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 Posted: Tue Sep 02, 2008 6:53 pm
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Posted: Tue Sep 02, 2008 7:00 pm
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Posted: Tue Sep 02, 2008 7:30 pm
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Kijani'laana
Name meaning: "green curse," Swahili
Known nicknames: Kija, Kij, Kijani
Parents: Jaddis [x] and Hai'maita [x]
Siblings: Waya'penzi, Popo'damu, Njaa'sugu, Janikiwiti, Makovu
Pride: Rogue
Seer: Yes!
Past stages: [cub] [juvenile] [adolescent]
Personality: Kijani is a pragmatist, a survivor. She's grown up competing with five siblings for scant resources and isn't about to let all that work go to waste for the sake of anyone else, no matter what the circumstances. Ordinarily that wouldn't be a half-bad thing, and she could've grown up to be a fine young lioness - but the day she found out about her mother's curse was the day everything went wrong.
She was still young and stupid, and concluded that her own selfish need to live at all costs meant there was something horribly wrong with her; it's proved a hard notion to shake. Since then, she's both idolized and hated her mother, Hai'maita - idolized her for being so willing to sacrifice herself, and hated her because she sets an example that Kijani can never live up to. The latter emotion she's always been careful not to show.
So all in all, though she wasn't a half-bad cub at first, she hasn't exactly improved with age. Her twisted sort of inferiority complex has had plenty of time to fester by now, and generally when she's not morose she's brash, short-tempered, and cynical. Paradoxically, the older she gets the less she values her own life, so she tends to throw herself in dangerous situations just for the heck of it and has become a bit of a battle-hardened adrenaline junkie.
At some point she's going to decide that if she can't be the heroine of her tale, she might as well be the villain and try to enjoy it. That should be uh, interesting.
Family history: Never cross a god.
And especially, never cross one with the power to make you really, really regret it. No matter how bad your day's been, no matter how strong you think you are, it's just not a good idea.
And that's where our story begins. Jaddis, God of Famine, isn't the easiest to anger, but a rogue named Hai'maita managed it, insulting everything he stood for - and he laid a terrible curse on her. She would bear six children by him, and then Hai would live a mother's nightmare: feed her cubs, or feed herself. Every bite of food in her mouth would take one out of theirs, and when the cubs were born, she quickly realized she just couldn't do that to them.
Perhaps one day she'll find Jaddis again, and persuade him to remove the curse before she starves to death... |
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Posted: Tue Sep 02, 2008 7:34 pm
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In spite of the ribs showing through her coat, your Mom had done the best she can to hide her curse from you and your siblings. However, you manage to find out about the curse. How did you find out? How do you feel about it? What, if anything, do you plan to do about it?
----------------------------------------
How had she not noticed?
“Mama? Um… I saved you the heart. It’s the best bit.”
Her mother had told them about her war with the vultures. How they had pecked and clawed at what they thought was a carcass just too stubborn to stop moving, and she had retaliated by decimating their numbers, until one morning she had faced down the fierce-beaked flock and made her Pact. I leave you some meat, you leave me be.
It had never occurred to her that the dullness of her mother’s coat was no part of that illusion of death walking.
It had never occurred to her that the ribs delicately outlined against corpse-pale green were real.
“But it’s the best bit, and I saved it all for you.”
There had been few such stories over the moons; each one, though often flawed and imperfectly recalled, was a gem to be treasured in their hard lives. Stories about Hai’s own life, stories she had learned from wandering lions, even one she had made up specially for them. But never would she tell them the story of how they were born, no matter how much they pleaded. All Kijani knew was that her father’s name was Jaddis, and he was a god.
Had known.
“You can’t not be hungry, Mama. I’ve been watching, and you haven't eaten anything all day.”
It wasn’t a bad life, overall. With six mouths to feed and only one huntress, things could be lean at times. But they had each other for company, and that was enough.
And then, in a rare show of generosity in a growing young cub, she had made the mistake.
“…Mama? When was the last time you did eat?”
Cursed. The word shivered across Kijani’s mind like the death rattle of a dying wildebeest, and the vultures circling inward to claim the spoils. Her mother was cursed to be constantly hounded by the cries of famine, to know no nourishment if the cubs the god had given her were to live. There had been no love in their creation, only pride and spite.
