Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Welcome wanderer! You seem to have stumbled across Kormada, a wild horse roleplay approaching its ten year anniversary on the net. We are a very friendly and very active community of players of all ages and experience levels. So take a look around, join us, and experience the chaos of life on a planet cheating death with every day of continued existence.

Join Kormada and enter the realm!

If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Username:   Password:
`` manipulate the heart !?; Kiara (Diego x Hera) // Dark
Topic Started: May 26 2014, 10:05 PM (175 Views)
Kat.
Member Avatar

Posted Image
Kiara
build & coloring
Pale buttermilk frame crept through the shadows like a predator stalking its prey. A sinister smirk graced the smoky cream dun mare's lovely features. She had been told numerous times how lovely she was, how exquisite her facial features were how expressive and beautiful she was. All the compliments she had taken with good graces, not being one to turn them down. Needless to say she was used to getting her way. Kiara's thick caramel tinted mane and tail streamed out behind her as she slipped through the forest towards her destination silently. Her father's midnight blue eyes were replicated into her face, which only served to enhance her already natural beauty. If not for the malicious glint in her lovely eyes and the mocking sneer marring her face, she might just be the loveliest creature on the face of Kormada. She was looking searching for a stallion that would give her everything she wanted. Kiara enjoyed manipulation. Controlling other, playing them, discovering what makes them tick and best of all what makes them shatter.

With out hesitation or pause Kiara slipped from the tree line into the direct light of mid morning sun. Autumn was always her favorite time of year, well right after the bone chilling winter months. She had no remorse or regret she was far to independent to fall in love. Her father had taught her well: To love is to Die. No one could be trusted. Kiara depended on herself for survival and on everyone else for her amusement. The stallion of her choosing would be fun to play with. Who ever seemed like more fun would be the one she would choose. Kiara stood there in all her beautiful glory and awaited for a stud to approach and try her out.


Mare . Warmblood . Smoky Cream Dun . 16.0 hands . Dark . (Hera x Diego)


OOC Note:
A bigger herd would be preferable or one that has the intention of getting bigger. She has absolutely no sense of loyalty and is extremely independent. So really as long as you keep her interested she will stay around! xD
Edited by Kat., Jun 9 2014, 11:15 AM.
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image

No.
Alecto Does Not Have A Lisp.
It is just the way he talks. Sort of like a Snake.
[ OFFLINE ] [ PROFILE ] [ QUOTE POST ] [ GO TO TOP ]
 
ƒierce
Member Avatar
i've not yet begun to defile myself.
MARTYRDON'T ASK ME TO BLEED ABOUT IT; I NEED THIS BLOOD TO SURVIVE
If one didn't know Martyr, there was little chance of seeing the change that had occurred in the blue stallion. His roan form strode forward, shadow mottling his already cornspot marked pelt. He had been to this island a handful of times, but, still, h was not comfortable here. Perhaps, with time, it would suit him better. His bright blue eyes wandered as his muscled physique delved deeper into the landscape. The stallion was nearly ten years-old, but he had returned home. A major accomplishment for him, considering it was Serpent's Province. He belonged there with every fiber of his being. Matyr knew that.

He had figured that out upon his interaction with Marlee, a crazy aunt for lack of better words. Viral's half-sister or full sister. There were too many Chronic descendants for him to be sure. Not like the chestnut had talked much about his family anyway. She had called the Province hers, and, after all of the work and planning that the roan had done with regaining his basic birthright, it made him snap. Fury and scorn that he had never known before seeped his veins and soaked his mind in frenzied possessiveness.

