Post by Momo on Jan 11, 2011 23:19:08 GMT -5
Name: Zealot Aescus Shire.
Nickname(s): Although he doesn't go by many aliases or nicknames, once he gives the "go ahead" for one to be used, they are commonly either "Zei" or the more respectable yet oddly-friendly and inaccurate calling; "old man".
Age: Four.
Gender: Male.
Pack: Valkyr.
Rank: Sentinel.
Appearance:
The one thing one would notice about Zealot is his bland, subtle tones and features about his body. One could suppose his tones are befitting for a subtle gentleman as Zealot both resembles and sounds to be. The base coat of his own is the sort of a timber feel; pale dusty grays branded slightly and laced about through his coarse, timber-dedicated pelt. The majority of his simple-based pelt is a darker mocha brown, bristling finely with the end of the wild and slightly-long strands dealt with a tipped milky white. It gives a sharper opacity to his pelt; appearing as if sharply gleaming with a divine streak of magnificence. His pelt is laced with finer strikes and streams of milky white, mainly down his chest and spine, as well as his neck. His secondary coat is much thicker and denser than the scruffy, sharp tones of his darker golden brown that better is explained in texture as the sharp, freshly-cut goatee of a man's lower chin. On his chest, the secondary pelt begins from the crease of his breast muscles, spreading out in a much plusher, feathery feel like curdled milk. It appears from afar like a single object, joined together without a singly crease, stretching across his tall chest and trickling down between his forelegs to his belly. From there it breaks full out, wildly flicking about like white fire, huddling together thickly with each hearty lock as it drifts from the warmth of his body in terms of fly-away locks. Where his chest ends, so does the white feathery pelt, trickling into the rough, sharp timber pelt that he originally owns up to. For a good way, this continues until another, more calculated wave of milky white takes over. It is less a marking and more of a pelt growth in which takes over about his neck like a fluffy, feathery collar. The pelt becomes heartier and fluffier in these patched areas due to some sort of uneven growth as it is suspected, and this particular area is roughly to be see as some sort of "fancy collar". It crawls 'round to the nape of his neck, streaking down onto the beginning of his spine before dripping into small, perfectly round and well-spaced freckles. They are all well placed and spaced between eachother, growing one after eachother in the same texture, growth and color as the white that belongs to his chest and neck.
For his spine, a cream, airbrushed golden-brown milk subtly streaks and lines down his spine to the thinning bind of his long tail. The sharp, visible bones of his body such as his ankles, wrists and so forth are subtly highlighting with furry bands or mere marks of milky white, making him appear as though a gentleman who finds wearing gloves to be a constant in-style. His eyes are outlined with a subtle milky white that streaks like very short tears from the inside corner of his eyes, highlighting the darker sage green that subtly strikes against his handsome pelt. The muscles of his round, oval "eyebrows" can be seen slightly, stricken down the inner curves with a single stroke of white for each "brow". His chin is tipped with a rougher sort of pelt than the rest, making it seem like spikes drawing from the head of a cave. The sharp, coarse fur here is tipped with a rusty cream.
PHYSICAL ASPECT ;; Zealot is built with a sort of lanky configuration; he isn't one to bear many visible muscles, and his well-sculpted bones can easily be seen piercing out in sharp edges and casting shadows throughout his varied pelt. He is built rather tall, give him a size higher than some at least, allowing him that subtle domineering disposition of a gentleman; head held straightforward if not titled upward, straight on his digits like a royal canine being inspected, long tail brushing the earth as his eyes scathe the skies. He is born to agility and flexibility mainly, his bones flexible and large with the ability to slam injured bodies to the earth upon the binding of his weight and muscle. With his highly unpredictable way of thought as well as his bound experience, Zealot is clearly one that a soul would not wish to engage for too long at a time.
VOICE ;; His voice very easily matches that of a gentleman's; one of a slightly older origin. He would sound more as such a man who you would find with a dragon cane in hand, stopwatch in the other, and that half-lidded look in his eye as he literally stares down at those before him whilst his stopwatch ticks away the time. The sort that would have horse polo as the most hectic sport an action they delved in, although such a perception only stops upon Zealot's voice and look. His voice is a slightly lower, more soothing and yet scruffy tone that stands out, although it holds a slightly foreign tone in the back of his throat to give it more of an old world charm.
