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Posted 2020-10-16 22:58:51 (edited)
Rules Glykós Íchos Roles Form |
 Anarch ★ #2943 |
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Posted 2020-10-17 16:16:56 (edited)
"Look me in the eye. I'm the only thing you should be afraid of." |
Anarch ★ #2943 |
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Posted 2020-10-19 21:22:14 (edited)
Current WIP.
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 West #7266 |
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Posted 2020-10-19 22:13:14 (edited)
Name: Pearla Being sensitive to judgement and rough nature turned her away from being a normal Lambda in the pack. Her paw's agility and willingness to help had already made her a great candidate to be an Eta. She is very knowledgeable with herbs and strangely works well under pressure when it comes to other wolves injury. It is very hard to make her mad, but its pretty easy to make her upset. If a wolf is generally nice and welcoming, she will gladly reciprocate the feelings back, but when treated with rudeness and unapproachability she will mainly try to avoid. As much as she tries to avoid being judgmental, scary looks and voices will chase her away. Appearance: [See picture above for fur pattern] Being the runt of the litter she always ended up being smaller than usual. After quitting normal training, her build is more slimmer and smaller compared to most wolves. She tries to keep her fur neat but always ends up with a leaf or two stuck on her pelt. Being a Eta, she doesn't have any scars, keeping her body nearly unblemished. She does have a small nick on her ear which game from an unfortunate game of prey and predator she played as a pup. History: She grew up quite normally in a family. Besides being smaller than most, she played and got a long quite nicely. When it came to training however, she always struggled. Her smaller size had made it difficult for her to fight and hunt. Such trouble could lead her to her death, so she quit trying to become a Lambda and followed the paths of the Eta. Being an Eta appealed to her so much more either way. From then on she picked up spiritual folklore and medicinal knowledge. This led to her becoming a sympathetic kind healer. |
 Envy007 #15979 |
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Posted 2020-10-20 04:37:04 (edited)
Name: Mika Age: 5 years 2 months Gender: Male Orientation: Bisexual Rank: Lambda Mika is fiercely ambitious with everything he does and often tires himself out when trying to make sure everything is done, wolves are fed and things are safe. He refuses to sleep or eat unless it is safe and everyone else has also done so. Mika, like everyone else, tries his best with everything that is going on. Sometimes things work out, other times they do not. He doesn’t blame himself but can grow frustrated; causing him to become frustrated and irritable. This has only increased as everything became unbalanced. Before, he was typically seen as a very calm and down to earth wolf. Appearance: Mika is a heavy and larger than the average wolf, standing at 33 inches from his shoulder and being 6.7 feet from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail. Mika is most notably burly with a large stomach and round cheeks. His ears are comically smaller than the rest of his face and follow the theme of roundness. Opposite to tiny ears is a large black nose. Perhaps the only striking feature of Mika is his green eyes—the right, however, is now clouded over with low visibility following an attack from another wolf and leaving it scarred.His coat, thick and forcing the ever large male to appear even bigger, forms a mane of fluff around his neck. It continues its long length across his stomach and over the back of his hind legs and tail. His paws match appropriately to his size and match the dark cherry underside of his in a sock-like pattern. Colouration wise, the wolf is primarily differing shades of brown; agouti-like in patterning across his back. He has dark cherry undersides, muzzle, and ears. In some lights the brown may have an orange tint. Relationships: Open for friendships, crushes as well as mates, message me. Gypsy - Mother - Deceased Fenir - Father - Deceased Rowan - Adopted son - Alive History: Mika was born within the pack, he has had a few slips but enjoys the life he has and will continue to be loyal to the core.
