ＭＡＮＵ ＰＡＣＫ ☪ {Wolf RP}{High Ranks Open!}

[The Devil's Brood]

◤-------------------------------------------◥
m a l o s

- b r u t e -

- t h r e e a n d a h a l f -

- b e t a -

◣-------------------------------------------◢

cicatrices meae -

name. malos. translated from latin: bad.
nickname. mal would suffice.
meaning. bad, evil.
gender. brute.
age. three and a half years old.
previous rank. guard, fighter, subordinate.

anima carnis in sanguine est -

fur. like death himself, malos is cloaked in a jet black coat that shimmers like onyx. his fur is short, but fortunately, he's managed to stay warm during the cold seasons.
eyes. his eyes are what cause this bitter brute to stand out--with piercing blue, a shade so light that it resembles more of a white, eyes, he uses them to intimidate his enemies.
build. malos is strong but not broad or wide shouldered. he has a very lean, lithe body, useful when fighting as well as hunting. his strong legs and nimble paws allow him to sprint easily through the forest, fortunate during the winter season where snow piles up to his knees. his light figure is also useful when fighting. while he has long, sharp, curved fangs for injuring his enemy, his paws and lean frame allows him to quickly dodge and defend himself. during hunting, especially during the time of fall when leaves clutter the undergrowth, he is able to stealthily sneak up on his prey with quiet paws. unfortunately, during both seasons, his dark fur gives away his position often, but, as mentioned, he has the ability to correct his mistake by chasing down his prey.
scars. malos is a hot headed brute, so, naturally, he has a few scars. he has a long scar that slices down his torso, a small scar intersecting about mid way, reaching his stomach. he has many bite mark wounds along his back legs, but while those have begun to fade, a very prominent bite mark from a bear no doubt looms along his right shoulder, taking a few tufts of his beautiful raven fur. He has a small cut above his left eye while he has another one, stretching from the mid-left side of his forehead, cutting down between his eyes and just barely missing his right one. he has a long gash over his snout, no fur visible, allowing you to see the nasty mark a cougar left on him. his worst scar, however, is the burn mark on his throat that took fur with it, leaving the side of his throat bare and grotesque. all of these are weaknesses in battle, which are why malos hates them.

sanguinem, et oppressus crusta

personality. there's a good reason his name is malos--he's been bad news since the day he was born. malos is dangerous, no doubt. he's ruthless, cunning, devilishly charming, bitter, and does not believe in mercy what so ever. he's dark, with dry, ill advised humor, and a sick mind that he inhabited from his just-as-dark puphood. as a young pup, malos was more intelligent than the average offspring of a wolf. he was mischievous, always finding ways to get in trouble, whether it be sneaking out of pack boundaries or stealing bones from his father's den. what both intrigued and worried the older wolves was that, malos did this all so skillfully complex. he planned out his tactics before he did them, which was unusual for such a young tenderfoot. as he grew older, his temper and patience grew on a very short fuse. while he was intelligent and cunning, he was not wise nor thoughtful of other details such as collateral damage or the actual damage and harm it may bring. he held himself higher than others, not possessing a shred of humility.
because other wolves had always thought of him as intelligent, it brought on a type of arrogance, and so he grew up not carrying about the rules. he was defiant, always finding ways to get a rise out of the elders and his alpha. he enjoyed it, which then began to worry the wolves once more. because of his arrogance, he often got into fights, which soon became his favorite activity. he enjoyed to sink his fangs into the flesh of another, to feel the milky substance of blood coat his snout and run through his fur in rivers. he enjoyed dragging out the pain of others, and even as few begged for him to stop, he did not wish to give them mercy, but unfortunately, most of these brawls ended with four or five much larger wolves holding back malos while the opposite wolf fled. of course, malos never won all of his fights, which only made him more determined to get stronger and faster. despite his show of acting all high, mighty, and without flaw, malos has always been determined, headstrong, and about as stubborn as a mule. when he put his mind to something, he accomplished that thing, and when he made a promise, which rarely occurred, he kept that promise.
but something happened when he got older than forced him to become bitter, and while he's always been very brusque and straight to the point, this was something else entirely. he's stoic, and rarely allows anyone, if anyone at all, to know what he's truly thinking. he's impulsive and reckless and isn't realistic or reasonable in his arguments or beliefs. he's closed minded and doesn't follow any principle, code, or morals--he doesn't listen to advice from others or really anything anyone says. as far as he's concerned, everyone else is below him.
pleasures. malos doesn't like nor entirely dislike anything. when it comes to the balance of nature, he's pretty content with how the sky spirits, gods worshipped by his previous pack, run this world. but, as masochistic and cruel as it seems, he enjoys pain, but for a reason that's more saddening than sick. while he's fully aware of how people treat him, he does often have moments when he wonders if he's really a wolf at all with the way he acts. though he really never has any regrets, he knows he's different, and feeling pain helps him realize that he's natural in his anatomy to the least.
as uncharacteristic as it sounds, malos enjoys rain for a very acceptable and reasonable reason: because it smells good. it some way, the smell of rain reminds him of the home he grew up in and it brings back a welcomed nostalgic response. he also likes it because where there is rain, there is a storm, and where there is a storm, there's lightning and he loves the color of lightning as it splits the sky in half.


