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| 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: |
| always burn your lungs & not the memories;; anael;; light | ||||
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 15 2015, 08:05 PM (136 Views) | ||||
| Magnanimous | Jul 15 2015, 08:05 PM Post #1 | |||
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ANAEL;; The world around her is dying, or perhaps it is simply Anael herself passing on. Never before have the cries of the trees rung so loud in her ears, never has the open sky above her felt so oppressive. It is spring, and one would think that new life would be rising up, a welcome promise of renewal and hope, of catharsis and a new leaf turned for all survivors. But only death and despair remain to be felt. Perhaps that is not the truth for others. The seasons change and as ever, the Kormadians move on. Blind little creatures, ever persistent in their desire to survive, to continue to eek out a living no matter what calamity comes next. Tender young grasses spring from the ground and the promise of budding leaves on each tree turns the air fresh and fragrant, yet Ana swears she can feel every soul lost in the past months. Each and every one of them are screaming at her, pounding and pushing and demanding she follow them down. Whatever remained of her herd is gone, any others she ever knew followed shortly after. Her skin crawls with the weight of their voices, not even lessened when she screams. It has gone night already, Prime's distant rays faded and the eerie blue light of the moons above casts the world into a pale relief. Anael is alone, held captive from sleep once again by the anguish she sees played over and over and over again, every time her eyes slip closed. Better to not sleep than to die a thousand deaths. |
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![]() we are not things; those were her words! salome | ishtar | piper| riesling | rani | anael | iscaie | silas | faolan | sven | nyss| | ||||
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| `d e p p | Jul 17 2015, 07:04 PM Post #2 | |||
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I think everybody's nuts.
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![]() source [justify=400]. . . do you hear the people sing? . . . He leaves his home with the intent to return soon. Although the drive to explore, to expand, to build burns deep through the very sinews of his body, the Arabian does not allow himself to become distracted from his path. From the pearly shores of the Offland he had leapt, strong, lean legs carrying him through the salty waters until he surfaces again on communal beaches. The common grounds are not unfamiliar to him. As a colt, weak and dependent on his mother, they had traveled for many months, often lingering in the safety of the Quarry or with the company of wanderers like them. He is not a stranger to adventure. It is perhaps this very drive, this boldness to dive into the unknown, that fuels his desire for change and shapes his dreams for the future. Although still young, the Arabian already knows what he wants from life—or an idea, anyway—and sees no point in wasting precious time. He dreams of a greater world, a happier world, and a family and friends to share his home. Cleric’s Realm is not the most stunning or most unique territory, but its simple beauty is pleasing to the rose gray, and he is sure it will serve him well in the many years to come (providing he is so graciously blessed). Having ensured that his mother and mares were settled comfortably and safe within his borders (and assured by his mother that Nori’s pregnancy would not come to its end in his absence), Renly had departed for the Homeless. His hooves shift through the long grass in elegant strides, carrying him forward at an extended walk. The spring wind weaves its chilled fingers through his long tresses, leaving his forelock to frame the chiseled lines of his face and his mane to dance against the strong curve of his neck. Lingering quietly beneath the glowing light of the moons, movement suddenly grasps Renly’s attention. His pace slows nearly to a halt, ears pricking forward as his turquoise eyes are cast about, catching sight of a lone mare. He studies her for a short moment, noting the bowed lines of her slender body, and somehow recognizes something there. Sadness, loneliness—or so it would seem. He has always had his mother at his side, but oftentimes the Arabian feels alone, even lost, when he allows himself to be caught in the wickedness of the world. Sometimes, admittedly, he fears it is a battle he fights alone. His mother has always told him he is often far too solemn for his own good, and with her voice breezing through his thoughts, he steps forward. “Hello, milday,” Renly greets the lone mare chivalrously, stepping forward. The curve of his neck rounds as he bows his head to her—never forgetting the gallantry his mother hadn’t failed to teach him—the length of his red-threaded tail arching in true Arabian fashion. “I don’t suppose you’d mind some company this night?” He offers her a soft, crooked grin, his blue eyes sparkling beneath the night’s luminous light. ;; renly murexa x kahn || four || light [/justify] |
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Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum! #EpicStrut ![]() paper faces on parade; | ||||
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| Magnanimous | Jul 17 2015, 08:44 PM Post #3 | |||
