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Thread: Swallowed By The Moon OOC [M]

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    Default Swallowed By The Moon OOC [M]

    SWALLOWED BY THE MOON

    This story is rated Mature for: violence, language, body horror, adult themes.

    Something about you has always been different. You can feel it in your bones, you can feel it in your marrow, and in something even deeper. A call that transcends hearing, a sign that defies sight. Perhaps you know what this means, or perhaps you simply think it a discomfort in your own skin. A discontentment with what and who you are. Perhaps you tried to bury it under work, stuff it down with food, drown it with drink...


    But you cannot run from your birthright. You cannot deny our Mothers' cries.


    One day, as you went about you daily attempt as living with the Herd, the feeling of unease that has been steadily growing in your core simply cannot be ignored. Your skin grows feverish and sensitive to the touch, your heart begins to race, and the low roar of your own blood in your ears grows to a deafening growl. "What is happening?", you might ask. "Why is it happening to me? Dear God, make it stop!"


    That's when you hear it, a voice from within your ephemeral self that you might call your subconscious at first, but it is not your voice that speaks. It is the voice of a mother and a father, a sister and a brother, the whisper of the wind through the trees and the calls of all the beasts in nature.


    Not all who wander are lost, young one. Not so long as they hear our Mothers. Life among the Herd – among the mundane mortals – is not meant for you. I can feel your anger and fear, though you might deny it or not know its source. Our Mothers, our World, die a little each day. They are poisoned by corruption of body and spirit. Mother-Earth scarred by the sins waged upon her flesh, Mother-Moon trembles alone in the void of stars. The maw of Oblivion looms over our kind, our very reality, and you are among the Chosen who keep it at bay.


    Will you be lost in blissful ignorance? Will you remain prey for that which hungers for our World?


    Or will you answer the Call?

    But, the most important question of all, my dearest Child...


    When will you RAGE?



    “There is a pleasure in the pathless woods. There is a rapture on the lonely shore. There is a society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar. I love not man the less, but nature more.”

    __________________________________________________

    Swallowed By the Moon is a story of survival and savagery, rage and retribution. Frenzy and Family. As bleak and hostile as the world is to you and your kind, there is still beauty. There exists hope, but as a fickle, flickering candlelight in the darkness.

    You are a member of an endangered species who loses more of your number and land to other factions and powers, both magical and mundane, every single day. It is a slow death, the meandering spiral of extinction that you push back against. But there is more. There is a compact among your kind to safeguard this world from not only itself, but the utterly unnatural things beyond.

    Outsiders, beings of unfathomable malice, quantum carrion-eaters drawn by the festering wounds upon the Mother, wriggling into our reality like parasites.

    You are few, your enemies legion, but the strength of the Wolf is the Pack!


    _______________IN THE BEGINNING...______________

    "Gather 'round, cubs. There is a tale that old Eyes-of-the-Sun must tell you, the story of our Kind, the oldest and most important story you will ever hear..."



    Before there was primordial form, before there was Wolf or Man, all existence occupied a single plane. All were as flesh and spirit, and the greatest among them were the Celestines; Lord Helios, Lady Lune, Lady Agartha, and their court of stars and spirits, great and small. Youngest and most beautiful among them were Lune and Agarta, destined for great things, for terrible things. Lune could never stray far from her celestial sister, and when the first great beauty of nature appeared, Lune wept with joy and envy, for she could have no sapphire seas, no emerald forests, nor beasts to keep her company.

    Still, she as happy for Sister Agartha, basking her with the glow of her smile.

    Drawn by that glow, hitherto came Father Wolf, a primordial and primal spirit from the depths of the Wyldes - the untamed Spirit Domain. He was beautiful and graceful as he as dangerous and ferocious. While Lady Agartha slumbered, it was Lady Lune who say him first, and was smitten. Father Wolf was hungry and alone, and weary from his travels, so Lady Lune took pity on him. Taking the form of a kindred creature of purest silver starlight, Lune guided Father Wolf to the fertile lands beneath the boughs of one of the World Trees.

