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Current Novus date and time is

▶ Year || 502
▶ Season || Fall
▶ Temp || 35℉ (℃) - 69℉ (℃)
▶ Weather || The heat of the summer has begun to wane and cooler weather is spreading across Novus. Frost glistens in the morning light of some regions and the trees have shed their lush shades of green for those of red and orange. It is Fall now, but winter will soon be fast upon its heels.

Spotlight

Character of the Season
Eik

Member of the Season
Katherine

Thread of the Season
A Midsummer Night's Dream

Pair of the Season
Acton and Bexley

Quote of the Season
"If Reich had been the gunsmoke, Rhoswen was the gun - their youth swayed like washing in the wind, peaceful and unassuming, as though if they tried hard enough they might be able grab hold of it. Wasn't that the deceit of peaceful things? They drifted like butterflies just out of your reach." — Rhoswen in she was always meant to be a star

see here for nominations


DISCORD

Eksander
Day Court Warrior


The Character


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▶ Age: 9 [Year 492 Winter]
▶ Gender: female [she/her/hers]
▶ Orientation: heterosexual
▶ Breed: Percheron x Thoroughbred
▶ Height: 18.3 hh
▶ Health: 8
▶ Attack: 12
▶ Experience: 10
▶ Signos: 15 (Donate)

▶ Joined: 03-13-2018
▶ Last Visit: 03-23-2018, 02:04 AM
▶ Total Posts: 2 (Find All Posts)
▶ Total Threads: 1 (Find All Threads)

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A figure simultaneously masculine and delicately gilded, the beauty barely contains the ugliness. Wrought in power, Eksander is a mare that does not evoke erotica. Her musculature is machine-like, not bulging, with a prominent but supple appearance beneath her skin. When she moves, there is no fragility, no elegance—it is the contained grace of a warrior, a dancer in death. Many mistake her, at first, for a stallion. She is quite tall, at 18.3 hands, attributed to her mixed lineage of multiple draft breeds and thoroughbred. She is long of limb, broad of chest, powerful in the haunch and neck—but not bulky. The thoroughbred has tempered her girth, made her leaner than a full blood draft, and so she is neither cumbersome nor swift but somewhere between. A creature capable of bearing the brunt of great weights, but also possessing a great heart—she is an athlete, an extremist of physicality.

This sense of presence is well suited to her, as well—the large neck supports equally massive antlers, which crest out from behind her ears. The antlers are over three feet long and bear resemblance to that of an elk, aside from being the color of burnished gold. Additionally, Eksander sports a pair of massive wings. Their coloring is a light gray dapple, resembling uncertain clouds on the brink of a storm. They darken at the base, but there are notable glints of silver and gold within her feathers at random. Eksander has a black mane and tail, both of which are long and interwoven with rather randomly placed gold feathers.

In regards of the rest of her coloring, Eskander is more striking than she is beautiful. She is harsh and dark—but as mentioned before, she is a figure simultaneously masculine and delicately gilded. The majority of her body is covered in metallic gray dapple, which darkens at her stomach, legs, and haunches. By the time the dappling reaches her hooves, it is a storm cloud gray so dark it is almost black. The lightest dappling is at her back, and ascending her wings. There are veinlike markings of metallic gold woven throughout the dapples; they catch the light rather remarkably, at times, as does the entire coat of an Akhal-Teke. However, she has none in her lineage.

Eksander darkens rather abruptly at the neck. It is as though the mare has dipped her head, neck, and upper chest into black ink. This shade bleeds into her skin and does not appear in a straight line. Excluding her drastically black neck and face, Eksander resembles a storm that is darker on the bottom and lighter toward the top, ending in wingtips that are such a light gray they are nearly white. She is flashy only in the sense of size, and with the glitter of gold as it veins its way alongside her dapples.

Her eyes are the final shocking attribute. Set against her black face, they are brilliant crimson.

Positive: Loyal, hardworking, disciplined, honest, honorable, confident, outspoken, ambitious

Negative: Abrasive, occasionally impulsive, cruelly honest, insecure, combative, sexist, prideful, apathetic/withdrawn, distrustful, savage, over-ambitous, rebellious

Eksander’s personality matches her appearance. The mare is a force to be reckoned with. Outspoken and brash, it would appear they would set the stage for worrisome downfalls . But when paired with remarkable strategy and calculation, these “negative” traits become assets. Eksander is disciplined in many regards of life, and in some others utterly indifferent. For one, she rarely concerns herself with the opinions of others—as a child she was always a black sheep, you see, and rather than succumb to being an outcast she embraced the differences. Now, Eksander seeks to please no one and her incentives always belong to herself.

