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1x1 for Peregrine and myself. Do not post unless mentioned. - No set plot, unhinged characters, lonerxloner wolf RP. - Ideas: Edited at December 14, 2024 08:41 PM by Acerbus.
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Full Name Nezera Nicknames Zer, Ghost -- Species Canine Gender Female Age 5 years Moral Alignment Neutral evil - preservation -- Appearance Nezera is a walking weapon, her build a testament to primal elegance and strategic power. Compact and muscular, she moves with a deliberate grace that sets her apart from ordinary wolves. Her body is lithe but powerful, built low to the ground on slightly shorter legs that belie her incredible agility and strength. Her coat is a complex canvas of brown hues - deep umber blending seamlessly with softer grey undertones, creating a natural camouflage that allows her to disappear and reappear like a phantom in the wilderness. Scattered across her shoulders and flanks, a network of scars tells silent stories of survival, each mark a testament to battles fought and endured. But it is her eyes that truly captivate and unsettle. Golden and intense, they seem to possess an almost luminescent quality, glowing with an unnatural brilliance in the darkness. These eyes speak of an intelligence far beyond typical animal awareness - sharp, calculating, holding a depth of consciousness that suggests something more than mere instinct. Temperment Nezera is ruthless, driven by self-preservation. Her temperament a razor-sharp instrument of survival that recognizes only one priority: herself. Where others might seek connection or community, she exists as a solitary force, viewing the world through a lens of pure, unapologetic self-interest. Her cunning is not merely a skill, but a fundamental survival mechanism. Manipulative to her core, she navigates social landscapes with a calculated precision that borders on the pathological. Every interaction is a potential opportunity for exploitation, every relationship a tool to be used and discarded without hesitation or remorse. There's a subtle derangement that simmers beneath her controlled exterior - a volatility that keeps others perpetually off-balance. Her emotional landscape is not one of depth or complexity, but of a cold, almost clinical detachment. She cares for nothing and no one beyond her immediate survival and advantage. Deceit comes as naturally to her as breathing. She moves through territories with a predatory intelligence that sees connections not as bonds, but as potential weaknesses to be manipulated. Her isolation is not a defense mechanism, but a strategic choice - a way to maintain absolute control over her environment and those unfortunate enough to cross her path. Nezera's world is binary: those who are useful, and those who are disposable. She operates with a chilling efficiency that suggests a mind only loosely tethered to typical social constraints. Her actions are driven by an instinct far more primal than emotion - a pure, unfiltered drive for self-preservation that recognizes no moral boundaries. Vulnerability is a concept foreign to her. Where others might seek understanding or connection, Nezera sees only opportunity and threat. She is a predator in the truest sense - not just physically, but psychologically, moving through the world with a calculated indifference that is both mesmerizing and terrifying. Voice & Accent Nezera speaks in a light, docile tone. Her voice is unwavering, full of crisp denotion and clipped, clinical responses. She lacks any true emotion unless she is angry - while similar, her voice will drop and pitch slightly lower, taking on a manic, unhinged edge that leaves the other unsure of whether she will simply walk away or attack. Strengths - Cunning - - Exploitation - - Perception - - Manipulation - Weaknesses - Unstable - - Unpredictability - - Volatile temper - - Inability to perceive emotion - Fears - Vulnerability - - Loss of control - - Being outwitted -
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'Don’t waste your breath asking for forgiveness. There’s no deliverance, no second chances. That would be too kind..' Hart ◊ Alias/Nickname(s): The Stag of Sin, Rogue Age: 5 y/o[Adult] Sex: Sire [He/Him] Orientation: Aromantic Species: Canine Pack Affiliation: N/A Role/Occupation: Rogue ◊ Height: 40 inches Weight: 69 lbs Build: Hart is a lean, long-limbed brute. He isn't particularly built well, but he's toned and has enough meat on his skeletal to not be considered underweight. Sheathed in a deep charcoal-gray pelt with softer strokes of silvery gray brushing his abdomen, limbs and the underside of his wirey, shaggy tail. His pelt surface is coarse and rugged, forged to withstand the biting cold and to steer the treacherous terrains. His face is chiselled, with deep-set eyes and pointy lobes, dominated by penetrating golden eyes. Scent: Of rain-drenched moss and iron; presumably blood. Voice: He mutters like his throat has been dried for centuries. ◊ Main Persona: Hart is a veteran of deception and manipulation, using charm or feigned defenselessness to gain trust and exploit it for his gain. He views others as mere tools, discarding them once they no longer serve his interests, and he has no qualms about using others' kindness or desperation against them. Hart also does not pardon easily and delights in seeing his enemies suffer, often plotting slow, deliberate revenge. He lacks any empathy, finding amusement or irritation in others' pleas for clemency, and feels no remorse for his actions, whether causing pain or destruction. Though not overtly violent, he enjoys the discomfort of others, setting traps that prolong their suffering for his entertainment. However, Hart avoids confrontation, opting for underhanded tactics like ambushes or poisoning to eliminate threats, and will even turn allies against one another to escape unscathed. Weaknesses: Dependence on others to cooperate with his plans, overconfidence leads to underestimating, arrogance makes him careless Strengths: Strategic mind, patience, deception, charisma Likes: Control, secrets, chaos (under his control), psychological games Dislikes: Direct confrontation, weakness, betrayal (unless he's the one doing it) Habits: Speaking in riddles or half-truths, unnecessary praise, mimic's mannerisms ◊ Allies: N/A Enemies/Rivals: N/A Love Interest(s): N/A Brood: Forgotten Heir(s): N/A ◊ Preferred Domain: Snow mountain ledges, abandoned caves, tundras Quotes: ''Trust me... It’ll hurt more when you find out the truth." ; "The greatest trick I ever pulled? Making you think I was on your side."
