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 Posted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 10:05 am
.:. Young Shrinekeep .:.
Username: Mtorolite
Lioness's Name: Quabula
Meaning: "kiss" in Zulu
Personality: Quabula is perhaps not as devoted to the Loa as some might like. At least not yet. She's still young and kind of carefree, she likes to live it up and she doesn't quite trust what people preach to her about the Loa. Someone (or something) will have to actually make her care more about her duties.
She does her duties very well- keeps everything tidy, is respectful, does everything correctly. Her heart just isn't really . . . in it.
Quabula likes male attention. She likes to flirt back, and doesn't worry about whose heart she is breaking when she flirts with another male five minutes later.
History: Quabula was born to a sickly liones passing through the pride's lands. The pride sheltered both for a few days, during which time the mother, closeted with her cub, told her that everything this pride seemed to believe in was garbage. Utter trash. Her mother died before Quabula was a month old, but she never forgot what her mother told her. Raised by the pride, she isn't really sure what to believe.
Prompt Number: 2
Prompt Response:
Quabula shook herself awake. She had the same dream a few times a month - her mother (a hazy figure at best - she had been left to the wild in one of the Dead Places, so the only image Quabala really had of her was a carcass) was whispering to her again. Whispering blasphemies to the Loa, with a hateful face, while the Loa themselves crept round and round her, threatening to engulf her totally. And Quabala could do nothing but sit and watch.
She circled for a few minutes, and tried to settle back down. The dream always made her skittery. She really wouldn't be able to focus tomorrow - but what was the point if her mother was right and the Loa were all hogwash?
Quabala heard one of the other Shrinekeeps shifting in their sleep and guiltily laid back down. They wouldn't like her thinking things like this. Besides, loyal service was the least she could to for the pride raising her.
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Posted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 10:45 am
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Posted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 10:48 am
.:. Old, blind Houngan .:.
Username: Adona Benedicta
Lion's Name: Dènye Fèt
Meaning: Haitian Creole - "Born last"
Personality: Dènye is an old, wise lion. Given his inability to see, an acquired trait, Dènye had used the experience to learn from his arrogance. When he was younger, he was certainly arrogant of his talent. Of his looks, of his heritage... Being blinded by Mawu's Will crippled him for a long time. He was angry, violent to a degree. With time, as he grew used to the world of sounds and feeling instead of sight, his anger has melted away. He's found a sort of calm in the darkness, a place for him to go to and relax. It has taken a great deal of time for Dènye to amass the knowledge that he's come to be known for. Every bump and every jerk along the way, he's come to learn from it. He sees life as an endless lesson of Mawu's design, and strives to achieve as close to Perfection as he can before he is taken by the Loa. On the outside, it seems there is very little that can make Dènye angry enough to snap. He takes everything with a calm, dignified air. It can be infuriating if you try to get a rise out of him, but he's since learned that living in anger isn't living at all.
History: Born the last of a large litter in the Pepo'porojo, Dènye Fèt was thought to be one of the smallest in his mother's litter. On the contrary, his size rivalled his eldest brother's. By the time they were adults, he was far bigger. This gave him a bit of arrogance, that he could not only survive being the runt of the litter but also grow to be larger than the cherished First Born, Premye Briye. He did not get along with Premye, though he loved his other siblings dearly.
It was a constant struggle between himself and his brother. He became Hougan, training under one of the wisest in the pride. Premye became a Bokor. They were in constant competition to one-up one another. No doubt, rumors spread that one was eventually going to kill the other. It was a bet on whom would win, of course, given both of their ambitions. While their family lived on in relative peace, the brothers fought over everything. Resources, who was stronger, who had a better connection to the Loa... It bordered on the ridiculous.
Some time after Dènye's mentor had passed, Premye began to get very sick. Dènye thought it was a trick, something to make him seem weak in front of the pride. He didn't visit his brother as his body wasted away once. When he woke up one morning and Premye was gone, he realized that he might have been wrong. The arrogant side of him merely thought that it was about time, that he was bound to win eventually and Premye had merely been a thorn in his side. But even so, he missed his brother.
