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 Posted: Sun Feb 24, 2008 7:36 pm
Event #6a - Ye Olde Aberrant RP PromptCongratulations, Lyran!Up for grabs here is the first of six first-generation Aberrant Sentinels: If you win, you get a custom-colour Aberrant Sentinel for just 25K! (Normal custom cost for an Aberrant is 250K minimum) How cool is that? Terms of the RP Prompt Flatsale: - if there are no suitable entries within the time-limit, the Sentinel may not be awarded to any of the entrants - price for the Sentinel is 25K due to aberrant colour - you can not change the base colour or sex - the winner will be announced after the entries have been judged - we may offer runner-up prizes, so don't let a really good entry stop you from trying! - although this is not an RP required shop, we ask that you not enter the contest if you don't intend to RP - Why? Aberrants provide unique RP opportunities that should not be squandered Please type up the best response you can to the following prompt. Post it here (we will not tolerate copying or idea stealing). Please remember that you are posting the Aberrant male's reaction to the situation outlined below. Quote: RP Prompt: It's Mating Season again, a time that holds a lot of memories, hopes, and dreams for many Sentinels. Some look upon this time with great fondness, remember their first love or their first eggs. Others can't help but turn a soured eye to the occasion, embittered as they are by the past. And still others find the advent of the mating season to be an almost painful event. As an Aberrant, this time of year can be particularly trying. The mating opportunities for an Aberrant can often be on the slim side, as most Sentinels choose to partner with those of the same type. Perched on a nearby branch, the Aberrant male watches as a young male Ghost puts the moves on a lovely young Wildtype. The same pairing as his parents. He's completely outside of their notice, as the lovestruck young pair are so involved in each other that they are barely taking note of their surroundings... and they are most certainly not thinking about the consequences for any offspring they might have. ...so what does he do? Is he pleased to see that their love knows no bounds, or disappointed that they are going to bring more freaks like himself into the world? Does he feel the need to share his feelings with the happy couple, or is he content to merely sit back and observe? Or does he feel and act upon some other motives entirely? ((Some Aberrants have it a bit harder than others. As a Wildtype/Ghost hybrid, it is a bit easier than it might be for some other, more obvious mixes. Only a Sentinel with a truly discerning eye can tell instantly that this male is an Aberrant, and as a result of that fortunate circumstance his life hay have been easier than some other Aberrants he knows.)) Good luck! Note: Do you want to enter, but you're finding it difficult to do so because you're not a member of the Guild and therefore can't post here? Well, then apply to join the Guild! You don't have to own a Sentinel to be here - heck, you don't even have to own a Sentinel to RP a Sentinel character!
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Posted: Mon Feb 25, 2008 1:58 pm
Quote: RP Prompt: It's Mating Season again, a time that holds a lot of memories, hopes, and dreams for many Sentinels. Some look upon this time with great fondness, remember their first love or their first eggs. Others can't help but turn a soured eye to the occasion, embittered as they are by the past. And still others find the advent of the mating season to be an almost painful event. As an Aberrant, this time of year can be particularly trying. The mating opportunities for an Aberrant can often be on the slim side, as most Sentinels choose to partner with those of the same type. Perched on a nearby branch, the Aberrant male watches as a young male Ghost puts the moves on a lovely young Wildtype. The same pairing as his parents. He's completely outside of their notice, as the lovestruck young pair are so involved in each other that they are barely taking note of their surroundings... and they are most certainly not thinking about the consequences for any offspring they might have. ...so what does he do? Is he pleased to see that their love knows no bounds, or disappointed that they are going to bring more freaks like himself into the world? Does he feel the need to share his feelings with the happy couple, or is he content to merely sit back and observe? Or does he feel and act upon some other motives entirely? ((Some Aberrants have it a bit harder than others. As a Wildtype/Ghost hybrid, it is a bit easier than it might be for some other, more obvious mixes. Only a Sentinel with a truly discerning eye can tell instantly that this male is an Aberrant, and as a result of that fortunate circumstance his life hay have been easier than some other Aberrants he knows.))