fears. now while he has very few fears, they are not your everyday worries such as bears, thunderstorms, or poison ivy. malos, in his eyes, is the controller of his universe. he does what he pleases and no one really has ever told him otherwise but what he fears is oblivion, or not knowing what is to come. now while he has experienced this very little, it scares him to his core to not be in control and unbalanced. he fears loneliness, which he unfortunately experiences often because being with company involves having to be affectionate and welcoming, and he struggles being both of those. but, most of all, he fears emotion, and not just emotion as in anger, pride, irritation, because he welcomes those, but the one that scars him more than oblivion or loneliness is love, and that is the tragedy of malos.

Non potes futurum sine cruento praeteritum -

history. malos was the oldest of the current beta male and female of his pack, which was quite large for the average amount. of course, most of it was made of elders that began the pack, taking in loners and run away rogues to form a makeshift group. malos had four other siblings, all females: luna, tundra, ash, and the youngest, fawn, who was the only one who was able to experience the type of affection malos could ever offer. growing up, malos wasn't raised terribly to become a terrible wolf, but he became addicted to the thrill of misbehaving. three of his sisters, luna, tundra, and ash, would pick on him and constantly tell on him, which was the only reason he really ever got caught. and while they were smaller, malos would never lay a claw on them, but he often tore apart other brutes who dared to bare their fangs at his family, and still they never really liked him. all but fawn. out of everyone, even his mother, he adored fawn above all, even himself. it was safe to say that he loved her truly, and although it was natural for brutes to pick a fae and fight for her, malos never allowed a male to court his young sister, and she never scolded about it. often, if malos got into a fight he did not win, she'd take him over to the stream and clean his wounds with the water and by tongue bathing him. he enjoyed quiet moments with his younger sister for that reason--she never shamed him for fighting, but he knew she never really liked it, and he tried to stop but he couldn't remove that one demon he possessed.
it had been a rather good day for malos when the incident happened. it was spring, around the time when the brutes would come to claim faes, and fawn had finally gotten permission from malos to be able to accept a mate of her own, and malos himself was prepared to choose a fae, since he was the heir to the alpha male. fawn, as well as her other sisters, had been the center of attention with almost every male in the pack, which there were plenty of. fawn had rounded up three, which she was content with. malos had watched the entire thing unravel as the third wolf approached, a dark, wide shouldered brute with more scars than malos and twice the muscle. while the other two looked strong, they were nothing compared to this one brute. hound was his name, strangely. malos had stayed afar as he watched the three fight. now, per usual, one of the smaller males teamed with the larger to chase out the other so it left only two, and when hound finally finished him off, he approached fawn. malos, assuming hound was going to go through with the usual act of proposing, turned in preparation for his own fight. he had been in the middle of chasing off a grey wolf, about the same size as malos, away from the fae malos desired when he heard fawn yelping in pain. malos was never one for tradition, and so he easily allowed the grey wolf to have the fae as he ran off to his sister who was currently in the jaws of hound who was ripping into her like a deer. malos didn't think twice in bouldering into him, knocking him away from his sister, only to turn to find her limp on the ground.
the moment malos approached her, he knew she was gone--the one wolf he loved, the one wolf he held above himself...the one wolf who accepted him and love him equally was gone. and then, without hesitation, he worked his fangs through hound's throat in return. the brute was relentless as he, though, clawing at his side and snapping at his ears, but with his nimble paws, he dodged hound's fangs and delivered a fatal bite to the back of the throat. but, despite hound killing fawn, the elders banished malos anyways, and he soon realized the elders would of done it sooner or later. thrown out of the territory, without a word from his other siblings or even his parents, malos walked the earth for many moons, alone and howling to the spirits for his little sister. it physically hurt, more than the pain of a wolf's fangs in your skin, to have his sister dead and he had soon begun to wish he never had loved her in the first place. it was then when he promised he would love anyone again, because the pain of losing someone had been the most cruel thing he's ever been forced to feel, even having him wish he couldn't feel a damned thing.
love life. malos has only loved fawn, but has never loved anyone platonically and he never wants to.
family. aero [father], winter [mother], luna [oldest daughter, younger sister], tundra [sister], ash [sister], fawn [youngest sibling, sister]

