Post by Knives on May 14, 2006 15:57:48 GMT -5
Name: Knives
Gender: Brute
Age: 5 Suns
Mate: Hetake (deceased, looking for a new one)
Pups: Storm (son-deceased)
Siblings: Vash (brother-living)
Appearance:
Knives is a hulking, muscular brute. Iron muscles roll visibly beneath his coat with his movements and his toned legs are encased with them. His pelt is thick, somewhat lengthy, and rather shaggy in a ragged sort of way. This is dyed a deep raven black although gray paints his chest and runs along his underbelly as well as engulfing his large paws. Because of this it is needless to say he stands out, save for in the shadows, but after making note of this lack of camouflage he found other ways to be undetected. Endurance, for obvious reasons, his one of his strong points but he has over the years made himself quite recognizable in the ways of stealth as well. His eyes are a sharp, eerie yellow and a wicked sheen forever glimmers upon them.
With a body like the one Knives possesses it is no wonder the Brujo is quite a formidable force in battle. And when this combines with a headstrong, flaring personality it means trouble. This muscular frame is painted with various scars, a scrap book of sorts in remembrance to all previous skirmishes that, more often than not, he had won.
Personality:
At one time, Knives wasn’t at all bad. He was a grudging, bad-tempered little pup but at that time he wished no ill-doings upon the world. Yet, eventually, reality made some things rather clear to him. His fellow Wolven were weak, easily bendable and susceptible to manipulation. He became as some would call cruel, caring for nothing but his own well-being… and perhaps that of his brother’s. Cold, and hateful, Knives wants to rule the world, to weed out those not worthy of the title of ‘Dog’ and allow those truly creditable to flourish. Resent for his younger brother rides strong within him, but Knives doesn't want to kill him, instead, he still seeks to have Vash rule with him. What could be better? Brother and brother, both from the same pure line, spreading their ways and passing on their noble blood.
Knives is quick to temper and has a freakishly short patience for those he deems unworthy of his time. Yet despite all the rumors and some of his other ways, he is not one to kill another on the spot without reason. Senseless violence does not suit him, although he will not hesitate to bring his fangs to another’s throat should there be reason for him to do so.
History:
Two young cubs wander the woods, lost and alone. One is leggy, and the other a build for endurance. The taller one, Vash, lets out a mournful howl, calling for anyone to come to try and help he and his elder brother. His brother, a shiny black with red-tinged eyes spins around, snapping at Vash, "Shut up! Someone might hear you!" The first looks down to the ground, feeling lonelier then ever.
A gray femme, an older adolescent, approaches the pair, her kind brown eyes sparkling. Vash immediately runs to her, and she nuzzles him gently. Knives is a little more hesitant, not caring for this display at all. "I'm Vash!" The red pup says happily, grinning. He wags his tail excitedly, and Knives follows, glaring at the ground. "I'm Rem Seibrem..." She smiles, and leads the two youngsters to her pack. One more fae, and three brujo's greet them merrily. Vash yaps excitedly, playing with a pinecone, unknowing to the fact that his brother is slipping away at that moment.
For the following year Knives wandered alone, gathering a smoldering resent for his brother for forgetting him so quickly and building up his skills. In this time, his ways became dark and shadowy, for the life of a loner, especially at his age, is one filled with hardships. Despite everything, Knives grew and flourished, although still his thoughts turned darker and more cruel with each new adversity thrown his way. Finally, around a year and a half after he first left his brother, Knives returned to the pack. It was in this return that he became aware of just how weak certain wolves could be, and in a state of enthralling blood-lust he killed them all, save for his brother.
"We will be the only dogs alive on this earth, Vash!” He remembers himself exclaiming as Vash crouched at the female Rem’s side, watching as more blood eked from her torn throat. “We'll rule together!" But Vash merely turned tail and ran, shouting back "You killed her!" It was a long while before he saw his brother again.
While wandering near a demolished pack land, Knives discovered his brother once more. Delighted, he tries once more to turn his brother into his way of thinking, to show him just how weak these dogs are and how they, together, could rule them. Of course, Vash would not listen, and eventually, after tempers and disgust for the other’s thinking flared hot, they fought. It was a struggle, with neither one truly gaining or loosing and ground, and this surprised Knives. There was more to his good-natured brother than he had thought. Yet eventually the ebon brute found himself fairing better than his sibling. Not at all wanting to kill Vash, and yet unwilling to submit, Knives took his only brother’s left foreleg and left him.
