Username: Gadgetrocks
Keld Name: Inanis (Latin for void)
Gender: Male
Reason for wanting them: If I were to win him, he would be my second keldine. His design is beautiful, and though it's complex, I feel like I could do him a justice and get him plenty of art and love. I also get a lot of plot ideas from just looking at him, and I think he could bring some much need development to my other Keld,
Nimbus. Nimbus currently doesn’t have too much development, but with another keld to develop him with I think my AU would start shaping up. (I’d also try and get him a mate so he could have plenty of chaos kiddos)
Just a small story/sample of a plot I’d develop more if I won him.
Inanis was a god. A keldine of unfathomable power, a deity revered by all. The mortals loved him, the celestial’s respected him, and even the unliving things of the worlds seemed to appreciate him. He’d commonly visit the mortals, giving gifts and blessings, leading to a great deal of love and admiration. He’d fight monsters for them, protect the weak from horror beyond imagination. Despite the attention he received from the world, and the care he put into it, darkness still existed. A kingdom had been taken by a mysterious ailness, citizens pelts and eyes draining of color and turning jet black as they turned their backs on family and friends and roamed like lawless beasts, attacking others to drag into the shadows. Inanis was tasked with investigating, being a deity and all. He followed one of those infected with the darkness to where it went once the sun rises, a large hole on the outskirts of the town, gapping and dark, ashy particles and goo spread around the rim. He entered it, looking around at the slime covered wall, evil eminating from all around him. He followed the dark keldine deeper and deeper, the tunnels stretching on forever. Eventually it stopped in a large spacious room, crumbling to the floor in apparent sleep. Confused, he nudged the corrupt keld with one arm, and yes, it was passed out among the ashy ground of the tunnels. As Inanis looked around, he noticed more infected keldines, fast asleep or slumped over among the slimy passages. In the middle of the room, there was a almost pulsating dark mass of something. The way it moved was almost hypnotizing, drawing Inanis closer and closer to it, the god stretching out his pale extra lumps to touch it. As his paws made contact though, a piercing pain shot through him, something the god had never felt before, being immortal. The sleeping kelds lept up, attacking him with teeth and claws, leaving dark gash marks in his fur. He tried his best to run, the goop from the mass still stuck to his paws as he fled. The keldines chased him like a pack of rabid wolves, not stopping until he’d heaved himself out of the hole and back into the sunlight, where they couldn’t roam. Panting and injured, Inanis collapsed, right then and there. He was racked by nightmares, surreal horrible dreams, unlike anything he’d experienced before. He woke in a cold sweat, still at the rim of the hole, the sun slowly sinking behind the horizon. He was terrified, a feeling the god had never had before. He’d always been fearless and powerful, but that seemed to be gone, stripped away. He quickly hurried home, trying to forget what had happened.
Over the next few weeks, things got worse. The nightmares increased in frequency and intensity, Inanis rarely getting a moment of good sleep. And where his paws had touched that dark heart? They’d blacked themselves, dark lines slowly winding over his white fur, starting and the front of his body. Each day it got worse, spread along his pelt like an infection. His temper worsened, snapping at the mortals he once loved and hurting the ones he’d once only peacefully stopped. His magic grew out of control, random outbursts of powerful magic happening sporadically, putting Inanis and the mortals at risk. By the time his eyes had glazed black, he knew he had to stop himself. He created a pocket dimension, locking himself inside it, worried about hurting anyone else. He thought it had worked. The darkness stopped spreading across his fur, the nightmares calmed. But his mind grew darker. Soon enough, Inanis lost himself to the corruption inside him. Though he still called himself Inanis, he was no longer the hero he once was. A dark creature wearing his fur and using his mind, the real Inanis having succumb to that pulsating darkness long, long ago. This monster in Inanis’s fur tried its best to escape, claw its way of the place the real Inanis had locked it in. It took years, the mortals forgetting about their god, Inanis turned to myth and old parchment. But eventually, it ripped. The magic holding him in gave out, and Inanis, the dark god, was born.