No love, and yet love had come somehow. Love shone through the cracked and splintered pain in Hai’s eyes even now as her paws slowed, muscle wasted from her body. And now Kijani’laana sat still as a stone, watching carefully for the first time the pale form of the lioness as her children squabbled over the remains of the kill. The cub’s dark eyes were unusually serious for such a young age, and sad.
Until now, Hai had just been… well, her mother, an unquestioned source of nourishment and love. She had never before realized the strength of will it must take just to keep going, bring down prey and watch her cubs fill their bellies, force herself to keep from tearing into the beautiful red meat beside them.
And then, out of the unexpected love and understanding that welled up in Kijani, came the last thought.
Kijani was no hero. She was not courageous, or brave, or self-sacrificing. She was no hero, and she knew hunger all too well. If Kijani had been the one cursed so, she would have fed herself, leaving the cubs to die. And there was nothing she could do to help now; Hai would have to break the curse on her own. She was nothing.
It was a mean little thought, but there it was.
Her eyes narrowed, and she ripped away at skin and flesh until bone cracked between her teeth.
Nothing. |
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Posted: Tue Sep 02, 2008 7:50 pm
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Tamaa
Name meaning: "hope," Swahili
Known nicknames: ...Tamaa?
Parents: Father, name unknown. Mother unknown
Siblings: Three sisters, names unknown.
Pride: Rogue, Zitomoya's ragtag group
Seer: Yes! He has absolutely no idea of this, though, and his powers are fairly weak.
Past stages: [adolescent]
Personality: Tamaa takes idealism almost to the point of idiocy. He's intensely loyal to his friends and refuses to believe anything bad of them despite all evidence to the contrary. Even if you did manage to prove it to him that things aren't as they seem by dint of extreme effort - and most usually give up because what's the point? - likely he'd stick around anyway, convinced that all he needed to do was unearth that last speck of goodness and bring it to light.
He's not stupid, don't get that wrong, though more than a few people are happy to dismiss him as such. Tamaa can be surprisingly shrewd at times. But most of the time he prefers to see the world through rose-tinted glasses, and his self-deceiving abilities are so strong that he's managed to hook up with a pack of scheming, self-serving animals - er, except Zito, of course. Of course! - and manages to act as if they're all one big happy family.
Ironically, nearly all his visions are nightmares. So far they've only happened during his sleep, and he barely remembers them when he wakes up (lucky for him, eh?). By this point everyone's just used to kicking the hyena kid out of the way when he starts whining and thrashing about.
History: Read here - it's not in here because it's just a biiit long. I'll summarize it here at some point for you lazy folks. |
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Posted: Tue Sep 02, 2008 7:53 pm
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Sethunya
Name meaning: "flower," Tswana
Known nicknames:
Parents: mother Matufani (bonded to Bilahofu), father Fahamu (bonded to Abadi)
Siblings: Shupavu (Peponi), Makali (Haraka), Mawingu (Afya), Mbingu (Tani)
Pride: Aka'mleli
Seer: No
Past stages: [cub] [juvenile] [adolescent]
Personality: Before the earthquake that fractured the Aka'mleli, Sethunya lived with her parents and four brothers from a previous litter. But on that terrible day her father and one of her brothers were killed in an ensuing landslide, and since making her own halting way back to the pride she hasn't heard anything of her other kin.
She's far from the only member of the pride to have lost loved ones, of course, and has reached out to form new relationships since then - or rather, people have reached out to her and she's let herself be drawn in. But the months of struggling to survive on her own in a strange new world left their mark. Once a rambunctious cub who was constantly making trouble for her older brothers, now she's quiet and self-contained, focused on making herself useful in rebuilding the pride. She has the same quick sense of humor - which often surprises lions who didn't know her well before the earthquake - though it tends to be more ironic than before. But new experiences make her nervous, and though she won't admit it she does not like vultures. At all.
Currently the problem most on her mind, however, is that of an avian companion. She's fast approaching adulthood and hungers for a feathered confidante to fill the void left by her family. Sure, she's got friends, but she wants something more, something all for herself: an idealized companion who will be devoted to her, and whom she can devote herself to in return. It's hard to watch cubs younger than herself who have already received that honor.
Oh, and she also has color-sound synesthesia, and ascribes more significance than she probably should to the sound and color of others' voices.
