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| Gareth Dryskol : Male : Blood; Anaphylaxis : Female : Influenza | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 6 2012, 09:54 PM (393 Views) | |
| Nherva | Nov 6 2012, 09:54 PM Post #1 |
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Lurker Queen
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Character Number- 9th [align=center]It ain't no mystery I'm all I have left I'm pushing back and running you over I've been thrown down run around Beaten 'til I hit the ground Telling you right now that it's over There's no room for mistakes All the parts are in place Say what you will but say it to my face Better back the fuck up Better shut the fuck up I'll do what I want and I'll never give up I won't be broken I won't be tortured I won't be beaten down I have the answer I take the pressure I turn it all around Lift me up above this The flames and the ashes Lift me up and help me to fly away Lift me up above this The broken the empty Lift me up and help me to fly away[/align] Name- Gareth Dryskol Age- 26 Gender- Male Sexuality- Heterosexual [align=center]-Appearance- ![]() [/align]Even though he is from a tribe of mountain warriors, Gareth’s frame does not reflect the heavy, muscular bulk of his father and those before him. It was once a source of shame for the leanly muscled young man, but he has since grown into his lankiness and learned how to use his size and shape to his advantage. Not being overly tall, at only around 5’8’’ he doesn’t strike as the most intimidating figure, but that doesn’t mean he can’t make someone uneasy around him. He has enough lean muscle on his bones to make him more dangerous than he looks. He might not be able to pick up a fallen tree and beat down his enemies in a single blow like his father, but he is fast. This, coupled with his knowledge of human and dragon anatomy alike, makes him still a formidable warrior on a battlefield. Upon first seeing him, one of the best terms anyone would use to describe Gareth is dark. Even though his skin is paler due to his northern tribal heritage, his hair is almost raven-black and his eyes an unwelcoming storm laden blue. He dresses mostly in dark cloth and leather as is the custom of his warband. Rarely ever are any of his clothes a color other than deep earth tones, the brightest color ever seen perhaps being a bright red thanks to a dye created by a high altitude plant that his band uses to dye their flags. His clothing is also seldomly of a high-quality being that his tribe lives off the land in the northern reaches of Loth Angresan. They almost never send more than two or three men into a city and even then it isn’t for things like fine clothing, rather for whatever the village cannot supply for itself or loot from its conquests. Because of the warlike nature of his life and those surrounding him, Gareth’s body is riddled with scars large and small. He has yet to earn one large enough to be of great significance to his people, but he has earned enough scars and killed enough people and beasts to undergo his rite of passage. The scars he has of particular note, however, are the black marks that mar his right arm from wrist to shoulder. They are merely dashes of black inked tattoos laddering up his arm, one for each enemy he has dispatched on the battlefield. Keeping track of kills during battle is one of the customs of his people and each warrior still living after a skirmish is marked with their triumphs, so that all know what amount of respect to offer each individual fighter. Gareth wears his with particular pride, for no one ever thought he’d make anything but an easy target for an enemy, yet he has almost as many marks as a man twice his age. There is only one belonging aside from his marks that Gareth keeps on his person at all times and wears with any amount of pride. Around his neck he wears a braided leather cord on which is woven a pair of large ivory fangs, too large to be any creature but a dragon. They are from his first and only dragon kill, a Sekkaian Forest whose bite nearly claimed his life. [align=center]-Personality-[/align] Self-reliant, Superior, Ambitious, Dominant Due to the way Gareth has grown up, fighting is all he knows. Fighting is how one solves problems, settles arguments, and makes their place in life. If one cannot fight and win, they aren't worthy of much respect. The right to live is won by ones prowess on the battlefield or hunting trail. For the men in his society, their profession is warrior, for the women it's to breed yet stronger warriors to hold fast the grounds they call their home. Victory, when won, must be absolute. There cannot be any half wins, draws, or stalemates. For Gareth, mercy is rarely given and respect only where it is due. Everyone earns their place and he's had to work a lot harder than most to earn his, which is why he can easily come off as though he's better than everyone else. He may also initially treat anyone new with anything ranging from utter disregard to blatant disrespect until they prove to him otherwise that they are worthy of his notice. Just as those who he has grown up around that have shaped his life and his outlook