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 Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 6:32 pm
Cantumwood - - - Welcome, be it friend or foe, to the home of the Little Blue Heron and Red Mangrove.This is a private residence, and as such it is asked that you do not tread inside without the owner's permission. Please don't ask if you can buy Red Mangrove, as he is not for sale- slavery is not permitted.
If you'd like to explore the rest of where you've stumbled to, then please backtrack your trail and head on over to Cantumwood, Forest across the sea, and King of nations.
And now, continue watching to experience the little and big adventures of Mangrove and Blue Heron. Tree
Red Mangrove
D.o.b.
July 18th, 2006
"Gender"
Male
Mother Tree
Red Mangrove's mother tree lives a little ways outside Cantumwood's borders, in the Cantum Marshes. It lives somewhere in the center, near a grove of wild fern and lily, and is one of the younger trees in the marsh- though that still may be quite old. An interesting thing to note about this mother tree, is that the chosen branch it bore split into two halves, revealing two nymphs of the same spectrum.
Personality
-
Loyalty
Unchosen
- - -
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 6:33 pm
Hello, and welcome to the non-residence represented by this journal. It is a non-residence because a certain little blue heron does not care for residences of any sort, and prefers to wander through the forest of Cantumwood, dragging his currently-inanimate companion along with him. But before you follow their nomadic endavours, a few things mush be cleared up!  Rules and Guidelines- Other nymph and dryad owners should ask before posting.
- If permission is given, which it very likely will, note the current location of the Heron and Mangrove in the 'Wanderlust' post before barging in on them.
- Do not steal the artwork, graphics and writing, regardless of whom it belongs to.
- PM me any OOC questions, or ask them in the main shop thread. Index 1. Cantumwood Title
2. Welcome
3. Wanderlust
4. Red Mangrove
5. Little Blue Heron
6. Events
7. Wanderings
8. Findings
9. Images
10. Friends and Enemies
11. Reserved
12. Reserved
13. Reserved
14. Links
15. Credits
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 6:35 pm
Here where there would usually be the descritbion of a homely cave, liar or nest, I am left to explain that Red Mangrove and the little blue heron are no more than nomads. They follow streams, for no reason apart from the fact that the heron likes the way moss feels underfoot in the shallows - and that if they're going with the current, it's that much easier to simply let the mangrove branch float alongside him.
Current Location
Heading back from the marshes, into the heart of the forest.
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 6:36 pm
The basics about Red Mangrove have already been posted at the very top of this page. Here there will be a more in-depth description of the creature. But due to the fact that he is, at this moment, not much more than a branch - well, the only thing that you can see in this post would be just that. A branch. Note: Ignore the bulb. o; It was taken by the Old Man with the first half of the branch.
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 6:36 pm
 Here be things you might need to know about Red Mangrove's friend and guardian, the Little Blue Heron. He's a rather simple-minded fellow - you might call him air-headed, but ‘silly’ will do just fine in most cases. Showing off your somewhat-superior vocabulary to him is a waste of time anyway – he seems to think that he’s quite a busy bird, even though his usual activities involve little more than wading through streams and the like, kicking the moss off rocks. Nevertheless he rarely indulges in long interactions, always wading off after a handful of minutes to continue making his way through the day’s moss-kicking schedule.
He seems to understand that he isn’t the most intelligent of creatures – far from it, really - but is quite satisfied with his lifestyle. He has carried on like this for quite a while – as an adolescent, when the rest of his species were pairing and mating, he’d decided that he didn’t quite understand what all the fuss was about. Never having been the most social bird, despite his friendliness, he gave up virtually all serious interaction with his own species, as well as others in the forest. Moss-kicking is a far more interesting pastime, anyway.
Note: Click for full image, please! <3
Profile
Nickname: None
Species: Little Blue Heron - Egretta caerulea
Age: 4 years
Length: 54cm
Wingspan: 112cm
Weight: 340g
Likes: Moss, water, streams and beaches, fish, sun.
