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MYTHMAKER ( finch!)
Posted 02-25-2017, 06:47 PM | This post was last modified: 02-25-2017, 07:23 PM by Vitalia
Female, 5
29 in, 130 lbs
© Meggn
continuination off of ( http://doutaini.net/showthread.php?tid=28186 ) this thread, as it states in the rules im posting this to hold its place and im typing the post now.

She puts the distance between them although he is following her, she knows there is a good several feet between them as she arrives in the arena; she is already set aflame; blood tussling the smitten contours of her crème locks that shift across her nape, thick and unlaboured, they shift upright, as well as the fine hairs along her svelte spine and shifting hips. Carved is she, a portrait of a lavished goddess, pissed off and relishing in the vendetta and violence. so here forth the angels sang and cried ‘ in fair Verona is now where we lay our scene, watch them die!. Flickering dismal torque along her hips she moves in a half arch, paws crushing the ground below as steely claws capitalized along each shifting paw, roughened by wear and tear they shift into the weathered ground below, steady and firm, she dances in a bitter undulating flicker, tail shifting along her hocks, lifting and tilting with each swaying movement of her reptilian grace. Her lungs heave in the very breath on her body, steadying her pace, but only fueling her hatred. She was a midnight killers Cleopatra, no longer the Helen of troy, she reveled in her Romanesque palace – the shewolf who fed the Babylon heirs. Her ears tilted forward, shifting as well to catch his steps, her lips wrinkled into a fuck you grin, as her tongue flattened to the bottom of her werewolf jaws, her wrinkled muzzle emphasizing her crushing teeth. She clashes her irises at his own, champagne meeting emerald and she relishes in the calculating air, smell and sound coming from his debonair flesh. There is already blood tainting her own stained jaws, not enough, but a little, and she snaps then with a velociraptors purring fervor; taunting him, watching him. Savagery had never been taught, but bred, and while her fanged lips usher the challenged.

Kolzak. Oh Kolzak – she should have stayed with her husband; he had loved her – he had desired her and more. He had come for her ; done everything he could have for her – only for her to still be a filthy piece of nothing. Didn’t Finch understand how he had hurt her? Did he care? He said he had loved her so very much, but now – now look at him? She wanted to question him; but she refrained from it – there was nothing left andlike a man loves his power, his freedom, his women and his honor – she to would live in the same ruthless manner ( or die). He had done more than just hurt her, he had torn her apart and changed her as an entirety. Slick with a ruthless caress she shifts the muscles along her shoulder’s, readying herself in the throbbing percussion of this wrapped demise. This was their grand story, she thinks, stopping for only a moment, her eyes never leaving him , even at several feet away, ” this is my gift to you.. blood, war, strife.. “ love, and for a moment, he may see it – may see the girl he had once loved, the one he had once laughed with – the one whom he had shared children with, whom he had declared were his only heirs – his daughter – their moments in the sdf skies. She can feel the throw of heart, beating in its confusion. He had broken her apart – made her question her pieces. Made her believe she would never be good enough for Kolzak, because of his taint ( his love) – but oh did she wish she could see Kolzak’s face – or did she? She was a terrible fucking being. She casts her ear in his direction once more, her neck lowering ever so slightly to cover her throat, her hiss gentle, ‘ to the fairest..” - her breath rolled on the wind, cascading into the dense desire to read his mind – the desire to perhaps have taken more time moments ago to just listen to eachother. But that was over, and her lethal pursuit had begun.

