[Akami-chan]

Never quote this post

What is a Kiamara?

A Kiamara is a wolf-like creature. They have long, fluffy manes on the top of their heads, running down between their shoulders. They all have spots on their bodies- a trait in which will never be bred out of their DNA. They also have feathers- every Kiamara is given feathers when they reach the age of 2 years old. Their diet consists of fruit as well as meat- they prey on similar creatures that wolves would. Kiamara can be very shy before they get to know you. Can you win a Kiamara's heart?

This kiamara contains no edits. The extra mouths and eyes are patterns on the fur and hair. This Kiamara never opens its actual mouth and therefore never speaks aloud. However, it does have coherent thought.

Be sure to include your username and the Kiamara's name somewhere in your form
Here are the essentials of what you need:

Code: Select all

Username:
Kiamara name:
Kiamara Gender:
Story behind the name:
Why does this Kiamara never open its mouth?:
One Piece of Art:


You may pretty up your form, but no extras are allowed
This includes history, personality, likes, dislikes, theme songs, poems, interviews, etc.
You are encouraged to develop 315's backstory and personality through "Story behind the name" and "Why does this Kiamara never open its mouth".

Pet peeves and things you need to make sure to do:
PROOFREAD.
If you don't know the different between "there, their, they're" "to, two, too" "your, you're" etc. you have a low chance of winning
Make the name meaningful, sometimes I pick winners solely based on the way they support their name choice
Omit useless information- if 315 is scared of heights, you better explain why that's important
One cohesive story/explanation > a bunch of mini stories/explanation

I never judge WIP's
If your form has WIP written anywhere in it, I will most likely skip it

This will end on July 22nd
The winner will be chosen based on overall appeal
Good luck all!

Return to Kiamara main thread

[Novi]

Username: i am the broken.
Kiamara name: Zexion. If you understand my reference, I love you. <3
Kiamara Gender: Male
Story behind the name:


wip


Why does this Kiamara never open its mouth?: Zexion is a master of illusion. Simply, if he were to open his mouth, he would never be able to be seen as a master illusionist ever again, so he keeps his mouth shut and his eyes wide open. He'll commonly do this to keep the element of illusion, and confuse his opponents.
....Or so it is thought.
You see, in the story, you see that he is unable to talk. That is because when he was attacked, his mouth was sewn shut for harassing his attackers too much. It was a way to shut him up, and because of his wish for immortality and the strength to crush his enemies, he no longer needs to eat, drink, talk, or, in some cases, breathe. Really creepy if you keep thinking about it for too long.
One Piece of Art:

WIP <3

[necromxncer]

Username: Kiamara name: Kiamara Gender: Story behind the name: Why does this Kiamara never open its mouth?: One Piece of Art:

reserved with Ashtaroth - Demon, duke of hell.

[Clara Erassari]

I am cℓαяα σsωιη σsωαℓ∂, but everyone
calls me Clara~ I already have a Kia, my
little Rani, but I could not pass this
girl up. When I see her, I can see such a
story; a story of great sadness and great
pain, as well as great triumph.

Although I had originally fallen in love with
this girl's design, now I love the stories I have
in mind. I also love her because of how much
she represents the hardships I have gone
through, and I am going through right now.

The headshot above was made by myself. It's
not the best there is, but it's not the worst,
either. I had originally commissioned someone
for a piece, but it fell through; in the end, I
figured that it would be better if the art was
made by me, anyway. It shows that I care and
love this little girl, and want to watch her story
unfold. I want to develop her into something
living, even if she is just pixels on a screen.


"Belua! Impia tu!"
Monster! You are unholy!

The shouts of strangers follow me as I flee from
them; I had stolen food. I was hungry. So hungry...
They called me a monster and deemed me unholy
because of my family's poverty. We had very little,
so I often stole. I wanted to help, even though I was
so little.
I was alone in that small town, an outcast because of
how I looked. Only my parents cared about me.
My name was once Venia meaning 'grace' and
'forgiveness'. My fur was dark and my eyes were a
strange red, but that was it. That was the extent to
how I looked. Then, as I got older, some markings
started to show on my face, neck, and chest. As they
got larger, they turned out to look exactly like extra
mouths. It was about that time when more markings
started to appear, this time looking like eyes. With
skulls in the center.
Everyone began to fear me. Me, a child who couldn't
speak. I was the talk of the town. Whispers flew
around that I was 'unholy'; a beast and a monster.
My parents tried to protect me; they tried to keep
me safe. In doing so they angered everyone.
The villagers formed a mob. Of all things, it made
me think of Frankenstein. They marched to our little
home; my parents tried to protect me, but they were
beaten. Cast aside. I was dragged away, where I was
beaten, too. I remember screaming, and pain.
So much pain.
My parents never came for me. I waited for days, rain
pouring over me as I hid in a corner, broken and
bruised. I remember raising my head to the sky and
crying. Over the course of several months, I retreated
into myself and learned to move on. They would never
come for me. They would never make the the same
mistake of caring for me again.
I drifted from town to town after that, never staying
long. As I traveled, I was given the name Acedia; my
depression seemed contagious.
And so I was named after one of the Historical Deadly
Sins.