Name: Ornate Age: 6 years Gender: Female Orientation: Bisexual Rank: Loner Personality: Ore is a driven female who has a calm nature, yet also a fire hidden behind every decision she makes. Intelligent and wise, the female is well-suited for the role of a beta. She is known to end more fights than cause them, and holds a brightness that spreads wherever she goes. Within, she is not a battler. She despises fights and wars and enjoys peace. The serenity and calmness of it soothes her nerves. Her love for peace doesn't mean she doesn't fight. No, Ornate is quite vicious in battles, often standing over her defeated opponent without a hint of blood on her. However, just because she fights doesn't mean she likes it. Never will one see her fight without a reason, and even if there were one, she would prefer talking it out. Nothing more, nothing less. Very opinionated, Ornate will speak up about certain issues and tends to solve them in ways that everybody could be happy. Intelligence is also on her side, allowing her to assess situations and solve them in mere milliseconds. Her judgment is extraordinarily advanced, and with a single look, she can decipher whether something will work out or not. Ornate longed to grow higher in ranks for one motive only: to ensure the pack thrives and survives exceptionally well. She cares not about herself when it comes to them, and wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice herself in battles. She is an easily trustable canine, one that holds a deep love for each wolf she knows. Able to find the good in all, Ornate knows what makes certain wolves so special, and often tells them to boost their happiness or if they're feeling down. Despite her past, she is not one easily spoken down upon. Ornate enjoys respect and order, and simply because she's kinder than most doesn't mean she can't be as vicious. Many understimate her for her persona, something that nobody should do. Not unless they'd like to meet the darker side of her. Appearance: A tall-statured indvidual, Ornate, or Ore, for short, is a dame that has a sinewy yet muscular frame. Her pelt matches that of her name, as does her walk, for everything about her seems elegant and equally haunting. With a pelage as white as snow, it may appear blinding to the mere eye if stared at for too long. Ore has brown eyes. Eyes that are calm, yet also hold fire behind them. Her body is a canvas for others to paint on with scars, thus, why some litter her physique. However, most are masked behind the length and thickness of her long fur, which seems to flow, even if no breeze is present. Relationships: Friendship, Family, crushes and mates all open, message me. |
Opal Fruits #7956 |
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Posted 2020-10-20 06:07:52 (edited)
Name: Chai History: Chai was the typical wolf pup who grew up to two loving parents. Her puphood was good and she became a agile hunter. She fell in love with another member of the pack Kaine and pursued a relationship with him. The day she found out she was pregnant with his pups. Kaine was killed by a hunter on a hunting trip. Leaving Chai heartbroken and grieving her mate. But in a short few months two pups one looking more like Kaine and one a mix of them both were born into the world. Other: Open to friends and crushes
Name: Fern History: Other: Open to friends and crushes
Name: Codex
Gender: Male History: Other: Open to friends and crushes |
Stream #9462 |
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Posted 2020-10-20 11:52:55 (edited)
"The music is still playing, but I'm not dancing anymore." [img credit, edited slightly] Basics
Personality Cold | Conservative | Critical | Detached | Grumpy | Logical | Prideful At one point, Malmok's bite was far worse than his bark, but not anymore. Once a great warrior, the old man now relies on his biting words rather than fangs or claws. He's grown bitter and weary, having fought more battles than he should for longer than anyone thought he could. Some think his bitterness comes from feeling useless, others say he was always like this and no one really paid any heed. Regardless, he's a lonely, angry wolf with little patience for games. As a result, he has quite a reputation as a mean old geezer among the pups. And yet, under all the growling and guffawing, Malmok is frustrated. The old man lives in near-constant pain from old wounds, which leave him snarling and frustrated to just about anyone he encounters. Pride keeps him from seeking help from a healer or herbalist, and the pain keeps him from finding companions. Mostly Malmok keeps to himself but will offer his opinion when no one asks... Especially when it comes to the problem with the felines. Appearance Just under 3ft Tall | Scraggly | Scarred Older generations saw Malmok in all his glory; pale fur with no true markings and amber eyes bright as the midday sun. He had been large for his age, and strong for his size. He was muscular, with short fur that seemed to accentuate his build and lend credence to his bad-boy attitude. At one point, he was an intimidating sight to behold. Not anymore. His once snow-like fur is now a more dusty colour and has grown ratty and unkempt from lack of proper grooming. Scars litter his body. For the most part, the scars and nicks are hidden by his fur, but a considerable cut in his left ear several dark scars on his hind legs stand out. Malmok walks with a heavy limp, leaving him unable to sprint and run as he once did. His eyes are the only part of him that maintains his old fire - they're still alive and burning with the drive to live.