Picture: N/A
Personality: Zealot is to be explained very simply; insane. He is a highly psychotic individual, a wild mind set on a world not of anyone else's own. It is not exactly known just how he thinks or what brings on his fits of psychotic rage. One cannot analyze him as the good old man by his first impression; that signature rise on his digits and highly sophisticated salutes and word usage. Those quirky smirks and intelligent quips that hold a certain component that demand respect despite them mostly pertaining of insults. He is highly intelligent as it becomes one of his best of his repertoire, and he very easily flaunts this through his words, natural-skill, and simply his actions or expressions. Although he is generally quite quiet and speaks for only such instances he feels are necessary like the role of the occupied righthand, he is overall a very stuck up male, and questions the intellect - and sanity - of anyone in whom he has yet to know or recognize as a being deserving of respect. It is not to say there are two Zealots; in fact even in this instance he is highly dangerous. In his more psychotic flares, he becomes a wilting beast, desiring of blood and violence, which makes him a great tool for war, although not so much one for company over two. He may simply snap at any given moment, rushing for the feel of his heart rapidly beating in repercussion to his hectic movements. He's the sort of gentleman one would meet in the park once, only to later learn of his name and his history of being the only man in whom lived on that tall, eerie mountain in that lonely, dark mansion. He is insanity, and although he is a very highly untameable beast, he would not dare to let his more wold-carded side by the ears of Pynthi. He holds a sort of respect clearly for the Alphess, and a subtle idolization and loyalty rises in his mood and disposition around her. He is simply more tame around her, merely letting by his usual quirks and witty comments about others either in their faces or behind their backs rather than breaking into demented fits of laughter and threatening on a fight to newcomers.
He may be insane, but he's not stupid.
History: Although somewhat well-situated into the pack themselves, Zealot's parents were quite distant from the pack life when it came to socializing. They had been loners once before, and had learned that they themselves were the only true souls they could trust. This soon changed Zealots mother Ainta became pregnant. The couple knew they needed the safety of a pack, and had pleaded upon Valkyr's ranks to enter for protection and warmth. they had proved themselves not to be dead weight; they hunted and participated in mandatory exercises as any loyal pack-born would do. They still had not completely felt safe in the ranks as far as trusting the others they were forced to socialize with, although it had soon came the time where their distancing was a result to their sort of "ideals" that contained the belief that they were better off staying to themselves for they were not born into the pack. Zealot's lone birth had followed into this saga, raising the alertness of his parents for the next few weeks. With those who had approached them, they clearly showed they wanted no part of it, and snapped with an unrivaled violence as if rabid-infected beasts without a soul or mind to go by. They had severely injured a few unsuspecting packmates in this snapping of their weak-moral minds that ran through their blood. This did not stand for the previous Alpha, and he immediately had them exiled. But their only pup had survived such a fate, and the rather benevolent Alpha decided to have him raised by a surrogate.
As he grew, it did not take very long to notice the insane and mad traces in the pup's mind and soul. He found pleasure in killing small things senselessly. He had become the scary little child that many thought they saw a demon over his shoulder, and yet his cute face and appearance as well as voice almost made them feel safe around him. Even from his youngest of days, he had a sort of "dark aura" about him, according to what those who fear him say. To this day, there aren't many who remember nor know of his parents' surnames or significance as being his blood, and he is rather seen as a lone missing link that had simply been in Valkyr as if to have merely appeared. Throughout his time of youth, he had grown distanced from the pack as well as his foster siblings as their fear and awkwardness turned to irritation and anger. They mobbed mentally against him, keeping him at bay in terms of socialization. For the next few years, he merely remained that odd little boy that talked to his reflection, growing further pushed and shoved away from the natural world of socializing with those of his extended family, although he was forced into certain socialization by his fostering parents such as learning and such. It was in these brief moments that many learned just how intelligent
At age three, Zealot began to force himself into the natural bustle of Valkyr, trying to find potential mates, even. As those his age had grown up as well, their hatred and annoyance towards him slightly faded into one of a simple awkwardness, although allowing him meetings and speakings from him as if normality had befallen him. Even then the worst was not over, and Zealot proved a very dangerous being; although mostly for the better. In battle as well as training, he proved once more to be a very good tool for such skill, but this had made some fear and distance only more. If he were to senselessly snapped they supposed, it may have as well been them on the other side of his skill and natural bloodlust drive. It was not long until he met a beautiful youth his age known as Luera that had stayed her ground upon his approach. She had come to know him in his younger years, and had always been more curious of the distant male rather than ridiculing of him. For a good while, they went on with a bond one would find in potential mates, up until the day she was called out to defend the borders of Valkyr alongside the others of those in whom had earned such a job. That very day, he had meant to ask Luera to allow him to take her on as a mate, but the call of duty had postponed such a wish. At this time, Zealot had severely longed to fight alonside her, but was sent to a different area despite his loud outbursts. At the end of the day, Zealot and most of the others returned on their feet, but Luera did not. It turned to be that she had died during a ply to protect her comrades rather than her own hide.