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Nezera hated the rain. As she lifted her nose to the sky, her eyes narrowed at whatever gods were watching. They must have known she despised the cold, wet torrents, and yet - on the horizon, approaching rather briskly, was a gnarly system that stank of a wet pelt. She growled, uncaring that she must have looked utterly insane. Inanimate forces may not have been able to hear her, or even respond, but she only cared that she at least attempted to frighten it off before she turned, padding back into the forest. She was decently high up the mountain today, having been chased by a rather unsavory mother bear for trying to nip at her cub. Even with the trees, the wind shear was intense, and it cut through her fur to the bone. She shivered, shaking herself off as she continued to climb, looking for some sort of cover. Initially, she had hoped that the trees would provide shelter, but the direction of the wind had changed rather abruptly and she found herself victim to the elements. As the first drops of rain splattered onto her head, she cursed the daft mother bear for the third time in as many minutes. At last, she picked up the faintest whistle of the wind to her right. Hidden by rocks, the entrance to a cave beckoned her with its enticingly stagnant air. Nezera let out a victorious yip before slinking to its maw, ducking inside just as her tail was pelted with rain. She shook it off, splattering the walls with water, before slowly prowling futher inward. The cave was relatively deep, and as she scented the air, the only sign of life was the rapidly fading smell of rabbit - probably fled underground as soon as she entered. Padding further, she was pleased to find that not only was the cave deep, but it seemed to have a small pond within. Water dripped from the stalagtites above, and her eye twitched with each monotonous splash, but she had shelter and contained water, much preferred to the deluge about to strike. With a contented sigh, she crept to the back wall and curled herself into a ball, willing her body to warm faster. She pondered the recent events of her life as she waited - of course, the bear that had invaded her territory was an incovenience, but after the storm, she was sure she could find a way to get rid of it. Perhaps she would attempt to drown the cub. Bears were brutes, but surely they had their limits? A week prior, she had picked up the scent of a male wolf along her border. It hadn't been enough to warrant concern at the time, far off and dissipating. He had been alone, so she didn't feel the need to fret about a transient pack. In fact, thoughts of the male had completely left her mind until a similar scent curled towards her from the cave entrance. It seemed she had an unwelcome visitor.
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The vacant grassland was scant, dreary and an endless sea. The breeze that whistled through brittle blades of green brought a trace of moisture that meant a downpour. Hart, woefully, was in the barren clearing meaning that despite any lingering dangers, he was an open, vulnerable target for the tempest to rage upon. Even if he was built woolly -- apt to resist the harshest of weathers. He was forced to cower when those weathers intensified in power. Just like this one -- as it steamed upon the terrain, wailing with the whirling current and drowning those in their burrows, Hart was potent enough to plow past its wafts and distance from the grassland -- plummeting past the viscous coppices and into the outskirts of the howling woodland that leisurely began submitting to the rainfall above. Despite the apparent discomfort plastering on his face, Hart thoughtlessly tailed after a trodden footpath that ushered him toward a far-fetched slantwise grotto. It was overgrown, presumably deserted from the looks of it. Well, given that any scent he was able to seize, dwindled like some supernatural anomaly -- concealed by the pungent wafts of rain. Hart gambled -- headfirst into the entrance of the cool and rugged cavern, his head was lowered to the ground, nares flaring as the odour of a canine was savoured from the soil. So this lair was taken? Hart pondered for just a second before continuing onward, might as well research and see if the den-dweller was keen to lend its residence. And in the moment of approaching this -- unfamiliar presence, Hart ceased -- looming before them whilst his scratchy voice cut through the faraway sound of rain. '...wasn't expecting company. But then again, the storm did have a way of gathering the lonesome, didn’t it? Don't fret, I’m not here to aggravate your solitude. I’m merely seeking refuge... like you....'
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