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 Posted: Sun Sep 14, 2008 10:14 am
Do you want to play a part of the Noctua metaplot? Of course you do... And this time we're doing something new and exciting! We're giving away the four Sentinels above, for free. The only catch is that you'll need to fill in the blanks in their RP-forms in order to win the character. And once you've won the character, you will become a part of the plot as it unfolds. You will need to complete a minimum amount of roleplay before the Sentinel is truly yours, so do not enter if you cannot fulfill the roleplay requirements. There IS a risk of character injury or death in this scenario, so keep that in mind. If your character survives you get to keep him or her. If your character does not survive you'll get a reward too, don't worry. If you go MIA or become otherwise unable to finish the RP requirements, the character will be given to another player and you will not get another chance to get him/her back. Event specific rules- All the usual RP rules apply
- You may try for TWO of these Sentinels, please make your preference clear in your entry. However,
- You may only win ONE of these Sentinels, so chose carefully before entering.
- No further customization will be permitted at this time (but you may try for an upgrade slot after the plot is finished).
- Some of these characters have additional secrets that will be revealed to the winner.
- These secrets may contradict the personality/history you have written, and you will need to revise the character form accordingly.
- Depending on how things play out there is a risk for death or permanent injury.
- In order to earn your character you will have to complete five roleplays (three roleplays will be part of the plot, you must plan the other two)
- At least one of those roleplays should be with non-plot characters.
- Roleplay with characters you already own doesn't count towards your roleplay quota.
- These two extra RPs must be completed within one month of the end of the scripted RPs.
- You will get some required meetings, and some suggestions, but you will ultimately decide what happens during the confrontations. The Herald will be available as needed for NPCs.
Tentative TimeframeSeptember 28th - Auditions open October 5th, 5pm EST - Auditions close October 31 - Three "scripted" roleplays finished November 30th - All five roleplays finished These deadlines might be tweaked as needed if the audition needs some more time.
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Posted: Sun Sep 14, 2008 11:25 am
 Wildtype femaleYour challenge, should you chose to accept it, is to fill in the blanks in her character form and also to answer the prompt below. You are only allowed to add to the character form, don't delete anything that's already in it. You'll need to give her a name and a personality. You may add a companion if you feel it would make sense for her to have one. The Forager taskContrary to the name, the modern Forager does not forage - he grows. These Sentinels have perfected the art of cultivating certain desirable foodstuffs (ie. mushrooms, berries, etc.) by deliberately changing the environment within their territory to make conditions ideal for growth. Naturally, a Forager does not live inside the Deep Woods as larger territories are needed to perform this task. (Specialist Gatherer) PromptYou're told that your former mate has moved on, and found another female. This is of course not very pleasant news, but what makes it even worse is that she is a Mist. Your own mating with him produced a freak, a terrible shock to both of you and your proud families: The shame of it was the direct cause for the break-up of your relationship. But now it seems as though he is willingly entering a relationship that will create even more aberrants. How does this make you feel, and what do you do? [color=green][b]--Applying for the Forager--[/b][/color]
[size=10][i][b]Part I – The Sentinel[/b][/i]
[b]Player: [/b] To be decided in an audition
[b]Name:[/b] ???
[b]Nicknames: [/b]
[b]Species:[/b] Sentinel of Noctua
[b]Age: [/b] Adult
[b]Hatch Date:[/b] ---
[b]Type:[/b] Wildtype
[b]Task:[/b] Forager
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]History: [/b] 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.
[b]Territory:[/b] 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.
[b]Mate:[/b] ---
[b]Companions:[/b] (include companion info if applicable)
[b]Prompt Response: [/b]
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Posted: Sun Sep 14, 2008 11:44 am
Wildtype maleTo win the chance to play this handsome fellow, you need to fill in the blanks in his character form and also answer the prompt below. You are only allowed to add to the character form, please don't delete anything that's already in it. You'll need to give him a name and a personality. You may add a companion/companions if you think it would make sense for him to have any and you can justify it. PromptYour first hatched chick was an aberrant freak, too strange to survive in Noctua. The first frantic plan you and your mate came up with, to pretend it didn't happen and try to keep others from visiting the hatchling, didn't work. Under pressure from friends and family alike, it was up to you to dispose of the evidence of your shameful mating. How did you handle that task and how do you feel about it now?[color=orange][b]--Applying for the Wood-Worker--[/b][/color]
[size=10][i][b]Part I – The Sentinel[/b][/i]
[b]Player: [/b] To be decided in an audition
[b]Name:[/b] ???
[b]Nicknames: [/b]
[b]Species:[/b] Sentinel of Noctua
[b]Age: [/b] Adult
[b]Hatch Date:[/b] ---
[b]Type:[/b] Wildtype
[b]Task:[/b] Crafter (wood)
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]History: [/b] 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.
[b]Territory:[/b] He has recently moved into his mate's territory, north of Deep Woods near the swift cold river.
[b]Mate:[/b] (Mist Trapper)
[b]Companions:[/b] (include companion info if applicable)
[b]Prompt Response: [/b]
[/size] Entries so far:[X] Lumenne
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Posted: Sun Sep 14, 2008 11:49 am
Mist femaleYour challenge, should you chose to accept it, is to fill in the blanks in her character form and also to answer the prompt below. You are only allowed to add to the character form, please don't delete anything that's already in it. You'll need to give her a name and a personality. You may add companions if you feel it would make sense for her to have any. I've got you in my SnareHunters hunt, and Trappers trap. Unlike the Hunters, who go out in search of prey, the Trappers are content to let the prey come to them. They use simple traps (nets, snares), or companions to hunt for them (or a combination of the two strategies), instead of actively pursuing prey. In certain circumstances they may work as part of a team along with Hunters, to drive prey towards traps/other Hunters. (Specialist Hunter) PromptYou have fallen very much in love with a wonderful male, who happens to be a different type than you. You have finally decided that it's time to start a family, and that this is the mate that you want to have by your side. However, in spite of the happiness that you and your soon-to-be-mate are currently sharing, planning your future together, you can't help but notice that certain individuals have suddenly started to treat you differently. They’re acting colder, and more distant towards you. It takes a while before you understand why, since your own family has always been very open to mixed-type Aberrants. How do you handle this situation?[color=red][b]--Applying for the Trapper--[/b][/color]
[size=10][i][b]Part I – The Sentinel[/b][/i]
[b]Player: [/b] To be decided in an audition
[b]Name:[/b] ???
[b]Nicknames: [/b]
[b]Species:[/b] Sentinel of Noctua
[b]Age: [/b] Adult
[b]Hatch Date:[/b] ---
[b]Type:[/b] Mist
[b]Task:[/b] Trapper
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]History: [/b] Raised as part of a family with a strong tradition of hunting prowess, it was no surprise that this particular female ended up taking on that task and eventually specializing as a Trapper. Her family holds extensive territories throughout the northern regions, and is strongly connected to many other families in the area - in more ways than one. Many of those within her bloodline will take mates of other types, and she is a relatively pure-blooded Mist compared to her cousins and agemates. This colourful family history and heritage of openness about mixed-type aberrants has given her a somewhat sheltered upbringing, so far as the deeper racial prejudices of many Sentinels are concerned.
