Light Royal Position

[R◊xii]

Well, I think it’s only fitting if we begin auditions for the Light King or Queen, don’t you? Please remember to read the rules of a Royal in our Rules and Regulations before trying out as they contain VERY IMPORTANT information *coughpasswordcough* . Also be aware that as a Royal you are expected to be logged in and active at least 5 times a week. All updates in the Light Realm fall onto you, once you are given the title Boudicca or I shall give you the power to edit your lands so that everyone herd count is up to date. Should we catch you shirking (oh that’s a fun word) from your responsibilities, we will talk to you about it. We know that social lives are very important and school tend to loom over everyone, so we are merely asking that you log on and show that you are active. We aren’t asking for a post everyday, that’s absurd. However we do ask that you post at least once or twice a week in character and of course the more friendly and helpful you are out of character never hurts.

We ask that you example post be composed as thought you have just won the land and you are returning to it for the first time as King or Queen.

With that said try outs will begin Today (June 7th) and will end Sunday June 15th. The results will be posted on Monday or Tuesday of that week. The winner gets immunity from stealing and challenges for a month!

So without further ado, here is your application, fill it out and get started with those auditioning posts! Good luck to everyone trying out!


[b]Name[/b]


[b]Character Name [/b]
[b]Nick Name[/b]
[b]Gender[/b]
[b]Age[/b]
[b]Breed[/b]

[b]History[/b]

[b]Example Post[/b]

- Roxii

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[Romulus]

Name Rommy

Nonchalant

Character Name Romulus
Nick Name Rom
Gender Male
Age 11 years
Breed Andalusian

History Romulus was born the eldest foal from Roman Legion and Antigone, his brother and sister arriving a few years after himself, twins they were. As a foal Romulus was...cocky, to say the least, and didn't like to waste his time around those he considered stupid and ignorant. He had no time for those kinds of people after all. Going through his life like this, he continued to think of himself as strong, invincible, until he was about three years old. He had gotten in a fight with a stallion a little older than himself, but considerably smaller. Of course, Rom lost the fight and the sight in his right eye as the stallion's hoof skimmed across it, leaving a nasty scar and darkness that would forever plague him in that eye. With a wounded pride, Rom snuck off to nurse his wounds and bruised pride. Of course, his brother's taunts didn't help much to heal him. But Romulus decided that he wasn't going to be like that anymore, forming his own personality to include a gentleness that wasn't there before. He continued to grow, accepting those who were injured and lost into his care, helping others pick themselves up as need be. He continued for eleven years, watching his family grow, and his parents eventually fade away with illness. He remains out of contact with his brother and sister.

Example Post

I. THERE was always some kind of challenge awaiting someone somewhere in the world. Everyone had at least one challenge during their lifetime. After all, life would simply be too easy and boring if there wasn't a challenge to make you stronger, to force your mind into focusing. That was what he had done, faced a challenge of becoming a leader. He was an older gentleman, perhaps not as old as some, but definitely not a young strapping four-year-old like there was out there. Years had gone by, and he had gathered wisdom in his time. No longer a reckless and cocky youngster, this gentleman could hold his head up high and walk along the shore with confidence that he had done good in his life. That seemed to be the case now as he ambled gracefully into the new land that would be his home, his shelter...his throne? That word wasn't exactly graceful rolling off of his tongue. It seemed foreign, and unfriendly. Perhaps it was modesty that was blocking him from saying that word, using it to the highest value.

II. HE stood there uneasily now, halting his movements as if he was afraid of the pain they might bring. I may be a king, but I am not a tyrant...I am not to value myself highly, or more so than any other being on this island he thought to himself as his good eye gazed out at the horizon beyond his own quarters. Yes...that was part of his personality, but would the others accept him as that? Now, Romulus wasn't one to judge, or really care, if others found dislike in him, but now it seemed to matter. A low sigh left his lips as he shook his head in disappointment at his self pity. There is no gain in standing around. Picking up his feet, he moved his light gray-nearly white body down the hill to the sloping lands of the royal home. It was here he would raise a family, heirs perhaps, and share the rule with a mare, a respectable mare. Would his family be proud of him? He was fairly certain that his mother and father would find a manifestation of happiness and pride dwelling down within the pits of their stomachs and hearts.

