Nil's Stuff

[Zephy-Rose]

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Full Name: Raziel Kake Aristocles
Aliases: There are innumerable names for the brute, though none as familiar as "Raziel", he will also respond to "Galizur". Named after the archangel his primary title is Angel of Mystery (also Angel of Mysteries, though less commonly heard). Other titles, though not as familiar, include "Keeper of Secrets" and "The Second of Ten". Though none are directly related to his deeds they are often said to suit him well enough to not require further words. His only truly earned title is "Destroyer of Destroyers", given to him by a cult of wolves, said to have descended from the gods of chaos and discord, for annihilating nearly half their ranks.
Gender: A prime example of virility, there is no mistaking this wolf as male.
Age: Born in early autumn and nearing his eleventh year.
Breed: Timber Wolf. The direct line from which he descends can be traced by centuries to dire wolves.
Alignment: A creature of singular purpose, this brute’s allegiance is to himself alone. For the sake of simplicity, one might simply call him a monster and align him with darker forces. Yet there are multiple layers to his personality, and he is not without a heart. Likewise, he is not without sin.


THE BODY

Height: A monstrous specimen, Raziel stands an intimidating 46" in total.
Weight: Ranging between 165 and 175 pounds throughout the year, with a low of 150 during long travels. Any signs of emaciation are often hidden beneath a dense coat, which, likewise, makes it near-impossible to accurately judge the exact mass of this brute.
Pelt: Famous in many lands as liquid silver, through the years he has both dulled and darkened, leaving him cloaked in a monochromatic rainbow somehow beautiful and ugly all at once. Like all wolves, his pelt darkens to near-black in the winters, and can seem translucent-white in the summers.
Spheres: From birth, Raziel has had striking amber orbs, not quite orange nor gold. They are a natural tone with unnatural depth, as though all the world's secrets can be untold with a blink. Many a battle has he endured, though one alone has left him with a large gash through the direct center of his right eye. It maintains its original color, though remains an unsightly reminder of what can happen, even to a skilled soldier.
Scars/Markings: Three scars, vertical parallels each, lay over either eye. Placed there at birth by his tyrannical mother, the meaning of each has been lost over time. Various other injuries serve as mere reminders beneath his lush pelt.
Form: _{iuwanna. you can't make me ;-;}


THE MIND

General Temperment: _{he's an asshole;}
Positive Traits: _{he doesn't rape everything}
Fears: _{Raziel fears nothing. NOTHING. D<}
Orientation: Nearing his eleventh year, companionship turns a blind eye on sex, and, instead dwells on the hope of simply finding someone to help keep warm during the nights.
Beliefs: Raziel's religious beliefs are not held with any real tenacity and tend to be as fleeting as a first love. This is not to say he would be easily converted, as he holds a certain fondness for his family ways, despite no true love for most members of the pack. The culture of his people tends to be viewed as barbaric, containing the tradition blood sacrifices and superstitions common in lesser developed regions, though with an ancient depth that remains almost palpable, keeping traditions alive throughout the ages, despite how bizarre they might seem.
^blah