[Because I don't want to screw the poor girl over too much, I'm gonna wait to RP her again until I manage to get that bird of hers, because it's unusual not to have one by adulthood. No luck at custom spots thus far, though.]
History: The only cub in her litter and the only girl in the family, her scout and hunter parents hoped Sethunya would be some respite after her four rowdy older brothers. But as if determined to be contrary, she soon established herself as a fierce tomboy, always sneaking off to spy on the siblings she admired.
The morning of the earthquake, her mother and all but one of her brothers were elsewhere. She, her father, and her remaining brother fled their den as the tremors started to spread - straight into the path of a landslide. Of the three of them, she was the only one who survived. Nursing a broken ankle and lost in the strange new landscape that had replaced her home, it was months before Sethunya managed to make it back to what was left of the pride. She's heard nothing of her mother and brothers since then. |
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Posted: Tue Sep 02, 2008 7:53 pm
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Posted: Sat Sep 13, 2008 1:03 pm
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Mzuka'erevu
Name meaning: "clever spirit," Swahili
Known nicknames: Mzuka
Parents: Kizuka [x] and Ushaufu [x]
Siblings: Natumaini, Junni'enu, Sarabi, Hewa'takata, Fasahi'tupu, Kachero (plus one littermate and 8 older siblings, coming later)
Pride: Umande'mfuni (Mistweavers)
Seer: Yes! It'll be late to manifest, though.
Past stages: [cub] [juvenile]
Personality: Though not above playing the odd prank if the occasion calls for it, Mzuka's an earnest and practical cub on the whole. Sometimes he romps around with his siblings like any other cub his age, while other times he prefers to simply sit by himself and watch. Whether playing or not, part of him is always cataloging reactions and making inferences, listening to not just what people say, but how they say it. At the same time he also loves clever wordplay, speaking in riddles and hidden meanings when he’s feeling particularly devious, or just smiling to himself when he comes up with a witty pun.
Family history: It was the very day Kizuka returned to her pride's home with her mate Triv'an and young daughter Kimaji that she met Ushaufu. He was a cub then, though he says he'd been so for several mortal lives and had much of the adult about him. Thinking to while away the time with a little game, the godling attached himself to their group - but all too soon it became far more serious than he could have ever anticipated.
He grew at an alarming rate, both in size and in love for the Mistweaver and her daughter. Triv'an had suddenly slipped away in the night shortly after they came to the desolate, drought-stricken land, leaving the way clear... But when Ushaufu realized with horror that he was in love with the lioness who had taken him in as a cub, he ran. And Kizuka, stricken by her own discovery of her love for the god, followed.
Finally they found each other, and there was plenty of shock on either side at the revelation that their feelings were mutual. Since then things have been rough, but they've been together, and now that the rains have returned with Masika's coronation, the jungle is growing to resemble its old half-remembered vibrancy, and life improves by the day. |
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Posted: Sat Sep 13, 2008 1:16 pm
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Mzuka: Denial"Riddle me this, and riddle me that,"
said Fighting Prawn to the Cat in the Hat.
"You're out of the bag, but in a real fix
'cause somebody's added sports cars to the mix.
Scratch and sniff, it's blueberry, a potent aroma;
try and riddle me why, though there’ll be no diploma.
From the pan to the fire, cow's called out the liar
who said hey diddle diddle, three beans from your buyer,
so the cats and the mice wouldn't come out to play.
But the lions weave their mists all night and all day
to catch fire in webs spun from water ice cold,
then they scatter like hares carrying eggs laid in gold.
Fee fie fo fum, now let's beat out the drum
to the land's throbbing heart, and the new rains will come.
I see by your face you're intrigued by my game,
So before we must part I'll tell you its name:
Mzuka’erevu."
----------------------------------------
The buzzard’s wings were broken, ragged black feathers half-concealing the sickly white of shattered bone. Curiously, not a drop of blood stained them, but the creature keened in terrible agony, its cries enough to break the heart of any listener – had there been anyone there to listen. But there was not, and the only answer it received from the mist-shrouded darkness was its own plaintive echo.
It waited, breath rasping through tightened lungs. Though for what – or who – remained to be seen.
“A seer?”
