Tough as Nails Adoption (Closed for renovations!)

[Brisa]

DONATION!
Picture:
Name: (Not required)
Species: Unspecified canine
Link to lineart: http://lilgreentraveler.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d1on4x1
Any extra conditions?:nope ;D

[splashfoot]

Donation!!

Picture -
Name - Midnight
Species - Wolf
Link to lineart - http://www.chickensmoothie.com/Forum/viewtopic.php?t=157655
Any extra conditions? -
You can change the moon shape... half...full etc
You can change eye/nose color.
Other than that, no design changes except accesories.
Stays as wolf.
Must stay on CS
Can be used as fursona.

If unwanted, return to Splashfoot.

[calphina]

DONATION!
Picture:
Name: (Not required)
Species: Okapi
Link to lineart: viewtopic.php?t=195736
Any extra conditions?: If you adopt this one, it has to stay on CS, it can not be posted anywhere else, all Tough as nails rules apply as well. You can change the coloring around a bit but please keep it an Okapi

[Rainbow Dash]

Donations are up! Good luck to everyone applying!

[Xanre]

Huge WIP, lul.

I would like to adopt!
Number: 3

Name: Kiewjo
Species: Himalayan Wolf
Personality:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Background:
A picture you drew:

[mokapi]

Other info: To whoever judges this: Although I know I can't demand it, I would prefer that my entry for #5 be read AFTER my entry for #4, but that if I am seriously considered for BOTH characters, that Bokka's story be considered as an addition to Kyrgo's. What happens during Bokka's background is what happens before/in the middle of Kyrgo's, but all of the information needed (what Caballus'/Therons/Reynards/Fulmins are, etc.) is in Krygo's. These two characters, if I win them both, will always be together.

I would like to adopt!
Number: #4.

Name: Kyrgo Dyamentes.
Pronunciation: Keer-go Die-ah-mint-tays.
Species: Elemental; Reynard tribe. Fulmin.
Information on Elementals:
The Reynards: Fox-people to the West. All can manipulate or create fire from a young age, though there are a rare few known as the Fulmins that can also wield lightning and other forms of electricity. Ritualistic tattoos are given to a Fulmin when he or she completes the necessary training. They are typically peaceful and are more on the defensive side than the offensive. Their traditions are deeply-rooted and are very orthodox: females, for instance, rarely hold warrior or leadership positions and it is preferred that they stay home to raise the young, but they are not shoved aside- they are more so treasured. The Reynards are the smallest of the Elementals, with individuals ranging from about 5'7"to 5'11" and weighing anywhere from 120 to 150 pounds. Reynards vary in color, but it is always a natural fox pelt: red, gray, or, rarely arctic. They maintain a friendly alliance with the Callabus'.
The Therons: Tiger-warriors to the South. All are earth Elementals, and can create and manipulate earth-related things- they have been seen creating flora, and during battles will often cause earthquakes or rifts in the earth. They are led by a female named Shiva, and are known for their merciless battle tactics. They control the largest area of land. Therons are typically very large- females are often 6 feet or above- and can weigh several hundred pounds. White pelts are considered unlucky by Shiva and therefore any white-pelted cubs are killed at birth, although Shiva herself has a rare coat color known as "golden tabby" or "strawberry".
The Delphins: Dolphin-folk; as the Elementals are on an island, they have control over the waters that surround it. Not much is known about them as they do not often come ashore (although they can). They can control water in all of its forms, and while the most peaceful, are also the most deadly. It is rumored that the Delphins have a pact with the Fifths.
The Callabus': Horse-kin to the North. They can manipulate air; some of their stronger mages have the ability to deplete the atmosphere of oxygen, though this is rare and takes a great deal of energy. Typical manifestations of their power include strong gusts of wind and tornadoes. The Callabus' are typically very large, cob-type horses, and are well over 6 ft. in height- some have reached 7 ft.- and only have solid coat patterns, with chestnut, bay, and black being the most common.
The Fifth Elementals: These creatures reside in the East, and very little is known about them. Their location is said to be known only to the Delphins, and to many Elementals they are a legend. It is said that they possess very dark, rare magic, and can control your very thoughts- though whether or not this is true remains to be seen.

