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about Jura
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Registration Date: 06-04-2013
Last Visit: 11-28-2021 10:16 AM Total Posts 11 Played By: Swen 
 Total EXP
75 |
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| Cuore Halvor's Info | |||||||||
| Run if you must but you'll only die tired. | |||||||||
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general information
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Other Info:
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appearance
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Reference
6' at the shoulder
In the adumbration of decay she lingers in all her self-adorned glory, ebony head held high with tinsel threads lacing her muzzle in hues of hoary. With a steady hand the artiste fabricates his image of regal pride on the canvas of Jura he paints with elegant strokes the soon to be devils bride. Dipping his brush in bold carmine he starts below her wicked grinning chin to caress with his brush down her broad chest to her taunting swaying hips. A stomach tucked to give the illusion of feminine curves is gently stroked by the bristles but in fear of teasing the bitch he continues his audacious exploration ending his touch mid-way through her tail. Fashioned with grandiose tassels she swivels her caracal ears painted, too, in flamboyant scarlet to listen to screams and fears while elongated legs trod in gore infested soil making half her legs mimic the hue of dark red wine. 274 lbs Glowing blue eyes Black & red fur Black tongue Ref lines by Roneri | |||||||||
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personality
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Cold, brutal, blunt, honest, devout, absolutely loathes any form of weakness, strong willed, bull-headed, determined, prideful, savage, power-hungry.
I am the tomb of brutality, the encasing of individuality wrapped taught within a mortal crypt of decrepit queens. To the rhythmic drums of a thundering war I march to the cadence of howls and screams of the fallen, of the wounded, and yet I press on for fear is the home to cowards of which I do not reside; it's a crumbling abode of moral decay and idiocy, a playground for the craven hearts whom cower in their acidic piss – save your own back...I'll have none of that. No. It is determination that takes a firm hold upon the helm of this slowly sinking vessel and pride which guides these weapons of choice that glimmer in tainted hues against a twilight sky. Slaver drips from equip fangs as they aim with precision their target. Trained for warfare, enduring strife. It's what I live for, it's what I crave and the mere thought sends a trickle of savage pleasure cascading throughout my spine. Hackles risen for defence – one of few armours my kind can make use – and ears lowered so not to hear your useless drabble. Conversation amidst the throws of battle – how pitiful to use a tactic that only serves to buy time for your demise. Can you feel it? That feeling of power as the adrenaline courses through your veins is an intoxication of your own and an addiction of mine; the quakes of your heart, the quivering of my legs as they pace to and fro in anticipation for the battle to come. It's an itch that cannot be satiated with the loss of one life, for the revenge of broken tradition lost throughout the dredges of time. Honour thy mother, thy father, and the laws of thy king for none other holds utmost superiority than the leader of your lands. Treason is a bitter crime though the consequence is a far more vile poison that dribbles down your chin. It is for honour that I'll fight you and it is for my own morals that I stand before the fates of Hades's spire and glower upon the face of death. I will never surrender to the likes of you...compassion is weakness. To press the advantage when an opponent calls for mercy is the way of true power. | |||||||||
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history
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It was in the middle of the first year of the non-stop blizzard and their faith had begun to dwindle; the herds had moved to the south which was an area forbidden to the Anleifr due to the rivalry pack they had once been at peace with, the Imogen. When man begun to kill man, and brother turned against brother, the great winter would begin and death would soon follow. It was a tale told by the dream weavers that even the king of Anleifr thought to be nothing but foolish superstition, but when his beloved ran to his brother in Imogen, that is when the war began and this horrid winter began to kill them slowly. Starvation had begun to strike within the Anleifr and it came to a point where they would begin to eat their dead instead of honoring their age old tradition of casting their bodies in the river to help guide their spirits to Yggdrasill – the underworld – so their souls would not wander the lands tortured and tormented. Their numbers began to decrease as days went by and though their king had forbidden procreation if they continued this way they would become extinct. King Heimdall chose two strong women that were healthy and not overly affected by starvation to become the vessels for his offspring. Hervor, one of his warriors, was among the chosen. She was a doughy, stalwart woman one of which many thought should have been born a male. She had a thirst for battle, and always struck first and asked later. Though she was reckless Heimdall thought her capable of bearing him a strong heir. The other was Bjorn, chosen only for her looks, since the woman was of a more gentle nature and often criticized by the Anleifr sinc she was not a very fearsome fighter. It was the beginning of the second year of the winter when both woman gave birth. Hervor had two sons, Raudulfr and Debellaer, and Bjorn had one daughter Cuore. Unfortunately, due to the circumstances in which they were living, Bjorn did not live through the birth and so under Heimdalls command Hervor was forced to mother the girl – though she strongly protested to raise the whelp of a weakling – but she was to treat her as her own. The three pups were raised mainly by Hervor, though the males occasionally learned from Heimdall as well. The war between brothers had become viciously bloody and very few of the Anleifr remained. The pups had already gone through their first year of life and survived off the flesh of their comrades, learning that this was something that needed to be done in order to survive, with the occasional stray of the heard heading into their lands and presenting them with a feast. Eating the flesh of their brethren had brought about a great plague that killed their leader Heimdall along with many of the pack, Hervor included. They were now orphans and fighting for the throne of their father. Finally the winter had broke and the herds began to return but the war had not ended so quickly; now those inside Anleifr began to fight one another though it was mainly the siblings raging war and discontent against one another. Cuore envied the powers her brothers had gained through brute strength alone, they had taken lands which belonged to their neighbours expanding the kingdom and leaving Cuore for dead many times in their battles. It became to a point where Cuore could no longer stand the mocking of her brothers and left. The lands where she arrived were known as Asgard, home of the assassins. She had earned her ways through the ranks by using trickery against their king and claiming Asgard as her own which earned her the name Jura. She used her new found talents to trick the kings of bordering lands to join her against Anleifr and her brothers. One morning, Jura and her warriors sounded their mighty howls at the border of Anleifr officially summoning them for battle. It was during this terrible struggle of blood against blood, that her uncle – the king of Imogen struck. Both brothers had fallen and Jura retreated back to Asgard where she was greeted only by a mob of the previous kings loyal followers. Though they tried to kill the defeated Jura, she quickly made her escape and fled the lands for good. | |||||||||
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