[b]Territory:[/b] She holds a big territory north of deep woods, near the swift cold river. Game is abundant and there will be plenty of room to raise chicks.
[b]Mate:[/b] (Wildtype Crafter)
[b]Companions:[/b] (include companion info if applicable)
[b]Prompt Response: [/b]
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Posted: Sun Sep 14, 2008 12:07 pm
Deep Woods maleTo win this fine Deep Woods male, you need to fill in the blanks in his character form and also answer the prompt below. You are only allowed to add to the character form, please don't delete anything that's already in it. You'll need to give him a name, and perhaps a nickname. You may expand on what's already written in his personality and history, as long as you don't delete or change anything, and don't get too carried away. Seeking the truthSome Watchers are not content to simply watch. Some feel that it is important to dig for the truth of the matter, to investigate a curious happenstance and unearth all of the associated details. While many Sentinels think the Seekers are simply nosy busybodies, they do perform a valuable role - they are responsible for finding the truth of a dispute between other Sentinels, to assist if the conflict can't be handled privately. (Specialist Watcher) PromptIt's not big, and it's not fancy, but it's a decent territory for a young and eager Seeker. The location is good, even if it isn't Deep Woods, and the neighbours are nice. You are very proud in particular to live close to a successful trapper since her clients are a great source of... information. She's also a handy source of fresh meat from interesting game, and has been willing to trade for your services. Everything was fine and dandy until that Wildtype decided to stick around, and to think that the Mist welcomed his courting? From the look of things it's not just a fling and she will start popping out filthy aberrant eggs any moon now. Disgusting. There goes the neighbourhood... The question is... What do you do about it?[color=blue][b]--Applying for the Seeker--[/b][/color]
[size=10][i][b]Part I – The Sentinel[/b][/i]
[b]Player: [/b] To be decided in an audition
[b]Name:[/b] ???
[b]Nicknames: [/b]
[b]Species:[/b] Sentinel of Noctua
[b]Age: [/b] Young Adult
[b]Hatch Date:[/b] ---
[b]Type:[/b] Deep Woods
[b]Task:[/b] Seeker
[b]Personality:[/b] 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.
[b]History: [/b] 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.
[b]Territory:[/b] 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.
[b]Mate:[/b] None
[b]Companions:[/b] (include companion info if applicable)
[b]Prompt Response: [/b]
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Posted: Sun Sep 28, 2008 4:42 pm
--Applying for the Wood-Worker--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Florian
Nicknames: Flo or Flori
Species: Sentinel of Noctua
Age: Adult
Hatch Date: ---
Type: Wildtype
Task: Crafter (wood)
Personality: This Sentinel is one who lives by rapid decisions, his imagination quick to choose the path that will get things done in a hurry. These choices often come with consequences that he hadn’t considered, so as a result, Florian makes more fast calls in order to fix things. He’s a nice bird, all told, but always in a rush.
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: Yes
Part II – Companions
Name: Answers to “You” or “Hey”
Species: Mus
Age: Adult
Speech Ability: 3
Intelligence: 4
Skill: Detecting worms and other parasites that may be hiding inside promising wood.
Prompt Response:
My wings hurt. The sunbeams coming through the canopy are so bright. I hate daytime, but I can’t risk being seen by anyone. Noctus save me. Or has he already damned me? After all, he’s blessed me with a monster.
Florian flew harder than ever before, dodging the dazzling light wherever he could. Around his body hung a gatherer’s pack, borrowed from a family member. Its contents were far from desirable and even further from edible. Anything that ate that would probably die.
How should I do it? Leave it on the Ground for a predator? No. There’s a chance it could be seen. Or even rescued.
The Wildtype male alighted on a high branch, hopefully out of sight of any nearby roosts. He needed to rest. How far would he have to go before he could find a place secluded enough?
I could pull it apart and hide the—no. No, I can’t do that. It’s horrible.
Sickened by his own mind, Florian again took wing, heading toward the river. It was more open there, and would be less populated. No one could see what he had to do. It was so very shameful. An embarrassment and a curse to his proud, purebred family, and that of his mate.
Maybe if I just dropped it. It could never survive the fall. Yes! … But then anyone who saw me in the area at this time of day would suspect…
At last, he reached the swift-moving stream. The sunlight refracting on the surface of the water was absolutely blinding. His head sunk down between his shoulders as he tried to shield his blue eyes from the glare.
There was movement in the pack at his side, then a muffled but insistent chirping sound. A plea for warmth. For food. Florian’s instincts cried out for the tiny creature in the pack, but his mind recoiled.
It must die. I have to… to dispose of it. NOW! But nothing I can think of will work! Oh, Noctus, what do I DO?
He stared at the water below, praying for a revelation.
If only this river could carry an answer to me. If only it could—
The river. It had been staring him in the face and he hadn’t even noticed. The river could carry things here, and it could carry them away. Miles away, where no Sentinel would ever see them again. Florian knew he’d found his answer.
With only a minor struggle, he got the pack off and held it tightly in his talons. The thing inside was still crying, but soon it would be silent. The blue-eyed male took the strap in his beak and tore it from the pack. It would be less likely to catch somewhere along the river that way. And if it were found… No one would be able to trace the worn leather. There were hundreds of bags just like it in these woods.
The metal buckle of the pack glittered angrily in the sun as the desperate Sentinel cast it down into the water. It landed with a slap on the surface and was instantly in motion, moving swiftly downstream. Florian could hear the high-pitched sounds within rise with sudden terror as the cold water began to leak in.
“It’s better this way,” he murmured softly. “It’s better…”
Whether he was speaking to himself or the tiny life that would soon be extinguished, even he didn’t know.
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Posted: Mon Sep 29, 2008 8:57 am
--Applying for the Trapper--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Cinnamon
Nicknames: Cin, Mon
Species: Sentinel of Noctua
Age: Adult
Hatch Date: ---
Type: Mist
Task: Trapper
Personality: Cinnamon is a nice girl. Very friendly, she absolutely hates being the source of conflicts. They, typically, make her nervous. Her job helps her using such frustration in a constructive way; she can be especially cruel with wild animals. When you know her, you can’t really suspect her of borderline sadism with her preys. She seems too sweet for that, and cares too much for her companions otherwise.
This trait can also be witnessed in special circumstances: Mon hates secrets, and is very much able to turn them against whoever tried to hide them from her.
