⎳ ▻ Ｂ Ｌ Ｉ Ｇ Ｈ Ｔ ⦁ open world wolf roleplay ⦁ !ACCEPTING!

[deadwerewolf]

...

....

D ᴏ ɴ ’ ᴛ . T ʀ ᴜ s ᴛ . ᴛ ʜ ᴇ . E ᴀ ʀ ᴛ ʜ . Y ᴏ ᴜ . W ᴀ ʟ ᴋ . O ɴ

╔ .ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏᴅs ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.. ╗
ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ sᴀꜰᴇ.
╚ ...ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ...╝

ʙ ʟ ɪ ɢ ʜ ᴛ is a realistic wolf roleplay that operates on the player’s
free will. Whatever unfolds next is up to you. There are no packs,
no ranks, and no dominants. Your wolves arrive here in what feels
like a nightmare – there is no way out. You hope that the end is nigh,
but the Gods have only just begun.

Teams will form among the young wolves, but these are purely for
protection. We also have a unique system of primary 'skills' that you
can build your character around: Charisma, Navigation, Resourcefulness,
& Vitality, and each team will need to consist of as many of them as
possible in order to survive.

Characters will 'wake up' in the unknown lands - full of lakes, forests, and
mountains. They may forget who they are or where they came from, but it
is not essential to the plot. Wolves will meet, make friends, and work together
to get through whatever the Gods choose to throw at them.
Lone wolves don't last long against the Blight.

⇨ ᴅɪsᴄᴜssɪᴏɴ & ꜰᴏʀᴍ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ ⇦

[deadwerewolf]

...

....

D ᴏ ɴ ’ ᴛ . T ʀ ᴜ s ᴛ . ᴛ ʜ ᴇ . E ᴀ ʀ ᴛ ʜ . Y ᴏ ᴜ . W ᴀ ʟ ᴋ . O ɴ

Rule 1 : Characterisation is the most important factor here,
so sticking to the skill you chose and staying loyal to your own
characterisation is very important. No flawless characters.

Rule 2 : Romance is not the plot here. You may have a crush,
but do not make it your focus. Two characters per person, but in different teams.
Work as a team to survive & try and pair up as quickly as possible to get the RP going.

Rule 3 : Fights & deaths are allowed, but they must be in-line with the CS rules.
You can be injured & will ultimately heal in a little while, or help from a resourceful
wolf. Wolves do not need to show dominance, as alliances means all wolves are equal.


Teams & Alliances :
Here are the current official teams & individual alliances:

Current season :
Early Spring - deep, yet slowly melting snows, icy water, and prey is appearing.

Current event :
Blizzard - Winter isn't going without a fight. find shelter in caves or thick forests.
Wolves are unable to see far, hunt, or travel far from where they wake up.
Social aspect : possibility to share shelter or help each other find it.

[deadwerewolf]

...

....

D ᴏ ɴ ’ ᴛ . T ʀ ᴜ s ᴛ . ᴛ ʜ ᴇ . E ᴀ ʀ ᴛ ʜ . Y ᴏ ᴜ . W ᴀ ʟ ᴋ . O ɴ

About the territory :
The lands seem endless. There are rivers and lakes, thick forests, harsh mountains,
and deep mysterious caves dotted across the land. Seasons are harsh and distinctive -
temperatures will enter the extremes. Your character(s) can wake up anywhere,
anytime, but we suggest keeping it near the others for easier roleplay.

About this thread :
We have a concept called 'God-Posts' where myself or PoisonedApple will set the
scene, describe what event is happening (or is going to) and maybe include the
travels of an NPC such as Oracle. Pay close attention to these, as your wolves can
go off the details - especially as a navigator will feel the onset of danger first.

Questions & Discussion :
This is a strictly roleplay thread. If you have questions or would like to discuss teams,
events, or skills, please visit our discussion thread instead. Questions or discussion
aimed at myself or PoisonedApple should be sent to us privately, and we'll reply a
lot quicker. If you have any suggestions events, NPCs, or updates - PM us also.

Imagination & restrictions
Though this is a realistic roleplay, you may talk to other animals (if you are a
charismatic wolf), and describe the terrain you are in to your liking, so long as
someone hasn't already. You may create caves, forests, or lakes as you please,
as there is no strict map to go by.

