Post by ` T E A && biscuits on Sept 10, 2011 2:18:52 GMT -5
ashok || is played by
TEA, who's been roleplaying for nine years who is twenty years old.
[/size]TEA, who's been roleplaying for nine years who is twenty years old.
other charrehs ||
none yet.
♥ ♥ —————————————————————————— ♥ ♥
When no one's wearing their real face, it's a white-out of emotion,
And I've only got my brittle bones to break the fall.
What they call me is Ashok.
However I prefer Ashok.
I've lived this hell for three years.
I was born June 10th.
I still have soul even though I'm alive.
I'm a canine.
More specifically a grey wolf (70%) and siberian husky (30%) mix.
But I stand out from the rest because I'm a/an demon.
My alliances lie with no one, I'm a loner.
And my rank among them is the bringer of death.
♥ ♥ —————————————————————————— ♥ ♥
When the loving letters fade, it's like moving in slow-motion,
And we're already too late if we arrive at all
Ashok is a beastly, disgustingly appalling creature; his all noir appearance helps him blend with the darkness, but come day he is a sight like no other. A rather massive and impressively muscled wolf mutt, he carries all characteristic traits of a wolf and yet little of a siberian husky. The only marks that separates him from being slandered as a wolf is a light band above his eyes, much like the markings of a siberian husky, the markings are not so easily seen that most would mistaken him as a wolf any how. Ashok's build is quite brawny, not like a sleek wolf at all, which plays into affect on speed; but what he makes up in speed is size and power. His entire body is entwined with power, his menacing visage is quite intimidating, and his teeth are long and sharp; the whites just begging to be stained with cold red blood.
His eyes are like sun and day, another bizarre feature inherited from his mutt mother; as one eyes is blue and the other golden like the harvest moon. However, Ashok's blue eye is mostly closed for it was nearly gouged out when he was a fledgeling, fresh with the desire for bloodshed and not an ounce of wisdom. The poor fool nearly went blind in that eye but Lady Luck must be dealing her cards in favor of him, because he was able to keep his eye and sight, but the scared flesh that healed shut has created a difficult task in opening; and thus Ashok has become accustomed to needing little use for such a lame eye. His body is laden with scars and it is more than obvious that he gets into many fights; aside from the massive scar across his eye, there is another star shaped one on his chest, so deep and large that the hair has ceased to grow over it. Ashok looks like a lost, beaten, old sod, but he is far from it; a true warrior just waiting for a dull moment to cease and to live anew.
♥ ♥ —————————————————————————— ♥ ♥
And then we're caught up in the arms race on involuntary addiction,
And we're shedding every value our mothers taught.
Contrary to popular belief, Ashok isn't the typical cynical sod most would believe. What with his appearance and all; but no, he is quite bland. He neither gets upset or sad, his emotions are always locked and hardly ever shown. Many would come to believe that he is not alive, or mentally well for that matter. He is . . . Alive and mentally disturbed.
Ashok cares not for others nor for his own selfish gain but does see the potential in being selfish and only looking out for himself. Being a demon he usually keeps only to himself and his well being, aside from a few nice fun experimenting around with killing other mutts, dogs and wolves alike with these bizarre capabilities he's found himself with, Ashok is quite, sadly so, bland. Most would suggest he has no personality, soul, or what have you; of course he does indulge in the adrenaline rush of watching the blood flow and gush from corpses or the living. But that doesn't quite tickle his funny bone, if he ever had one. No, Ashok is living for the moment more or less, he'd rather spend his days enjoying what he feels like enjoying for that moment.
Be it killing dogs or hunting for sport; his mind wanders else where and his body just follows. This is a wolf mutt that knows not a care in the world, even if it were for his own personal gain.
♥ ♥ —————————————————————————— ♥ ♥
When I thought that I fought this war alone, you were there by my side, on the front line.
And we thought to believe the impossible.
I'm the strongest at killing.
Though you may win at left side of him, his left eye is usually closed.