However, she doesn’t do this on a daily basis … she is not easily repelled by less social characters. And she can develop easily strong feelings for someone. She could threaten friends with their own secrets, but when it comes to true love, Cinnamon might not make up her mind easily…
History: Raised as part of a family with a strong tradition of hunting prowess, it was no surprise that this particular female ended up taking on that task and eventually specializing as a Trapper. Her family holds extensive territories throughout the northern regions, and is strongly connected to many other families in the area - in more ways than one. Many of those within her bloodline will take mates of other types, and she is a relatively pure-blooded Mist compared to her cousins and agemates. This colourful family history and heritage of openness about mixed-type aberrants has given her a somewhat sheltered upbringing, so far as the deeper racial prejudices of many Sentinels are concerned.
Territory: She holds a big territory north of deep woods, near the swift cold river. Game is abundant and there will be plenty of room to raise chicks.
Mate: (Wildtype Crafter)
Companions:
Name: Diva and Lessa
Species: Two Paruses
Age: Adult
Speech Ability: 1
Intelligence: 3
Skill: Obeying simple commands, avoiding known traps and acting like oblivious lures.
Prompt Response:
Since she met that wonderful Wildtype, Cinnamon had always liked the way he behaved to her. Her weakness was gentlemen, indeed, and that’s how she perceived him. And now they’d started sharing their life with each other, she was sure she made the best choice in her life.
However, her love didn’t make her blind to everything, and she realized, after the mating became official, that Sentinels other than her mate behaved differently. Somehow, the Artisan who dyed her and her companions mostly stopped talking when he did his job, bards were much less likely to perform anything in her presence, and those she thought were friends either found themselves very busy, or a previously unknown cold temperament.
One day, she overheard a conversation between two ex friends, and heard distinctly the words “Aberrants” and “mixed types”. She almost felt stupid for not realizing it earlier.
Before the sun rose, Mon told her mate they needed to talk. She explained that she really loved him, but that she was aware that some close-minded Sentinels didn’t like their relationship at all. She was increasingly shaking as she spoke, and almost started sobbing when she asked him: “Are you sure you can stand this? Can you promise me the opinion of bigots won’t influence you into leaving me? I am not sure I would be strong enough if you left me, especially for… such stupid reasons?”
He made himself very reassuring, and Mon believed she even heard shock. Calming down, she asked one more question, not in order to hear sincere answers, but rather to get rid of that new weight in her mind once and for all.
“Do you mind having aberrant children, wouldn’t you mind them having slightly uncommon colors?”
Of course, she first thought answers were not as important now she was comforted, but when he went completely silent, she panicked.
Wait, did that bother him?!
Mon began shaking again. “Why? I want hatchlings of my own, and I want to have them with you… can’t you just tolerate colors? Why does it matter?!”
She couldn’t just ignore her feelings; he might be more bigoted than she thought, but there is no way she would willingly break up.
Getting angrier and slowly suspecting he hasn’t told his new mate everything she should know, she pressed the matter further: “Aberrants are Sentinels too! One head, one beak, two wings, and a grand total of four toes! They’re no dumber and no weaker than us!”
It felt like she hit a weak spot. And then another evidence hit back: he was mated to someone else before. And he reacted badly enough when he hears the A word.
He must have fathered one. Or more.
But what did it mean? If he was in a crosstype relationship, this would be an obnoxious display of hypocrisy. And if his mate was a Wildtype like him, the only kind of Aberrant they could possibly produce would be of the unexplained sort.
And even if he never fathered any Aberrant, he was too smart to ignore there was no way their hatchlings would be “normal”.
“You know what? You’re hiding something from me. And you are damn lucky I love you, because I’m pissed off. We shall have plenty of adorable hatchlings, and you will learn to love them. I could go and find your previous mate and let her know you prefer having Aberrants with me rather than living with her, and ask her why so. I could do that, but I won’t, because you don’t deserve that.”
Calm anger in her voice, Cinnamon finished her speech this way: “However, I deserve to know everything about your last relationship. It’s only fair game. You better be very consistent if you lie.”
She didn’t give him time to answer, she instead went to sleep. Never in her life had she been so angry. However, she had never met love before either, and such a feeling opposed her negative thoughts. Damn mixed feelings. She wished she could simply fly away and look for someone more progressive, but she knew she wouldn’t have enough inner strength to even begin the first flap.
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Posted: Tue Sep 30, 2008 9:42 am
--Applying for the Forager--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Honeycomb
Nicknames: Honey
Species: Sentinel of Noctua
Age: Adult
Hatch Date: ---
Type: Wildtype
Task: Forager
Personality: Having come from a pure-type family with good breeding and no hybrid blood, Honeycomb was appalled by what had come of her union with the wood-worker. The normally lady-like wildtype was unable to believe that the fault could be with her, Honeycomb was sure it had been the fault of the tainted blood of the wood-worker that caused the abomination. His new choice of mate only further convinced her that he was trying to hide his tainted blood by voluntarily breeding aberrants. Blinded by her contempt for her once mate, his new sin, and their would be abominations, she hatched a plan...or rather grew one.
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:
Name:Tag
Species:Mus
Speech Ability:1
Intelligence:2
Skill: Digging to plant, harvest or otherwise care for Honeycomb's garden. Not enough of an ability to speak to ruin Honeycomb's plan, but enough smarts to not get himself killed by accident.
Prompt Response:
A mist.... A MIST! How dare he! After the horrific dishonor he had bestowed upon her! Honeycomb's will grabbed for something else in her hovel to hurl down to the forrest floor in her fit of rage. Fluffed and frazzled, she let out sharp clacks of her beak in anger. Her will found another mushroom and sent it flying away behind her.
Ordinarily Honeycomb was a perfect lady, completely worthy of her pure-type blood. But this injustice called for a good old fashioned temper tantrum. After hearing the gossip about her once mate's new suitor she flew back to her hovel so quickly that she left a few feathers in her wake. Her poor hovel now looked like the thunderbird itself had set up roost in the small space.
Having nothing else to throw she grunted her way out to her perch. After a few more clacks and some digging at the branch just outside her hovel with her talons, the tantrum began to subside. Now slightly miffed with herself for loosing her composure, Honeycomb roused her feathers back into perfect alignment. With a great grunt she dropped off her perch to swoop towards the scattering of mushrooms and other objects that were hurled away during her tantrum.
"And now look at the great mess he created!" Honeycomb could do nothing but blame everything on the wood-worker, after all he had been the source of her contempt and shame. Slowly circling the ground looking for all of her belongings now scattered amongst the roots of the trees near her garden.
Honeycomb had a fantastic green toe, her garden had lovely mushrooms sprouting firm and fresh. She sighed, taking great pride in her abilities. Having spotted one rather far flung belonging she landed and began to hop towards it. Spying a tail hiding behind a large root she froze. 'A mus!' she thought gleefully, then realizing that her tantrum had made her suddenly hungry. Lifting off the ground slightly, just enough to take the prey by surprise she swooped talons out for the tasty morsel.
