tate - male - domestic dog
Aug 24, 2013 21:17:40 GMT -5
Post by tate on Aug 24, 2013 21:17:40 GMT -5
tate
***
BASICS:***
NAME: Tate
ALIAS: none
AGE: Two years
GENDER: Male
SPECIES: domestic dog
BREED: Australian Dingo
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Undetermined.
PACK: Packless
***
APPEARANCE:
IMAGE SET: click.
SET PERMISSIONS: CC images.
COAT: standard breed markings, short, rough coat. Often has clumps of mud and or blood, on his legs.
COLOR: sandy-orange colour with beige base.
EYES: dark amber
SCARS: bare patch that stretches along chest and right shoulder, visible teeth marks.
HEIGHT: twenty four inches
WEIGHT: forty-five pounds
COMPLETE APPEARANCE:
Tate is your typical Dingo. Wild looking, muddy legs, and out of place. He has a narrower head for his breed, a pointed muzzle and erect, pointy ears. He stands at around twenty four inches, and fluctuates at forty-five pounds. When compared to domestic dogs his size, his teeth are considerably larger, and stronger neck muscles, even with his lighter frame. His chest is moderately deep, with a high stomach tuck. He has straight, lean legs and an even lined back. Tate is a sandy-orange colour with a lighter beige base. His fur varies in thickness, and can withstand high temperatures, although in the winter he is at a slight disadvantage. Underneath his fur, he has a collection of small scars from scuffles and such. However on the middle of his chest is a series of bare skin where teeth marks are clearly apparent, and they lead up to his right shoulder. He walks with a slight, only noticeable if he told you it was there, limp that will progressively, worsen around the age six.
***
PERSONALITY:
TRAITS: sociopath, pathological liar, unconventionally charismatic, manipulative, anti-social, intelligent
COMPLETE PERSONALITY:.
Tate is a psychopath, the worst kind of psychopath there is. He's a monster.
He is often portraying himself as a deeply misunderstood guy to those that do not know of his history. Everyone has always misunderstood him. He will frequently play the victim, until he can spin around and stab you in the back. The lonely, misunderstood, suicidal Tate. Untrustworthy if you can get to know him well enough, which will probably not happen, because he's misunderstood and no body wants to be friends with the lonely, dark, misunderstood kid. However, despite his misunderstood portrayal, he is a charismatic individual. An individual that will lie his way through life, claiming he has no idea how so-and-so ended up with their necks snapped floating in the river. A pathological liar at best. He feels no remorse for those dark actions in which he actually does kill someone, and will do it to protect the woman of his affections, or so he will claim. Although it is not actually clear if he has an addiction to kill those around him, or if it is just out pure impulsive choices, Tate has no hesitations killing others.
He does not take responsibility for his actions, and likely never will. The way he works is deeply complex, and he himself does not even understand it, so he often isolates himself. Alone, he will wander aimlessly, because he has no desire to seek out companionship of others unless they happen to be close proximity and "fear" he will kill them. Despite that he is anti-social, he is extremely lonely. And once he finds someone he truly enjoys being with, he will manipulate that poor canine into loving him. You see, Tate falls in love so incredibly easily. Or so he claims. (He claims a lot of things, actually.) He has an undying love, one that will make him kill others that even so slightly get in the way of their love. He is only capable of loving one person ever, and it is unlikely that he will ever forget them. He will grow obsessive and stalk the individual if they try to break ties with him. While he will only love one person, he does have the ability to like others. The only thing is, he will eventually attempt or successfully kill those he likes. He wants to save them from this horror show called life and there he will start all over again.
Tate has parental issues, and they are incredibly bad. One of the biggest wishes of this psychopath is to have a mother figure in life that does not abuse him. He does want to be loved, even if it is impossible to think about. Though the likelihood of him achieving this is low. No one wants a psychopath for a son, even though the fact that he is a psychopath is not apparent on the outside. While Tate does say darker things, and laugh at death, many assume he is just a little fucked up in the head, but otherwise pretty harmless for those that believe it. But there is always truth behind Tate's words, and his threats should never be taken lightly, no matter how small.
Nightmares invade his mind. What some would consider nightmares, are glorious fantasies to him. He has reoccurring dreams, often with him killing many people. He will jolt up in the middle of the night, breathing heavily but pleased in some sick way as he slowly falls out of that dream state. But sometimes he doesn't, sometimes he will wander and lash out as he would in a dream. He will not remember these acts, but instead will wake up with a sick, twisted feeling of satisfaction.
Sex seems like an impulse for him. If there's any slight chance he can force himself upon you, he will. Age matters not, nor gender, to him in the sense of sex, and Tate will not hesitate to rape a young individual. Although it's likely he will never be seen by them ever again.
