had been far away for any stories about cursed young horses to reach them. |
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Post by CrazySparkles on Oct 24, 2009 14:58:38 GMT -5
OOC - It seems perfectly in order to me! ;D
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A foreign voice fell upon the filly's ears, sending a cool chill up her spine. Were there others speaking to one another in the briar? Had she mistakenly wandered upon land that was forbidden to her?
The Andalusian swung her head towards the source of the sound, her young, dark mane falling silently upon her shoulders. Her blue eyes strained to pierce the darkness, but could not discern the owner of the voice from the shadows of the tall, woodland trees, even though her ears detected a rustling of movement.
"Who's there?" she whispered hoarsely, her nostrils flaring. "What do you want of me?
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Post by Caity the Brumby on Oct 24, 2009 23:41:33 GMT -5
Nervously the black stallion awaited the filly’s reaction. He hardly breathed nor moved, it was as if his anticipation had frozen him to the spot. It was only when she spoke that Tingara moved. Of course he had been expecting an answer from her but it still made him jump all the same. The sound of another voice after days of silence was heavenly to the stallion’s ears, but he suspected it would not have sounded so sweet had it been another stallion speaking.
What the mare had said puzzled Tingara for a moment. He had thought he was in plain view but it occurred to him that his coat was as black as the surrounding night; he was not yet visible to her. ”My name is Tingara. I do not want anything of you but to maybe talk for a time. It has been a long time since I have had the pleasure of talking with another horse,” he answered softly, truthfully. Slowly he edged closer, making sure to step out into what little moonlight there was.
The Brumby watched the filly intently, ears and eyes trained to her. He whinnied softly, insisting that he meant her no harm. ”May I ask of you your name?” Tingara asked politely, bobbing his head in greeting. He outstretched his head towards her, wary that she might bolt at any moment.
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Post by CrazySparkles on Oct 27, 2009 16:11:30 GMT -5
Windrunner's black tipped ears flicked too and fro with uncertainty. Was this stallion for real? Did he really want to speak to her? The cursed one?
"I...I'm sorry," she stuttered, her voice quietly confused. "Tingara, do you not know me? Do you not know who I am?"
The gray mare threw her head, the forelock obscuring the black star on her forehead falling to the side of her face. Even in the dull moonlight, she was certain that he would be able to see the black diamond amongst the sharp contrast of her milky white brow. Her nostrils fluttered as she caught her breath in her throat. He would surely turn tail now.
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Post by steeljaw36 on Oct 28, 2009 22:53:55 GMT -5
See, now this one, I like!
Name:Fireborne (Aztec)
Sex: Stallion
Breed: Mustang
Age:7
Coat color: chestnut
Eye Colr: brown
Facial Markings: white blaze
Leg markings: none
Mane & tail color: white
History: Was born wild, had a rather unremarkable life with his herd, until when he was about 2 years old. His herd was attacked by humans one night during a long dry spell, and sometime during the fight, the grass caught fire, and being so dry it went up fast. Aztec had been trapped by the blaze, it burned him alive, however he somehow did not die from the fire, or his wounds afterward, though it was a near thing. He does not know if anyone survived, and he wanders, looking for them now.
Personality: A loner, and survivor, he has somewhat of a pessamistic attitude, and a slightly dark sense of humor, but has a good heart. Life has not been kind or easy to him, however.
Additional info: Multiple burn scars over his body (obviously from the fire)
Current Mate: none
It was always easier to travel the desert by night, something Fireborne had learned soon after he arrived in the ocean of sand. It was hot during the day, not nearly as bad as fire, but still uncomfortably so, the stallion mused as he travelled across the moonlit sands, drawn by the scent of water. Of course the night had it's own dangers, mainly scorpions and snakes, but those could be avoided, provided you stayed alert.
His auds perked as he closed in on the waterhole, there were voices. Again, not unusual, for many sought out and drank from any water source in the desert, and thier scents were that of a stallion and mare. Neither of which were threats to him.
He approached from upwind of them, but in clear sight of both. He nickered a greeting to them. "Evening" he simply said, lowering his scarred visage to the water, drinking away the taste of sand from the day's travel.