To Honeycomb's complete surprise the mus didn't flee, in fact it didn't even flinch. Slightly confused Honeycomb leapt back perching on the roots, taking in the scene beneath her. The mus was dead, but not by the talons of another sentinel. Not far from the deceased morsel was a nibbled on mushroom. Puzzled and intrigued Honeycomb lifted the mushroom with her will to get a better look. Nothing seemed odd about it, it looked positively delicious, but the forager in her told Honeycomb not to nibble this one. Though it smelled like a mushroom and looked like a mushroom, something was different, something was horribly wrong with this mushroom. Honeycomb quickly glanced around to see if she was truly alone. Carefully putting the delicate mushroom under the root she perched on, she then dragged the mus with her will under more roots for safekeeping.
Gathering the last of her belongings to her, Honeycomb took to the air to return to her hovel. The beginnings of a great plan started to brew between her ear-tufts, one that would take care of her problems..... forever.
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Posted: Tue Sep 30, 2008 3:05 pm
--Applying for the Forager--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Myrtle
Nicknames: None
Species: Sentinel of Noctua
Age: Adult
Hatch Date: ---
Type: Wildtype
Task: Forager
Personality: Though most Sentinels would think being born into a family with such spotless lineage was something to be very proud of, for Myrtle it was a huge weight on her shoulders from day one. That is not to say that she was not proud of her family, who were very dear to her, but it made her extremely self conscious and a perfectionist. She lived in constant fear of how her actions might be seen by her family and neighbours, and hated to displease any of them. Her parents were her sole source of guidance, and thus she did exactly as she was told even after she graduated and took up her profession as a forager. She was naturally quite shy, and easily flustered, disliking having too many Sentinels around her at once. It was, and still is, too hard for her to gauge reactions and make sure she was always saying the right thing in large crowds. The disaster that all but ruined her life has left a deep emotional scar on Myrtle, not to mention leaving her with unfulfilled mothering instincts. She can often be seen building nests in her current roost as though preparing for eggs, and then tearing them apart several weeks later. Though she had the potential for being a very loving mother, the loss of her chicks and the end of her relationship with her former mate has only made her more skittish and especially prone to bitterness and jealousy.
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: Yes
Part II – Companions
Name: Bushberry
Species: Mus
Age: Adult
Speech Ability: 4
Intelligence: 5
Skill: Bushberry is very good at telling when berries are ripe, thus allowing Myrtle to spend less time searching for ripe berries and more time gathering those that are ripe.
Prompt Response: You're told that your former mate has moved on, and found another female. This is of course not very pleasant news, but what makes it even worse is that she is a Mist.
Your own mating with him produced a freak, a terrible shock to both of you and your proud families: The shame of it was the direct cause for the break-up of your relationship. But now it seems as though he is willingly entering a relationship that will create even more aberrants. How does this make you feel, and what do you do?
Myrtle sat tucked away in her dark roost, wings pulled tightly against her body. Beneath her sat the remains of her latest nest which she had only recently pulled apart to vent her frustration. It wasn’t fair! How could he do this to her? To her family? What was that stupid Sentinel thinking? She wished she had not been so interested in the gossiping that had been going on earlier that night. It had brought more trouble than it was worth. It had all started when her aunt had arrived in one of her neighbours’ territory, bringing with her several of her friends. The gathering had sparked the curiousity of several other Sentinels who lived near her, and they had flown by to join Myrtle’s aunt. As the evening went on, the group seemed to only get larger and larger, all of them whispering about something that neither she nor her Mus companion had been able to catch even when they went to the edge of the Forager’s territory. She had considered sending Bushberry over to snoop but was reminded that some of her neighbours would eat anything that entered their territories, companion or not. It wouldn’t be very nice to send Bushberry to her death after all that the Mus had done for her, and so the young Forager had done her best to ignore the whispers. But she couldn’t help but be a little curious, and when Bristle, one of her neighbours, dropped by to inquire about some mushrooms Myrtle had worked up her courage and asked what all the talk was out. Upon hearing the news, however, she had wished that she had been more cowardly.
Her former mate, the perfect Wildtype from a perfect family like her own, was courting another female. As if the news was not horrible enough, Bristle had sourly informed her that it was a Mist female. Any of their offspring would be aberrants, her neighbour had moaned, before grumbling that he was ruining a perfectly good bloodline. Ruined for a Mist female! He clearly was as dumb as a Mus. It was only after she had spilled the beans that Bristle seemed to realize who she was gossiping to. The Sentinel tried to make amends for the terrible news she had just revealed, murmuring something along the lines of “it wasn’t your fault honey, he’s just a bad egg,” but the damage had already been done. Myrtle had been as polite as she could manage until Bristle was gone, before she flew home in a fury to shred the nest she had been working on. Though the tearing apart of her work had helped her vent the tumult of emotions the news had caused her, it did nothing to change the truth. Her former mate, who had left her because of the shameful eggs they had produced, had moved on to try to produce something even more shameful. After all they had been through! Had the horror of their freak chick not been enough to set him right in his ways? The though of their poor chick sent a shiver down Myrtle’s spine, and she pressed herself more closely against the tree behind her. Their poor chicks, oh their poor poor chicks! One dead and one that… thing! How could he have put it all behind him so easily?
It hurt. It hurt Myrtle perhaps more than the look on her parent’s face when they had found out what terrible offspring she had produced. She had tried to hide it, against her better judgment at that. Despite how strange and vile it was, diluting her pure bloodlines it was still hers and for the briefest of moments she thought she could keep it safe. But everyone knew that a Sentinel had to grow up and provide some service to the clan. Everyone knew that if a chick was malformed or a freak then the kindest thing to do was to kick it out of the nest and let it fall to a kind death. Everyone knew it was better that way. Myrtle knew it was better that way, but she could not stop the emotions that threatened to take her over at the thought of the chick that she had not been able to keep. She had wanted a family so badly, and after that clutch she had been sure it was her fault that things had turned out so poorly. But was it? Was it really her fault, now that her ex-mate had proved himself willing to mate with a Mist and produce aberrants? Had her mate moved on to another Wildtype female she would have at least understood his intentions despite the hurt it caused her. He would get to have a pureblood family while she devoted her life to foraging and building nests that would never hold any chicks. This, however, was unacceptable. Why should he get to raise a family of aberrants when he had been the one to kill their offspring for being a freak? Were not aberrants freaks just the same?
Myrtle clicked her beak angrily and rustled her feathers. It wasn’t fair! Why did he get to have what she wanted? Why could he shun his family and court a Mist? How could he do such a thing and not remember what had happened the last time? And, more importantly, why did he get to produce eggs with another female? Was she really that horrible that she would never get to have eggs of her own? The Forager made a low noise of distress and pulled her wings close to her body once more. She wanted those eggs, eggs that she knew her mate would produce. It would shame her family for her to have aberrant eggs but hadn’t she already shamed her family enough? They were hardly in contact with her after her failed clutch. She could take one of those eggs, raise it as her own, perhaps even stain in so it was not white like a Mist but darker and bark coloured like perhaps a chick belonging to a Deep Woods Sentinel. I found it, she would lie, in an abandoned nest so I’m keeping it for my own. Could she steal an egg though? Would they let her keep it? She ached for it, wanted it so badly that she would even risk total cutoff from her family to do it. But first, she had to know if it was true.