Mzuka looked at his parents blankly, green-tipped tail twitching slightly at the end. “How do you know?” Seers were things from stories, mortals with awesome powers to see the past, present, and future in a glance – not half-grown cubs with a penchant for puns and the odd prank. He was simply too normal to be anything like that.
Though perhaps... he thought he knew what this was about. He'd seen the looks of surprise sometimes when he mentioned something he apparently wasn't supposed to know about yet.
“Sorry.” He grinned half-heartedly, abashedly. “I’m not. A Seer, I mean.” He knew they’d be surprised, so he went on quickly. “I’ve never seen stuff that wasn’t there. I just notice things. I pay attention, like who looks skinnier than usual, whose ears go flat with disapproval whenever Maji walks by, you know? That’s not Seeing, it’s just seeing… Oh, you know what I mean.” The twitching tail beat a faster pace against the ground however much he tried to conceal his growing bewilderment at the whole idea, though the way normally smooth and articulate Mzuka was struggling for words would have betrayed him regardless. Too many confusing emotions were starting to roil in his stomach, smothering his voice. “I’m just seeing what’s there, not what isn’t. Anybody can do that.”
“It’s all right, though.” He tried a careless grin, and it almost managed to convince himself. He would’ve liked the idea of being a seer, of being special and all. Of having secret knowledge that he could use to weave nets of words around others’ minds and leave them reeling in his wake – or not, as he chose.
Although maybe it wouldn't always be that great, come to think of it. Sometimes he wondered whether Muhali was a seer. She seemed simple enough at first, but sometimes she'd said some weird things, and weren’t seers supposed to be half in another world all the time? The one chance he’d had to talk to her on her infrequent visits was like this big never-ending series of riddles within riddles, like trying to fit a full skeleton together using a jumbled up heap from parts of five different animals. It was fun in a strange sort of way, piecing together the half-truths and nonsense, but he wouldn't want to be in her head however happy she seemed. She was half-oblivious to everything.
Suddenly he couldn’t stay here any longer. His parents didn’t seem particularly upset, that part of his mind which was always watching noted involuntarily – more puzzled, if anything – but he refused to listen to it for once. That was probably just ‘cause the news hadn’t sunken in yet, and he definitely didn’t want to be around when it did. He ducked his head away from their twin gazes and shuffled his green paws awkwardly for a moment.
“I… I jus’ remembered I was goin’ to ask Aunt Momo something,” the little cub muttered, and ran off before they could object. Mzuka couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in their eyes at the revelation that he hadn’t been all they’d hoped for. He loved his parents more than anyone else in the world: his mother, with her gravelly, comforting voice and stories about the Storm King and Mistweaver life before whatever it was exactly that had happened; his father, as smart and clever and strong as Mzuka ever hoped to be. Though he’d rarely have admitted any of that in so many words; the cub was more like his father in that than he might think.
He couldn’t be a seer. Mzuka had dreams and daydreams just like everybody else, sure, but that didn’t make them any more true. He would’ve known if any of them had been a vision or something, right? And surely if he was a seer, one would’ve happened by now.
Right?
Finally its stiff, intent posture melted back into a disgruntled shuffle. Whatever watcher it had been expecting didn't seem to have come.
With an experimental hop followed by a series of jerking, socket-popping wrenches of its wings, the buzzard was aloft. Suddenly it didn’t seem at all bothered by the bones grating against each other sickeningly with every movement. Was that a wicked grin, or just the curve of the hooked beak?
Circling high, its sharp red eyes always on the lookout for the way in… |
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Posted: Thu Jul 09, 2009 7:53 am
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Usiku, leadership material? Usiku, stepping up to seize the position of Second, and possibly even challenge the Warleader for the pride?
The aforementioned lion grinned wryly to himself. Once upon a time every last one of the Mizumu'Tungika would've laughed their paws off at the very idea. He'd always been the very image of the perfect rank-and-file Warrior: taciturn but swift to obey, keeping his own counsel and quite happy to leave the ambition stuff to more interested males. He'd been... respected, yes, much like Sakata was respected, but never the kind of lion you'd, say, offer to share with at an assimilation.
That was before Muhali came.
It was nighttime in the lands of the spirit-bound as Usiku thought back, gazing fondly up at the stars. Some nights she had rolled on her back with her paws swept upward, he remembered - claimed to hear those distant specks dancing and singing joyously above their heads. More of her irrational fancies, of course, but it comforted him to watch them now all the same.
