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 Posted: Sat Oct 04, 2008 10:33 am
--Applying for the Wood-Worker--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Treebark
Nicknames: Tree
Species: Sentinel of Noctua
Age: Adult
Hatch Date: ---
Type: Wildtype
Task: Crafter (wood)
Personality: Tree is a friendly, good-natured sentinel, usually eager to help. Very imaginative, he is a good crafter to go by when you're not totally sure of what you want; he's excellent in filling in blanks. He's a bit impulsive, too, but not too much. Usually, quick impulsive decisions are made, but only on small matters. Despite the history with his former mate, he got over it fairly quickly, being a pretty up-beat fellow. Gloomy Tree, however, is a very gloomy tree, and is quite dark whenever he's seriously upset, disappointed or agitated, to the point of being fairly cold and pretty mean. Also a little reckless, but in this case, its angry!Tree, not gloomy Tree.
History: He was born and raised in a pure and very old Wildtype family and his first mate was a female from another, equally proud family of Wildtypes. Together, they managed to secure a very favorable territory, and everything should have been perfect. However, when their first clutch arrived earlier this year, one chick was dead in the shell and the other was... abnormal.
The evidence of their catastrophic mating has since been disposed of, and the pair are no longer mates for fear of hatching more freaks. He has moved on and is currently, and rather successfully, courting a certain Mist female.
Territory: He has recently moved into his mate's territory, north of Deep Woods near the swift cold river.
Mate: (Mist Trapper)
Companions: None, ate his old mus last week. Procrastinating on fetching a new one from a keeper.
Prompt Response:
Tree sighed, perched at the edge of his territory, which he expected wouldn't be his much longer. Next to his branch was a hollow, and in that hollow was the abomination. He was waiting to push it out, ignoring its existence to avoid any guilt. It was his hatchling, and he was going to kill it. It was the smart thing to do, of course, if they raised it, it probably wouldn't survive anyway, and they'd be outcast from society over this... thing. Yes, thing. Not hatchling anymore. A bit cold for himself, he mused, but he couldn't possibly think of it as a sentinel, really. The other hatchling, which had been normal, but dead, had already been taken care of. It was lowered to the ground like any normal dead sentinel, but this one he didn't want to dispose of at night time. At night time, people could fly by and see it drop. They could see it on the floor, they could know it was his and his mate's. And unlike the dead hatchling, it mattered if this one was seen. To his family, to her family.
So he was waiting till daybreak to drop it, and now he saw the forest getting clearer, slowly irritating his eyes that so much enjoyed darkness. But still, there were those who stayed up this late, and he waited longer. He waited until he was sure the sun was rising at the unseen horizon, and hopped into the hollow. Soon enough the hatchling was kicked out, though he didn't watch as it fell to the floor. He'd be covering his ears if he had hands, just to make sure he wouldn't hear it hit the floor or bounce off of anything. It should have been his perfect life. It should have been a perfect hatchling to go along with it, make him and his mate proud, who knows, become a noble Elite someday! Or a Huntmaster. Maybe even a crafter like himself! And they could work together, and be a happy family, and he could smile at his chick's graduation.
Now he even had to hang around! Angrily, the wildtype hopped out onto the branch, then on to a lower one. Now he had to make sure one of those scavengers would pick it up. Fortunate for him, it was quick... well, sort of. It did take a couple of hours, but soon enough he saw a fox scurry beneath the tree, grab something, which he was sure was the hatchling, and hurry off, happy for a meal. Sighing, he spread his wings, taking off of the branch and rising into the daylight. He wanted to sleep now, and put that little abomination behind him. Sentinels shouldn't be out in the daytime, dammit! They also shouldn't have abomination chicks. And if they did have abomination chicks...
They shouldn't stay together.
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Posted: Sat Oct 04, 2008 11:30 pm
--Applying for the Wood-Worker--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Padouk
Nicknames: Paddy
Species: Sentinel of Noctua
Age: Adult
Hatch Date: ---
Type: Wildtype
Task: Crafter (wood)
Personality: Padouk was very proud of his Wildtype lineage, until his first clutch revealed that he could never have the sort of pure blood satisfaction the rest of his family has. After he disposed of that hatchling, he has been plagued by guilt and has decided that he won’t be constrained by his type any longer. His pride now lies in the fact that he has come to terms with this and can court anyone he pleases.