[.bluejay.]

Jace, Bey, Eragon, Saphira and Brigit curled up together and fell asleep.

[~R E N E S M E E~]

◤-------------------------------------------◥
m a l o s

- b r u t e -

- t h r e e a n d a h a l f -

- b e t a -

◣-------------------------------------------◢

cicatrices meae -

name. malos. translated from latin: bad.
nickname. mal would suffice.
meaning. bad, evil.
gender. brute.
age. three and a half years old.
previous rank. guard, fighter, subordinate.

anima carnis in sanguine est -

fur. like death himself, malos is cloaked in a jet black coat that shimmers like onyx. his fur is short, but fortunately, he's managed to stay warm during the cold seasons.
eyes. his eyes are what cause this bitter brute to stand out--with piercing blue, a shade so light that it resembles more of a white, eyes, he uses them to intimidate his enemies.
build. malos is strong but not broad or wide shouldered. he has a very lean, lithe body, useful when fighting as well as hunting. his strong legs and nimble paws allow him to sprint easily through the forest, fortunate during the winter season where snow piles up to his knees. his light figure is also useful when fighting. while he has long, sharp, curved fangs for injuring his enemy, his paws and lean frame allows him to quickly dodge and defend himself. during hunting, especially during the time of fall when leaves clutter the undergrowth, he is able to stealthily sneak up on his prey with quiet paws. unfortunately, during both seasons, his dark fur gives away his position often, but, as mentioned, he has the ability to correct his mistake by chasing down his prey.
scars. malos is a hot headed brute, so, naturally, he has a few scars. he has a long scar that slices down his torso, a small scar intersecting about mid way, reaching his stomach. he has many bite mark wounds along his back legs, but while those have begun to fade, a very prominent bite mark from a bear no doubt looms along his right shoulder, taking a few tufts of his beautiful raven fur. He has a small cut above his left eye while he has another one, stretching from the mid-left side of his forehead, cutting down between his eyes and just barely missing his right one. he has a long gash over his snout, no fur visible, allowing you to see the nasty mark a cougar left on him. his worst scar, however, is the burn mark on his throat that took fur with it, leaving the side of his throat bare and grotesque. all of these are weaknesses in battle, which are why malos hates them.

