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Post by GREYtheFLAILER on Mar 8, 2013 18:01:42 GMT -8
» THE ALPHAS ( step into the spotlight ) Seeing as alphas are a major role in every canine site, we really need to begin auditions in order to build a steady base for the lives of those on If All Else Fails. If you are interested, do not hesitate to fill in an application! Please abide by all rules below. » The alphas should be male, Rhazorn aisde. Keep in mind, however, that he/she must embody the very attitude of the pack. » He/she must be no younger then five years. That way, they have an ounce of worldly knowledge, and are therefore far more experienced then any two year old would be. Keep in mind that you may go older, but no older then thirteen. » Uniqueness will sway me. If I get four auditions, three of which are stereotypical and bland while the other is shorter but unique, I will be far more likely to choose the unique application, as long as it is still fitting. » Activity plays a major role. Each alpha must be very active, and therefore I will be more likely to pick a very active member. » You can audition non-accepted characters. Even if you haven't started the application, you're allowed to do so here. » You can audition up to three characters. I will regard each application as a separate audition, regardless of who plays them. Please use the biography form. |
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Post by nihilarian on Mar 10, 2013 19:43:33 GMT -8
» MENELAOS "NELL" seven. male. shephard mix. heterosexual. cesavias. » general appearance. one would never guess at the mind beneath so typical a plain dog. admittedly, he is quite large - 65 centimeters from the ground and 38 kilograms of police dog muscle - but not the largest possible for his breed. combine these with his stark white coat and there exists a solid recipe for keeping most dogs at bay. something about the way he holds himself, often gazing into the distance with that blank golden stare - glare, perhaps? - just makes him something eerie. he snaps out of it soon enough though, eyes suddenly wide, ears suddenly alert. even more strange, perhaps. up close, one can more fully appreciate the double coat of thick white fur, never really thinning out at any point on the dog's body. if anything, the pelt seems to thicken around his chest, hindquarters, and, of course, tail, providing him with even more an imposing silhouette. in contrast, his legs are long and thin, ending in paws that seem perhaps too small to support so large a dog. still, he pulls off surprising grace in motion, preferring to keep his mouth closed, ears down, tail straight out; at his fastest, with his fur flying straight back from his body, he almost appears to be no more than a white streak in one's vision. a rather large white streak that glares with brilliant yellow eyes; eyes that never seem to blink - or perhaps blink in perfect unison with the observer. » personality. raised alongside a policeman for six of his seven years, there is embedded in him a deep sense of right and wrong. morals run alongside the very blood in his veins, fueling his every movement. those in danger will receive his help, and those abusing will see his wrath. having witnessed the many oddities of criminals, menelaos considers himself perfectly open-minded, understanding that sometimes we do ridiculous things induced by stress. that said, there should come a point when we calm down - and quickly. that is when justice makes its irreversible decision. an eye for an eye, menelaos once heard his partner say, though he couldn't quite understand why there was sadness behind the man's words. it was perfectly sound logic, fair to the dog's way of thinking. if anyone ever hurt his human, he would want that human hurt too. they asked for it when they went breaking the law. and yet, always the man would shout the heel command before he could do any real damage. for better or for worse, that man was now gone. the training, however, was not. someone has to be there to prevent the world descending into chaos, into anarchy. evil never changes. it has to be eradicated. who better for so dirty a job than a police dog? no one likes the police dog, though. fortunately, this one understands that. as a front to this righteous decision, menelaos has mastered the art of friendly faces, so he believes. while he doesn't pant - that's unsightly - and doesn't wag his tail - that's for puppies - he's quite certain that his wide-eyed attentiveness to those around him is perfectly innocent and kind. he maintains a polite, lengthy pause after others speak to prove that he thinks about his answers before presenting them. and always those answers will be given with a smile and dip of the head. he will never actually voice his true purpose or his wisdom to anyone; that would only chase them all away. instead, he will act as the kindly king, accepting all into his fold to keep them safe. because the king knows best. one more thing: the king's name is not menelaos, 'withstanding the people.' the king's name is simply nell - a commoner, just like them. » likes. combat. laughter. water. rodents. birds. sunlight. open spaces. manual labor. honor. chivalry. » dislikes. wrong-doers. liars. cheaters. cats. wolves. night-time. clouds. tight spaces. fire. wind. loudness. quiet speakers. shyness. argument. cowardice. » strengths. combat. hunting. patience. memory. pain tolerance. problem-solving. » weaknesses. self-absorbed. one-track mind. deceitful. judgmental. workaholic. kryptonite. » family. silas. father. swiss shephard. deceased. celia. mother. german shephard. deceased. eumelia. sister. shephard mix. living - unknown. timaeus. brother. shephard mix. living - unknown. » history. sit. lay down. speak. attack. heel. fetch. fly. fix. these were the first eight words of his vocabulary and, for a long time, the most frequent words he heard. bred specifically for police work, he and two other appropriate littermates were chosen to actually enter the force. once they were weaned, these command words - sit, lay down, speak, attack, heel, fetch, fly, fix - were drilled into their brains along with their corresponding actions. the first few were obvious enough. 'fly' was how he was taught to leap on someone to pull them down - different from the simple immobilization of 'attack' - and 'fix' was the signal for intimidation tactics. fix them with your most dangerous glare and growl as though in your heart you want to tear them shreds. sometimes, in his heart, menelaos did want just that. the police force wasn't incompetent. they noticed the dog's overly aggressive attitude soon after practical training - the part where they actually bring in a heavily padded human target for the dog to practice on. for a while, he was considered off-duty, kept as a pet at his would-be partner's home. there, he was disciplined as a normal dog. he learned how to treat people nicely, how to stick out his tongue and wag his tail, how to bark at cats when they sauntered by the house. he seemed cured. they took him back to training and, sure enough, he displayed none of the wild behaviors of before. there was no way for them to tell that it was all still there, hiding beneath two thick coats of shining white fur. in any case, he was trained almost to perfection; he took down criminals as well as any other dog, perhaps better considering his large size. and his aggression. two years old and he saw the last of his family. his brother and sister were assigned to police at different stations. it didn't mean much to menelaos; his family hadn't really concerned him anyway. the training took up all of his time and all of his effort. and he liked it that way. immediately after the separation, he started going out on real jobs. well, real as in real criminals, but nothing particularly dangerous. drug sniffing and search and rescue mostly. that only lasted a few months though; very quickly did he prove himself, and very quickly did they begin sending him out on truly dangerous police work. crime had been on the steady incline for a few years now, and shortly after being put on the job, it seemed to skyrocket altogether. it seemed every day he was out of the station, chasing down drug addicts, letting fly at would-be murderers, fixing robbers to the spot with his slavering maw that just begged for them to make the wrong move. and yet, even when they did, he could never deny that final command. heel. he hated that command. these people would never heel. many of them had been told to heel before, numerous times, and still they wound at the wrong end of menelaos' jaws. humans were foolish. these people would never, ever change, and yet all they did was give them chance after chance. and for what? to steal more property? to do more drugs? to kill more people? humans weren't just foolish. they were downright stupid. and yet, he would never deny that command. he could hear it before it even reached his ears, heel, stop, that's enough. and while he wouldn't chase anymore, wouldn't growl anymore, wouldn't even stare anymore, they couldn't stop him from hating. these people were wrong, were doing wrong, and when confronted with right? right would back off. every time. every goddamn time. he expected that one day he would grow out of it. sitting in the car with his human partner, watching the scenery fly by the window, he could feel a little faith in the universe come to him. there were good people out there. in fact, most people were good. and yet, after five years, he always came to the same conclusion: everyone could be good if we would just eliminate the evil. five years old, five years straight of bringing the baddies in for justice, and finally he got to see his first execution. it wasn't anyone he had brought in - no, the humans spent more than his expected lifetime just deciding this stuff - but the overwhelming sense of satisfaction at seeing the man through the glass slowly fade from life was undeniable. he only wished the man had hadn't died to some human concoction delivered painlessly through the arm, but in menelaos' own jaws. he scoffed at the notion. as if humans would ever let something as inhumane as that happen. six years old and his human partner was retiring. menelaos couldn't believe it. crime was its all-time peak and - wouldn't you believe it - his human was giving up. there never was and had yet to be a time when he felt the rage so strongly. he attacked his human when he found out - the ultimate mistake. there was no blood drawn, but the act itself was enough to have him sent to the pound. "overly aggressive," they marked on his door. "cannot be rehabilitated." why wasn't that ever in consideration for the criminals? why is it a dog could be executed in three days, but humans' could wait more than three decades? fortunately - or perhaps unfortunately - they never got around to it. world war three hit and dogs were the last things on the humans' minds. in his cell he sat stewing, pondering the deeper motives to human behavior. in the end, he could come to only one conclusion: they hadn't the heart for it. so when the bombs fell and the people stopped showing up and his door and every door in the complex found itself unhinged, he was the first one out. it had been over a year since he'd seen the world outside. he came out and found it worse than when he'd left. probably a by-product of his departure. now? wrong-doers had best be prepared. justice has returned with a vengeance. » roleplay post. The place was hideous. Everywhere he looked were abandoned vehicles, buildings, streets, and all of it covered with a varying layer of debris. There seemed to be a perpetual cloud over his immediate area, though he could see the sun almost directly above him through the darkness. A low growl rolled up his chest, but he stopped it before it became vocal. This was disgusting. Any other time he would have asked how on earth the humans could let things get to this level, but then he remembered: they were all gone. The last few of them had gone around making sure all the animal enclosures were left open.
