v2 Rhandir Valley :: Newcomers Boards :: Character Descriptions :: Nightrider Wolves :: :: Lantana :: WIP :: Author Topic: :: Lantana :: WIP :: (Read 105 times) Shadow Cat Global Moderator Delta Male member is offline Let me hear your battle cry tonight Joined: Aug 2008 Gender: Female Posts: 137 Location: a world devoid of sanity Karma: 18 :: Lantana :: WIP :: « Thread Started on Oct 19, 2008, 3:20pm » *Under Construction* I am a lover-hater ------------------------------ }{ Birth Blessing }{ Lantana }{ Assumed Alias{es} }{ [*]Lanterna - {latin for "lantern"} .:. A play on her colors and attitude. [*]Lantana - {after the flower, Lantana Horrida} .:. Only preferres those who she respects/respects her to call her this. [*]Tynder - {a misspell of 'Tinder'} .:. Normal alias to those whom do not call her Lantana. }{ Accumilated Age }{ Roughly three years ___________________ I am an Instigator ------------------------------ }{ Gender }{ Female }{ Breed Basis }{ Mexican Grey Wolf x Tundra Wolf x Arctic Wolf }{ Affiliate }{ Nightriders }{ Retrieved Rung }{ Zeta }{ Blood Brothers }{ Cynric - Younger Half-Brother __________________ I am an Oversight ----------------------------- }{ Sight Saturation }{ Amberite }{ Pelt Pigmentation }{ Warm palette comprised off tans, tangerines, and creams }{ Framework }{ Height .:. 28'' Weight .:. 80lbs Stature .:. Thin, light, on the shorter side, and delicate ___________________ Just like a Parasite ------------------------------ }{ Personality }{ Exterior [*] -Dominant- /\ Fearless - what happens, happens /\ Realistic, but optimistic - Life is great, but those in it suck /\ Falsifyingly sweet: sinister - What doesn't kill you, helps [*] -Recessive- /\ Complacent to the point of arrogance - What's the worst you can do, kill me? /\ Fragile - You find my weak spots, I'll give you some. /\ Furtive -Better than a needle in a haystack, honey Interior [*] -Dominant- /\ Easily swayed opinion-wise - If you've got a better plan then say so /\ Has no pups, but retains strong maternal instincts - With birth comes legacy /\ Thinks in terms of herself - So what's in it for me? [*] -Recessive- /\ Compassionate for truth - There is no right and wrong: only me and you /\ Loyal - My first alleagance is to myself. After that, wait in line. /\ Envious - What makes you so special? }{ History }{ What is normal anyway? What a weird term. "Normal". Now who came up with that concept? Regardless, I don't think that's what I'd call my life. The beginning, at least. Daddy dearest was a sweetie for a while, I heard. Ma spoke of him with reverence for a while in the beginning. For my first few months, I swear that was all I heard. How sweet he was, how kind he was, how valiant he was. And that was nice. Great, dandy, lovely, whatever. So where was this perfect guy? We'll get there in a minute. Keep up with me here. I was born into this pack--Sojourn Cadre--alongside a couple kin. I don't really remember how many we were strong: maybe three besides me? Most were darker browns than me, mixed with grays and tans, or some sort of white. No black, no red. Just earthy colors. You'd think me pack would find that cool--maybe for camouflage or something--but no. Dad was an Arctic wolf from a place where the ground was covered by frozen sky water all the time. Apparently he came around our lands every so often for some reason. But whatever the case, mom loved him for a while. Told us he'd come back soon. Why'd he leave anyway? Weren't we--his kids--important? I was too young to understand stuff back then (when I say young, I mean stupid. My litter's youth was wasted by the impairment of my mother. I swore later on I'd never let something like that happen to my pups when I was older). So anyway. First few months were nothing out of the ordinary. We were pretty insignificant, but mommy darling took care of us as best she could by herself. The pack helped--minimally, of course--and for a while all were knew was of the apparent 'best father figure' the pack could ever have known. I became almost jealous because she'd dote over thoughts of him instead of us. Weren't we any good? What the hell. But I sure wasn't jealous when he came back around. I'm not sure how old I was--probably around one. By that time, I remember one of my litter had died due to starvation--she had not been taught how to hunt, and my mother had become too preoccupied with other things, like when our dad came around. But he wasn't really into her, and that broke her. Anyway. From about 7 months on I was trained--partially by myself--to be a hunter. Why? Well, I was