Welcome to planet Dash, a place unlike any other ever witnessed before, a place where three main species rule supreme, the winged, the spiked, and the outcasts. On planet Dash, wolves are not just wolves such as the familiar gray wolf, or even the red wolf. Wolves here are supreem, different, mutated and caught in a grand bet between two gods, Sly and Bold. Join our numbers and maybe you will be the one who tips the balance of power and starts the long-awaited war.
Please be sure to visit our important links, which can be found in our drop-down menu below.
Year One
Summer
Average Temp.: 88* F
Weather: Hot days, warm nights. Afternoon storms almost every day. Watch out for floods.
Breeding: No
Birthing: Yes
Year: 1
Congratulations to Minkh for member of the month! Due to her desire to be a part of this board and give advice and tips where my eye faltered, she has earned member of the month! Not to mention she has decided to open an Art Studio, which deserves credit alone. Art takes time, and Minkh has decided to offer it to us! Give her a pat on the back!
COTM
Congratulations to Kratos for character of the month! This character has taken on quite a challenge as a new alpha, especially dealing with all the pack members at once. This character obviously has the skills he needs to be a great alpha. We can't wait to see what you do with your large pack, Kratos!
Name: Kratos Age: 3 - Autumn Born ---Year entered into pack: 1 ---Season entered into pack: Spring Species: Arcanic Gender: Male Eye color: Deep golden Main pelt color: A mixture of grays and browns. Secondary pelt color(if any): White, Black Markings: Vein, or crack-like black lines that are scattered all over his body seeming in random areas. His wings have the same thing, only inverted. Wings are black, and the cracks are white. Past: He was born into an awkward world--he had no pack, and was raised by a psychotic mother who'd mated with an omega and got cast out because of it. He never truly learned the laws of pack life because of this--she only told him her delusions and clouded his mind with vague lies. When he's grown to a year old, he stopped believing her delusions, and she was growing old, nearly seven. He figured she was just coming down toward insanity(she'd been there all along). She was pretty much just a clinging leech to him, following everywhere he went and getting priority over whatever he killed. Though, he wasn't one to just shove aside his own mother, the only wolf he managed to trust and love. Through the middle of his first year, she began to deteriorate within her mind, making delusions that he was no longer the same and wanted to cast her out just like the pack. As much as he tried to convince her otherwise, it couldn't be avoided--she ended up falling in a shallow pool of water, and downing inside of it(as awkward of a death that is). For the remainder of the year, Kratos stayed near her deceased body--attached to it. When he made a kill, he would only eat beside her. On a daily basis he would chase off scavenger birds and the like. In winter, he would dig up the bones that would get buried beneath the snow. It wasn't until spring hit that he finally accepted her death and began to move on from the area. His eyes were set on the pack that had set out his mother. He could hear what she would have said in the back of his mind, the filthy traitor that he was. But, he knew well enough that at only two years, he could not survive on his own without going insane just as she had. Though, even as he'd intended to enter the pack then, the process didn't work quite as well as he'd first hoped it would--he didn't even reach the pack land until the following Spring, due to his curiosity and need for exploration of the lands that his mother and brought him into. Chances are, some of her psychological discrepancies would have been inherited. At the age of three, in his body's set prime, he finally has fulfilled the first step of redeeming his tainted blood. He found the lands, and his mind set more on climbing the ranks, rather than simply becoming another omega. Alpha--that would be his eventual goal, no matter what costs there were, or who he would have to break through. He wanted to make his mother see he wasn't worthless--that he could turn around the pack from whence she had come. Personality: Four words: paranoid, ruthless, loyal, and cunning. He's learned through experience that no one can be trusted, close or distant. He tries to ensure that there are no loop-holes in anything he does at all causes. His mind plays with him in the sense that there is not one person he can truly rely on, because if he did, he would be betrayed. Everyone is a suspect in everything, in his eyes. There is no good, only those conspiring for some type of something against him or those around him. Bravery courses through his veins--maybe even a little too much at times. He is full of himself, but very thorough in nearly everything he does. If he wants to do something, he will not stop until that sight is fulfilled, no matter what gets in his way. Nothing can hold him back other than himself... which tends to happen more than often. If he so happens to fail at a task, he will cast himself out and consider himself worthless until he can fulfill his own expectations. Beneath the cold and self-tormenting shell, he can be rather loyal to those who manage to get close enough, or those who are ranked above him. Though, he can be a little rebellions at times, due to the fact that he feels no one has the right to make decisions on who he is or what he does. Chances are, he will challenge his alpha many times to see which of them would be right to run the pack in the most sufficient and successful manner. Any loss will only drive him to become stronger and challenge again at a later time--he will not accept defeat entirely. Though his mind works in a strange-psychotic-manner, he is very intelligent and cunning. Every action and decision he makes is a well-thought over scheme. When questioned, he will usually take far longer to answer than average, even if it's a simple question such as his name--he thinks over the things that could go wrong if he answers, if he remains silent, and if he replied truthfully. Based on his weighing of the pros and cons. He has a bit of OCD over this type of thing, though it will commonly annoy those who are questioning him(it's no surprise if he answers a question with another question). Desired Pack: Neelam Other: This isn't the same infamous Kratos that we all know and love, he just shares the same name, maybe some of the personality. I laugh at my small, crappy, and cliché past. *cackle* Rp Sample: -From MS, with my character Nicoli [link]- The morning light awoke up the second it peered through the open window and down onto his face. In the windowsill sat a small, colorful bird, cooing into the morning air, greeting the new day. Nicoli wasn’t quite as thrilled, the cold air bit down at his flesh with spite. With a groan, he rolled to his side and stared at the door with his golden eyes, his clothing was hanging up right beside it. Although he was a morning poison, he did take some time to adjust from the sleep world and to reality—sometimes he’d wish that he could just never wake up. His face grew solemn, and his golden eyes flattened. The bird landed down on his arm, cooing expectantly at him. With a growl, he shooed it away and with annoyance, he stood to his feet—letting his blanket drop helplessly to the dirt floor, “Alright, alright, I’m going!” The bird bounced off and flew back to its morning perch on the windowsill. He kicked his blanket back up to the makeshift bed and walked toward the door, taking his clothing from the wooden node with an easy jerk of his hand. His golden eyes scanned across his cabin with disappointment as he began dressing himself subconsciously. It was so bare—a blanket and a bed made from twigs and bark woven together into a hammock type thing. The rest of the cabin was just empty space… at some point in time he’d planned on making more to it, but he’s yet to get that far. For a year, the cabin has sat the same.