Vitalia vs Finch
Time limit is EXCUSED by both parties ( we will do this on our own time, esp with sylvs school schedule)
elements ( none on either side)
endo / 29inches / 130 pounds / ep (idk)
1 lost spar ( there is more I don’t recall)

Posted 02-26-2017, 05:47 PM | This post was last modified: 02-26-2017, 05:49 PM by Riot
Female, 7.25
three-five in, one-three-five lbs
221 ep
© tig
her voice is a voracious chorus, a cry that rakes among the sky in a fervent refusal. it was long ago that that very warcry would deafen the very heavens and serenade the sweet fear of its beloved, violent amoratas. it softens only for what this place, and the figure called into play upon it, means.

she is the villain of her own story, and she will play dagger and cloak, sword and shield, with ferocity. lion in a woman's skin, though that guise is barely feminine. she is the ugliness of that fierce tigress' snarl, the personification of the banshee. dependant on others for nothing, and that is the scale upon which her affections are weighed.

for him, for finch, she would challenge the very sky -- her heart pulses unsteadily at the thought -- and those insurmountable authoritarians who call it their domain. fuck your laws. the godless did not live by the way of worship, so what hold did the rules of temples and disciples hold among them?

she cannot fight this battle for him, but she can, on other days, stand beside him and stare along the line of possibility to their deaths at the end. but finch, for all his bravado, the ugliness of his necessary seduction, the very brutality that is both hidden and nakedly visible -- he is the one dependable man in her life, and gods be damned if death did not find him overcompensated.

she'd failed in many things, but not this. retribution or approval; her heart is in her throat, a storming capsule of leashed logic to the power of that body.

' here be monsters. '

Posted 02-26-2017, 05:58 PM | This post was last modified: 02-26-2017, 05:58 PM by Theodosia
Earth Warrior
Female, 1.25
36" in, [116] 132 lbs
150 ep
© Violetta


She has no business as a pup to be in Devil's Ruins. But Theo was the Ruins, with the cracked edges and dusty ground. This would be her turf, and as a mutt with a plan she'd gladly rule it. The pup attended most big things that happened, and always ended up in the same spot, watching with attentive eyes as blood was shed. It didn't make her proud, nor sad. It just sent bolts of emptiness through her, ruthlessness that was well beyond her age. But she was a wolf at the core, something most forgot when they attained an element.

Theodosia might be biased, but Rebels had her utmost respect for defying the Gods. As she couldn't find it within herself to do it. Akako, and Kurai would be her's till the end, and she'd never disobey their laws.
She arrived like the night, everywhere and no where at once. She disregarded the she-wolf who sat watching, and instead examined the challenger. There would be no words spoken tonight, as it was unnecessary.

It didn't matter the reason for her call, only if it would be answered. It was a chilly night, but Theodosia was born when winter was beginning, and was raised to face chilly temperatures. Regardless she lived in the desert, and as a result her coat was thin with wear. Heat radiated from the child, warming all those who came near. Theo would be present tonight, sitting at the frontline like a judge. This was war. This was wolf.


Theodosia is watching, and sits at the frontline so she can see everything.

Posted 02-26-2017, 06:24 PM |
in, lbs
Divine creed, divine greed. Hawke circles, sharp-eyed and hungry, with a gaze that pins her father's would-be killer as viciously as a snake's strike. Those blue irises - thin rings of summer sky, cut from the heavens - are nearly swallowed whole by the void of her pupils. Her shadow slips along the dusty ground beside her, as if it struggled to keep pace with her furtive stalking. No spoken word could convey the bottomless chasm of her loathing as it pierces her center, raking the tufts of fur at the back of her neck into sharp ridges of anger. A snarl drops from her tongue, rising in chorus with a crack of thunder splits the air in sickening waves. Electricity crackles in her veins, flickering in time with the warning glow of the crystal that is nestled against her broad chest. She is Finch's eldest, and that was distinction in itself to tie her to him via means stronger than fate - their shared blood was binding, and she loved him fiercely, even faced with his flaws. Who was she to tell him how to live? The roiling growls that grind between her teeth are enough to make one message clear as she takes each stride with deliberate precision, prowling, predatory --

If he doesn't kill you, I will.

