Post by Ilyich on May 26, 2011 11:55:46 GMT -8
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true] [atrb=style, background-color: #423c42;,true][cs=2][style=background-image: url('http://i1027.photobucket.com/albums/y334/IlyichCenin/Decorated%20images/9Y6D1992.jpg'); width: 500px; height: 250px; border: #fff 1px dashed;] [/style][style=font-family: times; text-align: center; letter-spacing: -2px; font-size: 30px; color: #eef4f0;]& Paradox `[/style][style=font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align:justify; width: 620px; line-height: 8px; color: #d2c9c6;]WE AINT EVER GONNA WIN BUT IT DON'T MEAN WE CAN'T TRY IT'S A LOSING BATTLE ALL THE WAY BUT IT'S WORTH THE CRY - - - - [/style] | |
| [atrb=width,440][style=margin-top: -10px; margin-right: -10px; border: #fff 1px dashed; padding: 5px; overflow: auto; width: 450px; height: 200px; font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 9px; line-height: 10px; background-color: #eaf0ec; color:#423c42;] AINT NO ROSES TO SEND ME TO THE MORGUE Pack Canopus Rank Protector Gender Male Age 4 years MAYBE DEAR YOUR COLORS DON'T SHOW Fur Color Brown with a black front and legs Eye Color Pale winter blue Scars Thin lateral pattern across top of hips. Smaller less visible scars around muzzle, chest and ears. Appearance Don't look it in the eye, not those iron hard walls of blue. Unholy in all his extremes. Don't look the snake in the face, not that black masked face. Blackness overtakes his chest, covering his heart and soul in its inky waves of brush strokes. Don't look at the brown casing the rest of his form, its just a wooden hood. Just a way to hide a broken soul. He's a devil they scream! A devil with nothing left. Don't watch as he shambles past on his broken limbs. Don't watch as he turns what should be a beggars face away in disdain. Don't look at the pain he shows! Don't look! He isn't allowed to feel it, after all he did it! That dark painted figure is the snake that led eve to the apple. AND YET IT ISN'T A SIN TO KILL THOSE YOU LOVE Power Type Spiritual Power Branch Converse with ghosts Personality He is sick. Sick of trying to pretend. Sick of playing the game. So he cheats. With a neat little flick he sends his emotions away. He doesn't care, manly because he has better things to focus on. Things of much greater importance then playing the game others stepped so carefully around. His heart means little to him, besides being the burning thing that sent him to murder. The only thing that matters to him is being him. Pleasing others is a thing he will never do.Why should he care what they think? He would happily go about life without seeing a single soul for the rest of its days if it didn't mean his untimely demise. Distraction is a thing that is no existent in his eyes. He dreams. He dreams of days when he won't have to destroy any longer. He dreams of the day he can finally tell himself that his beloved was avenged. The day he can finally complete the circle of sin by flinging himself into the grotto the original sinners walked until he killed them. But mostly he dreams of her. Of his beloved. Of his little bird. The woman who wove him in a blanket of comfort and hid him from their hate. The angel who took the snake into her heart and warmed his soul. How he misses her. How he prays she will visit him in the cell that is surly saved for him in hell. How he yearns for her, for the comfort that she gave him, for the warmth that she spread. Oh dear Devoid. Oh dear dear little sparrow. But she remains with him. A soft shadow of a spirit clutched to his side. He is far too obsessed to let her go. His emotions are a thing left trampled in the dust, and only anger remains. Possession is a thing he holds dear now. The spirit is a thing he converses with openly and with out trepidation. Let them think him mad, it only makes his goal easier. Wolves don't expect such atrocities from an innocent crazed boy. He can see her and she can speak to him. That is all that matters. He knows his hatred. He can feel it flickering inside himself. But he would not show it. Dead emotion makes up his shell. Broken and hobbled like a zombie slumping along with only one purpose. But his mind is no shell. It is a ball of lava trapped in an empty hull. He burns on the inside, though he would never let anyone know it. He has known the hatred of others for far too long to let them see his true form. They see only a brown lupe with curiously little to say. But he knows how much he hates. He knows how he will never let anything go. Paradox is sure they will all die under his fangs, but he is also sure that he will die as well. He started this. He killed her, and in the big picture he did. Self hatred runs unbounded in his head, and it only makes the flames boil. But they will never know. He will never let them know. And if they found out he would kill them. Despite this and its heavy weights flung taunt about his neck he is a good loyal man. Those that can tame what monster huddles in his form become creatures with nothing to fear. His loyalty is an iron gun loaded and aimed at his friend's enemies. His pack is a shield and Paradox recognizes that such a thing must be oiled and cared for. He works with military heed. Powerful in strategy and cruel in function. War is not a thing he enjoys. Its bloody upheaval is something that he finds revolting. Such things should be kept small in compos. Enjoyable and not exhausting in their scope. Preferences Likes * Control * Strategy * Intelligence * Ambition * Myths * Focus * Work * Details Dislikes * Helplessness * Head-on attacks * Stupidity * Weak hearts * Lies * Lethargic animals Strengths/Weaknesses Strengths * Speed * Fangs * Intelligence * Work Ethic * Determination * Focus * Perception * Very Good Liar Weakness * Obsessive * Possessive * Inability to empathize * Selfish * Crude * Lean build * Psychotic * Inability to rationalize certain things * Devoid HOW IS THERE A PAST IF NO ONE REMEMBERS