sanguinem, et oppressus crusta

personality. there's a good reason his name is malos--he's been bad news since the day he was born. malos is dangerous, no doubt. he's ruthless, cunning, devilishly charming, bitter, and does not believe in mercy what so ever. he's dark, with dry, ill advised humor, and a sick mind that he inhabited from his just-as-dark puphood. as a young pup, malos was more intelligent than the average offspring of a wolf. he was mischievous, always finding ways to get in trouble, whether it be sneaking out of pack boundaries or stealing bones from his father's den. what both intrigued and worried the older wolves was that, malos did this all so skillfully complex. he planned out his tactics before he did them, which was unusual for such a young tenderfoot. as he grew older, his temper and patience grew on a very short fuse. while he was intelligent and cunning, he was not wise nor thoughtful of other details such as collateral damage or the actual damage and harm it may bring. he held himself higher than others, not possessing a shred of humility.
because other wolves had always thought of him as intelligent, it brought on a type of arrogance, and so he grew up not carrying about the rules. he was defiant, always finding ways to get a rise out of the elders and his alpha. he enjoyed it, which then began to worry the wolves once more. because of his arrogance, he often got into fights, which soon became his favorite activity. he enjoyed to sink his fangs into the flesh of another, to feel the milky substance of blood coat his snout and run through his fur in rivers. he enjoyed dragging out the pain of others, and even as few begged for him to stop, he did not wish to give them mercy, but unfortunately, most of these brawls ended with four or five much larger wolves holding back malos while the opposite wolf fled. of course, malos never won all of his fights, which only made him more determined to get stronger and faster. despite his show of acting all high, mighty, and without flaw, malos has always been determined, headstrong, and about as stubborn as a mule. when he put his mind to something, he accomplished that thing, and when he made a promise, which rarely occurred, he kept that promise.
but something happened when he got older than forced him to become bitter, and while he's always been very brusque and straight to the point, this was something else entirely. he's stoic, and rarely allows anyone, if anyone at all, to know what he's truly thinking. he's impulsive and reckless and isn't realistic or reasonable in his arguments or beliefs. he's closed minded and doesn't follow any principle, code, or morals--he doesn't listen to advice from others or really anything anyone says. as far as he's concerned, everyone else is below him.
pleasures. malos doesn't like nor entirely dislike anything. when it comes to the balance of nature, he's pretty content with how the sky spirits, gods worshipped by his previous pack, run this world. but, as masochistic and cruel as it seems, he enjoys pain, but for a reason that's more saddening than sick. while he's fully aware of how people treat him, he does often have moments when he wonders if he's really a wolf at all with the way he acts. though he really never has any regrets, he knows he's different, and feeling pain helps him realize that he's natural in his anatomy to the least.
as uncharacteristic as it sounds, malos enjoys rain for a very acceptable and reasonable reason: because it smells good. it some way, the smell of rain reminds him of the home he grew up in and it brings back a welcomed nostalgic response. he also likes it because where there is rain, there is a storm, and where there is a storm, there's lightning and he loves the color of lightning as it splits the sky in half.


fears. now while he has very few fears, they are not your everyday worries such as bears, thunderstorms, or poison ivy. malos, in his eyes, is the controller of his universe. he does what he pleases and no one really has ever told him otherwise but what he fears is oblivion, or not knowing what is to come. now while he has experienced this very little, it scares him to his core to not be in control and unbalanced. he fears loneliness, which he unfortunately experiences often because being with company involves having to be affectionate and welcoming, and he struggles being both of those. but, most of all, he fears emotion, and not just emotion as in anger, pride, irritation, because he welcomes those, but the one that scars him more than oblivion or loneliness is love, and that is the tragedy of malos.

