Xerarch Member
Posts : 4 Join date : 2016-06-16
| Subject: Arrogance and Sadism at it's Finest -Xerarch June 16th 2016, 23:08 | |
| Name: Xerarch (Zheer-ahrk)Gender: MaleAge: 4 YearsBreed: TundraHeight: 95 cmPack: Helidos
Rank Requested: Warrior
Appearance: Standing ninety-five centimeters tall and strong is quite a force to be reckoned with. White covers all of his body, with the exception of a few strands of black hair on his back. His frame, despite what might be expected from a wolf his size, is actually rather lean. Do not be fooled however, his physical stature is anything but frail. He's quite strong, with the brute force of his size and muscles, but has kept and trained his endurance and speed to give him more of an advantage in in skill. Adding on to his rather, some might say handsome, and others boring, looks two orbs of a bright silver-grey peer out and upon the world. Seeing over heads in not a problem for these eyes, and although they can become rather harsh and cold at times, they mostly hold a rather mischievous and amused look in them. He moves with long, purposeful strides. Not hiding or belittling his height at all. He's confident in himself, hence why a smirk can almost always be found upon the lips that sheath his teeth.
Personality: On the outside, he's quite the gentleman at first glance and meeting. His enthusiastic, happy, and chatty exterior creating a pretty good disguise for the beast within. Truthfully, he's a sneaky brute who enjoys irritating others and meddling in their affairs. He may appear to be loyal, but deep down he is self-serving and quite traitorous if something benefits or serves his own ends. He's easy to believe with his charisma, but most of the words that come from his lips are, in fact, lies. He feels no, or barely any, emotion with normal affiliations, but those that involve pain or anger in another (the cause being him of course) entertains him beyond belief. On top of his already eccentric behavior, he finds great pleasure in crushing the dreams of young children, stating in the past how he enjoys the way their faces fill with despair and how, at times, he'd like to hear them scream. But despite his sadistic sense of humor and desires, he does have a few good qualities. With an excellent memory, Xerarch is able to memorize and recall things he wishes to. However that then begins to bore him, which then gives him the feeling that if it doesn't entertain, it doesn't matter. Which may be the reason why he like to live his life in constant risk and danger, after all there are more wolves to mess with in a pack than there are when living alone.
Photo:
Face Claim: Akai (Wisentgehege Springe; polars) - Spoiler:
History: Such is a common tale of the child who had been born innocent. Then, through a series of tragic events he had turned corrupted and cruel. Family destroyed and seemingly nowhere to go. That is until they stumble upon a new land and then in which....
"Oh dear, I'm probably making this sound like my story, hmm? My sincerest apologies good sir, or madam. Let me tell you my own, from my own eyes and from that of others. And we shall see what you think of me then."
The stage opens with a rustle of leaves as a brute pushes his way through the entrance of a den. His face, is panicked but in wonder as he watches his beloved birth the combination of their genes. He could utter no words, not even a whisper for the one he loved, but instead he approached gently and softly. Laying his body around her head, he lifted her skull and eased it onto his comforting frame, gentle licks stroking across her cheek in silent encouragement. The she-wolf had cried out, then lay panting and weak once her offspring were free from her womb, their soft little cries sounding in search for their mother in their blind state. She brought them closer, cradling the three with her tail against her stomach where they soon began to feed. Then both father and mother began to lick them clean, no words spoken between the parents. But even if there were to be, the male would still be silent.
It was shame how he came to be, how the destruction of his vocal cords ceased his charming voice that had serenaded his mate. A mighty fall had it been, several bashes but not quite punctures to the throat would do the trick. Damaged they had been, at first a searing pain when he spoke, but then his voice became to quiet to hear, softer than the softest whispers. But then it became no more, and he said good bye to his main connection with those of his kind. He had to learn how to convey messages with his body and eyes, to communicate without any words. It was difficult and discouraging, but many were encouraging to one of their very best wolves in the pack. And just because he could no longer speak, it did not mean he could no longer, hunt, fight, and protect. And he did just that. Proved to all of the disabled or slightly so members of the pack, that their impairment should not have any affect on how others look at them, or limit what they might want to do. Of course, things would need to be modified, but nothing was entirely impossible. "Now, now, this information may seem unimportant or boring, but it is essential to our tale. You see, I was not one of those... 'good wolves.' As a matter of fact, I was actually rather rude and cruel to him. Talented yes, that he was. A 'good' wolf, yes that as well. But that is the thing about being 'good', it's boring. And the 'good' people, well they get boring too. My mother? Boring. Siblings? Boring. My life as a pup was rather boring, alright? So let's skip all of that, yes?"