upon it, Gareth values strength, but just as much as strength he values finesse. Most of his peers and comrades in arms were only concerned with physical strength, power, and victories, but because of his build and assumptions of his elders, Gareth has learned to also value cunning and intelligence. From early on, he's honed the art of getting the kill with the smallest effort required. When on hunts, he's taken the time to add to his people's knowledge of vulnerable places on their prey with his own, studying the anatomy of creatures and people alike. This task of study he's given himself is what has allowed him to overcome his lack of muscle and size and rise in the ranks as just as able-bodied a warrior as the rest of his peers. Never could he admit it out loud, but Gareth is fascinated by what makes a body work. The way bones, tissue and sinew work together to make a living creature alive interests him almost as much as how easily the life woven by those things can be snuffed out. He often volunteers to clean fresh kills in order to get a first hand look at the body before it’s divided up into food and raw materials. Another thing he values, is self-reliance. Rarely ever was he helped to get where he is, and he believes wholeheartedly that those who whine and cry for help and pity don't deserve it. They belong at the bottom of the proverbial food chain and he's just fine being closer to the top. Gareth doesn't necessarily have friends so much as he has allies and allies can be as temporary and fleeting as good fortune in his corner of the world. As it is, allies are only his so long as they are strong and willing to keep fighting for whatever it is they need to survive. Being able to survive on his own is of utmost importance to him and he’s been known to be able to keep himself alive in the wilderness with nothing but a knife on his person for several days at a time. In his mind, everyone should have to earn their right to live. He also isn’t afraid to die, after all, everyone has their given time, but he’d rather make sure he proved his right to live his life before he succumbs. Many of his peers bond to dire pups when they’ve proven themselves worthy to take on such a task, but Gareth wishes to aim a bit higher. Being almost killed by a dragon in his early teens, he has a more than healthy respect for the creatures and the stories of the terrible, mountainous beasts he hears in his village’s tavern from time to time have attracted him to the idea of bonding one. It isn't, however, the Sekkaian variety that interests him. He's already been privy to the sort of weakness they are capable of showing at the loss of a rider or a tiny crack in their crystal, when, on the other hand, the Tainted have nothing left to lose and therefore cannot be so easily brought to their knees. Though the Taint's loss of the war was a blow to their reputation in his mind, Gareth has heard of the new leadership and what those left of the shattered legion are looking to achieve without the hive-minded hierarchy they once had. He has little time for the defeat and pillaging of villages in the mountains anymore, rather he believes his time would be better spent rising in the ranks of a society worthy of his strength and fortitude. After all, if he can’t ever win his own father’s approval, then he will outshine him. If he can manage to bond something massive and intimidating on top of bonding in the first place, then his world might just be complete. Rank- Unaffiliated Blood [align=center]-History-[/align] Before the start of the war and the clear division between Sekkai and the Tainted lands and before monolithic evil dragons purged much of the west of it’s people, groups were able to move freely and settle wherever they could make a life for themselves. A tribe of nomadic people that originated in the forests farther north moved down to the very northernmost corner of the Loth Angresan mountains. There, their newest leader decided that their nomadic life was too archaic and they would eventually have to settle in order to survive in a world that was advancing around them. Influential as he was, he was able to get his tribe to settle and center their lifestyle from then on around breeding and handling dire wolves in order to hunt and protect their civilization. The small band grew into a substantial village in only about a decade, completely oblivious to the beginning of the war between the Taint and Sekkai. The only war the villagers were privy to were the conquering and pillaging of other mountain villages in order to extend their livelihood when the game trails grew too quiet for comfort. Soren, the Fang, who was the influential leader of the settlement, the one that had them settle in the first place, declared that they would not leave as their elders were suggesting and move on to find a better place. Instead, they would remain and send a warband of dire riders and warriors to get what they needed in the cases where aid was not offered freely. Several other smaller villages joined with Soren’s forces and the once small nomadic band had built their own small city. Their successful forays into places beyond their own made them prosper. Soon, the