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about Jackal
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Registration Date: 05-12-2013
Last Visit: 10-17-2013 12:16 PM Total Posts 99 Played By: Lashes 
 Total EXP
75 |
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| Jackal J. Astor Vur's Info | |||||||||
| Fortune does what Fortune will | |||||||||
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general information
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Relations:
Morgäna: Lacender Poison: lavender, nightshade, autumn breeze; I want you, though I know not how, why, or to what extend my yearn will over take us; but you belong to me.
Valyptō: for one that manipulates the visual world, what is you're handle with the blind? You're eyes cannot be trusted, they will deceive you - step with me mandarin woman, lotus blossom, and see what I see. Other Info:
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appearance
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Reference
The large wolf towers, a mire of dark color. Ionian-navy and bruised purple sown into crazed obsidian locks, weaving a fathom of indigo that spirals into chaos, twisting hackles thick across his long neck and sharp shoulders. The Caverunner is a wolf of slender sinew, and lanky length. His spine juts knobby, hidden only by the thick of his pelt, and his ribs echo through the shadows of his fur. His wide paws stretch as if on ice, large claws gripping whatever is avaliable. Every step is accompanied by the power of his earth element, spider web roots striking out and downward as far as they can according to his gait [often about 1.5 ft in any five seconds of a step – slows down when he is settled, but also travels out further]. Jackal watches the world with a teasing smile on his long muzzle. A black-iron Lantern hangs most often from his jaws, red candle flickering light underneath his scraggle chin. Pale eyes wander with unconscious reflex, blind to the material world he walks. He has become incredibly proficient without them. Sense casting has given a grand aid, but it has been a recent addition. For nine-tenths of his life he learned to co-exist with the significant power of his nose, the acute sensitivity of his ears, and the tenacious searching of his kinetic body. His ears rest tall at the crown of his head, searching always for any slight altercation in the world he travels. Sometimes a bone-hued, silk blindfold wraps around the useless orbs; other times it wraps around his left fore-wrist. A long tail flicks back and forth, expression of his mood, with characteristics of both a canine and feline [as he never saw to socialize his body language to solely canine expression, he instead expresses himself as it would come in a raw, natural state]. The appendage often thumps against tree-trunks and small standing brush to locate any structures that Jackal’s body did not touch. He moves with odd fluidity. His steps are certain and content, neither wasting time nor rushing its pace. Often he moves with an elongated gait, paws searching for solid contact before they are willing to lift into the air again. When it comes to survival, he is capable, but often endures the harshest repercussions. His diet is far more omnivoric than most wolves would find pleasing – this has clearly affected his weight over the years. He hunts small game with the assistance of Liam-Sheeve - his familiar, scavenges for fallen prey, and digs for root and berries. Stable life with his new home in the Council,and becoming an alpha with three other brethren, has allowed his diet to find stability. Muscles have strengthened and caused his exuberance to increase, and thus his desire to hunt larger game. Time will tell if this actually becomes a formitable skill. Perhaps this sudden request from ethereal beings, the step from his lone-exile to a council of four in a pack painfully reminscent of his own, was the seed for his growing physical additions. Foremost the Rune of Fortune (Skyrim Rune) in soft alablaster glow across his chest. He feels it pulse and sear his soul. Kudzu twists up both hind legs to the knee, plants unable to resist temptation to a wolf who ties himself so readily to the earth. Now he's found his vanity tickled, for some unfathomed reason - orange zircon gems weave dreads out of the mingling pale white and indigo of pelt and god-touched rune along his chest - distant enough to just tinkle like ice-rain in his ears. Five black iron bangles have also taken residence at the base of his tail, parted just so where they neither move location nor clank together with general motion. Yet the weight is odd and comfortable, pleasing to his eccentric reasoning. | |||||||||
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personality
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Jackal, as he’s become known, is an eccentric and manipulative wolf, and Justice sought to punish him at birth with blindness. There is no telling whether this destined disability has really hindered Jackal, or just enhanced his off kilter personality. He is a creature of games, though he rarely shares the details to his players, since the games are meant for his personal amusement. He enjoys asserting himself to create an awkward situation - “to listen to your reaction, my dear” -, with a dogmatic desire to undress lavish personalities. When it comes to his blindness, Jackal is very capable, thanks to his strange, rigorous lifestyle. He understands his limits and weaknesses, and though they may not always be avoidable, he knows how to best react in the situations. He also has an intimate understanding of his four remaining senses and taught his imagination to create its own world from his sensory building blocks. Jackal trusts very few, but he is willing to trade his trust as a bargaining chip to those who find themselves intimately tangled in his darkest of webs.