[Open to crushes, friends, mates, rivals, family members... Really anything! Message me on OOC.] No Living Relatives. History The north is a harsh, unforgiving place to live. Little food, poor to no shelter, and the threat of rival wolves and felines alike. It is the breeding ground of monsters and the birthplace of brotherhood. It was in the cold wastelands that Malmok took his first shaky steps. It was there that he would lose everything. Malmok started life as the apple of his parent's eye. He was the only pup of his litter and thrived from the attention they showered on him. With several agemates from other mated pairs, he grew with a strong sense of family and camaraderie. Strong of will and body, he seemed perfect to carry on in his mother's pawprints to lead the next generation. As he grew, so did his propensity for battling with other wolves. At first, it was just puppyish play but in time his training was taken much more seriously. Malmok became bigger and stronger than his other agemates, and even older wolves. A haughty young creature, he was bold in his decisions, never second-guessing himself or backing down from his decisions. To this day, he blames himself for his pack's downfall. He was young and headstrong, wanting to prove himself to the elders in his pack. There were rumours of a vicious band of rogues nearby, and Malmok volunteered himself and his agemates to take them down a peg. He was the strongest of his pack. He thought he was prepared. He wasn't. Malmok survived the attack, but his agemates weren't nearly as lucky. During the fighting, Malmok was knocked unconscious by one of the rogues and left for dead. His band of young warriors were killed, and their scent followed back to Malmok's home pack. The breeding age wolves were killed, as were the pups. The elders were crippled or nearly dead, herded to the edge of what once was their territory. It would be days before Malmok found the survivors, too weak to hunt and some dying of infections. He hunted small game for them and tried his best to tend to their wounds, but without anyone with healing experience, few were left by the end of the season. The remainder of Malmok's youth was spent caring for the remnants of his birth pack, hunting for them and defending them the best he could. In time, it was only he who remained. He was already older by then, nearing seven and without a mate or family to call his own. The north was too harsh on his old bones, and he began wandering south. All that he knew was keeping himself alive, but that was growing harder as the years wore on. His bones ached, his muscles weren't nearly as strong as before. Bu the time he was reaching nine years old, he knew that he would never survive on his own. After years of wandering, surviving but hardly living, he came across the Glykós Íchos pack. It was a hard choice, but the old man swallowed his pride and bared his belly to these new wolves. With luck, this would be a good place to live. With luck, it would be a good place to die. |
 Minnow (Lights On!) #7256 |
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Posted 2020-10-20 16:08:14 (edited)
Name: Bellona Rose Relationships: N/A |
Elizabeth-Star #538 |
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Posted 2020-10-20 19:15:12 (edited)
“I am a doctor darling, who used to operate. But I couldn't stand the pain of healing only t'watch another woman waste away.” Name: Greyson Age: 3 Years, 11 Months Gender: Male Orientation: Demisexual, Biromantic “I like beauty, smarts and talent but that order’s alphabetic.” Rank: Loner/Rogue Personality: “I was born a charming man with silver tongue, pearl teeth.” Smooth, intelligent and a hopeless, hopeless romantic. Greyson’s been trained up from birth to be quick witted and cunning and that has led to a wolf who talks with a lilt in his voice that, to some, conjures up the image of a conman, and to others the charm of a gentleman. Though these days his intentions are more like that of the latter, he could never seem to train himself out of lining his words with double meaning. Greyson flirts, seemingly with any wolf that shows the faintest of interest, and this has led to more than one incident of an angry lover not taking too kindly to his words. Whether he actually intends to follow through on his words is an entirely different matter. Though he may chat up many, he never seems to take it much further than playful flirtatiousness. He also backs off immediately at the first sign of distaste, as the game is no fun to him unless both parties are playing. Taught from a young age to never let others close, despite having a good working relationship with the packs he comes across, Greyson doesn’t seem to have any friends. At the onset of anything more, he will move on, not allowing himself to develop attachments to anyone whether it be platonic or romantic. Without his family, Greyson’s found the rogue life cripplingly lonely, but he can’t stop himself looking at everyone with caution and distrust. Appearance: “Working hard, feeling tense, worrying about my fashion sense.” An exceptionally tall male with most of that length being relegated to the leg region. Though large and decently