Sighing he walked toward the window, which was nothing more than a square carved into the wooden logs that founded the cabin, he shoved the bird out, it cooed and flew up toward the morning sky. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, he turned toward the door, and heaved it open—it fell flat onto the ground since it was simply a block of wood on no hinges. He walked out over it, ever so casually—he wouldn’t put it back up until he returned. There wasn’t anything to lose in the cabin, so there was no point in closing the thing up. Hanging on the outside was his bow, and blow it a quiver leaned up against the wooden wall. With a sweep of his hand, he grabbed them both, flinging the quiver up and onto his back, and he held the bow in his left hand firmly. With a yawn, he proceeded forward through his acclaimed area of the forest. The small bird returned to him, landing onto his left shoulder, cooing to the early morning without a single care in the world. “Get your breakfast?” he questioned the bird, as if he knew exactly what he was saying, he grinned in the silence, focusing on his trail, “Good, now I need to get mine.” He shooed the bird away once more, and it picked up on its wings, soaring low to the ground, but well ahead. A smirk formed across his lips, and he began to pick up his pace, careful to stay quiet. He wound around the trees, keeping his eyes alert. Obviously, this was a routine for him—the trees had carvings in them, arrows pointing back to his cabin, x’s marking boundaries where the forest grew too dense and unsafe. Suddenly, he came to a halt, letting out a slow breath of air—the grass behind him rustled. He reached over his shoulder and pulled out an arrow, moving inch by inch. His breathing became shallow as he strung the bow and turned slightly around, to see a doe and its young grazing only a few feet away. His arms relaxed, and he stomped his foot to get their attention. He lunged in their direction, scaring them off. It would be foolish to kill a doe and her young, when they would soon help the population grow. Something flew overhead, and his reaction was instant—he armed up and shot his bow with the sun glaring down at him scornfully. With a squawk, a large black crow fell to his feet, and a chill ran up his spine as he grabbed its feet and pulled the arrow from its chest. “What an omen,” he sighed, “But it’s better than nothing.” Following the carvings he’d left behind in the tree, he made it back to his cabin with plenty of time to spare. The colorful bird landed on his shoulder again, cooing to the dead crow.
“Yeah, you see what happens when I get annoyed. Keep making that sound, and it’ll be you too,” he smirked, and the bird fell silent just before taking flight again, this time willingly. A low chuckle passed through his lips as he grabbed some of the brittle sticks and brush from beside his cabin, where he kept fire materials. He tossed the crow to the ground, and took a seat, letting the quiver slump off and onto the ground. For quite some time, over ten minutes, he sat there trying to create a fire with intense frustration—that was the one thing he could never really adapt to. “About damn time…” he grumbled to himself as the fire finally started up. He picked up the crow and used an arrowhead to help remove the feathers. Another thing he was never good at was cooking—though even with mistake after mistake, he never really learned how it worked. He put the bird literally into the fire with its feet sticking partly out, and he watched it sizzle and blacken. The flavor took a considerable amount of time in order to get used to, but he managed it after a good year and a half. It still tastes a bit awkward to him. Though, venison would turn out far worse than the crow. Taking the same arrow he used to skin the thing, he stabbed it and brought the steaming hunk of charred flesh out, some parts were still on fire. He blew them out and leaned the think up against the trunk of a tree to cool. His bird friend returned, cooing at the fire. He sighed, but smiled as he lifted his right hand to rub against the soft feathers of the bird’s face. “Yeah, you know I never meant what I’d said… that’s right. I’m always here for you.” His smile, though sincere, was a painful sight. His eyes could be ever so easily read: he was lonely. Rp Color: ff9000
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User information
Account Name: ♥Loveless♥ Your age: 16 Contact information: YIM: nuk0n Skype: xatanubis Number of wolves you play: 0 - until Kratie-Kun is accepted x3
« Last Edit: May 4, 2008, 8:14pm by [> Spirit <] »
x3 Ooh, I'm excited to make the first post... I shall claim it! xD *runs off to do that now* I'm going to be so rusty with wolves, though... it's been ages. x_x
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