Post by Vixen on Feb 8, 2012 12:14:36 GMT -5
» Name: Veles
» Alternative Name: Swagger
» Age: 4 Years
» Gender: Male
» Vahva member?: Yes please.
» Personality:
(ooc: Veles suffers from DID due to extreme trauma in his past, which broke shortly after he reached maturity. “Swagger” is his alternate identity, which will occasionally appear but he is not the host, nor normalcy for making appearances when posting with Veles.)
Veles. There is nothing sweeter to the male than the sight of blood falling onto the ground. Laced with a husky voice, and a tongue that curves the words of all expectant to let it fall upon their ears, the male is welcomed into most situations with blatant disbelief that the male could be distrustful. Trickery rushes through his blood, although not always is it intentional. Out of control, poisoned in the mind due to trauma, the male has a fractured soul that both runs hot and cold. There is little to do to control this inconsistency, and the male has long suffered from near blackouts.
There is the beast within that he was always meant to be. What happened in his past has shaped him to this beast and he hardly sees why he should make himself fall to the graces of kindness and pleasantries. Sharp words are often growled if he finds too much joy in another. He breathes and survives under the ruling of an alpha; he is loyal only to the extent it serves him, however. Temptation always consumed him in any situation. The brutality in which the male merrily conducts is done in glee and laughter, insanity always knocking at the front door. Although not a coward, the male will avoid the fight at any cost, preferring any victim he may welcome into his realm to be weaker than him.
Veles very rarely will show compassion, although even in this state does his sweetened tongue soften for a female. For how little he agrees they are worth, to kill them with kindness seems more easy to the trickster. To have them trust, to adore him, to view him as their way out when they are only being promised to be dragged in deeper to the heart of the pack is what entertains him. An endless game, for within this piece of puzzle he finally discovers use for what he suspects is more than just mere blackouts.
Within the mind lays the other side in the production of his blackouts. Joyous, basking in the youth that was, the merry grin softens and pushes away the evil edge. Although well understood he must hide himself, must never show the weakness that is his heart, the male bonds quietly in the warmth of the company of all. His bright laughter often shall rumble in his chest, his joy for life becomes infectious. This is when he is Swagger - he is all that is free, all that could be pure. All that had been before blood had taken over. Where worth and love is still an option, where harm should never befall another wolf. Not often does this beast appear, but when he does it is with hope and curiosity. A weak fight though, easily overpowered within his mind to be returned to the host. Swagger retains the cruel abilities that sizzle as his nail tips, though they are not used. The male enjoys life, tries to soften the blow of dictatorship without being caught, all while he awaits Veles to return, when he is forced to slink back into the world where he no longer does exist.
» Appearance:
Equipped with dull, dark orange-brown wolf eyes, the male can see the world at his black claws and make do with it what he will. With a snow white ears, the left one is bent due to an accident, therefore never stands fully erect, instead looking almost partially floppy.
Over three feet at the shoulder, the tall tundra body suits the male well, graced with long legs to carry him through even the deepest of snowfalls. He is quite the beast, broad in the chest and well formed to handle the larger prey he might come across. The male looks proud in a thick pelt that causes him quite a bit of problem in the particularly hot summers, though promises him to stay warm in the colder months. Though his dominant color it the pale creams and hints of golden dirt from the tundra heritage he was borne to, there is also silvers and russets that run through his fur (the russets very light, being often brought out with the proper sun reflection) being particularly noticeable showing along his back and tail.
With primarily coarse fur, the male looked rough at best. There is never an appropriate time that would make him look “well-groomed”, instead he often looks like he just finished throwing himself around in the dirt. So far, he had made it throughout life without much scarring, although his ear is the exception to his well health. Head always held high, voice rough (with a bit of a Russian twist in his tones) and demanding on the ears, the male comes across as quite the intimidation when sharp teeth are revealed, proving that his bark may just be as bad as his bite. Veles’ expressions often range from unemotional, unmoved to bright and childish, depending on what the situation calls for and what state of mind he is in.
