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Description

Last updates:
Written: 06/02/2020
Drawn: 06/03/2020
[Image]
Nazarath
In the ocean deep
In the canyons steep
Walls of granite here I stand
All my desperate calls
Echo off the walls
Back and forth
Then back again

[Image]
✘IDENTIFICATION
Nazarath | Naz - ah - wrath

○Nickame: Naz
○Age: 50
-Birthday May 13th, 1651
○Gender: Female
○Orientation: Bisexual [Closeted]
Status: Single
○Herd: War Forged
○Rank: Raider
○Living Arrangements: -Her deceased husbands homestead.
○Patron god: Kaia
○Talents: [LOCKED]
○Blessings: [LOCKED]
○Parents:
Mother: Nix
Father: Creed
○Siblings:
None
○Cousins:
- Available for connections
○Children:
none

[Image]
✘APPEARANCE
○Species: Unicorn
○Height: 15hh
○Genotype: ---
○Phenotype: ---
○Design Notes
-She lost about half the length of her tail.
○Accessories & Possessions:
Pelt [Free herd item]
Horseshoes [Free herd item]
Flask [Free herd item]
Harness
Scarf

[Image]
✘PERSONALITY
Shrewd | Patient | Explorative | Orderly | Stubborn | Resentful | Workaholic | Resilient | Unforgiving | Content

○ Shrewd
-While Nazarath has spent the majority of her life one step behind the stallions of her herd, Nazarath has also spent that whole time drinking in the knowledge as well. On her own, she already has a sharp mind, but by watching and listening to her stallion counterparts, she has spent a lifetime gathering and storing information, which for many years seemed like a useless cache of knowledge.
○ Patient
-Having spent a veritable lifetime being told she was lesser, weaker, less intelligent, she has perfected the art of biting her tongue when necessary, waiting for the moment to gain the upper hand. Nazarath plays for the long game, truly calculating her moves before she acts on them.
○ Explorative
-Nazarath is always looking for new knowledge, happy to drink in any tidbit she gets her hooves on.
○ Orderly
-Naz doesn't like messes, really, of any kind. She doesn't keep many possessions of her own, and what few she has, she always makes sure they were neatly arranged and well cared for.
○ Stubborn
-Naz does not take no for an answer. Once her mind is set, she will not falter, she will not waiver. Nazarath will dig her hooves into the ground as surely as a tree taking root.
○ Resentful
-There is a small part of her that resents that the majority of her life was spent tending fields and animals because of her gender. Nazarath wanted more as a child, and is upset that her father and their traditions cut out a whole career path, and it manifests itself from time to time in physical aggression, though usually that just means she takes her frustrations out on a poor unsuspecting plot of field she needs to plow, or a tree that needs to be culled.
○ Workaholic
-Nazarath really doesn't know what to do with herself if she's not being productive. The feeling is only compounded when she is in a bad mood, you'll often find her out in the field tending the crops and ripping weeds out, or making renovations to the house and barn.
○ Resilient
-Nothing can keep Nazarath down for long. She has a soul that cannot accept defeat and will always pick herself back up when she falls. Even when she feels she can go no further, it is as if her body itself won't let her quit. Whether it is pride, determination, an unrelenting stubbornness, or just an inability to know when she's had enough, she doesn't know.
○ Unforgiving
-Naz's heart has hardened to the world, after her father gave her no mercy and no pause. She has no time, and very little ability for forgiveness. If she is crossed by someone, that person ceases to exist in her world.
○Content
-Nazarath loves her life, and will tell you as such. Her husband wasn't the love of her life, but she did love him in her own way. Yes, her childhood dreams did not include much of what her life entailed, but it was perhaps exactly because of that, that has given her clarity about what a good life she's led so far.

[Image]
✘BIOGRAPHY
x
Born as a mare, Nazareth was destined for the softer, though no less demanding, life that came along with her gender. As a child, she was headstrong, loved picking fights with the colts, and was generally a disobedient offspring. Her mother did all she could to teach Nazarath the tasks that were designated to their roles in their herd. Nazareth, while an unyielding and brazen child, was also a quick study, picking up on fashioning crude, though sturdy clothes, binding minor injuries, tending to livestock. It wasn’t that she couldn’t do these tasks, in fact, over time she became quite proficient. Rather, it was all a tedious monotony day in and day out. Her father was a Raider. Her uncle was a Raider. Several of her extended family members; Raiders. Hearing stories of raids, battles, skirmishes filled her heart with a yearning. She too, would become a Raider just like her father. Life in the War Forged however, had other plans for the young filly.

