Post by Pan Wildchild on Aug 2, 2010 22:44:41 GMT -5
Pan Wildchild
He has no picture.
[/b][/size]He has no picture.
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Starting Fresh
FULL NAME: He has none that anyone knows of. He's been living alone in the wilderness practically since birth, so his true name is only known to him and him alone.
NICKNAMES: The residents of Curr like to name what is unnamed to them- and for this he is always referred to as 'Pan Wildchild,' or simply Pan.
GENDER: Male
SEXUALITY: Heterosexual
AGE: 18
CANON OR ORIGINAL: Original
BERK OR CURR: Curr
Get the Picture
HAIR: He has a shaggy and unkempt mop of hair, a dirty blond mess he doesn't do much with. It is a little past ear-length and rather scruffy.
EYES: A rather swampy green shade
HEIGHT: 5"9
WEIGHT: 137 lbs
SCARS: None visible.
PIERCINGS: None.
TATTOOS: One small inking of a feather resides between his shoulder-blades, and an even smaller copy of the same feather lays beneath his left eye.
Know the Person
LIKES:
+ Solitude
+ Griffins/Dragons {He isn't afraid of neither and likes both their looks.}
+ Flying
+ Gillyweed, his griffin.
DISLIKES:
- Crowds
- The majority of people
- Curr, even though he 'technically' belongs there.
- The treatment of griffins
STRENGTHS:
+ Swimming
+ Flying on Gil
+ He is silent and stealthy, making him a formidable adversary.
WEAKNESSES:
- Gil is his sole weakness- If anything happens to his griffin it is as if it happens to him. He believes, secretly, they are connected, body and soul
- Nature. He lives, most of the time, either in a bog on the outside of Curr, or in the Forest outside of Burk. Because he spends more of his time outside than in, he has been attuned to nature and any little blip in the usual sets him off.
- Flight. He loses himself when in the air, making him exceedingly vulnerable to attack. Gil usually watches him, though.
- He is kind of scrawny-ish, so he isn't the strongest kid around.
FEARS:
- Gillyweed being taken away
- The Burk citizens waging war on the Curr
- Being 'caught'.
SECRETS:
+ Gillyweed, his griffin, speaks perfect Norse and acts as his mouth for the boy is supposedly mute- but truthfully he can speak as well as any other viking. He uses Gil as his voice for he believes wasting his speech on the Curr who injure their beasts isn't necessary.
+ No Burk citizen has ever seen him, and if one did, he is considering keeping both himself and Gillyweed mute out of curiosity.
+ He secretly wishes to own a dragon along with his griffin, simply to see what it would be like.
PERSONALITY:
* Silent / Honest
He is quiet as a mouse, a stealthy and silent youth whose agility lends him strength in such aspects. He uses his acrobatic abilities and noiseless form to steal supplies from the town of Curr when he needs it- though it isn't technically stealing if you leave money and a note. The residents of this griffin-grabbing village always know when the 'wild-child' has been looting their store, but they usually welcome the business.
* Kind / Considerate
Very attentive to his griffin and its needs, Pan seems to be the complete opposite of a Curr villager. He is quick to feed his beast, to scratch it behind the ears, and believes no luxury is too small for his feathered friend. Gillyweed, in turn, is considerate of his owner, and tries to help him out as much as he can.
* Alert / Cautious
* Stealthy / Agile
* Brave / Courageous
* Rude toward others
* Shy
Face The Facts
FAMILY: Deceased.
FRIENDS: -------
OTHER: None
PETS:
Name: Gillyweed
Nickname: Only his rider may call him Gil and get away with it.
Species: Sweagriff
Gender: Male
Image: Click for image!
Description:
Towering over your average Eagriff as only his species can, Gillyweed is one huge birdie. From the massive lions build to the hooked talons that act as his claws, this creature looks like a dangerous predator. With a sharp curved beak to match the bird-like toes, and two large multicolored wings resting heavily on his back, he seems an impressively awe-inspiring beast. His pelt is a vibrant array of green shades, striping and spotting his form like a splattered canvas. He has the cord-like appendages most Sweagriffs boast sprouting form the base of his tail and spots behind his ears, cords ending in lovely large peacock-esque feathers. His entire body seems a mask of scars, one of the most prominent ones being a slash across his left eye. He can still see from it... luckily.