NO MORE Family Parted ways with mother and father a wile back. Two brothers by the names of Syntax and Ellipses have yet to be found dead or alive. Regrets So many things. why couldn't he care for his mum properly? Why couldn't he care for Devoid properly? Hell why did he end up being the death of everyone remotely close to him? Secret Ambitions End his blood feud. Destroy those he sees as traitors and either commit a silent suicide or live with his knowledge until some revenge seeker tries to kill him. History Snake slithering from a dream. Children born to wolves who should never have mated. There is too much space between alphas and omegas. It isn't right. Isn't pure. Those three would never be anything but snakes in a birds nest. Monsters birthed by a weakling. Sikla mother! Who ever heard of such a thing? And yet and yet! The viper rose, named Coal after the darkness that hung him like a noose about his throat. And how dare they! How dare they let these monsters into the world, whatever are we to do but punish them? All of them. Taunt and snap. Don't let them live peacefully. There is no peace. But they grew, those snakes. They began to twist and slither into life. How dare they! How dare they! And then the one named Coal dared to pretend to love. How could a snake love! They wouldn't let him, especially not when they all wanted to love the female the viper sniffed at. How dare he! No snake would be allowed to touch Devoid! Devoid would be an alphess one day, and that viper wasn't allowed to touch such a beautiful being. The broke him and pressed him back. But Devoid did what they never expected. She sniffed at the vipers jaw and led him away from his earned torment. And she looked at them with hate! It was obvious the snake had broken into her brain and controlled it somehow. You see sometimes people should stay in the hole they crawled out of. The monsters who dare try to crawl from there pain should be flung back to their pit. His iron hard stare is broken, isn't that enough? She died, died at the fangs of a bandit. A bandit that ran to tell the world the oddity that was Coal had killed the woman of their dreams. He was a devil, they shrieked. A traitor. Tyrant to be killed! He kidnapped her to begin with they whispered. Jaded fool. He stooped over the body when they came, his face marked with tears and blood. Crying over his sin, they supposed. Horror wrath. There was no emotion in his eyes, after all. What sort of male wouldn't look hurt in the least about the death of such a beauty? The one who killed her obviously. Killer. Murderer. Monster. That's what she earned for picking a viper as her mate. She was bitten, and the poison turned her into a sunken skeleton of carrion. But this was good. The snake never fought back without his doe by his side. He never did! They could kill him now, no trial for him- the body was evidence enough. But he fought back! Swift as anything that viper snapped at them. He poisoned them to, sinking fangs into their throats as he screamed. It wasn't animal, that shriek. It was the call of the devil as he flung himself through heavens gates. Only a few of them got away. He went mad! Mad! A trial wouldn't happen now. Now they where lucky to find more folami the human masters had released to slide amongst. They would join up under this new rank and file! Yes! There was no tainted blood here, no pit of snakes. But they forgot. They forgot how sharp a snakes hate can be. They underestimated the expanse of his hate, and the levels of sin he would willingly skip across to sink his fangs into their souls. He wouldn't let them live, the snake. The viper would follow them. He remembered far back when he still pretended to be okay, his mother had told him something. You can not let them win. So he wouldn't. They wouldn't win. they killed his beloved. And he would kill them. One by one. He would pick them out with the silent intensity of any serial killer. He renamed himself. The wolf that hunted his own kind. He was a paradox. A thing going against nature. He had lost his instincts a long time ago. He was a monster,a viper hanging from a tree branch a tempting apple near his head. Come take it, the bait. Touch it, bite it and feel the pin prick of his fangs at your throat. A calm kiss. And then a cold death. He wanders, the monster. Wanders about the world, refusing to touch the creatures around him. He wouldn't waste his energy on his 'brothers' war. He wasn't a wolf anymore. He was a serial killer. A cannibal. A monster with a vendetta against the living who tormented the dead. And he would find them. He would play their pretty little game of death and woe and tear them all to shreds. But every game has its cover, and every beggar his hood. A sham of duty drug over the ears of a monster. Under Canopus rule the boy finds himself open to duty. It is to be expected. He is a military man. His goal is merely as deep as his glut for revenge. His pack lay deep in his mind in the form of another game. A strategies game. At the current time the snake holds no real care for them or their petty fights. He will do as he is told for the sake of himself. his games can't be ruined quiet so easily hidden away as he is. LISTEN HIGH LISTEN LOW IF YOU'RE A GENIE LET IT SHOW BUT WISHES AINT WITH US NO MORE JUST ANOTHER URBAN LEGEND WE'LL NEVER EVER KNOW [/style] | [atrb=width,140][style=margin-top: -10px; border: #fff 1px dashed; padding: 5px; overflow: auto; width: 140px; height: 200px; font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 9px; line-height: 10px; background-color: #eaf0ec; color:#423c42; text-align:center;] status , Done amazingness , Urm... 5 notes , "I can see through you. Inside your ugly. Ugly like me" [/style] |
| [cs=2][style=margin-top: -10px; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 9px; text-align:center; color:#eef4f0; letter-spacing:1px;]TEMPLATE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING OF CAUTION 2.0[/style] |