While there was no conclusive evidence, Menelaos felt quite certain that those few didn't exist anymore.
Again he felt the urge to growl, and again he stopped it short. Turning slowly, he made sure to examine everything he could see for signs of danger - or any sign of life for that matter. One complete circuit, then two, and still nothing had called out to him. Ducking his head and tail low to minimize the distance from which he himself could be seen, he started to gingerly pad his way downhill to the outskirts of the city. Perhaps there he could at least find some shelter.
His thoughts strayed, as they often did, back to his human partner. There had never been any stronger connection there than own and obey as far as Menelaos knew, never any deep respect for the man, and yet he had been the dog's closest bond. In a way, he was the only living thing the dog had really known.
And in the end, he'd bitten the man.
Was he sorry?
His paw slipped on some loose rocks then as he chuckled to himself. No, not really. If the man had done things Menelaos' way, the world wouldn't be in the state it was now. Or at least, not quite so bad a state. But for now he shook those thoughts off; the last thing he needed was a spill into some sharper, possibly metal debris on his first day out. He chuckled to himself again; all that time in the pound had him a little loopy, losing his concentration like this.
At the bottom of the hill, he picked up his pace. It didn't take long for him to realize that there was nothing this far at the edge of the city, so within minutes he was in a full sprint, a white streak down the street, a solitary figure, the faint clack-clack of his nails on the pavement an eerie sound in the stillness. Eventually, he came to place where the buildings weren't quite as destroyed as the rest. Eventually - and oh how sweet - he came to a place he might call home.
A dilapidated old warehouse, obviously damaged and obviously abandoned, but nonetheless inhabitable, sat before him. His tail wagged once, briefly, as he padded around the perimeter. More than inhabitable, this place could prove an excellent sanctuary for him.
And..
.. for him and..
He pushed in one of the doors as the idea began forming. Indeed, the place was quite spacious inside with lots of torn up old furniture laying around. The concrete floor was freezing, but decently insulated by the amount of stuffing lying about. For several long minutes, he paced about the area, sniffing and listening, being absolutely certain that it was empty.
There were only two doors. Easily defensible. And all of the windows were far too high from the ground for any risk of infiltration that way. Apart from it being rundown, it was perfect.
And yet, being rundown, wrong-doers may in fact feel like inclined to hide their true natures from him.
With a strange toothy grin, he padded back out the front door, giving the building the go-around one more time. Satisfied, he seated himself in the street before it, felt the growl rolling deep from his chest, and loosed with a mighty howl into the dark sky above him.
This would be the Cesavias base of operations; the pack wherein evil would be meted out by a prevailing justice, wherein the good would find themselves properly protected..
.. wherein Menelaos was king. » alias. nihilarian. nilla works too. » experience. five years, off and on. » how you found us. Intolerance ad. » set. .:click here:. » permission. i believe shutterstock is open to all. hopefully i'm not terribly mistaken. .-. |
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f i z z
Head-Moderator
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Post by f i z z on Mar 11, 2013 0:12:52 GMT -8
» Illarion six. female. shiloh shepherd. straight. rhazorn. » general appearance. Illarion is very beautiful, in her own opinion; she is a deep golden auburn that shines when in the sun. This color covers her entire body, except the black that wraps around her muzzle. She is heavy in appearance, similar to that of a longhaired Shiloh shepherd, aside from her coloring. She stands a balanced 30 inches tall, taking after the dominating Shiloh shepherd in her blood; her body structure has a characteristic slope to it, weight wise, Illarion is about 100 pounds, fluctuating depending on how well she eats. Muscle wise, she is stout, but not nearly as bulky as a male, but her long coat tends to hide just how strong she is. Continuing with the Shiloh breed, her coat is thicker around the neck, much like a lions mane, but it remains that strong attractive golden color. Her eyes, equally attractive and mysterious are a bright greenish yellow (if allowed) giving her a rather eerie stare. Illarion prides herself on her regal posture, her head is always held high with a rather relaxed posture and of course, her coat is kept well groomed and free of knots and unwanted particles. This does not mean, that she is afraid to get down and dirty, she has no problem with it, but she tends to clean herself up afterwards. » personality. Illarion is repulsed by males that think females are weak and incapable as leaders or warriors and is often driven to prove them wrong in every way. With every fiber of her being she is driven to be better than any male and will gladly prove it in a battle of strength or mind. She is both physically capable as well as vastly intelligent and cunning; she has a sharp eye for detail and listens and watches closely for faults many do not notice they give away. Illarion can be described as a bit obsessive, while things do not have to be in a certain place, it bothers her when things are moved without her say so and often times she is compelled to move it back. She is a loyal dog, capable of love and trust but never to a male, only to a fellow female that strikes her fancy. Similar to a leopard, her only real interest in males is during mating season when she becomes increasingly more tolerant of their presence and even becomes openly flirtatious. When it is not mating season she is much harsher and aggressive, although she does try to put on a calm façade to get through the encounter. It wears on her patience to deal with males and it is only the modern animals that can truly remain in her presence without her becoming outright hostile towards them. Illarion can be rather…arrogant when it comes to her abilities and her knowledge. While she would in no way underestimate another, she can at times be seen as a bigheaded dog with an even larger ego. Pride and honor means a lot to her and for that reason, it is unlikely that she would outright lie to someone, no matter how hard or painful. The only exception is to a child and even then it is often weighed and depending on the pros and cons, she may or may not tell the truth. When it comes to children she has a weak point, anything under a year old would be welcomed in her home, however, males would be strictly educated in the art of battle, and the knowledge of female power. Despite her rather aggressive nature, she is generally calm and soft when it comes to those she welcomes as her family. However, once betrayed there is no returning, male or female you can expect a bounty on your head and she will not stop until she has her justice. Her patience is startling, even with her aggressive nature; she has the patience to wait for opportune moments and often prefers not to be caught in the heat of the moment. Strategic and logical retaliations are what she is good at and enjoys. Despite her repulsion for males, she has no problem using them for anything she needs and then letting them slip from her life. If flirting and playing nice gets her something important, she will happily do so. » likes. being better than males, mind games, storms, sunlight, training, competition, honesty, regality, submission (from others). » dislikes. Being opposed. Sexist males, losing, night, liars, disprespect, and summer. » strengths. intelligent, cunning, manipulative, confident, beauty, observant, patient, fierce, and loyal. » weaknesses. Arrogant, succumbs to her anger, judgmental of males, puppies, hot weather. » family. Sham-mother-n/a Falcor-father-deceased. Rhy- sister-deceased. Cassian- brother-n/a. » history. Illarion grew up with a gentle mother, a violent and abusive father, a brother that followed in those footsteps and a weak and frightened sister. The sole reason that she is despises males is because of her brother and her father and for good reason. Growing up her father at first ignored her and her sister and paid attention only to Cassian, and while this deflated Rhy’s self esteem and motivation it only inflated Illarion’s. Off on her own she would run and train with either herself, her sister (who protested every minute of it) or she taunted her brother into striking at her so she could practice fighting- an art that her mother frowned upon greatly. As she grew, her fathers ignoring behavior turned aggressive once he figured out that she was baiting her brother through his temper. Often times he would challenge her fiery temper and her unbreakable will and once exhausted he would send her brother in to get pay back for the times that held the upper hand in a match. Her mother, a weak and submissive Shiloh shepherd, did nothing physical to prevent this although she did teach Illarion to manipulate and use her feminine nature to her advantage- although it did not work on family unfortunately. Illarion dealt with the punishment, it only fueled her rage and her determination to prove them wrong- she was not beneath them and she certainly wasn’t a nobody. It was when they started in on Rhy that Illarion finally could take no more, it took little time to gather a pair of strong females to come to her aide, convincing them with a smooth tongue and a harsh reality. In the middle of Rhy’s beating, Illarion and her band of two were upon the males, Cassian had little choice but to fight, but it was Falcor that Illarion was after, not her brother. The two squared off as they had multiple times, but this time, Illarion was ready and prepared to be exhausted before it was over. The fight was a lasting one and under her orders, the two that took care of her brother did not lift a paw to help her beat her father. Determination wore thin and the battle dragged on, bother were tired, but Illarion, the younger and livelier one was not trembling so bad and was able to move a bit faster than her older and weakening father. Saliva and blood coated portions of her body, including her neck and face. Her father had received many a wound from her teeth and claws, but she held the same amount of wounds. Using the last of her reserves, Illarion feigned a frontal charge before rolling her shoulder so that she was shoulder first into his chest, throwing him back by sheer force and momentum. Falling to the ground herself, she was momentarily stunned, the wind knocked out of her and her vision flickering. She could hear the sputtering cough of her father trying to catch the breath he had lost in the impact. Groaning and forcing herself to breathe, she rose to her paws, favoring the side she had hit him with, but she limped forward, lips curled back as she placed her weigh on his shoulder, holding him in place. For a long moment she just stared, unsure of what to do for a moment although all she had wanted for a long time was to kill him, but the moment was there and she simply stared. Falcor growled at her and sputterd his insults that rekindled the rage that she had felt for a long two and a half years, but it was not his insults that had finally made her end it. It was the weak whimper of her sister, who fleetingly stole her attention, pain and loss replaced the rage and her jaws descended, closing upon his windpipe tightly before she shook her head vigorously back and forth until the gurgling could be heard. She released him and went to his sister, who lay on the ground, bloodied and weak. There was no saving her, but Illarion remained until she passed, comforting her sister through the pain. Her loyal soldiers remained at a distance, ignoring the fact that Cassian had escaped. Afterwards, Illarion left, she never said good-bye to her mother, she simply vanished. Her soldiers abandoned were thanked and there was much sorrow in leaving them behind, but the vengeful Shiloh shepherd had to find her brother and finish what she started, with only him left, she could easily take care of him and neither of her soldiers wanted to leave that region anyway. Parting with gentle goodbyes Illarion became a nomad, following her brothers destructive path until coming upon a strange town, with strange laws and even more curious- the presence of wolves within the city. » roleplay post.