Personality:
A dignified and refined creature who is more playful than a puppy worrying a bone, Gillyweed is the epitome of 'mans best friend'. He is a bubbly and bouncing spirit who enjoys livening things up- that is, at least in the wilds or with pan. Throw any other human into the situation and he turns cold and ruthless. Being gifted in the language of Vikings so he may aid his supposedly mute comrade, Gillyweed acts as the diplomat in all of Pans dealings. When his tongue is required it is usually to pass on Pans soundless words to humans... an act the brute detests. He is cold and calculating around the citizens of Curr, watchful and wary in case he is forced back into a life of abuse by the 'griffin riding populace'.
HISTORY:
Born to a pair of unnamed villagers in the Curr town, his mother knew from the moment Pan was produced that he would be different. Their son, so silent as a child, was effortlessly talented at prompting the family griffins to do as he said without the use of whips or chains. Wild creatures seemed to flock to Pan in his childhood, which earned the family good business for his parents constantly trapped and sold the feathered beasts who fluttered his way. But pan hated that, hated how his mother and father shot down the wild ones who came to him for nothing more than a scratch behind the ears. And so, on the eve of his eighth birthday, the kid departed to live on his own in a neighboring swamp.
Twelve years of age saw him struggling to haul in the game from his makeshift traps. A deer caught in the noose of one such particular trap was frantically tugging the chiming bells attached to the rope, alerting the boy [and anything else that happened to be around] that dinner had just waltzed in. Slow from the cold of the winter day, he trudged quietly to the place of the trap, only to find a much larger beast chowing down on his prey. Hungrily Pan watched, tipping his head to watch the feathered creature who was snacking. After a few moments of watching the newly-appearing Sweagriff stick its beak into the meat, the young boy walked over, carefully sliced the rope that had the carcass hanging in the air, and sat cross legged next to the deer. The griffin kept on eating, though its yellow eyes seemed to watch the kid who sliced bits of meat off for his own belly. After it was satiated the swamp monster simply left, retreating back to wherever it came,
The creature kept appearing, however, every time it seemed Pan had caught something larger than a rabbit. The kid didn't mind- he liked the Griffin, for it was a lovely color and didn't seem to mind his presence, and they continued on like that for a while, Pan feeding the brute with whatever he caught, the feathered creature appearing whenever it was hungry... and occasionally when it wasn't, in which cases it simply showed up and curled up to rest next to the pallid child it had 'adopted' as its nestling. They lived like that, quiet creatures, except when the kid expressed an interest to go to the village, in which times the battered griffin would speak for his 'caretaker'.
{I hate histories. urgh.}
Behind the Mask
NAME: Nemoooo.
CHARACTERS: None so far.
WHERE YOU FOUND US: Surfing proboards. x)
CONTACTS: PM works best.
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE:
It isn't HTTYD related, but it'll do, I'm hoping. It's also super-de-duper annoyingly long, as it was an intro for this huge plot-type-thing I was in. ^^'
It was quiet that day.
Silent as death, though death herself was far away, attending to business on the other end of the world.
It was dark as well, the setting sun casting lopsided shadows across the flat ground. Dried and cracked dirt canals marked where water once flowed, though the clear blue-ish liquid had long since disappeared from the terrain. The grass that had previously been green and springy was growing brittle and yellower by the day, and frost accumulated on the bare patches of ground, drawn there by the fallen dewdrops. This was truly no place for a foal.
Or two.
"Envy! Find us food, I'm sick of this yellow grass, it tastes worse than pine-cones!"
"Pride... You've never had... pine-cones."
The first foal was larger, his coat darker and fluffier, though it hung on his emaciated figure limply. The second was merely a scrap, skin and bones by the look of her thin figure. Foals like those two should still have been with their mother, especially in the chilly months that were approaching Zeira fast. But there wasn't a grown horse in sight, and the two foals were two thin and hungry-looking to have been taken care of. The smaller had a look in her eyes, the look that ones without hope get when you glance right through their eyes and into their hearts and minds.
