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Post by cherry on Mar 29, 2006 23:57:21 GMT -5
The desert seriously has become inactive, and it has such a long plot line, that it needs to stay alive. I have little to no time on my hands for the lead position, so it is open for your chance to upgrade one of your characters to the lead position.
RULES. - must remain active. - must have been a member since at least January. - must have at least 100 posts. - must have no slashes. - must be on at least every second day. - must add the word akkan some where in your post. - must reply to every thread that is posted. - might add more later.
i reserve the right to turn you down for private reasons. i reserve the right to modify the form/rules at any time.
FORM. OOC. Name: Contacts: Characters:
BIC. Name: Age: Gender: Mate: Current Herd: Acquaintances: Other:
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Why:
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Audition Post:
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Post by zozo on Mar 31, 2006 12:32:42 GMT -5
OOC. Name: Me! Contacts: Msn (you know address) Characters: Oasis
BIC. Name: Chief White Hawk Age: 12 Gender: male Mate: None Current Herd: None Acquaintances: None Other: (Read joining) - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Why: Because he is my only male, my second charrie (so he'll stay alive) and he's unique. Do you want an audition post?
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Post by cherry on Mar 31, 2006 18:06:57 GMT -5
Yes please xD
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Post by zozo on Apr 2, 2006 12:40:03 GMT -5
May the Warm Winds of Heaven Blow softly upon your house. May the Great Spirit Bless all who enter there. May your Mocassins Make happy tracks in many snows, and may the Rainbow Always touch your shoulder.
The old Cherokee prayer resounded about a lone equine's cranium, reciting as lyrics spoken from his great friend, Chief Eskadi, and repeated in silence by the stallion in times when he needed him most. And now more than ever. As the hellion had never been so alone, nor confused, there wasn't a human in sight. Where was his tribe? The red fringe of beaded tassles intertwined about creamy fringe as the pinto bobbed in time with his two beat dance. Shades of cream and mocca caught with the rays of the fiery globe as t'was driven on its path from west to east. Daggers pressed into the golden grains, brawny Mustang chassi sinking slightly with his weight. Gait was easy and relaxed, his muscles not as young as they once were, but with the fire of youth sparking his wild chasms. Crown tapered, but with the slight Mustang bulk, greying whiskers a tell-tale sign of his age. Pitts of hazel narrowing in the glare as the brujo sought feed in this hostile landscape of sand and nvda. sun
The Great Spirit was angered with him, for becoming parted with his clan, and had so sent demons to lure him from the path. Send him to false territory and test his skills. White Hawk was determined to do her justice, and not let his tribe down twice. He offered silent prayers to the one in the stars, and she eventually replied and sent the stallion a watering hole and quiet oasis. White Hawk spured tired limbs faster, until his pinto physique was level with the water's edge. Lowering boa, and lapping the ama water with relish. White Hawk had his fill, and shifted pistons 'til his bod was beside a thriving plant that stretched from the lake's water supply. Insistently rubbing his cranium where his braided rope bridle itched the side of his face. The velvet fur 'pon his nose had already been worn by the rope's freys, and the dainty crimson plaits 'pon his fringe entwined about his creamy tendrils. He knew if he put his mind to it he could free himself from the restraints, but the brujo had no wish to. T'was the only link he had with the Cherokee Chief. His friend and master.
But the ways of the native Indians were only a secret engraved in his heart, the grief of becoming parted with his tribe refused the natural instincts of Cherokee from surfacing. Instead the hellion concentrated 'pon the times when he was part of an outlaw gang. Speeding with adrenaline from a dusty deserted town, with a gangster with stolen gems astride him back. White Hawk had no qualms with being a cowboy horse, and indeed was perfect for the job with his fiery nature and strong instinct that alerted them all to danger. His heart was powerful with nerves of steel. The only oddness about him was that he refused another man to even touch the bridle that cradled his dial. That was his, and the Chief's. The way it would stay.
The wild Mustang chewed thoughtfuly 'pon the brazen bush as he considered why Fate had pushed him to this area. A faint scent of equines tingled his nares, asgaya man must also be nearby, but whom? The Bright Beast that Bit Hot did not cause nostrils to flare, the strange dancing creature that was woken from its slumber by 2-legged's, providing light, warmth and source of sizzling meat.
The wild Mustang loved to have a purpose, t'would simply not do to be part of a rambling herd that did nothing but ate and slept. And this seemed to be territory yet with no one around. If one could offer guidance to this strange world, guide the rightful path that his daggers should tred.
Forced to march into the unknown, For my proud Cherokee family my spirit now moans. But we did not die, Our souls are still here Walking in spirit on the trail of the tear.