[deadwerewolf]

res

just in case

[deadwerewolf]

．................
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ＥＶＥＮＴ １： ＢＬＩＺＺＡＲＤ． ＩＣＥ.. ＡＮＤ.. ＳＮＯＷ.. ＷＩＬＬ.. ＢＥＧＩＮ.. ＡＳ ..ＳＯＯＮ.. ＡＳ.. ＹＯＵ ..ＷＡＫＥ．

Wake up. Muscles aching, bones creaking, heart pounding. You can no longer dream. This is your new reality. Get used to it, fast.
Wake up. Start running. Find your salvation. You are withering slowly, I can sense it. Ice and snow - you will not know Spring yet.
Wake up. The Winter's Beast is coming. It will bury you. You can run, the wind will be faster. You can hide, the ice will find you.
Wake up. You are alone. No one is here to save you. Death is coming for you. I am always watching. You are nothing to me.
Wake up. You are powerless against the elements. I can smell your weakness.You will not survive, I will make sure of that.
Ｗ．................ Ａ．................ Ｋ．................. Ｅ ．................ Ｕ．................. Ｐ

．................
．................
．................

[deadwerewolf]

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➤ Ａ Ｒ Ｇ Ｏ
...... two years | exhausted | open woods | team: none | tags: open

..........
..........
..........

Was he dead? Had the cold of the open skies finally taken him? Did his alphas crush his windpipe in the night, to strengthen the pack and reduce the mouths to feed? The voices in his head echoed, but it seemed to be the last of his worries. His eyes felt glued shut, and his limbs paralysed as if the life-force had been drained of him. Is this what the afterlife was? Eternal darkness and mocking stranger voices? His brows furrowed, and Argo swallowed, but little saliva remained in his mouth, and suddenly his palette was made of cotton. One paw at a time, Argo thought to himself, and his nerves flickered awake, sending signals down to his small, dirtied paws. They spasmed suddenly, but worked, and that was good enough for him. One by one, his limbs awoke, and though they all had feeling, they were infected with pins-and-needles, causing Argo to breathe in harshly through his clenched jowls. All at once, the young male pushed himself upwards, as he always had. Through thick snows, and sleepless summer nights, Argo was always able to bring himself to his paws - this bought of exhaustion? It was nothing.

His legs shook beneath him, knees begging to buckle and push him face-first back in to the melting snows. His rusty pelt dripped with the receding Winter's touch, nourishing the pale grasses below. The icicles from the branches of the scarce trees around him followed suit, though threatened to come crushing down on any unsuspecting creature on the ground. It took him a minute, but finally his vision cleared a fraction more with each blink. Argo's gorgeous aqua eyes were met with what seemed an ordinary territory spread far and wide around him, but he sensed a darkness stirring within. That is when it hit him - the brute was forced backwards, limbs stumbling frantically in recoil - and darkness consumed him once again. Screams, mixed with desperate howls. Whiteness buckled his knees finally, pushing Argo in to a bow. A shiver came over him; icy fingers trailing down his spine with a distant, cruel laugh. The force of snow pushed down on his spine, his nose forced to grace the mud, and froze every muscle so he appeared as a bronze statue in the rays of sunlight burning down from the canopy. He gasped a breath, pushing himself up as the whiteness released its hold on him, and locking his joints in place. The young male was too scared to open his eyes; his heart beating rapidly, as if it may explode. If this were the afterlife, he already knew it to be hell.

word count: 443

[yeeee.]

⚡ B A R A K
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
( six years ) | (charismatic) | ( location ;; unknown??? / scraggly trees ) | (tagged ;; argo) (wd: 1186)

He had died.