Now that his pride has changed reasons, he is also reconsidering how he has acted before he met the Mist Trapper. His haughtiness has now turned towards those who don’t accept aberrant hatchlings, but if anyone were to confront him about what happened to his last aberrant hatchling, he wouldn’t know how to react. He is trying to remake himself with his new possible mate and forget about his life before her. She has changed his life in wonderful ways and he is trying to be the best possible Sentinel to deserve the life he has now.
He works very hard to live up to everyone’s expectations and even go beyond them, which is what led him to specialize in wood crafting. Padouk especially likes to carve patterns into his work but still make things to be useful in daily life.
History: He was born and raised in a pure and very old Wildtype family and his first mate was a female from another, equally proud family of Wildtypes. Together, they managed to secure a very favorable territory, and everything should have been perfect. However, when their first clutch arrived earlier this year, one chick was dead in the shell and the other was... abnormal.
The evidence of their catastrophic mating has since been disposed of, and the pair are no longer mates for fear of hatching more freaks. He has moved on and is currently, and rather successfully, courting a certain Mist female. Add: This has upset his family dearly, and his relationship with them is on the rocks right now. If he does have a clutch with the Mist Trapper, they will definitely disown him and truly believe he has died.
Territory: He has recently moved into his mate's territory, north of Deep Woods near the swift cold river.
Mate: (Mist Trapper)
Companions: A chirop named Druce whose quick wing movements make him handy to Padouk when the Crafter is in a tight spot while gathering wood. He is also fairly accurate at identifying different trees when showed an example beforehand. He gains this companion after he and his Wildtype mate seperate to keep him company.
Prompt Response:
Padouk hooted loudly as he awoke, his feathers fluffed out in terror; nightmares, though they weren’t so often now. Often enough to remind him of the horrible thing he had done, the thing he would never forgive himself for. Killing his own hatchling.
He was glad for the nightmares, else he might forget the life he extinguished, not so many moons ago. It made him appreciate his new life, courting that amazing Mist so much more with such sadness in his past.
She peeped up at him from their perfect nest hungrily, and he didn’t know what to do. Padouk knew that his mate had gone away, back to her family, away from the pain and terror that was encased in this small bit of feathers. Her feathers were so…strange. Such a pattern, not like Padouk’s or his mate’s faultless examples of Wildtype coloring. His mate had left him to take care of this thing.
What could he do? Only what she, his friends, his family, expected of him: get rid of her. The thing. It was better to think of her as a thing. It. Already dead.
He climbed into the nest, ear tufts twitching. Padouk had to do something, and quickly, before he lost the will to get rid of it and left it for the Minders to find. He was so proud to have children to carry on Clan tradition, but he had failed. This failure wouldn’t go any further.
Padouk took it into his talons, trying to ignore the desperate peeps coming from his child, his daughter, no, it. The Crafter snapped its neck. He shuddered, couldn’t leave any time to mourn, or he’d realize what he had done, taken a Sentinel’s life.
Tearing the nest apart with his beak and talons, Padouk let it fall to the forest floor, trying so terribly hard to not hear the small body as it fell onto branch after branch, finally settling to the forest floor and he could see it not longer.
Done. It was done. He took off quickly after his mate, Padouk needed her warmth to reassure him that this had been the right thing to do. Padouk could never return to this place.
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Posted: Sun Oct 05, 2008 3:47 am
--Applying for the Wood-Worker--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Basil
Nicknames: ---
Species: Sentinel of Noctua
Age: Adult
Hatch Date: ---
Type: Wildtype
Task: Crafter (wood)
Personality: Outwardly, he appears very much like he was raised to be; of strong lineage and bearing. More intimate contact would reveal him as a rather shy, sensitive gentleman; less inclined to the stuffy, unyielding traditions of his forebearers.
While he may confess to having been “bullied” into his first mating by his parents, he's become more assertive since then, making a very bold (and very scandalous) break from tradition and courting a very lovely Mist female.
History: He was born and raised in a pure and very old Wildtype family and his first mate was a female from another, equally proud family of Wildtypes. Together, they managed to secure a very favorable territory, and everything should have been perfect. However, when their first clutch arrived earlier this year, one chick was dead in the shell and the other was... abnormal.