After this, Knives wandered more yet, until coming across lands he could call his own. Shadowed Wrath was the name of these parts, and there he had found a she-wolf Hetake worthy of becoming his mate. This life drew on for some years, but eventually it came apart. His mate passed on due to reasons he can’t quite recall and Knives abandoned his son and his territory without warning. The harsh reality of the loner life called to him once more, and in the seclusion of this life he formed many new ideals and goals. Soon, he would return to see what had become of his lands. And then, he would go for Vash.
RP Example: (Just made this up so don't heed too much of what is said since its really not accurate)
He was back. A dark, shadowed grin was twisted steadily upon blackened lips as the bulky shadow cracked through its brethren. Sharp, almost unnatural flaxen eyes burned through the thick dark of the newly settled night, unwavering and glimmering with a darkened delight. Broad gray pads silently beat the ground, carrying the bulk of the brute’s mass at a smooth lope.
Perhaps they think me dead, the shadow called Knives sblack personed inwardly, but once again they are wrong.
Yes, it was true, Knives, brother to Deadly Glare Alpha Vash, mate to the deceased Hetake, and former Alpha to Shadowed Wrath, had returned. His pleasure at passing through the familiar borders of his earlier home was enough to make him almost want to stop in order to survey the familiar night-washed aspects of his former lands, but he did not. There was so much yet to do, so much for he to catch up on. It wasn’t a mere sunset and sunrise that he had been gone for, oh no, he had disappeared from knowledge for quite some time. His thoughts turned then upon his family. Hetake yes was gone but there were others. Vash, as always, remained at the foreground of his thoughts, and now more prominently than ever Knives found himself wondering upon his brother. Was he yet alive? Would he finally weaken this time and accept his brother’s offers? There was no way to know this, not yet anyway, and so Knives let his brother’s image fade in his mind.
Still grinning, Knives stopped just at the trees edge before a clearing and reclined upon his muscled haunches. A few tendons popped as he did this, reminding him uncomfortably of his mounting three years, but there was still ample life left in his aging body. Tipping back his sleek, night-drenched crown, Knives parted his blackened maw and called for those still within Shadowed Wrath. It was time to see what had become of his previous home. He never did return to his old pack. It was time to move on. After many wandering days, he came across a large city. Filled with hope, he wandered in. Thats how he is here today. To make a new mate and to run a pack with her.
Gender: Brute
Age: 5 Suns
Mate: Hetake (deceased, looking for a new one)
Pups: Storm (son-deceased)
Siblings: Vash (brother-living)
Appearance:
Knives is a hulking, muscular brute. Iron muscles roll visibly beneath his coat with his movements and his toned legs are encased with them. His pelt is thick, somewhat lengthy, and rather shaggy in a ragged sort of way. This is dyed a deep raven black although gray paints his chest and runs along his underbelly as well as engulfing his large paws. Because of this it is needless to say he stands out, save for in the shadows, but after making note of this lack of camouflage he found other ways to be undetected. Endurance, for obvious reasons, his one of his strong points but he has over the years made himself quite recognizable in the ways of stealth as well. His eyes are a sharp, eerie yellow and a wicked sheen forever glimmers upon them.
With a body like the one Knives possesses it is no wonder the Brujo is quite a formidable force in battle. And when this combines with a headstrong, flaring personality it means trouble. This muscular frame is painted with various scars, a scrap book of sorts in remembrance to all previous skirmishes that, more often than not, he had won.
Personality:
At one time, Knives wasn’t at all bad. He was a grudging, bad-tempered little pup but at that time he wished no ill-doings upon the world. Yet, eventually, reality made some things rather clear to him. His fellow Wolven were weak, easily bendable and susceptible to manipulation. He became as some would call cruel, caring for nothing but his own well-being… and perhaps that of his brother’s. Cold, and hateful, Knives wants to rule the world, to weed out those not worthy of the title of ‘Dog’ and allow those truly creditable to flourish. Resent for his younger brother rides strong within him, but Knives doesn't want to kill him, instead, he still seeks to have Vash rule with him. What could be better? Brother and brother, both from the same pure line, spreading their ways and passing on their noble blood.
Knives is quick to temper and has a freakishly short patience for those he deems unworthy of his time. Yet despite all the rumors and some of his other ways, he is not one to kill another on the spot without reason. Senseless violence does not suit him, although he will not hesitate to bring his fangs to another’s throat should there be reason for him to do so.
