Post by fennecfyre on Jul 26, 2016 22:29:47 GMT
Name: Aryel
Gender: Mare
Breed: Mutt, predominantly Nokota Wild Horse
Genetics: Don't know 'em
Age: Four
Arrived in Tathra: Spring, Year 1
Coat Color: Blue dun (grulla), white blaze marking, four white socks. Mane is naturally short and bristly due to a genetic quirk and stands upright, forelock and tail are closer to normal length.
Height: 13.3 hh (she claims to be 14 hh)
Eye Color: Very dark blue, nearly black
Other: A pair of hawk feathers are woven into her mane, behind her right ear.
Personality: As if in compensation for her minuscule stature and scruffy appearance, Aryel seems to carry a wild-hearted vitality almost too bright to be contained in such a small form. Every step she takes is infused with life and energy, and her dark eyes hold a mischievous, fiery glint. The little mare might have been a warhorse in a past life--she is unquestionably courageous, potentially to the point of foolhardiness, and doesn't seem to know the meaning of the words "give up". Outgoing and playful, but quick-tempered and almost uncontrollable at times, she makes friends as easily as she makes enemies. Aryel is proudly content to follow her own agenda, and doesn't take well to others trying to tell her what to do, but should someone earn her respect, they will find a fiercely loyal ally in her. Conversely, she utterly delights in antagonizing those she sees as enemies, especially those who seem to hold themselves above her. It may be that underneath all that attitude is a more insecure side, but if there is, she keeps it well hidden underneath an ocean of charisma and confidence.
History: Born as yet another child in her father's harem of mates, Aryel knew her most likely fate was to be traded off to another stallion as part of a political alliance. Convinced that there was more to life than that, she slipped away one night and began life as a wandering vagrant. Life was fine until one day, when she was nearly cornered and recaptured by a pair of stallions sent out by her sire to retrieve her. She escaped, but narrowly so, and realized she needed to travel even further from home to be safe. Rumors of Tathra reached her ears, and she decided to see this new land for herself. She arrived on it's borders with hopes of beginning a new life, where she was free to forge her own path. Whatever that may be, she resolved, it would be by her choice and no-one else's.
Sample Post: Aryel had been trailing the strange creatures for some time, utterly fascinated by them. Upright and tailless, their brown skin bare but for a glossy black mane atop their heads, they were adorned with a brightly-colored fabric of some sort and carried odd stringed objects, thin and curved. They walked together in tandem, making a strange noise back and forth that must have been a language, but was undecipherable to the equine's ears. Nevertheless, they were quite interesting to watch, and Aryel followed them silently through the forest, grateful for the wind that carried her scent away from them.
However, the wind was too weak to disguise noise, and so when her hoof came down on a twig, producing an audible snap, the two creatures whirled around, forepaws going for the stringed objects they carried. Aryel winced, realizing the game had come to an end. Best to own up, then, and introduce herself. "It's all right," she nickered to them, stepping out of the underbrush so they could see her clearly. "I was only curious what you were, was all." The initial alarm at her arrival had faded away, replaced by curiosity. The shorter of the two creatures stepped forward and said something quietly. "My name's Aryel," said the mare, whisking her tail and adopting a friendly posture, ears flicked forward towards the two of them. "And--" she was cut off as the two creatures began to speak to eachother, rapid-fire, ignoring her words. "..And you can't understand me at all, can you?" she finished, sighing. Oh well. They didn't seem to be hostile, at least, more curious than anything else. Aryel blinked, perplexed as the shorter creature raised a forepaw towards her and began to gently pet her head, tousling her forelock. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, rather like being groomed, but it was a significant breach of her personal space. Perhaps the creature didn't know any better. "And just what do you think you're doing?" she asked him, raising a brow. His only response to her whuffling was another group of noises, pitched low and soothing.
Aryel would have been content to let the patting continue if she hadn't noticed the other biped moving out of the corner of her view. He had something in his hands, like a long, thin vine. Something about it and his furtive posture sent a prickle of unease down her spine. So, when he moved to slip a loop of the vine over her head, she jerked it upwards and sidled away, snorting. "The petting I can tolerate, but--Hey!" She danced away again as he attempted to toss the lariat around her neck again. Flicking her ears back, she snorted and pawed the ground, now beginning to get nervous. As a general rule, wild animals disliked things near their necks, and she was no exception. Perhaps they weren't dangerous at all, but better safe than sorry. It was time to leave these creatures and their strange customs behind. As he gathered himself to make a third toss of the vine, she broke into a gallop and ran past them, ducking her head as the lasso flew. It smacked her withers briefly, making her skin jump, and then she was gone, back into the forest. The natives, who had assumed from the mare's lack of fear that she a stray from another tribe, attempted to pursue her, but she outpaced them easily. They gave up after a few seconds, listening to the receding hoofbeats. "She's someone else's problem now," said the elder brother after a moment, drawing up the rope again and tying it to his belt. "Let's get home." He moved on down the trail, making for their camp. The younger brother looked down the path the mare had taken for a moment, then followed after him.
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From a rating of one to ten [ten being the best], what would you rate MUSTANG?: Nine
What do you suggest we do next/improve?: Since there are actual human tribes roaming the land, it might be interesting to do something with that (roundups, Indian characters/NPCs, etc). In addition, worldbuild! Make Tathra a cool, unique land that people will want to explore and write in.
Where did you find us?: I had bookmarked this site back in v2, and I happened to check it again out of boredom today to see it had reopened!