    The sky was dark for that night, as the Moon found something new. She found love.

    When Lord Helios awoke in the morning, he was furious! Wherefore had Lady Lune gone?! Fearing the blazing temper of Lord Helios, Lady Lune left Father Wolf as he slumbered with a final kiss upon his brow. Lady Agartha, whom had awoken with Lord Helios' fearsome blunder, bid her sister hide behind her until night fell, and Helios fell asleep once more. It was in this time that Lady Agartha, tending her Sacred Glens, found Father Wolf sleeping beneath the boughs of her World-Oaks, and she too was smitten.

    As the cycles passed, Lune and Agartha grew gravid with evidence of their liaison, bearing the brunt of Lord Helios' wrath, and fostering resentment for each other. Each gave birth to three beings of great power, but Lady Lune, being closer to Lord Helios, was forbidden to return to her celestial sister, denied the chance to show her children to their Father. Denied the chance to even raise them, for she could not foster life like her sister could. So, from afar, she had no choice but to watch as Agartha and Father Wolf frolicked in their glen with their young, and in jealousy and shame, Lune turned away from them.

    There was a time when Lady Lune's own children never knew her face, for the pain of distance was too great to bear. In seeing her loved ones so close, but unable to touch them or speak to them, it filled Lady Lune with such unbridled Rage that even the unblinking stars trembled.

    Father Wolf felt this Rage as it stormed through the air. He had silently wondered where the beautiful she-wolf had gone, and in the absence of the Moon, he knew. So he gathered his children, those sired with Lady Lune and Lady Agartha, and their Children's-Children, and scaled the highest mountain. Atop its crest, Father Wolf lead them in a Song for their Celestial Mother. The First Howl, and how haunting and beautiful it was.

    Lady Lune heard such a mournful chorus and could not keep herself away, and so she turned her face back to her sister and her beloveds, and she smiled down on them with a Mother's Love.

    You can see her now, though, with every rotation, turning to cast her gaze once again upon us - her Children and her sister's Children - to ensure we are well, and to bask our burning spirits in her radiance.

    Forget not that we are all Children of Father Wolf, but we are also children of Mother Moon and Mother Earth. It is through them that we are connected to the Spiritual and Material, and as our Father did before us, we are sworn to protect our Mothers both, from this day to the end of days.​


    _______________THE ETERNAL WAR______________

    "Revel in red, come and wake up to bring no remorse!"



    While our War is eternal, we have suffered more losses in the last century than we have in the whole millennium before it.

    The Great Wars. Wars of Man against Man, fueled by rapacious industry and the hubris of mortality, has laid us low. Of the nine Sacred World-Oaks, only three remain. Where we once held court with our fellow Thera and the other supernatural denizens of our world, we are now a disjointed and endangered species on the cusp of eradication. Our holy sites and places of power, our ancestral homes, have all but been destroyed.

    Such is the folly of Man, the traitorous Little Brother we are sworn to protect. Such is the fetid fruit of gas, fire, blood, greed, and the terrible power of the Atom.

    Of those who can take Shape and fight, we number less than Ten-Thousand the world around. We are dying, gazing down the yawning maw of extinction... but if we do not fight, if we do not keep the Long Vigil, then all of Reality might buckle. No matter the fire nor the flames, we must endure for the sake of our children, and our children's-children, and all those who come after us.

    We are the vanguards and the sentinels of life and the natural law, and we water the roots of the World-Trees with the blood of the treacherous.

    Our Mothers are dying. Reality heaves, and our kind faces eradication. Like draws to like, as the deep wounds upon our Mother Earth fester, luring the cosmic carrion-eaters from the Outside like flies to rot. Beings beyond mortal comprehension, creatures of nightmare and madness, corruption and consumption. Monsters of Mythos that burrow through the breaches in our reality like blood worms to sink barbs of poisonous malice into the hearts and minds of all.