Without his catalyst to fight, Dènye began to bicker among others within the pride. It wasn't out of malicious intent, but more out of boredom. He was so used to being challenged by Premye that without that challenge, he seemed lost. Unfortunately, his challenging of another, much smarter Bokor led to the loss of his eyes. Though the evidence is impossible to gain, Dènye knows he was poisoned one night. It was Mawu's Will alone that he did not die, but only lost his ability to see.
For a while, he lashed out at everyone. His mate, his family, even his daughter. It was the daughter whom decided she wouldn't take anymore. After a nearly violent argument, she left the pride. He never heard her voice again. His mate, soon, left him as well. The only lions left in his life were his family, because family was permanent. The loss of his mate and his only child seemed to put a cold bucket of ice on his burning anger. He became withdrawn, very nearly depressed.
His parents worried that he would succumb to the same fate that took their Premye, but that was not to be. Instead, though he no longer quarrelled with others in the pride, and he no longer spoke of himself as though he were Mawu's Chosen One, Dènye slowly began to live again. He began practicing his talents for the pride, summoning those who were needed and advising the new generation of Hougan. He grew used to the darkness around him, to living only with sounds and scents instead of sight. It was almost... comforting. The change did not happen over night; he still lashed out over his eyes for a while. But time has a tendency of healing things, and though his wounds may not be entirely healed over the loss of his own family, they have healed over his eyes.
Now, he is more content to summon Loa for the pride, or visit a single Hounfor he erected himself, a long time ago.
Prompt Number: 2
Prompt Response:
The bright burning sun began its descent as the old Hougan was finishing a summoning ritual for a young Poupe. He glanced to the sky, as though he could see the sun in all its glory, giving way to the dark of night. It had been months, even years, since he had the opportunity to see the sunset, but he could visualize the burning embers setting the sky afire with reds and oranges, licking up to meet the darkblueblack of the night sky. He returned his attention to the Poupe before him, no doubt staring blankly at the lion.
A tentative smile pulled at his maw as he spoke. "It is done; go now. Help the hunters." He rose off of the ground as the Poupe turned and began the trek to the hunting party. A well-needed blessing upon the party, to have one of the Loa on their side. Shaking dirt and dust from his fur, Dènye began to make his rounds to meet the Hougan around him. A few of the students had questions he gladly attended to. The warmth of the day was quickly giving way to the cold of the night, and so after the last question had been attended to, Dènye bid his fellow lions a good night, and began to walk the long way to a hidden Hounfor.
Though no one else would know, there were no bones buried at this particular Hounfor. Though there were a few femurs and paw bones decorating the site, they did not belong to the spirit whose Hounfor this belonged to. In reality, Dènye didn't even know if the spirit was dead, or still walked the Rogue Lands, alone and lost. The walk was long, and gave his mind the time it needed to settle out of the day's rituals and into a calm, serene place.
His paws had walked this trail many times; winding around the Hounfor of family and friends of other pridemembers, careful not to step in a mound of freshly dug earth. Though his eyes could not guide him, his senses and his knowledge of the area did. Near the edge of the burial ground, the lone Hounfor there stood out. He sat before it, head tilted towards the dirt as though he could see all of the little bones and gems that glittered the side. It was truly a sight to behold; he spent many years adding beauty to the Hounfor of his daughter.
Tonight would be no exception. He crouched down and placed the rock he'd found gently in the mound of dirt, beside two bones. He hadn't found it on his own, for he didn't trust his senses that well. A Medsen Fey had been tasked with finding the gem for him, though he did not explain what it was for. That particular Medsen Fey seemed to know, regardless, and did not fight the old Hougan on it.
He leaned back after placing the stone, and smiled quietly, closing his eyes. He could recall so easily the argument that had sent his daughter running to the Rogue Lands. It was a stupid, petty argument, made only the worse by the loss of his eyes. He'd long since gotten over that, but it did not make his daughter come home any sooner.