Posted 02-27-2017, 03:50 AM | This post was last modified: 02-28-2017, 02:48 PM by Svana
Storm Alpha
Female, 5.00
33 in, 105 lbs
261 ep
© tam
The creature that paces the edge of the arena is barely recognizable. Goblin faced with her teeth laid bare by curled, stiff lips, Svana had long since given herself over a feral, uncompromising rage. Dust stains her toes, etched into the light hairs by the force of her predatory steps. It filters into the air behind her as she carved a path alongside the site of a coming execution. Each hair against the back of her neck stiffens against the breeze, turning carmine curls into spines that lust for the wretch's death. Ocean eyes level on the exiled creature--for Vitalia had sunk too low to be a woman, to be a wolf--with a cold and calculating hatred circling in their shallow depths, filled to the brim with a hunger for retribution. And though the hounds of hell already linger behind Kolzak's fallen wife, Svana does not threaten death, she threatens torture. Vitalia's sin was too damned for a quick, merciless death. A death that would usher only peace when she deserved hell. Let her skin be ripped open in a thousand places, one by one, in slow succession, so she may feel the ebb of her sorry life. Let her know the pain of consciousness as she starved to death, locked away with only her loathesome self to keep her company. Let her die, alone, in agony like she deserved. Svana's ears flatten tight against the flat of her skull, their tips trembling with the wild race of her heart. Finch had left her, but he was still the man that had been her confidante and the father of her children. He had been there the day the dragon fell, the only one in all of Storm that had stood as her witness. She admired him, coveted him, damned him, but she would die before some idiot woman used something as trivial as a broken heart to fell him.

Posted 02-28-2017, 05:22 AM |
Female, 7 (spring)
29 in, 105 lbs
2016 ep
© Singer

She was a proprietor of this place. She had spilled blood here – more blood than many wolves lost in a lifetime in the battle of fury and fire. She is a battle-worn warrior, stepping forth on dainty paws and marked with the scars of her lifetime. There is an indomitable fury that is clear in narrowed chartreuse eyes, as her hackles protrude as though she is almost a third bigger along her neck. Though she is small, though her body has aged, there is grace in her every movement, there is a burning need to see blood spilled again. The woman that demanded her mate die. There is a rattling rumble of anger in her throat, in her chest, as she moves forward – and she moves so her black form, rimmed with silver at lip and curled about with the delicate tracery of scars, can clearly be seen. The possessiveness is a burning in her gaze, one that mimics the ruby gem nestled naturally into her throat. They had had so little time together – so little time when others had intruded – and now she sought to steal him from her? As she spotted the women gathered in Finch’s corner, she knew knew that even if she succeeded (and who could, against Finch?) she would not live for long. No, she would gladly dig her teeth into her heart, and strip her life away if the woman stole Finch from her.

She’d come up alongside Riot first, a gentle brush of her side to the once-Water woman. She knew there was love for Finch in the smoldering eyes – they were the same in that. To Theodosia, she’d offer a soft growl, calling her closer to Singer as she moved to Svana, knowing the pain she felt. She would seek to press herself against her sister-friend’s side, knowing that if Finch lost his life, she would lose all hope she held in love, in trust for herself – in trust for how she had killed everyone she’d loved, or lost them in some way. The potential for heartbreak is true, but she’d stifle (not stop) those rumbles of fury that wanted to come out as a feline shriek. She would not distract Finch now, but she’d urge him on with every ounce of need in her body. She needed him. The potential children they held between them would need him. She’d given herself to him, and now she needed him around, a final proof that he was hers for the rest of their time living… however long, anyway. Her breath would come in harsh exhalations as she examined the woman challenging him, and knew her weakness. She was a weak wolf, by the looks of it. Inexperienced, and already bloodied – as was Finch. Though suspicion and doubt began to pull at her, she would not allow it to take grip on her wary heart. She trusted in Finch to be true – he had promised her so ardently she had to believe in him.

speak and be heard

Posted 03-11-2017, 07:55 PM |
Female, 23.0
5' 1 in, rude. lbs
© Penn
STAFF NOTE: Both Sylvia & Meggn have been contacted about a time limit needed for DMs. They each have until March 17th at 12:00PM to agree on one or it will be defaulted.