That was the only explanation he had as to why he felt about as fresh as elk droppings on a fine summer's day, and why he could not remember anything at that present time. He could see nothing, feel nothing, hear nothing - except for the frantic beating of his own heart. What a haunting melody it was! ba bum, ba bum, Ba BUm, BA BUm, BA BUM - it seemed to sing to him, reminding him of his failures to protect- but wait a second. If he could hear his own heart, was he truly dead? I don't think our spirit has a heart. But no one has ever lived to tell of it, so how would I know? Yet his ill timed humor did nothing to alleviate the cold fingers of confusion, fear and despair grasping him. Had he truly died and gone to hell for his sins? What were his sins? Who was he? W-what is this? It was only after a few seconds of this paralyzing terror did natural instincts and bodily function activate and he gasped, as if he'd been drowning and just now was coming up for air, yet as he sharply inhaled he was greeted with cold liquid instead of oxygen. Thrashing yet not opening his eyes, the confused young wolf rolled away, hoarse wheezing sounds escaping him as he greedily sucked in the oxygen he so desperately needed, a cold sting greeted his wanting lungs. Winter. Although he knew nothing of his own identity, he knew that cold meant winter, and winter meant suffering.

Finally his orbs peeled open - slowly as if he were suffering from sleep paralysis, in spite of his terror - and immediately he was greeted with a hazy, blurry landscape of white and green. For some reason, that struck a cord within him - for a mere second, he was standing on cracked, sunbacked earth, surrounded by windblown shrubbery - and then his eyes refocused to reality, and before him was a miniscule puddle a mere two inches away that had almost ended his existence. That was, if he was still really was in existence - that much remained to be discovered. Squeezing his eyes shut for a mere minute, he forced himself to breath, his petite chest heaving, his vision slowly altering between focused and unfocused. What is happening? What is this place? After a few seconds of catching his breath, he attempted to drag himself to his paws, and after only a couple of failed attempts to he was standing. Immediately, he stumbled forward, stepping into the puddle, only to gaze a strange face - effervescent amber flecked orbs shadowed by long brown ears and elongated gray and white muzzle. Barak. The name came to him, and a surge of relief washed through his body. Yet with that name, dark words bubbled to the forefront of his mind. You will not survive, I will make sure of that. Relief flickered through him at those last remembered words. "I'm alive, then?" the words slipped from his maw unbidden, much to hoarse and out of breath for his liking, but hearing his own voice made him feel sure. Barak. He was Barak. And he was alive, because whomever had gotten into his head had told him he would not survive had verified that, because you could not kill what was already dead. Sure of his identity and of the situation he was in, Barak felt a bit more confident.

That much verified, Barak surveyed his surroundings. It appeared he was in a field - a field coated in rapidly melting snow. Young grass shoots peered around sizable snow mounds, and he could see flower buds emerging from every uncovered crevice. Subconsciously, a small smile worked its way across his face. Wherever I am, it is strange indeed, but I don't think hell has flowers. As if reading his thoughts, an unusually cold gust of wind worked its way up his spine, causing a shiver to wrack its way down the entire length of his body. Strange, considering the early shoots of spring were already appearing. You will not survive, I will make sure of that. Realizing immediately that he musn't get deceived by his surroundings - after all, you caught more prey with deception than blunder - the young brute immediately began to decide on a viable course of action. Staying here isn't an option. There is no shelter, no food. Glancing over his immediate surroundings, slower this time, the young brute realized everything was eerily silent. No birds chirped, no insects bustled about. It was deathly still, except for him. Am I alone? Possibly. Barak did a 360 - less than a couple of miles from his present location he could see the shadow of a few scraggly pine trees reaching to the sky, appearing normal from his location. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't look. It was after he took his first step and pain reverberate through him - now, of all times did his shock wear off - and Barak winced. It was his left shoulder. Bruised? Dislocated? Or worse? Although such an injury would typically trouble one, Barak instinctively tested the pain - not unbearable - and decided that he was to find comrades and shelter as soon as possible, then worry about his injury. Because, safety in numbers, and it wasn't that bad. Really. That is, if anyone else is in here, that same dark voice sang out from the back of his mind.

Taking off a steady lope, the petite wolf quickly devoured the ground beneath him, gracefully traversing snow slicked shrubbery and hidden rocks, in spite of his injury. After a few steps, it became easier. After a few minutes, he found himself nearing the trees. I do not wish to attract unwanted attention by howling out, but it appears I have no choice. It is better to have whatever is here and possibly wolves know of my presence than to huddle alone, confused and injured. Even though it seems as if spring is coming to this place, the cold winds seem to promise more snow- he was snapped from his thoughts by the sound of something organic between the trees. Barak instinctively lowered himself to the ground, cautiously stepping forward although he was well aware he probably altered this organism to his presence by running up. Upon nearing, Barak peered through, and felt his breathing stop. It was another wolf, a young brute at that, with a dark brown pelt, bowed in the snow, hyperventilating. Frozen for a second - other wolves were here! - the leggy brute cleared his throat and straightened to his full height, not even bothering to try and correct his snow-tousled pelage.