He had wanted to be chosen by a greater spirit even less than he'd wanted to be a leader. Devoted to the spirits though Usiku was, it was one thing to know they were all around you and quite another to have them chewing on your ears and giggling softly to themselves. But when on the way to his patrol the Warrior was interrupted by a speeding blue ball with playful claws, the Haruspex advised him to let this Muhali have her way. They didn't say so outright, but he knew well enough that new spiritborn cubs would be well-received in the Mizumu'Tungika. So Usiku resigned himself to the task of attempting to entertain this flighty spirit, little expecting anything to come from it. He was well aware most of the pride considered him boring, after all.
It wasn't quite love that had happened in the end, but it was close enough. Usiku's respect for the spirits made it hard for him to keep up his guard; besides, he couldn't help but be just a little flattered to receive so much of Muhali's attention. And so, eventually, he had unfolded for her. She was the listener he had perhaps needed all this time: a passing cloud could wipe an entire conversation from her mind, but that only made him bolder to speak - although once or twice he had seen something in the tilt of her head that said Muhali understood more, and remembered more, than she cared to make known.
How he had changed since that first tentative opening! Usiku smiled lazily to himself, remembering. He'd begun volunteering for the most dangerous tasks, engaged surprised pridemates in conversations about nothing at all - and fought with the vigor of a young lion. In due time Muhali's belly began to swell: the cubs were born, and the overwhelmed Warrior was promoted to the rank of Veteran soon after. Had he known happiness before, in his solitary service of the spirits? Surely not, compared to life now.
And then one night Usiku awoke to the stars dancing overhead, and the cold hollow of grass where the greater spirit had once laid. He had known it was going to happen eventually. He had been wrong to think that would make it easier.
But he had three cubs of her blood to keep him occupied, and for a long time little chance to mourn. It was not his way to hound their every footstep, so for the most part he left them to find their own paths - but he came to know the Minders who were responsible for the three spiritborn very well indeed. His children grew and prospered, fulfilling his expectations and more: the two sisters were well-praised in their chosen tasks, and Mradi shot through the warrior's ranks with unerring accuracy, reaching his pinnacle at the rank of Second.
Which is, of course, where it all went wrong.
There had been so many challenges for Sakata in the past seasons, and so many challengers dispatched by the Warleader's skilled claws. The spirits were obviously in some disagreement - and proud, eager Mradi had probably thought that it was only a matter of time before a consensus was reached. Proud, eager Mradi, who was proud and eager no more.
Usiku was a fighter, and no idiot: he had hardly expected Sakata to lay down and die just because the challenger happened to be his son. But he couldn't forget, couldn't shake the feeling that somewhere things had gone terribly, terribly wrong. For the pride to lose so much potential, so soon... In his quest for answers he'd unexpectedly found himself following in his son's pawsteps, challenging another of the Veterans for the position of Second before he'd fully realized what the heck he was doing. It proved to be the right choice: a few months into his new role, the answers he'd been needing hit him like a thunderbolt.
It was a hard idea to swallow, no matter what his feelings. Could their queen really be so petty, twisting the spirits' sacred words to her own ends? Surely not - either way there was nothing that could be done until her future daughter's ascension. Though if he were Warleader... He would be perfectly placed to both confirm for himself whether his fears were true, and if so to make sure the new heir and scion were raised properly. They would value the spirits if it was at all in his power.
So, then. Why had he chosen this path?
Part of it was a father's frustration with the world that had cost him his son and scattered so much talent to the winds. Part of it was the chance to do what his son had failed to, because despite logic the thought of his claws in Sakata's throat was more than a little appealing. But another part... "Arrogant b*****d." A grunt. "Think you're the only one who can save the pride and Jinichongo, just 'cause you can deal with a goddess who might not be entirely nuts anyway?"
With a rumbling sigh, Usiku turned over, one paw catching on the clawed necklace he wore. Enough of the same tired speculations; they were all useless until he at last faced Sakata.
And no, he couldn't blame the Warleader, Usiku mused as his breathing became the heavy rhythms of sleep - but he didn't have to like him.
He had long since forgiven, but he would never forget.
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