The evidence of their catastrophic mating has since been disposed of, and the pair are no longer mates for fear of hatching more freaks. He has moved on and is currently, and rather successfully, courting a certain Mist female.
Territory: He has recently moved into his mate's territory, north of Deep Woods near the swift cold river.
Mate: (Mist Trapper)
Companions: ---
Prompt Response:
Spite, he finally conceded to himself. It was quite possibly... done out of spite. As his mind re-lived those bygone nights, a gnawing thought crept its way up through his heart. He had really done the right thing... right?...
... probably not...
His mating to her had been thankfully short. That insufferable crow of a female, she may just as well have seen to that herself. It wasn't that their relationship had begun without much promise. He could admit that he had genuinely cared for her at one point... perhaps even loved her... but whatever had been there, had slowly been chipped away over time.
The trouble had all begun over such simple things at first... such petty differences, never really dealt with... until at last, he could think forward to what he had been made to do- forced to do. There, in front of her very eyes that night... its broken form laying at his bloodied feet... the wild, satisfied glare in her eyes... the desperate haze clouding his...
... disgusting. He felt no real guilt for what he had done... should he? He should. To blame himself for the way their children had been born. To blame himself for how they had left their world. Something inside goaded at him, as if saying he should feel ashamed. He'd been forced to do it... was he really wrong to have done it?...
... probably...
It needn't have died.
Should he have blamed her for what they all became, them and their children? Honestly?... Will he likely ever forgive her, or himself for that matter?...
“... Not likely.”
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Posted: Sun Oct 05, 2008 12:08 pm
--Applying for the Seeker--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Keystone
Nicknames:
Species: Sentinel of Noctua
Age: Young Adult
Hatch Date: ---
Type: Deep Woods
Task: Seeker
Personality: Proud, rash, opportunistic and has a rather cruel sense of "humor". He is also absolutely positive that everything bad that have ever happened to him can be blamed on an aberrant. He is quick to take credit for good ideas and successful operations, but just as quick to blame someone else if any of his actions should happen to blow up in his face. His personality really hasn't changed much from his fledgling days.
History: He is very young, but he already have something of a... history. As a fledgling he was something of a troublemaker and notorious around the Minders and Teachers as the sort of child that needed to be watched carefully, since he would never hesitate to cause trouble (or pain) for a weaker fledgling (or better yet, an aberrant), if he thought he could get away with it. Some of the things that he did in th past could actually have landed him in some very serious trouble, if he hadn't got plenty of second chances. However, thanks to that, he has had opportunity to prove himself an asset to the Clan, and even managed to attain the responsible rank of Seeker. (Added on smile He is deeply concerned with matters regarding the Clan's security, another reason to detest aberrants.
Territory: He has secured a small territory north of Deep Woods, but he hangs around a lot in Deep Woods in the hopes of finding someone weak enough to challenge.
Mate: None
Companions: Ferret, a mus. Ferret ferrets out bits of information, and mostly stays hidden, away from his Sentinel master.
Prompt Response:
Keystone glared at the tan feathers. To most Sentinels, the small bits of fluff wouldn't have meant anything, but to him, with his keen eyes and keener mind, they represented a major problem. They'd been brought to him by the nimble paws of a mus from a nest that should only have contained white feathers- a Mist's nest. And it wasn't a service visit, either... Well, that depends on your idea of service, he thought, cringing. These feathers were from a woodworker, a male Wildtype woodworker, but he hadn't been there to discuss crafting trinkets with Keystone's neighbor. That nest was being expanded, and Keystone knew that it wasn't because the Trapper was getting more Companions.
Keystone had seen that male openly courting that uppity barely-Mist female the way he would one of his own type. It was a travesty, a disgrace, a flouting of nature that shouldn't exist here in Noctua. He'd dealt with Aberrants before; they were not normal Sentinels. Always full of themselves and proud of their dirty heritage, and their manners were always poor. They couldn't be counted on for anything important. Thinking about them made his toes curl; they had no right to drain the Clan's resources the way they did! And their parents were just as bad, telling their children that, even as little freaks of nature, they were an asset to the clan and actually worth something! "They should all be exiled, all of 'em," he muttered darkly to himself. There was no helping that mud-blooded female, but it was a crying shame to see such a pure Wildtype brought down like this.
In a way, he pitied them. After all, most Sentinels didn't depend on mere animal instinct to find a mate; but in the same token, he resented them.