History:
Two young cubs wander the woods, lost and alone. One is leggy, and the other a build for endurance. The taller one, Vash, lets out a mournful howl, calling for anyone to come to try and help he and his elder brother. His brother, a shiny black with red-tinged eyes spins around, snapping at Vash, "Shut up! Someone might hear you!" The first looks down to the ground, feeling lonelier then ever.
A gray femme, an older adolescent, approaches the pair, her kind brown eyes sparkling. Vash immediately runs to her, and she nuzzles him gently. Knives is a little more hesitant, not caring for this display at all. "I'm Vash!" The red pup says happily, grinning. He wags his tail excitedly, and Knives follows, glaring at the ground. "I'm Rem Seibrem..." She smiles, and leads the two youngsters to her pack. One more fae, and three brujo's greet them merrily. Vash yaps excitedly, playing with a pinecone, unknowing to the fact that his brother is slipping away at that moment.
For the following year Knives wandered alone, gathering a smoldering resent for his brother for forgetting him so quickly and building up his skills. In this time, his ways became dark and shadowy, for the life of a loner, especially at his age, is one filled with hardships. Despite everything, Knives grew and flourished, although still his thoughts turned darker and more cruel with each new adversity thrown his way. Finally, around a year and a half after he first left his brother, Knives returned to the pack. It was in this return that he became aware of just how weak certain wolves could be, and in a state of enthralling blood-lust he killed them all, save for his brother.
"We will be the only dogs alive on this earth, Vash!” He remembers himself exclaiming as Vash crouched at the female Rem’s side, watching as more blood eked from her torn throat. “We'll rule together!" But Vash merely turned tail and ran, shouting back "You killed her!" It was a long while before he saw his brother again.
While wandering near a demolished pack land, Knives discovered his brother once more. Delighted, he tries once more to turn his brother into his way of thinking, to show him just how weak these dogs are and how they, together, could rule them. Of course, Vash would not listen, and eventually, after tempers and disgust for the other’s thinking flared hot, they fought. It was a struggle, with neither one truly gaining or loosing and ground, and this surprised Knives. There was more to his good-natured brother than he had thought. Yet eventually the ebon brute found himself fairing better than his sibling. Not at all wanting to kill Vash, and yet unwilling to submit, Knives took his only brother’s left foreleg and left him.
After this, Knives wandered more yet, until coming across lands he could call his own. Shadowed Wrath was the name of these parts, and there he had found a she-wolf Hetake worthy of becoming his mate. This life drew on for some years, but eventually it came apart. His mate passed on due to reasons he can’t quite recall and Knives abandoned his son and his territory without warning. The harsh reality of the loner life called to him once more, and in the seclusion of this life he formed many new ideals and goals. Soon, he would return to see what had become of his lands. And then, he would go for Vash.
RP Example: (Just made this up so don't heed too much of what is said since its really not accurate)
He was back. A dark, shadowed grin was twisted steadily upon blackened lips as the bulky shadow cracked through its brethren. Sharp, almost unnatural flaxen eyes burned through the thick dark of the newly settled night, unwavering and glimmering with a darkened delight. Broad gray pads silently beat the ground, carrying the bulk of the brute’s mass at a smooth lope.
Perhaps they think me dead, the shadow called Knives sblack personed inwardly, but once again they are wrong.
Yes, it was true, Knives, brother to Deadly Glare Alpha Vash, mate to the deceased Hetake, and former Alpha to Shadowed Wrath, had returned. His pleasure at passing through the familiar borders of his earlier home was enough to make him almost want to stop in order to survey the familiar night-washed aspects of his former lands, but he did not. There was so much yet to do, so much for he to catch up on. It wasn’t a mere sunset and sunrise that he had been gone for, oh no, he had disappeared from knowledge for quite some time. His thoughts turned then upon his family. Hetake yes was gone but there were others. Vash, as always, remained at the foreground of his thoughts, and now more prominently than ever Knives found himself wondering upon his brother. Was he yet alive? Would he finally weaken this time and accept his brother’s offers? There was no way to know this, not yet anyway, and so Knives let his brother’s image fade in his mind.
Still grinning, Knives stopped just at the trees edge before a clearing and reclined upon his muscled haunches. A few tendons popped as he did this, reminding him uncomfortably of his mounting three years, but there was still ample life left in his aging body. Tipping back his sleek, night-drenched crown, Knives parted his blackened maw and called for those still within Shadowed Wrath. It was time to see what had become of his previous home. He never did return to his old pack. It was time to move on. After many wandering days, he came across a large city. Filled with hope, he wandered in. Thats how he is here today. To make a new mate and to run a pack with her.