THE BLOOD

Sire: A firm believer in letting ghosts walk their realm in peace, Raziel will no longer speak the man's name. He will simply say that he was a kind man, who did the best he could to provide for his family in the wretched swamp the family line inhabited.
Dame: Oddeye Kake Aristocles. He holds little fondness for the woman, and over the years has nearly learned to hate her. Two years shy of a decade since he last saw her, and with her nearing a fifth year the season he was born, Raziel has no doubt in his mind that the woman is, at last, dead.
Siblings:
(previous litter) Astarte Kake Aristocles, an older sister now passed. Having been the femme who saw to most of Raziel's upbringing, he can recall only fond memories of her.
(litter mates) Zephon Illk Riddari, a twin brother with whom he caused endless chaos with. They traveled together for many years before the brute was killed in the tragic accident that uprooted Raziel's entire life.
Love Interest: One thing anyone can be certain of, is that Raziel is an emotionally abuse bastard when entering into a relationship. He is not known for keeping interest in one wolf for very long. At the same time he had been involved with Desolate and Evangeline, he had formed a close relationship with the king of Leere Seelen. They often met in secret. What occurred is no one's business but his own. After the dark lord's sudden disappearance Raziel had admitted, though only once, that of the wolves he had been involved with in Fantasy, Aubrey was his favorite lover. It cannot be said why, though one can assume it was because they were like-minded, more than the experience they shared together. He has been with countless dogs and several coyotes, none of which he can remember the names of. They were trivial in his days, serving on to slake his lust. More often than not, after they had formed an attachment to him and became a nuance, he would end their lives, sick of the tantrums only a lover can throw. He toyed with the woman Rasion in this manner often, even placing her as his adviser so that he might keep a close eye on her, and ensure that she was as interested in him as he was as in pleasing himself with her. In the end, he had lost interest before anything became of the situation.
Offspring: Raziel has sired and buried eleven children in total.
(first litter, bore by Desolate) Kain (son), Akaste (daughter), Kytre (son)
(second litter, bore by Evangeline) Balthazar (son), Pearl (daughter), Esmeralda (daughter), Elazul (son).
(third litter, bore by his -dog queen, need name off old laptop or someone with better memory than me-) Fafir (son), Nimae (daughter), Mantle (son).

Adoptive Children - a litter of a half dozen pups, of which he recalls only Bowen. The litter had been birthed by Evangeline, his mate at the time, and a victim of a lustful male bent on revenge against Raziel for murdering his mother.

Wards - Two children he has trained. The first of which he had encountered during a customary exile from his homelands. Her name was Makura Zouo Jiyuu, and she later hunted him down under the guise of "Destroy of Mystery". While she managed to inflict a great deal of damage, and steal the vision from one of his eyes in their final battle, he managed to end her life. The other was little more than a weanling when he first discover her on the outskirts of his pack. She has grown now, and he knows not what has become of her. The brute remembers her fondly, and hopes someday the winds will carry songs of Aleu.

Other: Ghosts, many ghosts.

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..I'm not keeping that love interest section. It's bigger than everything else and makes him seem like 500 x more of an ass than he really is. But for now, it amuses me.

[Zephy-Rose]

FORMALITIES

Full Name: Moth
Aliases: Aside from the typical titles given to a wolf of her stature in her homelands, Moth has no titles or foreshortened forms of her name she responds to.
Gender: Though not a striking example of feminity, this wolf is obviously female, if only for the gratuitous amount of curves that compose her figure.
Age: An approximation of at least six years is the general thought, based on her battle-hardened features and war-torn body. Despite this, she is still a young girl, barely nearing her second spring.
Breed: Mountain wolf, with traces of European lines dating back several generations. Blood, unless being spilled by warriors and later cleaned by the battle priestesses, was of little matter in her homelands. Wolves bred freely with wild dogs, coyotes and various other canidae. She is primarily lupine in appearance, though oversized ears suggest a small amount of coyote blood may also course through her veins.
Alignment: Neutral, erring on the side of shadows, her nature insists she please only her chosen master, whatever their alignment might be.

THE BODY

Height: Never truly measured, it was of little matter to her clansmen. Sized against another wolf she seems slight in build, possibly no more than 30” at her withers.
Weight: Nearly 95 pounds now.
Pelt: A shade of cream so light her coat is often mistaken for ivory. This color is consistent throughout her entire cloak, varying only slight on her face.
Spheres: Like gems hidden deep in the earth, not quite diamonds, but close. A distilled gray, shimmering in the dawn and ebbing to slate as the sun travels through the sky. On the night of a new moon, with no light to reflect, they seem near-black, marked only with the true ebony of her pupils.
Scars/Markings: Not particularly keen on allowing another to inspect her figure for indentifying scars, few know what lies beneath the snow-kissed pelt. There is a slight patch of baldness beneath her left ear, which also has lost a great deal of fur. She knows not why this has happened, and no healer in the many lands she has traveled have drawn conclusions other than genetic troubles.
Form:


