[~Nonexistant]

You can now apply

[Sen507]

Ooh, I am tempted to fill out a form. But I have a question, the form says that it is a female though in the picture, it is a male. This one is a male right? The form seems to be already partially filled out for a different RAW... I would love to own one of these since I simply have a love of robot dogs (my username is based off of the most intelligent robot dog commercially available). I was also wondering, would I need to join the RP if I won one? I'm just not certain that I can keep up with an RP. Also, do I need to make art of the character for the forms? I can try but I am not very good at drawing wolves, I mostly draw humans. I've already started on the story though.

[rainbowbarf990]

so scary man!!! i don't know what to think of it!!!! WHAT IS IT!!!! although, you should be in intermidiate. you ar an amazing drawer!!! get your little tooshie in intermidiate right now!

[starry--knight]

friendly bump!

[~Nonexistant]

Bump. Guys, please adopt him T_T Hes been waiting for months.

[Sen507]

Oh, really? I started filling out a form to adopt him a few months ago then thought he wasn't up for adoption since you didn't post, I'll finish up my form and post it later today probably.

[SpartanAmethyst]

Wait, you're telling me this handsome boy has had no applicants all this time? He does now.






SpartanAmethyst




#39


Michael
In honor of the Bogeyman from Silent Hill: Downpour. In my fanfiction, the Bogeyman used to be a human, a soldier named Michael who was cowardly in his wartime actions, and after death he was doomed to live the rest of his afterlife as a punisher in the town of Silent Hill. Copyrighted fanfic, sorry :3




Male ♂


Quiet, emotionless, but able to hold his own, Michael doesn't really require companionship to live. He spends most of his time apart from the pack, wandering, as if he's searching for something. Being an Omega, he's often pushed around, and though it becomes irritating, Michael typically only tolerates it and doesn't fight back unless the beating becomes extreme. Highly stubborn but somehow exceedingly patient, Michael seems to be much more docile than any other RAW before him, whether by the absence of fight in his spirit or his tendency not to care, the reason is unknown. Michael also has made it habit to trust literally no one, and though he'll every now and again talk to others he really doesn't ever make "friends". He shows no interest in finding a mate, either; all he ever seems to do is wander and search. Quite often he's thought about going rogue, as he's very self-sufficient, but he's never truly gone through with the notion. No one knows why. Maybe it's the slight fear of the alphas becoming hostile towards him, but the reason is still shrouded in as much mystery as he is.




((I'll be jumping around a bit as ideas come to me, sorry.))

Quiet. The sound of nearby Rased moving slowly through the underbrush, their molars steadily grinding the canopy leaves. Michael flicked off his crystal blue bionic eyes, focusing only on sound. He could hear the soft sound of the air filtering through his mask, the scent of decaying vegetation noticeable on the nearly still wind. His ears flicked back; there were a pack of Serens in the brush about a kilometer away, but Michael wasn't worried about them. He heaved a sigh as his eyes flicked on again, highlighting the few stray streams of sunlight that filtered through the trees. He took a deep breath and stood, descending slowly into the dark, clear puddle below. The water was cold around his paws, and the wind smelled of electricity and rain. The rest of the pack would be seeking shelter, but he didn't fear the storm. In fact, he enjoyed them. He moved into the cover of the treetops, relying on them to keep the rain off of the metal plates that plagued his body. He disinterestedly watched the streaks of sunlight fade, signalling it was going to be another stormy night. Michael sighed and decided that he better start looking for tonight's shelter.

He didn't get far before he heard the sound of Serens nearby, barking and yelping. They had no doubt found a meal, and he was a little hungry. Pausing his search, he followed the sound down into the nearby ravine. As he cleared the top of a sloped rock and looked down into the small clearing, a bolt of lightning behind him illuminated the scene below; five Seren were circling one of the young trees, and it that tree was a small human girl, no more than a pup herself, clinging onto the branch for dear life. Staring at the human, her crystal blue eyes suddenly looked up from the vanguards of her destruction and into the lighted orbs of his own eyes. They were pleading and fearful; she didn't want to die. Michael sighed; his pack nature was telling him to leave the human, let her die for what her species did to he and his brothers, but he couldn't. Something was drawing him to the girl, and without even realizing it he had dropped into a stalking pose, his scruff standing on end as a demonic growl emanated from his throat. He didn't even have time to stop himself.