Personality: More serious than playful, Kyrgo is a diligent and mostly altruistic fox that believes in the greater good and has never had qualms with sacrificing his own time and energy to better himself for his tribe. He has very traditional and somewhat close-minded views, and prefers to stick to the old ways rather than stray from the beaten path. He is extremely respectful of his superiors and is consistently kind to those around him, so even though he prefers to not keep much company, he is well-liked and respected throughout the community as a whole. He is extremely dedicated to his position in the tribe and though he would fear it, he would not hesitate to give his life for the rest of the Reynards. Generally he is quite happy, albeit realistically pessimistic, and has a broad sense of humor (though a quiet chuckle is more up his alley than a full-on laugh). He tends to stray far from groups unless his presence is requested, but a great deal of his time is spent with his mother, whom he prefers to keep close after his father's death. Relationship-wise, Kyrgo is not so much inept as he is uncaring- he treats women very well, but understood from the time he was young that the chances of him finding a mate were slim at best: A Fulmin's job is basically to devote, and possibly give, their life for their tribe, and not many females would be willing to take the risk necessary to court or marry a Fulmin.
Overall, he is extremely determined and once he is resolute about a plan or action, it is difficult to convince him to think or act differently. Kyrgo is very straightforward and tenacious in both his speech and mannerisms, and it is rare that someone would not understand something that he is trying to convey- despite the fact that he is highly intelligent (a key trait of a Fulmin), he has a very simple way of speaking. While the Reynards as a whole are exceptionally proud of their traditions, heritage, and powers, Kyrgo doesn't see the issue in asking for help if a situation were to arise where it was needed, even from an outsider. He is also more empathetic than you would expect, and "reads" others without much difficulty, another trait that aided him in his training.
Likes:
Traditions: He is a bit of an ethnocentrist and while he understands the need for a balance and existence of the fellow tribes, he strongly believes that Reynard's culture is far more sophisticated despite the outward view that they are more primitive, which partially comes about because of the branding techniques used on Fulmins. They are unique to each individual but are still burned into the fur once a Fulmin has completed his or her training; the more esteemed the Fulmin, like Kyrgo, the more elaborate the design is. A great deal of the time as well marriage pairs are assigned through parents, although due the hazardous jobs assigned to electric Reynards, they are more often avoided as possible mates. Females are still allowed the final decision, but expected pairs will be raised closer together and parents will encourage frequent visits. Kyrgo firmly believes all such traditions should be kept.

His waif, Gaerbok: Waifs are small, feral creatures similar to the cats of our world, but with some differences. They have very large, wideset eyes that are often unusual colors, and usually have short or bobbed tails. They are not able to be bred in captivity, but oftentimes a waif will follow a young Reynard home in hopes of food and the pair will bond. When waifs do become attach to an Elemental- they are not limited to the Reynard territory- they become very loyal and have no qualms with following their owner around. Waifs have excellent immune systems and can go days without food or water, and for this reason they usually live unnaturally long lives. The oldest living waif recorded was sixty-six years old, although late forties or early fifties are the norm. They are thought to be very intelligent, and have strong homing instincts- a lost waif rarely fails to find his owner. Waifs are also omnivorous, and enjoy fruit just as much as they enjoy meat. Kyrgo's waif, Gaerbok- Bok or Bokka for short- is medium-sized and looks similar to the average orange tabby, except there are spots hidden among his stripes and his eyes are a brilliant emerald. To show ownership, Kyrgo pierced Bokka's ear with a handcrafted earring.