No words were spoken as Dènye sat in front of the Hounfor. No words needed to be said. The regret and sadness he felt went far beyond words. For most of the night, Dènye sat at the Hounfor, as he did every night. If he was expecting her to rise out of thin air, it didn't happen. It never did, and it never would. But he held out a small flicker of hope that, one day, she would come home, and he could give her all the pretty things he had decorated her Hounfor with.
It wouldn't make up for the things he'd said, but it would be a start.
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Posted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 10:57 am
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Posted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 11:23 am
.:. Wise Medsen Fey .:.
Username: Quiftan
Lion's Name: Lovatiarba [Lov-uht-ee-arbuh]
Meaning: "Lovat" A grayish blend of colors, esp. of green. "iarbă" means herb in romanian.
Personality: Kind, helpful and maybe a bit abnormal would be the first words to come to mind at a first impression. He might ask questions or point things out that seem unnecessary, or even shady. He can come off as having ulterior motives at times... But those who know him better will come to realize that all the little weird socially-unacceptable things he does revolve around his occupation. (Silly example: "What are you wearing tonight?" it might sound like he's being a perv and hitting on an under-aged lady, but in reality he's making sure the materials of whatever she's wearing doesn't react with the herbs/medication he applied earlier that day.) Despite his untrustworthy appearance, Lovat's intentions are good and honest.
History: Lovatiarba was the only child of two very talented medsen fey. He grew up absorbing the knowledge of his practice every day, the option of any other occupation never even crossed his mind. Lovat's primary interest mostly concerned remedies for wounds and illnesses, but he was always willing to study poisons and concoctions for rituals as well. His father had been trying to support the pride's bond with the neighboring baboon troop for a long time, but it was obvious he was struggling... this was something Lovat was determined to improve as he got older. But with experience he realized why his dad was struggling. Even a kind-hearted offering of gifts wouldn't tame them... and they'd learn to take advantage of the poor young lion. Lovat continues to struggle to this day, yet still he's learned a few methods and tricks over the years to get them to cooperate without a fuss. His approach might be seen as a little (or a lot) questionable , which why he's not willing to share them so easily.
Prompt Number: 2
Prompt Response: The ivory bones scattered across the earth as the green lion tossed them with the hopes of having his simple question answered. However, upon inspection of the bones, Lovat was puzzled to find that the message displayed was not an answer at all... but rather directions... or so it seemed. With a subtle frown and an inquisitive grunt, Lovat gently gathered his sacred bones and returned to his den site. A bowl of fresh dlo benit was resting beside the mouth of his den, and the experienced lion watched the torn green herbs dance gracefully through the water as the bones were submerged. It was a ritual that the meticulous lion preformed with ease.
What could that message have meant? Lovat personally had never seen anything like it... but there was always the possibility that he misread the spirit's message. But now was not the time to be doubtful. Lovat understood how severe the consequences might be if he neglected to obey the spirit's wishes. He left his den without hesitation, taking the path the bones had seemed to point towards. Wondering what he was supposed to be looking for, Lovat directed his attention to the earth. Maybe he was supposed to discover a precious rare herb?
The lion walked until he felt it was necessary to stop and dip his head to inspect a peculiar plant. The intricate glass lense on his face allowed him to see things with more clarity than any average feline. With it's gift he could determine the species of the plant, its' quality, and its' health with ease. Lovat was thankful for this gift from his father, passed on from generations as one proved to be skillful enough to posses it. Lovat quickly came to the conclusion that the herbs he was inspecting were infested with insects, not at all suitable for any kind of concoctions he can produce... so he moved on.
Something out of the ordinary caught Lovat's attention...
.:. Secretive Medsen Fey .:.
Username: Fea Line
Lioness's Name: Bambara
Meaning: Name of an ethnic group in Mali, as well as name for their language.
Personality: Schizophrenic. Bambara, since a very young age, has always had strange voices in her head telling her to do things, or not to trust something/someone. They will make her believe something to the point of it becoming reality. For example, if she truly believes her skin is burning as if it were on fire, her skin will actually begin to burn. However, her schizophrenia can be controlled....to an extent. Apart from the voices in her head, Bambara is a quite individual, on the account of the fact that she is mute, and will hardly do anything in public. She is very wary of females, but loves her job and does it well. However, since she can not speak, she communicates through body language, grunts and gestures, or writing with her claws in the dirt.