fit for it. And by fit I mean I was little, quick, and a girl. What better description of a hunter was there? I mean sure, our pack was Sojourn Cadre, so obviously we want fighters, but whatever. We need more hunters. Who else would feed the fighters? So when daddy dearest came around, he'd compliment me. By the time I was one, I'd become distant from my 'family'. I never really interacted with them, just stuck to my job. None of the higher ranks really paid any attention to me, and I made sure to avoid my mother. When I found out how my dad really was--how.. polygamous he was--I didn't care much for either parent. What sort of delusional world did my mother live in? Who cares. It was probably about that time that I heard of him. Oh, that's right. You heard me. A litter younger than I, but nevertheless more pups. That wasn't the big deal, of course, because our pack was strong and always had plenty of pups to go around. But this litter was different. My.. dad, as much as I may or may not have liked him, certainly did it. I didn't know until later--a while later--he sired the next legend. I didn't know the dame, but even I--so young, so average--heard rumors. It was around my sixth season, I'd say, when it spread like wildfire. Apparently there was a pup--black, of course--whose pelt steadily grew frosted. It was a little hectic then. You never heard about the rest of his litter, but the alpha seemed to fancy him and then some. Almost made me jealous. And suddenly I felt alone. Sure, for a while--the beginning of my story--I'd been optimistic, happy-go-lucky: one of those annoying people you'd like to punch in the face because they're really just being stupidly happy, they just don't know it. But once little ol' Cynny came 'round to a.. profitable age, I felt a little.. misjudged. No, not quite that. It just seemed like I was the only one my age: the adults--I was some sort of awkward adolescent--swooned over him, while the pups--those about a year younger than I--were doted on by their parents, each wishing they'd had the next legacy. But I tried to be happy for them, and for my pack. I spent most of my time hunting, and thus quickly gained the upper hand in tactics over my comrades. I had my envy-driven ambition to thank for that one. So I was head hunter, often specializing in getting the best game for the 'royalty', if I dare say it. And I was honored for that because I could do it and do it well. And you think I'd be satisfied with that. That little.... darling, god-to-be was ripping through moves like I would an elk. Haha, what a comparison, I know. A couple months after his training had begun, I'd seen my father--my dad--stop and talk to Cynric. That was weird. Being my oh-so-stealthy self, I could occasionally watch in on the little one's training. Secretly, I'd even practice some of the moves I'd seen him learn and use. I wasn't plotting against anyone--oh no, don't scorn me that--but even as a hunter I wasn't satisfied. The pack looked at me--a growing adolescent with so much potential--as just a little girl who was young, delicate and maxed out: a pawn. After all, though they did like their hunters, we were nothing compared to the brawlers. That was the only explanation--aside from his stupid pelt (it's just a color!)--as to why they would pick a younger, male wolf over say.. me. Not to sound obnoxious: I could have told you from the beginning there's no way I could pull of royalty. Anyway. I did master some moves; after all, I was wiry enough to twist certain ways--not perfect, but alter some strategies to make them my own. To this day, Cynric is only a sparrow higher than I, and though he's probably got about two rabbits (French lops) on my weight, that's not much to call an 'advantage' in battle. I never intended on fighting him, but that didn't mean I shouldn't know how. Back to the story. I'd heard Cynny call dad--my father--'dad'. How could that be? Cynric's mother was not one I knew particularly, but I did know enough of her to know she wasn't mine. And thus I found we were half kindred. Which didn't surprise me with my dad's .. behavior. Did that make me half-royalty? Ha. I wish. I didn't bother trying to approach him about it--I was upset at the thought. He, too, lacked a parent in the way most take for granted. But, unlike me, his mother probably wasn't delusional. Oh wait, she might have been: with joy. Her son was a miracle. I doubt he'd ever spent a single day in his life with a quavering conscience or guilt for something he didn't do. I doubted that he ever felt lonely or jealous or out-of-place