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I run just like this!
Please tag me in openers and spars.
Feel free to flog n magic me, mild power play is also fine.
Text in the profile and posts reflects stereotypical ocker slang - don’t knock it mate!
Beyond the black stump
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06-09-2016, 05:54 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-11-2016, 04:51 PM by Banjo.
Edit Reason: styling
)
Plots | The Unbound | Absences
I run just like this! Please tag me in openers and spars. Feel free to flog n magic me, mild power play is also fine. Text in the profile and posts reflects stereotypical ocker slang - don’t knock it mate!
06-12-2016, 02:47 PM
Please tag in all posts Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death Image by Kiki
06-12-2016, 02:47 PM
Please tag in all posts Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death Image by Kiki
06-12-2016, 04:41 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-12-2016, 06:52 PM by Banjo.
Edit Reason: typo
)
The quirky buck stood for some time with his finely chiselled skull lifted high to grant pumping nostrils better access to the warm breeze as it sailed smoothly by. Large pointed ears quivered attentively, eagerly, perched high above the tousled mane of soft flaxen, though not even the echo of his own voice returned to humour his arrival (the mountain only skirted one side perhaps?). Not to worry. Banjo lifted forward off his muscular roo tail and worked his sharp fore-claws through the thick carpet of forest litter; the reek of rich soil lifted quickly into the air about him, marring the confusion of scents that suggested he should not have been alone. So he would need to dig the locals up himself! That was fine. He was hardly deterred having already wandered this far to date - what was another day? Trees towered above, groaning when occasionally the wind stirred a little stronger between them. He’d not seen their sort before and they were a stark contrast to the majestic, leafy eucalypts so prevalent back home. These had a distinct smell too (well the forest did), mouldy, with queer rugged foliage that neither rustled not rippled playfully above. No flowers dressed their boughs - they were dull, shabby, littered with cones somewhat less imposing than bunya nuts. As he passed through their shifting shadows, Banjo felt loneliness stir through his gut and he remembered with fierce fondness the old bush back home. It had been yonks since he’d known the warming comfort of familiarity. Deeper he ambled, slowly, pausing only once to ruin his peckish appetite nibbling the sour, wiry grass growing here and there. But his call had in fact been received! More so, a gal had been striding his way apparently, even as the sunset-red buck resumed wandering himself. "G’day mate!" Banjo made no attempt to mask the surprise from his upbeat tone when she appeared through the old grove of trees. He rocked back, sitting upon his brawny tail and grinned broadly for her. “Yep, that was me, haha! Name’s Banj. It’s not much fun drinkin’ with flies, reckon you could keep a new bloke company?” Teeth flashed briefly, charmingly, and long lashes winked quickly across his left eye - it was all good fun, and the quirky creature chuckled cheerfully afterwards. Dress | cork hat on head, bandana around top of neck @Lyanna Plots | The Unbound | Absences
I run just like this! Please tag me in openers and spars. Feel free to flog n magic me, mild power play is also fine. Text in the profile and posts reflects stereotypical ocker slang - don’t knock it mate!