Now, six months later, Xerarch had begun his training. Unsurprisingly he showed excellence in his training, his determination something the other apprentices did not have. While others dreaded the first day of sparring, he looked forward to it. No not for the actual training part, fool. He looked forward to hurting the others, watch as they humiliated themselves as they attempted to fight their best but failing at the experience of their mentors. And while he went, he shocked all the wolves around him with the smile and fire that graced his mouth and eyes. He was ready, excited. Tail waving mockingly behind him, he stood with his legs slightly bent and head ducked. As the student, he was opening up the floor for his teacher. Another large brute like he was proving to be, who'd battled alongside his father in the years prior. Speaking of the mute, he was sat a yard or so away, watching his sons' performance with interest. His mother was elsewhere, probably talking to the other female mothers as they gushed over which apprentice would end up with another apprentice. It didn't make sense to him, how relationships could be that exciting. But then again, what did he knew at his age. Now, back onto that spar.. well it happened. He'd proved himself to be successful in coming years in combat. Sharp and quick, he was able to predict movements and counter them before they even happened. He was sloppy, but his mentor could see the talent that was held within him. But even through the fight, the younger male hadn't ceased giving little taunts to the elder. And once he was done, his head held high above his head as he received praises of admiration and excitement from his siblings and fellow apprentices. There was one fae, who showed extensive admiration for him. Her frame was smaller than his, and as they made their way back to camp she never left his side. But as he passed his father he simple looked back over his shoulder and smirked, his eyes holding nothing but pure arrogance and disgust. "Just wait, old toad. You've already had the day you've last croaked, and it's only a matter of time before the day you last hop. You'll be nothing, mute. And then even Mother won't be able to stand you." He'd sneered, almost spat on the ground. The girl was still beside him, a quiet diplomat as she gazed uninterrupted at him. He began walking, leaving the brute to wonder why his son hated him so, and if what he'd said was a threat, all while the apprentice trotted after the white male.
Fast forward a year and a half later and the apprentices were now two years old. Training complete and ranks assigned, they assumed the positions and jobs of adults. The young female, Adenine, who had been the one to stand beside him on that first day of combat training, the one with the admiration filled eyes. Remember her? Yes, well, she'd grown to become quite a looker. She'd stayed by his side, choosing him to be her brute of choice. He hadn't courted her, didn't give her any privileges other than sleep curled at his side at night. But his parents seemed to think differently. They believed he cared for her, the fools thought he'd fallen in love with her. But he hadn't. She simply submitted to him, offering her entire being to him no matter what he might think. A mateship was arranged between the parents. Adenine would become Xerarch's wife. She was happy as can be, and once the news was announced to her she began to show more affection and possession over him. She'd lie awake in his den awaiting his return home, desperate to feel his body beside her own. She was obnoxious and if it weren't for her looks and willingness to do as he said, he wouldn't have agreed. And so they were set to be bonded, but that night never came.
"So what if I left? I had no feelings for the bitch, she was boring. Never changed, always quiet. Adenine never talked back to me, always did what I asked, when I asked. She was more of a slave than a mate. A slave I didn't want to have. Besides, I'd already done something I would've been exiled for anyways." What he had done was unknown, the only coincidence was that a wolf had gone missing from the pack a few days prior to his departure. Many thought he sent out for a lone search, but the one person who knew he wouldn't be coming back, was Adenine. She'd seen him. Head bent down to the neck of the now missing wolf. He was an apprentice with them, a training buddy. But now he had stared right at her, his eyes burning with pain and fear. His neck was torn slightly open, blood running down onto the ground in a pool. A pool that her so called lover was drinking from. He was drinking the blood of a wolf. Why? She didn't know. Hell, Xerarch didn't even know. He'd been overcome by an urge to taste it, and so he did. The other happened to come in at a bad time. Silently, the she wolf had fled never speaking of what she'd seen. She didn't know what happened to the body, simply that her friend was no longer alive. She'd wept, the pack searched, and Xerarch walked. He walked and walked and walked. Searching for somewhere or thing that could make him curious.
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