What would you like to be called?: Fennec, Fen, or The Honorable Captain McSparklebutt for all I care
Gender: Mare
Breed: Mutt, predominantly Nokota Wild Horse
Genetics: Don't know 'em
Age: Four
Arrived in Tathra: Spring, Year 1
Coat Color: Blue dun (grulla), white blaze marking, four white socks. Mane is naturally short and bristly due to a genetic quirk and stands upright, forelock and tail are closer to normal length.
Height: 13.3 hh (she claims to be 14 hh)
Eye Color: Very dark blue, nearly black
Other: A pair of hawk feathers are woven into her mane, behind her right ear.
Personality: As if in compensation for her minuscule stature and scruffy appearance, Aryel seems to carry a wild-hearted vitality almost too bright to be contained in such a small form. Every step she takes is infused with life and energy, and her dark eyes hold a mischievous, fiery glint. The little mare might have been a warhorse in a past life--she is unquestionably courageous, potentially to the point of foolhardiness, and doesn't seem to know the meaning of the words "give up". Outgoing and playful, but quick-tempered and almost uncontrollable at times, she makes friends as easily as she makes enemies. Aryel is proudly content to follow her own agenda, and doesn't take well to others trying to tell her what to do, but should someone earn her respect, they will find a fiercely loyal ally in her. Conversely, she utterly delights in antagonizing those she sees as enemies, especially those who seem to hold themselves above her. It may be that underneath all that attitude is a more insecure side, but if there is, she keeps it well hidden underneath an ocean of charisma and confidence.
History: Born as yet another child in her father's harem of mates, Aryel knew her most likely fate was to be traded off to another stallion as part of a political alliance. Convinced that there was more to life than that, she slipped away one night and began life as a wandering vagrant. Life was fine until one day, when she was nearly cornered and recaptured by a pair of stallions sent out by her sire to retrieve her. She escaped, but narrowly so, and realized she needed to travel even further from home to be safe. Rumors of Tathra reached her ears, and she decided to see this new land for herself. She arrived on it's borders with hopes of beginning a new life, where she was free to forge her own path. Whatever that may be, she resolved, it would be by her choice and no-one else's.
Sample Post: Aryel had been trailing the strange creatures for some time, utterly fascinated by them. Upright and tailless, their brown skin bare but for a glossy black mane atop their heads, they were adorned with a brightly-colored fabric of some sort and carried odd stringed objects, thin and curved. They walked together in tandem, making a strange noise back and forth that must have been a language, but was undecipherable to the equine's ears. Nevertheless, they were quite interesting to watch, and Aryel followed them silently through the forest, grateful for the wind that carried her scent away from them.
However, the wind was too weak to disguise noise, and so when her hoof came down on a twig, producing an audible snap, the two creatures whirled around, forepaws going for the stringed objects they carried. Aryel winced, realizing the game had come to an end. Best to own up, then, and introduce herself. "It's all right," she nickered to them, stepping out of the underbrush so they could see her clearly. "I was only curious what you were, was all." The initial alarm at her arrival had faded away, replaced by curiosity. The shorter of the two creatures stepped forward and said something quietly. "My name's Aryel," said the mare, whisking her tail and adopting a friendly posture, ears flicked forward towards the two of them. "And--" she was cut off as the two creatures began to speak to eachother, rapid-fire, ignoring her words. "..And you can't understand me at all, can you?" she finished, sighing. Oh well. They didn't seem to be hostile, at least, more curious than anything else. Aryel blinked, perplexed as the shorter creature raised a forepaw towards her and began to gently pet her head, tousling her forelock. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, rather like being groomed, but it was a significant breach of her personal space. Perhaps the creature didn't know any better. "And just what do you think you're doing?" she asked him, raising a brow. His only response to her whuffling was another group of noises, pitched low and soothing.
Aryel would have been content to let the patting continue if she hadn't noticed the other biped moving out of the corner of her view. He had something in his hands, like a long, thin vine. Something about it and his furtive posture sent a prickle of unease down her spine. So, when he moved to slip a loop of the vine over her head, she jerked it upwards and sidled away, snorting. "The petting I can tolerate, but--Hey!" She danced away again as he attempted to toss the lariat around her neck again. Flicking her ears back, she snorted and pawed the ground, now beginning to get nervous. As a general rule, wild animals disliked things near their necks, and she was no exception. Perhaps they weren't dangerous at all, but better safe than sorry. It was time to leave these creatures and their strange customs behind. As he gathered himself to make a third toss of the vine, she broke into a gallop and ran past them, ducking her head as the lasso flew. It smacked her withers briefly, making her skin jump, and then she was gone, back into the forest. The natives, who had assumed from the mare's lack of fear that she a stray from another tribe, attempted to pursue her, but she outpaced them easily. They gave up after a few seconds, listening to the receding hoofbeats. "She's someone else's problem now," said the elder brother after a moment, drawing up the rope again and tying it to his belt. "Let's get home." He moved on down the trail, making for their camp. The younger brother looked down the path the mare had taken for a moment, then followed after him.
----------------------
From a rating of one to ten [ten being the best], what would you rate MUSTANG?: Nine
What do you suggest we do next/improve?: Since there are actual human tribes roaming the land, it might be interesting to do something with that (roundups, Indian characters/NPCs, etc). In addition, worldbuild! Make Tathra a cool, unique land that people will want to explore and write in.
Where did you find us?: I had bookmarked this site back in v2, and I happened to check it again out of boredom today to see it had reopened!
What would you like to be called?: Fennec, Fen, or The Honorable Captain McSparklebutt for all I care