    We fight Vampires and Hunters, we slay our traitorous kin, and we shirk at Mages and wearily deal with the Fae and the Spirits...

    But the Outside Forces are our True Adversary, for they are beings that have never known our world, and simply wish to corrupt, defile, and consume.

    Ever since the Outer Gates began to crack after World War I, such unearthly forces have been more frequent. Where there may be a handful in a century, there is a handful every year, and they are getting stronger...

    And yet, so many of our kind have forgotten and lost their way...

    This was our Father's War, is Long Vigil, and we carry it now as he once did. We watch the Gates, the breach points between the planes of existence, we mind the fraying fabric that keeps these planes apart, ever stalwart against incursion from the Outside, from the Fae Realms, and the innumerable planes beyond. We were the first inhabitants of this world. We are Agartha and Lune's First-Born, and we will not go quietly into the maw of Oblivion.


    _______________OF WOLF AND MAN______________

    "Thrice we are born, thrice we are sworn."



    We are born, not bitten. If we could make more of our number through a bite, we would not be facing extinction. We are a people, a breed. Werewolves are not parasites like the Strigoi.

    Of our progenitors, we have garnered Gifts and Curses. Boons and Banes. When Father Wolf grew weary and weak in his old age, so did we take up is vigil. For while he coveted the natural splendor and the miraculous works of nature, Father Wolf knew that his time was done. There were others rising to be Mother Earth's children, but they were greedy and hungry, taking more than Mother Earth could give. So it was the parting Gift of Father Wolf to his brood to give unto his Children three Shapes. Three Forms to protect Mothers, Brothers, and Sisters.

    Spoiler: The Forms 

    Spoiler: The First Change 

    Spoiler: Those of the Blood 

    Spoiler: Gifts and Curses 



    __________________THE PACK_________________


    "In the dark of the night we are demons in silence. In the light of the moon we are the storm of the damned. In the heat of the wild we are the blood-red horizon..."




    As individuals, Werewolves are an extremely independent, passionate, and typically hard-headed bunch. They typically don't know when to quit or back down, and will keep pushing forward, always. As an individual, a Werewolf is as varied as any person would be. Factors of upbringing, belief, life-path, and a swathe of other factors will have a heavy hand in a Werewolf's behavior and character. There is no single tribal or cultural catch-all, because before they took on the Warrior-Skin, they were also people.

    Humans and wolves are both social creatures, something that is elevated as a werewolf. Among humans and wolves, you will be hard-pressed to find those who won't shirk away from you on instinct, as their subconscious brain senses the apex predator in their midst. Because of that aspect of the Curse, Werewolves tend to be insular. You can only love and respect someone as dangerous as you are, you can only get to know people as dangerous as yourself.

    There is love, trust, passion, and understanding in that mutual danger. That shared lethality and primal urge. Alone, a werewolf becomes a danger to the whole as much as to themselves. They risk exposing not only the werewolf population to the world at large, but the entirety of the supernatural world hidden by the Veil.

    Pack is family. Pack is home. Pack is where you are accepted, no questions.

    Alone, the Rage and the Fury gnaws away at inhibition as the Beast grows louder and harder to control. Alone, the mind-flaying effects of our Adversaries cannot be mended.

    When werewolves form a Pack, they connect on a spiritual level, whether or not they choose to have a totem spirit, they are bound by a deep understanding that transcends speech. Packs often become as large families, and support (and fight) each other as such. This communal connection is a bulwark against the consumptive, corrupting powers of the entropic Outsiders or malicious spirits. Where a lone werewolf may be a dangerous quarry for hunters, to go after a Pack of werewolves without proper planning and preparation is suicide.

    There is no real standard for a Pack's size or structure. Packs in larger swathes of land might have more members than an Urban Pack, or an Urban Pack and their families might rent out a tenement building in Chicago. There is, however, tradition of hierarchy within a Pack. Not all follow the Old Way in this modern age.