Part of Jackal's enigmatic personality is his sardonic humor and sadistic range of amusement. He enjoys coming off as knowing the intimate secrets of someone just by hearing them say their name - though often his statements are based off observational assumptions, he speaks them with such black velvet conviction it seems he's hit his mark. He enjoys it when people talk about themselves, preferring to listen than to speak himself - this has a tendency to limit him to a reactionary state, a flaw that Jackal is aware of but cannot seem to avoid. He observes others through the way they act, the way they speak, the words they choose to use and what they choose to focus on. He commits their scent to memory and allows his vivid imagination to paint a strange, expressionistic view on a black background. It’s an unconventional way to come across a bit of truth about a person, and Jackal adores manipulating it any way he possibly can. An insomniac by nature, Jackal has built the stamina to be cognizant and aware for up to three days and nights - this does tend to lead to a crash of fourteen hours.. Perhaps this feeds the unstable mentality that helps define his charming quirk-ness and primal, darker nature. In his more intimate moments he seems paranoid, with a heavy dislike for crows and "those he can’t smell", and believes he's playing a game bigger than himself with more at stake than he is willing to admit. His mood cycles into moments of insane manic - Jackal tends to become impulsive, eagerly searches for violent or engaging situations, sadistic in his humor and actions, and leans to his impulsive wolf nature - and a melancholic sanity, Jackal's preferable state of existence. As time has continued, his age has brought to him a wisdom that has tempered the impulsive state haunting him. He, borne of the earth, buried in its caverns, and made for its secrets, pursues the strength and weaknesses within himself and the greatness of his word. The GODS hold his existence in a balance, and sway the winds of Fortune; gracing him with blindness, cursing him with exile, solitary, misery and pain...what did it matter, though, when it fortified his NOW. | |||||||||
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history
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A wolf of the world, one who has endured the harshest of hardships and tasted the most exquisite of heavens, Jackal has haunted Adymeria for a decade. He was raised in the far north of Admeria; part of the proud Vur-Rue lineage; ice cave runners, tunnelers of tundra and freezing mountain. Jâçk was born blind, and a full day sooner than his three litter mates. Yet, due to his family history, they did not shun him and instead sent him to stay with the others in the deeper core of their mountain home, to learn how to utilize their remaining senses in a place that caused visual impairment naturally. Thus he grew same as any other, save the impress of scent-sound, touch-taste of his blind world.
At nine months of age, endlessly eager and adventurous, got lost - pr wandered off - and was found two months later by a God-Forged with a Lantern. This guide came when Jâçk was weak with starvation and aching for wolven contact. The young wolf stayed with this God-Forged, whom he only called Guru, for another six months before he was eventually lead to the heart of Adymeria, where a sect slyly hides. They were the Vagabond, Guides of the compass rose, whose symbol was a unique Lantern in waxh of their jaws. Informed by the Guru, he was welcomed into their midst. His life was interrupted when he was six, and he was exiled from the sect he loved so. They attempted to take his Lantern from his jaws, but the dark enigma would have nothing so important be wrenched from his grasp. He escaped with her in tact and has pursued an existence as an Illegal Guide, an Exiled Vagabond, since. He has pursued life with the whole intent of making himself better, and overcoming the incredible weakness blindness gave him. A decade has started him on a fine path. His magic has grown, and he has used it with a focus on enhancing his own abilities and strengthening his weaknesses. Certain now of himself, he has stepped forward in the realm of magical growth to pursue more than just the necessities he needs to function at the rapid pace his Acid mind demands. He is accustom to his acute senses and the near overwhelming state the sensitive combination threatens him with. He knows his limits and the best ways to manipulate his abilities and is still, constantly, humbled by the ways of the world and the paths that Fortune chooses. He has faced it all with a smile. At times, it has been a mask, a cover for the vicious melancholia and pain eating away at his Pisces soul. His empathy overcomes him, and tries to break him over the past transgressions and impulsive decisions that brought him to these moments. Smothering these, overtime, leads to a burst of self-destructive manic, pursuing the ill-graces of Misfortune with as much hearty desire as he does the small blessings she grants. But for the most part, Jackal finds joy in the smallest aspects of life, and these permit truth to enter the grins on his maw. Perhaps this perusal of jubilee against the ever-shifting, often harsh tides of Fortune, is what permitted the Rune to him. --- A night dark and devious sent him to Verothra Forest, where he discovered the hideous scent of a Monster and went to discover, with fool-hearty glee and grim understanding. He needed to see darkness he only way he could. [to be comintued] --- He discovered her. Lavender Poison, the mysterious whisper of scent and life gracing the council grounds and territories so near. He wasn't hunting her at first, and yet when the delicacy touched his nose, and struck him so - well. The discovery yielded wonders: she was a mystery as of one he'd yet to understand, a darkness he could not comprehend seeking the same light-design as he. And she called herself a monster. | |||||||||
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