When it came, however, for Nazarath to become an apprentice, her grand dreams and plans for a glorious and bloody livelihood were all but laughed right out the door. Her father made sure to snuff out any plans she had to challenge her way into the Raiders the hard way. He told her that if she could beat him in a fight, privately, only then would he allow her to bring shame to the family by dishonoring the stallions of their herd by daring to join the Raiders’ ranks. It was cruel, and very short lived. Her father made very quick work of defeating her, and in the process, cost Nazarath half of her tail for her insubordination for his troubles.

With her pride in tatters, and her confidence shaken, Nazarath accepted her role in life as a mare, a lesser citizen in the eyes of half of the herd.

Her loss would not destroy her though. She threw herself into tending the family farm. Nazarath would be the very best she could be, she would prove herself stronger than her defeat, even if she was not to become a Raider.

Her teen years passed before her eyes, and she grew into a woman, albeit a rather feral one. Upon her eighteenth birthday, her father announced she was to be betrothed. Whatever feelings she might have on the subject were to be ignored, and she was to accept the marriage happily. While she was not terribly fond of her arranged marriage, she came to quite enjoy the company of her betrothed. The stallion, while not someone she would have chosen, was kind and witty. Eventually they would grow to become quite good friends, and he would be her confidant, and her rock in hard times. Their marriage happened quickly, and with little fanfare, though was graced with approval from the War Lord. Her life as a married woman did not seem much different than her life before, and she supposed that was normal. Hephaestus was not home often, leaving at dawn, and did not arrive back until dusk the majority of the time. The first few years were a little lonely for Nazarath, for his family home was not densely populated, and they didn’t ever really talk about children, or the idea of having them.

Years passed, and the two became quite close, even if they were not in love with each other, they did love each other. Naz ended up telling him about her childhood dreams, confiding in him her desires to become a Raider, even when the whole herd seemed against it. At first, he too did not fully understand her desire. A female being a Raider? It just wasn’t done. Nazarath passed it off as an errant childhood pipedream, insisting that phase of her life was well behind her, even if she was lying through her teeth.

Hephaestus by this point knew her well enough to know she was hiding the truth, and eventually accepted this facet of her person. While he had long since retired from being a Raider, now instead, a member of the Stone Circle, he decided he would teach her, privately, how to fight. His reasoning was that while she may never be an actual Raider, it wouldn’t hurt for her to know how to fight, afterall, there were whispers of unsavory folk around who were cultists. With his days no longer dawn to dusk, he had spare time on his hooves anyways, plus it kept him fighting prime. At least, that’s what he told himself.

One winter was particularly harsh for the couple, and try as they might, between the terrain, the emboldened Bloody Flanks, and cultists, that winter was destined to claim one of their lives. Hephaestus was no longer in his prime, and each year the cold sunk a little deeper into his weary bones. This year however, the cold sunk into his lungs. A particularly detrimental respiratory infection claimed his life days before the new year. His parting words to Nazarath were a plea. “You have spent a lifetime with a heart hollowed by a passion denied. No more. I should have encouraged you years ago, but I was a fool, and blinded by our traditions and pride. Take up my sword and use the knowledge I taught you. Be the Raider you were destined to be, and know I will be with you every step of the way.”

Naz spent the following week mourning the loss of Hephaestus, alone in their cold and suddenly barren home. While she had not imagined her life turning out the way it had, when she was a filly, she sorely missed the stallion who claimed a large space in her heart. Her best friend was gone. Nazarath would not let his parting words with her be in vain. With a solemn, but determined aura settling around her like a well worn cloak, she left their home, making her way to Skeldr Town. This would not be like the fight she had with her father. This time, she was prepared.

Heading straight for the training grounds, she made sure that she arrived at dawn, armed with only her husband’s sword and a stubbornness that had been built brick by brick over a lifetime. The new War Lord was rumored to be at the training grounds every morning as well, and if this ended poorly, her failure would be known by their leader, and her fate would be unknown. But failure was not an option.

Stepping into the ring, her arrival was met first by silence, then a growing cadence of jeers, insults and taunts. Surely this aged crone couldn’t be serious? Refusing to move from the ring until someone squared up against her, Nazarath waited silently. Finally, with an angry snort, one of the Raiders stood opposite of her, promising her that he would take no pleasure in teaching her that she clearly did not belong, that winning this fight would bring him no honor either.