She looked hunted.
She looked as if she had witnessed murder.
Or committed one.
It was an evening similar to this, though in a land far away. She still remembered her mother, a beautiful paint mare who was as unbreakable and untouchable as any other wild thing. She was a goddess in the minds of her two foals, the sun in their world, the master of everything. They listened to her and she loved them, she loved them with every fiber in her body. Envy never doubted this, Pride never tested it. They just could feel it in the way their mother watched them with her beautiful green eyes, how she whinnied their names every few minutes to make sure they were still around. She was god, and they were her disciples.
Then Diablo came, a black horse with... powers. His eyes blazed crimson with unnatural energies, his neighs and calls carrying echoes of screaming lost souls. It was as if the Devil himself had appeared before the small herd-less family. And he had.
Diablo had been watching their mother, watching her with his blood-colored eyes and licking his lips with a sadistic smile. Old visitors never dropped by anymore; Cannibalistic Diablo would have stripped their bones of flesh like a piranha in seconds. He was horrible. But he was beautiful. He stood at seventeen hands high, towering over the foals and over their mother easily. His pelt was as black as the night sky, but it accentuated every muscle on his form flatteringly. His mane was the perfect length, though it swirled around his head unnaturally, always whipping and writhing, as if made of live snakes. It might as well have been.
The foals mother was terrified of him at first. She kept as far as she could from the stallion at all times. Month by month went by, the stallion did not leave and the foals had been weaned and were eating grass easily.
Their mother and Diablo had an understanding. They had coexistence, a..... compromise.
They had made a deal the first day Diablo had appeared to Goddess, their mother.
That had been the night Goddess had learned she was pregnant.
Pregnant with the son and daughter of the dark horse, of the hell stallion. She had cried at first. Cried, whinnied herself hoarse, and tried often to kill herself.
But Death wouldn't dare claim the wife of the Devil, for Death had no right. And Death could die at the hooves of only one creature, at that was the Husband of the creature she couldn't claim, the creature she couldn't ferry to her rightful resting place.
Diablo had explained to her that his children should each be given the name of a sin, a sin they would eventually become the living embodiment of. Goddess didn't fight it, for she knew Diablo and knew his word was Law. The parents chose Envy and Pride, for Diablo could sense both emotions in them. The four lived... Peacefully for several months.
And then the foals met Death.
Death had whispered in their ears at night, whispered of their Father, Diablo, and of their Mother, Goddess, who was rightfully Death's. Pride ignored these whisperings, for Pride was a proud horse and he believed that none could whisper into HIS ears, for he was too great to be whispered to in the night.
But Envy listened, and she understood.
Envy then became Deaths disciple, agreeing to the creatures plea for help at claiming their mother and spiriting her away from the clutches of the Devil.
Envy wanted her mother safe, she wanted her away from Diablo and for Diablo to leave.
The stallion scared her, but more importantly....
She scared him.
Death instructed her for weeks. By the end of her learning period with death, Envy knew every poisonous plant and berry withing the twenty mile radius. She was ready for her mission, and Death was ready for Goddess to pass into her Embrace. The Angels were waiting for Goddess to come, and their humming voices filled Envy's ears and mind.
Then came the night. Envy made sure Pride was asleep, for she didn't want her brother to witness her carrying out the mission of Death's. She had squirreled away some juicy leaves from her secret hideyhole, spreading the juice of a poisonous berry lightly across the leaf and letting it soak in the sun for the past two days. A chew, a swallow, and the deed was done, she had been told. She had trotted to her mother, the special leaf held carefully in her mouth. She proposed a sort of toast, taking the un-poisoned leaf in her mouth and nudging the other to her mothers.
"This is to Death who you belong to, To the Devil who claimed you, and To the Angels who will save you."
Goddess had stared at her quizzically before chewing up the leaf. Her head had dropped nearly instantly, and the scream of the Devil sounded in the distance. He sensed Death catching the Soul of his wife, and sensed Death sending her up to the Angels. He also sensed Envy.
And he knew what she had done.
Envy had dashed back to Pride, waking him forcefully and whispering "Run," to the sleepy foal. "Run fast."