Some of my personal fancies are nothing.
Though I hate nothing.
Keep that shit away from me! Thyself.
Password [admin edit]
♥ ♥ —————————————————————————— ♥ ♥
When I thought that I fought this war alone, we were one with our destinies entwined.
When I thought that I fought without a cause, you gave me a reason why.
When will the blood stop flowing?
It's so crimson.
So tasty.
Smells of sweet metal and sweat.
Why can't I stop this feeling?
A dark four-legged figure rose from the dark abyss of his dreams. The creature was like no other, massive and rippling with muscles so taut and intimidating; the beast felt the last trickles of rain drops dot his oily pelt. When was his last bath? Or the last time he lapped up fresh water? The four-legged being stood, his heavy posture forcing him to hunch and hang his head low. Even his tongue was black as it lapped up the pool of water caught in a dirt hole.
It wasn't fresh but quenched his palette, he licked his noir lips and raised his head to the air. Nostrils flared as he took in the lightly chilled morning breeze, his shelter at the moment was an abandoned steel mill. The building rusting and slowly decaying, much like everything else out there, beyond the unmaintained walls lay corpses; rotting and some eating others. Yes, they walked, they breathed, and they would eat him too if he didn't already do his lazy best in avoiding them.
But never mind the dead, he breathed in the fresh air for life . . . Blood pumping life, something to sink his white fangs in and feast his fill. It had been four days since his last hunt and food was becoming quite annoying to pursue, what with his bulky body and no assistance, he had to rely on the city's unforgiving maze to corner prey and slaughter them. But the smell of blood always attracted them or others. Which his black monster didn't mind, others were just as tasty as his normal hunts and even tastier when filled with junk. Dog food was a rare delicacy with these mutts running around, and most of the pompous toy dogs are too useless anyway.
He usually finds the tiny ones good sport to end his boredom, they always quiver with fear and run yelping, they taste better in his stomach but just the thought of a hot juicy meal left his palette salivating with starvation.
With one last whiff of air, he started on his journey, toward the inner workings of the city to find food. Even if it wasn't a fresh hot meal at least he could rummage the garbage and whatever surviving humans hadn't eaten he'd take for himself. He sure wasn't picky when it came to meals, probably why he's so large. But his knees are starting to feel the down fall of eating useless junk most days, with all the pounds of muscle piling up it's becoming quite the exercise to move around these days. Two years ago he wasn't this large but, then again he wasn't this powerful either; maybe feeding the power hungry ego?
Possibly.
Listen.
He stopped and dropped low to the ground, quite and steady as he felt the dirt lay cool to his belly. His nose wet and dirty as he slowed his breathing, the sound of hoofed steps perking his attention. Maybe a nice hot meal wasn't so far from his grasp after all. He continued to wait, the hooves continuing to crush grass and earth, a snout breathing heavily as it grazed. Without taking a look to make sure it was prey, he leaped forward and reflexively clawed and bit down on flesh. It was a large buck, half his size but he was quite large himself and could probably make it out alive with little to worry about. Unfortunately for him, he had bitten into the buck's shoulder and his upper body was on top of the buck.
The buck swung around and used hoof and antler to try to pierce and gouge the hunter, it made desperate noises as he continued to sink his fangs into the buck. Finally, and antler pierced his side and he slightly winced, released the buck and charged again. Blood dripping from his punctured side as the massive black wolf mutt closed his jaws on the buck's snout. Wailing, the buck tried to fling and dig his hooves into the black hunter, which did little to damage him.
After a long tussle, the victor was obvious as the black wolf was stained in crimson, his unsuspecting prey filling his belly with warm liquid and fresh meat. He ate his fill and then buried it, sauntering back to his shelter, he started lick himself clean, then rolled in dirt and decided to patrol the area. Nothing was around, the sun was high and the clouds had drawn near once again, the sky looked as though it would give way to tears and he did nothing but sit there and watch as the first drops of sadness drenched the land yet again. Why does the sky cry? He thought staring into the gray light as the spikes of chilled water cloak the land and the moans of the undead groaning in the distance, making dreadful music. This is his home, and his hell.