It had been just another mating season, just another yearly ritual that created some happy families, and other, regretful and resentful families. Oaken had first seen Snowheart, the Mist female of his dreams. She was everything he had ever wanted, and he loved her with the intensity of the Brigadier's gaze. When a Mist male named Peak had come and stolen her lovely self away from him, stealing his soul away as well, his ability to truly love...
Stop it, stop it!Oaken thought bitterly to himself, shaking his head. The abberant knew the pain of loss, and the joy of being alive. "Best leave them to their love..."Oaken said wearily, spreading his beautifully patterned wings and taking flight.
"Why didn't I say something?" Oaken later cursed himself, crying out ruefully at his mistake. "Being an abberant like me is a curse! Why, in the name of Noctus did I let them continue? I could've stopped them and saved their hatchlings the pain of exclusion, and the revilement of their parents! They wouldn't have to go through what I had to!" Oaken shouted in the center of his lonely territorry, beating the air with his strong wings in frustration. "Why didn't I stop them...?"he murmured mournfully to himself, regret seeping into every pore of his body, every fiber of his being. The pain of his decision struck him deep into his heart, as he bitterly looked back to the direction where the two had been nuzzling. "Why...?" Oaken cried mournfully into the star-studded night.
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Posted: Mon Feb 25, 2008 5:47 pm
Quote: RP Prompt: It's Mating Season again, a time that holds a lot of memories, hopes, and dreams for many Sentinels. Some look upon this time with great fondness, remember their first love or their first eggs. Others can't help but turn a soured eye to the occasion, embittered as they are by the past. And still others find the advent of the mating season to be an almost painful event. As an Aberrant, this time of year can be particularly trying. The mating opportunities for an Aberrant can often be on the slim side, as most Sentinels choose to partner with those of the same type. Perched on a nearby branch, the Aberrant male watches as a young male Ghost puts the moves on a lovely young Wildtype. The same pairing as his parents. He's completely outside of their notice, as the lovestruck young pair are so involved in each other that they are barely taking note of their surroundings... and they are most certainly not thinking about the consequences for any offspring they might have. ...so what does he do? Is he pleased to see that their love knows no bounds, or disappointed that they are going to bring more freaks like himself into the world? Does he feel the need to share his feelings with the happy couple, or is he content to merely sit back and observe? Or does he feel and act upon some other motives entirely? ((Some Aberrants have it a bit harder than others. As a Wildtype/Ghost hybrid, it is a bit easier than it might be for some other, more obvious mixes. Only a Sentinel with a truly discerning eye can tell instantly that this male is an Aberrant, and as a result of that fortunate circumstance his life hay have been easier than some other Aberrants he knows.)) Hickory watched. That's what he did; he was a Watcher, after all. The old bird had seen his fair share of mating seasons. He was accustomed to watching the males act flamboyant (and sometimes downright stupid) around the lovely, sleek females. He had seen dozens and dozens of fuzzy snacks and bright trinkets delivered. He had heard a hundred songs sung, songs of love and promise and cozy nests full of eggs. He had also seen twice as many hopes dashed and hearts broken. His own heart had even been among the wreckage, long ago. Back before he had grown cold and bitter... but then eventually he had learned to put the past behind him. Eventually he had become what some might consider wise. Although he wasn't self-absorbed enough to go around professing that as some sort of title! "Hickory... tha Wise." A deep chuckle at this interrupted his silence, and he shook his head in amusement. Though he could all-too-easily recall a time when the mating season had filled him with misery and regret, it seemed that the past couple years had been a bit different. Nowadays he actually watched the festivities with some amount of humor... and was, in turn, entertained by the antics. And whenever he witnessed a particularly cold shutdown -- a young Sentinel who had put all of his or her heart into romancing, only to be refused -- he tried to nurture the poor heartbroken thing into a better state. He had found that providing a listening ear proved quite helpful in most situations. (A few youngsters had even jokingly nicknamed him the "heart medic"... which just sounded silly as far as Hickory was concerned.) But for now he was watching something happier unfold on the low branches