The clash of bodies and metals was surrounded by a silent crowd. Nazarath fought as if Kaia herself was judging the mare. The Raider, clearly not expecting to have to put up much of a fight, quickly adjusted tactics. The clang of the swords being swung into each other echoed in both of their ears, sweat beading and trickling from both of them. Around them, the other Raiders were no longer silent. Cheering and chanting, hoof stomping and snorting, the Raiders jeered, urging their comrade to finish the mare off and stop playing.

Their cacophony of sound was silenced in an instant when Nazarath gained the upper hoof and with a quick flourish, finished the fight, her sword pressing daintily, though firmly against the throat of her opponent, his sword falling to the ground with a clatter. The pair stood in the ring, facing each other, panting heavily, before Nazarath broke her gaze and turned to look at the War Lord with defiance in her eyes.

Praxitelles, for his part, did not speak, only entering the ring himself, dismissing the Raider with a flick of his head. Getting into position, and drawing his weapon, Prax nodded to Nazarath to begin. With her heart still thudding and flooded with adrenaline, Nazarath dug her hooves into the ground and lunged with a battle cry. The pair traded blows for what seemed like an eternity, though it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Prax surged forward and locked blades with Nazarath before shoving her back and ending the match.

Standing there for a few minutes while Prax considered her, Nazarath couldn’t move a muscle, every single detail of that moment being etched forever into her memory. With a quick, nearly imperceptible nod of his head, Prax changed her life irrevocably, and set a precedent throughout the herd. Nazarath is now a Raider, and faces countless hardships that still lie ahead.

---

Word count: 1487

✘Trackers

✘Trivia
○
○
○

✘Timeline
○ Year 1651 - Nazarath was born
○ Year 1663 - Turns 12 and loses her fight with her father, loses her tail
○ Year 1669 - Meets her betrothed and is married

○ Year 1682 - Husband retires as a Raider, becomes a Stone Circle member

○ Year 1683 - Hephaestus begins teaching Nazarath
○ Year 1702 - New year

Nazarath (c): me
Design by: ebbarie

Description

Last updates:
Written: 06/02/2020
Drawn: 06/03/2020
[Image]
Nazarath
In the ocean deep
In the canyons steep
Walls of granite here I stand
All my desperate calls
Echo off the walls
Back and forth
Then back again

[Image]
✘IDENTIFICATION
Nazarath | Naz - ah - wrath

○Nickame: Naz
○Age: 50
-Birthday May 13th, 1651
○Gender: Female
○Orientation: Bisexual [Closeted]
Status: Single
○Herd: War Forged
○Rank: Raider
○Living Arrangements: -Her deceased husbands homestead.
○Patron god: Kaia
○Talents: [LOCKED]
○Blessings: [LOCKED]
○Parents:
Mother: Nix
Father: Creed
○Siblings:
None
○Cousins:
- Available for connections
○Children:
none

[Image]
✘APPEARANCE
○Species: Unicorn
○Height: 15hh
○Genotype: ---
○Phenotype: ---
○Design Notes
-She lost about half the length of her tail.
○Accessories & Possessions:
Pelt [Free herd item]
Horseshoes [Free herd item]
Flask [Free herd item]
Harness
Scarf

[Image]
✘PERSONALITY
Shrewd | Patient | Explorative | Orderly | Stubborn | Resentful | Workaholic | Resilient | Unforgiving | Content