With a determined look on her face, Myrtle turned and hopped out of her secretive roost and onto a nearby branch. She needed to find a Seeker, preferably one who would trade his services for her gathered food. It would be tough finding one, but the Forager was not going to give up so easily. Myrtle wanted the truth, and she would stop at nothing to get it.
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Posted: Wed Oct 01, 2008 4:31 pm
--Applying for the Trapper--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Smokewatch
Nicknames: Smoke
Species: Sentinel of Noctua
Age: Adult
Hatch Date: ---
Type: Mist
Task: Trapper
Personality: Storm does not consider herself sheltered, but then she has no real reason to know this. She’s a proud and strong female, willing to stand up for what she wants and believes in, and is a strong believer in the idea that Sentinels should stand up and stand strong by their beliefs, and accept the consequence of their actions. She loves trapping, the care and skill it takes to prepare the tools involved, and the triumph of a successful snare. Unfortunately, she has not yet bumped her beak on the idea that not all Sentinels might be as upstanding and open as she is, and that they may be hiding secrets or out to manipulate others for their own gains. That after all is the territory of something horrible and near mythical, like a Spectre…right?
History: Raised as part of a family with a strong tradition of hunting prowess, it was no surprise that this particular female ended up taking on that task and eventually specializing as a Trapper. Her family holds extensive territories throughout the northern regions, and is strongly connected to many other families in the area - in more ways than one. Many of those within her bloodline will take mates of other types, and she is a relatively pure-blooded Mist compared to her cousins and agemates. This colourful family history and heritage of openness about mixed-type aberrants has given her a somewhat sheltered upbringing, so far as the deeper racial prejudices of many Sentinels are concerned.
Territory: She holds a big territory north of deep woods, near the swift cold river. Game is abundant and there will be plenty of room to raise chicks.
Mate: (Wildtype Crafter)
Companions: (include companion info if applicable)
Prompt Response:
It had taken some time before she realized what was bothering the others, especially since her mate had been so accepting of the idea of their mating, and after all, he had been courting –her-. But others…others around her had changed when they saw the handsome male, withdrawn and given her strange glances and then become quietly unavailable. It had started out irritating, it was now infuriating. Owls she had considered dear friends had turned their back on her entirely…all because her mate was a Wild Type!
She felt blind for not realizing sooner what was causing them to act that way, she felt furious still because they were. Much of her family was mixed types, two wings, two eyes, two feet… Just Sentinels, like her. Some of them stunning, and would someday make incredible mates for someone. If there was anyone out there like her mate that would stop acting like such…MUS brains and get their head out from their…their “TAIL FEATHERS!”
She shouted, feathers fluffing with rage, eyes blazing, which made Woodbine almost take off again as he landed lightly on the end of the branch near by.
“Dear?” He questioned, blue eyes wide, clearly trying to decide if he’d inspired her towering rage.
“They need to get their head out of their tail feathers!” She huffed, launching in without bothering to explain the prelude; it shouldn’t be terribly hard for him to catch on. “Just…everyone! Fluffing off in a panic, you’d think we were planning to raise a nest full of Specters and Serpes! I’ve tried talking to them, they just…fly away! It’s driving me mad!” She raged, before pausing to smooth her feathers and let him talk. Some of these Sentinels were his friends, so surely they’d accept him when he explained his choice in a mate. He had of course, she assumed, defended their pairing to them. It was only natural, since they were being such idiots.
“…Well…they just… Aberrants are…” He teeter-tottered on the word, looking one way and the other, like he was avoiding staring something terrible in the eye. “…Your views aren’t common.” He admitted. “Many Sentinels will go out of the way to avoid such an thing…a long way out of the way. They don’t…” he paused again. “They don’t accept them, usually.”
“…But you do?” She fished, feathers fluffing again as an ugly coil of uncertainty curled up into the pit of her stomach and made itself at home. He loved her. He’d courted her. They would have beautiful hatchlings together. They would.
“I’m here aren’t I?” He prompted, edging closer to snuggle up to her, and make consoling nuzzles with his beak. “Aren’t we here together, in spite of everything?”
“You are…” She admitted, lowering her metaphorical hackles and sighing deeply, leaning into his attentions, his warmth. She just wished it would warm up that tiny egg of doubt that she was carrying. “I know you are…I just don’t know what to do.”
What if he left her? What would happen? Would the only egg she bore from him be the one that hatched from doubt to…to what? If only she knew…if only she was just a little more certain now that things would be alright.
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Posted: Thu Oct 02, 2008 7:55 am
--Applying for the Seeker--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Duskfall
Nicknames: Dusk
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 has something of a... history. Not long after his hatching, his bigot of a father passed away, leaving his mother to tend to two hungry chicks on her own. This being too much of a burden, he was chosen to spend his young life at the Minder's Enclave, though he was not forgotten completely. She made it a point to visit him and to instill in him the ideals that had been passed through their families for generations. 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: Five
Species: Mus
Age: Adult
Speech Ability: 4
Intelligence: 5
Skill: Listening and Watching. Small mus can fit where grown sentinels cannot, which makes him valuable to the Seeker. Unfortunately for him, his night to night tasks tend to be a little risky and he is Duskfall's fifth mus so far, hence his name.
Name: Two
Species: Chirop
Age: Adult
Speech Ability: 3
Intelligence: 5
Skill: Two was selected for tasks similar to Five's and is also the second chirop that happened into Duskfall's possession. She does not know what happened to One, which is probably for the better. She is Duskfall's eyes and ears, especially if he can be in only one place at a time. Both she and his mus were bred for relatively small size.
Prompt Response:
For the first time in his life, Duskfall was glad that he had not inherited his mother's fine, reddish plumage that he so often admired on the rare occasion that she came to the Enclave for a short visit. Sure, he found her feathers beautiful, but they would not serve him in this purpose.
The darker male Deep Woods peered fruitlessly over the borders, into the Trapper's territory. He saw nothing at this moment, but only earlier that evening the Wildtype had been by... Again.
Fortunately, his feathers blended well with the territory he had chosen, which was why he was glad he had taken after his father... Or at least that was what his mother had told him time and time again. He had never met the sentinel before, but he had heard great things from her when she did find the time in her busy nights to see her second fledgling at the Enclave. Apparently he was important, which was why he had been so lucky to receive taps on the talons instead of more harsh punishments for his uncouth behavior.
Because of this natural blend in his feathers, he did not fear perching so close to her territory. He stayed high up and pressed close to the rough bark that covered the tree trunk, while his golden eyes narrowed and searched for any signs of the treacherous wood-worker.