Taint touched even Soren’s people. Insane, hungry dragons began lurking in the mountains, snatching up hunting parties and stealing off their flocks. Even with their powerfully bred dires, they were hardly a match for the dragons, but they persisted. During the first months of the dragons arriving in their secluded valley, the leader Soren’s last son was born. Already having five sons old enough to fight for the village, the scarred veteran was prideful to see yet another male child of his line born. Even though his birth killed his mother, Gareth was was no source of shame for Soren until he started to grow into a man. The passing of puberty years later showed that his last son wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t muscular and strong, but scrawny and lanky. In his teens and extremely bent on getting his father’s approval, Gareth did everything he could to prove himself. He threw himself into his training, built as much muscle as his frame allowed, worked with the dire wolves (even the mean-tempered ones) whenever he could and eventually found his way into a hunting party when he was fourteen. The party was on the trail of a small herd of bonasus and had been for a day before the dires sensed the danger they were walking into. The way to the herd was cut off by what had previously been a Sekkaian patrol. They came across the ransacked camp in the wintry afternoon as snow started to lightly dust the remains of the tents and campfire. There were bodies of Sekkian troops, burned and ravaged by what appeared to have been other dragons. The dires with them were uneasy, even though the threat seemed to have been passed. While the hunting party was looting through what remained of the Sekkaian patrol’s camp, they were attacked by a single dragon, a Forest whose lamenting cries and vicious strikes against those trying to take his rider’s belongings could only be the signs of the newly Tainted. Having taken most of the group by surprise, two men were downed before they could even react. Their dires attacked the dragon in a rage and were quickly dispatched by its lashing claws and venomous fangs. Frightened, but conflicted between running to preserve his life and dying with honor, Gareth had retreated to the edge of the camp. Trying desperately to think of a way out of the situation, Gareth didn’t have time to come up with a way out before the dragon killed the rest of the group and finally turned on him. All it would take was a quick snap of the dragon’s jaws and it would be over. What he hadn’t expected was one of the dires, a sundasher by the name of Tyr hadn’t been so easily put down by the dragon and his familiarity with Gareth added to his rage at losing his handler had him facing off with the Forest. Despite Tyr’s efforts, the Forest reached over him, his sinuous neck allowing him plenty of reach to snatch Gareth’s arm in his fangs. Screaming and suddenly filled with blinding rage, Gareth beat on the dragon’s skull with his weapon uselessly as Tyr ripped at its scales with his fangs. He thought for sure that he would lose his arm, or his life, but as he fought against the Forest’s grip, he realized how close he was to the creature’s vulnerable eyes. The only thing that saved him at that point was being able to plunge his sword into the Forest’s eye and subsequently its brain, bringing it down before it tore his arm off. He didn’t have a whole lot of time to celebrate his victory, however, because the Forest’s venom was already in his veins. Miniscule as the amount was, it was easily enough to kill a small framed fourteen year old boy. Gareth passed out, only to be awoken hours later by Tyr licking his face. The grizzled old dire woke him enough to drag him back home, where he spent the next several days and weeks after recovering from the dragon’s bite. Three times during his recovery, his caretakers were sure he was dead and his father was more ashamed than worried. The entire hunting party had been killed off except for his son and the dire wolf that brought him home. Soren’s son couldn’t just take an honorable death...he had to come back weakened and almost wither away and die. It was something Soren never forgot, even if Gareth long since proved his worth. Despite the odds, Gareth pulled through, his body purging the dragon’s poison over the course of a week or two. Tyr, without a handler and alone, stayed by Gareth’s bedside the entire time and was perhaps the only reason Soren didn’t end his weak and worthless child himself. Once recovered, the young man realized he wouldn’t be fighting alone anymore, as Tyr continued to follow him and obey his commands even though they weren’t bonded in the way that the dire had been to his own handler. Even that was a source of shame for Soren, who angered at the thought that his youngest child wouldn’t bond his own dire with Tyr in tow. The highest honor for his people was to bond a dire wolf and Gareth and Tyr’s bond would never be pure as the one between a young pup and his new handler. Even though Gareth shamed his father twice in the same instance, he knew what he had accomplished by slaying the Forest that had been brought to insanity by Tainting. He went