| |
Darkseeker
|
Do NOT post unless your Dragonpipe. |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Canine OC Template × Basic Information — Name: Dagrun • Pronunciation: dae-grahn • Age: 7 years old • Gender: Brute • Orientation: Heterosexual/aromantic • Pack: Kingdom of Ceva • Rank: Currently a loner — Appearance — 
Vigorous bodice - stalwart in other terms. 62kg / 6.52ft in length. Stomach-churning, fathomless obsolete scars. Kempt, wiry fur. Glowering, spine-chilling visage with honed ivories. Nicely structured stout paws. Bitten limp ear. Bear-like posture/walk. • Voice: Low-pitched. Throaty. Sonorous and seems a bit dry. • Odor: Thick pungent brute odor mixed with wet tree trunks and damp moss. — Personality — Antagonistic · Proprietorial · Crass · Vain · Callous · Inattentive • Likes: Serenity. Dewy dawns. Taste of blood. Choleric/Arrogant attitudes/personalities. • Dislikes: Canines that test his patience. Flowers, especially tulips. The sun. His brother, Nilas. — Relationships — Selmor - father; deceased. Maevel - mother; deceased. Nilas - brother; alive. Taryn - sister; alive. — Extras — Theme song: HENSON - SAHARA — |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Character Name: Pnévma -- -- -- Character Name Meaning: Spirit -- -- -- Name Pronunciation: Pah ney-v mah -- -- -- Gender: Female -- -- -- Age: 7 (almost 8) years old -- -- -- Sexuality: Straight/heterosexual -- -- -- Sound/voice: A quiet, soft-spoken voice with kindness and love sprinkled in. -- -- -- Appearance: A silver and black shaded she-wolf with oceanic blue eyes and one notch in her left ear. White splotches on her front legs reveal patterns of some type of marking. -- -- -- Personality: Much like how her voice is, she is a kind and gentle soul. She isn't as easily frightened as most think. She is spacy and easily sidetracked. -- -- -- Likes: She likes open fields, large open areas, and the wind. She also has a likeness towards the many spirits she sees through her days. -- -- -- Dislikes: She doesn't like damp, small areas, seeing those she cares about hurt or angry spirits. -- -- -- Fun Facts/Extra's: She can see the souls (spirits) of those who have died in the past. She is very smart and a great strategist because of those spirits. The markings on her legs are because of the spirits so that they could help her in dangerous areas (The markings with go dim into a dark grey when this happens) and she will seem much more aggressive in that state. Hope this is okay! I tried my best~ |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
The dusk was subsiding. The growing nightfall on the opposite end outstretched the welkin like a dim sheet. The whistling wind whirling through the woodland resonated further down the valley into what seemed an abyss. And as the tenebrous silhouettes loomed over the outskirts, the abiding evil forsook their caverns and scuttled after an odor they could've whiff out. The nightfalls were treacherous, spine-chilling yet bewitching. Was the obscurity of it luring us? Enticing us into its ruinous, lethal grasp, ready to devour our supple flesh? Thoughts were drilling into the masculines skull as it feasted upon the carcass, the dribble trickling from its frothing blood stirred mouth only sent the wandering coyotes into a frenzy. Who was this ghastly beast? Another massacrer on loose? The mutts could only ponder as they kept their distance, observing the carnivore gnaw. Dagrun. A firstborn - a rightful king of Ceva. He was once, a thriving, power-hungry beast that ruled the realm in glory until the goody shoes of a brother barreled him out of the throne - ending his name and coating the roguish canid in scars and ignominy. The tale of a mortifying ending, caused his stomach to churn, stout paws to shed keen, bloodstained canines as they delved into the mushy grime below. Banished out of the biome, out of the kingdom, he migrated into an opposed region, hid beneath gnarled, branched roots, and succumbed to slumber. He was drowning in envy and fury, suffocating in his own consequences for years. However, did he plan to stop vengeance? No. After years of surviving, growing into a vigorous, independent brute, he took the chance with greed and stood beside the border - the creeks cooing washing his contemplations away. Revenge is a confession of pain. The brute breathed tiredly until the discernible splatter stretched across the flower-embellished grassland, one step closer to his final destination. In the pitch-black nightfall, nothing will stop this monstrosity from getting the saccharine, saccharine vengeance. _________ (Don't worry about it! It's perfectly done!!) |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Pnévma While the sun was setting in the near distance, Pnévma thought it was a good as time as ever to go and talk with the spirit folk. After slowly crawling out of the den she had called home for a while, she saw a few others, guards, approach her and ask her not to go very far. She knew she wasn't going to go that far away from the pack but it was heartwarming to hear that she was asked not to go far. She knew that there was danger but she was assuring herself that she could get out of some situations if need be. With a nod and bow to the guards, she trotted out into the windy areas and breathed in the cold and crisp air. The wind felt nice against her fur and she stood up tall. Being out in the open, and alone, would help with her shyness but she knew she had to stay on alert. She closed her eyes before tilting her ears until she heard a whisper next to her and smiled. She opened her eyes and saw a cheerful spirit bow to her. She knew this spirit well; as he was an old elder of the pack she called home. She bowed her head to the spirit in response. "Got any new news you heard about?" She asked quietly, trying to sound confident but failed. The spirit sat down across from her and nodded. "Well, yes, but you know the deal. Information for information." The spirit's voice echoed three times in her ears, giving her a headache if she was young again. The voice was loud but calm, making her feel at ease. Pnévma smiled a little at the spirit. "I gave you twice the information last time, plus you owe me for helping you get back to your family." She said, giving the spirit a sweet and gentle smile. Her trademark. The spirit laughed, the sound echoing all around them, before shaking his head. "Alright, alright.." The spirit tilted his head, thinking. "There's been an increase of spirits lately, so you should be careful, miss ghost whisperer." The spirit floated up to her head and whispered, "And.. Don't let anyone hear you when you talk to us. For your safety, not