With a single, powerful push from his hind legs Michael leapt from his perch, landing nearby to the Serens vying to get at the girl. He growled and snarled, spooking the pack of the five. At first, they seemed confident to take on the lone wolf, but after one of their number fell by his fangs, they quickly rethought their decision. Michael watched in satisfaction as they tore off into the underbrush, yelping and barking a fearful warning to the rest of the group. He sighed and looked up, the logical part of his brain still wandering why he had reacted in such a way.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, irritated with himself. She shook her head no, but didn't make a single sound. "Good, now go home," he said gruffly, turning away to stalk off. He vaguely registered the sound of her sliding down the tree to noisily land on the ground below. It was a few silent moments before he heard her trailing behind him. "I told you to go home," he sighed, not even looking back at the thirteen year old.

"B-but you saved me. I owe you something in return," she stuttered softly, staying behind him despite the worsening rain.

Michael sighed. "Leave me alone, girl.There's a storm coming, get back to your human camp before you get killed," he huffed, beginning to walk away. But instead of leaving, he heard the girl's footprints still follow him. His right ear twitched in irritation. "You know our kinds aren't supposed to mix, right?" He muttered.

"Why?" She asked simply, the girl walking beside him as the rain began to fall in large, irregular drops.

Michael then went to answer, but found he had no answer good enough. "We just aren't supposed to, kid. That's all I can tell you. Humans and wolves have hated each other ever since we crashed here." The girl went silent as thunder rumbled overhead, and lightning struck nearby. But it wasn't the thunder that made them both stop; the sound was much louder and more violent than the thunder had been. Suddenly Michael recognized it as wood cracking. Looking up, he saw a branch far above separate from its mother tree and come hurtling towards them. "Move!" He yelled, though he knew she wouldn't move fast enough. Reaching out, his teeth sunk into the stained white shirt she wore and he leapt forward, pulling her away just as the branch crashed to the ground.

He growled and stared down at her. "You're trouble, kid. I hope you know that," he huffed, beginning his long trek to find shelter again.

"I know," she whispered. "That's why I left."

At her words, Michael turned to stare at her for a long moment, searching her up and down. He sighed, the aggressive mentality that the metal had engraved into him fading away into his subconscious again. "Alright," he muttered. "You can stay with me, but only for the night, and only because of the storm," he said sternly. "We're not friends, I'm not your buddy, and i can still choose to kill you at any time. Keep that risk in mind. Now, help me find a cavern."

The girl was silent for the rest of the trip, up until Michael stumbled upon a cavern. The entryway was dark, but in the very back he could see a blue luminescence radiating off of the slick walls, vibrant blue crystals growing from the slightly-upward sloped ground. It would do for the night. Michael slowly pushed some dirt around before lying down, curling up facing the entrance. He felt the girl come around behind him and lie down too, her back just barely brushing his coat. He let out a long sigh. "What's your name, kid?" He asked suddenly.

"Amethyst," she murmured in response. "What about you?"

He was silent for a long time. He didn't want to be called experiment thirty nine by her; something about just that thought nauseated him. "I don't have one," he finally conceded, figuring it was safer than just telling her what everyone called him.

"Michael," she suddenly said.

"Michael?" He asked.

"Since you don't have one!" She grinned; he merely rolled his eyes. "It was my dad's name, before he died." Michael turned to look at her, unable to hide the curiosity in his bionic eyes. She looked away from him, her demeanor becoming one of sadness."He was killed on a hunting trip two years ago. Momma said that he had been attacked by Serens, but when I saw his body he had a laceration in his jugular, one very similar to the knife of a rouge that had been plaguing our camp."

"Are you going after him?" Michael inquired.

"No. Revenge is useless, as it only causes more pain. I wouldn't mind if a pack of Serens got him, though," she joked, her blue eyes slowly drifting shut as exhaustion overcame her. He smiled a little behind his mask and he laid his head down, sighing softly at her joke. As they laid together in the dark cave, Michael decided he'd force her to go home tomorrow; he hated to admit that he kind of enjoyed her company, but it was too dangerous for her to stay with him. After he was rid of her, he'd be able to make his final decision.

-//-

The next Morning

Michael sighed heavily, his body slowly waking up from it's warm place within the crystal cavern. The blue glow had faded with the morning sun, and the world outside was alive with the sounds of birds and a human scream- wait, a human scream?

Suddenly Michael's head shot up, realizing that he couldn't feel Amethyst beside him. he whipped his head forward and took off, not even bothering to stretch. In the distance he could hear her scream again, and he made a beeline for her, even braving the river crossing that he had always so desperately hated. He snarled as the forest faded into a meadow at the base of the mountain, Amethyst curled up on a rocky ledge crying. Below her, the same pack of Serens snapped and snarled, circling like vultures near to a dying calf. He vaguely noted the bite wound on her leg and the dark blood that spilled from it, and suddenly his anger erupted.