Claws clicked on the floor, a dusted and worn linoleum that made up the ground of many buildings in most cities, despite the wear and misuse, it was hardly cracked and only in places where the ceiling had finally given in and fallen was the slick surface given a good amount of grip and tread. Still, the shepherd that wandered forward paid no mind, stepping as lightly as one could with such large paws as she wandered through the building. To the canine it was just another building, the label hospital was not initially attached to it, nor was she inclined to give it any sort of attaching name at that point. It was a building that could give her necessary shelter and, if she were lucky, food and a bit of water.
Even from the outside the place looked to be in disarray, but from within one could truly understand the chaos that had to have ensued before the humans left. There were odd barren stretchers- the cushions long since removed- strung about; some toppled over while some remained upright. Chairs were broken, missing or held a musty odor to them that reminded the shepherd that other canine and feline had been to the place before her. It was useless to hope for food, if there had been any it had gone to waste, been eaten or taken by another creature. Still, she wandered, passing the large filth covered windows that once allowed clear, bright sunlight through to heat up the floor.
For the Shiloh shepherd, it was not simply the thought of shelter, food and water that coaxed her into the building; it was the intriguing smell of death. A scent she had become familiar with since her fathers demise and her brothers escape. The thought of him had her fur bristling and her relaxed posture stiffening as she walked. The clicking of her claws on the linoleum floor changed in beat, becoming more halting and sharp as her paws hit the floor harder. The thought of her abusive brother was enough to boil her blood and send her into a mindset of rage and a need for vengeance. Instinctively, her head lowered to shoulder height as her elegant walk turned into a predatory stalk down the hallway.
Illarion was on a hunt, it was why her body remained in ready condition, never turning lazy, never settling into a home. She followed his trail, but she never seemed to be able to move ahead and cut him off to end her journey, something she wanted more than anything. His fate was one of pain and torture and a slow death for the things he had done to her and their sister. Cassian will pay for his crimes. Her thoughts hissed at her in an angry way. A low, growl rumbled like thunder in her chest in agreement, blood no longer bonded the siblings, only her need for his death did.
Turning sharply to remove herself from a constantly straight path, she entered a shorter hallway, with doors on each side. Slowly she made her way down, prowling into the first room, reptilian eyes flickering over the mattress-less bed and the cushioned seat next to it. A pole with yellowed bags hung there, cords dangling on the floor, cut off with no exit point. The fluid inside remained undisturbed by the dust the bag collected, but it was far from useable. With a soft snort, the shepherd moved around the skeleton bed and to the window, a cushion made into the little nook made her seating comfortable as she made the rather effortless jump to look out the window from a different perspective. It was dusty, giving her a distorted view, but it was one she took with gratitude, her dangling tail twitching from side to side ever so gently.
The movement on the street caught her attention and her sharp gaze narrowed, turning her head so that her cheek rubbed the glass, hoping to clean it- even if just a little. Returning her gaze to the slightly better hole she had created, she stared. The canine was staring back, no doubt alerted by her movements, stupid. she thought, as it took a moment to fully take in the canine. For a moment, they were frozen in time, her unable to get a good look at the creature, and it could no doubt get a good look at her. Motionless, Illarion waited for it to move and when it finally did her eyes widened. Another low growl rolling through her as the stride became familiar to her, it was arrogant and smooth- much like her own, the creature’s fur was long and held the structure similar to her own.
Cassian! The thought exploded with a snarl in her mind as her front paws pushed her back, body twisting as she fell towards the ground. The Shiloh shepherd landed sloppily on her feet, claws clacking hastily on the floor as she propelled herself forward, moving around the bed and back down the hallway. It was only when she reached the long hallway did she slide to a stop. Patience. Her mind hissed, calming her with soothing images of her brother getting what he deserved, but telling her now was not the opportune moment. Ears fell back in irritation as she stood there, sides barely moving as she took slow shallow breaths to calm her temper. Her body trembled with the effort, but as minutes ticked by and her brother no doubt moved further into the city, she calmed down.
Immediately, Illarion moved forward, her former prowling and wandering strides were replaced with one of importance and purpose. She had found her brother and now, she wanted an army to take him down, but in that moment of calming herself, she realized it was not just her brother she wanted to destroy, it was every male like him. Exiting the building with no more than a flick of her ears to acknowledge the dimming sunlight, she strode off to the street and began to mark her new territory. There was no howl, no bark or shout; she did not want to alert him to her presence just yet. Instead, she silently claimed her territory and then went back to the building to sit on its steps. Waiting. Thinking. Planning.