beneath his perch. Something he had not seen with his own eyes before, but at the same time filled him with the ache of nostalgia. A young male Ghost Sentinel was wooing a particularly beautiful female Wildtype. He appeared to be a bard -- or at least an aspiring one -- because the romantic tale he was spinning for her seemed to be working to his advantage. The female cooed happily at all the right spots in the story, and even hopped down her branch a bit to sit closer to him. They looked happy. They looked in love. And Hickory felt himself smiling, despite the reserved demeanor he usually tried so hard to show. After a little while, the female was called away by another Minder for her turn with some fledglings. The male remained on the branch, a lovesick sigh leaving his beak as he watched his paramour gliding gracefully out of sight. Another moment later, the entire branch shook and leaves flew everywhere as Hickory made a not-so-graceful landing next to the the young Ghost. The younger Sentinel uttered a cry of alarm and nearly lost his balance. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF --" "Sorry, sorry!" Hickory offered a cheerful enough smile, shaking his wings to dislodge the leaves and twigs now caught in them. "I was never very good at gagin' distance. Didn't mean to startle ya, young one." "Ahh..." The young Ghost began to calm a bit, his ruffled feathers settling. His gold eyes looked Hickory over carefully. "S'alright. You can have this branch, I was just about to be on my way --" "Well, stay just a minute longer, eh?" The youth narrowed one eye as he looked the older owl over. He found his markings a little unusual, but the old bird seemed friendly enough. "Yeah? Can I help you with something?" Hickory shook his head. "No... I just wanted to thank ya." Now the young Ghost was showing obvious signs of confusion. "Uh. Thank me, right. ....for what, exactly?" Reaching out one wing, Hickory gave the boy a fatherly pat on the back. "I saw ya courting that young Wildtype. She's lovely, ya have my admiration, lad!" Aghast, the Ghost's beak fell open and he began to stammer. "You! You can't -- please don't tell --" But Hickory was quick to continue. "Aye, yer both going ta have a hard way of things, if ya truly want to make it work." He scooted in closer on the branch, his voice dropping a bit as he sensed the Ghost's anxiety. "It's not easy, breakin' tradition. Have ya thought about how others might react? How others might see ya? I'm sure some Sentinels will understand, but others will view yer love as fleeting or childish, or even as an act of rebellion!" The Ghost looked away, staring off into the ever-darkening forest. His face, the same face which had been the canvas for so much love and emotion only minutes before, was now scrunched with worry. "I've thought about it," he said softly. "Sometimes I can't stop thinking about it. But I love her!" He turned back to Hickory, and the old owl saw the resolution in his eyes. "I do! I'd fly to the end of the world for Tulip, and I don't care what anyone says! Shouldn't that be enough?" Hickory nodded. "What's yer name, lad?" The boy raised his head. "Whitebark." "Well Whitebark, I'm Hickory. And I don't mean to dissuade ya from how ya feel... quite the opposite, in fact..." "Then why are you here?!" The young Ghost was on the defensive, and he had suddenly had enough of the lecturing. He hopped further down the branch, the feathers around his neck raising into a rather silly-looking mane. "I don't need you to tell me what to do! I don't need anyone questioning me! And don't you dare make this any harder on Tulip --" "Son!" Hickory screeched, just loud enough to cut Whitebark's words off. The old owl sighed then, and gave a shake of his head. "Just look at my feathers, lad." Whitebark snorted, but he did as he was told. "So? You look like a Wildtype to me... your feathers are a little lighter...." He squinted his eyes toward the old male. "So what...?" A smile touched Hickory's beak. "I am an Aberrant, boy. Me father was a Ghost, me mother a Wildtype." His voice lowered to a near whisper. "You two remind me of me parents, that's all. Without their love I wouldn't be here... and what's tha forest without one more Aberrant, right? But most folks miss tha point. I've lived long enough to know that there's more to a Sentinel than tha colors on yer feathers. There's even more to ya than who yer parents were. All I've come to say is that if ya love her, and if she loves you... don't let anyone else stop ya. Aye?" Wide-eyed again, the young Ghost nodded. Slowly he found his voice. "Aye. I mean... yes. You're right." "So take care of each other." Hickory took his leave then, diving off from the branch and managing a bit more grace than he had with his entrance. He'd keep a special eye on those two -- he was a Watcher, after all. ...and sometimes love benefited from a little nudge in the right direction.