Posted 03-12-2017, 04:33 PM |
Rebel Alpha
Female, 4.75
40 in, 100 lbs
344 ep
© Lou
She knew little of what had happened when Finch had been the face of Rebel, but what she did know was that his legacy would live longer than even he. The stories were enough, but the aftermath was what really hit home, was what clasped the future with fingers that were bent and grotesque. She came from the ridge side, toes curled to kick up dust as she moved, a shadow against the copper tainted earth of the ruins'. She is hawk-like, long legs beneath a bony torso, a thick mane that travels the length of her neck to flare at her shoulders. Her skull is lowered, and in the place of her face is a distortion like no other, the face of a monster. Lips curl back over yellowing ivories, a silent snarl that wrinkles jet black skin. Her tongue flicks forwards as she stalks the sidelines, and she finds her place next to Singer with a venomous hiss slipping free as her tongue snakes back in. You dare defy? Her ears pin, her tail spiked with hackles that refuse to lay idle. Ichor slides from her gums, and from deep in her gut a growl rumbles deeply. He will destroy you. her eyes narrow on this woman, unknown to her, and there is where she stays. or we will.

I am the wild one tame me now
running with wolves and i'm on the prowl

Posted 03-13-2017, 03:22 PM |
Rebel (Site Helper)
Rebel Sub-alpha
Female, 10.0
30 in, 110 lbs
700 ep
© Kiwi

Oh dear, oh dear, what had become of poor Finch since Nox had passed? Rykerri had thought of him once, of how she'd heard his necklace shatter, and whether he would come to Rebel to live out his hatred. But he hadn't.

And now someone was baying for his death. She'd been close, teetering on the edge of Rebel's territory, her old favourite perch near the hot springs that overlooked the Ruins. She had climbed down, a little stiff but just glad that the sudden winter of the stardust festival didn't reach over here.

She was curious as she approached - but as she saw the crackle of electricity down Charlotte's spine, and the look on Singer's face, her feelings turned to solidarity. Passing by Charlotte and aiming to rub against her shoulder, she gave a brief nod before wheeling back around to settle where she could look to Singer, echoing the pain she could see in the woman.

Posted 03-16-2017, 07:40 PM |
Female, 5
29 in, 130 lbs
© Meggn
So - with sylvs permission and under aggrement that she doesn't not have the time atm to get this done nor I, and since we already knew what we were planning. This thread, between the both of us, can be decided as a draw. The way it happened was a very gory battle, if you want your characters reactions. Very gory, lots of blood and they each thought about the ones they loved and thier lives. Finch km sure looked to each of the ones here for him, so you can add that in.Finch grabbed Vitalia's throat and then she his at the same time. And both locked their jaws and suffocated eachother, killing eachother in the process. Finch died first and vitalia seconds after across the top of him, jaws still wrapped arounder eachothers throats and covered in blood.

This is a summary because neither of us had time, and while we wised to rp it out in all its glory, we didn't have time to immedatly. So it could have been better, but others wished to complain, so sorry yall but a summary is the end of it. You can count vit and finch dead, killed eachother. Thank you :). Any errors sorry on my phone.

Sylv can be contacted to confirm if need be..but we both agree to this. Thanks.

Posted 03-16-2017, 09:21 PM |
in, lbs
(phone post from work, sry)

Her heart explodes the moment they fall, resulting in a resounding shriek that shatters the breathless silence of the onlookers. It was so wrong. Her father, felled by a nameless stranger... surely he had wanted this, for reasons of his own. Finch Valentine was not a beast to be murdered by a nameless wench of no importance; something in her father had snapped, and his death was borne of opportunity.

Hawke could accept no other explanation.