Dislikes: Wet feathers, rain, cold, angry and territorial animals.
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 6:38 pm
Things happen. Lots of them - some of them are significant enough to put on a list, for easy reference. Such as this one! Milestones, occasions, meetings and confrontations, all that is important shall be here. As long as I'm not too lazy.
Roleplay and Journal Events
18 July '06 - The little blue heron goes to retrieve the branch, and saves/is saved by Red Mangrove.
OOC and Stereo's Events
18 July '06 - Stereo ties for Red Mangrove with Eun no anges, hence recieving half of the branch. o:
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 6:39 pm
Nomads do not gather belongings in their homes the way most would. Instead, they gather memories to take along with them when they set off again. Particularly important adventures shall be listed here.
Wanderings, Adventures and Explorations
None yet.
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 6:40 pm
Nevertheless, curious wanderers do pick up a few souveniers, no doubt. And perhaps recieve gifts from those they meet along the way? They cannot take much with them, but what they do take is precious.
Collection
Nothing yet.
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 6:41 pm
Images! Because words can only describe so much, here be pictures of Red Mangrove, the little blue heron, their friends and other related shazzam. All artwork belongs to it's respective owners, of course.
Image Gallery - Creatures of Cantumwood
x - Red Mangrove in branch stage
x - Red Mangrove in branch stage, certed
x - The little blue heron, watercolors.
Image Gallery - Miscellaneous
None
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 6:45 pm
I'll get to this when Mangrove and Heron meet someone. <3
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 6:48 pm
This is reseved, yes it is.
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 6:50 pm
This is reseved, yes it is.
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 6:51 pm
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 6:54 pm
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 6:57 pm
Entry #1 - In which the Little Blue Heron retrieves half of a mangrove branch.
(Flatsale entry)
Once upon a time there was a lot of silt… and a smidgeon of blue.
The silt - that stuff’s been around for quite a while now, and it’ll stick around for centuries yet. This is not to say it’s insignificant. It’s quite important really. But, you know – when something’s been important for such a long time, its importance in individual events such as ones involving smidgeons of blue picking their way through the silt in question begins to fade into little less than a trivial matter of location
Well, not trivial. But certainly far less important than the breathtaking, princely cobalt-feathered phoenix making his graceful way past the forests of prop roots.
- So said the little blue heron, to no one but himself. Except he wasn’t exactly princely, really. Or cobalt, or a phoenix - or breathtaking in any way. He was, however, little, blue, and definitely a heron. Which, when he thought about it, wasn’t too bad, was it? He wasn’t here for matters of breath-taking, after all - and as such his color, statue and species would serve him just as well as anything.
Admittedly, the heron’s intelligence was far lower than that of your average phoenix, plumage color regardless. But here were some situations in which no amount of intelligence would give you an advantage – this was almost certainly one of them. There were no clues, nothing to deduce and nothing to eliminate – in short, no reasoning would get you out of this one. Somewhere in the marsh there was a bit of mangrove, drowning under other mangroves that were most likely feeling lucky not to have drowned themselves. Not that the heron blamed them. Even he was smart enough to understand that drowning was not a favorite marsh pastime.
He didn’t think it was a favorite pastime anywhere, actually.
A surprisingly good piece of reasoning, that. But, as it has already been highlighted, reasoning was not a solution here. Especially if it was reasoning on quite an irrelevant level, as this realization was.
In any case – a stick in muddy water wasn’t much of a problem, in most situations. And if it was, it was an easy one to solve – so easy to solve that the heron, lifting and lowering his long stalky feet as he circled a large mangrove, forgot that there was a problem to solve in the first place.
This was most likely due to the fact there wasn’t one. Not yet, at least.
There was, however, a catch. This mangrove branch… he had to find it.
That was a problem. The Problem. It was, in fact, a predicament.
