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about Ark
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Registration Date: 05-17-2013
Last Visit: 06-10-2019 01:33 PM Total Posts 18 Played By: Freakshow 
 Total EXP
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| Arkham's Info | |||||||||
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general information
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Relations:
Other Info:
He only becomes pansexual if he is desperate. If he has not come across a female in weeks, perhaps even months, he will resort to males. Otherwise he is heterosexual and will mostly go after females. | |||||||||
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appearance
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Reference
Arkham is a shade of black that not even complete darkness could compare itself to. The onyx tendrils shimmer with a dark, sinister purple-black shine as they whisper among each other. Ebony is accompanied by ivory in thin white stripes that criss cross in a very hacked, askew pattern as they crawl down his spine. He stands on strong limbs matched with wide paws and silver hooks protruding from his toes. Arkham's eyes are a brilliant silver, a hue of color that rivals the moon. They are tainted with white and black speckles and often hold a sense of mystery within them. | |||||||||
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personality
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Dissociative identity disorder (DID) - Dissociation, the term that underlies the dissociative disorders including DID, lacks a precise, empirical and generally agreed upon definition. A large number of diverse experiences have been termed dissociative, ranging from normal failures in attention to the breakdowns in memory processes characterized by the dissociative disorders. Thus it is unknown if there is a common root underlying all dissociative experiences, or if the range of mild to severe symptoms are a result of different etiologies and biological structures. Other terms used in the literature, including personality, personality state, identity, ego state and amnesia, also have no agreed upon definitions. As far as this disorder goes, Arkham has it. He often has lapses in attention; his mind will be on one topic at first and the minute something comes up, it changes. He stops in the middle of his sentences sometimes, and suffers from amnesia after certain 'happenings'. He reverts to a dark, feral, instinctual creature that emits nothing more than grunts, growls, and squeals.
Necrophiliac - a being with an erotic attraction to corpses. Arkham has an issue. He procreates with the dead. His father had the same disorder, and as a whelp Arkham often witnessed his father's rendezvous. He has developed this trait from his father, and hardly ever remembers any crimes he commits during these times. Adaptable - to adjust oneself to different conditions, environment, etc.; to make suitable to requirements or conditions; adjust or modify fittingly. If something substantial suddenly changes, Arkham has the ability to change with it in order to thrive. This generally happens when he's traveling; he will modify himself so that he will benefit off the land. However, he can also adapt to significant life changes such as a death or acceptance into a pack. Sarcastic - harsh or bitter derision or irony; a sharply ironical taunt; sneering or cutting remark. Arkham always talks this way. His words are meant to irritate others, and along with his less-than-nice statements, this tone often rubs others the wrong way. Pushy - obnoxiously forward or self-assertive. This male is a dominant brute, especially when it comes to females. He will force himself upon not only them but other males as well, and loves to take the role of leader. He doesn't care if he's invading your personal space; to him, your space is his and his space is his. Arrogant - a sense of superiority, self-importance, or entitlement Self Indulged - Excessive satisfaction of one's own appetites and desires. Arkham often feels as if he isn't being treated the way he should. He is selfish and will not hesitate to put his own needs or wants before those of his peers. He believes that he should be put before everyone else and that he is far from expendable. Persuasive - to induce to believe by appealing to reason or understanding; convince. Arkham will try and try and try again until he gets what he wants. He is persistent when he is in the midst of persuasion, often warming up to the desires of others only if it benefits him. He will tell you want you want to hear and he won't hesitate to bend the truth. Compulsive Liar - One who lies on impulse without reason; one who lies out of habit. The male has a mad habit about him, a habit to lie. He will twist the truth until he sees fit and he will not stop there. If he wants to see chaos, this becomes particularly handy. Arkham uses his compulsive lying to deceive others, to get out of trouble or danger, or even to seduce a female. Hostile - of, pertaining to, or characteristic of an enemy; not friendly, warm, or generous; not hospitable; a person or thing that is antagonistic or unfriendly. Arkham is not usually the friendly type, even when he's around females. They are his top interest, of course, but he can't help his temper or his rude tongue. He does not like company, it's as simple as that. Others just outright bother him and irritate him to no end. He will bare his teeth, swat, and snap his jaws at others if they get too close to him. Resilient - springing