The overo put off those thoughts, focusing on finding a mare to speak with. He didn't care for competition, but he wouldn't turn it down either. Martyr wandered like this until he found a young maiden. She was pretty, smoky cream dun in color. One Martyr didn't believe he had seen before. He approached her directly, no whicker coming from his throat. He nodded to her in casual greeting. "Hello. I am Martyr of Serpent's Province. May I know your name?" He couldn't remember if he had used what land he owned in an introduction before, but it was too late to take it back now. His painted face was held at an aristocratic level, his shoulders relaxed, and he was clearly poised. Ready for anything.
HERE'S ONE YOU DON'T COMPROMISE; LIES COME HARD IN DISGUISE
male . blue roan overo . mustang hybrid . 15.3 hands . viral x sapphire moon . dark . serpent's province
ƒierce   (adj.)   ferocious; bold; intense; dauntless
if i am chaos, then you are the storm inside of me
Aura | Fatale | Harlem | Phalaenopsis
Shikari | Shtriga | Vervain | Vitae
Carnivean | Finnigan | İskender
Lir | Martyr | Sonste | Thames
28 || adoptions -- log -- mare plotting -- to do list Asylum | Flannery | Hoarfrost | Israël | Magdalena | Rivulet| Salvatore
Sears | Stheno | Tribulation | Vermillion -- ( up for adoption )
Hollow | Ristian | Sémillon -- ( potentially adoptable )
[ OFFLINE ] [ PROFILE ] [ QUOTE POST ] [ GO TO TOP ]
 
devotchka
Member Avatar
WELL SWEET MOTHER TERESA ON THE HOOD OF A MERCEDES BENZ
WASP
' this will never end because i want more, give me more '
______________________________________________________________________________________


He thrives in winter. Growing up in the mountains has only strengthened this young stallion, and his new home is in similar conditions. He purposefully chose his land to be close to his father’s, mainly because he would like to keep an eye on what the old stallion is up to. He respects his father enough to hopefully offer his alliance, although he is also conscious of his teachings his mother instructed upon him. His grulla coat is exceptional against it’s slate landscape, like the colour of dirty snow. He clamours up and against the grey sand of the beach of the homeless grounds, shivering slightly from the cold sea. He takes a moment to recover his breath – the passage from the Northern Mainland was a tiresome one in these conditions. His legs and belly feel like ice where he has swam, and the wind rattling up and down the beach does not help. However, Wasp sets his tawny gaze on the bleak land in front of him. It is his first time here.

He strides off the beach and into grassy dunes, before being met with woodland mixed with open country. There are so many smells here, and it immediately sets the Warmblood stallion on high alert. He does not mix well with other stallions. A few small scars litter his withers and under his slate mane, where he has been involved with skirmishes with his numerous brothers. He is used to making himself stand out, to do whatever it takes. He is also tired of being downtrodden. Whilst Wasp does not hate his sire for not choosing him as heir, he is determined to make him regret that decision. His ears press against his skull as he bares his teeth slightly, his eyes flashing in the shadows as he sticks to the comfort of the trees.

There is never a shadow without light. He soon spots her. She is built very similarly to him, and around the same height as well, with the same dorsal stripe down her shapely back. Her colouring is exquisite. He slinks after her a few yards back, he catches the flash of her blue eyes, the markings across her face. She pulsates with the same darkness he feels within him, and she interests him. He would have her.

She is soon met with an overo stallion, and Wasp stays in the shadows. He weighs up his opponent, who seems a little older, but probably more experienced. The stranger introduces himself, and very vaguely Wasp thinks he has heard that name before, but he is no acquaintance of his. Deciding this was when he would intervene, the grulla stallion steps out of the shadows, his eyes glancing at the stallion, then returning to the mare. She was very pretty, and would look even prettier in his land, under his will. ‘And I am Wasp, of Bracken Bracken.’ He says, dark lips curling upwards in a half grin. ‘Tell us your name.’ He says, half-mockingly. It might be unorthodox, but Wasp is not here to dawdle through life like everyone else.

theme xx image
Posted Image




____________________________________________
in these cages we call walls ~
[ OFFLINE ] [ PROFILE ] [ QUOTE POST ] [ GO TO TOP ]
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Join the millions that use us for their forum communities. Create your own forum today.
Learn More · Sign-up for Free
« Previous Topic · Homeless · Next Topic »