    Spoiler: Hierarchy 


    As one might expect, a Territory is the land a Pack occupies. Now, not every Pack has a Territory, or even needs one. There is a growing culture of these "Ronin Packs" who wander as biker gangs, Romani caravans, and other mobile lifestyles. They go where the fight is, living off the lands they travel.

    More commonly, a Pack will eke out a Territory to call their own, and protect it fiercely. It could be a city block or a thousand acres of wilderness. Within a Territory, the Pack and their extended family will live as best they can from day to day. Those who follow the Long Vigil will ensure that their Territory remains free of corrupted spirits, Outsiders, and whatever else they might consider a threat in their region.

    It is rare for werewolves to get along despite their unified faith and function. They tend to think their way is the best way, that their Territory is sacred and that it is theirs. On certain rare circumstances, Packs will come together in the spirit of mutual hunting grounds, shared territory, and strength in numbers. Two Packs agreeing to not murder each other for trespassing does not a Dominion make, however.

    There is an old werewolf proverb for a reason: "Get three Alphas from three different Packs in the same room and there won't be clean breeches for miles."


    It will fall to you, the Players, to define your Pack's identity for this Story. Your Pack is your reputation, your social circle, your family blood and bond of arms. The Pack is as much a character as any Werewolf in it.

    Spoiler: Rules 


    Spoiler: CS Template 

    Spoiler: The Pack Roster 

    Spoiler: GMCharacters/NPCs 

    Spoiler: The Saga 
    Last edited by StormWolf; 08-27-2020 at 12:35 AM.




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    You have piqued my interest.

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    I am taking a spot for Jason Urbain

    "Even Dreams, can be a nightmare"
    Spoiler: Click it, I dare ya! 




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    This looks interesting.
    Be wary of paramilitaries. When the men with guns who have always claimed to be against the system start wearing uniforms and marching around with torches and pictures of a Leader, the end is nigh. When the pro-leader paramilitary and the official police and military intermingle, the end has come.

    —Timothy Snyder, On Tyranny
    <img src=https://i.imgur.com/IDb3QBD.gif border=0 alt= />
    Spoiler: Quotes/Awesome picture~ 

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    Happy to have y'all's interest

    Minor changes made to the OP, character added to the NPC tab.




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    "Sacred & Wild"

    Name: Igor of the Winters' Tale

    Nickname/Deed-Name: Iron-Bear

    Age: 30

    Breed: True-Born

    Gender: Male

    — APPEARANCE

    Spoiler: Human Form 



    Spoiler: Wolf Form 



    Spoiler: Warrior Form 


    Personal Possessions: A bottle of the finest Vodka every made and a yo-yo made from the bones of an ancient mammoth.

    — PERSONALITY

    Personality: Slow and steady as the winters of Mother Russia. Igor's pack is one the more traditional packs still left protecting the Sacred World-Oaks. They live in seclusion and call themselves the "Nastoyashchiye Volki" or the True Wolves. While their neighbors fled from the embrace of Father Winter they stayed true to the old ways. Standing vigilant as the Father himself.

    Igor is a reflection of this mindset. You do not rush the Winter, if you do it will take you and never release you. Patience if more than a virtue it is a survival mechanism, but patience among the Volki will never be mistaken for idleness. Always moving, always improving, even when the night is long and the fires low Igor will be working to improve himself and remove the modern mindsets of idleness even if it simply looks like he is staring dimly into nothingness.

    Powers, Traits, and Abilities:

    The Gifts listed are applicable to all Werewolves, unless they have an additional Flaw that lessens one of those Gifts.

    He who shatters glaciers- While some of his kin dedicate themselves to the precision and symmetry of learning martial arts Igor has always found the...direct method serves him best. He needs not the flashy punches and kicks of karate or the submission holds of judo when one hit from him can snap a normal bear's spine in half and he can shatter stone with a hug.

    Be one with the Winter- While most effective in arctic conditions, if Igor can manage to remain perfectly still he can nearly blind in with his surroundings, he'll be easily seen if someone looks at him. But if they are simply glancing by or busy talking with someone he can be right there and no one would be any the wiser.