back; rebounding; recovering readily from illness, depression, adversity, or the like; buoyant. Arkham is particularly resilient. He will be back on his feet in a matter of time whether the cause is disease, injury, or emotional. He doesn't grieve for too long and often speeds through relationships because of this. If there is a death in his family, he will be the first to be back to his every day routine after about a week or so, and sometimes between then as well. Assertive - confidently aggressive or self-assured; positive: aggressive; dogmatic; having a distinctive or pronounced taste or aroma. Arkham knows fear. He believes that to press fear on another will produce submission, and at times it has. He is not afraid to push someone else into a submissive position and will often try to do so. He never turns down fights or even spars and loves to rip flesh and taste blood. Like this personality trait, he has an assertive scent that will raise the hair along your neck and cause alarm the minute it reaches your nose. Misanthropic - the general dislike or distrust of one's own species. The male doesn't like his own kind. He leads a fairly solitary life because of this. He believes wolves are vile, insolent, obnoxious creatures that were hung in the balance of life simply because a greater being had no where else to put them. He loathes what he is, what they are, what they've become, and will verbally discriminate against them sometimes. | |||||||||
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history
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When I was born, I'm led to believe I was born into a dysfunctional family. My father Bane abused my mother. He would bite Ivy and throw her to the ground, smack her head off of things, trip her, and rape her. I suppose that's how I was conceived. I like knowing I was a mistake. I'm the worst mistake he ever made. I'm also lead to believe that's how my sister became an incapacitated freak. Others would stare everywhere we went. My mother and the bastard that courted her every night took us to a pack. They wanted nothing to do with us, but they were hospitable and they welcomed us.
Basil was rejected by them. She was too slow, too marred by the hindering of her genes because of her father. She never had a rank, even when we turned one. She irritated me. She was nothing but a waste. Our litter shouldn't have ever even been born, but I had no say in that matter now. Brother Lex excelled in everything that Basil and I could not. However, who's to say I wanted to? All I ever did was lay about and drowse off into short naps all day. Prowl about the darkness at night, searching for others that were not meant to be on our lands. They perished under my teeth and claw, the intruders. But they were not the only ones intruding. The days grew longer and my patience shorter as Basil conjured a habit of following me around. So I took her to the lake one day and ended her life. I remember she spattered blood into my face as she tried to form words that she could not, the gasps in her throat for air muffled by my broad paws. I watched her eyes roll back, the life draining from her. It aroused me to see her going limp, so I tried to mount her. And then someone happened upon me. He was a red-orange rustic color, with eyes as blue and deep as the ocean. He reminded me of my father, which only heightened my rage. I lunged for him immediately when my brother appeared, brows furrowed and teeth bared. I threw my first opponent to the ground, listening to him land with a rough smack against the dry soil. When I looked to Lex, he was staring at Basil's body, wide eyed and full of fear. His eyes filled with the knowledge that if he didn't escape, his life would surely be taken, and so he spun on his paws to flee. But my teeth snapped down on his tail and I yanked him back toward me, letting go only to bite down harder on his flank. The fight was uneven, and I could feel teeth in my hide and claws against my flesh. But somehow I managed to survive, although I can't say the same for them. I bathed myself in the stranger's blood, covered up my tracks, and returned to our pack. "Someone help! Basil, and Lex are under attack!" I shouted, rushing into our homelands. Sentries and scouts alike rushed into the forest, the scent of the stranger locked in their adenoids. A grin spread across my muzzle, genuine and awry as it slithered across my lips and disappeared. I remained in the shadows that night, preparing myself for what would come next. The only thing I remember is the darkness, the argument, and the heavy scent of blood. The bastard. My father knew what had happened. But I denied his accusations while my mother watched helplessly behind him. He bit me and snarled in my ears, but I held my temper. "STAND UP FOR YOUR SON YOU COWARDLY WENCH," I screamed at her, but she did nothing. He continued to lunge and tear at my flesh. "I did it," I finally huffed. "I killed Basil. I killed Lex. And now it's your turn." I can't recollect what happened after those words rolled off my tongue, but I do remember the foul scent of iron in the large pools of blood that surrounded me when the sharp, stinging pain of my cuts brought me back to reality. Ivy and Bane lay there at my feet, their eyes and skin as pale as the satin silver rays of the moon that lit up the crime scene. There was blood was everywhere. I fled after that, and never turned back. I knew the pack would be after me, after all of my ... 'happenings'. I'm in a new place now, somewhere to start again. | |||||||||
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