Character OTS


Björn & Lirr

Couple OTS


User Avatar
  • OOC Name: N A K I
  • Total Posts: 21 (Find All Posts)
  • Rank: Exile
  • Age & Season: 6 (Summer ☀︎)
  • Species Equine
  • Lineage: Local
  • Height: 10hh
  • Sex: Mare
  • Mate: None
  • Crystals: 300
  • Tag: @[Aishe]


I was born in the wagon of a travellin' show My mama used to dance for the money they'd throw

Outpost Items

OOC & Character(s)


Standing before you is a woman with little pizzazz in terms of appearance. While the masses of the world flaunt vibrant, unique palettes, Aishe claims her territory in the earthy brown department. A mix of chocolate and creme, it gives her an advantage many overlook. Complete with primitive markings on her legs and shoulders, there are times and places the young donkey is difficult to spot.

Aishe lacks a mane, having her mama (may she rest in peace)cut it off as a young girl not long after they sought safe haven in the oasis. Since that dreadful night the woman has kept it the same. Preferring to appear more masculine than others, Aishe believes this will ward off would-be attackers.

On her nose lies a curious thing; a small broken horn of vibrant color. Perhaps the most eye catching thing about her, save for the color of her eyes, it's composition is crystal like in nature. It can, at times, refract light in hues of blue, pink and deep purple. Make no mistake, however, this tiny accessory is more than just something to admire and look at. It is, at it's core, a weapon at her very disposal.

--outfit description to come soon--


Sense of humor: Perhaps the unexpected quality she harbors is her wicked sense of sarcastic humor. She diffuses tense situations with it, and, often seeks to brighten the mood with silly puns or badly timed jokes that could make anyone grin. She isn't afraid to make fun of herself (don't let her fool you, she does it because she doesn't know how to treat her depression at times) but hardly ever pokes fun at others just for the hell of it. Normally her sarcasm, when turned into a weapon, is directed towards a threat of some sort to which she knows she can outsmart.

Hardened: Being cast out had not always been butterflies and rainbows. Aishe knows the difficult life, and knows that she cannot depend on others easily, if at all. A select few may claim the title as 'friend' within her sphere of influence, but very little will ever get past the outer layers of this complex little nugget. Aishe doesn't tolerate someone of the privileged life easily, often jumping to conclusions about them based on appearance alone. If they are blind to her existence, why should she give them the time of day?

Determined: When she had been severely wounded, it was unsure whether her survival would be worth it. Thus, when the young donkey pulled through, she was headstrong in destroying all pity and preconceived notions of her there after. Just because she wasn't like the others did not mean she didn't deserve life.

Compassionate: To fellow Exiles, Aishe has a heart of gold--especially to the ones in similar boats as herself.

Proud: One wouldn't expect an exile to boast about such a lifestyle, but Aishe will--and does. She is proud that she is unbent and unbroken in this harsh wasteland. Though she'd walked through the fires of one warden to the next, the romani had always harbored the heart of a nomadic. There is a certain pride in the fact she has survived this long, and she wears it like a badge around her neck.


Fairytales are bullshit.

There is nothing in this world golden and pure, no prince charming to sweep a lovely princess off her feet and no knight in shining armor to slay the monsters under the bed. There is only pain, the drudging repetitiveness of life, and then death. Some of us are called before our time, and others live far too long.

From an early age she learned the harsh lessons of life, as her mother had been taken and taken again by stallion after stallion to ensure their safe passage across the barren lands. Her father remains an enigma, even to this day; and the filly had seen nothing but cruelty and lust burn in the eyes of men.

By the time she was two years of age, her mother had told her there was a safe-haven in the wilderness. She had heard whispers between the few they'd come across, speaking of an oasis controlled by a stallion named Saren. They told of horror, of awful deeds and tyranny--but Aishe's mother cared not. She saw it as an opportunity to ensure some form of security for her daughter's well-being....if only she had known.

When they arrived, those loyal to the Warden escorted them to their leader. He was a tower compared to the two, baroque, colored in grey with dapples as an accent along his strong-looking hide. His very demeanor exuded power, dominance, it had made the young filly shudder in fear--a new kind of fear that Aishe had never quite felt before. It was as if she were looking at her own death, right in the eye, helpless to do a damn thing about it. There were words exchanged, but she couldn't tell you what, and a bellowing almost menacing laugh had once erupted from the bowels of the giant stallion; Warden Saren had the grin of a bloodthirsty predator as he offered her mother a moment to speak. The woman had smiled at her daughter, before leaving her in the presence of strangers.

Hours had passed, yet there had been no sign of her mother's return. Aishe waited with a growing unease deep in her belly, anxiously gnawing on the tongue between her teeth. As the sun had set, and the Warden returned, it soon became all too clear. His grey hide was stained in red--the smell of irony liquid hit her nose like the festering stench of a long-dead cadaver. All the charm from before had melted into nothing but horror in the eyes of young Aishe; before the filly could find the courage to flee from this wretched place she was overcome by the loyalists. One had taken his mouth to her small neck, teeth holding her so tight she struggled to move. Another had bitten at her shoulders as a squeal snorted from her nose. They held her still in the presence of their leader as he spoke;

"whores bear only whores--you'll do just fine"

She speaks little of the days after, for she wishes to remove them from her memory entirely. The nomadic filly grew into a woman and was but one of many in a harem of females used only for pleasure at the behest of their Warden. Years went by before Saren had been met with a challenger worthy of such a thing; a far younger stallion whose hooves shook the ground like thunder. Aishe had not seen this man prior to the confrontation, but when the Warden fell, she couldn't have been more happy--despite all the unknowns. It was just as likely that the challenger would be far worse than Saren ever had, perhaps he'd even kill each and every one--even the children begot by their dappled sire. In the skirmish that had broken out, the young woman had been caught by one of the loyalists--in a feeble attempt to fight and escape Aishe had been severily wounded.

In her attempt to flee, she had engaged in fighting one of the lesser stallions. It felt exhilarating, even as the two tumbled down one of the sharp ravines, and Aishe lay defenseless for days at the bottom. It wasn't until a young wastelander had found her, bleeding from cuts , covered in bruises, did the young donkey believe she had lived.

She survived that day, and continues on surviving, unbent and unbroken, restored in small significant ways.




Ref by Naki
Avi by Naki
Bust by Naki
Busty by Tesoupi
FB by Naki