    Dark Tundra- An ability similar to Be one with Winter, but focuses on his willpower and ability to overcome trauma both mental and physical. Quite simply he stills his mind and just...shuts it off. From the outside it looks like a brainless brute's eyes glazing over and everything being said to him goes in one ear and out the other.

    The Way of the Glacier- A body at rest will remain at rest, and a body in motion will remain in motion unless it is acted upon by an external force. Igor is a large and powerful man his power takes time to spin up, but once he starts running or swinging his fists very few things can withstand the blows or stop him.

    Fears, Flaws, and Vices:

    Every Werewolf has the Curses listed along with the Gifts.

    Primitive- The Werewolf equivalent of a Neanderthal, while not demented or mentally challenged Igor is far from educated. He speaks fluent albeit slow Russian and broken English at best and he knows nothing of books or the written word.

    Lost in the Snow- While the philosophy of the Nastoyashchiye Volki has steered the Pack through countless wars and natural disasters. Outside of their Territory it has proven a great annoyance and sometimes a disastrous liability. Clan members have been blown up by landmines or fallen off cliffs when lost in thought.

    The rage of the sun- Igor has spent nearly his entire life in the frozen wastes of Siberia. The snow and cold are as warm and welcoming to him as his mother's embrace. But the closer he gets to the Equator the more miserable and slower he becomes even his mostly hairless Human Form.

    Power over speed- Be it in combat or when hunting Igor has never been fast. He's more likely to take a speeding truck to his chest and smash it to pieces than step off the road. This means someone will likely need to be near him to pull him out of the path of a speeding silver bullet.

    Mate(s): His Pack believes it is the duty of all able to breed, to try, and grow the numbers of their dying people. Monogamy is rare and reserved for the Alphas and Elders.

    Cubs: Many and while he does spend personal time with them the raising of Cubs is largely a Pack duty.



    Bonds:

    Jason and Igor are long lost half-brothers.

    Ilse and Igor were treasure hunters for a little bit before Ilse moved to America.

    — HISTORY

    Spoiler: Backstory 


    Anchors: Igor has a whole pack of Anchors, losing any one of them would sufficiently hurt and enrage him. But his first born cub, Sergi and his first mate Anastasia had always held a special place in his heart.
    Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 09-02-2020 at 03:15 AM.


    Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
    Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.



    Spoiler: The stories I've written x50 



  7. #7
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    Name: Ilse Weber

    Nickname/Deed-Name: Phantom

    Age: 38

    Breed: True-Born

    Gender: Female

    — APPEARANCE

    Human Form
    Tall and thin, Ilsa still cuts an imposing figure. Standing at 1.8 meters tall and weighing barely more than 65 kilos, she is lanky, with long arms and legs. Her skin is deep brown, while her hair is ghostly pale. She keeps her hair in a tight bun to keep it out of the way. Her eyes are almond-shaped dark green with a brown ring around the pupil. She wears round glasses that never seem to slip. Her clothes are practical and mainly natural, earthen colors. She also carries a brown bag, the single strap going diagonally across her torso. You might see a small flash of gold around her neck; this is her locket. While thin, she is also leanly muscled.

    She carries herself with an air of importance, walking places swiftly and with purpose. Her moves are calculated and precise. She walks with an icy grace. Some claim she secretly floats a half-inch above the ground for the way she never stumbles or trips. She doesn't deny these claims.

    Wolf Form
    Her thin body seems to translate over into her wolf form. Although she takes the form of an astonishingly tall Eurasian wolf, she looks like she'd be more at home with North American wolves. Her fur is tawny brown, with a cream chest and neck. Dark brown markings stripe across her snout and tip her ears. Reddish-brown fur covers her shoulders before it melds into another dark brown stripe down her back. Her paws are the same ghostly white as her human form's hair.