» History: (Brief, without the juicy parts. =P)
Have you ever seen a wolf die, my son? Words echoed gently as the beast stood there high on the rocks above the little wolf who lingered. From the onset of leaving his mother’s cave, war hot and heavy in the open tundra, the little wolf was hardly equipped with the knowledge to know of any such thing. Food was dead, but food was not wolf; wolf was what he was - where is soul found home. Yet his father’s war cry of delight, blood everywhere as flesh was torn from others proved too much. Life in the time of this war, on the battle grounds as the enemy closed it was enough to doom any pup to a terrible childhood. There was no time to be trained, there was no time to run back and hide; it was to call on an innate nature while the nurtured heart cried out in protest. Death! Death did not belong here.
.+. Black Swallow Peak (Birth Pack)
Birth until 10 months.
He’s dead now, boy. Look at you. Puny. The leader whispered, Veles eyes staring as the mangled corpse on the ground. The light in orange eyes gone - the only other face of an adult he had known in his beginning, gone. Brothers, gone. The young male spun around, outrage, pain in his heart as he threw himself at the whispering brute who had torn his father’s throat out. The young warrior screamed like a banshee, blackness, the snapping of his ear as the leader suppressed the need for revenge. No! Death did not belong here.
.+. Redwood (Slave)
10 months until 2 years.
Little warrior. Slick, warm words breathed in Veles' ears. I would very much like to keep you. The alpha couple, the self-proclaimed "God" and "Goddess" most certainly had. Making the large brute into a pet, strangled childish cries eventually dying away. Slick, demeaning acts performed as he was confined. No escape. But the insanity called, the mute words rarely ever gracing the air. Death belonged here.
.+. Alone (Wanderer)
10 months until 2 years.
Long live the King and Queen. Freedom snapped at his hindquarters, something he could never understand. Confused. Alone. But running, running so far. Heart shriveled, darkened. There was no need for him to believe the world could be any different. This time, he would never bow down. There would be no mercy, no more weakness. Veles is death.
.+. Vahva (Member)
Present
» Alternative Name: Swagger
» Age: 4 Years
» Gender: Male
» Vahva member?: Yes please.
» Personality:
(ooc: Veles suffers from DID due to extreme trauma in his past, which broke shortly after he reached maturity. “Swagger” is his alternate identity, which will occasionally appear but he is not the host, nor normalcy for making appearances when posting with Veles.)
Veles. There is nothing sweeter to the male than the sight of blood falling onto the ground. Laced with a husky voice, and a tongue that curves the words of all expectant to let it fall upon their ears, the male is welcomed into most situations with blatant disbelief that the male could be distrustful. Trickery rushes through his blood, although not always is it intentional. Out of control, poisoned in the mind due to trauma, the male has a fractured soul that both runs hot and cold. There is little to do to control this inconsistency, and the male has long suffered from near blackouts.
There is the beast within that he was always meant to be. What happened in his past has shaped him to this beast and he hardly sees why he should make himself fall to the graces of kindness and pleasantries. Sharp words are often growled if he finds too much joy in another. He breathes and survives under the ruling of an alpha; he is loyal only to the extent it serves him, however. Temptation always consumed him in any situation. The brutality in which the male merrily conducts is done in glee and laughter, insanity always knocking at the front door. Although not a coward, the male will avoid the fight at any cost, preferring any victim he may welcome into his realm to be weaker than him.
Veles very rarely will show compassion, although even in this state does his sweetened tongue soften for a female. For how little he agrees they are worth, to kill them with kindness seems more easy to the trickster. To have them trust, to adore him, to view him as their way out when they are only being promised to be dragged in deeper to the heart of the pack is what entertains him. An endless game, for within this piece of puzzle he finally discovers use for what he suspects is more than just mere blackouts.