What the clan did not need right now were a bunch of freaks. He knew that the Mist's family had many cross-types, but that the Wildtype male was from an old, pure family. He wondered why the male would possibly go for one outside of his type. What beauty could be seen in someone so different? Grace, yes, intelligence, yes, but beauty? The ability to make a good parent to strong chicks? He didn't understand, especially in the case of this male. He'd heard about the male's break-up with his mate. A tragedy, born from a tragedy; there were whispers that their chicks had been... unnatural. It was a shame, really. The clan needed strong bodies to hunt and strong minds to think, not Aberrants who couldn't pull their own weight.
Surely this Mist was just a rebound female. They couldn't possibly be serious about each other; she was just the warmest body he could find to huddle with. Surely he didn't mean to endanger the clan by producing more freaks- if his mating with one of his own proud type couldn't produce anything worthwhile, what could possibly spring from this mixed union? But that did not excuse the stupidity of this affair. The male shouldn't be looking to reproduce at all, with his faulty seed; he should be looking for ways to better the Clan by his work and actions. And she shouldn't be leading him on like that. These were not actions worthy of a Sentinel, no, not at all. They would have to answer for their misdeeds... and since he'd discovered them, it was his job to bring them to justice.
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Posted: Sun Oct 05, 2008 12:14 pm
--Applying for the Seeker--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Nightoak
Nicknames: Night, Busybody, Nuisance, etc.
Species: Sentinel of Noctua
Age: Young Adult
Hatch Date: ---
Type: Deep Woods
Task: Seeker
Personality: Proud, rash, opportunistic and has a rather cruel sense of "humor". He is also absolutely positive that everything bad that have ever happened to him can be blamed on an aberrant. He is quick to take credit for good ideas and successful operations, but just as quick to blame someone else if any of his actions should happen to blow up in his face. His personality really hasn't changed much from his fledgling days.
History: He is very young, but he already have something of a... history. As a fledgling he was something of a troublemaker and notorious around the Minders and Teachers as the sort of child that needed to be watched carefully, since he would never hesitate to cause trouble (or pain) for a weaker fledgling (or better yet, an aberrant), if he thought he could get away with it. Some of the things that he did in the past could actually have landed him in some very serious trouble, if he hadn't got plenty of second chances. However, thanks to that, he has had opportunity to prove himself an asset to the Clan, and even managed to attain the responsible rank of Seeker.
Territory: He has secured a small territory north of Deep Woods, but he hangs around a lot in Deep Woods in the hopes of finding someone weak enough to challenge.
Mate: None
Companions: n/a
Prompt Response:
It was an insult to his powers of observation, that's what it was. That his good neighbor, whom he'd thought to be a fine, upstanding Sentinel, was willing to breed disgusting monstrosities with that Wildtype... It was unthinkable! Couldn't anyone be trusted anymore!? Where was the responsibility!? The decency!?
He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. As infuriating as it was, he'd be able to do nothing about it if he worked himself into a fit. And there was no doubt in his mind that it was up to him to right the situation. Who, if not the Seekers, would be able to uphold the best interests of the Clan in such times?
Confident in his holding of the moral high ground, he put his focus towards forming a plan. It was blatantly obvious at this point that they both had to go. Even if they could be driven apart, it was entirely likely that they'd just find some other lowlifes to spawn vile freaks with. No, this situation required decisive action, and time was growing short.
First, it was time to make some inquiries about that Wildtype. From what he'd heard in passing, the filthy delinquent was from a very upstanding pureblooded family, so certainly his friends and relatives would be as repulsed by the entire affair as he himself was feeling. No doubt at least one would be distraught enough to speak openly to a sympathetic listener, and with any luck he'd be able to dig something up.
It was all he had to go on at this point; the other neighbors knew nothing he hadn't already assumed, and the Mist's family, from what few visits he'd spied, were being unusually supportive of the deviants. They'd be of no help to him.
More comfortable now that at least the beginnings of a plan were in place in his mind, he took to the air and headed for the Deep Woods. He had Wildtypes to find.