Lived unbruised, we are friends; and I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Sigh no more. There were surely many who heard a call as loud and strange as that coee. Ashamin was counted among them. Prior to the exclamation he and his two companions had drifted quite lazily through the Birdsong day, weaving in and out of trees and dragging sleepiness behind them. Of the three Ashamin was the best at operating during the day time—Lochan the worst. Still, all three would have preferred to be roaming at night. They took comfort in the wind and shadow of the threshold. If there was nothing else to remind them of the time when stars reigned, there were quick brushes of cool that passed through the wood. And it was nice, too, to be moving about in the hours that others were awake. Nice to feel a part of the same world, for once. But when that sound, some sort of half-screech, cut through the wood Ashamin wondered again about which world he was a part of. Perhaps he had spent too much time in the Blood Falls but the sound cast a shimmer of fear in his complexion and his eyes showed their whites for a brief moment. Dark mist stirred at Lochan's antlers and Rakt shook stardust from his coat. Though none of them noticed, it took small vague forms before settling into the air. It seemed that the youngest of the trio was slowly learning the magic within him. Never one to back down from a fight or strange discovery, however, Ashamin moved closer to the sound. His two companions kept him close company, for they both stuck their loyalty close to the Clovenheart at all times. A shadow from above brought another to the scene and they watched, heads all turning together, as a pegasus mare landed just outside the forest. Her colors were not unlike the former haruspex's, and though he doubted she'd emitted the sound he followed her regardless. What he found at the end of her trail was the same thing he sought: a strange being, the only sort that could let loose such an animal call. Though Ashamin was confident as he parted the trees his companions lingered at the perimeter, preferring to err on the side of caution. The painted buck came within earshot just at the right time to hear their conversation play out, and was within sight by the time the creature offered his own name: Banj. "Greetings," Ashamin said with a wave of his long tail and a craning of his neck. He was thankful then for his dark eyes which masked his gaze that roamed over the oddly dressed and hybridized stranger. "A pleasant surprise to find company on a day like this," was all he said at first, struggling with the concept of his own introduction. Behind him, Lochan (followed by Rakt) peered through the trees. "Banj and Lyanna, is it? Forgive me if I misheard. I am Ashamin..." his voice trailed and his gaze flitted back to where his companions slowly appeared from the surroundings. Should he give his full title, the one he'd heard whispered by some distant company? "...the Clovenheart." It sounded odd, strange on his tongue. Who was he to have a title? A warrior, an old seer, alone, but... was he special? Did it mean he really was meant to do something great with his time outside a herd, as he had been considering? As if sensing his conflict, Lochan and Rakt moved closer and brushed their soft sides against his legs. "These are my companions, Lochan and Rakt. We would be glad to keep you company, Banj. I used to be a scholar of sorts, if you are new to this land and seek knowledge then perhaps I could provide you with an introduction." The mare had come from inland and smelled of others, suggesting that she might belong to a herd, but Ashamin turned to her then and nodded, turning up his lips. "The same goes for you, miss, though you already seem versed in Helovia's twists and turns." He shook his coat then, the thick beard, necklace, and sarong he sported shifting as he puffed himself up. Already life in the warmer wild had thinned out his Basin fur and revealed the built muscle beneath. Belatedly but always true to his manner, he stepped closer and reached out his nose in greeting, first to the curious hybrid and then to the darker, winged mare. "" @Lyanna @Banjo (Don't tag me, a skype message will do. Let me know if you'd also prefer to not be tagged.)
@Banjo Please tag in all posts Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death Image by Kiki
06-17-2016, 06:53 PM
Indeed! The fifth limb upon which he casually rested before her had always been a pretty bonza convenience - both physically and conversationally, and Banjo nodded gently, before the loose flick of her own drew his bright eyes down. There was nothing wrong with the soft, flowing locks that she sported - not in a superficial sense anyway, but how could he have known her hair meant anything more than a glamorous fly swat. The silken tendrils that licked about her tall white socks were lovely in fact, more so than the common, oily browns and blacks back in the bush, and they suited the ebony woman rather well too. Not so much the feather coat flanking either side of her glossy barrel… what was with that? Before there was much of a chance for any further banter however, he and Lyanna were approached by another who had perhaps followed the sound of his original call. The more the merrier! Their guest appeared at first glance to