THE MIND

General Temperment:
Positive Traits:
Negative Traits: Separation anxiety, dependency and her general fears can all be counted as her greatest flaws. She is shy, still at a young age and busy developing her personality, though old enough now that she should be gaining a good grasp on who she is, who she wants to become, and what to hate in herself. Her morals, while not lax, are sometimes questionable. She does not believe in fighting, and holds murder as one of the highest crimes a wolf can commit, yet she herself has taken the life of another—though never on a whim, never to simply satisfy a thirst for blood.
Fears: Having been orphaned at an early age, and left to fend for herself several months before finally being found by a hunting party and brought, starving and near death, to the local healers, Moth’s greatest fear is once again being put in such a situation. She feels that, without a pack to accept and aid her, she would surely be a lost cause. Likewise, despite her first memories of pack life being primarily of conflict, and having been raised in the healer’s grove where she constantly saw the infirmed and dying, she is terrified of serious injury and prefers to avoid battle all together. Of herself, she is also afraid, for a wolf so dependent on others is surely to die at an early age. On a less serve level, she loathes water. Not so much rain as rivers and creeks, where one can drown and be carried away, never to be seen again.
Orientation: Homosexual, though interested in procreating. She sees males only as a form of furthering her bloodlines, and knows from past attempts that a relationship between her and a brute would end tragically.
Beliefs: At her core, Moth is an atheist, caring nothing for the concept of gods. While she accepts that some sort of divine figure may possibly exist, it wouldn’t be quite right to call her agnostic. She was raised in an environment heavily set on pleasing ancient gods—most of which had no name, none of which heeded her prays. Several times she has considered the notion, but quickly reverts that no creature, mortal or not, could watch the travesties occurring in the day-to-day lives of their followers without offering even an inkling of help. Though, perhaps, these “gods” could all exist, but be powerless to offer aid. Which makes them not god, but immortal beings, bound to watching suffering for all eternity and beyond. Religion is a subject that makes her queasy; she prefers to leave others to their beliefs, and never again try to verbalize or even think on the matter of her own.

THE BLOOD

Sire: A renown warlord and powerful political figure, the man was only known as Quote. He was just several assassinations away from claiming the throne of her homeland. Heavy with child, Key sought her mate in the darkest of night and delivered what justice she thought was deserved.
Dame: Key, once a hermit praying to her gods how she saw fit, traveled once into the main packlands and met the dashing young Lord Quote. He had assisted her on a hunt, and later followed her back to her mountain home without her knowing, and asked her for a chance of courtship. Years later, the two became mated and brought into the world two children; Moth and Loket. Key met her end at the claws of two of Quote’s cohorts in their assassination scheme. Without him leading them, they quickly reverted into common thugs—which perhaps they had been all along—and mercilessly beat the femme to death over the course of three nights. Moth bore witness to all this, having barely been weaned, but was spared as was tradition. She was just a child at the time, and certainly could not have any involvement in her father’s death. Before leaving her clan in search of less tragic lands, she murdered both in their sleep.
Siblings: Loket, a brother with whom she was close in her early months of life. He was sent to war before their first full year of life. Upon hearing news of his death, she was devastated, and ran from her clan, knowing she had broken a sacred tenet, and could return only to find an executioner waiting.
Love Interest: Many a femme with pleasing features, and even more with pleasing personalities. However none were particularly compatible with Moth, and she has been left loveless.
Offspring: None, though she hopes to continue her lines later in life. Finding a male worthy of siring her children will prove a difficult task.
Other: Though not related, and never treated as one of her own, she counts the wolfess Stellazzio as a close family member and would have sacrificed her life defending the woman and her kin if the battle priestess had not been sent to civilize more barbaric lands. She had left their homeland shortly after the femme departed on her journey, and never heard from her again. Likewise, the healer Sedna, who trained her in the many matters of plants and herbs, had never once called her as a daughter or ward, but more like a pupil, would be considered family. He met an early end at the age of five, tending the wounded on the battlefield.