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Posted: Sun Oct 05, 2008 12:31 pm
--Applying for the Forager--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Bushfire
Nicknames: Buff
Species: Sentinel of Noctua
Age: Adult
Hatch Date: ---
Type: Wildtype
Task: Forager
Personality: Proud and sure of herself, mostly due to her upbringing. Doted on by those that raised her, confident in her skills, with a tendency to overlook her own faults and mistakes in favour of her achievements. Slightly immature and selfish, thinking herself superior merely due to lineage and her 'pure' blood; despite this, Bushfire is a hard worker and does not allow others to do her work for her. Capable in that what she does know how to do, and seemingly willing to learn that what she does not. Flawed in that she does not admit to her own mistakes and takes things much too personally than she probably should; it will take time and patience to learn that perhaps, what she was taught is not always 'right', and that maybe that what she'd always thought tho be right is more than slightly 'unfair'.
History: She was born and raised in one of the proudest Wildtype families and brought up to be proud about her spotless family history. Her bloodline had never been diluted by hybrid breedings. True to her upbringing she found a mate in another purebred Wildtype and they managed to take a decent territory. Earlier this year when their first clutch arrived one chick was dead in the shell and the other was... abnormal.The evidence has since been disposed of, and the pair are no longer mates for fear of hatching more freaks, but the scars still remain. Her former mate seems to have moved on, but she can't let go just yet.
Territory: They used to hold a good territory with excellent foraging grounds west of Deep Woods, and she still lurks in that area, chasing off anyone who tries to settle in their former home. She has, however, found a new tree to roost in since their old home holds too many memories.
Mate: ---
Companions: (include companion info if applicable)
Name: Oi (Technically, Buff would call it 'Oi, you', and somehow, it stuck)
Species: Mus
Speech Ability: 3
Intelligence: 5
Skill: Obeys commands, helps gathering of adequate foods, able to detect worms, or rotting fruits.
Name: Floo
Species: Skurry
Speech Ability: 2
Intelligence: 4
Skill: Obeys commands, helps gathering of adequate foods, can reach high up places to store foods.
Prompt Response:
Shameful. That's what it was; shameful.
She knew it well enough, and despite the fact she knew she should have been thinking rationally and maturely, Bushfire could not help herself from seething in rage; the over all effect was probably comical from a distance, for she was puffing up like a puffer only to deflate and puff back up repeatedly. He'd mated a MIST! How... how could he have done such a thing?!
Not like she had anything against Mists, in general; it was the concept that was frustrating her. The concept that he'd only just ended his relationship with her, and had, instead of taking time to mourn what had happened, gone off to court another. There was, of course, also the pang of jealousy within her thoughts. While it was clear he'd managed to move forward and had found someone new... she was still stuck in the past. Not only could she not let go of what happened, but she couldn't let go of him.
Rational thoughts were telling her that she hadn't even mated for love, and thus, she should not feel as horribly betrayed as she was, however, rational thought had little place in her mind, and whenever the worm of rationality nibbled at the side of her thoughts, the female found herself pushing it away, making way for rage to fill the void.
How... COULD he have betrayed her in such a way?! How could he have forgotten her so swiftly? WHY was it only she that couldn't seem to let go?! She was still protecting their old territory, for goodness' sake! At first, Bushfire had been doing it because she'd felt like it was only right to do so, but soon, it'd turned into a habit, an obsession, for while she had nothing to look forward to, there had still been the... inkling of a notion that he'd come back. That they could work something out.
She knew it was childish, that it was impossible, not only because there had been no real love there, just a sense of fulfillment towards their lineage, following in their parents' footsteps to keep the blood clean, but because the idea of another freak born fruit of their joining was a terrifying thought. He had found love with that Mist, and Bushfire felt forgotten, betrayed; she knew she was despicable for thinking in such a manner, and yet, she couldn't help herself. Almost as if in retaliation to her thoughts, her talons dug deeper into the branch of the tree she was currently perched on, her head turning somewhat to hide under a wing in a clear effort to hide herself from the world. Surely such horrible feelings and thoughts made her a vile being? She knew they were wrong, that she had no place thinking in such a way, so thus, why?
All in all, Bushfire felt confused. Oh so horribly confused; more so than she'd ever felt. The base foundation of all her thoughts... the pillars her morals had always been built on had been soundly shaken by the turn of events; did that mean that their relationship had not been worth the fight?
Did it mean that he was prepared to risk his bloodline, his family and his future chicks just to pursue this Mist? Was she just not good enough? Sour thoughts circled her mind for a long time, to the point had been content with simply remaining perched on that single branch for most of the night's duration, lazy, unproductive for the first time in her life. Since she'd been young Bushfire had always had a purpose, a goal, something to fight for, however, right now, there was simply shame.