Acedia
noun \ə-ˈsē-dē-ə\
(Latin, acedia) (from Greek ακηδία)
Acedia is the neglect to take care of something you should.
It is apathetic listlessness; depression without joy. It is
like melancholy: acedia describes the behavior
while melancholy describes the emotion producing it.

Acedia has no nickname; she is and always will be Acedia.
It is the name she took when she was alone.
She has no one to make her smile, and no one to show
her hope. She lives alone, scared of others. Scared of
being shunned.
Scared of the past.


Acedia was not always silent. She used to love to sing
along to her favorite songs, and name all of the things
she loved.
She can still laugh (or giggle, really) and make some
sounds, of course, but her mouth is always closed.
Why, you ask?
Well, it started when she was really young...
She's had two sets of parents in her life. Her birth
parents, whom she now hates, and then the second
set of parents, whom she now also hates because
of them abandoning her when she was still young.
But that's not what you want to hear about; you want
to know of the first pair.
The ones who gave birth to her...

It was late at night, the rain falling as it often did in
her little town. She was home alone with her mother,
who was feeling ill. She running to fetch things for her,
just to provide some help and comfort.
That all changed suddenly and violently.
There was a loud crash as Acedia's father came charging
through the door, shouting at the top of his longs. He
smelled heavily of alcohol; he struck, hitting Acedia's
mother. Both girls screamed, one from pain and one
from fear.
There was a growl as Acedia's father advanced towards
her, anger and hatred written in his crimson eyes. He
went to strike at her, but her mother moved in the way
protectively, begging him not to hurt their daughter as
tears flowed down her face.
He struck again.
A blow to the head that proved fatal.
Acedia tried to scream, to breath, but it felt as if there
was now a giant weight sitting on her chest, crushing her.
She slowly closed her eyes, a faint whine escaping her
throat.
By this time, the father had mostly used up his anger, and
now all that remained was emptiness. He glared
disdainfully at his daughter and the unmoving form of his
mate before turning and walking out the door.
Acedia lowered her gaze to her mother, remaining silent
as she sat vigil over her. She didn't say a word, or utter
a sound, even when help arrived and asked what had
happened.
She couldn't answer. It was as if something had broken
inside of that little girl.
She hasn't opened her mouth since.

[Maddyoll]

Akami i always love all of your designs :'D

now to gather my materials (and confidence) and make a good quality form!

█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █
█ █

✦ ＵＳＥＲＮＡＭＥ:

ｔｈｅ ｎａｍｅ ｉ ｕｓｅ ｏｎ ｃｓ;

Maddyoll

✦ ＫＩＡＭＡＲＡ ＮＡＭＥ:

ｄｅａｒ， ｗｈａｔ ｉｓ ｙｏｕｒ ｎａｍｅ？

wip

✦ ＫＩＡＭＡＲＡ ＧＥＮＤＥＲ:

ｙｏｕ ａｒｅ ｂｅａｕｔｉｆｕｌｌｙ ｈａｎｄｓｏｍｅ

wip

✦ ＳＴＯＲＹ ＢＥＨＩＮＤ ＴＨＥ ＮＡＭＥ:

ｂｕｔ ｗｈｙ？

wip

✦ ＷＨＹ ＤＯＥＳ ＴＨＩＳ ＫＩＡＭＡＲＡ ＮＥＶＥＲ ＯＰＥＮ ＩＴＳ ＭＯＵＴＨ？:

ｗｈｙ， ｉｔ'ｓ ｑｕｉｔｅ ｓｉｍｐｌｙ ｓｅｗｎ ｓｈｕｔ！

wip

✦ ＯＮＥ ＰＩＥＣＥ ＯＦ ＡＲＴ:

ｔｈｅｙ ｃａｌｌ ｉｔ ｃｒｅａｔｉｖｉｔｙ

wip

[Bison]

While researching the background and meaning of names I thought might fit this Kia, I stumbled upon the name Eleanor. As soon as I read this sentence: The name Eleanor is derived from the Provençal name Ænor, which comes from the words lenire, meaning "to heal," and adoucir, "to soften". (from the Wikipedia page for Helen) I was instantly inspired.