be a fairly modest and strapping fella with mostly white and black shading, and a blur of brown along his neck which seemed redder when he slipped beneath varying shafts of warm light - all simple enough. What caught Banjo’s (easily distracted) interest however was the sheet of… something, slumped about his shoulders. It was most unusual, like even that the skin he’d been born with had by some ill-fate been excessive; far more than the frame beneath needed. The horsaroo was drawn to it, wanted to touch it, but as a matter of politeness withheld. The stallion’s long tail swerved behind him which in turn, distracted the buck from his rather good stunned mullet impersonation; greetings were being exchanged, and Banjo lifted his eyes beneath dancing corks to find yet another feature too intriguing to ignore. What could only be described as a dead snake, seemed frozen upon his face and though great effort was made to find those endlessly black gaze above it, he could hardly move along. Luckily the painted horse and the sheila had sense enough to continue normally - and the queerest looking buck (himself) listened with trained, oversized ears to the exchange. Ashamin… “…the Clovenheart?” he queried suddenly, pulling free from the ridiculous trance at long last. “Are ya crook?” Soon after, two little deer emerged from the trees and drew nearer to Ashamin - their names were given at that moment, like they had some kind of bearing in the conversation; as though they were more than curiously stunted wildlife as expected. They would be glad to keep Banjo company? Mossy gaze returned to Lyanna, seeking sanctuary in her unfaltering expression, though he half wondered if she had a pet too, off hiding somewhere in the woods around them. Thoughtfully, she turned to briefly explain that World’s Edge was a herd - naturally he’d presumed that it meant what its name suggested, the end of the world (he had travelled far it was true!). It hardly sounded like a destination, not like those back home - Bullamakanka, or Yackandandah. Horsey-lips grinned broadly, as they slipped forward to accept Ashamin’s nose in greeting, bumping it softly with a spray of blonde whiskers and velvet smooth skin beneath. “Well Lyanna, Ashamin, both’v you are tops and I’m mighty glad ya turned up.” He looked to each as at the mention of their names, glittery green eyes filled with gratitude for the help they offered. “So I… er…” His gaze strayed beneath the brown hat’s rim, from wing to dead snake as he tried to pick the least offensive way of asking, “your parents have some pretty quirky ‘wags’ too ay?” Because that was the most important question of all! Decoder | 'wag' = wives and girlfriends Dress | cork hat on head, bandana around top of neck @Lyanna Plots | The Unbound | Absences
I run just like this! Please tag me in openers and spars. Feel free to flog n magic me, mild power play is also fine. Text in the profile and posts reflects stereotypical ocker slang - don’t knock it mate!
06-28-2016, 11:15 AM
Lived unbruised, we are friends; and I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Sigh no more. So the painted buck had been right about the mare; she was from a herd after all, apparently the World's Edge. Despite the fact that it was a name he had heard more than any other in the threshold, he seemed to know the least about it. For some reason he just hadn't made the time to visit. Maybe that would have to change. He was pleased that the conversation continued merrily and politely. They were an odd collective, Banj particularly with his hat and heritage, but they seemed to at least be kind. Ashamin was thankful that there wouldn't be hostility in their conversation. "No, not a crook," Ashamin said to Banj in simple reply. A soft, almost sad smile passed across his lips. "The name was given to me by others, I can't say for sure how all are to interpret it." How, even, did Ashamin read the name? Was if for his companions or his magic, his sorrow or his love? If nothing else he was self-aware, at least to some extent. He knew that the name had some meaning, and as a scholar he had some desire to pursue it. Now, however, was not the time to contemplate his own outer reputation. "I'm glad to have met you both as well," Ashamin added quickly, trying to turn his thoughts from his own troubles and towards the situation. Banj's next comment was strange, and given that the word was unfamiliar he could only do his best with context clues. Lochan sent a splattered painting of the newcomer's tail, the thing that had been balanced upon and slapped around like some sort of broad beaver's weapon, and Ashamin went with it. Looking at Lyanna's blue tips and his own white tail, it did make some sense. "Oh, you mean my tail? No, I was the only one in my family unlucky enough to be gifted the eyesore. But it does come in handy," Ashamin said with a smile and a curling wave of it. The sparked coils on its end shimmered in the forest light and as the tip of his snake-like tail curled, he revealed its somewhat prehensile capabilities. Little did he know how wrong he was regarding the word Banj had spoken with such confidence. "" @Lyanna next! Also heads up, Ashamin's companions are cerndyrs, not dragons. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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