back to the campsite after he recovered and retrieved the hollow, venom-producing fangs from the skull of the scavenger-ravaged corpse and kept them as trophies of his first kill. He didn’t care anymore that he’d brought shame upon his house by not dying with the rest of the hunting party. It was a stupid notion that he should have had to when he killed a dragon in order to survive. It didn’t matter to him that he should have come home unscathed with the dragon’s head on a platter in order to avoid the negative response. A few years passed since his run-in with the Sekkaian patrol dragon and his village was approached by three riders, their dark beasts glowering with threatening gazes as Soren’s well-known warband was pressed into service. It was do or die. If Soren didn’t fight for the Tainted, his entire village with all of its people would be razed to the ground. The old fighter knew his warband and his dires were no match for the dragons and so agreed, with the condition that some of his band be allowed to bond their own dragons to increase their strength. This was an offer more than easily accepted by the Tainted riders, who likely would have taken some of their candidate stock from the mountain people anyway. Willing candidates were always better than those they had to kidnap unwillingly. The spiral of degradation that followed the alliance with the Taint was a quick one. As Gareth grew and his bond with Tyr strengthened, they became more than just hunters. They were warriors in the band that swept across Loth Angresan, decimating and looting villages as they went. Gareth’s black-scar tattoos grew more and more numerous marking up the length of his arms the farther the band travelled south. Even then, Soren ignored his youngest’s conquests. It angered Gareth that no matter what he did, his father couldn’t look at him with an ounce of the respect he deserved. He tried desperately to get his father’s attention, taking down stronger and fiercer enemies whenever he could until he came upon one that he could not face, even with Tyr at his side. A veteran dire rider of Sekkai was his first defeat in months and his sundasher merciless. Locked in combat, the younger sundasher tore out the older Tyr’s throat with so little effort that it truly frightened Gareth. The war-torn dire that had attached himself to him was gone in an instant, without even a death-howl to mark his passing. He had never seen anything stronger than Tyr apart from a dragon and it threw him off his game. The second time he’d almost lost his life was marked that day when the veteran dire’s rider drove his spear into Gareth’s gut. He was only fortunate his vital organs were spared, though his attachment to Tyr was painfully severed. The loss might have killed him if not for his unwavering will to live, despite having no fear of death. Knowing that he had completely ruined any chance of getting Soren to accept him as one of his own strong, able bodied progeny, Gareth gave up trying. He planned to go with the next riders that came to his band for candidates so that he could rise above his father instead of be under his heel for the rest of his life, but the end of the war shattered those notions. He thought his chances were gone, that he would never get out of the shadow of Soren, until word trickled back to his home village that a new leader had arisen over the shattered legion, that they sought only the strongest to be their citizens to rebuild what was lost. So the Legion wasn’t gone after all. Defeated perhaps, but he had been defeated a few times, but always rose back to his power. He knew he had a place under the new rule of the Tainted Empire and so packed his things and started off to present himself as a willing candidate for their cause. One day, if he’s lucky, he might be able to show himself to his father, a rider of one of the powerful creatures that first bade his warband to fight for the Legion and perhaps then he would be shown some respect. Pet(s)- An albino Samoyed(ish) cerberus. Named Morana after the Slavic goddess of winter and death due to her snow-white fur and chilly blue eyes. [align=center]The Dragon Love me or hate me I walk alone Been called a monster, called a demon, called a freak Called a Freak I'm not an idol, not an angel, not a saint I'm not a saint I walk alone, I always have, I'm not ashamed Not ashamed A living nightmare from the cradle to the grave ![]() ![]() Art by Sempermemor[/align] Name- Anaphylaxis Age- 2 1/2 years ((Hatchday April 1, 2013)) Gender- Female Element- Influenza [align=center]-Appearance- Portrait by me ![]() Crystal by Draconafin[/align] Anaphylaxis is, by Influenza standards, somewhat strange in appearance. While she boasts the same sickly green-grey scaling and pustule and vein ridden body, it is her size and unique head that makes her deviate from what is considered normal. Born a parasite to a Ruin hatchling with only one set of DNA from one Influenza parent, she is a creature of her father’s breed with some of the characteristics of the Ruin sibling which she was nurtured upon while she grew within the egg. Instead of the baggy-eyed and droopy-horned visage of her sire, her head and face are a hard