"How dare he..." He hissed quietly and cracked his beak a few times as he tried to come to terms with what was taking place only a mus-throw away from his own roost.
"And she... That-that-that filthy mus dung of a Mist! But he's a Wildtype, he ought to know better. She's a daft in the head Mist, so it isn't that surprising." He rambled on to himself as he tried to take in what he had been observing for the past several moonrises.
And his stomach soured as he dwelled on what he had seen. He had eaten food that she had caught! He had been in her territory! He was sick with the thought and even more so by the thought of the freaks that would eventually be hatching, be peeping, begging for food so they could grow into the abominations that smeared the Sentinel name.
Another hiss sounded from the furious Deep Woods, followed by much cracking and clacking of his sharp beak.
"A pox on her, on them! I hope their feathers fall out." He couldn't just sit here and watch this unfold. He knew he had to do something about it sooner or later, before filthy freaks began to fill this once respectable area.
Oh yes, not only was she decreasing the value of his territory, she was filling the forest with more freaks, just what the Clan needed! Wasn't there enough already! He had worked so hard to rid the clan of them as a fledgling, or at least that was how he had viewed his bullying. Maybe he could make them go to the forest floor if they were unhappy or hurt enough.
Now he was older and while he did fear that punishment would be more than a tap on the talons this time, he just couldn't... Couldn't sit there and watch!
Something scuttled at his side, which caused his eartufts to lift and his feathers to sleek. He had been so deep in his thoughts and his curses that he had lost focus on what he had been watching for and little Five had startled him.
Five shrank under Duskfall's gaze and began grooming his whiskers fearfully. He had seen what had happened to Four and knew well that his master had a mighty temper, although he was unsure of what fueled it and what he could do to please the sentinel.
Suddenly he was jerked upwards and his grooming was forgotten. An immense pressure was upon him as Duskfall lifted and squeezed him with his Will.
"She CAN'T, I won't LET her make these mistakes!" He hissed as he glared at the writhing, frightened companion. After a second or two, he seemed to realize just what he was doing. Perhaps it was the frightened squeak of the chirop that was clinging to the trunk, just above his head, or maybe it was the pleading of the squirming mus, but something caused him to stop strangling the rodent companion.
He needed them, after all, even if a single one never lasted too terribly long. Perhaps he could send Two over...
His thoughts were interrupted as a hoot caught his ears. He was about to confront the visitor with aggression, but quickly realized that this was not the Trapper or her Wood Worker, but a different sentinel entirely.
It was another Wildtpye and she looked distraught.
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Posted: Thu Oct 02, 2008 9:25 am
--Applying for the Trapper--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Firefog
Nicknames: Foggy (affectionate family name)
Species: Sentinel of Noctua
Age: Adult
Hatch Date: ---
Type: Mist
Task: Trapper
Personality: A strong-willed, forthright Sentinel, she takes great pride in her professional skills, and also in her contributions to the Clan as a whole. She takes her task extremely seriously, to the point where it tends to come before almost anything—family is an exception. Such pride and devotion tends to be misconstrued as arrogance, particularly in Sentinels who don’t know her well. She has a tendency to be somewhat frosty upon first meetings, and generally takes things in a very businesslike, economical manner for a while after making an acquaintance. Genial toward longtime customers and those she owes debts to, she doesn’t mind being pleasant. It’s just that she generally doesn’t cross the line between “courteous” and “friendly”. That all disappears when she’s with family and close friends, and she is quite cuddly with those she knows well. She absolutely adores young Sentinels of all sorts, is extremely loyal to her family, and has devoted herself entirely to her new mate.
Firefog harbours a secret love of useless pretty things, particularly beads.
History: Raised as part of a family with a strong tradition of hunting prowess, it was no surprise that this particular female ended up taking on that task and eventually specializing as a Trapper. Her family holds extensive territories throughout the northern regions, and is strongly connected to many other families in the area - in more ways than one. Many of those within her bloodline will take mates of other types, and she is a relatively pure-blooded Mist compared to her cousins and agemates. This colourful family history and heritage of openness about mixed-type aberrants has given her a somewhat sheltered upbringing, so far as the deeper racial prejudices of many Sentinels are concerned.
Territory: She holds a big territory north of Deep Woods, near the Swift Cold River. Game is abundant and there will be plenty of room to raise chicks.
Mate: (Wildtype Crafter)
Companions: Yes
Name: None, but answers to “Hey,” “C’mon, then,” and “Check.”
Species: Chirop
Age: Adult
Speech Ability: 2
Intelligence: 5
Skill: Generally called after the command most frequently given to her, Check, well, checks things. Mostly the traps.
I’d also like to give her maybe a Martes at some point, perhaps after her clutch is grown.
Prompt Response:
There was a woodchuck in the snare.
Usually, a catch like that would have thrilled Firefog, but she just couldn’t seem to muster her usual enthusiasm. Not since earlier that evening, when she had realized exactly why some of her more regular customers had reduced their contact with her. Not since she had realized why that disaster of a Seeker had started lurking on the edges of her territory. She shuddered at the thought of the eerie seriousness with which the young Deep Woods watched her and dropped as lightly as she could to the ground. Fixing the snare and dragging her prize free of the cord, she quickly reset it and took wing, this time significantly heavier.
He was out when she returned from checking her lines, and that, at least, was a blessing. Landing on the edge of their hollow, the hollow they had decided would be ideal for a nest, she squeezed her eyes shut and thanked Noctus for that. As wonderful as he was, she didn’t think she could look at him right now, so shortly after the Crafter who made the cord for her nets and snares—one of his colleagues, a fellow crafter!—had cited him as an excuse not to trade with her any longer. Not since she had lost her most important customer and had realized where her others had went.
It wasn’t right. Wasn’t fair!
She had a right to choose any Sentinel she wanted as a mate! How dare they be so presumptuous as to interfere and make judgments on her choices? What did they know of her anyway? They had liked her before he had courted her, and they had liked her when they thought that the admirer who left her strings of wooden beads was a Mist. But now that the truth was out, they were suddenly distant? Suddenly, though she hadn’t changed at all, they refused to associate with her? What had she ever done to make them feel this way?
It was driving her mad! After all, it wasn’t as if there weren’t plenty of Aberrants in her bloodline to begin with. One of her cousins, whose father had taken a Shadow as a mate, was practically Ghost! But even the Ghosts didn’t want to associate with her, now. Not since he had come into her territory. Her family, at least, was still supportive. But they were the only ones. Suddenly it seemed like everyone else had turned on her. The horrible young Deep Woods had even gone so far as to darkly suggest that a nest-raiding would be better than allowing her to ever hatch eggs with her new mate.
Firefog gave an agonized keen and looked around. They had started building a nest last night, preparing for their chicks. It had been so wonderful to have him beside her as they started working on the first step to the rest of their lives together. On the first step to starting their family.