○ Shrewd
-While Nazarath has spent the majority of her life one step behind the stallions of her herd, Nazarath has also spent that whole time drinking in the knowledge as well. On her own, she already has a sharp mind, but by watching and listening to her stallion counterparts, she has spent a lifetime gathering and storing information, which for many years seemed like a useless cache of knowledge.
○ Patient
-Having spent a veritable lifetime being told she was lesser, weaker, less intelligent, she has perfected the art of biting her tongue when necessary, waiting for the moment to gain the upper hand. Nazarath plays for the long game, truly calculating her moves before she acts on them.
○ Explorative
-Nazarath is always looking for new knowledge, happy to drink in any tidbit she gets her hooves on.
○ Orderly
-Naz doesn't like messes, really, of any kind. She doesn't keep many possessions of her own, and what few she has, she always makes sure they were neatly arranged and well cared for.
○ Stubborn
-Naz does not take no for an answer. Once her mind is set, she will not falter, she will not waiver. Nazarath will dig her hooves into the ground as surely as a tree taking root.
○ Resentful
-There is a small part of her that resents that the majority of her life was spent tending fields and animals because of her gender. Nazarath wanted more as a child, and is upset that her father and their traditions cut out a whole career path, and it manifests itself from time to time in physical aggression, though usually that just means she takes her frustrations out on a poor unsuspecting plot of field she needs to plow, or a tree that needs to be culled.
○ Workaholic
-Nazarath really doesn't know what to do with herself if she's not being productive. The feeling is only compounded when she is in a bad mood, you'll often find her out in the field tending the crops and ripping weeds out, or making renovations to the house and barn.
○ Resilient
-Nothing can keep Nazarath down for long. She has a soul that cannot accept defeat and will always pick herself back up when she falls. Even when she feels she can go no further, it is as if her body itself won't let her quit. Whether it is pride, determination, an unrelenting stubbornness, or just an inability to know when she's had enough, she doesn't know.
○ Unforgiving
-Naz's heart has hardened to the world, after her father gave her no mercy and no pause. She has no time, and very little ability for forgiveness. If she is crossed by someone, that person ceases to exist in her world.
○Content
-Nazarath loves her life, and will tell you as such. Her husband wasn't the love of her life, but she did love him in her own way. Yes, her childhood dreams did not include much of what her life entailed, but it was perhaps exactly because of that, that has given her clarity about what a good life she's led so far.

[Image]
✘BIOGRAPHY
x
Born as a mare, Nazareth was destined for the softer, though no less demanding, life that came along with her gender. As a child, she was headstrong, loved picking fights with the colts, and was generally a disobedient offspring. Her mother did all she could to teach Nazarath the tasks that were designated to their roles in their herd. Nazareth, while an unyielding and brazen child, was also a quick study, picking up on fashioning crude, though sturdy clothes, binding minor injuries, tending to livestock. It wasn’t that she couldn’t do these tasks, in fact, over time she became quite proficient. Rather, it was all a tedious monotony day in and day out. Her father was a Raider. Her uncle was a Raider. Several of her extended family members; Raiders. Hearing stories of raids, battles, skirmishes filled her heart with a yearning. She too, would become a Raider just like her father. Life in the War Forged however, had other plans for the young filly.

When it came, however, for Nazarath to become an apprentice, her grand dreams and plans for a glorious and bloody livelihood were all but laughed right out the door. Her father made sure to snuff out any plans she had to challenge her way into the Raiders the hard way. He told her that if she could beat him in a fight, privately, only then would he allow her to bring shame to the family by dishonoring the stallions of their herd by daring to join the Raiders’ ranks. It was cruel, and very short lived. Her father made very quick work of defeating her, and in the process, cost Nazarath half of her tail for her insubordination for his troubles.

With her pride in tatters, and her confidence shaken, Nazarath accepted her role in life as a mare, a lesser citizen in the eyes of half of the herd.

Her loss would not destroy her though. She threw herself into tending the family farm. Nazarath would be the very best she could be, she would prove herself stronger than her defeat, even if she was not to become a Raider.

Her teen years passed before her eyes, and she grew into a woman, albeit a rather feral one. Upon her eighteenth birthday, her father announced she was to be betrothed. Whatever feelings she might have on the subject were to be ignored, and she was to accept the marriage happily. While she was not terribly fond of her arranged marriage, she came to quite enjoy the company of her betrothed. The stallion, while not someone she would have chosen, was kind and witty. Eventually they would grow to become quite good friends, and he would be her confidant, and her rock in hard times. Their marriage happened quickly, and with little fanfare, though was graced with approval from the War Lord. Her life as a married woman did not seem much different than her life before, and she supposed that was normal. Hephaestus was not home often, leaving at dawn, and did not arrive back until dusk the majority of the time. The first few years were a little lonely for Nazarath, for his family home was not densely populated, and they didn’t ever really talk about children, or the idea of having them.

Years passed, and the two became quite close, even if they were not in love with each other, they did love each other. Naz ended up telling him about her childhood dreams, confiding in him her desires to become a Raider, even when the whole herd seemed against it. At first, he too did not fully understand her desire. A female being a Raider? It just wasn’t done. Nazarath passed it off as an errant childhood pipedream, insisting that phase of her life was well behind her, even if she was lying through her teeth.

