Post by rhys on Dec 30, 2012 11:54:12 GMT -5
r h y s
p e r f e c t b y n a t u r e
ICONS OF SELF INDULGENCE
ICONS OF SELF INDULGENCE
name ,rhys
age ,three years
gender ,male
species ,canidae
breed ,husky mutt
orientation ,bisexual
j u s t w h a t w e a l l n e e d
MORE LIES ABOUT A WORLD
MORE LIES ABOUT A WORLD
height & weight ,26.5"/68lbs
body type ,tall and chiseled, lean but still remarkably well muscled; a nice in between of fast and furious and a tank
fur ,Double-coated, voluminous and fluffy. Soft, but not silky to the touch, incredibly warm but prone to mats
eyes ,Pale blue, often intense and staring, black rimmed and cold
outstanding ,Stark black and white coat, large scars raked along his chest
overall appearance ,Rhys is a large dog. He is tall, but proportionate. The legs that hold him so high do not appear gangly or awkward, but are instead smoothly incorporated into his appearance. His chest is wide and flat, his shoulders rippled with muscle. With a short, stocky neck, Rhys has a lot of power behind his bites and grips. His back is even, only a slight dip hidden beneath his fur towards his rump. A long, bushy tail brings up his rear, typically curled ever so slightly. Up front, his head is rounded with a long snout and sharp ears; his appearance very much that of the lupine husky.
Pertaining to his coat, his fur is long and thick, making him appear bulkier than he is. Several clean cuts, old scars, are evident on his chest, as the fur there never returned. If one were to get a good look, it appears as if a great stag had lifted Rhys up with his antlers and tossed the dog aside. His fur consists of two colours; black and white. His head is separated from his body by a thick band of white going around his neck, and even then there are merely two large black patches across his ears, stretching down his cheeks and just towards his eyes. Rhys has a white underbelly, legs, and tip of his tail; the black coating the rest of his body makes it look as if he were wearing a long black coat.
t h a t n e v e r w a s
AND NEVER WILL BE
AND NEVER WILL BE
likes ,being in charge, adventure, solitude, having many females, being remembered for his 'great' accomplishments
dislikes ,being forgotten, being told what to do, losing at anything, having no way out, those who think they're better than him
fears ,leaving no mark on the history books; of simply fading away into nothing
goals ,to run a pack of his own based off of a patriarchal society of war mongers
mental disabilities ,none
overall personality ,
While unintentional, Rhys isn't the friendliest type. He finds it difficult to socialize with others at paws length, let alone actually become close to them. He is cold, disinterested, and often rude when egged on. Try to talk about anything that does not have to be discussed, and he'll more often than not ignore you. Granted, when being spoken to by an elder or superior of other sorts, he feels required to respond. But he won't like it.
On a lighter note, he is very reliable. When he says he's going to do something, he does it. If someone else asks him to do something and he agrees or is otherwise expected to do it, he'll do it. In the quickest, most efficient way, of course. The methods he uses to get the desired result may not always be what one would expect, or hope for for that matter, but he'll get the job done.
For those who for some reason wish to know more about this one, they're in for a bunch of closed doors. Rhys doesn't talk about his past, would rather not even be pressed about it. He keeps his secrets secret, his hopes, wishes, dreams, etc. locked up tight, and any information he doesn't have to share is to be left a blank in everyone's mind.
As one might assume from cool, confident air hanging off of him, Rhys is an adventurer at heart. He craves adrenaline, yearns to see everything and go everywhere that he can. He is fearless, never backing down from a challenge, even when the odds are stacked against him. He is cocky, almost arrogant. Until something or someone has well and truly beat him, he holds no doubts about his abilities. Every obstacle in his path is just another mountain to climb, another epic story to tell of. He will not back down.