Within the mind lays the other side in the production of his blackouts. Joyous, basking in the youth that was, the merry grin softens and pushes away the evil edge. Although well understood he must hide himself, must never show the weakness that is his heart, the male bonds quietly in the warmth of the company of all. His bright laughter often shall rumble in his chest, his joy for life becomes infectious. This is when he is Swagger - he is all that is free, all that could be pure. All that had been before blood had taken over. Where worth and love is still an option, where harm should never befall another wolf. Not often does this beast appear, but when he does it is with hope and curiosity. A weak fight though, easily overpowered within his mind to be returned to the host. Swagger retains the cruel abilities that sizzle as his nail tips, though they are not used. The male enjoys life, tries to soften the blow of dictatorship without being caught, all while he awaits Veles to return, when he is forced to slink back into the world where he no longer does exist.
» Appearance:
Equipped with dull, dark orange-brown wolf eyes, the male can see the world at his black claws and make do with it what he will. With a snow white ears, the left one is bent due to an accident, therefore never stands fully erect, instead looking almost partially floppy.
Over three feet at the shoulder, the tall tundra body suits the male well, graced with long legs to carry him through even the deepest of snowfalls. He is quite the beast, broad in the chest and well formed to handle the larger prey he might come across. The male looks proud in a thick pelt that causes him quite a bit of problem in the particularly hot summers, though promises him to stay warm in the colder months. Though his dominant color it the pale creams and hints of golden dirt from the tundra heritage he was borne to, there is also silvers and russets that run through his fur (the russets very light, being often brought out with the proper sun reflection) being particularly noticeable showing along his back and tail.
With primarily coarse fur, the male looked rough at best. There is never an appropriate time that would make him look “well-groomed”, instead he often looks like he just finished throwing himself around in the dirt. So far, he had made it throughout life without much scarring, although his ear is the exception to his well health. Head always held high, voice rough (with a bit of a Russian twist in his tones) and demanding on the ears, the male comes across as quite the intimidation when sharp teeth are revealed, proving that his bark may just be as bad as his bite. Veles’ expressions often range from unemotional, unmoved to bright and childish, depending on what the situation calls for and what state of mind he is in.
» History: (Brief, without the juicy parts. =P)
Have you ever seen a wolf die, my son? Words echoed gently as the beast stood there high on the rocks above the little wolf who lingered. From the onset of leaving his mother’s cave, war hot and heavy in the open tundra, the little wolf was hardly equipped with the knowledge to know of any such thing. Food was dead, but food was not wolf; wolf was what he was - where is soul found home. Yet his father’s war cry of delight, blood everywhere as flesh was torn from others proved too much. Life in the time of this war, on the battle grounds as the enemy closed it was enough to doom any pup to a terrible childhood. There was no time to be trained, there was no time to run back and hide; it was to call on an innate nature while the nurtured heart cried out in protest. Death! Death did not belong here.
.+. Black Swallow Peak (Birth Pack)
Birth until 10 months.
He’s dead now, boy. Look at you. Puny. The leader whispered, Veles eyes staring as the mangled corpse on the ground. The light in orange eyes gone - the only other face of an adult he had known in his beginning, gone. Brothers, gone. The young male spun around, outrage, pain in his heart as he threw himself at the whispering brute who had torn his father’s throat out. The young warrior screamed like a banshee, blackness, the snapping of his ear as the leader suppressed the need for revenge. No! Death did not belong here.
.+. Redwood (Slave)
10 months until 2 years.
Little warrior. Slick, warm words breathed in Veles' ears. I would very much like to keep you. The alpha couple, the self-proclaimed "God" and "Goddess" most certainly had. Making the large brute into a pet, strangled childish cries eventually dying away. Slick, demeaning acts performed as he was confined. No escape. But the insanity called, the mute words rarely ever gracing the air. Death belonged here.
.+. Alone (Wanderer)
10 months until 2 years.
Long live the King and Queen. Freedom snapped at his hindquarters, something he could never understand. Confused. Alone. But running, running so far. Heart shriveled, darkened. There was no need for him to believe the world could be any different. This time, he would never bow down. There would be no mercy, no more weakness. Veles is death.
.+. Vahva (Member)
Present