Grabbing the nearest Seren by the scruff, he whipped around and used it like a weapon, slamming its pack mates away from the ledge. Releasing it and sending the dog-like creature into the nearest bushes, he grabbed another by its tail and did the same. The last two he had some difficulty with, but again killed another of their little party of four and sent the last conscious one hurtling to safety. He snorted before he rushed over to the human, easily leaping up the way the Serens could not.

"Amethyst," he said breathlessly, checking over the wound. "You have to get on my back." He noted how slowly she was moving and how tired she looked, but her arms slid around his neck as she struggled to balance on him. In his mind a map formed of the immediate area, his mental compass pinpointing the human settlement as he made a break for it; nothing was going to stop him. A second leap across the deep, rapid-filled ravine and he hit the meadows, the long, pale grasses tickling his nose and threatening to make him sneeze. He resisted the urge, his paw beats thundering across the open meadow as the very tops of makeshift buildings became visible. Feeling Amethyst begin to lose her grip he snarled and grabbed her sleeve, keeping her on his back for a little while longer.

Finally he raced into the camp like a whirlwind, skidding to a halt a few buildings in. Lowering the girl to the ground, he called out to the rest of the humans. "Amethyst is injured! She needs help now!" He commanded, his ears pinning as the humans that saw him either ran or grabbed a weapon.

"Get out, you wretched thing!" One of the men yelled, and Michael snapped at him.

"Can't you see she's dying?! A Seren has bitten her right ankle, and the poison is spreading fast! If there's any chance to save her, she needs help now," Michael growled. There was a long tense silence, both Michael and the village's leader locked in a staredown to decide dominance, as well as who would get their way. Finally that silence was broken by the shuffling footsteps of an older man, one who had lived on the planet for most of his life.

"This wolf has bonded," he wheezed, this small hands thin and frail-looking. He would not harm the girl, nor will he harm us. Come, take the girl. I may be able to help her."

More silence. "Yes, Doctor," the leader finally conceded, moving to pick up Amethyst. Michael quickly stopped his with a vicious snarl and did it himself, carrying her in and lying her down gently on one of the makeshift beds. His nose burned with the scents of many different herbs as he watched the doctor begin his process: clean the wound, apply herbs, cover with a special almost antibacterial plant, let sit for an hour, repeat. Michael watched as Amethyst slept soundly, even despite the fever she had developed upon arriving. He stared intently, sitting by her head and every now and again lying down to rest his neck. By the time the Doctor had finished his last treatment, the moon had reached the high point of it's nightly travel.

"I've done all I can," the Doctor murmured. "Now it will be up to her to decide if life is worth fighting for or not."

"What do you know of our bonding, old-timer?" Michael suddenly asked, his masked face turning towards the man.

"I know many things, and that is common knowledge though a RAW has never bonded to a human before. You are the first. But you will come to understand it in time, your kind doesn't seem to let go of grudges easily."

Michael contemplated the Doctor's words long after the old man had left. Standing up and making sure he was alone, he briefly licked Amethyst's clammy forehead. "Hang in there, stubborn girl," he whispered. "You're safe now. Get better, your home wants you back."

A home he wasn't apart of. Stealing out through a crack in the pathetic excuse for walls, Michael stole silently into the night, his dark pelt blending into the shadows as the red lights on his antennae slowly faded into blackness.

-//-

-//-

Five years Later

Five years a rouge. Five years alone, wandering the planet as little more as a zombie at times, living as primitive as possible for someone like him. But the time to himself was nowhere near as peaceful as he wanted it to be; some days, he found himself drawn towards the human colony. Other times, he felt as though whatever "soul" he had was being ripped from his chest. For four years he had resisted the urge to return; the fifth year? He had caved. Now he found himself walking slowly towards the colony, partially dreading the reaction he knew he would earn. He was close now, he discovered, as the smell of campfire smoke hit his nose. He had been just about to begin climbing the last hill when he was attacked.

From his right, with blade outstretched and ready to kill, a human leapt from the bushes. The birds spooked as leaves furiously rustled with her departure. Out of reaction, Michael dodged the blade and went for her arm, teeth bared viciously, but he never finished his bite. Lighted blue eyes met crystal blue irises, and time seemed to stand still. Releasing his grip before his teeth broke past her fur and leather bracers, he found himself staring into Amethyst's eyes; The little girl he had been expecting to find had grown up, too.

WIP <3

#1:


Quick muse art done during class. It's going to be the worst piece of art you'll see from me because I hate Oekaki and it hates me.