From then on, a sort of sick irony felled the Shire as he once more distanced from the pack, hardening his heart and strengthening his psychotic means to patch up the injuries of his heart. He once more became a larger version of his younger self only with a newer title; The old man who lived alone in which many swore they could see a demon over his shoulder.
He has recovered quite a way from that day's conclusion, replacing hurt with his solid charm and unpredictable emotions. He is more active around the pack these such days, hiding his long-forgotten pain and past with his insane inquiries and charming behavior.
Roleplay Example: It's actually a chapter of my book, but if you want, I can scoop up a RP sample. <3
Wooden walls held up the underground shrine hidden from all eyes. Lit up by old candlelight, a flicker of any sort of movement sent the room's shadows of light dancing and reeling in fear. Now was an instance of simple calmness; gentle flickers of the dancing flames soothing to eyes. A dark shadow suddenly jerked up and threw against the light-dressed wall, hand raising up swiftly with intent. A whip of some sort rolled out of the raised hand like the lolling tongue of a lethargic snake before slashing through the air with a passionate speed. A loud crack distorted the stillness of the smooth flames, sending the light into all directions. More whips were to be endured for the flames as they stretched and twisted; threatening to go out.
After the savage lesson was over, both the master and the servant sat on the wooden stair of the room together in better harmony; meditating. Or at least pretending to.
The yellow-haired boy only denied the wishes of his "master" by playing noncholantley with his hands. "I sense your spirit is still in the realm of the real world, my son." There he went with the "my son" stuff again. The boy only rolled his eyes without a verbal reply. "Are you still ornery because of the "bad hand" I dealt to you?" "Well that'd be a start!" The boy raised his voice lightly with pure irritation. The least the old dog could do was act upset with him instead of acting as if it never happened. It creased him even more than the punishment, itself. An old, wise sigh sounded, sending a soothing vibration to calm the room. "Come." He barked quickly out of the darkness at the top of the stairs. "Come to me, boy." He called once more as sharp, demonic claws tapped the wood beside himself in a gesture to call the boy over. The Human child only sighed and rolled his eyes once more in defiance before crawling up the stairs with a slow dragging of his pace. A slight raise of the animalistic, demonic hand was coupled over with flutters of bright ashes falling inches from the hand as if a casted spell. "You must learn control, Hayzr. He's not a toy." The slender beast forewarned as it concentrated on its massive magicks being strained into small-play to prove a point. The glow of adult flames began to birth as Hayzr watched the fireshow. Small fluttering "fairies" made of pure fire and flames drifted around Hayzr as they unintentionally warned him with their scorching auras. "It's not like I wanted him to destroy half of that bastard's body." He snapped back with childish rage. "You see? There. What did you call him? He picks up on your heartfelts', and ignores them. And does whatever your mind wants to. Your heart is gentle, pure. And yet your mind wanted to destroy that man. And so he did. Er, for the most part.." Hayzr only lowered his head slightly in defeat and shame. "Boy." His mentor quickly barked to get his attention once more.
"You have gotten this far. You're doing well."
"Then why am I always being held back and scolded?!"
"Hm hm. I'm not scolding you because you are a wielder of a great beast and you need to be taught a lesson. But rather.." A blast of pure flames curled into creation from a spew of fiery glow from the mentor's hand. The flames raged quickly yet slowly before Hayzr's face; inches away from the flames. The flames were torn between worlds of red blood and bright orange, but closer, he could notice rainbows engraved in the mighty spell of flame. A large, unlit candle was the receiver of the spell, lighting up the top of the stairs, and the warm, old face of the mentor before he continued. "I am scolding you because you are a young boy. As great a power you have, you are still a boy. Nay, a little rough perhaps. But a boy all the same." As the beast of a mentor spoke more to himself than his apprentice, Hayzr's eyes stung with the pain of held back tears. He had forgotten how much this old dog, or cat, had meant to him. He was really all he had left.
"And my love --" "Is best showed in terms of punishment." Hayzr broke him off with a dry irritation made to mask his emotional status. The old creature only smiled a long smile across his round, ivory canine face. His long, limber body showed traits of feline origin, and yet an odd, long-forgotten canine's. This was because "Alinos" was a descendant of a race long forgotten.