MOTH IS SO HARDCORE MAN. SHE'LL RIP YOUR FACE OFF. EVIL WOLF OF EVIL.

...Raziel would spit on her. ;-;

[Zephy-Rose]

[bg=ffffff][atrb=width,512[atrb=border,0,true] May The Cowards Live Forever

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FORMALITIES

Full Name: Jarl Tyr
Aliases: his name is Jarl Tyr, he will respond to nothing else.
Gender: Male
Age: Standing on the brink of six years of age. While not old, this brute certainly isn't young, either.
Breed: A hybrid of Timber and Mexican wolf.
Alignment: Dark, though not without manners. The brute is known for his genteel nature.


THE BODY

Height: 34", keeping to a Mexican heritage, he remains on the shorter end of the spectrum, taller than his mother yet still shorter than his father.
Weight: 140 pounds, the density of his father's blood shows true giving him a stocky appearance.
Pelt: At first glance, black. Upon further inspection, one can see a russet hue. Streaked with varying shades of gray, some nearing white, his mother's blood stands true, though diluted.
Spheres: Whitish-gray, glazed with a blue. Like freshly fallen snow at dawn.
Scars/Markings:
Form: Dense but not muscular, Jarl Tyr's figure is that of a Timber Wolf, placed on a Mexican Wolf's legs. his coat is thick and lush, but lacks true luster.


THE MIND

General Temperment: The brute's mannerisms betray his gruff appearance; Jarl Tyr is a gentleman by nature. Raised by a wanderer and a widow, their only child, his upbringing was mainly focused around polite mannerisms and proper worship of the gods. He is loyal, believing the well-being of the pack is greater than the life of one wolf-- and then willing to make the sacrifice for the greater good. Unafraid of death, he believes many, perhaps all, are brave in word. Few are as brave in deed. While such loyalty is extended to his packmates, a loyalty more intimate is reserved for his master. Choosing death before betrayal and never questioning direct orders, one might call him a blind fool. Perhaps a bit, truly unaware of the inner workings of the royal court and with little interest in involvement aside from receiving orders.
Prone to patience, this beast works wells with children, and enjoys the innocent happiness most youth has to offer. Playful, occasionally willing to make a fool of himself for the sake of his audience, but always capable of maintaining a certain air of sophistication. Often times it seems he can even maintain such sophistication while making an absolute mockery of himself, perhaps due to a tremendously high amount of self-esteem and near-inability to feel shame other than from his general appearance.
Positive Traits:
Fears: Perhaps not dying in itself, though dying alone is a true concern. It is the nature of the wolf to seek a pack and a mate, to rear offspring and befriend others. While he has no qualms with giving his life to a noble cause, and sleeps peacefully at night, he feels his purpose would not be fulfilled if none would remember his name. Fading into obscurity is a fate worse than a thousand demons. Time. The essence, the passing the existence thereof. In his youth, it seemed abundant, now that he's creeping into his sixth year it seems the days have grown shorter; the nights, colder.
Orientation:
Beliefs:


THE BLOOD

Sire: Geir Tyr, a wanderer though no scoundrel. He saw that his son was given a proper education. Eldrun Vil died in Jarl Tyr's second winter, too old to endure the harsh winter storms. After this Geir Tyr oversaw the remainder of his son's religious lessons.
Dame: Eldrun Vil, a religious fanatic, she instilled in Jarl Tyr the teachings of the gods before finally laying to rest beside her departed husbands.
Siblings: None, as his mother was quite old when she birthed him, a widow twice over-- both mates lost to disease before she entered heat, and he being the product of her last season.
Love Interest: None, currently.
Offspring: None, though ever hopeful to either adopt of sire his own.

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Rough personality is rough. But, sleep time.