Shame at herself for her thoughts. Shame at the product of her mating with her old mate. Shame, shame, shame; the word seem to repeat itself like a mental mantra within her skull, to the point she could not take it any longer.
Her head came out from where she'd hidden it under her wing, evergreen eyes piercing the darkness as she scowled at a distant point. Never before had she let anything, or anyone beat her. She was a proud creature by birth and nature, and she was not prepared to lose now. Not now, not ever. It was true she knew she was acting selfishly, almost like a child that screamed bloody hell, claiming that if it could not have a certain toy, no one would, however, her pride was not about to let her back down. Doing this, fighting to knock some sense into his head was surely what she was meant to do. Perhaps he wasn't aware the big mistake he was about to commit? Perhaps he was simply not aware how much this was hurting her? Maybe she simply had to talk to him, or the Mist, in an attempt to get them to understand.
A small nod of her head, mostly to herself, as if to reassure herself that she was doing the right thing, the female spread her wings and dived down from the perch of her tree, no doubt about to seek either council and thoughts from others on what she should do, or to seek out the woodworker herself. She was doing the right thing, she was sure of it, it made sense in her mind. Now, perhaps if she repeated this a few hundred more times in her mind, maybe her heart would start to believe it too.
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Posted: Sun Oct 05, 2008 1:56 pm
--Applying for the Seeker--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Stormwrath
Nicknames: Tor
Species: Sentinel of Noctua
Age: Young Adult
Hatch Date: ---
Type: Deep Woods
Task: Seeker
Personality: Proud, rash, opportunistic and has a rather cruel sense of "humor". He is also absolutely positive that everything bad that have ever happened to him can be blamed on an aberrant. He is quick to take credit for good ideas and successful operations, but just as quick to blame someone else if any of his actions should happen to blow up in his face. His personality really hasn't changed much from his fledgling days.
History: He is very young, but he already have something of a... history. As a fledgling he was something of a troublemaker and notorious around the Minders and Teachers as the sort of child that needed to be watched carefully, since he would never hesitate to cause trouble (or pain) for a weaker fledgling (or better yet, an aberrant), if he thought he could get away with it. Some of the things that he did in the past could actually have landed him in some very serious trouble, if he hadn't got plenty of second chances. However, thanks to that, he has had opportunity to prove himself an asset to the Clan, and even managed to attain the responsible rank of Seeker.
Territory: He has secured a small territory north of Deep Woods, but he hangs around a lot in Deep Woods in the hopes of finding someone weak enough to challenge.
Mate: None
Companions:
Name: Chirp
Species: Chirop
Speech Ability: 5
Intelligence: 3
Skill: Above all, more fluent than intelligent, however, observant. Able to get a good look at what happens around him and report back. Able to hear conversations and 'parrot' them back.
Prompt Response:
Was there anything more despicable than this?
Surely not! Not only was Tor horribly disgusted by the mere idea of what was going on 'nextdoor', per say, but the whole situation left a sour, foul aftertaste in the back of his mouth. It very much reminded him of that one time he'd eaten something he shouldn't have and he'd been almost forced to throw up; the notion of what he'd recently learned was going on left a very similar feeling in it's wake. But oh, he would be damned if he was simply going to sit there and LET it happen.
Aberrants were horrible, despicable creatures that should not be allowed to exist. Not only were they a bad omen (he was sure of this, even if he had no real proof just yet), but they were the scum of society. Time and time again he'd been asked by younger sentinels what fueled his thoughts; what made him thin this way? Surely there must be a reason for his notions and the way he tended to act around aberrant sentinels? Truth was, there was no real answer to this question. He didn't really have a reason for his hatred; it was irrational racism that made him think this way, and though Tor had more than once perched himself down to ponder just WHY he thought this way, his thoughts always spiraled into the same conclusions; the aberrants had ASKED for it, their mere existence and the fact they were there, enough fuel to blind him into acting against them. It was their fault for being there in the first place.