    Warrior Form
    As thin as her human and wolf forms are, she still is a massive and dangerous creature in warrior form. More than 10 feet tall and nearly 4 feet wide, she is larger than one would expect looking at her human form. Not only large, she is terrifyingly fast. Her fur is more of the same ghostly white, making her seem transparent or blurred at the edges. Couple this with her unearthly howl, her penchant for summoning an icy mist, and her speed, she is called Phantom for a reason.

    Personal Possessions: A bone knife carved from a mammoth tusk, passed down through her pack for generations. A locket with a picture of her and her mate from more than a decade ago.
    — PERSONALITY

    Personality: Bookish and shrewd, not much escapes her notice. She is intelligent and well-versed in a truly stunning variety of subjects, able to keep pace with some of the top human minds on some subjects. She also has plenty of worldly experience and has a multitude of skills at her disposal. Her intelligence is a point of pride for her, and sometimes enjoys flaunting it to people she deems incurable simpletons. She is also ruthless and to the point. She doesn't enjoy dawdling and will ignore or push past those bothering her. Laws and rules are more like suggestions when she sets her mind on something, usually a goal or piece of information. She is serious and subscribes to the Big Stick ideology. Polite and respectful to most, but should you find yourself on her bad side, she takes no prisoners.

    Underneath her ruthless, intelligent shell, she is a woman harboring dark grief. Her husband dead, the remnants of her last Pack scattered like leaves in the wind, and her son on another continent, she mourns her loss, never allowing herself to heal from this wound. She feels responsible for her mate's death and pursues the idea of summoning his spirit permanently.

    Powers, Traits, and Abilities:

    -Keen Mind- Her mind is filled to the brim with useful skills and knowledge. She is fluent in eight languages: German, English, Swedish, Russian, Arabic, French, Mandarin Chinese, and American Sign Language. Additionally, she is highly skilled in navigation, survival, deception, persuasion, code breaking and encrypting, tracking, and forgery.

    -Martial Artist- Her easy grace and disciplined demeanor aren't for nothing. She has spent years training her human body in multiple forms of martial arts and dexterity-based physical feats. She is skilled in Krav Maga, Capoiera, Bokator, fencing, parkour, and swimming. She is quick, sending multiple light attacks in a short amount of time before returning to a defensive position.

    -Mothers' Magic- Although she has a multitude of physical and intellectual skills, her most powerful is her connection to magic. Stunning speed and rending claws mean nothing to the woman who can bring forth walls of flame or create icy mists.

    Fears, Flaws, and Vices:

    -Arrogantly Intelligent- She is the smartest person in the room. This is an objective fact. So she generally ignores suggestions from people she doesn't consider intelligent. If there's a simple solution staring her in the face, she finds a way to make it complicated. She will never admit to being wrong, instead she was "misinformed".

    -Energy Sapped- The occult is a dangerous, difficult process that comes with a cost. That cost is her energy. The more she uses magic, the more energy is drained from her body until she can recover. The larger the effect she creates, the higher the energy cost. It is rare to see her at full energy. Expending too much energy can injure her permanently, or even kill her. It is not a pretty sight to see, the color draining from her body until she is entirely ghostly-white and transparent at the edges. She becomes gaunt, barely more than a frozen mummy.

    -Quick, but not for Long- Although she is highly skilled and quick as a whip, she has barely more stamina than the average human. If an opponent can wear her down while withstanding her attacks and keeping her in range, she eventually tires and gets sloppy with her defense.

    Mate(s): Karl Weber (deceased)

    Cubs: Stefan Weber

    Bonds:

    Igor: Igor helped Ilse locate certain items of the occult before she moved to America. She tolerates his slow Russian, but his English is infuriating.

    — HISTORY

    Spoiler: Backstory 


    Anchors: Stefan Weber, her son. Her son is her only child and she wants nothing more than for him to be safe. Should anything happen to her son, her last connection to Karl, she would fly into a rage quite like the time her hair was turned white.