Non potes futurum sine cruento praeteritum -

history. malos was the oldest of the current beta male and female of his pack, which was quite large for the average amount. of course, most of it was made of elders that began the pack, taking in loners and run away rogues to form a makeshift group. malos had four other siblings, all females: luna, tundra, ash, and the youngest, fawn, who was the only one who was able to experience the type of affection malos could ever offer. growing up, malos wasn't raised terribly to become a terrible wolf, but he became addicted to the thrill of misbehaving. three of his sisters, luna, tundra, and ash, would pick on him and constantly tell on him, which was the only reason he really ever got caught. and while they were smaller, malos would never lay a claw on them, but he often tore apart other brutes who dared to bare their fangs at his family, and still they never really liked him. all but fawn. out of everyone, even his mother, he adored fawn above all, even himself. it was safe to say that he loved her truly, and although it was natural for brutes to pick a fae and fight for her, malos never allowed a male to court his young sister, and she never scolded about it. often, if malos got into a fight he did not win, she'd take him over to the stream and clean his wounds with the water and by tongue bathing him. he enjoyed quiet moments with his younger sister for that reason--she never shamed him for fighting, but he knew she never really liked it, and he tried to stop but he couldn't remove that one demon he possessed.
it had been a rather good day for malos when the incident happened. it was spring, around the time when the brutes would come to claim faes, and fawn had finally gotten permission from malos to be able to accept a mate of her own, and malos himself was prepared to choose a fae, since he was the heir to the alpha male. fawn, as well as her other sisters, had been the center of attention with almost every male in the pack, which there were plenty of. fawn had rounded up three, which she was content with. malos had watched the entire thing unravel as the third wolf approached, a dark, wide shouldered brute with more scars than malos and twice the muscle. while the other two looked strong, they were nothing compared to this one brute. hound was his name, strangely. malos had stayed afar as he watched the three fight. now, per usual, one of the smaller males teamed with the larger to chase out the other so it left only two, and when hound finally finished him off, he approached fawn. malos, assuming hound was going to go through with the usual act of proposing, turned in preparation for his own fight. he had been in the middle of chasing off a grey wolf, about the same size as malos, away from the fae malos desired when he heard fawn yelping in pain. malos was never one for tradition, and so he easily allowed the grey wolf to have the fae as he ran off to his sister who was currently in the jaws of hound who was ripping into her like a deer. malos didn't think twice in bouldering into him, knocking him away from his sister, only to turn to find her limp on the ground.
the moment malos approached her, he knew she was gone--the one wolf he loved, the one wolf he held above himself...the one wolf who accepted him and love him equally was gone. and then, without hesitation, he worked his fangs through hound's throat in return. the brute was relentless as he, though, clawing at his side and snapping at his ears, but with his nimble paws, he dodged hound's fangs and delivered a fatal bite to the back of the throat. but, despite hound killing fawn, the elders banished malos anyways, and he soon realized the elders would of done it sooner or later. thrown out of the territory, without a word from his other siblings or even his parents, malos walked the earth for many moons, alone and howling to the spirits for his little sister. it physically hurt, more than the pain of a wolf's fangs in your skin, to have his sister dead and he had soon begun to wish he never had loved her in the first place. it was then when he promised he would love anyone again, because the pain of losing someone had been the most cruel thing he's ever been forced to feel, even having him wish he couldn't feel a damned thing.
love life. malos has only loved fawn, but has never loved anyone platonically and he never wants to.
family. aero [father], winter [mother], luna [oldest daughter, younger sister], tundra [sister], ash [sister], fawn [youngest sibling, sister]

{Accepted, I'll be updating the front page}

[.bluejay.]

(I just looked at the front page and for now, Jace and Bey are loners, sorry for the confusion)

(If you are updating the front page, can you fix this?)

[~R E N E S M E E~]

{Sure but aren't they going to join?}

[.bluejay.]

(Yes but they should be tested for their rank)

[kuromi.]

ＶＡＮ.

van was about to answer venus's question when she heard a howl and saw her friend run off in the direction of it. she followed venus and quietly slipped into the healer's den. she sat in the corner of the den, not wanting to invade the privacy as the pups where born, and then followed venus out of the den, yawning quietly.

ｃｈａｃｈｉ.

chachi looked at her, shrugging. " well, it's okay. in the past few months i've been sneaking in here. so, i know most of the place. i was actually quite surprised that you guys barely found me right now. the only thing i'm worried about is how the other pack members will react to a wolfdog. "

[.bluejay.]

Jace, Bey, Eragon, Saphira and Brigit curled up together and fell asleep.

[~R E N E S M E E~]

V E N U S

She yawned, Van' s yawn attacking her. "Maybe we could nap under the sun in the meadow?"

[.bluejay.]

Jace woke up and decided to stay up in case Henry came. Jace laid in front of the den, guarding it.