A snort of a sound was produced by the male as he fluffed up his feathers to warm himself further as he thought. There must be something he could do to remedy the situation; surely there was something he'd overlooked... something that could fix the horrible mistake that oblivious Mist was going to commit, something that could open the eyes of that blind woodworker. It was about then that an idea struck him; the Seeker lifted his head, almost as if physically hit, and then blinked owlishly several times. The innocence was lost from his eyes soon enough though, and they even narrowed down a notch as he slid his gaze towards his right, unconsciously looking in the direction of his Mist-colored neighbour. He found himself turning the idea over and over in his mind, mulling it through, trying to find the plot holes and possible ways he could fail or succeed, for after all... if anything, Tor was a schemer and usually had no real qualms in whom he hurt or whom he disposed of in order to achieve his goal.
A small chirping sound from his right distracted him briefly; the silhouette of his Chirop soon enough became distinguishable in the dim light, and the large sentinel leaned slightly to his left as the familiar perched itself on the bark of the tree. It's small head leaned over to whisper something or other into Tor's ear and as soon as it'd done telling the Seeker whatever it was it'd over heard, it spread it's wings and left once more.
So... the male that was courting the Mist used to have a mate, huh? A mate of his own type? Maybe... he could use that. And if that were to not work out, perhaps he could find a further more decent male to introduce to that Mist female. With this in mind, Tor stretched out his wings, swooping down to put his plan into motion; he wasn't quite sure what he was going to do, however, sitting there doing nothing was not an option. He would break that blooming couple in a sly, intelligent way and would thus prevent them from making the biggest mistake in their lives.
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Posted: Sun Oct 05, 2008 3:29 pm
--Applying for the Forager--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: Azumi
Name: Lorquin
Nicknames: Lor
Species: Sentinel of Noctua
Age: Adult
Hatch Date: ---
Type: Wildtype
Task: Forager
Personality: Current personality: There is no doubt that she is suffering from pain and sorrow, but no matter how heartbroken she gets, she still can’t relinquish the love that she harbors for her ex-mate. She believes so much that he will come back to her that what she calls “optimism” can easily be translated to extreme denial. In short, she is delusional.
She doesn’t really care that he’s with a Mist, or that he’ll only make more freak aberrant chicks. She loves him, and all she wants is for him to come back to her. She believes that everything can be normal and perfect if he comes back, and so she’s determined to make that happen.
History: She was born and raised in one of the proudest Wildtype families and brought up to be proud about her spotless family history. Her bloodline had never been diluted by hybrid breedings. True to her upbringing she found a mate in another purebred Wildtype and they managed to take a decent territory. Earlier this year when their first clutch arrived one chick was dead in the shell and the other was... abnormal.
The evidence has since been disposed of, and the pair are no longer mates for fear of hatching more freaks, but the scars still remain. Her former mate seems to have moved on, but she can't let go just yet.
Territory: They used to hold a good territory with excellent foraging grounds west of Deep Woods, and she still lurks in that area, chasing off anyone who tries to settle in their former home. She has, however, found a new tree to roost in since their old home holds too many memories.
Mate: ---
Companions: None anymore.
Prompt Response:
A strong wind blows and the pine tree sways, the needles dance, and through them the air whispers and sighs, just as the Wildtype sighs as she sits on her perch. White-crusted sap sits about the bark at her feet, and it glitters in the moonlight like silver ice in a mist.
“A Mist.” The words hadn’t made much sense in the beginning, but now-a-days they sting every time she thinks of them. Her Lover is the lover of somebody else. He is gone and she is broken inside and out.
Her feathers rise and fall. She is missing some, here and there, about her chest and legs, and one of her eartufts is slightly damaged. Her heart aches and her spirit cries – she gives a mournful ‘hoot’ out into the trees, but her vocals are scratchy and hard from over-use. She hoots again, though, in hope that her Love can hear her, in hope that he will come back to her, in hope that things can once more be like they were.
Bad things happen, mistakes are made, and others do things they wish they hadn’t done. But bad things can be fought and mistakes can be fixed; words can be taken back and replaced and two halves can be made whole again. He could see his mistake… he could come back… they could be together. They could try again.
She gives one last ‘hoot’ and falls silent. Nothing but the chirping of insects reaches her ears, but she continues to stare out into the territory – their territory. She will protect it and keep it safe, and when he returns everything will be whole again.
She will get him back. They will be together once more, her Lover and herself.
The Wildtype sighs as she sits upon her sap-crusted perch. The pine needles dance and the air whispers while another wind rocks the tree.
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