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Posted: Tue Feb 26, 2008 11:18 pm
Quote: RP Prompt: It's Mating Season again, a time that holds a lot of memories, hopes, and dreams for many Sentinels. Some look upon this time with great fondness, remember their first love or their first eggs. Others can't help but turn a soured eye to the occasion, embittered as they are by the past. And still others find the advent of the mating season to be an almost painful event. As an Aberrant, this time of year can be particularly trying. The mating opportunities for an Aberrant can often be on the slim side, as most Sentinels choose to partner with those of the same type. Perched on a nearby branch, the Aberrant male watches as a young male Ghost puts the moves on a lovely young Wildtype. The same pairing as his parents. He's completely outside of their notice, as the lovestruck young pair are so involved in each other that they are barely taking note of their surroundings... and they are most certainly not thinking about the consequences for any offspring they might have. ...so what does he do? Is he pleased to see that their love knows no bounds, or disappointed that they are going to bring more freaks like himself into the world? Does he feel the need to share his feelings with the happy couple, or is he content to merely sit back and observe? Or does he feel and act upon some other motives entirely? ((Some Aberrants have it a bit harder than others. As a Wildtype/Ghost hybrid, it is a bit easier than it might be for some other, more obvious mixes. Only a Sentinel with a truly discerning eye can tell instantly that this male is an Aberrant, and as a result of that fortunate circumstance his life hay have been easier than some other Aberrants he knows.)) Bristlecone huddled closer to the trunk of the tree he had chosen as a perch. He watched the pair sullenly. Another mating season, just gearing up for another year alone. They looked so happy. No idea what would happen to any offspring they might produce. No matter how old Bristlecone got, he never stopped feeling bitter and jealous during mating season. His first several years as an adult he had tried to find a female, but of course, his honesty about being an Aberrant drove most of them off. Of course, he was used to that sort of thing. Had been since he was a fledgling. Younglings can be so cruel. Always stuck being the Spectre in “Sentinels and Spectres”, while all the normal fledglings got to be a Sentinel if they wanted to. He still remembered wanting to be one of the Elites during a game, only to get mocked for thinking he could be one. He sighed softly, as the pair continued to flirt back and forth with one another. Bristlecone couldn’t help but hope it wouldn’t work out between the pair, if only for the sake of any offspring. Sure, they might get lucky like him, and look at least close to a normal type, but if they had his honest streak, it certainly wouldn’t matter. But then… If they could love each other despite their difference in type, maybe, just maybe, there was a female out there who would love Bristlecone. A hopeful look crossed his face, if only for a moment. No. They may be different types, but neither of them was saddled with the title of “Aberrant”. No female would choose to be with an Aberrant, and Bristlecone would never lie about it. It just wouldn’t be fair for the female to find out when their hatchlings were Aberrants as well. And it wouldn’t be fair to any children of his. So a bachelor he was, a bachelor he had been for all of his life so far, and a bachelor he would remain. He had to be. It’s not like she would ever notice him, anyways, he thought, looking wistfully over his shoulder. Bristlecone shook himself, he was getting nostalgic again; it wasn’t like her not taking a mate again this year meant anything. Especially anything to do with him. Heaving a sigh, he spread his wings, taking off. Only slightly startling the Wildtype and Ghost. Completely unintentionally, of course.
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Posted: Thu Feb 28, 2008 12:10 pm
Redthorn clacked his disty hued beak in a mild annoyance as he watched the male and female before him. His golden eyes were partially closed and narrowed.
"Pretty little thing... She looks like Mother... The same eyes... That dainty smile. It won't last long. She'd be broken, just like Mother."
His quick analysis of the female echoed his memories. Oh, his mother did smile like that. Even in the worst of times, his mother smiled. Not to say that Redthorn was to have the worst treatment out of the current booming population of aberrants, but times were not easy.