History: When Bambara was born, not but weeks of age, just old enough to open her eyes and begin to think and act for herself, she seemed like any ordinary cub.... at least as far as anyone could tell. But Bambara was different. She had companions....someone always there with her, talking to her. She couldn't see these companions, no. They were not like her sister, her mother or her father. In fact, they weren't there at all. But she could hear them just as well. As if they were right beside her....talking to her....guiding her....telling her what to do. And it was at this young age that they began to manipulate her life.
The first time she laid eyes upon it, that long pink appendage of flesh oozing from her mothers mouth in such slow motion she could have sworn the world stood still, Bambara felt shivers course down her spine. That rough pink thing, with barbs as sharp as needles, coming closer to her...ever closer. The voices screamed inside her head to run, but she couldn't. She squirmed with all her might, but it was of no use. Her mother was strong, far stronger than her. And she laughed. That sweet...innocent chuckle. Her mother was always chuckling. "Don't squirm dear Bara." her voice rang in loud and just as clear as the others. Using that silly nickname she had chosen for her daughter. "It's just a bath my sweet." the voice rang again. But Bambara wasn't fooled. 'Run!' they hissed. 'Flee! Fast as you can!' another spat. 'The devil...the devils almost upon you!' one wailed while another screeched. 'The tongue! It burns the flesh!' 'Acid!' 'Fire! Liquid flames!' Each one screaming repeatedly in her ears. Their voices so loud, she could hardly hear her own heartbeat above the racket.
And then it struck.
The needle like barbs pricking into her skin. The coarse length of flesh scrapping its way across her head and down her back. Her skin began to tingle, and with each stroke, it became worse and worse, until her skin began to burn with such an intensity. The young cub had never known or seen the existence of fire, but she was convinced, it could not feel as worse as she did now. She knew right then and there, as her tiny brows furrowed and her pink eyes narrowed, that she must rid her mother of this thing they call a tongue, and spare her, as well as herself, the agony it brings forth.
But with her small size, her attempts went in vain. She was not strong enough to resist her mother's strength, nor could she outright tell her mother to remove her tongue. 'She'd laugh at you!' the voices teased. 'She'd call you crazy....and your not crazy.' another would coo as his deep bellowing voice pounded in her chest. And while they soothed her each time she was exposed to such torture, such torment, at the same time they began to tear her apart from her family. No longer was her mother...her mother. Her sister was not her sister, and her father....what little he was around, was certainly not her father. They were possessed. Yes, that was it. The tongues. It was the tongues. It was always the tongues, from day one! They were the source of it! Of all the pain and misery! The burning, the aching. Why her father was always absent. Why her sister was so doubtful. And why her mother was so....alone.
Little by little, as Bambara grew, she watched her family. She took care of them when need be. She held her mother when she cried on dark moonless nights. She listened to her sister talk about her dreams of one day starting a family of her own with a lion who would always be there unlike dad. And all the while, Bambara plotted. Plotted to free her mother and sister from the demons they never knew they had. Each time their mouth opened and closed, she could see the flesh laying inside...in its comfortable den....waiting for its chance to inflict agony.
Finally, one night, when Bambara had reached her adolescent stage, her mother came to her....in tears. But this time was different. "My sweet....sweet little Bara." she sobbed, her voice cracked and choked by her own grief. "Come...let me bathe you....just once....to remember the joys of motherhood when I had it...." she pleaded, and nuzzled into her daughters neck. Her tongue forcing its way through Bambara's fur. She cringed. She could wait no longer. If she were to strike, it had to be now.