ours." Pnévma shook her head as she was confused by the spirit before seeing it flake away into the wind. She sighed, knowing that this information was not anything different than what she had known before. While this information was not new, she kept this information to heart as she stood up again and walked around the area, and greeted the friendly spirits she saw. Learning that the spirits were worried about the new coming of more and more spirits had worried her. She didn't understand what could have increased these rates and she felt sympathy towards the newly dead. |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Further, he went, further he lost his lucidity. Voices of the past reminiscence taunted the beast like a phantom - teased the brute with the tender drought as he descended further into the dusky forestry. And as the setting altered, the pine groves expanding gradually caused the brute to halt his movements. The moss overgrown stone, delving into the earth for decades swept reminiscences over his silhouette like a fictitious tsunami. Dagrun was dazed by the nostalgia; the flashing images of his father standing nobly at the ridge of the stone as he commanded, uttered prudently to the wolves below - struck Dagrun and Nilas with astonishment - two bipolar brothers abided in the litter like hot and cold. Dagrun wrestled into superiority, built brawn, protected the weak, and Nilas, did the utter opposite. He cherry-picked to entertain the gals, bask in the sun - laze around. What a scum. Not that it mattered now, times altered, evil engulfing the land Nilas neglected, only relished in what circled him. Dagrun, on the other hand, stretched his physique by bounding onto the slit stone, as he soundlessly cherished the scenery, the easily seen, gouged claw streaks, the nostalgic atmosphere. But unfortunately, the nearer to the ledge he got, a queer, damsel-like odor bustled by like an arrow firing to a target. Bewildered at first, he disregarded it the moment when a group howl reverberated the skies like booming thunder. And as Dagrun lumbered out a resonant snarl, he leap-frogged off of the stone and straight back on the pathway. This nightfall will be momentous. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Pnévma Pnévma looked around after she had finished talking with the spirits and flinched as she saw someone approach, but calmed down almost immediately after seeing it was the leader. She trotted over to him and bowed her head to him. "Talking with the ghosts again?" He asked before giving out a low chuckle. Pnévma nodded her head after lifting it up from the ground. "Yes, I did. They all are telling me about this major increase in spirits, which both intregues me and terrifies me." She lowered her head and drooped her ears. The leader turned around and brushed his tail against her nose, making her sneeze, and said, "Come on, no need to mope around when there are things to do." Pnévma blinked before smiling. "Okay." She said and trotted up to him. The two headed towards the clan as fast as they could go. They only stopped once for Pnévma to catch a breath before running faster. She saw the gaurds that watched over the lands as they all greeted the leader, moving only this time to do so, before she saw the leader walk through them and walk inside. She stepped closer and bowed her head to the gaurds. "Be safe, Pnévma." A gaurd told her. She looked up to the gaurd and nodded to them. "Of course. No need to worry about me, do your job." She told them before trotting inside after feeling the breeze kick in and nearly push her pack. She looked up and saw three spirits fighting in the sky and froze in fear. These sprits were red unlike the gentle blueish the others were, meaning they were angry spirits. She heard the talkative voices of the clansfolk and tried to tell them not to go near this place since there were spirits around, but remembered her promise to the spirits and gulped down her fear. She sighed and tried to get the angry spirits away from the clansfolk, nearly getting injured in the process, but eventually got them to calm down. The spirits snorted at her and hissed at each other, trying to attack the others. She let out a growl at them. "Stop fighting, please." She said as quietly as she could since there was still a few clansfolk around and saw how the spirits looked at each other before laying down. "Sorry, ma'am." The spirits said in unison. She smiled. "Is there a reason you three are fighting?" She asked. "I mean, yeah, we're mortal enemies." The farthest from her spoke with a glare to the two other spirits. She pawed the ground. "Mortal enemies?" She echoed, concerned by what they meant. "It's exactly as you think. We all hate each other and would happily die again to kill each other." The spirits grinned before realizing that she was shaking and looked around. "Is she okay?" One whispered to another. "I don't know. Should we ask?" Another whispered. "What? Have you never talked to a girl before? You don't ask questions to a girl when she's scared." One hissed out. |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
The grotesque brute scuttled in fleeting, vast strides. His silvery, merely flickering eye enlarged, even more, when he eventually was close enough to identify their odors, their outlying, gravelly voices. Nevertheless, this pleasurable sensation dwelling in his gut wasn't eternal. It was, rather, provoked, this excitement frothing brute halted when a dainty spoken voice shuffled by his side. "Hmm,"— Dagrun cooed. Like deer in headlights, he endeavored to discover the source of this ethereal voice, of this, ghostly wolf rather. And as he feebly, merely, prodded his disfigured snout out of the stagnant, pitch-black shadows, his glistening silvery eye uncovered this enigma. The lowly bent figure of his recoiled back with a resonant rumble rip in his chest. He was doubtful if he was supposed to be seen like that. Or if he even desired to be seen yet. But, as he stood there, scrutinizing, being a silent spectator, he couldn't contain that vicious, throaty chuckle to resound out. "What was this imbecile even verbalizing to?"— Dagrun thought. Bedazzled a bit, the brute rattled his skull when the realization hit. He shouldn't squander time by observing, he needed to conduct this purpose he strived for years. And this, outlandish wolf, could be a great decoy to triumph. But, Dagrun argued. Whether it was adequate to thrash when this canine determines to return, melts in the undergrowth where its scream could be insulated among the groves or ambush now, when nobody would dare to lend a paw. He chose to observe, for a moment or two. |
|
|
Fall 
Day 
Heavy Rain