or useless. I know it wasn't his fault that this all played out like it did, but I couldn't help feeling a bit of anger towards him. Jealousy. And it hit home. And then I couldn't keep up. I swear Cynric had a different mentor each couple of days. Sure, I did pretty damn good for a little hunter chick, but he was learning and mastering moves I could only dream of in such short a time I would get bruises or pull muscles trying to even attempt what he was shown. Of course, if ever asked about it, I'd say it was from an elk kick, or a caribou's horns. I think the others doubted me, but they had low expectations: they'd comment on how brave I was, but ones like the higher ranks seemed a little condescending. I resented that. If you're going to lie to me, do it right. I was a little over two I'd say--a new adult, but no one looked at me different then--when he found me. I'd kept my distance from my brother, but not obnoxiously so. He didn't need my help like my direct kin had. He had a perfect life from where I was standing: I saw right through his facade. He wasn't the one who needed pampering. Regardless, he seemed to try to wander through the pack more and more. Didn't surprise me, considering his role. It was only smart of him to start doing so. I just didn't expect him to look so close.. so intently.. I remember how everyone would part ways for him: would hold theirselves close to the ground, tails down or tucks, heads bowed like gravity had stricken them heavy. Their eyes followed. But if they thought I was going to follow, they were idiots. And I guess that's how we met. Oh sure, I knew him. I knew all about him. But he couldn't have had any idea who I was. Another hunter, another pack mate. Maybe. If he thought that much of me, I probably should have been thankful. But that wouldn't be enough. How proud he walked, how sure of himself he was.. It all reminded me of how much I'd struggled and worked for what I'd gotten and where I'd gotten to. And I didn't budge. I stared him down with as much apathy as I could muster, and as I did so, I could feel their eyes turning me to stone. They were mentally repremanding my insolence, but I didn't care. I stood mighty in my place--I'd just brought back a nice feast for the lower ranks, and I simply locked my sights on his royal highness, turning my body into that stone they wanted me to be. But my eyes ever burned. The next day, I decided not to watch in on his training. I was afraid he'd recognize my scent or something. A little silly of me, considering I knew how to hide or disguise my scent with simple tricks of the trade, but I didn't care to risk it. He probably forgot all about me anyway--I was just thankful he didn't send his little minions after me for insubordination. And don't think he couldn't have, either: I got some queer looks after that bout with not 'hailing to his regalty' or some crap. I had better things to do with my time anyway. That, and my little bro's mentor scared the crap out of me, and I would never admit to it. He made me feel--and look--like a pup. Of course I made a clear and concise effort to act as if he weren't real, to ignore the fact that this foreign, black beast was training the pack's 'god'. Hell, why didn't they just take him in as their own and throw out Cynric? Well, so the reasons for that were obvious. But still, he was a creature you had to see to believe: words cannot describe enough. But don't think I like him. As much resentment and disdain I felt towards my kin for things that weren't his fault, I did sympathize. A little hypocritical of me, no? Get used to it. Of all the mentors I'd ever seen--myself almost being considered one for the hunters--there was no regiment that could even come close to comparing with Darcia's. I was almost proud when little Cynny didn't fret, didn't complain over himself, though there were others who did enough of that for him. Maybe some of those 'others' included me. Like I said before, once Darcia came to mentor my brother, I stopped sneaking in on their sessions. I'd almost begun accepting the fact that maybe I was only cut out to be a hunter in a pack of fighters, and that maybe it was all I could do with my pathetic little life. Still, in all my self-loathing and yet with sure self-pity, I continued keeping tabs on my royal blood. I would hear of his mother complaining and I'd want to complain myself. I'd find that often times, though I'd never dare say it aloud, I'd take her side on the arguments, saying that enough was enough with the fighting. After all, you can't win them all. Even that