For the most part, it was his parents whe suffered from scorn. Growing up was not easy for little Redthorn, but if he stayed silent and meek, usually it was hard for others to pick out his 'abnormality,' as others might call it from time to time.
"Mama, wha' wron'?"
"Don't worry your head, Red. Everything's gonna be alright..."
"Where's Papa?"
"Gone... It's just us, kiddo..."
His eyes wore a frown as his mind drifted to his past. His mother was such a beautiful, strong creature, despite the scorn and abandonment. He had a slight loathing for ghost sentinels. Actually, it was directed towards the older ghost sentinels. Any one of them might of been his father. The male that had courted his mother left not long after Red hatched. He could barely recall what the male looked like, let alone his name.
"He didn't stay..." Redthorn grumbled quietly. His voice was like gravel, completely different from the light tone his mother held. She was a bard, and a successful one, at that. That was, up until the ghost male won her heart, gave her child, and left.
She raised Redthorn by herself, for the most part. A kind gatherer, a friend of his mother's, supplied them with a little extra food now and again. It was a meager start, but both he and his mother survived. There was a second egg that did not.
"The good for nothin'... Gah... Good for nothin musforbrains. Maybe she would of been happier... Maybe she would still be here, instead of flying with Noctus."
He shifted uncomfortably on his wide, limbed perch. This was probably the only time of year Thorn was known to be grouchy and synical. Any other time he came off as a jolly fellow, who aspired to mind and teach young hatchlings. So far, his dream had not come through for him and he served as a watcher.
His eyes seemed to grow more narrow, if that was possible for the frustrated male. He was determined to ward the ghost male off of the pretty little wildtype, who reminded him of his deceased mother.
"Oy! You! Ghost! Get yer good fer nothin' tail away from her!"
The two had not noticed him up until then. Both turned and gave him incredious looks. He was actually yelling these things across the way. He was shouting at them.
"He hasn't ever done that before..." The female whispered quietly to the male that courted her.
"Maybe a few feathers short up there..." The male replied.
"He has always been so helpful, though..." The meek wildype, who looked so much like Redthorn's mother, whispered in reply.
"He might not look much like it... But he is an aberrant. Most of them aren't all right in the head, anyways." The ghost replied, though really he did not have too much room to speak, as the Terrible Trio would put it. He was of a coloration that was just accepted alongside of the main four.
Redthorn watched with anxiety as the two lifted off of their perch... Together.
They disappeared into the forest, leaving the aberrant alone with the thoughts of his beautiful, strong willed mother and his owl of a father.
"No... It can't happen to her... Not again..." He moaned quietly.
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Posted: Fri Feb 29, 2008 6:07 pm
Folly scratched his head with one long claw. This time of year again? He hadn't been keeping much track of the nights as they went by, and now it was that time again. The mating season. He rolled his eyes to himself.
He knew it must be that time of year as couples seemed to be everywhere, even more than usual. As he squatted on his pirch he couldn't help but observe a poor couple courting. A ghost. And a wildtype. Lovely. Folly was both of them in one, but instead of being remarked as "cute" he was called the outcast. The freak. Wasn't society grand? Folly finished preening, dislodged one final loose bit of down and watched it float gently downward. It quickly got itself caught on a prickly leaf. Nice.
Folly took wing, flying away from the self-absorbed young couple. They hadn't even seen him. And if they had... Hurph! Who cares? They didn't see him, so why waste time on what ifs? Folly swerved to the south, winging his way in a large circle to avoid disturbing the two lovers. "Let then waste their time! They'll probably find more suitable mates later anyway." He mumbled to himself half-heartedly.
Folly tried not to think about his love. His lack of love, actually. He had no one, no special female. But there had to be someone, right? Somewhere! Folly shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of optimism. Wrong! Impossible! There was no one. Never would be. Ever. So stop thinking about it!
He made it back to his territory and sunk into his nest. It was good to be home! No one to ruin the perfect silence of his nest. No one. At all. Folly sighed. Fine. Maybe he did need someone. And maybe there might be someone out there for him. Somewhere. He lifted himself back up and wearily took wing towards the deep woods. No harm in trying, huh?
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