» alias. Tuck/Tucker » experience. 9+ years » how you found us. Genetic Perfection (andie's advertisement) » set. .: note: all photos would need to be altered color wise to get her color - I dont have the time right now to manip several sets for an accurate view.one:. .: two:. .: three:. » permission. Its under CC agreement. .-. |
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Post by indy on Mar 12, 2013 15:07:42 GMT -8
AUREOLE WAS HERE
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Post by befera on Mar 14, 2013 10:37:06 GMT -8
» MALLEUS seven. male. grey wolf. straight. xarthen. » general appearance. Malleus is a fairly tall brute, standing at 32 inches high at the shoulder. He isn't overly-heavy for his species and gender, though, as his weight tends to stick at 93lbs. His appearance is intimidating to smaller canines, but compared to some others who are even larger than he, he isn't exactly the most menacing-looking beast around. The wolf's pelt is dyed a dark, dark grey shade, with lighter portions on his underbelly and inner areas of his legs. Malleus is lean but strong, and throughout his life he has been known for his agility and quickness in hunts and in battles. The dark brute isn't as muscular or "buff" as some might expect a creature of his size, but the beast makes up for his lack of bulk in swiftness. Malleus is by no means a lanky creature, either, as his musculature is toned and tough. The ashen brute's occulars are a brilliant gold in hue, teeming with insurmountable intelligence and wit. Old battle scars adorn his frame, primarily the front half of his body, and on his face. Patches of fur are absent on the brute's chest and forelegs where scar tissue reigns supreme, but the rest of his bodice is bathed in the deep cloudiness of his dark pelt. Malleus's left ear is chipped, as well, near the tip. » personality. Malleus is a notorious elitist, believing that wolves are the superior faction and that dogs are worthless scum that don't deserve a chance at even standing toe-to-toe with a wolf. He is exceedingly intolerant of dogs and even dog half-breeds, almost to the point of disgust. He believes that even dog half-breeds are no better than their full-blooded counterparts, and to this day he has never met a dog or dog hybrid that he has trusted or even thought for one second to welcome into his life as an ally. In short, he absolutely detests them. Though Malleus is an elitist, he isn't narcissistic or vain. He just believes that wolves are rightly the Kings of Canines, and that lowly dogs should know their place. Mal is humorous from time to time, but he has a mordant, caustic, sometimes hurtful sense of humor, even to his own kind. Sometimes he can't help himself but be a little mean, though he normally tries to shake the hurtful parts of whatever he said off as simple, harmless jokes that everyone else has to suck it up and deal with. This is one of his only social flaws, but Malleus is convinced that it isn't a big deal if he purposefully tries to push the buttons of those around him from time to time. It's a way for him to loosen up around those he trusts, and those who are closest to him have accepted that he'll try to mess with them every once in a while. A mysterious creature, Mal rarely ever reveals much about himself to anyone, withholding as much information as he can until he knows that whoever he's speaking with can be trusted. If Malleus doesn't find you trustworthy, you'll know it. He tends to look upon those he isn't quite sure about with a generous amount of suspicion, knowing that anyone he doesn't check out completely could be a danger to him and to those close to him. This is the only part of Malleus's psyche that seems a bit overly-paranoid. He sees it as "better safe than sorry," though. Malleus is a cunning brute, as well, and is able to deceive others and even manipulate them if the conditions are right. Though Mal has problems trusting others, he can be very outgoing as long as he doesn't have to open up with any personal or confidential information. He can be a brillant actor if he tries, and from his experience, he's been able to get the victims of his manipulation to believe whatever he wants them to believe. This is a combination of his strategic withholding of information plus his deceptive ways. He tends only to be manipulative when it's beneficial to more than just himself, as he does truly care a lot for others (other wolves, that is). Being the highly intelligent being he is, Malleus is a brilliant strategist, especially when it comes to the art of war. His past taught him how to lead and how to be victorious without having to rely on brute strength, and this is a quality he values very highly in himself and in others. He knows the ins and outs of battle, and he's not afraid to command or lay lives on the line for justice or for the good of everyone. Malleus believes in strict authority, seeing stable ranks and a bit of tough love as the only way to keep a group strong and balanced while avoiding internal chaos. Mal is a confident being, as well, but not overly-confident or arrogant. He wants to be respected and admired, but he has no interest in being anyone's object of fear or negative envy. He trusts his mind over anyone else's, and trusts his knowledge first and foremost in any decision he makes. This doesn't mean that he jumps into things after one thought, though, as he is very cautious most of the time, unless he is pressed to a deadline. Sometimes it's hard for Mal to take the ideas of others into consideration, especially if he hasn't seen them as completely trustworthy. Malleus can sometimes get stuck in his own shell that way, a shell that he tends to keep thick and almost impenetrable. Deep down, Mal is a very compassionate and loving creature, especially when it comes to those close to him and to his blood-kin. He rarely shows this compassion outwardly, and this "true nature" of his is only ever seen by those he trusts above all others. » likes. tight-knit groups of friends/family, being able to open up to those he trusts, feeling respected by others, orderly society. » dislikes. dogs and dog hybrids, unexpected visitors/trespassers, others with ulterior motives, those who pry for information that's none of their business. » strengths. brilliant strategist, witty/cunning, confident without being arrogant. » weaknesses. not as physically strong as others, verbally hurtful, overly-paranoid (trust issues). » family. Grimmor - twin brother (deceased) Moraiis - younger brother (deceased) Koryana - mother (deceased) Virten - father (deceased) » history. Malleus was born into a time where his birth pack and the neighboring one were on the verge of war. He and his twin brother, Grimmor, were raised to learn how to fight and strategize in order to survive the war that everyone knew was coming. Being so young, it took Malleus quite some time to figure out exactly why the two packs were fighting, but when he did find out, it made him all-the-more ready to stand beside his brethren to defend their home. The neighboring pack was growing in size, rapidly, and they were running out of places to hunt and den. Thus, they turned to Malleus's birth pack's lands, seeking to take the territory from them in order to make more space. Mal's pack wasn't going to stand for this, as their packland had been inhabited by them alone for generations upon generations. There was a nostalgia about the place that they refused to give up, and there also wasn't really anywhere else they could go. The human war seemed to be raging just beyond their borders, and many wolves were afraid of the abyss of the unknown that they could be forced into. Malleus's parents were the alphas of the pack, making he and Grimmor next in line for the throne. Mal and Grim's relationship from puphood to adulthood was all about who was stronger, tougher, smarter, better: who was truly fit to rule. The twins were nearly identical in almost every aspect of their physical and psychological make-up, but Grimmor was ore focused on the glory of being alpha rather than the responsibility that came with it. Two years after the twins were born, and right in the midst of the pack vs. pack war, Malleus's younger brother Moraiis was born. He was timid, quiet, and afraid of the world as soon as he entered it, and Malleus took it upon himself to ensure that his younger sibling would be just as good a warrior as his older brothers. Over the next year or so, the war still raging, Malleus taught him everything he knew, and just hoped that the little one wouldn't get himself killed. Then the three siblings were hit with the death of both of their parents in battle. Malleus and Grimmor were devastated, but at the same time, they knew it was time to rise up and lead the pack to victory. Grimmor wanted so badly to be alpha, but after a long argument the two had shortly after finding out their parents were slain, Grim decided that it would be okay for the twins to rule as one until the war was over. Malleus, pleased that his more agressive brother had chosen wisely, began to think of another way to end this damned war once and for all rather than beating the much larger pack into submission, something that seemed almost hopeless. What Malleus and Grimmor ended up doing was staging a surrender, or a supposed one. The wolves hid within the nooks and crannies of their territory and waited for the rivaling pack's highest officers and most powerful warriors to stroll in, thinking everything was fine. It worked extraordinarily well, and will full force, Malleus's pack ambushed, attacked, and defeated the most powerful wolves the neighboring pack had. Then they made the remaining forces an offer. Malleus and Grimmor told them that they were welcome to become part of their pack as long as these quarrels would stop for good. It would solve the problem of them needing more space, and it would make peace among everyone. After deliberation from the new high officers of the neighboring pack, they agreed, and peace reigned for a time. Grimmor immediately wanted to knock his brother from the throne, having kept their deal in his mind for a long time. Malleus tried to talk his brother out of it, insisting that the two were much stronger together than apart, and Grimmor got physical with him. The two broke out into a fight, and though Malleus didn't want to hurt his brother, knocked him to the ground over and over until he submitted. It made Mal feel strong, but at the same time, it made him feel ugly and wrong before the rest of his pack. Grimmor, wanting to be alpha of something so badly, called upon the entire pack and asked whoever was interested in being apart of his new pack to follow him. Many went with Grimmor, but Malleus was glad that his younger brother, Moraiis, decided to stay. By the time Malleus was five years old, Grimmor and his pack attacked for what seemed like no reason. Mal hadn't even seen his brother for a long time, and looking upon him when his pack decided they wanted to fight, he looked completely different. He was angry, power-hungry, and unstable. The wolves that followed him looked afraid, threatened. Mal knew it was time to put a stop to all of this, though he didn't like what he would have to do. Moraiis was still a bit timid and reserved, but he had become Malleus's head advisor, so Mal went to him first to figure out how to go about killing their own brother. The two agreed that it would have to be a secret operation, something that would have to be done in the middle of the night. They wouldn't waste the lives of countless wolves just to slay one, not this time. Malleus sent his best and most stealthy assassins, and they returned with Grimmor's blood on their jaws. Malleus was sad for a long time after that, but deep down, he knew it had to be done. He couldn't let personal relationships get in the way of the well being of the rest of the pack. Little by little, Grimmor's pack came wandering back, and Mal made no move to punish them for following Grim in the first place. The pack was together again, and that was all that mattered. Peace reigned for a time after that until natural disaster struck during Mal's sixth year of life. The summer had been dry and rain was scarce. It was obvious that there would be a chance of forest fires, but to the wolves of Malleus's pack, danger from anything else but rivaling packs seemed distant and impossible. The fire was caused by lightning strikes from a massive storm, and this fire struck in the night, so the wolves awoke scared and confused. Many perished in the flames, including Moraiis. Not long after the fire itself, barely enough time for Malleus to grieve for the loss of his last brother, floods struck the land, and more wolves perished. Malleus's world seemed to be crumbling before his eyes, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He tried to gather survivors, but there were not many. Maybe an eighth of the pack was still living and able to walk, and Malleus insisted on staying with each and every one of them until things were alright. With the beginning of the following winter, the remaining sliver of what once was a strong and powerful pack began to shrivel even more. Malleus tried to stay optimistic, but it was hard. Somehow, a handful of wolves survived that winter, and when spring came, they all decided as a group to disband in order to find larger packs to live in. The land they had once thrived on was desolate, and their numbers lessened with the passing of each season. Disbanding was for the best. So Malleus said goodbye to his past and began traveling alone. In the midst of the autumn season, he came upon a new land, and saw it as the perfect opportunity to regain what he had lost: a family, a pack. » roleplay post. (my post is a rped part of Mal's history) There was a tension on the wind, and the soot-pelted brute could feel it weigh heavily upon him as he moved at a quick, quiet trot to the clearing where he had agreed to meet with his younger brother and advisor, Moraiis. It was late in the pitch of night, and the only light shining down was that of the moon, glowing, lighting his path. Golden visionaries flickered their gaze about, and Malleus scanned each heavy bundle of brush as he passed, hoping that no one was following him, but expecting it anyway. Scars of all shapes and sizes adorned the beast's chest and forelegs, scattering little reminders of each battle he had fought so valiantly in over his bodice. The dark canid moved with his head low, but his auditory pillars high, on full alert. This meeting he and his younger sibling were about to have was to be kept as secret as possible, for fear that those who had chosen to go with Grimmor, Malleus's twin brother, might catch word of what Malleus had decided to do. Grimmor was violent, power-hungry, and an angry brute at that. The only way to stop him and to stop this raging war between packs for good was to end his life, something that Malleus never thought he would have to do. Grimmor had been Malleus's best friend for his entire life, and after the loss of their mother and father, they grew even closer as brothers. The two had even ruled the pack as a team for a time, but Malleus knew that Grimmor wouldn't stand for that for too long.