One in which had coexisted with my own. One that, let's just say, if it still existed, it would be hard to decide on whether Solstice would be saved from its hidden doom, or blown right out of the water. It was a race that was the only thing that kept Us at bay..
The dark-tipped claws of the old beast roughly petted the young boy's wild hair. "It's best you go on and clean up. I think we might just be expecting a little "visit" from the authority. I'll take care of them.." He groaned with good-natured strain as he rose up to his long, lanky legs. "Yes sir.." Hayzr groaned lightly in disdain before slipping halfway through a hatch in the wall hidden by the darkness. He wheeled around as his Human ears picked up a smooth, handsome chuckle slowly filling the room.
"Hm hm..! I was simply remembering what it was like when I first met the naked little fox-wielder." He smirked to himself, sparking an interested awe in the young boy. He slipped next to his master swiftly before looking up at him with the begging eyes of a child. "You see, you were harmless, yes. Cute as a button. But your little friend, well he, was not. Even though he was a little fireball smaller than any of my weaker spells, the beast sure could bite!" Hayzr's eyes drifted lower in a sort of distress during the last words of his master's.
"What ails you, my boy?"
"I just.. Wonder why.. Why is he inside me? Why did IT choose me..?" Alinos only let his long, wide hand cover the boy's entire head with gentle comfort; long fingers drifting even with his eyelevel.
"You are meant for great things. Tame this beast within you. I must go, now. They'll be here any minute. Stay here, they cannot get a better look at you. The Master will certainly order for your head. A boy as powerful as you may thwart his plots." Hayzr only stared up at his mentor now, face blank without expression. Alinos looked down at the Human with a fluid smile.
"I will be fine on my own."
"I know. But Alinos?"
"Hm?"
"When will I be able to travel to the outside world..?"
"They want your head out there, boy. They know not of your birth. Or of your power. Your only safe haven if underground; here, where they cannot find you. I'm afraid you cannot leave, as long as The Master is alive and "king". Nor can I.." Hayzr's heart dropped slightly. It wasn't like he had not known the reason of his "grounding", but the more tastes of outside life that he had, the more he had realized just how much of a world was out there. To him, the capital was a large, flowing place that a boy, or anyone, could get lost in the treasures. He had known of the Sixth's law of staying inside, and that sparked even more longing inside him.
Just what else lay out from the capital's walls? Was there more a world to see?
But Hayzr was treated like a gem to all Alinos had let known of him; he had to be hidden all his life, ever since Alinos found the power of the beast inside him to be of the extreme. He had dwelled in an underground land forged by years of Alinos' architectural practices. He was trained to adapt with senses not of Humans' common use; agility, hearing, heart, silence, and instinct. He was trained to understand the world of spells, life energy, and evading sight as well as not relying on his own. He was swiftly snuck back underground after a night of brief excersize when the capital was asleep. And he was scolded when going out at anyother time.
It was as if he was trained for nothing. Or was this the case?
"Does he really rule everything?" Hayzr drifted back into Solstice with the question.
"Everything in The Graceful Way galaxy, yes. Even space belongs to him." Alinos left him to wrap his heart and imagination around it as strode across the darkened area of the room. A small shaft lay in the center of the wall with an inner curve driving upward like a slide. The tall, ivory creature set his long claws in first before dragging the rest of his body in with surprising ease. Soon enough, only the smoldered, black tip of his tail was visible before being sucked up in the dark shaft with the rest of the body. Hayzr only looked at the wall in front of him, reading over a language he could never understand. A huge portion of the wall was made of stone rather than wood, and was pulled back to the right to bare inscriptions as well as ancient art of random places Hyazr had never seen or heard of, before. They resembled hieroglyphs; paved and painted over with gold sealants that lit up like pure gold in the fire's glow. There was a small indentation shaped like a diamond in a square portion of the stone that drew out of the rest of the stone. Hayzr put his small, Human hand on the square rock before letting his eyes gaze up at the rest of the painted stone. It was something Alinos cherished often, among other areas in which harbored the same sort of tiling and "words".
Words that, to put simply; my kind speak.
Your name: "Momo" will be fine, loves.
How did you find us?: Not only did I see the ad posted on the site I'm staff on, but I pretty much followed Lexx and Kenny here. I'm the faithful sheep.*baaaa*<33
Other characters: Zealot's my first charry. :3
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