"Greetings fellow victim, glad to see another soul's alive 'n kicking in this dismal place," Barak all but sing-songed out, a peculiar smirk twisting his shadowed face and highlighting his features in an unflattering light. Stopping a respective distance away, not tense but definitely not completely loose, the gray wolf tilted his cranium, his amber flecked gaze never daring to break away from the kneeling male. "You hurt? Need some help?"

[White Eagle]

☽Raul☾
3 years old - Male - Bisexual - Iberian Wolf - Charismatic - Alliance: none - Word Count: 489 - Tags: Argo and Barak

'Wake up,' was whispered in his ears as he attempted to shelter himself from the voice. Its low tone started to frighten the young male.'Hurry,' was whispered in his left ear which caused an instant twitch to occur. This voice, however, sound different it was more feminine and youthful. 'He is all alone,' was faintly heard as if his attackers were trying to hide from him. 'Do not open your eye. The darkness will get you.'....'Open those eyes,' this time he could feel the anger in the words. Yet, he relayed the voice again and again. Its owner must be an elder female. 'Ignore them for they are not real.'....'Raul,' was yelled in unison which caused the wolf to finally give in and open his eyes. The once warm and dark dream was soon an icy quite woodland. A quick breeze of cold air hit his face causing his nose to twitch and his body to have a quick shiver."He-hello?" His ears turned towards the left as he could have sworn he heard the sound of a stick breaking. "An-anyone there?..Uh..I-I am lost." The young Iberian took only a few steps forward into the snow before tripping on a root which sent him tumbling down the hill for nearly ten seconds. Upon hitting the bottom his face was stuffed into snow near pine trees which only made him most curious. 'Where am I? This is not home....Wait-what IS home?!'

After lifting his head from the snow, he shook his body to release as much of the frozen water stuck in his fur. After opening his hazel orbs he could see in the distance a bright shade of orange. Was it a fox? Or was it a mirage? Who could tell? As for Raul, he saw this as a chance to not remaining alone. With a quick dash towards the mysterious figure, he jumped over some rock, a creek, and even a log, only to get a quick glimpse of them. He slid to a halt as his eyes focused on the wolf from his behind only to be surprised by a new looming figure. Raul hid low behind a bush to size up the new figure. The term figure soon switched to perpetrator when his ears heard the word 'victim.' 'Victim?....I should not intervene. But I need information as to where I am. They clearly do not have a great relationship, so maybe they know each other. And if they know each other than they must live here. Ok. Wait for it aaaand....Now!' With one leap the wolf stood upon a small ledge that overlooked the two wolves. "Is there a problem here, my friend?" The calming eyes look at the dark brown wolf before squinting at the older and muscular wolf. "I think it is unfair to fight an unmatched opponent....I have some questions for you two and I need answers. Let's start off with where am I?"

[.:Shuckles:.]

➴ ── ＢＥＡＲ
xxxxx8 years ➷➷ male ➷➷ bisexual ➷➷ vitality ➷➷ in the snow ➷➷ alliance: none ➷➷ word count: 587 ➷➷ tags:

He blindly follows the echoing voices, intermingled wails, whines, and whimpers, of a dozen familiar cries. The resounding silence in the wake of their mournful howls, the abyss which swallows all sound. Swirling mist in endless darkness, smoky-gray against the pitch black of looming shadows. A desolation unknown to him, he who had the warm tender caress of family, of friends, of a lover. Stripped from these connections the cold creep of chill rushes in, stealing the warmth from him with the memory of their love and affection. It is with a sinking feeling of pure dread that amnesia clouds his mind, erasing the last remnants of color and light and warmth from the oblivion in which he dwells. His deep and powerful voice is nothing more than a whisper, a choked sound of anguish escaping him as his lungs turn to ice stifling each breath. A pull ─ a twisting, ripping, tearing sensation in every muscle, in every strand of fur ─ then push, and the ice sprawls to consume him whole. Each limb heavy with the weight of a million million crystals of treacherous snowflakes, dissolving quickly against the heat of his skin only to spread their frosty embrace deeper into his soul.