The clearing where Malleus and Moraiis agreed to meet came into view, and the shadowed creature's aureate orbs brightened as he caught a glimpse of his younger brother, already there waiting for his arrival. The lean, ashen brute's frame slowed as he neared his younger sibling, and the two exchanged greeting nods. Moraiis was a bit smaller than Malleus, and his pelt was slightly brighter in color. The two looked similar, but were not as identical as Malleus and Grimmor were. Malleus spoke, his voice low and quiet, still a bit worried about spies from Grimmor's pack eyeing their meeting from the shadows. "I've decided," the brute said, a sadness lingering in his tone, knowing that this murder was to be an act of desperation: they had no other choice. "Our brother must be stopped, and the only way to do this is to take his life." A look of surprise came over Moraiis's facade then, and Malleus could see it clearly. "We have no other choice. I know how hard it will be. Believe me, he is my twin, after all... but we can't let this war, a war that took the lives of so many, including our mother and father, to carry on any longer." With this, Malleus's sun-kissed gaze searched his younger brother's expression for a sign of acceptance, but all to be found was a hardening gaze to the ground between the smaller wolf's paws. Malleus gave a small sigh and stepped closer to his sibling. "You must understand. I don't want to do it either, but it has to be done, for the good of all of us."
Moraiis looked up into Malleus's bright eyes then and gave a slow nod. The younger wolf spoke in return, adding his piece. "When shall it be carried out, brother?" Malleus's maw crinkled into a small smile, glad that his brother agreed with him. It wasn't a smile free of sorrow, however, as the thought of clenching his jaw down upon Grimmor's throat was a hard one to handle, especially after the two had spent their entire lives together. The sooted beast spoke again, standing a bit taller, trying to make himself fully realize what he would have to do, and that he needed to do it for the sake of his pack, not for himself. "This will need to be carried out very secretly. We'll have to strike with a small team in the middle of the night. I don't want his forces taking us on in a frontal assault, you see." Moraiis nodded as his older brother spoke. The dark beast, scarred physique prominently showcased under the light of the moon above the clearing, bent his hind pillars and seated himself, tail whisking around him as he settled his nerves. If anyone had been watching them, they would have done something by now, or at least, Malleus would have sensed their presence. "So," the brute began, a more confident tone ringing through his words, "Is it decided then?" Moraiis nodded, his face still radiating an anger and a sadness. Malleus normally had to fight much harder with his younger brother when it came to big decisions, but this time he seemed to be giving in quite easily. Malleus nodded in return, and he rose from his seated position, motioning with his skull and snout for his younger sibling to follow him back to the pack's main denning area. The two trotted off, having decided the fate of their more violent sibling, though the hardest part of creating a long-lasting peace was far from over. [866] » alias. Befera » experience. 8 years » how you found us. i'm from RLTW and you guys posted an ad there :D » set. click here. » permission. yes. image is stock from deviantART, and the only rule the provider said was to credit them, and seeing as i provided a link to the deviation itself, i credited them. |
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Post by bailey on Mar 14, 2013 14:17:01 GMT -8
» CALLISTO five. female. border collie. heterosexual. rhazorn. » general appearance. A dainty thing, Callisto is hardly something you'd look at and consider fierce or intimidating. She's lithe and light, built with delicate bones. Her frame is slight, built for speed. Agility is of second nature to this fearless canine, the power of moving quickly and easily a raw, natural ability. It's what she was bred for. The pure blood of two champion Border Collie's thrives in her veins, and though some may consider such a carefully crafted animal a stuck up priss, it has it's perks. Conformation built for endless endurance, a solid structure to fall back on, she's undoubtedly in perfect condition. Layered with lean muscle and paper thin skin, she's light weight at just over thirty three pounds, and a small, sneaky canine standing about twenty inches at the shoulder. Uniquely colored, Callisto is blanketed in long, soft salt and pepper grey fur, accented with red marbling. She's spotted and speckled in an uniformed pattern, rosy splotches marring her face, sides, and long, plush tail. Her visage is an ethereal, intricate painting, bathed in shades of crimson. A snowy white mask stretches from her pastel pink nose, between her shockingly blue eyes, lining her velvety perked ears, and extending in a thick collar around her downy neck. Her stomach and paws are frosted in a pearly, pale absence of color. But don't be fooled by her small, nearly innocent presentation. Callisto carries herself with a unique sense of pride. She never lacks a confident step, and is always calculated and precise with her well planned movements. What her stature claims insufficient, she more than proves false with her dauntless, ceaselessly valiant way of going. » personality. Rebellious. From a very young age, Callisto, or Callie to those who know her best, as always been the defiant little bitch of the family. She tortured her siblings, constantly wrestling and pestering, gnawing and chewing. She developed a potent hatred for humans, for no particular reason. She growled, snarled, snapped and attacked. Fearless and shameless, she took solace in the flinches and nervous cries emitted from panicked young humans when her hackles raises and lips curled. She would not be subject to their incessant petting and prodding. She watched each of her siblings be adopted out into 'happy' homes, only handed over once the human holding them was given a substantial amount of that mysterious green paper. Callie-- now, Callie was much too vain to be labeled as worth a specific amount of money. Her unique merle body made her desirable among the frustrating humans, and so, in turn, she made herself the least desirable she could muster. The family was a good family, and left Callisto be, in fear if they turned the pretty collie in to the shelter, she would be subject to euthanasia . This all worked out to the quarrelsome female's advantage. Enthusiastic. Now despite her immense distaste for those on two legs, Callie got along just fine with other canines. Ceaselessly exuberant and playful, her energy hardly ever dwindled. Endlessly optimistic, her flamboyant, quick witted speech leaves many stunned. She's shockingly friendly, and unless given a reason, she's typically cool and collected. She has a unique, sarcastic edge that leaves most fumbling for something to say next, and if you do happen to lose your momentum when speaking to her, she'll probably lose interest and disappear before you have a chance to gain your footing. She grows bored quickly, and her energetic personality means that she needs someone either interesting or peculiar enough to keep her mind twisting and turning. Jealous. Very much so. If anything in the world, Callisto is completely and utterly jealous. Possessive and protective, if you've managed to capture and retain her interest, she will strive to be in your spotlight. She will fight, argue, flirt, and snarl to the top, just to get your eyes on her. But it goes both ways. Those who she is not possessive but protective of are the light of her world. She'd give her life for those she loves, and those she has vowed to defend. She'd fight to the death, maim, and kill to shelter those she has promised to. Leader. As you might expect an alpha to be, Callisto is very much a naturally born leader. Fearless in her way of going, she obtains a unique tenacity and brazen audacity that makes her just perfect. She seems to lack a sense of self preservation, which though may later contribute to her death, means she bravely goes into any situation with a clear head and stupendous heroism. She will stand up to just about anyone, and if there is trouble, she's hardly the type to back down, even when faced with imminent danger. » likes. being in authority, sarcasm, a sense of humor, submission on another's behalf, chivalry, valiance, individuals who carry themselves proudly, being underestimated, playing the innocent 'damsel in distress', deception, war(to an extent) » dislikes. cocky individuals, wolves, a sudden change of plans, immaturity, vanity(she only accepts her own), accusations, Xarthen, death » strengths. diplomacy, quick wit, will power, rolls with the punches, constantly bright, stealthy » weaknesses. often disregarded for her size, romance, getting involved in drama, lacks excessive strength » family. aria - mother - deceased gloster - father - deceased maestro - brother - lost lumen - sister - lost » history. Callisto