III. BUT who am I to judge my mother and my father, grasping at a possibility of their thoughts when they have been gone for so long?

[/i] he reprimanded himself as he finally came to a rest at the bottom of the valley, its sloping green land waving at him in congratulations of his victory. But what was a victory if you were all alone? That hardly seemed like a victory in his mind. I shall travel to the meeting areas to see if any mares, stallions even if they so desire, would like to accompany myself back here. Turning slightly, he glanced over his shoulder at a doe and fawn traveling across the slopping valley, much like himself. Although, they seemed to have no destination but a safe place in mind, while he had arrived at his destination. Ah, the wonders and miracles of life at their finest. A small smile slipped across his lips as he swung his body once more, his good blue eye gazing out at the pair traveling through the longer grass not far off. That eye, the one that was blind, had given him a sort of meaning in life, a lesson that could have only been taught through the loss.

IV. HE was not perfect, and fallible just like everyone else on this planet, this home of his. It had taken a smaller stallion than himself to prove that, and he had done so by taking the sight out of Romulus' right eye. And how I am grateful for that he thought to himself, not in bitterness, but relief. Who knows what he would have ended up as if that little squabble had not taken place. Shaking his well-sculpted face in wonder, he turned again to gaze out at the sprawling land as it crawled back up the valley sides to whatever was beyond the horizon. Victory was more than just winning a battle, whether of wit or strength, it was an accomplishment, proof that he belonged here.

V. WORDS 726
VI. CREDITS Post and character (c) me
VII. OOC Thought I should try Been a while since I've rped him, but here's Rommy -nods and pets him- btw:

Monkeys

I keep forgetting to put it D: [/blockquote]

[Concealed Requiem]

Name:: Requiem.

Nonchalant

Character Name :: Concealed Requiem.
Nick Name:: Requiem.
Gender:: Stallion.
Age:: Five.
Breed:: Lipizzaner.

History::

No one truly knows what happened to this majestic being as a child. They know not his sire and his dame is almost never heard of. Both were brilliant creatures. Nevertheless, they have not stayed in his life. This phantom has a life as mysterious and as secretive as his heart. Whispers on the wind give away a few secrets of his life. They tell of a tragedy so brutal and grotesque that they broke the stag to pieces. Little by little, he picked himself up again and pieced those shards back together into something stronger. His knowing eyes and wise sonnets come from the pain he has endured. Though there are no visible scars upon his beautiful figure, there are plenty behind those auburn irises. They swim in a sea of memories and beckon only angels to peer into the windows of his soul. A precedent that is truly forlorn to the world…

Example Post::

“Be still…”

The wind’s gentle sonnet caressed his erect auds. She sang her woes to him. She sang of her loneliness, her desires, her cries, her wants, her likes, her dislikes, her past, her future… She was his companion, and he was her’s. They would bond together as an element, vicious and tactful in its nature, and a victim to it. Such a binding was unheard of. To wed the wind to a mortal was against the commandments of life. But what sense did these rules make? The more barricades you latch around the sea, the more the ocean will try to break it. This was the same for the colorless stag and the breeze. Forever they would whisper to each other. It had happened the day she’d filled his lungs for the very first time with her life, and would end when she reluctantly stole away his final breath.

He had imagined her before. He had seen her dancing body, her fluttering limbs, her silken tresses blowing in her own ingredient… She was fluid like the water. Most would say that water and air are not alike. In ways, this may be true. Have you ever tried to capture air? Have you tried to embrace the water? Both are free and will not be contained like earth and fire. Earth does not fight but lies dormant, waiting for the right moment to release its fury in an attempt to break its bindings. Fire will be more furious, but with such bursts of energy it will die quickly in its shackles. How do you shackle water? How do you bind air? You simply can’t. Thus, her movements, the maiden of the summer breeze and unforgiving winter gusts, would move like her twin sister: the water.