It's so crimson.
So tasty.
Smells of sweet metal and sweat.
Why can't I stop this feeling?
A dark four-legged figure rose from the dark abyss of his dreams. The creature was like no other, massive and rippling with muscles so taut and intimidating; the beast felt the last trickles of rain drops dot his oily pelt. When was his last bath? Or the last time he lapped up fresh water? The four-legged being stood, his heavy posture forcing him to hunch and hang his head low. Even his tongue was black as it lapped up the pool of water caught in a dirt hole.
It wasn't fresh but quenched his palette, he licked his noir lips and raised his head to the air. Nostrils flared as he took in the lightly chilled morning breeze, his shelter at the moment was an abandoned steel mill. The building rusting and slowly decaying, much like everything else out there, beyond the unmaintained walls lay corpses; rotting and some eating others. Yes, they walked, they breathed, and they would eat him too if he didn't already do his lazy best in avoiding them.
But never mind the dead, he breathed in the fresh air for life . . . Blood pumping life, something to sink his white fangs in and feast his fill. It had been four days since his last hunt and food was becoming quite annoying to pursue, what with his bulky body and no assistance, he had to rely on the city's unforgiving maze to corner prey and slaughter them. But the smell of blood always attracted them or others. Which his black monster didn't mind, others were just as tasty as his normal hunts and even tastier when filled with junk. Dog food was a rare delicacy with these mutts running around, and most of the pompous toy dogs are too useless anyway.
He usually finds the tiny ones good sport to end his boredom, they always quiver with fear and run yelping, they taste better in his stomach but just the thought of a hot juicy meal left his palette salivating with starvation.
With one last whiff of air, he started on his journey, toward the inner workings of the city to find food. Even if it wasn't a fresh hot meal at least he could rummage the garbage and whatever surviving humans hadn't eaten he'd take for himself. He sure wasn't picky when it came to meals, probably why he's so large. But his knees are starting to feel the down fall of eating useless junk most days, with all the pounds of muscle piling up it's becoming quite the exercise to move around these days. Two years ago he wasn't this large but, then again he wasn't this powerful either; maybe feeding the power hungry ego?
Possibly.
Listen.
He stopped and dropped low to the ground, quite and steady as he felt the dirt lay cool to his belly. His nose wet and dirty as he slowed his breathing, the sound of hoofed steps perking his attention. Maybe a nice hot meal wasn't so far from his grasp after all. He continued to wait, the hooves continuing to crush grass and earth, a snout breathing heavily as it grazed. Without taking a look to make sure it was prey, he leaped forward and reflexively clawed and bit down on flesh. It was a large buck, half his size but he was quite large himself and could probably make it out alive with little to worry about. Unfortunately for him, he had bitten into the buck's shoulder and his upper body was on top of the buck.
The buck swung around and used hoof and antler to try to pierce and gouge the hunter, it made desperate noises as he continued to sink his fangs into the buck. Finally, and antler pierced his side and he slightly winced, released the buck and charged again. Blood dripping from his punctured side as the massive black wolf mutt closed his jaws on the buck's snout. Wailing, the buck tried to fling and dig his hooves into the black hunter, which did little to damage him.
After a long tussle, the victor was obvious as the black wolf was stained in crimson, his unsuspecting prey filling his belly with warm liquid and fresh meat. He ate his fill and then buried it, sauntering back to his shelter, he started lick himself clean, then rolled in dirt and decided to patrol the area. Nothing was around, the sun was high and the clouds had drawn near once again, the sky looked as though it would give way to tears and he did nothing but sit there and watch as the first drops of sadness drenched the land yet again. Why does the sky cry? He thought staring into the gray light as the spikes of chilled water cloak the land and the moans of the undead groaning in the distance, making dreadful music. This is his home, and his hell.
