Post by JAG on Mar 26, 2011 22:04:13 GMT -5
WRATH
"quote or song lyrics that define your character"
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it's trixie to you, bub! and so what if i have multiple personality disorder? jastra and myth can own your two-dimensional ass! you wanna have a go? meet me in the howling at two o' clock - that would be eastern standard time in case you're curious. be afraid. be very afraid.
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00I. name jag
0II. nicknames wrath
III. years of age six
00V. gender male
00I. body type broad, muscular and well defined
0II. height and weight thirty-five inches to shoulder and eighty pounds
III. hair faded gray
0IV. eyes black
00V. unique features a scar on his right front leg and the area around his eyes are black blending in with his black eyes
00I. likes thunderstorms they calm him, his pack, the kill and blood, dominance and lazy days
0II. dislikes all other packs, pulling off fur from a kill, not being first, wolves that talk to much and not winning
III. quirks/habits stares off into space for a while before he makes a major decision and grooming himself
0IV. fears the day he will have to meet the dust and account to mother earth of his wrong doings
00V. secrets wants and lusts after cinder a chaotic good wolf
0VI. strengths domination and inflicting fear
VII. weaknesses his temper always gets the best of him making it hard to do what is best for himself and cinder the good wolf
VIII. other not right now i will let you know
0IX. overall personality Jag is a conglomeration of a thousand different traits, thrown together, each fighting for dominance over the others. He's a loose canon, but boy does it suit him. His true persona has been lost over the years, replaced with a mixture of all the people he has pretended to be to further his own existence and standing. A cunning brute, he is the master of disguise, and can be whomever suits him best for what ever task, though this has come at a price. He wanders now without his own sense of self-priority, lost long ago when he was forced to fake his entire life, and most importantly, his deepest desire: pain. It drives him like nothing else ever has, can, or will. Despite his age, he stills craves it much the same as the day he was made to be the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Perhaps addicted to the rush as he attacks, or perhaps just addicted to the kill. There is nothing Jag loves more than to hear the heart of his victim falling into that terrible rhythm, slow and labored. It is his music of choice.
Oh, yes, he is sadistic. Cruel, sardonic, downright evil. He has embraced everything about his life, thriving in the freedom it brings him. He does not, it would seem, take note of the chains his bloodlust wraps around him. Jag is a prisoner to his own madness; caught, possessed by the aspect of his animalistic nature. Far too ruthless, far too unforgiving; he sought the world like it were a new found tryst. One that he'd abuse at whim, to any ends of oblivion. The cannibal king finds that in every fleeting, desperate breathe, there was beauty in torture. Animosity was always the little niche that seemed to work it's way into every dauntless step this white devil took.
Jag is a creature wild and untamed. Though he spent many a year convincing those around him that his upbringing had taught him the importance of maintaining dignity and reputation through eloquent speech and genteel actions, it was, of course, a lie. He will often slip his collar and embody the very soul of an animal. A wolf in a sheepskin. A lion amongst lambs. When displeased, he will roar and slash out at those who have wronged him. When satisfied, he will purr in utter contentment. He cannot be underestimated for he is as unpredictable as the wind, gentle one moment and the next, a tumultuous storm bent on destruction.
There was something so endlessly endearing about the art of destruction, the demise of a mortal being; in all it's crunch and savagery. There was no less a mercy then a vengeful god when he touched to break his desires. With an acute precision, he dismembered without a notion or conscience. His opponent's faces, he can never take his eyes off them. Violence was welcoming, it was the knife to which he cut. it was his forever lover, mother, his Venus. The pale wolf, the ever stone soul, bound by the art of torture and gore. A sadist, with a few masochistic fetishes, which believes in the technique of ruin; livid in the twist, in the choke of torment.
At the heart of his beats a conviction of steel. Once something is set in his mind, he pursues it relentlessly with a lust that drives all other matters into the shade. He is goal oriented and remains steadfast to that goal once he puts his mind to it. It would take the shattering of the world to gain his notice away from what he desires and even then it is very possible he would ignore the apocalypse entirely. This applies not only to his goals in life, but to small things, like his prey.
On the subject of prey, he loves to play with his victims. Torturing them, pushing their boundaries, inflicting hope until they beg for release, then inflicting pain until they beg for death. Cruel, unnecessary, but Jag ‘s way regardless of the opinions of others. He is not governed by the morals which, in his opinion, plague other horses. Most will, to his knowledge, not attack a yearling or foal. Jag does not distinguish between adult and foal. He has never once felt guilt or shame for his actions, and after nearly two years of being a cold blooded killer, it's highly doubtful he'll get a sudden pang of conscience anytime soon.
The prospect of morals never arise, and he teases without consequence the epitome of god's greatest shame. He rebelled any idea of sanctity; becoming a parody of what reaped the universe of such onslaught. It was nothing to him; peace, it would never be a man's will. And the need to seize and destroy common tranquility. Because without that, modesty would drive him to the endless pits of depravity. Not that he isn't already mad. He loses himself in the appetites of the dead and dying, sucks the meat from their bones after loving every inch. Monsters like him don't believe in law, but write their own paths, burn their own ravenous wake. Regret is the weakness to feeling, and so he never feels such; instead takes what he wants without the fear of never knowing it's loss. And that whatever road it may lead him, he was livid for the next, and the next moment after. For he reveled in chaos, found humor in horror, and catered to every fickle want. Meet Jag ; your antagonist, and most nefarious of heart-breakers. The tyrant which kissed and ripped the still beating heart from your chest
00I. father nunki
0II. mother ember
III. siblings savan (brother)
0IV. other significant wolves cinder, he can’t stop thinking about her
00v. overall history this portion needs to be at least two full - five to six sentences - paragraphs long. however, i may request more if your character is an older one
00I. Member group apache
0II. famous last words Of course its in the way, kill it!
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SYR INTEGRA of CAUTION 2.0 created this