Her pursuit in life is simple at best: she wants happiness. Unfortunately, this is complicated by her ideal of greatness. To be happy, Eksander requires the world. She is insatiable; Eksander would claim a continent, and it would not be enough for her. Interestingly, she is not pleased by material riches. Contrarily, “greatness” translates into grand occurrences, into adventures that would be considered impossible. Eksander is almost pitiless in this pursuit; she must be remembered and is indifferent if she is remembered for being kind of cruel. Eksander embodies the Greek ideology of "hero". She is not the humble, kind creature of our modern world. No, she possesses the wrath of an Achilles, the strength of Hercules, and the faults of all those legends. She is larger than life. Her pride is her undoing; her longing to become legend is the same curse Achilles bore and, with that in mind, she does not understand what is sacrificed in such a pursuit: everything that matters.

When it comes to personal relationships she has a flare for the dramatic. This can make her distasteful for some as, in addition dramatizing, she is a creature of extremes. For one, she is extremely honest. It may be a virtue—but for many others, it is a curse. She is not silver-tongued and speaks rather abrasively; she will call out others for bad behavior, and conducts herself within the confines of her own idea of honor, impervious to the moral refrains of companions or enemies alike. However, this gives her an independent streak that makes Eksander difficult to befriend, and even rebellious.

On the off chance a relationship is formed with the mare, she is loyal to a fault. Eksander will go to the end of the earth for those she deems worthy—and she will commit herself to another’s work, if she believes it to be great. However, this can be an extreme like every other aspect of her personality. She will allow others to treat her cruelly, disloyally, indifferently with a patience that is almost godlike… until, suddenly, it is gone. And then the proud mare is a vengeful behemoth, a glutton for punishing those that have earned her wrath.

Eksander is overwhelmingly extreme—opinionated, sudden, sometimes cruel, she impulsively follows her own fancy. Her black and white morality can be considered cruel; in addition, her pride is quite sinful. Yet, surprisingly enough, beneath all of these ornery characteristics, she is a raging sentimentalist. Eksander’s heart has been broken and so she is now impassioned not by relationships, but by her work—despite this, she remained nuanced, and has moments of remarkable thoughtfulness. She is tender beneath the abrasive, overbearing front—and is a creature of intense fragility in this regard. She loves deeply, both the world and others, and finds herself self-deprecating in her inability to hold relationships well. Her pride, combative nature, and overconfidence thinly veil an insecurity that eats away at her.

She is very lonely, you see, and extremely malcontent. No amount of fame, glory, or honor can change this.

And this loneliness is often taken out on stallions; she treats them with a certain savagery. They are competitors, you see; and she holds the pessimistic belief that they will never regard her equally. Thus, Eksander parades herself and belittles them simply for their gender. This sexism is complicated by further insecurity; Eksander wants their approval on a basis of their gender. She wants to be accepted as a brother is, as a best friend, as a warrior and often finds herself falling short of all of these classifications because, quite frankly, she cannot be these in the masculine sense and struggles with accepting the fact.

The name she bears now is not the one she was born with. For the sake of the story, it will remain Eksander throughout.

There was little romance between Eksander’s parents. She comes from a land far from Novus, where the herds were full of warmongers and existed within a hierarchy of ranks. The mares sought protection from strong bands of traveling stallions who, in exchange for that protection, were allowed to breed with the mares of their choosing.


Eksander’s mother, Cleopatra, was “wed” to a domineering stallion Crixus. Before Eksander was even born, he had ambitiously changed the existing hierarchy of the territory, Rosandal. He and his followers had defeated nearby herds and subjected them to their dominion through force. They offered peace, or war. In exchange of allegiance, Crixus and his followers would no longer pillage, rape, or kill. They were conquerors and within a short span Crixus had organized Rosandal to his liking. He lived as a king.

With that in mind, Crixus formed a “nation” of several herds. Cleopatra was known for being the most delicate and beautiful of mares in the area and she became his queen. The relationship was loveless. Eksander was born into a world of fragile peace and hidden resentment. Many of the herds were forced to combine, creating a massive group kept in check by Crixus and his loyalists. This resulted in a clash of cultures, interests, ideals, and in some cases even languages. They were savage herds, you see—prideful and traditional. Tribesmen.

Eksander was one of two foals. The second-born, but larger than her brother Sebastian. She was also more fierce. Eksander inherited the traits of her father rather than the delicacy of her mother and her brother would always resent her for that. Crixus wanted an heir worthy of a throne; instead, he was given a trembling boy and a brazen girl. He believed mares were for beauty and the raising of foals—and that is what Eksander was taught from a young age, while her brother was taught the ways of a warrior.

With that in mind, Eksander did not have a bad upbringing. She loved her father and mother dearly, and Cleopatra, despite the resentment she felt toward Crixus, never allowed this to show to Eksander. Eksander was raised to be feminine and elegant, despite her size. She was not bitter of this; in fact, she had little inclination to behave as the males did. Therefore, she grew up ignorant of why her brother disdained her natural athleticism and leadership ability. Eksander was quite popular among the female foals and her father adored her for her spirit.