***
HISTORY:
MOTHER: Constance, and dead.
FATHER: Referred as Bastard, and dead.
SIBLINGS: Victoria, dead. Esther, dead. Asher, dead. Beau, alive.
OFFSPRING: n/a.
COMPLETE HISTORY:
If you asked him about his history, what he tells you isn't guaranteed to be completely correct, or even true for that matter.
He grew up in a quiet little group with his mother, father, and siblings. His father was a lying, cheating, bastard that never did anything good for the family and his mother wasn't any better. Constance is the root of everything that is fucked up within Tate and his siblings. Found the Bastard cheating with some slut, and murdered them both in the silent of the night. She never really paid any attention to Tate, as he grew distant towards her as she grew closer to Esther and Victoria. She is the cause of his momma issues. She was verbally abusive, physically, and a constant reminder of his worthlessness. How all but Tate and Beau were the only ones to pass into adulthood is all a blur to him, only remembering the times where he buried them, and stood over their graves with remorse. Beau was probably the only kind sibling that Tate ever had, and he was genuine up until the point that Constance also seeped into his head. Even then, with the corruption of their mother instilled in them, they were close. Brought even closer with the presence of their mother.
By the time they were a year and a half old, Beau and Tate had grown sick of their mother's antics. A brutal fight broke out between the three, each attacking each other in blurred movements. Thus leaving Tate scarred, Beau eyeless, and Constance dead. The quiet, isolated family had crumbled apart.
His life is all a blur to him, and he wanders aimlessly now to pass the time.
***
PLAYER:
OOC NAME: Lows.
OTHER CHARACTERS: none.
EXPERIENCE: on and off, 5+ years.
HOW'D YOU FIND US?: Wandering around site to site.
PASSWORD: Accepted.
RP SAMPLE:
Paws hit the cobblestone path lightly, moving at an even, nearly silent pace. The only noise that broke the eerie silence was the old chain that dangled loosely around his neck. It was dark, completely dark, the sky covered with dark clouds, threatening to release a horrible, violent storm at any given moment. It was days like these, that he seemed to love the most. He loved what others would label as destructive and unpleasant weather, but for him, no. Charon used the weather to his advantage, for the whipping winds lifted settled scents. A large gust of wind ran through his brindle fur, and he lifted his head up, taking deep breaths; everything seemed normal. He approached the large chestnut door, moving through them as wind pulls it open, creating loud creaking noises. The air in here was dry, and a stale scent clinging to it, although it was also clouded with Taryn's scent, as well. The history that this place held was vast, and one could imagine the horrors, the violence that had happened here, all plastered within the wall's memories. Generations of Taryn leaders had walked through these halls, but now a new generation had risen. Someone with true power. He would not fail with this pack. His plans, however, for this pack, for Cascaro had not been revealed.
Another whip of wind broke through shattered windows, stirring the dust and dirt. His dark eyes narrowing in suspicion as an unknown scent drifted into his snout. Though he was Emperor of Taryn for a short time, he knew of everyone, for he had called a pack meeting. The thought of a trespasser was something that he did not fancy, at all. Ah, but yet there was an even stronger scent, of a member. Without hesitation, he moved silently forward, his body encased in the shadows. The deeper he moved, the louder echoes of fighting became. Of course, when he reached the hall where the blood shed was occurring, he stopped, standing there, watching a vexillarius and a trespasser battle. The battle was fierce, the vexilarius; Alexus, tearing at the canine with astonishing speed. The trespasser, yelped in pain, cowering on the ground, he looked up at him, "I..I can't move my leg..." It said, in a pitiful voice, perhaps seeking mercy from the vexilarius. "...You foolish brute, had you listened, your ligaments would not be torn" The way Alexus said it, the way he had executed the attack, it all struck a prideful streak within the Shepherd's blackened heart.
"Alexus..." His voice called suddenly, bringing him closer to the pair, "What a remarkable show that was, I do give you props." Voice smooth and calm, with a hint of praise, he spoke to the sighthound mix. The vexilarius dipped his head in salutations, keeping a paw pressing down on the mongrel beneath him. "Such a shame. You enter Taryn's lands, and look where it brought you, cowering on the floor, like a the weak pup that you are." His voice, steady as always, yet growing with a threatening tone. "Had you listened to the warnings, the rumours, the stories, had you listened to this vexilarius, you would not be in this situation. You tread on hell's lands, hah, well, you're going to get burned. So young, so naïve, so ignorant." Charon drew a little closer, "I have half a mind to kill you, and leave your innards in front of the asylum, as a warning." He paused, "...No, no...That would be to merciful of me, too kind of me to end your life right here."
