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about Ibor
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Registration Date: 05-14-2013
Last Visit: 09-02-2013 01:48 PM Total Posts 70 Played By: Riorach 
 Total EXP
75 |
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| Iborcand's Info | |||||||||
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general information
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Relations:
Other Info:
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appearance
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Reference
Height: 7ft
Weight: 450lbs Scent: Blood and Fire In terms of size, Iborcand is a bear among pups, raising among the tallest of wolves in Adymerian he towers at a staggering 7ft tall at the shoulder, his body a rippling mass of hardened muscle that is easily visible through his pelt. Massive paws anchor his frame to the earth, sharp black claws barely hidden within sheathes, thick muscular limbs lead to hard hips and a broad chest. Upon his chest a bright green marking glows eerily with the power he holds within, often pulsating to his heartbeat. Medium sized tail held ever-aloft by a fused vertebrae, making it nearly impossible for it to tuck between his legs without breaking the bones. Fur of the deepest darkest black pulled taut over his flesh, marred by a bright orange dorsal marking that oozes down his sides like ichor, pair of striped markings dashing across his elbows, belly and ankles of his large front legs, his back left paw marked in the same rich vermilion. Upon his face that same deep copper color splatters across from his forehead to his nose, and once again over his eyes, deep black pools interrupted only by the acid green voids that are his irises. Keen ears sit atop massive crown, lined in fine brown fur, the backs patterned by that same orange color. Depending on his mood, Iborcand can make his markings glow a seething red, and his eyes an eerie wicked green. | |||||||||
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personality
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Iborcand used to be a well-controlled bomb, his raging emotions and darker tendencies kept in check by what he used to call the "veil". Now after hearing that his mate died, his rage has overwhelmed all of his other emotions, removing them completely. He doesn't feel remorse or sadness, and very rarely does he feel happiness, but the rage is ever present. He is outwardly cold to everyone, looking down at them as if they are insignificant toys for him to shred and throw away until they prove themselves to him. Often stoic in posture and in facial emotion, inwardly he is pulled taut and ready to snap at the easiest provocation. Often cases giving no indication of his violent intentions until he actually carries them out. Iborcand struggles with a "deserving" complex, finding liars utterly repulsive and undeserving of life, triggering his violence. He sees lies as the weakest thing to do, often causing him to attack the liar and attempt to rip the flesh off their faces. Fixated on the belief that a wolf without a face cannot lie to him, or hide how weak they are inside. If he finds a wolf that is physically or mentally weak he will often attack them or ignore them, depending on his mood. Beneath all of his morbidity lies a brilliant mind, a master tactician and craving for knowledge. Iborcand is constantly developing himself, believing that if he lets himself get complacent then he too will become weak. He is a wolf of few words, often only speaking those most impactful, and always telling the truth. Iborcand is a very dominant being, having been alpha of a pack for years of his life, he will never submit to another's rule unless they kill him. He takes what he wants and does as he pleases, and that includes she-wolves. If he finds a she-wolf he fancies, he is very blunt about his intentions, never caring for the finer ways of courting. If a she-wolf refuses his advances, he often will ignore them, wanting them to fight him for it and taking pleasure out of defeating them and dominating them. Once a kidnapper by trade, he is not above capturing she-wolves from pack lands, abusing them to his pleasure, and then dumping them back home when he's done. Beneath all of his darker portions lies a deep devotion to those strong enough to earn his respect as friends, or those bound to him by blood. To his friends he can be a steadfast ally. To his kin he can be their greatest protector, and their greatest threat. It is not rare for Iborcand to be present at the birth of any of his young, be the she-wolf a willing participant or not, and for the first few months of their lives he will often be with them in some capacity. For the pups that are strong and willful, he is proud. However, if a weak pup is borne of one of the litters, once it is 1 year of age he will attack it. If the pup survives his assault he will let them live, but only as his bastard, dropping the name Jorundr and taking up the surname Black.
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history
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It was two years of life he spent, enduring nightmares of that night and receiving no information regarding what happened. He and his mother lived alone, though when he asked of his birth-night his mother would react violently. The beatings hardened him, but his curiosities grew stronger alongside his body. She was a cruel woman, but when he had finally had enough of her and fought back, she shrank down and tucked her tail between her legs. The realization of her utter cowardice emboldened the young wolf, and he forced his mother to tell him the truth. She had allowed his father to come into the den and murder his sister, and it had been her blood he'd drowned in. His mother had done nothing, allowing his sister to be murdered and taken from the den without so much as a snarl of protest. Rage rolled through him for the first time, at how she had lied to him all his life, and beaten him when he pressed for truth, at her complete weakness. At what it cost. His rage was so pure that something snapped inside the young wolf's head, the lies and weakness was too much for him to bear, and his mother's insistence that she could have done nothing. Iborcand sank his fangs into her face, and tore the skin free, exposing muscle and bone and sinew to the world around. He saw the strength in her muscles, how they coiled as she wailed in utter agony. She had lied to him again. She had been strong enough. It was several hours he spent, ripping the skin off his wailing mother, shouting at her, hating her for her lies, hating how strong she really was. Eventually, he left her to bleed out and went down into the lower world, and eventually found a pack of kidnappers and brigands. He quickly rose through the ranks to become their Alpha, and for another year he led them to fruition. It was then he met his first love, his life-mate Joker Cruor. She drew out the softer side of him, and he fell so utterly for her that he'd give away all he was to be with her. Her strength and prowess was all he ever wanted, and together they had five pups. Girkall, Ragnarr, and Afkarra were his favored of the five, his two eldest sons and eldest daughter. For the first 3 months of their lives, Iborcand remained at his mate's side, living and playing with his pups, but eventually the pressures of his pack drew him away. It was when the pups reached 6 months of age that they had a decision; to stay with their mother in her pack, or join their father in his. Girkall joined Iborcand, while Afkarra and the other two remained with their mother. Ragnarr was the loner of the family, and had left them behind when he was 4 months of age. For a year everything was fine, and he attempted to raise Girkall as best he could. Then came the time when everything in his world fell apart. Rumors of his mate's death and his daughter's disappearance shook through him, combined with his Son's continuing decline into weakness he snapped again. Broken hearted and enraged, he challenged Girkall to a fight, and in his fury tore his young son to pieces. A blackness of pain and anger overwhelmed him, and after ripping apart several in his pack, he abandoned them and returned to his birthplace.
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