No one can outrun the devil, that much was true. But the Devils Children can certainly run for a while.
Diablo didn't bother chasing them, for his anger had turned on Death who had reappeared beside him. She was a distraction, for Death wasn't ready to take the Devils children onward or downward yet; In fact, she downright refused.
And when Death refused the Dead, the Dead stayed alive, even if they were hunted by the Devil themselves.
Even if they were killed.
The Children of the Devil had run endlessly, never stopping, never pausing until they got to the land called Zeira. until they found these 'Adoption Fields' and took up residence. The Devil wouldn't follow them to this place, for it was considered herd land and The Devil couldn't enter where he hadn't permission.
They were in those fields now, tired from the run that had happened a week from today. They rested and ate what little they could find. Envy, out of the terror she had felt all throughout the escape from Diablo, had become quiet. Quiet and modest. She let herself be ruled by her brother, treated him like they had treated their mother. Now her brother was her God. How long until death whispered about him too? How long until Diablo would get them, claim them, and keep them locked up tighter than their mother? How long would they be captive until they could find someone to work for Death as Envy had for their mother?
Shaking the grim thoughts from her head, Envy smiled the thinnest and tiredest of smiles and whispered quietly to her brother, "Come on Pride. I shall find you green grass and wildflowers. And clean, cold water. I shall find us a herd."
Envy was a foal of her word, for she called and whinnied her lungs out daily, trying to draw someone, anyone, to them. They needed a Herd, an Alpha, a new God.
All Envy wished was that their new God to not have had dealings with Diablo.
Creatures from Hell were what Envy wanted least right now.
Silent as death, though death herself was far away, attending to business on the other end of the world.
It was dark as well, the setting sun casting lopsided shadows across the flat ground. Dried and cracked dirt canals marked where water once flowed, though the clear blue-ish liquid had long since disappeared from the terrain. The grass that had previously been green and springy was growing brittle and yellower by the day, and frost accumulated on the bare patches of ground, drawn there by the fallen dewdrops. This was truly no place for a foal.
Or two.
"Envy! Find us food, I'm sick of this yellow grass, it tastes worse than pine-cones!"
"Pride... You've never had... pine-cones."
The first foal was larger, his coat darker and fluffier, though it hung on his emaciated figure limply. The second was merely a scrap, skin and bones by the look of her thin figure. Foals like those two should still have been with their mother, especially in the chilly months that were approaching Zeira fast. But there wasn't a grown horse in sight, and the two foals were two thin and hungry-looking to have been taken care of. The smaller had a look in her eyes, the look that ones without hope get when you glance right through their eyes and into their hearts and minds.
She looked hunted.
She looked as if she had witnessed murder.
Or committed one.
It was an evening similar to this, though in a land far away. She still remembered her mother, a beautiful paint mare who was as unbreakable and untouchable as any other wild thing. She was a goddess in the minds of her two foals, the sun in their world, the master of everything. They listened to her and she loved them, she loved them with every fiber in her body. Envy never doubted this, Pride never tested it. They just could feel it in the way their mother watched them with her beautiful green eyes, how she whinnied their names every few minutes to make sure they were still around. She was god, and they were her disciples.
Then Diablo came, a black horse with... powers. His eyes blazed crimson with unnatural energies, his neighs and calls carrying echoes of screaming lost souls. It was as if the Devil himself had appeared before the small herd-less family. And he had.
Diablo had been watching their mother, watching her with his blood-colored eyes and licking his lips with a sadistic smile. Old visitors never dropped by anymore; Cannibalistic Diablo would have stripped their bones of flesh like a piranha in seconds. He was horrible. But he was beautiful. He stood at seventeen hands high, towering over the foals and over their mother easily. His pelt was as black as the night sky, but it accentuated every muscle on his form flatteringly. His mane was the perfect length, though it swirled around his head unnaturally, always whipping and writhing, as if made of live snakes. It might as well have been.
The foals mother was terrified of him at first. She kept as far as she could from the stallion at all times. Month by month went by, the stallion did not leave and the foals had been weaned and were eating grass easily.
Their mother and Diablo had an understanding. They had coexistence, a..... compromise.