    Luc Zimmerman, her brother. They rarely speak, but both have a connection to the other. Her brother was the person she relied on most after her husband died. He supported her as she got back on her feet.
    Last edited by Yggdrasil_Hugger; 09-02-2020 at 04:03 PM.
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  8. #8
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    Sacred & Wild


    Spoiler: Sage Willows 
    Last edited by bluemoon; 09-02-2020 at 02:32 AM.

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    "Sacred and Wild"

    Name: Jason Urbain


    Nick-name: Straggler, Vagabond

    Age: 26

    Breed: True-blood

    Gender: Male

    Appearance:

    Spoiler: Human 




    Spoiler: Wolf 




    Spoiler: Warrior 


    Personal items:
    Jason has learned not to hold onto much for sentiment, but there are a few items that he keeps close to his heart. The first being the van that he lives out of, his first ever car he had bought.

    The biggest thing he keeps is an ivory pendant with the carving of Yggdrasil on the front, with the Russian lettering on the back for NV. His mother told him it was a important name to his father, but all she could fully understand for the meaning was something to do with wolves.


    Personality: Jason is a paranoid and mistrusting man, twitchy and always feeling the need to move. He tries to fit in normally with others, but there is always a feeling back in his mind that people were not happy around him. He always has a part in his mind that people are always out for him, most calling him a monster to harm others.


    In truth though, Jason is always looking for a place to call a home, and is willing to give new places a try. Despite the feeling of unease, Jason gives places and people the benefit of the doubt, waiting and watching for whether a place or person will be worth his time and effort. He doesn't hate people in earnest, and he does try and make friends, but he always feel that people are scared around him.

    Skills:
    Desperations disciple: Having grown on the streets as an outcast to all, Jason has had to learn to fight on his own. He fights without honor or discipline, striking for quick fights and knocking his opponent down. His bizarre and uncouth fighting style makes him rather hard to fight again.

    Beaten and bruised: His years on the streets and abusing substances to help with the voices has both hardened and numbed his body. He can handle damage beyond what most can. He has a huge pain threshold that impress several people.

    I see them all: Both paranoia, mental health, and years on the street has trained him to be aware of EVERYTHING. He has been trained to be aware and remember everything that happened nearby. You never know what might save your life.

    Skills:
    Dirty boxer: Though he has trained himself, Jason has no formal training to fight. He might be able to survive a scrap or brawl, but any trained fighter would have an easy time with him.

    Brittle bones: Though he is resilient to pain, that doesn't mean he is immune to all. He is more susceptible to broken or fractured bones. He doesn't know when to quit either, making some wounds even worse as he tends to forget and not get them treated.

    The shadows speaks: Paranoia has caused him to see and hear things that aren't there at times. While he has been able to manage on good days, there are times when he can't tell the difference between shadows and reality,

    Mates: Jason has shared the bed with a few women, but none that truly stick outside a few nights, more for a nice bed on a rough night.

    Cubs: None that he knows about.


    Bonds:
    Igor- unknown to them, both of them are related by Igor's father, making them step brothers. Jason was a result of a one night stand.
    Sage- Somewhat a stranger, he picked up the hitch hiker on his travel down from Denver. He doesn't have a fun reason why, but having a human to talk with helps. They have been together a few days.


    Spoiler: Backstory 

    Anchors:
    Ziggy: a husky Shepard mix, Ziggy was the second dog he had rescued from a kennel. She is 5 years old as has been with him for 3 years. She is the more energetic of his two dogs, always eager for playing around and exploring

    Husk: A chocolate lab, Husk is the older dog of the small family, and much more laid back. Having been taken from an abusive household, Husk is much more laid back and enjoys cuddling and sleeping in the sun.

    Dr. Tamera Shanish: Though not a regular, Tamera is the old therapist he had worked with a few times when he had tried rehab. While he has left rehab now, he still contacts her when suffering from the worse nights.
    Last edited by Koti~; 08-31-2020 at 03:50 PM.

    "Even Dreams, can be a nightmare"
    Spoiler: Click it, I dare ya! 




  10. #10
    Red Ninja
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