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ANAEL; She's tired, more tired than she ever remembers, her whole body sagging and the years weighing down on her more heavily than they have before. But she still can't sleep; each noise is magnified ten-fold, each brush of a fly or the long grass at her hooves is another thing to fear. Every buzz is the bugs back to skin her alive. She still bears the scars on her flank from a near-brush with the Scourge. It is a memory Ana isn't fond of, but one that seems destined to remain prominent at every moment of the day. Ana catches movement out of the corner of her eye, unsure if she should even bother turning to look. More often than not, anything she catches turns out to be shadow. The unexplainably corporeal forms of the long-dead, back again to haunt her. Constantly being on edge, worried that this is the time she will finally happen upon one of the more malevolent misty black forms had her in a state of hypervigilance for days. Every nerve is on edge, and her muscles go from loose exhaustion to a tense and ready-to-flee state. There are still voices around her, and that was definitely movement, and Ana doesn't know what is real anymore. Just as suddenly, she doesn't care. Just as Ana's eyes slip closed, just as she tumbles toward a long needed sleep and decides to let what happen may, a soft voice breaks her from her thoughts. She startles, and her brown eyes open quickly as she stares at the stallion approaching. He's real? Unlike others she has been seeing lately, the trees aren't visible through him. He's a light red-grey color, spotted with white, and he's blessedly, actually there. The stallion that has approached her is handsome; he carries himself well and is of fine breeding, all long legs and delicate bone structure. His coat is an unusual color (though it has little on her own) and his pale eyes come as a pleasant surprise, only making him even more handsome. At his charming smile, Ana offers a half-hearted one of her own, the best she can manage at this point. "Hi," her voice is scratchy from disuse, and Ana glances away in embarrassment before clearing her throat and trying again. "Your company would be very welcome; the night is long yet, and those hours are better spent with someone to talk to. My name is Anael, it's a pleasure to meet you." That seems diplomatic enough, right? Not the desperate begging she's tempted to--anything to keep her awake, anything to keep the memories at bay. Instead it is simple and polite are far more equine than Ana feels right now. |
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![]() we are not things; those were her words! salome | ishtar | piper| riesling | rani | anael | iscaie | silas | faolan | sven | nyss| | ||||
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| `d e p p | Jul 20 2015, 04:46 PM Post #4 | |||
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I think everybody's nuts.
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OOC: Sorry this is a little different than my usual posts, idk I just ran with it xD![]() source [justify=400]. . . do you hear the people sing? . . . From beneath the luminous light of Kormada’s twin moons, the Arabian can see the shift of the mare’s lips as she smiles—the gesture brighter and more genuine than reality when swathed in the night’s shimmering light, concealing its gloom and softening her edges to graceful, elegant lines. Renly’s smile relaxes into a gentle curve, his strong and chiseled body coming to a comfortable halt before his maiden. She is beautiful, he notes as he allows his gaze to take her in with a modest, gentlemanly praise, ever mindful of his respect. He has never seen one of her coloring before—dappled much like his mother, but far more dramatic, and heightened with color that is dulled to a dark rose in the night’s glowing hour. He imagines that they are much the same, blushing bodies with a rosy, radiant light—inflicted, desperate, drawn together with silent pleas and beating hearts, not understanding the how, when, or why. They are here, and that is the now—is that not enough? The stallion’s turquoise eyes twinkle like starlight in the darkness, the bold, fine lines of his face softened by the kindness harbored in his expression. The mare’s welcome is short and rough, but he does not miss the honesty and benevolence that lie beneath the disuse, seemingly pleading and grasping his company with warm, bony fingers. Perhaps it is a result of his imagination—his mother has always told him he is a dreamer, albeit a solemn one. He dreams of a kinder, more merciful time. Would it be so bad to dream now, beneath the night’s starry blackness, with her? Perhaps it is better this way. “The pleasure is mine, Anael,” his low voice rumbles smoothly, fitting appropriately into the night’s fresh air with a generous smile and bright, watchful eyes. Renly bows his head once more in his chivalry, his dark muzzle dipping low to his chest and the tendrils of his reddish mane draping over his strong shoulders. “Thank you for your kindness. I, too, have found the night’s long hours to be much more forgiving when there is someone to share them with,” the Arabian continues with a crooked smile and broad voice. The length of his silken tail dances and entwines around his hocks, the long spring grasses tickling his lower legs in a way that would be uncomfortable if they were not bowed and softened with the season’s gentle dew. His nostrils curl and flare with every warm breath. “My name is Renly, from Cleric’s Realm. Perhaps you may have heard of it?” The rose gray does not assume her familiarity with Kormada, his tulip-shaped ears turning with the sounds of the night. ;; renly murexa x kahn || four || light [/justify] |
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Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum! #EpicStrut ![]() paper faces on parade; | ||||
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| devotchka | Jul 29 2015, 07:33 AM Post #5 | |||
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WELL SWEET MOTHER TERESA ON THE HOOD OF A MERCEDES BENZ
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9:15 AM Jul 11