Turning on her mother in an instant, using her new found strength and taking advantage of how weak her mother had grown, she pinned the lioness to the ground. Growls rumbled deep in her chest. The cheering voices drowned out any plea her mother made. Pushing one paw down hard on her throat, she forced her mother to open her mouth, and thats when she struck. Zapping a paw into her mother's jaws, faster than lighting, she latched her claws into the base of her mother's tongue....and proceeded to pull. It took effort, as the demon was latched on tight, and was obviously not going to give up without a fight. Bambara was persistent. She tugged and tugged until she could hear the flesh beginning to rip. What she did not hear was her sister, as she came crashing into Bambara's side, tackling her to the ground. But Bambara never let go. As she came pounding to the ground, her claws ripped the tongue from her mothers mouth, and it came flying with her, blood and flesh melting into her claws as a grin of victory spread across her muzzle. Lightning flashed over head. She could see her mother writing on the ground. It would be over soon. The demon was gone, Bambara made sure of that as she tossed the tongue from her claws. Her sister, however, she still remained...and with a tongue nestled inside her mouth.
Spurred on by rage, and her companions screaming inside her head, she waited little to catch her breath before she sprang at her sister. The fight was no easier, and without the help of a charging body, Bambara had to tug harder, longer, and with all her might just to rip the pink barbed mass from her sisters mouth. But she did it. Finally, after what seemed like ages, the tongue came slithering out of her sisters mouth and onto the ground. She had done it. Bambara had won. But her mother and sister.....they had stopped moving. 'Their just sleeping. A rest well earned.' the deep voice boomed in her ear. He was clearly the dominant one. 'But your fight is not over yet.....go...into the water...look. he coaxed her, as she padded to a small puddle of collected rain water. As she stood painting, rain dripping off her coat like leaves from a tree, she could see it. The demon. There it lay, snug as a bug right in her own mouth. How could she not have known?! All those years....and she had one too?! Blinded by fury, Bambara was not going to let herself be tamed by this monstrosity, so she did the only thing she could think of doing. Sinking her claws deep into the flesh of her own tongue, she jerked her head violently, and ripped the tongue from her mouth. A loud gurgling screech left her body.
It felt good. It felt so good to win. So grand, that while she stood, blood came gushing from her jaws and a smirk spread wider across her muzzle. When her body finally began to give in, she slouched to the ground and fell into a slumber. A sleep so deep, she had never felt this rested since....well since she was born. And thats when he found her.....
Something out of the ordinary caught Lovat's attention. The unmistakable scent of blood, but it wasn't a prey beast's blood. Lovat scanned the distance with his glass-eye closed, the thing only got in the way when he tried to see far away. He noticed two lying lions, and swiftly carried himself across the grassy earth to investigate. Lovat knew a fatal wound when he saw one, and these two lionesses had already drowned in their own blood before he arrived. And the loss... their tongues... gone.
A flicker of movement from the corner of his eye caused Lovat to turn his head. A dark lioness, bloodstained from the battle, was gazing into the water, and gasped at the sight of her own reflection. Hesitant to confront an allegedly violent lioness, Lovat only stood at a distance to watch as she removed her tongue and tossed it aside like a spoiled fish. Lovat's yellow eyes narrowed at the female as she seemed to screech her victory and collapse. It was then the male decided it was safe to approach.
At a first glance it would appear that the young female was possessed. Quickly the wise lion inspected the still body, and catching the scent of her breath he came to the conclusion that she had not inhaled or consumed any herbs that would induce such a violent possession. He didn't recognize her as part of the pride either, making it clear that she was suffering from a mental illness rather than a vengeful loa. Now that Lovat seemed confident that he understood what was going on he could apply the proper treatments... but first he had to take on the difficult task of carrying the fallen lioness to his den site before she inhaled the puddle of blood gathering in her maw.
Bambara awoke in a strange place and to many strange smells. Her body felt strong again, the pain was gone.....and so were the voices. As she blinked open her eyes, she came face to face with the green male, his eye magnified by the funny object hovering over it. He began to explain, in his odd but soothing voice, that he had taken her in to care for her, and that these herbs and liquids would make her all better. And over time, they did. Her voices spoke to her less, were substantially quieter, her rage had subsided, and she found she had quite the gift for mixing potions, healing or other wise. And while it took time for everyone to warm up to her, eventually they did.....at least somewhat. They began to grow suspicious of her, of her secretive unsocial ways, of why a male was training her, a female. But she didn't know this. Another unfortunate side effect of her condition, Bambara was blinded to the wary eyes....and If not kept on her 'meds', would not stop to eradicate a tongue from an unsuspecting creature's mouth.