muscled, Greyson is lean, built like a runner with not much in the way of bulk. He’s not weak, and perfectly capable of defending himself should the situation come to it, but he’d much prefer to run away from tense situations and those long legs of his can carry him at impressive speeds. Greyson puts much emphasis on his appearance and can’t stand having his coat unkempt. He’ll spend hours picking twigs out of his coat if need be, and has done so, and insists on keeping up a professional appearance when meeting pack-wolves. His fur is a greyish slate blue in colour, mostly uniform with small areas of lighter undertone. His thick coat and meticulous grooming habits help to hide the many scars that mar his skin from his less friendly encounters with wolfkind. The only obvious scar would be a small nick in his right ear that he earned in his youth and continues to distress him to this day. His eyes, like his name suggests, are a colourless near-white grey. Relationships: “Father was a charming man with much hidden up his sleeve.” Sire :: Zidane [Deceased] Siblings ::
Everything else is open for past relationships except friends are few and far between. Future relationships all open. History: “The tragic flaw of charming men is exactly as it seems. Too much grease can break down a machine.” Born to a pair of merchant parents with less than ethical means of acquiring wares, Zidane and Tahlia were a young couple who despite their age, had amassed significant wealth. They got this wealth through interactions with pack wolves. Zidane was an ever charming man who could smoothly talk his way out of any situation and Tahlia’s negotiation skills were second to none. They’d grow close to the alpha and other high ranking members, just enough to be up for consideration as pack members before one morning, the pack would wake up to find their storages completely cleaned out. Zidane and Tahlia made many enemies this way, thus they never stayed in one location for very long. To buffer the uptick in enemies, they formed alliances with larger packs, trading and gifting rare items and charming pack members into protecting them. Life was a game to the two of them, Zidane showering his mate with rare bones and jewelry to adorn her perfect frame and Tahlia one-upping him by whispering the name of what big-time alpha she’d managed to get belly up and fawning at her feet. Eventually, they decided it was time to expand their little operation. Tahlia gave birth to three cute little brothers that the couple fawned over and spoiled. Greyson was the middle child, not large and imposing like his older brother nor brilliantly minded like his younger, but Greyson had inherited a handsome face and a lyrical way with words that rounded out the team. As soon as they were old enough, the couple trained up their son to follow in their con-artist footsteps. As a team of five, the family was as formidable as ever. With more numbers and muscle they were able to haul more items and spread their plans over larger areas. In this time, Greyson was taught to only see other wolves outside of their family as marks. That no one would ever care for him as much as his family would and that pack wolves were to be used- that because of his loner lineage he would never be allowed into that lifestyle. As they moved their way north, eventually the family began to encounter primal cats. Though at first they treated them as another predator on the landscape to be avoided, Tahlia began to note that they could, in fact, speak with wolves. This gave Zidane the idea to start bringing feline kind into their circles, much to his wife’s hesitation. This was the family’s downfall. Where wolves could be reasoned with, could negotiate and understand the parents’ proposals, the cats had no such ability. They took the wolves’ jokes for insults, grew aggravated at the thought of giving their food to these stupid canines, did not understand what exchange meant or what these wolves were on about. By the time Zidane realised that there was no way they could get far with these cats, Giles was dead on the ground. The primal cats had surrounded them and began attacking the remaining wolves, Greyson’s younger brother falling soon after and his father, head between the jaws of another cat, had the last remnants of life crushed out of him. Greyson, frozen to the spot, would have been next if his mother hadn’t pushed him away, yelled at him to run. He saw a gap in the circle and took off as fast as his paws could carry him, he always was the fastest in the family and he didn’t stop running until the roars of the cats were distant in his ears. He found a spot where his family had hidden some of their belongings, and waited for his mother’s return. He left the den when he realised he was truly alone. With nowhere left to go, he’s decided to travel to the unexplored territory of the north, for the first time in his life without any plan of what to do next. Other: Referenced songs:: The Wondersmith and His Sons - Astronautalis |
 Jato #1616 |
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Posted 2020-10-20 20:05:09 (edited)
“Don't be shy. I won't bite.” Name: Malus. ALPHA - Layto |
Anarch ★ #2943 |