For as long as I can remember I've loved the name Eleanor. After I first heard the Beatles song "Eleanor Rigby" I adored it even more. Over the years I've managed to build up a large group of over twenty characters all with Beatles-related named, but Eleanor has always remained untouched. I felt that its such a special name and such a meaningful song that it deserves an even more special character.

I always knew the basics of my Eleanor would be similar to the song, but she needed some life of her own too. Eleanor is easily forgotten, just like Ms. Rigby. Her lack of speech makes it very easy for her to blend into the background and just be overlooked. Even those who have met her sometimes have absolutely no memory of her. Because of this, poor Eleanor has never had many friends. After she stopped speaking her friends quickly disappeared and were never really replaced. This makes her very lonely and causes her to almost live in her dreams, just like Ms. Rigby.

The meaning behind her name comes into play later on in her life. Like everyone, Eleanor hasn't had a perfect life, and neither has a Kia she meets named Kuluri. Over time she and Luri become friends, eventually falling in love. Although she never says a word, Eleanor helps her heal from traumas and pain in her past. She helps her to be able to trust again, to soften her harsh views of the world. In return, Kuluri helps Eleanor come out of her shell a bit and slowly learn to let go and love once more.

As a child Eleanor is nicknamed Nor and Nora, since she didn't like how old and grown up her full name sounded. As she got older, she began to pick up day-of-the-week nicknames - Kia’s would call her by the day they met her on. Friday is the only such nickname that ever stuck around and its what she still prefers to go by. This is the story behind Friday, as told by Kuluri.

Something about her was just. . .magical. It was like some sort of current pushed me towards her and I had no say in the matter. When we first met I knew nothing about her, she looked a little different but everyone does. I was intrigued by her markings and couldn't help but wonder what type of Kia she was. I approached her carefully, suddenly finding myself very nervous. I said hello, how are you, I’m myself who are you. But she didn't respond. Except that she did, I just didn't see it. I was hurt that she didn't say anything and usually I would have just left. But something. . .something kept me there. I needed, for some reason, to stay with her. I had to know her even if it took me forever.

In reality it only took me a couple of weeks. I quickly began calling her Friday, as it was the day we met and I had to call her something. But I didn’t speak much, at least not for the first week or two. At first I had so much trouble trying to figure her out, I wished desperately that she’d just open up and say something. But over time I began to realize that words aren’t everything. There are a million ways to communicate without a word. And sometimes. . .sometimes it’s better that way.

Over the next few months we became extremely close. I learned what every small movement of her face and body meant, what was imbedded deep within every little blush and twitch and eyelash flutter. I was completely and totally in. . .in love with her. I loved her. I’d never heard her voice, I didn’t even know her actual name, but none of that mattered. She was Friday, the day we met, and I loved her.

I knew she loved me too, her eyes said everything in the way she looked at me, but I could tell something was bothering her. She couldn't directly say it but I knew it was her name. It obviously bugged her sometimes even though she never made a big deal about it. We went on a trip back to her hometown and immediately her name was revealed. Although so many just forgot about her due to her quietness back home, here she was greeted on the street over and over again. Not every greeting was happy or kind, but she was still being seen.

Eleanor. I loved Eleanor.

Nor was a flower child in the most literal definition: as a child she absolutely adored flowers. Each day she’d spend as much time as she possibly could in the mud and dirt with her petaled friends. No matter the weather or holiday she would always make time to see them. She laughed, spoke, and sang to her flowers. She watered them and brushed the snow off of their leaves. Her whole world revolved around them.

When she was finally old enough to start going to school, she became friends with the on-campus flowers as well. No matter where she was, nearby lived a flower who loved her. It was a comforting thought for a little girl who struggled to make friends of her own species (or any species really, except for flowers). Being young and bold, Nor did nothing to hide her immense love for the flowers. A few classmates teased her, but it was never any more than a normal child faced. Honestly the teasing didn't even bother her. Eventually, a group of Big Kid bullies learned about this strange behavior. They came up with a cruel idea, intending to make her cry (but nothing more).