Lovat was aware of her condition. Whenever he would speak to her, he would open his mouth as little as possible, which might make it difficult for others to understand. He would also turn his head when an exposure of flesh was unavoidable, ensuring that it remained out of sight. This habit carried on throughout his social life, whether Bambara accompanied him or not. He also tries to distract Bambara if ever a tongue would come into view, hoping to spare her and the pride from a violent outburst from the crazed feline's illness.
Till this day, Bambara hates to do certain activities in public, like eating, because of her missing tongue. The voices in her head have lead her to believe that if she opens her mouth around others, their demon tongues will leap into her mouth and possess her all over again.
Lovat keeps Bambara's secret for the sake of her and the pride. If they had seen what he had witnessed, their ignorance might convince them that she is a host of the loa, and wrongfully create her into a poupe. An event like that could spell disaster and tragedy for each party involved, and Lovat wanted to prevent that from happening with all his power. It was a heavy burden... a risky one. But Lovat was willing to take it. The sacred bones didn't lead him to Bambara for nothing, after all.
What's her secret?: She believes tongues are evil and seeks to rid them from everyone she meets.
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Posted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 11:24 am
burning_eyes Now I'm going to be anxious for the rest of the year xD Oh and
I'm advertising!
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Posted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 2:02 pm
.:. Young Shrinekeep .:.
Username: Sergeant Sargent
Lioness's Name: Mara
Meaning: Stain in Sotho
Personality: Mara carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. Whenever she sees someone in pain or in trouble she has to help somehow, even though her shyness often gets in the way. Socially she's only about as experienced as a very young cub with no brothers or sisters, so she often misses subtle social cues and speaks too honestly when it would be better to tell a white lie. But she's always quick to apologize. Before she became accepted into the pride she was very quiet and secretive. Now much more talkative, she's still prefers to talk about the spirits rather than about herself. Nothing can shake her faith in the voodoo religion.
History: Mara appeared on the boarder near the shrinekeepers lands not too long ago with dirty fur and little weight on her bones. At first she wouldn't talk about where she came from, saying it's better if nobody knew, but after the shrinekeepers fed her and gave her water, Mara finally confessed.
She was cursed!
Her first pride (a highly superstitious group) believed that Mara was tainted by being born during a storm which they believed was caused by her mother's labor pains, a terrible sign. Her mother, who was also afflicted with the taint, became furious with Mara and left when she was just a cub. With her mother gone the pride took pitty on Mara. She was allowed to stay in a small section of her pride's territory, far away from the regular dens, to protect the pride from her bad luck. Her only contact with the pride came through a solitary hunter who visited her once each day, usually only for a few hours, to feed and teach her to hunt, yet even he regarded her as an aberration. (The hunter was actually her father, but Mara never knew. He was not affected by the taint for he had not carried her in his body.)
When she was strong enough Mara was chased from the pride. She wandered around by herself for a few weeks and eventually found a new pride. They found her ways a little strange, for they were a more practical pride than the one she knew, but accepted her in spite of her quirks. Then strange things started to happen.
First, the watering hole dried up much earlier than usual. When Mara saw this she immediately acted as though it was her fault and begged the pride for forgiveness. Knowing that she was a little odd, they simply patted her on the head and assured her that she'd done nothing wrong. But then, while Mara was on a hunting trip with the other females, one of the huntresses was injured by a zebra. Mara again acted as though it was her fault. Clearly the curse was behind this! The pride was beginning to feel a little spooked by her. When the cubs started claiming (perhaps only for fun, perhaps for some other reason) that bad things happened to them when Mara was around. Some of the adults also began to suspect. When Mara was asked to leave she left in tears, but did not hesistate despite her anguish. She knew it was for the good of the pride.
When she finished her tale the shrinekeepers took her to Mama Simbi. After Mama Simbi 'removed' the curse Mara fell to her knees and pledged her life to the voodoo ways, becoming a shrinekeeper.