Their...what was it the Crafter had said to her? Oh, yes. Their filthy Aberrant family. Keening again, Firefog looked desperately around. The sight of the nest made her stomach tighten. Turning, she launched herself from the tree and pushed herself as quickly as she could toward the river. She wanted to do something dangerous, do something reckless. No. She wanted something more specific than that.
She wanted to kill those Sentinels trying to steal away her love. That’s what she wanted to do. At that moment, she would have fought Noctus himself had he tried to separate them. He was hers. Her mate, Wildtype or not! He had chosen her, and she had chosen him, and they belonged to each other.
But...why had he chosen her? The thought slowed her wings, brought her to a halt on the edge of her territory, where she could hear the river’s thunder. A purebred Wildtype, from a purebred Wildtype family, with a purebred Wildtype past.
...
She had questioned him about the past before, and he had been vague. And she understood. Some Sentinels had made mistakes. It wasn’t right to dig. But he had had a mate, and something had gone wrong, and...well...his reassurances that he loved her had been enough. Now she wasn’t quite sure they were. Now that she had been broken, now that she had been called unclean and had realized what was going through the minds of those around her? Now she wasn’t so sure that simple declarations of love were going to cut it.
He hadn’t been completely honest, and she wanted to know why. She didn’t want to hurt him—she was ready to risk the entire world turning its back on her for his sake—but she wasn’t going to live anyone’s lie. Something was being hidden from her. And she didn’t like that. No. She didn’t like that one bit. She wanted everything out in the open, and somehow, she didn’t think she’d be able to get everything she wanted from questioning him.
...But she did know where she could get it. She gave a flat little laugh and preened her wings, turning herself around and dropping from the branch again.
Time to see if Duskfall was still skulking on the fringes.
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Posted: Thu Oct 02, 2008 11:53 am
--Applying for the Trapper--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Fiercefire
Nicknames: "Fi" (Fee)
Species: Sentinel of Noctua
Age: Adult
Hatch Date: ---
Type: Mist
Task: Trapper
Personality: Fiercefire, originally named for the color of her eyes, has lived up to her name in character as well. She is both fierce and firey, and intractably stubborn. She has plenty of social skills, of course, coming from a large family and with a variety of clients; stubborn though she may be, she doesn't cross the line into abrasive or unpleasant unless there's a real reason to be so. She is readily talkative and friendly, even affectionate, she just happens to have her own opinions, and isn't likely to be budged once she's made up her mind.
History: Raised as part of a family with a strong tradition of hunting prowess, it was no surprise that this particular female ended up taking on that task and eventually specializing as a Trapper. Her family holds extensive territories throughout the northern regions, and is strongly connected to many other families in the area - in more ways than one. Many of those within her bloodline will take mates of other types, and she is a relatively pure-blooded Mist compared to her cousins and agemates. This colourful family history and heritage of openness about mixed-type aberrants has given her a somewhat sheltered upbringing, so far as the deeper racial prejudices of many Sentinels are concerned.
Territory: She holds a big territory north of deep woods, near the swift cold river. Game is abundant and there will be plenty of room to raise chicks.
Mate: (Wildtype Crafter)
Companions:
Name: Squeaks
Species: Mus
Age: Adult
Speech Ability: 3
Intelligence: 5
Skill: Squeaks sometimes acts as bait for Fiercefire's traps, and is the latest in a long line of Mus to hold that 'honor' - and the same name.
Prompt Response:
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeey."
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey~!"
As she drew closer to the first in her line of traps, Fiercefire's hopes deflated at the rasping sounds of something that had overused its voice - and a voice wasn't something she wanted to hear coming from one of her snares. Oh, it wasn't something disastrous or embarrassing like another Sentinel (and that would have been horribly embarrassing for both parties!); she was a better Trapper than that! It was a companion - a skurri, in fact, unmistakably dyed by its owner. The bushy-tailed creature flailed and swayed, clearly and understandably distressed.
Now, while skurris were undeniably tasty, eating companions that belonged to someone else was a bit sketchy...especially when you had a good idea to whom they belonged. It could be a giant step backwards in her relationship with her neighbors if someone saw, and lately, that was saying something. She was already fast approaching persona non grata.
"Heeeeeeey." A weaker squeak drew her attention back to the unhappy creature, and she sighed. Part of her wanted to be vindictive, to devour the dyed skurri right on the spot. Chances were, no one would ever be the wiser; they didn't have to know it had been her. It would be a delicious, if petty, spot of revenge. An opportunity to vent her frustrations. It was the least they deserved, anyway, for the way they'd been treating her lately, when she'd done nothing wrong. Nothing wrong at all!
All she'd done was fall in love with a fellow Sentinel, a handsome Crafter with bright blue eyes who just happened to be a Wildtype. She'd thought it was perfectly normal; after all, in her family, it was perfectly normal. With that in mind, it had taken her weeks to pinpoint the cause of all the cold shoulders she'd been getting, and it both baffled and angered her. There was nothing wrong with what she was doing - with what her mate was doing! Sentinels took mates and settled down all the time, with or without their own type. All that mattered - all that should have mattered - was that they were going to be wonderful together.
And they would have their wonderful lives together, with wonderful children - nothing anyone else said or did could get her to change her mind! She would live and love, and if they had a problem with that, then so be it! She was every bit as capable of being...unneighborly.
Her mind suddenly made up, Fi snatched the skurri from her snare, inducing a pitifully terrified outcry from the companion. Oh yes...she'd just found her lunch.
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Posted: Thu Oct 02, 2008 11:54 pm
--Applying for the Seeker--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Bracken
Nicknames: None
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.
Adding on: He is intensely judgmental of others, and also has the tendency to overestimate his abilities. He may be arrogant and conceited at times.
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: Fernroot
Species: Mus
Age: Adult
Speech: 3
Intelligence: 5
Skill: Sneaking into places- usually gathering information where Bracken cannot feasibly go.
Prompt Response:
It had been two hours, but it felt like days.
Bracken sat impatiently at the very edge of his territory, agitatedly preening himself to pass the time. How long had he really been waiting in this blasted spot, nestled between the canopy and the forest? It made him uneasy, but it was too obvious to sit around waiting elsewhere.
The Sentinel debated against his better judgment, considering the success of swooping in and catching the wretched Mist off guard himself- it would only take but a moment, to get her in his talons, and...
A swath of leaves trembled in front of him, and he quickly pulled away from his thoughts, head turning from his feathers to glare at the source. "Fernroot?" he questioned, and a rather scrawny Mus crept out, looking nervous.
Immediately the Sentinel shifted himself into a more intimidating position. There was only one way he knew how to deal with companions, and that was usually by force- Fernroot paused and looked up, her tail instinctively wrapped around her.
"Amazing you managed to come back," Bracken snipped dryly, though his voice was no less eager for the information.
"Now out with it."