was born like any other pup of her time. She never knew of her father, and spent her months growing into a young lady pestering her mother and bossing around her siblings. She was an energetic, hyperactive little thing. She hardly slept, and was always a mess, getting into things. She shredded and gnawed furniture, tore up clothes, left her mother sleep deprived and her siblings bleeding with her rambunctious, occasionally savage behavior. But nonetheless she grew. The runt of the three puppies, Callie was hardly one to be pushed around, by her siblings or what her mother called 'their humans'. She was not a pet. From a young age she showed nothing but aggression when faced with interaction from the two legs. She was adored by all humans with her unique red merle coloring, and as she was weaned, a feat that was quite easy as Callisto was more than willing to abandon her mother in the interest of adventure, more and more two legged freaks attempted to befriend her, and some offered to purchase her using that silly, worthless green paper. They all changed their minds after one attempt at touching her. With a snarl and a snap, she chased away every last person. Finally, their owners decided that if they wanted to keep Callie alive, she would have to stay-- after all, her unusual coloring made her an asset to their breeding program. But, silly humans, they had no idea what was coming for them. The dogs were fairly oblivious. The owners began to make less and less of an appearance, until it finally completely ceased. And one day, the world shuddered. From miles around, explosions ripped into the fragile Earth. Gun shots pelted the air, spraying blood and gunpowder across the shaking expanses. Bombs fell from the sky like diving hawks, slamming into the ground with such incredible force, buildings for miles crumbled. The house in which Callisto and her mother lived in fell victim to the attack. The walls shattered around them, great cracks dismembering the foundation. Th wood screamed and concrete groaned as it was turned to powder with the pressure put on it. Callie ran for it. An athletic thing, she bounded the fence with ease, escaping the teetering home just before it collapsed in a mangled, disfigured mess, wit her mother inside. She mourned. Ached. Cried. She missed her mothers guidance, and suddenly wished she could go back and change the way she lived. But it was much too late for that. At just two years old, the youngster took her time healing. She dug relentlessly through the rubble, whining, whimpering, begging for her mother. But she was not to be found. After a week of waiting, of praying, Callisto left. Her grievance period over, she steadied herself. It was an entirely different world outside her confined walls, and the weak would not survive for long. So she hardened herself. She fought, she devoured prey, and most importantly, she lived. She earned a reputation for her strength, psychologically. Others began to follow her. Many females found they could feed from her power. They trusted her, listened to her. They became a family of friends, dependent on everyone and no one at the same time. Nearly the most rowdy of the four cliques to emerge, they were known for their bold presence. They owned the world when you were in their company. For a year, this worked well. They got along with the other groups fairly well, though Callie tended to have a dislike for the wolves. They considered themselves such superior beings compared to all others, and Callisto did not appreciate them looking down their noses at her or her family. She readily advised that the others should keep clear of the Xarthen. But one did not listen. Time passed, and the female would not be ordered around. She would learn for herself, Callie presumed, and let the wild thing be. It was only when several of the Rhazorn retrieved Callie, exclaiming the young bitch had been mauled that Callisto took action. After laying eyes on the bloodied figure and being assured she would be taken care of to the best of her fellow Rhazorn's abilities, Callie went after him. The fight was brutal, but her quickness prevailed. The three year old Collie took down the large male wolf as best as she could, leaving with many injuries herself. She does not know if the wolf survived, and she doubts the Xarthen member knows if she did, but the fight created bad blood. Immediately, the packs were at each others throats. Rhazorn was furious with the Xarthen for savaging one of their members, and Xarthen found themselves angry that Callisto had acted so violently. In her mind, how could she not? As time goes on, the bad blood only grows thicker, and war seems to be approaching. Every day is a new day, and the battle could be just around the corner. And Callie will be there to meet it with a smile on her lips. » roleplay post.
Ever so slowly the collie paced through the mall, piecing her mind together. It took effort. Every part of her wanted to collapse, sleep comfortably, without a care in the world. But those days were over. An undisturbed night was now worth its weight in gold, but was also undeniably unattainable. So many dangers lurked around every bend, and with those pitiful Xarthen wolves growing braver and more brazen with every waking second, it was not smart to relax. Predators loomed. If one listened at night, unearthly yowls and disturbing screams could be heard, echoing through the ghost town endlessly. None of these bothered the Rhazorn alpha. In fact, she welcomed the otherworldly noises. They were much preferred to silence. When quiet fell over Eastmoor, death was in the air. Reaping, haunting, stealing away unsuspecting souls in the most tortuous ways. Unthinkable ways. To sleep in a public place, like the mall she wandered through now was simply like begging Mr. Grimm himself to come on over. So the red merle busied herself with other tasks.
They'd been lucky, finding the rationed, freeze dried food, but they weren't in the clear yet. They needed a more convenient source of water, and more cloth for beds was always a plus. She didn't allow herself to think of exhaustion which thickened her blood, slowing her down, wearing her out. She had a pack- her pack relying on her to provide them with a refuge safe from the monstrosities the tattered city now housed. It was a thought that drove her forward, motivated every muscle in Callisto's feather light body. It was all the encouragement the young alpha needed, and with the words still filling her mind, she broke into a trot, padding down the distorted tile floors, whispering over the ground.
It wasn't long before she caught the scent of something, or rather, someone. The first smell was unmistakable. A fellow pack member. Delightful! Just what she needed, a sister to lift her spirits. She moved into a lazy lope, mauve nose held high toward the ceiling, following the trail. Her smooth tail flirted with the dusty floor as she leaped over fallen debris and weaved expertly through toppled carts, pursuing the undeniable smell with great enthusiasm. As she drew closer though, she hesitated. Her flowing stride faltered, and eventually she came to a complete halt, ears flicking forward to listen. Her pack mate's words found her sensitive ears first, and she nearly relaxed, but a second voice resounded off the walls just seconds later. "What a kind offer."
At first one could guess a deal was being made. But the snide way the words spilled from the male's deep tones said otherwise. Her hackles raised slowly, adrenaline shooting through her veins at a dangerously rapid pace. Her nerve endings were lit aflame, and her blood ignited like a liquid fire, surging through her, supplying her quickening heart with enough life force to run for ages. Tired, she was no more. She sprang forward once more, fleet as a feline a she pounded nimbly through the rubble. She was close, she could sense it, and taking care to be a deathly quiet as a shadow mirroring its owner, she bounded atop a kiosk's table and leapt from the ledge, rocketing through the musty oxygen and landing just paces behind the ghostly white figure, just in time to hear "I, however, am hardly so generous."
The lithe female took just a second to scour the male. Layered with muscle and exuding brute strength, he was not a particularly relaxing sight. He was bigger than she, and was blocking the exit of what Callisto now realized was two Rhazorn members. The collie squared her shoulders, leaning low to the cool floor in a herding like stance, snowy lips curling to expose equally pearly fangs. A calm demeanor washed over the proud alpha as she prepared herself for what may happen next. She'd lost one sister already, she would not readily give up two more. Still posed in a defensive stance, the canine prepared to leap between her two family members and the other which seemed to hold himself with such high regard. "Can I help you?" The words were low, sultry even, and remained steady, unphased and unworried by the situation. She simply wanted answers- and to protect her family. With that thought, Callisto's icy eyes shot toward Andie and Sigma, relieved to find them unscathed. She would keep them that way.