And as such, on a gray-skied afternoon (although the heron never bothered with time, and could never tell the difference between morning and evening, especially when the sun was hiding) there was in Cantum Marshes a lot of silt (which had always been there, and always will), a heron-shaped smidgeon of blue (which was indeed a heron, and was there often, but far less often than the silt-that-never-left), and a predicament (which might have happened before on several occasions. You never know. But if it did, chances were that it had not happened in this arrangement.)
There were also a lot of mangroves. But the heron supposed that they were included in the whole ‘predicament’ thing. It would be far less of a predicament without them, indeed – especially now that their roots were beginning to grow so thickly and deeply, tangled with the roots of their neighbors – effectively fencing off the heron’s way in almost every direction. There wasn’t even enough room to spread his blue wings open. Not that flying would do him any good. If you didn’t see a drowning stick under a layer of murky water and twisted gray roots, you wouldn’t very likely to be able to see it under a canopy of pointed mangrove leaves either.
The heron shook his blue head, three long feathers quivering and rising slightly from their usual position on the back of his neck. He rarely ran out of patience – never, actually, as far as he remembered. And if anything, he had a good memory. Perhaps this was because there was nothing else in his head, which left more than enough room for memories – but anyway, he wasn’t running out of patience now either. He was, however, growing quite discouraged. This was quite similar to losing your patience, yes, but you had to set your foot down and make distinctions somewhere.
The little blue heron did indeed set his foot down. And you can’t blame him for what happened next. You had to set your foot down somewhere, and even the smartest phoenix in the world (plumage color regardless) might very well have made the same blunder.
The mud gave under his leg, just slightly. That wasn’t the bad part – it was a bit of a jolt, but that had happened a few times already, and he was starting to get used to it. This time, however – his foot slipped into the depression. And it kept slipping forward, until the heron discovered that it was stuck – quite solidly under a low-lying root. Had he been a wolf, or a horse, or something of that size, he would have pulled himself out quite easily.
But he was a little blue heron, and he panicked instead.
Blue wings flared outward. Except… they couldn’t really flare anywhere. There just wasn’t enough room. He hit tall roots, he hit low branches – and he tripped.
Forward, backward, he didn’t know. All he could feel was water seeping into his feathers, unprepared as he was for the sudden dunk. He tilted his head upward, opening his beak to cry out for help – maybe, maybe there was someone else here, someone who was neither silt nor a blue heron? But all he got was a mouthful of muddy water. There wasn’t anything but muddy water all around him, now.
Muddy water, and something leafy brushing against his back. But he couldn’t worry about that now – he was drowning. Drowning!
He was drowning! Trashing, squeaking stupidly into the water. His eyes stung, but he didn’t dare close them, afraid that he might somehow end up pushing himself further away from the surface if he didn’t know where he was going. (He was actually quite smart regarding his own stupidity) And still his leg was pressed under the root. If he could just stand upright, he’d know better than to panic – he could wriggle his leg free with a clear enough head. But it was too late now - he couldn’t stand, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see.
Somewhere amid all this flailing, his waterlogged blue wing hit something, knocking it out of its place under another tangle of roots. He’d assumed it was a root itself – well, he hadn’t assumed anything really because he didn’t exactly care enough to assume, not right now. But if he did, he would indeed have dismissed it as another root. Until – until it started floating up to the surface, that is.
Roots don’t do that. Unless they’re broken roots – or, for that matter, broken branches.
A trashing blue heron wouldn’t figure that out, though. This one especially. But you didn’t need intelligence for instincts to kick into gear, and the moment he felt rough, wet bark brush against him he curved his neck around the floating object – holding on for dear life until the water around him calmed, along with his heartbeat.
He stood carefully, and with a sliver of newfound wisdom wriggled his leg until it slipped out of its trap. For a good few minutes after he just stood there, staring dumbly at the murky water – even more murky now that he’d raised the mud at the bottom – before he finally turned his trembling blue head towards the object that had, he realized now, saved his little blue life.
It was a mangrove branch, looking quite drowned actually.
That made two of them.
The heron closed his blue beak around a section of its bark, and clumsily dragged the branch out of the marsh.
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