They had made a deal the first day Diablo had appeared to Goddess, their mother.
That had been the night Goddess had learned she was pregnant.
Pregnant with the son and daughter of the dark horse, of the hell stallion. She had cried at first. Cried, whinnied herself hoarse, and tried often to kill herself.
But Death wouldn't dare claim the wife of the Devil, for Death had no right. And Death could die at the hooves of only one creature, at that was the Husband of the creature she couldn't claim, the creature she couldn't ferry to her rightful resting place.
Diablo had explained to her that his children should each be given the name of a sin, a sin they would eventually become the living embodiment of. Goddess didn't fight it, for she knew Diablo and knew his word was Law. The parents chose Envy and Pride, for Diablo could sense both emotions in them. The four lived... Peacefully for several months.
And then the foals met Death.
Death had whispered in their ears at night, whispered of their Father, Diablo, and of their Mother, Goddess, who was rightfully Death's. Pride ignored these whisperings, for Pride was a proud horse and he believed that none could whisper into HIS ears, for he was too great to be whispered to in the night.
But Envy listened, and she understood.
Envy then became Deaths disciple, agreeing to the creatures plea for help at claiming their mother and spiriting her away from the clutches of the Devil.
Envy wanted her mother safe, she wanted her away from Diablo and for Diablo to leave.
The stallion scared her, but more importantly....
She scared him.
Death instructed her for weeks. By the end of her learning period with death, Envy knew every poisonous plant and berry withing the twenty mile radius. She was ready for her mission, and Death was ready for Goddess to pass into her Embrace. The Angels were waiting for Goddess to come, and their humming voices filled Envy's ears and mind.
Then came the night. Envy made sure Pride was asleep, for she didn't want her brother to witness her carrying out the mission of Death's. She had squirreled away some juicy leaves from her secret hideyhole, spreading the juice of a poisonous berry lightly across the leaf and letting it soak in the sun for the past two days. A chew, a swallow, and the deed was done, she had been told. She had trotted to her mother, the special leaf held carefully in her mouth. She proposed a sort of toast, taking the un-poisoned leaf in her mouth and nudging the other to her mothers.
"This is to Death who you belong to, To the Devil who claimed you, and To the Angels who will save you."
Goddess had stared at her quizzically before chewing up the leaf. Her head had dropped nearly instantly, and the scream of the Devil sounded in the distance. He sensed Death catching the Soul of his wife, and sensed Death sending her up to the Angels. He also sensed Envy.
And he knew what she had done.
Envy had dashed back to Pride, waking him forcefully and whispering "Run," to the sleepy foal. "Run fast."
No one can outrun the devil, that much was true. But the Devils Children can certainly run for a while.
Diablo didn't bother chasing them, for his anger had turned on Death who had reappeared beside him. She was a distraction, for Death wasn't ready to take the Devils children onward or downward yet; In fact, she downright refused.
And when Death refused the Dead, the Dead stayed alive, even if they were hunted by the Devil themselves.
Even if they were killed.
The Children of the Devil had run endlessly, never stopping, never pausing until they got to the land called Zeira. until they found these 'Adoption Fields' and took up residence. The Devil wouldn't follow them to this place, for it was considered herd land and The Devil couldn't enter where he hadn't permission.
They were in those fields now, tired from the run that had happened a week from today. They rested and ate what little they could find. Envy, out of the terror she had felt all throughout the escape from Diablo, had become quiet. Quiet and modest. She let herself be ruled by her brother, treated him like they had treated their mother. Now her brother was her God. How long until death whispered about him too? How long until Diablo would get them, claim them, and keep them locked up tighter than their mother? How long would they be captive until they could find someone to work for Death as Envy had for their mother?
Shaking the grim thoughts from her head, Envy smiled the thinnest and tiredest of smiles and whispered quietly to her brother, "Come on Pride. I shall find you green grass and wildflowers. And clean, cold water. I shall find us a herd."
Envy was a foal of her word, for she called and whinnied her lungs out daily, trying to draw someone, anyone, to them. They needed a Herd, an Alpha, a new God.
All Envy wished was that their new God to not have had dealings with Diablo.
Creatures from Hell were what Envy wanted least right now.
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