She rushes forward in a frenzy, paws slipping in the bloodsoaked sand. Her muzzle is agape, glistening teeth snapping through the air to grasp the corpse of the female and shove her aside, separating her from Finch before even the whisper of rigor could set in. Her broad shoulders rests against her father's, separating him further, and tucking her chin up and over his head in a sign of possession. Her lips are curled in a snarl, and the hellacious sounds grinding at the back of her throat served as audible warning to the rest of them. Her blue eyes are bright in hysteric frenzy, hackles bristling - Hawke would not let any of them near.

Posted 03-16-2017, 10:49 PM |
Fire Wolf
Female, One year
30 in, 120 lbs
78 ep
© Jojo
She arrives late, and comes upon the horrid scene. Dry earth is stained dark crimson. Blood completely saturating the cracked soil, and painting the ground with its gore. Finch, a man she had briefly seen at the festival. He had approached her leader, the warrior woman known as Singer, and sat next to her. The way he had interacted with the war torn alpha one could see that they had a close connection. In what way they are...were...connected the yearling does not know. Among those gathered the dark girl sees the queen of smoke, and brimstone, standing so tense and rigid. With haste she trots over to her alpha, and aims to brush their shoulders lightly together. Worry shows in those vibrant green seas as she studies Singer. I'm here is what her expression, and touch, tries to convey to the woman she has grown to admire.

Posted 03-17-2017, 11:05 AM |
Fire (Site Helper)
Fire Pupsitter
Female, 2 years ( spr )
29 in, 106 lbs
70 ep
© seacca
sentry flies over the ruins in speed she has never experienced before. her legs are numb, mind focused on only one purpose. she’s too late, she’s too late ! it has taken her far too long to get here, and the sounds of battle already waver into the breeze. screeches replace the growls. she stumbles over rocks and rolls her ankle on one occasion, but continues loping forward. the pain is held off — she must know.

her limbs grow weak as she pounds into the arena. she slows to a final stop, a final survey of horror which gathers the information presented. she does not comprehend the bodies which lie before her, nor the aggressive creature standing above one. her breath is caught in her throat, feeling swollen and dead against her mouth. in one naive moment, she sees hawke as finch, and hope is restored. the fury of her blue eyes quickly trumps this hope.

the information sinks in like claws along her spine. she rapidly shakes her skull, feet stumbling her forward a few steps. "no, no, no.” tears appear almost from thin air, streaming across her snout and aching at her cheeks. her jaws clench, a strange whine released from her throat. her breath pants and becomes rapid, increasing until she finally breaks.

blinded fury reaps across her form. she is transformed into a missile of destruction as she barrels toward vitalia’s limp body. her war cry is an ugly and misshapen screech. she becomes a beast of rage as she rips and tears into the stiff body. some part of her recognizes her time of life has past, but she seeks to destroy any fragment of life that lingers regardless. sobs rack her as she digs and jerks at the flesh. blood coats her body and muzzle.

the stint of raw anger subsides quickly, however. she slows rapidly, muscles tired. she sinks down suddenly, falling to her side in the pools of blood she has ravaged. her sides heave unnaturally, possessed by grief she cannot summon to words or noise. she curls up for a moment then, allowing the tears to sting across her skin and her agony to vocalize into sifting whines.

moments pass, and she lifts her head in bleary despair. she crawls on her hands and knees, horror and anger and fear having robbed of the ability or stability to stand. she makes her way toward her father. she cares not for the protection that hawke provides — she will allow her sister to deal out her punishments without retaliation. sentry has lost the fight within herself; it has slipped away with the last of her anger. she seeks now to only be near him, or as near as she can get. when she gets as near as physically allowed or possible, she sprawls out in the dust, forepaw reaching out to him. words can be heard mutating from her jaws. “daddy…” she whispers, eyes squeezing together. “please… please don’t go.” she is a child now, revoked of her earned adulthood and transported into the same small frame she had first met him with. she tilts to her side, and if she’ll have got close enough, she will attempt to rub against him or in the dust, if she is physically unable to reach him.

defeat marks her, leaves her covered in drying blood over the stone and fragile with streaming tears that never seem to end. her expression goes slack. the numbness returns.