#2: Animation at the top of this post.

WIP <3


+The first RAW was an experiment that was simply meant to improve an old pet's quality of life, though it ended up altering more than just the wolf's body.
+RAW have a much higher intelligence than any other creature in the animal kingdom; one result is their ability to speak the English language.
+The more metal alterations on a RAW, the less flexible the wolf becomes.
+RAW mainly feed on Molin and Rased, two native species of the planet that aren't dangerous.
+Any "custom" male can breed, as can a custom female, but non-customs are not able to be bred (unless it's a custom male & a non-custom female).

[Sen507]

Ah, I completely forgot about this. May I have a few days to finish up my application because I am almost done with it and would love to try for him.

[The Most Sincere]

"Once your hand is dealt, you have no choice but to play it."

:: Name - | || Tyrant ||

Named after the word meaning
1. A cruel and oppressive ruler.
2. A person exercising power or control in a cruel, unreasonable, or arbitrary way, Tyrant's name couldn't be more fitting. He has a lust for vengeance, and the excruciating ability to carry out a horrific plan of action, no matter how devilish it may seem.


:: Gender - | || Male ||

First of all, let me congratulate you on your educated guess to the gender male. Although it is hinted in his masculine frame, deep, bane voice and void-like personality, some people seem to have a problem deciding on this.


:: Age - |

At only two and a half years, Tyrant is a juvenile.


Tyrant is a malicious, evil, naive killing machine. He lacks all empathy necessary for normal survival, but considering that he is a machine, who can blame him? Those who know him find him abundantly is malevolent, but he lacks one trait; one that would make him worse than all of the rest. Narcissism. Yes, as gorgeous as he appears to be, Tyrant has no feeling of beauty or grace. This, actually, is why he wears his mask. To cover himself to the world... And to himself. No one has seen this off-course, irrelevant side of him before, and no one ever will. Other than that, he is ruthless. Killing has never bothered him; not even when he witnesses it happening to someone close to him. Actually, death doesn't bother him at all. It could be the fact that he's an experiment, or it could be the fact that he refuses to let it get to him. Tyrant is also brutally tactful; a strategist hidden in a RAW's body. He can carry through all of his brilliant plans, despite all efforts to stop him.

Summing it up, Tyrant is a ruthless killer... And some may ask why. But alas, my friends, some thing are better to remain a mystery.


:: Experiment - |
Tyrant's number is 39


Log Entry #1

-Experiment number 39 sits quarantined in a large yellow container. He isn't lively, nor is he enthusiastic about anything. And I, Dr. Becker, now fear for him. Taken away when a mere puppy, living in a box with only the necessary items... And he seems to understand what is going on around him. He can see the bionic wolves; comprehending that they aren't the same. I can see the fur on his hackles rise, sending shivers from his spine to his face. Oh- his face. His ugly, ugly face. It's scarred to the point of no return. Hideous pink and white flesh claw angrily toward his eyes. And I can tell that he knows that he's ugly. There is no denying that, considering that when a new scientist or wolf comes in, he hides his face. To shield them from the vast horror that we call Number 39.

Log Entry #2

-Today is the day that Experiment Number 39 undergoes the transformation. Today is the day that I can watch him leave; to be free, I hope that he can get along with the others. I hope that he will be cunning and fast. I hope that he'll make it through alright... But now I can only sit and wait. The scientists are now replacing his old body with a new one. Everything, as it seems. The majority of his face, his legs, his flank... There are even wires coming from his heart!

-They are now finished. And as I go and look at the new 39, I notice something. His face is the same. The one thing that could have helped, was not touched. So, feeling sorry for him and myself, I walk into my office. Head hanging down, something catches my eye. A gas mask. It was from an old experiment that, unfortunately, was not able to make it through the transformation. But this would be perfect for 39. So I pick it up and race to the dog, where I urged scientists to put it on him. So, very carefully, they tied on the mask. He looked absolutely terrifying. And now, all was complete. I could watch our masterpiece leave. Forever.


My paws skidded over the ravine, leaving small indents on the rock-hard earth. I was running; I had been running for almost 3 nights. But that's a plus with the bionic body- I don't tire. Ever. But suddenly I've begun to rethink my compliance to this. Should I have just stayed a wolf with his mother? Probably, in all retrospect. But I like who I am now. I'm a killer. And that's why they call me Tyrant. I unleash havoc on others of my kind, and others from a world entirely different. Another thing I love about my new life? This mask. I no longer have to shield my hideous face from the world.

WIP

[starry--knight]

Bump^^ where are ya Darry?