» alias. whore. or Bailey. either one, really. » experience. fo'eva and evas and evas! » how you found us. so one time, I was camping. and this MASSIVE effing bear started chasing me. and I tried to stop and tell it to go after this freak named sarah :/, but the idiot wouldn't listen, so I kept running and this massive, scary, but sexy wolf named lark jumped up and saved me and I was all like  sex, marry me? and he was like no, and I said okay, and then I was here. cool story, right? » set. click here. » permission. deviant art stock So, I'm a freak. I resigned because I didn't know if I would have time for this place. Turns out I have an unhealthy addiction and obsession with it.. oops! So I thought "Why the hell not?" And decided to audition. Her bio is already set up like an alpha's anyway xD
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Post by lg on Mar 14, 2013 15:10:37 GMT -8
This sight deprived, delusional, prideful bastard (almost forgot perfectionist) of a wolf wants a go for alpha » LAIGAR (Lay-gar) “LG” 6yrs. Male. Wolf. Questionable. Xarthen. » general appearance. LG’s appearance is that of mystery and opposition. His lean body is coated with thick coal black fur, which in the shifting light seems to add formlessness to him, like he is as forever changing as the shadows themselves. Only a few light flecks of grey and white break through his black cloak, like the first rays of sun after a long, bitter night. The twisting black hair congeals into large paws, that carry LG easily over crisp winter snow and ice, short ears, and a mouth full of ivory teeth that have been the end of many prey and foe alike. Of course LG’s most noted feature is his eyes. Strangely pale eyes, that lack the normal milky auburn gold that the rest of his blood have. His eyes are like faded scars. They are colorless, a pale silver in color, the color of eyes that have long since lost much of the sight of the world around them. A genetic impurity that LG refuses to admit to, and does his best to hide. LG is a brute that stands, otherwise, as a fine example of this blood. He is a tank, standing at 35inches at the shoulder, measuring 6’6 from muzzle to tail, and weighing in at around 120 pounds, he is powered by lean muscles, fine tuned to the demands of life. » personality. STUBBORN Shown in a big way in his day to day life, he refuses to budge from his beliefs, once he has something in his mind it’s stuck there, and near impossible to change, this makes him determined, and strong willed, mainly because he doesn’t want to be proven wrong. Of course, another big way this is shown is in the way he refuses to acknowledge that he is slowly and surely losing his sight. He has himself believing that it is temporary and will pass. DETERMINED His strong, bull headedness, makes this young male determined to prove himself right in almost any situation, because his pride won’t let him lie down and accept the fact that he, may in fact, be dead wrong. Of course this is both a good thing, and a bad thing. It means that during hunts and fights he is most often successful in the end, but it also means that he is putting himself at more risk to prove a point and doesn’t know when he’s in over his head. PRIDEFUL This male has a high held pride for not only himself, but wolf blood. He turns up his nose to Mutts, and anything that, in his mind, would be imperfect. This pride of course, is part of what lead to his delusional view of his sight loss. INTELLEGENT LG is smart. To put this simply LG knows how to use his mind to give him an edge. This cunning of his has saved him many times over and also giving him a handy ability to sweet talk. LIAR He knows what to say and how to say it to get the best outcome for himself. It could be called Sweet talk, but really it’s more like lying. It’s something that he has spent a long time perfecting, telling everyone what they want to hear, in a “means to an end” sort of way. After all he’s looking out for number one. SELFISH LG is not totally selfish, however, it is something that does appear from time to time. It’s more of his survival instinct than anything, it’s something that only really comes out when it’s life or death and there’s no way to get out. It’s something that he is aware of, and is always trying to keep away. Selfishness is own inner demon, one that screams imperfection even more than his failing sight. So it’s the biggest part of himself that he tries to fix. » likes. Wolves, Snow, Night, Perfection » dislikes. Blindness, Imperfection, Mutts » strengths. Intelligent, cunning, stubborn, and Determined. » weaknesses. Prideful, Stubborn, Delusional, Selfish, Sight Loss » family. Father - Livith - assumed deceased Mother - Unknown Brother - unnamed - deceased » history. LG was born to the alpha pair of a small, near nonexistent pack, that resided mainly in a small mountain valley. He was one of two pups born, him and a stillborn brother. His mother, whom he doesn’t remember, and cannot understand the nagging feeling of neglect of missing someone he never really knew, left him long before his first memory. His father raised him, in their closed off little haven of frosted grass and bright star filled nights. Their closed off life is part of what lead to his rather, wolf centered pride that he has now. His earliest memory is walking with his father along a mountain spring, in silence, listening to the gasping breeze and crickets, most of his early memories are good ones much like that, memories of fresh meat, fishing, babbling streams and warm sunlight refracting on the surface of cool water. He liked those memories, and can only imagine how much more soundly he’d sleep at night if they were the ones that he dreamed about, he’s not that lucky though. He’s never been that lucky. It’s all good memories, until he was about three years old. His father left when he was three. Not so much left as disappeared without a trace. He remembers the night well, cool and crisp with the distinct smell of crisp leaves and mud, and possibly a lingering smell of iron blood (though he’s not sure why he remembers smelling blood, he doesn’t remember anything bleeding)… His father was taking a small hunting party, of about three wolves, out; LG was to stay, nursing a wound on his paw brought on by his own stupid mishap with a porcupine. He waited, and the party never returned. He spent days and nights limping around the valley trying to pick their scent out of pine and dirt, to no avail. He eventually gave up. The disappearance of his father left him in charge of the fractured pack long before he had any skills as a leader. He was much too young and inexperienced to keep the pack together, they were horrible hunters, and infighting brought stress and sleeplessness that exhausted everyone, mainly him. Slowly but surely the pack broke apart, until LG was left completely alone. It was around this time that the first hints of problems with his sight appeared. He spent a lot of time alone, wandering, hungry. It was dumb luck that when he was nearly five, not quiet five but not quiet four, that he found the Xarthen. He worked his way into their ranks through blood and tears, until he made a name for himself, trying to cover up the fact that he would probably never belong there, he would always be an outsider. He would always be imperfect. It is with them that he preached his views about the Mutts, and where he witnessed many imperfections in more than just wolf blood. It’s where he hides the problems with his sight, problems that have led to more than one mishap with prey of footing. He hides it well though, no one seems to suspect that he has such a problem. » roleplay post.
The air was crisp, cool, and smelled like rust and pine needles. The young brute tried to focus on the edge of the clearing, where the loose grasses met the thickness of the surrounding forest. The grey hues blurred together into something formless, and closed in around him, he almost panicked… Then he realized that he was crying. Whimpering and Weeping like the lost child that he was. He was sick of being strong. He was sick of being cold. Most importantly, he was sick of being alone, jumping and cowering at every sound that echoed at him from the shadows. His stomach fell into a strange, sad song with the yowls that left his mouth. How long had it been since he’d eaten anything but a field mouse? He was sure that he was slowly starving to death. He was sure that he was dying. It was the only way that he could explain the tight feeling in his chest and the ache in his head.
The tears were something that shocked him. The fear of death had made him so weak minded. He hated himself suddenly, hated how imperfect he was. Why was he waiting till now to cry? Why did everyone leave? Why couldn’t he have stopped them? A soft growl broke through the whimpers as the brute sucked in a shaky breath and again glanced feebly in front of him. Through the thick grimy blur, the lingering tears combined with the shadows and failing sight, the tree line gradually cleared into something that made sense to him. The forest was safe, but nothing like his home. He squinted slightly, and fought another whimper as a shudder ripped along his spine and made his legs shake slightly.
The dark shadows of the forest gave way to a form that, even blurred, was all too familiar to him. It had been so long since he’d seen another wolf, that every part of his being screamed at him to run. Living beings were dangerous and brought nothing but pain.
But he was too tired to run, he tightened his muscles, pushed out his chest to make himself look stronger. Inside he was falling apart, but outside, he stood as an opposing force against the strangers gaze.