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Post by Caity the Brumby on Oct 29, 2009 2:45:36 GMT -5
Ooc: Sorry if the reply is late and terrible, had to dig myself out from underneath assignments >>;;
The black stallion regarded the mare curiously, her uncertainty was odd as was the question over his knowledge of her identity. Tingara cocked his head slightly, portraying his confused look to the world. Desperately he wracked his brains to make sure that he did not know of who this strange mare was; it would be rather embarrassing to forget someone who might be an old friend.
"I fear I do not know who you are. I apologize if we have met before for it seems your identity escapes my memories," he answered truthfully. As soon as the black star was revealed from underneath her forelock, Tingara's eyes raked over it but for him it held no significance and so he was left confused as to what his reaction was supposed to be. "That's a pretty star on your forehead, it is very unique," he ventured, hoping he'd said the right thing.
The arrival of another startled the young black stallion as all his attention had been so focused on the mare before him. He shied away from the new stallion, pinning his ears back and looking at him uncertainly. The stranger's body language did not seem threatening but that could change with a mare involved. "Greetings," Tingara answered the stallion curtly with a bob of his head. It was clear his relaxed manor had evaporated at the arrival of the other stallion.
"What, may I ask, brings you here on this fine evening?" the black stallion asked in an attempt to be polite, glancing nervously at the mare as he did so. In the pale moonlight he could see scars on the other's body and this unnerved Tingara even more so. Wild explanations for the scars danced through his mind, in turn making him tense and even more agitated. Nostrils flaring, Tingara fought the urge to back away and stood his ground. |
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Post by steeljaw36 on Oct 29, 2009 13:07:59 GMT -5
Fireborne looked up, raising his dial to meet the gaze of the other stallion. "What brings me here? Mainly, it being the only easy source of water nearby, this" He indicated the pool.
"It is, at least a bright night, makes it easier to see what may be comming to make a meal of you, yes" he replied, again lowering his dial to drink.
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Post by nivalis on Nov 3, 2009 2:18:53 GMT -5
Name:Niran (ney-rin) (Flames in Arabic)
Sex: gelding
Breed: thoroughbred
Age:22
Coat color: chestnut
Eye Color: amber, nearly gold depending on disposition
Facial Markings: white star
Leg markings: two hind white stockings and one front pastern
Mane & tail color: fiery red (various shades of gold-burgundy)
History: Niran was born in a luxury box stall, his bed was soft and warm, but something was genuinely wrong. Cold hands pried away the membrane encasing him, insulating his still soaked coat. There was a foreign smell hanging heavily in the air, not the huffing of his mother's breath or the stimulating sensation of her tongue. A course thing was drying him, and he was terrified. He has lived the last 22 years in the same mindset. And when he began to age, after failing for the better part of his life, his owners left him to carry on in the way that any old nag may. Food was sparse and life was not as it had been once. There was not the glory of the track or the show ring, the pristine stall, or the company of the herd. So the day the barn burned and fencing failed he did what instinct instructed. He ran.
Personality: He is a survivor, despite how lost he may be. A loner only because of what he has been subjected to. Life means living.
Additional info: Severely lacking in muscle tone and weight. Is currently dealing with trying to survive.
Current Mate: none
His feet were tired, and his last shoe was hanging on by a couple of nails sideways. His knees clicked every step he took, his hip ached, and his muscles were seizing from lack of conditioning. A light still shown in his eye however, and his brain told him that if he could just find an open area, a clearing, he might rest. He bobbed along, his head low to dip below the branches in the densely grouped forest. He knew well that it had not seen human influence in many a year, and that filled him with an odd sense of security.
The trees thinned ahead, saplings crowded tightly, stretching towards the light in effort to grow. He nipped at them as he edged through them, his lips toying with them for a moment before he pushed them back towards his throat with his tongue. He chewed lazily, the last bit of strength he retained carried his emaciated form into a patch of overgrown weeds where his knees folded and he flopped down onto his haunches, a sickening sound seemed to carry through the wood for a moment but his eyes were already hinged shut, and his mind failed to consciously notice.