Singer Lyonesse Mace

Posted 03-17-2017, 12:11 PM | This post was last modified: 03-17-2017, 12:13 PM by Riot
Female, 7.25
three-five in, one-three-five lbs
221 ep
© tig
'o kei, o gods, o finch.' how long since she had prayed? so many days that she cannot count them any more than guess the scars that grace her brawler's hands. such wide, inelegant hands! yet, she would come forwards to against brush against him, know his body one last time and lay her lips in soft resolve: his brow, his lips, his still chest, his shoulder. tender in ministrations that are more a ritual -- detached as she hears the love-sickened pleas that those little girls ply against the corpse of finch shae valentine.

blood wells against sentry-- stolen, and she cannot help but look in scorn. dead was dead was dead. they died together, a poetry of bodies and of lives that flickered out too quickly.

'your love was not kind. but it made others strong.' those words are her last report to him, a final nail to seal the casket of their private conspiracies. riot smiles at that soulless face. finch had been brutal, inelegant in a graceful cataclysm. but his body is not beautiful without him -- he is aged and ravaged, a wild thing that perished fighting.

with brisk movements, she makes to sling vitalia's body across her back -- let finch's harem tow his shell. o she held more than one man's heart, but she had made sure she married them. it had been a vice, to collect women. but she had never blamed him for a moment.

perhaps he needed those women, their strength, their resilience, to remind himself that he was still a conqueror, and he could still be adored -- a role that had never been hers and was still not.

with a quick regard at the women who remain, she would find the most opportune of routes, making haste as limbs accustomed to work ported the burden of finch's beautiful victim away.

' here be monsters. '

Posted 03-17-2017, 12:47 PM |
Female, 7 (spring)
29 in, 105 lbs
2016 ep
© Singer

She is grateful when Charlotte comes up alongside her. When she is awash in the scent of those she has found her family within. Hackles flared across her body, sharp and protruding, her lips curled back against her teeth. She showed them. She was furious, a rage so cold and deadly that the heat Akako lent to her became cool and directed. There was blood. So much blood. And then…

And then she broke. Something inside of Singer shattered apart, and she was left broken. He died. He had promised to never leave her again, and she was alone. So alone that pain thrummed through her veins and she could not even force herself to draw in a breath from that panicked gasp. Nasiro’s arrival would be noted in the back of her mind, but there would not even be a tear to fall. She would not shatter where they could see her.

She would not splinter into little pieces, because her pack needed her, but she would never love again. He had been her all for so many years. In love and hate, in playfulness and possessiveness. They had shared their love, they had courted each other… and now he was no more. She held no need to even think as she drew in a single, shuddering breath, releasing the desperate urge she had to join him. She wouldn’t be selfish. She was glad that Vitalia was dead too, but that was the only emotion, bar loss and grief, to spill past that numb barrier she was desperately tugging into place around her heart.

She remembered his carefree smile, and the flirting of their first meeting, when he had first introduced her to teeth and the roughness of his love. She remembered the last time she had seen him – hours before – and he had been hers. She’d offer a look at his body, even ignoring Sentry’s rage against the dead woman who deserved no care, and lifted her voice in a solemn, shuddering song of loss, grief and utter love. She would never aim to replace him in her heart, for there was no such thing – but… she could not stop the wolf who had claimed him from doing what she would. They had their place, and it was to there she’d go and cry. In solitude, where she could embrace the agony, and dig at stone until her paws bled and her body ached to join him.

But for now, she’d slip away from her friends, gathered in support. She’d sidle away from any comfort she saw offered to her, to touch her nose to her grieving daughter’s shoulder gently, a reminder she would not leave her easily, before stepping away. For the first time, age would round the Fire Queen’s shoulders, her head and tail lowered. She looked what she was – forlorn and broken. But she would not give up on life, merely love and what it entailed. She held memories, precious and so dear to her that to speak to them would be sacrilege for Singer – to Finch.

He would remain her one and only.

speak and be heard
singer leaves

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