These were the happiest years of Eksander’s life—her adolescence. She was groomed to be deeply philosophical, intellectual, and pleasing to be around. An excellent conversationalist, a devoted wife-to-be. However she was, with her father’s limited knowledge, raised to Cleopatra’s ideologies. She was a tribeswoman who came from a line of priestess—and her family worshiped the gods of fear and death. Eksander gained her courage from these cultish practices and it would serve her well in later years.

Everything changed when she began to grow. Her brother Sebastian was the heir; and Eksander became a political prospect. She would be “wed” to the most advantageous male. This happened to be a stallion far from her homeland, on the very borders, who had reign over a “kingdom” near Crixus’. They had fought many battles and both had grown tired of it. Eksander was given to this stallion’s son as a token of peace.

This was her purpose in life. And she submitted to it so diligently, so readily; all of her passion and spirit went to pleasing her mate, Andreas. The first year of their union was a blissfully happy one. He was quite intelligent, driven, and ambitious. But what was luckier, was his compassion. He was captivated by the ferocity of Eksander; he admired her beauty, strength, and wit. It brought their herds together without violence, and Eksander felt as though she were doing something great, something larger than herself. She was six years old and the next step to their plan of sustained peace was an heir.

They tried. And they tried. And they tried.

Eksander was barren.

Simultaneously, there had been growing resentment among the herds subjected beneath Crixus. Old leaders and new ones who had given up so much to be under his rule were now aware of his waning age. His son was a weakling; his daughter was incapable of producing offspring. Andreas father, Thadeus, was displeased with their political deal. There could be no lasting peace without shared blood to bind the two kings.

Her relationship with Andreas, who she loved dearly, became corrupted by her fault. He began to abuse her. Not physically, you can see—but his intellect became cruel, and he blamed her for the growing discontent among their families and for the pressure his father put him under. “What is a woman, if not a broodmare?” He roared at her one evening. “What are you, if you are incapable of that? Of doing the one powerful thing a mare is capable of?” Eksander, of course, could not quite understand this change--she truly loved him. This devotion was blind. She wanted to please him more than anything.

A civil war broke out among the tribes—and Eksander, given as a bride to another family, could not help her father. The news came that he had been killed in the uprising, her brother had fled, and her mother had disappeared into the mountains with her old herd to practice their ancestral beliefs without subjection.

She no longer held any value. She came to realize it had always been connected to others; she had never held importance as an individual, but as her father’s daughter, as a potential mother, as a political piece. Eksander had no power with Thadeus as king and in her union to Andreas. The prince soon grew tired of her, the mare with no family, with a barren womb. He took on lovers and Eksander was pushed aside. She was no longer a peace-bringer, but an unwanted remnant of a fallen kingdom.

She grew bitter, but had no where else to go. This bitterness drove her back to the only thing she knew: her mother’s religion. And in her depression, in her growing wrath, she listened to her god of fear and her god of death. She went to kill him one night, as he slept. But she could not bring herself to it; and this moment shattered what was left in Eksander. She was simultaneously too weak to commit the deed, but so vengeful she did not recognize herself.

That same night, she fled. And in many ways has been fleeing ever since.

Eksander had never depended on herself—and now she was forced to. She could not navigate; at many points she found herself crossing over her previous tracks, lost, and it was nothing short of a miracle she was not found and sentenced to death. During the next several months, she almost starved. At other points, she almost died. She was forced to fight for her survival.

Eventually, she found a ragtag group of horses who were traveling, like herself. They were a group of cutthroats; rugged survivalist who had been forced out of their herds or abandoned, like herself. She changed her name to Eksander and reinvented herself. They accepted her doubtfully, uncertainly—she had to prove herself constantly. But she did. She did not grow attached to any of them, but she learned things she never would have otherwise; she learned how to fight, how to state her opinion, and how each of them shared one thing in common. They survived because they refused to submit to the authority of others; they refused to change themselves, to curtail their beliefs, to be “quiet”. She was surprised to discover that they did not possess the same sexism as her parental herd. They were openminded, and taught her a tremendous amount.

Eksander, however, had learned all that she could from them. She was possessed by a hunger for more. She was cursed with the same ambition of her father, but she had spent years contemplating his immorality. Now, she sought something more than herself once more. Eksander had travelled hundred of miles; when she split from her group, she wandered for many more days. When she finally stopped, it was in a clearing. She felt drawn to it…

Surrounded by towering, ancient oaks, it held an aura of importance. She tread lightly to the center, and then realized there was an aged stallion resting beneath one of the oaks. She approached and asked where she was. Novus Eksander then asked the history of the place, what it means to be there—

And he answered: Many, many years ago, Novus was a new and alluring land unknown to all but one…

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The Player

▶ Player Name: syndicate (Profile)
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I am syndicate. I like horses and dogs and big cats, specifically lions. Also military things, Greek and Roman history, and ice cream.


  


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