mask of charcoal black in the shape of a raven’s skull. Ember bright red eyes sit within the sockets, blazing with her abject hatred and cold regard. Because of the added genes of her Ruin sibling, Anaphylaxis’s body is thicker boned than most Influenzas, making her look like less of a fragile twig. She is also on the larger end of the scale for her breed thanks to this extra piece of her sister. Regardless of all the things that have made her different, a true chimera of her kind, she is still an Influenza with the same diabolical need to breed filth and germs and test her creations on others. Her scales, rather than hard armor, are soft and leathery like those of a crocodile. While they offer just enough protection from most things, they also allow the veins and pustules that are common on Influenzas to grow on her body, making her a danger to so much as even touch. Her body, like any Inlfuenza, is a breeding ground for bacteria, viruses, and other biological assailants. She is no different when it comes to the scorn of her own faction and that of the enemy. Despite the thoughts even her own ‘allies’ have of her kind, Anaphylaxis does not sneak around the edges of the ranks, seeding manipulation and disease (though she’d love to seed disease wherever she could). Rather than trying to avoid scrutiny, this Influenza faces it head on, sometimes even to the point of causing trouble for the sake of causing trouble. She carries herself with her head held high and an air of complete unconcern with physical dangers surrounding her. That is not to say she’s stupid and will put herself in harms way, but she will stand up to something many times larger than her just to make a point or get their attention. It almost amuses her how terrified and disgusted her own faction is with her kind and its not above her to torment others just because of the reactions she gets out of them. Being small, she can flit away just in time if she manages to tick off someone larger than her too much. [align=center]-Personality-[/align] Undermining, Callous, Provocative Anaphylaxis is without a doubt a fireball of personality. She simply does not care about what is thought of her or who she offends, in fact, if she offends someone it’s all the more amusing. Perfectly willing to take on any creature in a battle of sass, she is not afraid to face down a dragon many times her own size to piss off. Also believing herself to be the pinnacle of awesome in every way, she’s perfectly happy letting everyone know it, including her rider. She’s the best there is with no argument. Even the Legion’s queen can’t hold a candle to her. She is viciously open and outspoken about her near perfection. After all, she’s a skilled breeder of deadly disease and shouldn’t be trifled with. The Inlfuenza is also completely undermining. She may be told to do one thing, with the desired outcomes in mind, but if she doesn’t agree with it, she simply won’t go with the plan. Doing her own thing so that shit gets done right the first time is more important to Anaphylaxis than flubbing about and making stupid avoidable mistakes. Most of the time her plans are the best anyway, so she can often be found taking her own routes to things, even if it means goading others to go along with her against the orders of an authority figure. Undermining her superiors and even her rider is something she barely considers worth getting bent out of shape over. It’s of very little concern to her if she doesn’t work as a cog in a precise machine, for she is her own effective method. On top of her fearless ability to start things just for the sake of starting them and go against orders just because they are stupid in her opinion, Anaphylaxis simply does not care. She has little time for whining and bellyaching and emotional turmoil is just an excuse for her to tell someone to get their head out of their ass and act like a damn grown up. She shows little pity for weakness or injury, even when circumstances make them unavoidable. Her rider can bitch and complain all he wants to about how terrible it is he bonded to a puny little female dragon, but it’s no excuse for him to sit around whining. He will get up and do what he came to the Tainted Legion to do, and Anaphylaxis will make sure of that. [align=center]-Hatching scene-[/align]
[align=center] Siblings by Ruin Yuurei Male Ruin Lapin Male Air Bete Noir Female Air Khossa Vole Female Chaos Bedlam by Air Kadrim Female Air Khossa Vole Female Chaos Bedlam Successful Experiments with Influenza Carcinoma/Bulkhead Sterka/Bulkhead Krakatoa Male Influenza Ambylomma Nieces/Nephews by Khossa Vole Male Bone Bisphosphonate Female Bone Garcharor by Chaos Bedlam Male Crystal Eleutherios [/align] User Information Username- Nherva Contact- PM or MSN Yourself- All the characterrrrs D; How did you find Sekkai? Just passed 2 year Sekkai Anniversaryyyyy ouo |
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| SemperMemor | Nov 6 2012, 10:05 PM Post #2 |
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Majestic Space Duck
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[align=center]Accepted[/align] |
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7:49 AM Jul 11