He towered over his companion expectantly, and the Mus shrank from the threat, tiny hands wringing themselves in fear. She quickly told him all that she'd seen- bits and pieces of a story, stumbling over her words as fast as she could. After a while of this babble, Bracken snapped his beak- useless, incessantly chattering Mus!- and Fernroot immediately grew silent, her whiskers twitching. From what the Sentinel could gather, his vile neighbors were starting to build a nest.
A filthy abberant nest.
He puffed up in indignation at the thought, his temper flaring. That disgusting, wretched Mist! She was just as much an abomination as the eggs she was carrying. He'd thought giving her the cold shoulder would have brought her to her right mind, made her see sense- but it seemed to do little, with the efforts of that good for nothing Wildtype in the way.
Yes, that blasted Wildtype... it was his entire fault that this mess had even come about. What exactly was he doing there? Was he mad beyond all reason? Was he such a failure to society that the most he could scrounge up was a poorly bred Mist? He hung around her like a lost fledgling, willingly knowing that he would produce abberants. No better than owls, the both of them. Disgusting.
Bracken snapped his beak at nothing in particular, infuriated by the situation. He couldn't just let this happen- he needed more information. He needed a plan of action. He needed...
An idea sparked in the back of his mind, traveling like wildfire.
"Fernroot," he snapped again, and the Mus looked up nervously, holding her tail.
"On my signal, you're going to set off the Mist's traps," he hissed, and then gave her a small push with his Will, clearly done speaking to her- shoving her away to do her task.
He looked out in the direction of the river, his feathers settled as his anger faded. Yes... he could fix this. He could get rid of this troublesome development himself. Confidence shown in his bright eyes like mischief, waiting to be unleashed- there was little doubt that he would find something to undermine his neighbors, something to break the pair apart. There was always something hidden to be found.
This plan would be a success. It was foolproof.
I'm going to see about this nest of yours, Bracken thought malevolently, readying himself to fly.
I'm going to see to ruining you, Mist.
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Posted: Fri Oct 03, 2008 3:04 pm
--Applying for the Forager--
Part I – The Sentinel
Player: To be decided in an audition
Name: Chicory
Nicknames: None
Species: Sentinel of Noctua
Age: Adult
Hatch Date: ---
Type: Wildtype
Task: Forager
Personality: Chicory has a superior air about her, the expression on her face always seeming to linger between bored and disgusted. She embraces her spotless lineage and wears it proudly with her beak upturned. She finds any Sentinel who is not pure in their breeding to be below her, considering aberrants with the least amount of respect she can assume under a lady-like façade. As such her tongue can be sharp and poisonous, laced with underlying insults and veiled behind pleasant and kind tones.
Only loyal to herself and her family, she will ruin anyone’s reputation to increase her social standing. With back-stabbing comments and whispered falsehoods, many a Sentinel would be wise to stay in her favor.
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: Yes
Part II – Companions
Name: Oleander
Species: Mus
Age: Adult
Speech Ability: 4
Intelligence: 5
Skill: Oleander is a proud Mus who, like his owner, comes from an exceptional line of Mus. He assists Chicory in her task by gathering the ripe fruits and planting seeds.
Prompt Response:
Chicory hissed to herself, moving along the length of her perch before slipping into the hollow she now called home. Small and inhibiting, the alcove seemed like a strange choice for a Sentinel of her standing and demeanor, especially considering another sizable roost within her territory. She knew of the roost, and so did the many others who tried to settle there, assuming Chicory had abandoned the territory after her… incident. True, she had abandoned the nest, but the territory was hers, and it was stay hers. She clacked her beak as she recalled her failed clutch.
The word that she had mated with a Wildtype, who possessed as spotless a lineage as her own, had spread. She was proud to carry the mantel of her family and knew her decision was a wise one. Two proud families would be joined through their clutch, and Chicory treated the entire courting as a business venture. He looked to be a capable father and held a respectable task that would allow him to assist her in rearing the chicks, so considering this Chicory had accepted. Her family had been as pleased with her decision as Chicory, though both knew this was no relationship based on love. Chicory was no-nonsense, strict and straight to the point, never allowing herself to become victim to the whims of romance. Her choice was based only on requirements, so when the clutch had failed, it wasn’t only Chicory who was appalled. She had told everyone in boastfulness about her expected clutch, and now that the eggs had hatched to reveal two monstrosities, Chicory felt shame and embarrassment flood over her. She had ordered her mate to dispose of the evidence, but after the indecent, she was wary to mate again. He had left her to the territory alone, and Chicory sat silently in their tree, ruminating over her situation.
For a moment, Chicory could imagine herself still sitting in that roost, the sounds of a peaceful night resonating in her turbid mind. This was the reason she no longer live there, instead choosing this small hollow to remain on the territory. For appearances sake, she would use the abandoned nest to host company, waiting for the moment they left to retreat back into her new sanctuary. She hadn't heard from him again, instead picking up the bits of gossip here and there. She was trying to forget the entire ordeal completely, to put it behind her and move on so that she would no longer bring such disgrace to her family.
And now this. Chicory clacked her beak angrily. He was off gallivanting and courting a Mist. At first she had found the news impossible. They had agreed to dispose of their failed clutch, so where was the thought to even consider pursuing a Mist coming from? How could she not have seen this in him? How could he be so reckless and disregarding towards his proud lineage? It was an insult to his family, and it was an insult to her. He would bring her back to shame if he continued this behavior.
This had to be stopped, she had suffered enough because of him. He couldn't be allowed to spurn her like this, he should be suffering like she was, not attempting to create more freaks for offspring. If he cared anything for his breeding he would stop this nonsense. The clutch that would result from such a horribly conceived mating would produce a disgusting batch of abberants. The thought flitted into her mind that they would be born healthy and strong, despite their mixed plumage, and the notion burned her. It had to be his fault, she was certain she had no part in why her clutch had failed. Her family's history was spotless, and she was no different. She could not be the one to tarnish her line, she had to prove that it was his fault for the incident.
Wrapped up in her thoughts of revenge she began to hatch a plan. She needed to find a matchmaker, someone who could pair her with another Wildtype of proven standing. If she could create a successful clutch, it would clear her from blame, but that wasn't good enough. She had to show everyone that it was his fault and not some coincidence. She needed to find this Mist female and gather more information. What was she like, where was her territory, what was her task? But how to ruin him?
Chicory mused over her knowledge of plants, giving close consideration to the types many Sentinels wished to avoid. She would need an apothecary to mix the poisons she gathered, one that she could trick or possibly keep quiet by some means. Chicory knew she couldn't be seen or have any direct involvement in her plan aside from gathering. She would need someone to help her, to poison the prey in the area around the Mist's territory. Eating they prey would either kill the Mist or ruin her clutch, and no one would know the reason why. They would all assume her past mate was to blame, and with two failed clutches in a row, he would be given the lesson he deserved.
The plan was perfect, she would find a Seeker by the next night and begin work at once.
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