A cruel grin broke upon his torn lips, and his gaze shifted from the mongrel, whose eyes were wide opened, as if all of the bravery, foolishness, and recklessness had drained out of him, to Alexus. "Alexus, I have a favour of you, in which, I assume you will take pleasure in. I want you to make sure he walks with a limp, for the rest of his life. Tear his face up, rip his ears off." The sighthound nodded and laughed sadistically, "My pleasure..." Charon was definitely a creature of cruelty. The scene before him, grew gruesome, cries of pain, blood seeping onto the floor. The shepherd mix reclined to his haunches, watching the show with amusement.
Once the deed was done, Alexus withdrew from the cowering, bloody, mongrel. "Trespasser, get to your feet," Charon said assertively, and the mongrel obeyed. He scrambled up, barely able to support himself, a slight whimper emitted from his jowls. "Walk, towards the entrance. Come, Alexus." The sound of nails clicking against the tiles, the jangle of Charon's chain, and steady breaths could be heard bouncing off the walls. The vexilarius on one side of the mongrel, and Charon on the other, escorting the foolish male off of Taryn lands. At the door, they came to a halt.
"You will live, live as an example to this city. A living, breathing, warning. Spread word of Taryn's new Emperor. Tell everyone of how you came to be as you are now, warn others not to be as foolish as you. Remember our faces, never return.."
Another whip of wind broke through shattered windows, stirring the dust and dirt. His dark eyes narrowing in suspicion as an unknown scent drifted into his snout. Though he was Emperor of Taryn for a short time, he knew of everyone, for he had called a pack meeting. The thought of a trespasser was something that he did not fancy, at all. Ah, but yet there was an even stronger scent, of a member. Without hesitation, he moved silently forward, his body encased in the shadows. The deeper he moved, the louder echoes of fighting became. Of course, when he reached the hall where the blood shed was occurring, he stopped, standing there, watching a vexillarius and a trespasser battle. The battle was fierce, the vexilarius; Alexus, tearing at the canine with astonishing speed. The trespasser, yelped in pain, cowering on the ground, he looked up at him, "I..I can't move my leg..." It said, in a pitiful voice, perhaps seeking mercy from the vexilarius. "...You foolish brute, had you listened, your ligaments would not be torn" The way Alexus said it, the way he had executed the attack, it all struck a prideful streak within the Shepherd's blackened heart.
"Alexus..." His voice called suddenly, bringing him closer to the pair, "What a remarkable show that was, I do give you props." Voice smooth and calm, with a hint of praise, he spoke to the sighthound mix. The vexilarius dipped his head in salutations, keeping a paw pressing down on the mongrel beneath him. "Such a shame. You enter Taryn's lands, and look where it brought you, cowering on the floor, like a the weak pup that you are." His voice, steady as always, yet growing with a threatening tone. "Had you listened to the warnings, the rumours, the stories, had you listened to this vexilarius, you would not be in this situation. You tread on hell's lands, hah, well, you're going to get burned. So young, so naïve, so ignorant." Charon drew a little closer, "I have half a mind to kill you, and leave your innards in front of the asylum, as a warning." He paused, "...No, no...That would be to merciful of me, too kind of me to end your life right here."
A cruel grin broke upon his torn lips, and his gaze shifted from the mongrel, whose eyes were wide opened, as if all of the bravery, foolishness, and recklessness had drained out of him, to Alexus. "Alexus, I have a favour of you, in which, I assume you will take pleasure in. I want you to make sure he walks with a limp, for the rest of his life. Tear his face up, rip his ears off." The sighthound nodded and laughed sadistically, "My pleasure..." Charon was definitely a creature of cruelty. The scene before him, grew gruesome, cries of pain, blood seeping onto the floor. The shepherd mix reclined to his haunches, watching the show with amusement.
Once the deed was done, Alexus withdrew from the cowering, bloody, mongrel. "Trespasser, get to your feet," Charon said assertively, and the mongrel obeyed. He scrambled up, barely able to support himself, a slight whimper emitted from his jowls. "Walk, towards the entrance. Come, Alexus." The sound of nails clicking against the tiles, the jangle of Charon's chain, and steady breaths could be heard bouncing off the walls. The vexilarius on one side of the mongrel, and Charon on the other, escorting the foolish male off of Taryn lands. At the door, they came to a halt.
"You will live, live as an example to this city. A living, breathing, warning. Spread word of Taryn's new Emperor. Tell everyone of how you came to be as you are now, warn others not to be as foolish as you. Remember our faces, never return.."