A born leader, Rhys feels best being the one giving orders, not the one receiving them. He tries to take charge of those around him, whether they accept hi omr not. He dreams someday of running hid own show, of being the head of a pack. Though he has a long ways to go in getting his own following, he isn't afraid of putting himself in charge when given the chance.
Once in power, however, Rhys can be quite domineering. Don't like how he does things? Then you are more than welcome to fight him for the title. To him, it's either you do what he says or you are testing his dominance. Coupled with a notoriously quick temper, almost anything can set him off on a tirade about how everyone needs to start respecting his authority. Though he actually tries to settle down before things get out of control, Rhys' temper has been known to get him into trouble.
h a v e y o u n o s h a m e
DON'T YOU SEE ME
DON'T YOU SEE ME
egg donor ,Kaydence
sperm bank ,Unknown
fellow spawn ,Deceased
overall history ,Rhys' past is quiet, but still tender. Born and raised on the streets, he grew up in this city as your run of the mill stray. His parents belonged to no pack, and only actually met once to procreate. After that 'romantic' night, his father melted away into the shadows, never showing hide nor tail again. His mother was a strong, independent bitch; she protected herself and her young fiercely, and was well known around town by the other strays and by the humans as a dog not to mess with. She didn't feel she wanted to join a pack, and often times moved herself and her family to quieter places, further and further from the hustle and bustle within.
From a young age, Rhys learned to admire this. He loved his mother; most of his traits came from her, if his appearance came from his father. Out of a litter of 5 wriggling pups, Rhys was the one that matured the fastest. Life without a pack was difficult; their mother was no stranger to losing pups to illness and cold. But when a strange plague befell the city's canine population, even she was taken aback at the numbers lost. It reached out of the concentrated homes of housepets and alleys filled with strays, even all the way out to the sparsely inhabited countryside where she thought they'd be safe.
Rhys was lucky to survive. Two of his siblings died early on, at only 3 months or so of age. There was quiet for some time, though prey gradually grew scarce. It seemed as if the illness did not only effect canines. By the time the litter was 6 months old, another sibling had died, leaving Rhys, his sister Rayna, and his mother. Prey had grown so scarce, it was beginning to show heavily on the small family. His mother's bones jutted out from thick, shaggy fur, and her two surviving children fared not much better.
Around these times, Rhys spent much of his time alone. He liked the quiet, as it helped him to think. He was always thinking. Thinking of how he could have changed this from happening, if only he were stronger, bigger, full grown. If only he had more power, he could help save his sister and mother. But in the end, these hopeless daydreams would be for naught.
Just past a year old, Rhys had grown much, though he was still quite young. His mother had struggled to teach her pups what they needed to know in order to be independent, but Rhys learned quickly. His sister lagged behind, and when their mother could no longer expend the energy to hunt for them, she began to starve. Rhys could not catch as much as they needed, and before long, his sister, too, had succumb to starvation and illness. Heartbroken, his mother slipped away while she lay curled against her only living child.
When he woke in the morning, Rhys felt the child in him close itself off. He was only a year old, but already he felt he had seen so much. Doors in his mind sealed shut, emotions were cut off, and without so much as a loving word to his dead mother, he left, setting out on his own life away from that disaster.
y o u k n o w y o u ' v e g o t
EVERYBODY FOOLED
EVERYBODY FOOLED
puppeteer ,Jaxattax
password ,admin edit
It was chill, despite the sun being out. A light wind rustled dying leaves, many already having littered the ground. Shadows crept, and though winter's cold grasp was well on its way, there was still abundant life in the forest. Bounding through the woods, weaving in and out of trees, leaping over creeks and felled trees alike, Rhys hardly noticed anything that darted away from him or backed under some brush as he went by. His tongue lolling out of his mouth, his paws dug hungrily into the earth, kicking it up as he went. His heart pounded, his chest heaved, and his body moved in one fluid movement. Unrestrained energy shone in his pale blue eyes, as his lust for excitement was slowly sated.