» alias. LG » experience. 8 – 9yrs » how you found us. I stumbled across your affiliate doing some advertising. » set. click here and here. » permission. Creative commons license on Deviant Art.. |
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Post by GREYtheFLAILER on Mar 14, 2013 22:38:40 GMT -8
These will be closed over the weekend. Please get all auditions in asap. C:
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Post by cowgirlup on Mar 15, 2013 11:45:20 GMT -8
» SILAS 6yo. Male. Labrador. Straight.Cesavias. » general appearance. Silas is the perfect example of a purebred Labrador retriever. His coat is a very light golden color decorated with darker hairs on the tips of his ears, tail, and down his dorsal. The darker places are simply a darker hue of the golden color that covers the rest of his thickly muscled frame and the flesh beneath his soft golden coat is dark in order to protect the working dog from the harsh rays of sun. Standing at twenty three inches the brute is just a tad bit taller than the average Labrador, leaning more towards the taller much more slender of his cousins rather than the shorter stockier variety of his breeding, he weighs in at roughly seventy pounds but looks slimmer than that because of the layer of muscle that replaces the fatty layer known of his breed. Si sees the world through pale brown and amber hued pools that are very expressive of the emotions boiling beneath the surface. Typical of his retriever breeding the brute has forward flopping, medium sized ears that tend to stand forwards more when listening to something and his tail is carried just above his back in a way that shows off the slight confidence of the male. » personality. Silas is a fairly simple character, raised in a strong southern family with strong southern morals and values and a special way of looking at the world that seemed to be slowly dying as the generations grew older. All of his lyrics are spoken softly with a thick accent that has been known to cause many a female to swoon, but yet they carry the deepness that comes with the “y” chromosome. ( Click here for his vocal reference) The light colored brute doesn’t speak often but when he does allow his deep lyrics to slip from his vocal chords you may want to listen up as the words have been thought over meticulously and must carry some sort of importance to the case at hand. Si can come across as slightly standoffish or aloof at times, but once you actually get to know the brute then you understand that he is truly a very open-minded individual who just tends to keep his thoughts to himself rather than flaunt them all over the place. He would much rather dry his dirty laundry indoors rather than air it out in the yard. Strong in his southern ways the brute doesn’t see the point in throwing feelings about and tends to avoid spending large amounts of time with females, as to avoid the confusion of whether or not there is something going on between them. He does, eventually want to settle down with a female with similar values as his own and have a large family but for the time being he wants to focus on getting his own life set, so he knows that he can support a family of the caliber he yearns for. The brute is quite the adventurous spirit behind all of his quite exterior, Si loves running and anything with wide open spaces. But he also enjoys the complexity of caves and forests just because it exercises the sense that aren’t as needed when racing through the farmer’s fields. You can occasionally find him at the top of waterfalls, or climbing up rocks just to look out over the edge and check out the scenery, many have called him quite feline like because of this tendency. » likes. Wide open spaces, adventure, really talkative canines, solitude, working, spring, rain, rivers, just water » dislikes. being indoors, closed in areas, canines that he has to carry the conversation with, large groups of others, being idle, winter and summer, snow, cats. » strengths. very thoughtful, polite, gentlemanly, loyal, protective, family guy » weaknesses. quite, scared to fall in love with the wrong girl, feelings, can’t sit still » family.
Haywood: Father – Yellow Lab – Bird Dog (deceased)
Hannah Leigh: Mother – Chocolate Lab – Companion breeding bitch (deceased)
Marleigh Anne: Sister – Yellow Lab – Companion breeding bitch (unknown)
Hank: Brother – Chocolate Lab – K9 (bombs & narcotics) (unknown) [/b] Half-Brothers: Numerous, their names are unknown (unknown)[/b] Half-Sisters: Numerous, their names are unknown (unknown)[/b] » history. Where to start on the story of all that Silas has done…? It’s not normally something that he likes to delve into, mainly because it requires a lot of talking on his part which is something he’s never been quite fond of. But, I suppose just this once we could share a bit of it so you can have a better idea of what lies beneath his aloof exterior. It all started one warm spring day, exactly sixty three days after the chocolate female with the soft golden colored eyes had her first and only encounter with the muscular yellow brute that she would likely never see again. Not her proudest moment, but it eventually brought about the lights of her world. Born of their mating was three purebred labs, only one of which resembled their mother at all while the other two were identical to their father, the male (Silas) more so. Marleigh Anne, Hank, and Silas were born into the world each with a completely different life plan set out for them and their personalities showed through from the second that their eyes opened. ‘Leigh Anne was a quite outgoing type who seemed to have a serious motherly streak that was proven when the more outgoing, rambunctious of the group, Hank, crushed the butterfly that she was babysitting. This ended in a mass of puppy rolling around in the grass till Hannah got up and separated them. Then, there was Silas, quite, calm Silas who seemed to be his momma’s favorite. He was going to become the next big bird dog and follow in his daddy’s pawprints while his sister was simply going to be some breeding machine and his bigger brother was to be trained to become a police k9. As the continued growing, their paths continued on down the road and eventually Silas was sold to an older duck hunter who had just recently lost his beloved black lab. Si lost track of what happened to the rest of his family as they just weren’t around any longer and as they say, “out of sight, out of mind.” After living happily with the old man for three years he passed away and Silas slipped away to find a new meaning in life.[/div][/div] » roleplay post. Dark skinned nares flared and quivered as the light spring breeze grazed the large yellow lab’s frame, his short nails clicking quietly on the cool cement of the sidewalk. Everything smelt differently these days, nothing seemed to be quite right as everything was just so…eerily silent. All of the humans seemed to have died off or just simply left, so long gone were they that their smell no longer lingered on the fence posts and lawn chairs, instead the stench of other canines filled every nook and cranny of the region that Silas had found himself in. The lack of humans though was something the pale brute had grown used too, one of the many bonuses to having been owned by some loony old man before the plight had taken him to the nicely dug six-foot hole that the body had been dumped in.
Slightly darker blonde harks flicked forward and then back to their lazy resting position as he thought of the old man and how well they had taken care of each other for the three years that he belonged to him. But he wouldn’t lie, it was quite nice to live on his own for a while, not to mention he had a leg up on a few of the other canines he had come across. Silas was a trained hunter, he would forever be able to provide for himself as long as the prey ran as strong as they had been lately, he was such a good hunter that the brute even stopped occasionally on his travels to assist a few of the less fortunate before continuing on his travel to God knows where. Long, salmon pink colored tongue slid from between the lab’s jowls lazily as his large paws slowed their pace down ever so slightly. Yellow brown pools rested on the warehouse that lay just a few yards before him.
Normally a place like this, closed in a just so…uncomfortable looking would have sent the farm dog racing off in the other direction. But something about this one had caught Silas’ attention and it wasn’t likely to stray for quite some time. Shaking his broad crown the brute snorted and tore his eyes away from the warehouse; no way in hell was he going to go in there. Surely it was some kind of trap. Taking a step in the opposite direction Silas stopped once more and looked over his shoulder at the building that was calling his name like a long lost lover. Something wanted him to check the building out and see what was so interesting about it that he couldn’t leave it, grumbling under his breath the male turned and loped lazily towards the doors that seemed like they were ready to fall off of their hinges at any time.
Yellow pools looked about the small yard that was in front of the building, still curious as to why he was here and what this place wanted with him. Not finding his answer outside he took a deep breath of the cool fresh air before pressing a large paw against the door. Particles of dust danced in the ray of sun light that broke through the boarded up windows and as the door was opened, the spring breeze caused more of the dust to stir. A sneeze broke the eerie silence of the pale golden brute as he tentatively took a step through the threshold, still feeling the beckoning of the building. The place was large, a few pieces of furniture still strewn across the various rooms, the doors that he had just opened slowly swung back to the partially shut position they had been in, the only doors to the entire building. Something simple and easy to protect. Images of puppies and their mothers rolling around on the ground and the elders napping lazily on the beat up couches as the younger, stronger canines delivered fresh kill and kept patrol filled his mind and the corners of his velvets were tugged up into what could only be described as a smile.
Silas had found his home, one of these days there would be others here prospering with him and he would do anything in his power to protect them. » alias. what you go by in chat. » experience. About 5-7 years. » how you found us. An advertisement. » set. click here. please provide the link of the set that you wish to use for the character. » permission. dA stock photos. [/div][/center] |
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Post by GREYtheFLAILER on Mar 15, 2013 13:33:23 GMT -8
Auditions will be officially ending Saturday, no later.
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Post by GREYtheFLAILER on Mar 17, 2013 21:47:37 GMT -8
» THE ALPHAS ( step into the spotlight ) To all of you, thank you for auditioning. This decision was a very difficult one, hence why it was extended far past its original ending date. Each and every audition was a flawless one, and even to those who do not get picked--do not let that get you down. You're all amazing writers. Seriously, choosing caused me physical pain. The alphas are as follows; Nihilaria's Menelaos for Cesavias.
Bailey's Callisto for Rhazorn.
Befera's Malleus for Xarthen.
As I said earlier, all the auditions were absolutely amazing, and I hated having to choose. Keep in mind, however, the alphas chosen may be subject to change, should they grow inactive or become unfit to lead. Those with complaints and/or questions can feel free to PM me, as this thread will be locked accordingly. As well, all alphas must please write up Ranks, Rules, and Sign-Up threads which must be updated regularly. So, I present to you our new generation of alphas! Please no hard feelings, and remember how hard of a decision this was. |
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sex, marry me? and he was like no, and I said okay, and then I was here. cool story, right?