Prompt Number: One
Prompt Response: Mara placed the five black feathers on the Hounfor. Using her paw, she gingerly nudged them to the center of the mound and straightened them until she felt satisfied, softly humming to herself as she worked. As she lifted her head her humming suddenly stopped. Someone was coming this way. Was it...?
Yes, it was. Mara's ears drooped. Every day that flirty poupe visited the shrinekeeper's lands and he always seemed to want to talk to her. At first Mara thought he was just being silly, like a cub pining for attention, but as his antics continued it slowly dawned on Mara that this young male wanted something more. Now that she understood what he was really after, his presence made her anxious. She simply wasn't ready, might never be ready, for that kind of affection.
And yet she liked him. She liked his goofy nature and carefree attitude. In fact she admired these traits, for she felt too self-conscious to express them herself. Sometimes when he was around she didn't know whether the pounding in her chest was out of fear or something else.
It was all too confusing. Even though she liked him she wanted him to give her space. Mara turned to go, hoping to avoid these conflicted emotions in front of the poupe, but as she turned her back she glanced over her shoulder and happened to see him looking right at her. Fear ceased Mara's legs. She'd been spotted! Mara drew a deep breath and leapt away from the mounds, running deeper into the shrinekeeper's territory.
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Posted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 3:00 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 3:57 pm
I HAVE EDITED MY CUSTOM CONTEST ENTRY!
I changed the Reference Image and the Description field to match the new look. Nothing huge!
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Posted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 4:09 pm
I have a question related to one of the questions in the FAQ. If we do a custom concept, are we allowed to have that lion be related to one of the lions in the contest? (I wanted my concept lion to be distantly related to the Old Caplata. They happen to look similar. XD)
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Posted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 4:15 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 4:16 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 5:18 pm
.:. Flirty Poupe .:.
Username: Mtorolite
Lion's Name: Isisu
Meaning: "Stomach" in Zulu
Personality: Isisu is actually a pretty nice guy - or he was until he hit adolescence, and people are hoping once he grows out of it he will be again. His greatest strength is his tenacity. When he was very young, he was determined to do well, and he did. Once the hormones hit, he was determined to find himself a girlfriend, and, well, he's working on it. Very enthusiastically.
Isisu really DOES believe in the Loa and he does try to take his rank seriously . . . there are just so many lovely femmes around. So many . . . it boggles the mind. He flashes between being a charming jerk to a complete dork, depending on how prepared he is and how well he knows the lady he's talking to . . . he doesn't talk to a lot of guys.
History: He never knew his parents, so he doesn't miss them, and as a juvenile, he was considered one of the most promising Poupe's of the pride. He hasn't gotten any of the Shrinekeep's in the "family way" yet, so he's not a complete jerkwad . . . but he's going to have to settle down or shape up or no one is going to care how good his spiritual connection is, just cause they can't get through a ceremony without him hitting on everything that can bear cubs.
Prompt Number: 3
Prompt Response:
Isisu had been yelled at - again - for not taking things seriously, and at the old Houngan's orders went to meditate on the Loa and what it meant to serve them and the pride. So he did. He found a quiet spot on the outskirts of the pride, and tried to empty his mind of everything not spiritual.
Then he heard it. The clear, bell-like sound of female voices - Shrinekeeps if he was not mistaken. He had a thing for Shrinekeeps. So dutiful. Not bossy. Charming, and so very clearly female. Delicate and delicious. All thought of duty and the Loa went out of his head.
Isisu scrambled to recline in a better pose - something that would show off the mane that was starting to come in - and hide his still scrawny back legs. He puffed out his chest, then paused, licked a paw, and ran it through his fur, sweeping it into an untidy mess. Now he would look bad- a$$ and sexy (he actually looked like a total dweeb).
"Hello ladies~"
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Posted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 5:32 pm
Sergeant Sargent I have a question related to one of the questions in the FAQ. If we do a custom concept, are we allowed to have that lion be related to one of the lions in the contest? (I wanted my concept lion to be distantly related to the Old Caplata. They happen to look similar. XD)
Yeah, I'll allow that. Her lineage goes pretty far back in the pride, so that's fine. XD
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Posted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 7:11 pm
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Reply
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