It was one of the few times others could see the husky mix at his most relaxed. He was never much of a 'life of the party' kind of dog. He enjoyed his solitude, at times even craving it. When he was around others, he only sought to dominate them, to be sure they understood that he was the top dog, and that those who disobeyed or fell out of line would be dealt with quickly and severely. It was always easier with the already weak and broken. By that point, half the work had been done for him. All Rhys had to do was waltz in and assume power. But for those that proved a challenge...well, he always did like a good game of king of the hill. Slowing to a steady trot, his deep chest filling with air as his lungs tried to keep up with his body's demand for oxygen, he couldn't help but smirk. One day he'd have his own legion to command over, one day soon. But for now, he'd have to start small.
Still trotting about the woods, the shriek of a rabbit startled by something large caused him to freeze. All at once, Rhys was nothing but business. His ears pricked, his nose drinking in the surrounding area. It hadn't been too far away; just through a copse of trees. How many could there be? Rhys doubted they'd enjoy a stranger coming in on a fresh kill. Snorting at the thought, he lowered his head as he pushed on towards where the sound originated from; since when did he care what others thought?
Coming in on a small opening, the gathering was more than Rhys could have hoped for, but less than he expected. Two dogs stood before him; one compact, solid black and well muscled, with sharp ears and intense dark eyes. From the way it held itself, Rhys would guess it was male. All self confidence and power, the black one appeared to have been stalking said rabbit, only just having killed it as blood slowly dripped from his mouth. Looking over, a small, lithe and weak looking dog eyed the dead rabbit. From the way it cowered, eyes pleading for a scrap, Rhys had to say it was a female. His eyes darting between the two, he couldn't help but chuckle lightly. What an odd couple. Good way to keep your women in line. He began, a cocky smirk flashed at the merle female. Make them beg for what they want.
Walking closer to the collie, he smiled at her, his pearly teeth covered in a fine sheen of saliva. Why don't you come with me, sweetheart? I'll really make you beg.
It was one of the few times others could see the husky mix at his most relaxed. He was never much of a 'life of the party' kind of dog. He enjoyed his solitude, at times even craving it. When he was around others, he only sought to dominate them, to be sure they understood that he was the top dog, and that those who disobeyed or fell out of line would be dealt with quickly and severely. It was always easier with the already weak and broken. By that point, half the work had been done for him. All Rhys had to do was waltz in and assume power. But for those that proved a challenge...well, he always did like a good game of king of the hill. Slowing to a steady trot, his deep chest filling with air as his lungs tried to keep up with his body's demand for oxygen, he couldn't help but smirk. One day he'd have his own legion to command over, one day soon. But for now, he'd have to start small.
Still trotting about the woods, the shriek of a rabbit startled by something large caused him to freeze. All at once, Rhys was nothing but business. His ears pricked, his nose drinking in the surrounding area. It hadn't been too far away; just through a copse of trees. How many could there be? Rhys doubted they'd enjoy a stranger coming in on a fresh kill. Snorting at the thought, he lowered his head as he pushed on towards where the sound originated from; since when did he care what others thought?
Coming in on a small opening, the gathering was more than Rhys could have hoped for, but less than he expected. Two dogs stood before him; one compact, solid black and well muscled, with sharp ears and intense dark eyes. From the way it held itself, Rhys would guess it was male. All self confidence and power, the black one appeared to have been stalking said rabbit, only just having killed it as blood slowly dripped from his mouth. Looking over, a small, lithe and weak looking dog eyed the dead rabbit. From the way it cowered, eyes pleading for a scrap, Rhys had to say it was a female. His eyes darting between the two, he couldn't help but chuckle lightly. What an odd couple. Good way to keep your women in line. He began, a cocky smirk flashed at the merle female. Make them beg for what they want.
Walking closer to the collie, he smiled at her, his pearly teeth covered in a fine sheen of saliva. Why don't you come with me, sweetheart? I'll really make you beg.