Somewhere a stream babbled in the distance.
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Post by CrazySparkles on Nov 3, 2009 6:58:12 GMT -5
OOC - Sorry guys...I have been busy with some real life things. I'm very pleased though that so many of you have taken an interest in this thread  Windrunners blue-eyed gaze shifted between the two males, her legs trembling as she stepped backwards one step, then two. The wind assaulted her backside and flung her rich, black tail between her hindquarters as her hocks nearly collapsed. There were too many. Too many. The grey mare, the only female out of the four strangers, reared up into the night, her black forelegs striking the chilly air as her blue eyes rolled with fear. She landed on her forehand momentarily, only before sidestepping on her tip-toes with every intention of bolting away from the newcomers. However, something held her to the sandy ground, transfixed by the soft speech that fell upon her ears. These horses had come looking for her. Her, the cursed mare that roamed the desert with metaphorical storm clouds overhead. Cautiously her ears flicked as she situation weighed heavily on her mind. Could they be cursed as well? Could they have been banished from their home herds just as she had? Windrunner panted, her nostrils fluttering with indecision. Her lips trembled, and opened, but speech escaped her painfully dry mouth. How long could she fight her instinct to flee? |
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Post by steeljaw36 on Nov 4, 2009 4:50:26 GMT -5
Fireborne raised his dial into the wind, his thirst quenched. The wind carried the mare's scent downwind, trying to cover the mark on her forehead as hard as it was blowing against him, lifting his tresses away behind him.
"I've heard of you" he replied. "Fear the dark starred one, for she brings nothing but misery", or whatever equus dammed thing they're saying about you nowadays..." At this he looked straight at her, his dark orbs meeting hers. "Frankly, I never believed in such nonsense, and even IF I had, I doubt there is anything more your "curse" could do to me" Fireborne snorted and shook his dial, throwing his mane to one side. "So, are you going to run and keep believing what they say about you, or have you had enough and are going to prove to them how empty thier words are?" he finished, standing on the oppisite bank, doing nothing but watching her through his dark orbs.
ooc: yeah, yeah, lot of repeating in that, but hey, it's 5am what do you expect from me?
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Post by cherokeehuntress on Nov 7, 2009 23:38:23 GMT -5
Name:Tristian
Gender:Stallion
Breed:Spanish Mustang
Coat Color: Blue roan
Eye Color:deep brown
Markings:an unusual white dorsal stripe
Personality: Tristian is very quiet and reserved. He doesn't trust anyone, from past expirences. He wishes he could, though. Many would think, just from outward emotions, that he was in a depression, when he really isn't. Just looking for the right horse to trust.
Tristian paced, turning thoughts over and over in his head. He knew it was time to stop roaming and find someone. Someone he could tell his story, and not worry that they would tell the whole world. Stop it, his conscience told him. No one wants you. They will tell everyone what you did. You don't even deserve to be alive. Keep running. Tristian shook his black head, shooing away the thoughts. He missed other horses. Any sign of horseflesh, really.
Tristian sniffed the wind as it tugged at his knotted mane. Horses. He sniffed again. A few stallions, and what was that? A mare. His heart leaped at the thought of starting anew. Tristian took a few tentative steps forward, thinking about it. Stop thinking! he told himself. He trotted for a few more yards, and then stopped. Thoughts attacked him, and his nerves sparked.
Tristian looked around at the horses. The poor mare, he thought. Stuck in between all these stallions. They all turned to look at him, and his heart beat nervously in what seemed his throat. "Hello," he managed to get out with little emotion.
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Post by rhianna4554 on May 16, 2011 15:15:17 GMT -5
Name: Kia
Gender: Mare
Breed:Spanish Mustang
Coat Color: red roan
Eye Color: an unusual pale ivory colour
Markings:two front socks and a back right coronet with a white snip
Personality: She rarely trusts stallions after a bad experience which has made her protective of other mares with stallions nearby.
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Kias head snaps round as a breeze stirs bringing distinct stallion scents nearby to her attention. Ears lacing half back unhappily she turns on her haunches breaking into a gallop following the smell.
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