demon of a mentor couldn't have won all his fights. Clearly.. And then, that night came. Oh that fateful night. I was glad to hear that the mentor of Cynric was leaving. Another one down--had he surpassed this one as well? I was unsure. Unfortunately, it seemed my whole life revolved around the mysteries of my brother--my half brother--and my secret connections to his life. I'd stalked him and his actions from the day I found the pack doting on him. I'd fought--in secrecy--and trained to be like him. I adjusted things to counteract him. I juggled being a superb hunter with being what I thought a model older sibling should be, though I avoided him like the plague. Why? Maybe, after all, I was as drawn to him as the rest of them. And when I found him, I wasn't looking for him. Not that time. I'd been trailing the scent of a wounded moose I thought I could take on my own. I could take on my own. And, to be honest, I almost didn't notice the tang of iron in the air, or the aroma of my kind's blood. It was more just an extra sense of.. something was wrong. But when I found him, fleet as I was, his attacker had been gone for a good enough time to take far a lead. That Darcia.. To this day, I've yet to find him. But he will pay for what he did to my brother. I had never felt such.. anger, such madness before. I was ridden with it for moments on end: it paralyzed me as I stared at the body of my very brethren, seemingly betrayed by his comrade. I was a hunter then, as I am now. And that black beast will be my prey in the end. Once I'd regained enough sense of sanity to move, I dared not touch him. Rather, I ran fast as I could to the pack for help. Lucky for me I've got enough speed and stamina to outrun a stampede of tule elk, nevermind a little sprint back to homestead. Oh, but when I brought that news back, was probably the first time I felt anxiety. It tore at the strings of my heart, to see the pack in udder chaos. Of course I led those important to where my half-brother lay, but it took a miracle and a half to keep my apathy: to hold the shield. My paws were itching to pace, my heart beating a thousand times a minute, yet I had to be strong: for him, for them. But I played my hand well. My statuesque held up for the whole time he was confined and resting. I didn't bother trying to see him. The rest of the pack would give him what he needed: dearest Cynric didn't need the help of some low-ranked loser anyway. And when he finally found me, I knew I shouldn't have been surprised. But I think that was the one time I allowed my apathy some lenience. As much as I'd craved the spotlight all my life, I found it awkward. Like always, when the God Himself walked around, all eyes were glued to him. And he hobbled over towards me so easily, so casually, I forgot the world for a moment. But I did not gaze light-hearted, oh no. I had no clue what he knew of me, or what he'd heard. You have to remember, I was not one for conversation, unless it was to younger souls. Souls who were not pampered, were not loved until their hearts overflowed. But this time, through my cynic glare that only he could see goodness in, I watched my brother bow. He lowered himself completely--and not too quickly--and thanked me. I'd only done something anyone else in the pack would have done just the same: someone else might have been quicker, or more efficient. But he'd said he owed me. It was at that moment, when the rest of the pack--whether annoyed or not--chimed in, that I found solice in the fact that I had a younger brother whose life I helped when the others thought it all ready perfect. For even in peace there is war, but war is kind. « Last Edit: Oct 28, 2008, 10:10pm by Shadow Cat » Link to Post - Back to Top   Logged :.: They breed nightmares; dark horses of despair. :.: ♣ Forum Jump--------------------» Home--------------------» General--------------------- Hangout --- Graphics and Art --- Contest Board- Rules- FAQ- Member Updates- Plot Summary- Other Information --- Species- References- Archives --- IC Archives --- OOC Archives--------------------» Newcomers Boards--------------------- Character Descriptions --- Nightrider Wolves --- Ashbreaker Wolves --- Loners/Rogues- Relationship Logs- From Whence the Loners Came--------------------» Independent Roleplay Threads--------------------- Ashbreaker Lands- Nightrider Lands- Outskirts of the Lands--------------------» Main Roleplay Threads--------------------- The Ashbreaker Wolves- Nightrider Domain --- What's Carved in Stone--------------------» Guest Lounge--------------------- Adverts- Affiliates