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Post by deme on Apr 2, 2006 23:56:53 GMT -5
- sorry to but in - Oasis that's a lovely post. And is that really a Cherokee prayer? 'Cause I'm part Cherokee and would love to put that in my AIM profile.
EDIT: I'm a dork, called Oasis Meg and didnt notice til Grace told me. What I get for reading Meg's name before coming into this post. -.- *kicks self*
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Post by zozo on Apr 3, 2006 11:13:30 GMT -5
Wow, that's cool hun! -ish very impressed!-
Yes, the begining of the post is a Cherokee prayer, the last bit is part of a Cherokee poem. Here is the full version:
Alone with the moon, my spirit cries For the lives of my people crushed by whate men's lies. Taken by force from our mountain home, Robbed of freedom, hearts heavy like stone.
The path was long and littered with death, Alone with the wind, my spirit does not forget. The blood of my blood left on that cursed trail, With the young, the old, the fragile, the frail.
Forced to march into the unknown, For my proud Cherokee family my spirit now moans. But we did not die, Our souls are still here Walking in spirit on the trail of the tear.
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Post by deme on Apr 3, 2006 22:04:59 GMT -5
- Tank you for deh poem and all You'r impressed that I'm part Cherokee? *blink* lol. I'm proud of my cherokee-ness
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Post by ashleigh04 on Apr 4, 2006 11:40:24 GMT -5
Looks on. Can mares apply for this? I mean Dreamers been part of the desert for a near year.
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Post by cherry on Apr 5, 2006 1:01:04 GMT -5
Yeah, chicks can too.
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Post by ashleigh04 on Apr 5, 2006 11:41:22 GMT -5
FORM. OOC. Name: AC -initials- Contacts: msn/email Characters: Dreamer + Munchie?
BIC. Name: Dreamer Age: 4 Gender: fae Mate: none. Current Herd: The Desert. Acquaintances: none. Other: Is Akkan staying at the desert?
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Why: Because Dreamer is probably the longest horse that has lived and stayed there till' this day. She'd make a great lead, she knows the herd/land far better than a newcomer.
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Audition Post:
She stepped out from the fog, her ghostly figure took a step forward until she could see her bearings. It had been so long since the deserts had surrounded her and she felt at home. She immediately flicked her dainty hooves into a slow paced trot. The sand whipped against her dusty rump making her cough every so often. She was starving. Parched, but she was home. She steadied herself until she stopped at a rippling river. She dipped her misted crown into the ripples washing all of the golden sand and mud from her mane. She threw up her head after a few seconds had gone by and shook so hard that she could have collapsed. Her mane had grown in length leaving the ends knotted and split. Heaving she knew she had to find something to eat, her stomach was going mad of hunger. So she began her journey on.
Her hazel orbs were getting tired, every minute or so shutting then flicking open again. 'Come on girl' she said to herself in a slow and weak voice. 'You can do it, your strong, you survived last time' It could have been those very words which made her rear into a gallop, she did not know but she was racing on, the sky was darkening, the stars were shooting around. She felt so lucky to be alive! And there glistening in the moonlight was a small patch of dry, pale green grass. She flung herself onto it, ripping the roots up. It was gone. Where? Her stomach was still hungry. She got back up. Perhaps a halucination? A flick of pain reached her cage, unbearable. She collapsed.
The sun was hot on Dreamer's back. Her limbs felt stiff, standing up she reached her bearings yet again. A wave of panic shot through her. This wasn't the desert! It was... a field? She had been there last night, what was happening? This hadn't happened before, she was gettign so nautious her razors clammed shut apon some lush green grass. Atleast her stomach would be settled. But oh how thirsty she was and how lost! She lifted her crown viewing the rich red flowers and the violet ones, craving to eat them even though they were not edible. 'Where am i?' she said repeating herself over and over again. 'Where?' she circled. Her hooves felt stuck. She couldn't think straight. There were so many questions. And she was lost. Where was Akkan? She needed him to lead her home. She hadn't seen him for months. Perhaps he was dead? No she shook the thought from her poll. Her eyes shut dreaming of the old days when she lived in the desert with Akkan and Grace.
She walked about for a bit feeling dead but sadly she was alive. Sadly? She felt so lost she would have preferred to die then and there, but that was then and this is now. She looked ahead, her poles stopped dead in her tracks. Laying infront of her was the desert.
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Post by cherry on Apr 5, 2006 16:26:33 GMT -5
And I havem't decided whether or not Akkan will leave the desert. If my suggestion makes the rules slist, then he won't.
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Post by Crow'sia on May 28, 2006 17:43:34 GMT -5
So... -prods post- What's goin' on here? ^^
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