One day during recess as Nor spoke gently to her flowers, telling them all about her morning, the group of Big Kids approached her. Being herself she grinned happily at them, absolutely thrilled that anyone was coming to see her. As she was beginning to say hello the biggest of them all slowly lifted a paw and smashed it down against the flowers. She made an incredibly pained sort of yelping sound, as if he’d stepped on her tail, and immediately began to sob.

Tears streamed down her face as the Big Kids walked away laughing, pleased that their plan had turned out so well. Nor felt dizzy and cold. Her friends had just been stomped to death! They would never again smile at the sun or dance in the breeze. She had to tell someone! This would never be allowed, never be okay. Never!

She told everyone who would listen. Teachers, playground aids, the principal, classmates, her parents, and even her big brother. But their responses were all the same.

"Those kids were rude, but they were only flowers."
"Who would care about such a thing?"
"Plants don’t live forever honey, don’t be upset."
"Why would you cry over this? They didn’t harm you."
"You’re making a big deal over nothing."
"They weren’t even your flowers. Get over it."
"No rules were broken. They won’t be in trouble."

Nor couldn’t believe it. Grown-Ups are supposed to protect kids, not allow flower murderers to roam free! She felt like everything she’d ever been told was a lie. She’d never before experienced being let down because of a Grown-Up like this, and like many children she was deeply affected by it. She decided then and there to never say another word for the rest of her life. She began to act out elaborate scenes for her flowers but refused any sort of communication with anyone or anything else.

Her parents worried quite a bit about her but nothing they tried got her to speak. After a few weeks she agreed to communicate by writing in one special notebook. As the years passed and she got older, she used her notebook less and less. The day she graduated was the last day she ever wrote so much as a single word.

Although she had more or less "gotten over" the Flower Incident, she’d realized that the harsh lesson she’d learned was very much a fact. From being a quiet observer for so many years, she’d also learned another harsh lesson: most Kias she met could talk for days and never truly say anything at all. Communication became a very precious thing to Eleanor, reserved only for those who took the time to truly see her.

[lawfullychaotic]

Username:

TheGAMER

Kiamara name:

Bugiardo (Liar) or Verità (Truth)

Kiamara Gender:

Female

Story behind the name:

The Kia walked on to the bustling Playground, her cloak rapped round her head and body, obscuring her markings. She walked at the edge of the others groups, not daring to go to the others. Her mouth was firmly closed, and her breath came out and in slowly. The others snickered and snarled while pulling faces at her, she did'nt react or hiss back, she just looked down at her paws and continued forward, pushing horrible thoughts and emotions to the side of her mind. Sh-Should we d-do something? Her alter-ego whispered, snorting in her mind. I am all too aware of them, verità, She replied And I don't want to hurt anyone. Verità didn't back down, not this time. So! Th-they are p-playing you, like an untuned V-violin, my dear! Let me h-help you... She said pushing her back into the corners of her mind. Please no! Don't do this! She screamed at Verità, her mind twisting in agony as she was forced into the small space where most of their time was spent talking. Verità walked over to the group of Kia's and snarled. She looked at the smug Kias, "We find it very Idiotic to be wearing a cloak in this weather," The blue kia said mockingly, not noticing her walking up to them. She gritted her teeth, and growled,pushing against The kiamara's mind, Well you blue hair looks absolutely Horrible today! She screamed in his mind, watching in pleasure as he recoiled. He snarled and, without warning, launched forward and ripped her cloak.
All the boys gasped, staring at her strange markings.
She stammered in their minds Th-their just Markings!. They all sneered and began to sing "Liar, Liar pants on Fire!." No! I'm the truth-teller! She hissed, tears welling up as Bugiardo took control, I'm sorry, sister... lets go home. She walked them to the bus as the boys chanted in french "Bugiardo, Bugiardo pantaloni in fiamme!"

Why does this Kiamara never open its mouth?:

As she is Bi-polar, her alter-ego has a personality of it's own and when they try to speak, they can't distinguish each other's words, so they jumble and their thoughts mix and create a 'Fake' Personality, and neither of them want to deal with that.