Laotongs. It was a Chinese word for “old sames”. That is what the water and wind are. They are old sames. Laotongs were women of the Chinese culture. In the time of the great dynasties of emperors, women had their feet bound. The pain coursed up their legs, sending them whimpering and crying with pain. Their mothers were deaf to these cries as they unbound them every four days, cleansed the puss and blood from their feet, and returned them to their constricting binds. During these times, the young girls would make their own shoes. Each pair, smaller than the one before it. In the “upper chamber” – a room used for the women as they embroidered and sewed silken clothing for their future husbands and in-laws – the mothers would walk the girls of only six or seven years across the room. Finally, the stillness of the chamber would be sliced by the sharp snap of one of the girl’s feet as it broke. Now, they were forced to sit while their “golden lilies’ took to their new shape.

Why was this done? Did the mothers not care for their daughter’s screams? Did they not care for their young? The answer was simple. Daughters are worthless to their families. Although some mothers did love their daughters greatly, they were a burden to their fathers and a nuisance to the very family itself. They were raised only to be given to another family as daughters-in-law and wives. They were only meant to bear sons. In order to do such a thing, however, their feet were bound. This proved to their husbands that they were tolerant of the pain of childbirth, and elegant as they swayed on their misshapen lilies. The ideal foot was the size of a thumb, a sexual boost in their husband’s appeal.

Had this happened to the wind? Had her mother once made the maiden’s slender feet crooked lilies so she may never fly again? Had she hobbled for the one purpose of tightening her vaginal opening to boost the pleasure of her husband during lovemaking? Was her mother kind to her in these times? Had she fed her red dumplings to soften her feet? Had she bound her feet in the winter months so the cold would numb the pain? What had this darling creature gone through?

No one but her laotong knew. The “old same” came to the wind in her time of weeping. The water maiden pressed her hand to her twin’s shoulder and cupped her cheek lovingly into her hand. They didn’t need words to speak of what terror they both went through. How their feet ached! They needn’t words, nor nu shu, their secret language for writing to one another. They needn’t any other comfort but each other’s. That is what it meant to be “old sames”.

Their friendship still occurs today. Yet, the wind had married the sky. The water, forever missing her laotong, refused to be wed. Even if her golden lilies made her appealing to the men that tried to court her, she forever tried to reach her laotong. Watch the rain closely and you will see how reluctant each drop is to fall from the sky. It is the tears of two maidens. One was wed for an eternity to the air above, while the other lay unwed and furious for the world taking her darling companion.

This is what the wind told him… She would share this knowledge with a man that had the slightest air of feminine incense coming off his coat. He was beautiful; his mother had ensured that. What of his sire? What had become of that stag that had mated his dam? This, only the wind knew and her lips would never tell another of her companion’s secrets. She would never reveal how she wept for him at times. She would never speak of the pain he felt whenever she entered his lungs. She would never vocalize his woes to mix with her own. She could not betray him this way. They were together and could not be torn apart.

Striding along his lands, he paused to hear her cries. Embraced in her arms, he let the wind carry out his creamy tresses of hair. Bangs of silken grace covered his dark chocolate irises. Some said he was like the moon. Artemis, as untouched as the wind – though by her own accord, for no man would ever tame her – had birthed a son. Only such a thing could be done by the goddess’s hand.

With his coat of ivory grace, he seemed to be carved from the bosom of the lunar orb that watched him so intently as his body continued to dance across the face of her sister. The earth welcomed his touch as he embellished his hooves through the darkening grasses. With his muscles rippling under a coat of powdery snow-fallen coloration, he seemed as if he could possess much for strength. Yet, he would not fight unless the need arouse in an instance where he had no choice. He was a gentle beast; he was the mountain that could kill thousands but used its powerful structure to give the creatures beneath itself life and shelter.

The wind caressed his bodice in a different way. She seemed to take his limbs and be guiding him to some place where he wished not to go. With stubborn flick of his tail to will the maiden away, she only gave an equally tenacious gust. This time, her softened arms turned to the crisp smack of the winter’s chill. Breathing out in defeat, he watched as a cloud surfaced from his nostrils. The mist drifted away, as quickly hidden as it did appear.