With a defiant huff, Bear's massive head breaks through the soft, freshly fallen snow. Buried to the tips of his ears in a shallow-but-wide snowbank, drifting winds pelting him with more of the suffocating white. "The weather's real nice today, ain't it?" he cursed breathlessly, scrabbling with his rear legs for any kind of purchase against the slick, slippery, melting ice. He considers resting for a moment, shoulders hunched with the monumental effort of excavating his bulk from the clinging, freezing snow. But he knows that the cold will only sap his strength, and to lay down and fall asleep here means death.
That is of course, if he isn't already dead.

Bear's not entirely certain how exactly he ended up trapped in the snow, nor is he entirely certain of who he is. Best not to dwell on the matter, not when there were more important things to be doing than pondering over his current predicament. Like getting out of cold for one, before his nose and tail froze off for good. Gritting his teeth, Bear was determined to survive. He was going to stubbornly overcome this latest obstacle like all the many that he'd faced before. Planting broad paws firmly on the ground, wide webbed toes gaining newfound traction in the wet slide of settling snow, Bear lurched forward.

One step, ground gained. Then another, and another. Slowly but surely ─ with all the steadfastness of a receding glacier ─ Bear dragged his bulk forward, and managed to carve himself out of the snowbank and onto more solid, icy ground. "Mmhmm..." he hummed triumphantly in victory, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he collapsed back into the loose, lightweight snow. The whirling winds that whipped up the snow and tussled his frigid fur drowned every sound. He couldn't hear anything over the cacophony of moaning gusts, wailing gales, and the rushing of blood in his ears, except for the harsh rasp of his own exhalations. They puffed out into small clouds of steam, each breath then condensing to form crisp little icicles on his snout. He snorted in laughter, dislodging the most uncomfortable of the ice crystals from his nostrils. Oh, he was starting to get too old to be playing in the snow like a pup.

[alphatoros]

☁ M O U S E
male | six years | homosexual | resourceful | location: somewhere in a forest | alliance: - | tags: open
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It was cold. Freezing was perhaps the better term, a situation Mouse certainly didn't remember putting himself in. His den wasn't cold. He had ensured it was covered with leaves and lined with soft grasses specifically to keep in the heat. Wait...what den? Where did he live?
An excruciating flash of pain cracked through his skull as memories flooded into his mind, causing his stiff and numb body to flail and kick out and an agonised whimpering to escape from his maw. He wasn't sure how long this would go on, but it would need to stop before he passed out if he stood a chance of survival.

The memories stopped flowing and Mouse was able to retake control of his body, breathing heavily with a dull throbbing headache a brutal reminder of the ordeal he had just endured. "Ouch" Mouse murmured, taking a deep breath of crisp, cold air. He forced his eyelids to open, and was surprised to see he was in a forest. The memories that had just harassed him had assured him that he had in fact been in a den. Frowning in confusion, he went to stand up and realised that his body was still stiff and unfeeling. Mouse slowly began moving his legs, and when he was certain they were listening to him, he stood up shakily. As the feeling returned and he shook off the layer of snow that was covering his pelt one of his legs gave out, and he once again found himself in the snow. He sighed heavily, and once again pushed himself up into a standing position.

Mouse looked around. This certainly wasn't somewhere he recognised. He inhaled deeply in an attempt to smell something familiar, but as he expected it was foreign territory. He considered his options; it was probably better to try and find a pack, but the possibility that they were violent was a dangerous one. Not that he had much of a choice, of course. He needed to choose a direction to walk.

He began walking in a randomly chosen direction when a stinging in his left paw caught his attention. Looking at the ground one of his pawprints was covered in a layer of blood, and a nearby rock he had been lying next to when he awoke had a slick covering of it. Obviously in his thrashing he had injured himself, and with the numbness of his body he hadn't felt it. His resolve hardened. He had to find others, they could help him collect leaves or moss so he could stop the bleeding.