09-09-2017, 03:00 PM
| He was alone. For so long, he had been isolated, hidden in the dark caverns and corners of the world. The silence had consumed him. Slowly he disappeared and rotted away with it. The darkness protected him, letting him thrive, and keeping him from becoming nothing but a useless carcass like so many that have come to pass. He has a purpose though, a message from the very fiery depths of hell itself. He was carved and manipulated by the very essence of evil. Fed by the lies of the devil himself to whisper into the innocent ears. A wickedness planted within the very black, hollowed heart of his. He is a servant to his master, bent to serve to his will alone, and driven to bring anarchy and devastation. A purpose had already been driven into him since birth. It had grown like wildfire in him, driven by his own internal instinct. He had never been innocent, already was he tainted by sin itself since birth. Sinner is what they have called him. He came as an omen, a force that would not be reckon with. ---- It calls to him now—the beast within. The hunger that is selfish and manipulative. He answers to it without question. The adrenaline is more than he can handle. It pushes and flows through his veins, shaping and shifting his form, answering to the craving so eagerly and ready. He is a slave. A salve to masters that harbor darkness and destruction. He is chained to the core. Hurdling and fleeing to escape is not a thought that crosses his mind. He simply answers the call, lifting from a long slumber in the depths of the deepest cavern. ---- The instinct is natural when he shifted and shapes into a wild beast. He is black as the night, fur and scales, with red and yellow glowing eyes. A hound on the loose—crying out for blood, craving flesh and bone. He follows the scent, mouth drooling wildly. The hound moves over the frosted grass. Paws carrying him easily over the winter worn ground. His pace is quick and precise. Carefully, he moves through the wide-open land. Cling, clong, clank. The rattling of bones against one another quickly draw his attention. Eager red and golden eyes searching. His mouth drips with saliva at the edges as he finds the source of the sound. The girl and her bones. He is curious, and so he makes his way to her. There is nothing to fear of this girl and her bone-thing. He only finds something familiarity in what she is, what she possesses and does. Is she the one that had called? He thinks to himself. It only made sense the way he had stumbled upon her and the bone-thing she kept at her side, manipulating and giving life to it. As he comes closer, he does not care to make his presence known to her. She, as he guesses, had already noticed someone coming her way. Curiosity would bring strangers or friends her way. “Who are you,” he growls as he draws to a stop near her. It is more of a statement than a question. |
Profile | Detailed Bio | Character Reference
Most likely always in his hellhound form