Guided by her hands, absorbed by her supervision, he walked with his maiden. The unseen woman danced her seductive dance in the breeze. The night air ran through him once more, filling him with the life and sanctuary of a thousand years. How many others like him had the wind perceived? How many great, white stags had her arms held? Where had she led them just before they came crashing down into the earth? Had she guided them to heaven when their bodies forlorn their souls? Would her hand reach down and grasp him when the time came? Would they remain lovers even with death upon his breast?

Looking down upon his lands, he swung his ears forward to listen to the beckoning of the earth. An elegy from the child of the wind called to his tympanums. He followed the couplet to the poet, himself. High above, riding the embraced touch of the wind’s hand, was an owl. Queen of the skies, lady of the night, she ruled over the walkers of the land. Earning an envious snort from his flaring nostrils, a billow of mist was swept away by the gentle swipe of the maiden’s palm. Brunette feathers ruffled soundlessly against the breeze as the mistress spread her wings and caught the bone of a pine tree, gripping that living skeleton with her merciless talons.

For only an instant, ruler of the land and ruler of the sky met each other’s eyes. They regarded one another with a monotonous beat of two hearts. The mistress then spread her wings once more, feathers expanding outward like clawing digits upon the hand. Away she was carried, back into the air where the noble specter below could never follow. She was lost in a sea of stars; no doubt off to hunt and feed her insatiable hunger. His eyes pursued her with the kind of lust only a man would hold for a woman. She was swallowed from his vision, forever mislaid to the inhabitants of the earth. How lucky those stars were to hold her in their eyes. How lucky Artemis was to birth such a beautiful mistress to her chambers.

Beyond came the faintest trickle of his land’s great stream. It cut through the earth like a great wound. Ironically, this abrasion was what kept life to the heart of his earth’s essence. In each great stride his body moved with a fluid grace. It was nearly catlike. Mesmerizing his haunches swayed as though caught in some erotic wave. There be no water to control his tempo. His muscles were forever in motion to a song only he could hear. He was lost in the guided ode. The stream neared as each elegant stride carried him closer. The nearness could not be implored nor described with words. His affair with this land was as timeless as the wind and water maidens, themselves. He was bound to this terrain. Never to leave her side, always to fight for her. A soldier broken free from her womb, he would give his life to keep her safe. Like the wind maiden he held a connection to the earth and would not leave her side.

Intimately, he dipped his velveteen muzzle into the surface of the liquid. The water caressed over his maw as gently as the wind had done. Did she recall her laotong upon this beast’s soul? Did she know of his connection to her? Was she inscribing nu shu across his lips so that he may deliver it to her; mocking a fan that they used to pass back and forth in ancient times? Whatever the purpose he was thirsty for her life and drank the sweet nectar from the depths of her bosom. Her life filled him, giving him strength and reassurance that all would be well. How could it not be? He was ruler of this terra. An incognito of the soil.

With body, soul, and heart connected in such a way to this beautiful utopia, he found his Garden of Eden enriched and delicate. Like two lovers they belonged with one another. Forever enrapt to each other like a maiden to satin sheets. He was a requiem, concealed over time with pain and wisdom. He knew the wind, the water, the earth. This was his home – his jewel – and he would do whatever it took to keep it from being taken from him. Two lovers… As tragic as Romeo & Juliet…He just entreated that it didn’t have the same finale…

[ The monkeys are attacking! Ahhhh! *Runs in circles!* ]

[R◊xii]

<sup>This was by far the hardest royal audition to judge, you both have wonderful posts that I thoroughly enjoyed reading and your characters are both so well developed. However I can only chose one king and that king is....

Rommy and her one-eyed Romulus! Congradulations darling, you have won the position of Light King, please PM me so that I may discuss with you (as I will be discussing with all the royals) how to properly update your lands etc etc.

Thank you both of you for trying-out, your posts were both wonderful and I will see you both around the site!</sup>

[persephone.]

PERSEPHONE

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NAME. Epidemic, or Epi!