Hephaestus by this point knew her well enough to know she was hiding the truth, and eventually accepted this facet of her person. While he had long since retired from being a Raider, now instead, a member of the Stone Circle, he decided he would teach her, privately, how to fight. His reasoning was that while she may never be an actual Raider, it wouldn’t hurt for her to know how to fight, afterall, there were whispers of unsavory folk around who were cultists. With his days no longer dawn to dusk, he had spare time on his hooves anyways, plus it kept him fighting prime. At least, that’s what he told himself.

One winter was particularly harsh for the couple, and try as they might, between the terrain, the emboldened Bloody Flanks, and cultists, that winter was destined to claim one of their lives. Hephaestus was no longer in his prime, and each year the cold sunk a little deeper into his weary bones. This year however, the cold sunk into his lungs. A particularly detrimental respiratory infection claimed his life days before the new year. His parting words to Nazarath were a plea. “You have spent a lifetime with a heart hollowed by a passion denied. No more. I should have encouraged you years ago, but I was a fool, and blinded by our traditions and pride. Take up my sword and use the knowledge I taught you. Be the Raider you were destined to be, and know I will be with you every step of the way.”

Naz spent the following week mourning the loss of Hephaestus, alone in their cold and suddenly barren home. While she had not imagined her life turning out the way it had, when she was a filly, she sorely missed the stallion who claimed a large space in her heart. Her best friend was gone. Nazarath would not let his parting words with her be in vain. With a solemn, but determined aura settling around her like a well worn cloak, she left their home, making her way to Skeldr Town. This would not be like the fight she had with her father. This time, she was prepared.

Heading straight for the training grounds, she made sure that she arrived at dawn, armed with only her husband’s sword and a stubbornness that had been built brick by brick over a lifetime. The new War Lord was rumored to be at the training grounds every morning as well, and if this ended poorly, her failure would be known by their leader, and her fate would be unknown. But failure was not an option.

Stepping into the ring, her arrival was met first by silence, then a growing cadence of jeers, insults and taunts. Surely this aged crone couldn’t be serious? Refusing to move from the ring until someone squared up against her, Nazarath waited silently. Finally, with an angry snort, one of the Raiders stood opposite of her, promising her that he would take no pleasure in teaching her that she clearly did not belong, that winning this fight would bring him no honor either.

The clash of bodies and metals was surrounded by a silent crowd. Nazarath fought as if Kaia herself was judging the mare. The Raider, clearly not expecting to have to put up much of a fight, quickly adjusted tactics. The clang of the swords being swung into each other echoed in both of their ears, sweat beading and trickling from both of them. Around them, the other Raiders were no longer silent. Cheering and chanting, hoof stomping and snorting, the Raiders jeered, urging their comrade to finish the mare off and stop playing.

Their cacophony of sound was silenced in an instant when Nazarath gained the upper hoof and with a quick flourish, finished the fight, her sword pressing daintily, though firmly against the throat of her opponent, his sword falling to the ground with a clatter. The pair stood in the ring, facing each other, panting heavily, before Nazarath broke her gaze and turned to look at the War Lord with defiance in her eyes.

Praxitelles, for his part, did not speak, only entering the ring himself, dismissing the Raider with a flick of his head. Getting into position, and drawing his weapon, Prax nodded to Nazarath to begin. With her heart still thudding and flooded with adrenaline, Nazarath dug her hooves into the ground and lunged with a battle cry. The pair traded blows for what seemed like an eternity, though it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Prax surged forward and locked blades with Nazarath before shoving her back and ending the match.

Standing there for a few minutes while Prax considered her, Nazarath couldn’t move a muscle, every single detail of that moment being etched forever into her memory. With a quick, nearly imperceptible nod of his head, Prax changed her life irrevocably, and set a precedent throughout the herd. Nazarath is now a Raider, and faces countless hardships that still lie ahead.

---

Word count: 1487

✘Trackers

✘Trivia
○
○
○

✘Timeline
○ Year 1651 - Nazarath was born
○ Year 1663 - Turns 12 and loses her fight with her father, loses her tail
○ Year 1669 - Meets her betrothed and is married

○ Year 1682 - Husband retires as a Raider, becomes a Stone Circle member

○ Year 1683 - Hephaestus begins teaching Nazarath
○ Year 1702 - New year

Nazarath (c): me
Design by: ebbarie