One Piece of Art:

Wip

[TabbiKat]

Username:Tabbikat
Kiamara name:OcchieDellaBocca(O.C.B for short)
Kiamara Gender: female
Story behind the name: her name, i f you put spaces in places, means eyes of the mouth. it's because, when she wants to, she can maniputlate her eye nmarkings so their expression tellls you what she is thinking. (for example, when she is angey you are going to have a lot of eyes like this o\/o
Why does this Kiamara never open its mouth?:
again, she can manipulate her fur so she doesn't need to, but that is not the reason. long long ago she was cursed....
A young kia, brownish-red with black markings and markings looking like mouths and eyes, looking near halfstarved strolled into the forest. now, as we all know, cats may communicate telepathically, and it just so happened she bump into one. it asked her why she looked so strange... this is the story she told it.
One day, when i was a young kia, i was extremley cheeky toward everyone, and everyone got sick of it. they said, we are sending you to your grandkia who lives in the forest. So i left home excited to visit my grandkia, who, though i didn't know it, was a witch.
i used to sing as i did my chores, but oneday, i cheeked the witch, and she took my voice and closed my mouth so now i may speak only like this, or with my markings and eyes.
One Piece of Art:
viewtopic.php?f=30&t=1882536#p58418069

(omg, i love this kia because it scaresme! )

[UzmaShroom]

Oh my gosh, I have a dream Kia..... Oh my gosh..... I really want this Kia.... I would be so proud if this were my first Kia.......... Oh my gosh....

Dirk Strider


Lord Spinneret


Male


I was born unto the spiders. They are my children. They are my parents. They are my family. I have been raised by them, and now I rule them. They are my subjects, and they are my guardians.

Spinneret’s family came from a long line of solitary Kiamaras. They spent their lives alone in the forest, accompanied by no one but their mates. Spinneret was no different. With no one but his mother and father as company, Spinneret began searching for new playmates at a very young age, wandering out into the forest alone.

During his adventures to find friends, Spinneret once stumbled into a social spider colony. Where one might be traumatized by the experience of falling into a gigantic web covered in spiders, Spinneret was enchanted.

After his first meeting with the colony, Spinneret returned again and again. He began to learn the language of the spiders, how they seemed to speak not with words or actions, but with their web. Soon, Spinneret began to communicate with the spiders, finding a way to speak a version of their language by using his tail and claws.

It quickly became more than just the spider colony. Solitary spiders began to accept Spinneret as one of their own. Spinneret would easily offer the spiders food, and in return, the spiders accepted his presence. Mutual friendship slowly turned into master and vassals. In his new status as a sort of Spider King, Spinneret had his spiders build him a castle of webs in the forest.

Others heard of the ‘Spider King’ and started to seek him out, intent on finding out who this Kia really was. Spinneret used his spiders to drive off the probing outsiders and closed his web castle off from the world.

Soon, Spinneret became known as Lord Spinneret, the King of the Spiders. Sometimes, armies of spiders can be seen entering the forest, looking to swear their allegiance to their new King.


Spinneret smirked to himself as he watched his beloved orb-web spiders weave their glorious web, his eyes wide and intent on following their every movement. Each leg carefully moving and properly placing, it was driving Spinneret into ecstasy just to watch. Without thinking, he began to mumble eagerly under his breath, whispering each action as he watched his beloved spiders move.

The web-spiders froze in their movements and watched Spinneret. The Kia growled at himself for his own slip up. His beloved spiders always stopped when they heard his voice. It was an unforgivable interruption, really. One of his beautiful orb-web spiders was about to finish the last bit of silk on his glorious web. Spinneret pursed his lips, contemplating how, exactly, he could mute himself from any further interruptions. He did not wish his spiders to stop constantly every time he did something as mundane and Kia-like as talking. No. It was entirely inexcusable. He would not speak again. Spinneret snapped his fingers and glared at a pair of his lovely tarantulas, his intentions clear in their heads.

Moving with the same grace as the orb-webs, the tarantulas crawled along Spinneret’s mouth, carefully weaving a web around it. A temporary cure, really. It would not do in the long run. For the moment, however, it served its purposes. His cold, maroon eyes riveted back to the orb-web spiders and he nodded slowly. The graceful, beloved creatures returned to their tireless work, weaving the perfect web for Spinneret to sleep in, to join his brothers, sisters, and subjects up in the webs. Spinneret smiled behind his newfound muzzle and nodded his approval. Never again would he interrupt the work of his beloved spiders.

One Piece of Art: My friend made this for me. This is supposed to be for Kia 315. Please forgive the lack of color

[Darastrrix]

Username:
Dragons wisper

Kiamara name:
Skull

Kiamara Gender:
Female

Story behind the name:
W.I.P.

Why does this Kiamara never open its mouth?:
W.I.P.

One Piece of Art:
W.i.P.