CURSING. Persephone
PET NAME. none
BORN. baroness
REVOLUTIONS. six
HERITAGE. Peruvian x Arab

THE STORYBOOK. A young mare, twisted in the attic and salacious for power, took aim on an older brute, quiet and angry. They produced Persephone together, bringing her up loosely and without great care. The dame, Soria, though strongly fond of her mate, could not heed to her mental desires, and was found with another stallion. Apollon tracked the brute down and challenged, though he fell within the great battle. Heartbroken and insane, Soria abandoned Persephone at a young age, too churning to lay eyes upon what her "love" had created. Persephone, though quiet and wise, has gained her sire's wrath and her mother's state of mind, and with it produced her own strong bond and child, both abandoned out of guilt. She seeks a stronghold and redemption simultaneously, confused and hiding her anger towards the creatures that created her unhealthy ways.

THE VICTORY. Gentle hooves of creme picked their way through the underbrush like elegant calligraphy upon the earth's skin. Deep mocha pools were attached firm and intent upon the ground before them, calculating placement to an almost perfect extent. A strange feeling had welled within the gold-tinged mare, a feeling of weightlessness, like a wispy cumulus floating across the celestial, or of attentiveness, for she was noticing every leaf on the branches, every bird within the air, and every word that the royal wind blew through her flaxen tresses. Persephone was confused by this feeling, so light and perfect as it settled upon her breast. Was this happiness? It had been so long since said feeling of joy had engulfed her... She would go so far as to think it in her fillehood, now over five long summers ago. She stopped, her restless limbs pawing at the soft loam in their normal anxious manner, though twin auds and orbs were now alert to every noise and every sight, and crested neck was erect to the canopy of emerald leaves. A sigh of contentment was heaved from her lungs, and she continued to the edge of the trees.

Light breath was stolen from her as she emerged from the thickets, taken aback by the vast expanse of what was... her kingdom. Eyes fell to her fore hooves at this thought, and the smallest of smiles played across her velveteen lips; never before had she called a land her's, never had she a sanctuary, a modern Eden, a home to call her own. Again, not since she was young, innocent, full of life and carefree from the real world. Suddenly full of the life that was hidden deep within her bosom, shapen tiara was tossed to the heavens, her limbs momentarily dancing where she stood. She felt them lift then, rocketing her weight forward into an exhilarating sprint. They stretched further with every thundering stride, stretched until her muscles burned with the stress of coiling and relaxing and pulling her anatomy into the ground-engulfing gallop that she called her own. Her breathes became shallow and close, quick exhalations bursting from her flaring paper thins in sync with every long and elegant pace. She ignored these burning pleasures, aiming herself towards the mountainous ledges that rose suddenly from the crust, tips hidden in the clouds.

She did not heed when she heard her flints hit slate, but urged her tiring limbs to keep their steady rhythm. She wound around one lone turret, keeping unsteady balance as small rocks and pebbles threatened to shift beneath her great weight, and she continued to the top. As her complete harem was revealed to her eyes, she allowed her body to rest upon the cliffs. Again, her breath was made short at the sight of the dancing forests, the vast, flowing fields, the silver strings of water that wound themselves across every corner of the land like veins, even the barren ledges she stood upon, topped year round with pure ivory blankets of snow and ice. Fore limbs buckled beneath her, and she fell upon her golden knees with a grace and gratitude like none she had felt before. Lids fell like curtains over her chocolate orbs, and she released her breath into the wind, metallic lyri floating inaudible upon the drifts. "Un regalo soltanto dai miei dei... a gift only from my gods." She lifted her lids, eyes glowing towards the dusk atmosphere. Her throne, the tip of the world, the peaks between the earth and sky, Heaven's Valley. "My home..."



[ Monkeys fling poo... o.O ]
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[R◊xii]

^{Epi darling the results have been posted, so you have entered to late, sorry love}

[persephone.]

Oh, haha... I thought it said July 15th.

[Concealed Requiem]

EE!!! *Bounces! Snatches Rommy and attacks in a huggle!!* Congrads, Rommy!!!

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