His job: Strings attached aside, Kyrgo truly does enjoy what he does. His wild sense of adventure and his inclination for swiftly committing information to memory made him the perfect candidate. He takes his position extremely seriously and refuses to let anything come between him and his duties- because of this, however, his relationships with others are mostly strict and one-sided to another Reynard. His is consistently cordial, but is afraid to let his emotions run him and therefore his closest bonds are with his remaining family (his mother), his childhood best friend (Lale), his trainer, and his waif.

Thunderstorms: Although a Fulmin cannot create a thunderstorm, they can manipulate the electricity and storms do lend them a great deal of power; they are able to focus their energy more directly against an opponent or object if natural sources of electricity are already present.

Dislikes:
Therons: Therons are the earth Elementals; they are ruthless tigers and a raid several years ago cost Kyrgo his father. They are rumored to be the most advanced, and they certainly hold a vast majority of the land in their grasp. Their queen, Shiva, is surrounded in mystery and, of course, menacing rumors- she supposedly mated with one of her generals, but the cubs were unwanted and were thus killed. They are polygamous, which is the direct opposite of the courting habits of Reynards, and a common jest throughout the fire tribe is that the Therons have such wicked tempers because they are all inbred. Kyrgo has come across Shiva once before and their meeting did not end well: Shiva was there diplomatic reasons, but the Fulmin had caught her attempting to smuggle an infant Reynard out of the camp, and the two had fought, bringing attention to the rest of the tribe and permanently scarring the Theron's reputation among the Callabus' and the Delphins.

Background:

"How long have you been skulking around my camp?" Her hands were at my throat now; I could feel my skin cave beneath her claws. Her green eyes- common among Therons- searched mine, and I stared back. I believe she expected my gaze to buckle, but I felt no power emanate from this beast. Only a cold desperation.
"Oh, Shiva," I spoke the words calmly, a wry smile tugging at the edges of my mouth. Leaning forward, I dropped my voice to a whisper: "Wouldn't you like to know?"
The front of her hand hit hard across my cheek and as I recoiled with a growl I tasted the metallic tang of blood. I glared and wiped my mouth, spitting out a thin string of faintly scarlet saliva.
"Get him out of my sight." Fear flicked through me- Therons were not known for being merciful to their prisoners. A pair of guards approached me, cruel smirks crooking their striped faces and ropes between their hands. Shiva watched coldly, waves of disgust permeating from her body, dripping from her pores. A fist to the back of my head forced my head down and I stood helpless but seething as they bound my wrists behind my back. "Move it, Reynard," one of them grunted, and they pulled me along beside them.

---

I don't know how long I've been in the darkness of this godforsaken oubliette. Time has melted away into subtle variances in the slivers of light that manage to stream in through cracks between the wooden shafts above me. If my internal calendar is holding up, then it has roughly been a month. Every other day or so a bucket is lowered down to me, and some food. Nothing nutritious that would risk lending me strength, of course- to my great disappointment, they are not as stupid as I would have hoped- and the water inside the bucket is often hot, and smells of urine. Some days I force myself to stomach the filthy water. Most days I cannot. I am surprised they have not killed me, whether by force or by poison, but this only makes me realize that they believe I pose no threat. In the back of my mind, I am afraid that they only feel this way because I no longer have a home to deliver information to. I push it farther back, ignore it, rebuke it.

My kind- the Reynards- are the foxes of the West. By nature, we are smaller- but what we lack in size, we make up for in sheer ability. My people can wield fire without difficulty. We can create it, we can control it, we can shape it, and we can stop it. There are a select few of us, however- a very, very select few- that were born with superior skills: the Fulmins. Yes, we can manage fire, but with training we can also produce electricity. Our affinity for lightning makes us powerful adversaries. It's quite marvelous, really. There are rarely more than a handful of us in existence at any given time, mainly because it is little more than a fluke. A Fulmin will not automatically produce electric offspring, and in all truth it is rare for one of us to live past our fourth or fifth year.

Training begins at the end of a Fulmin's first year and continues until the end of their third (a normal Reynard requires little more than practical training as a kit to learn his or her strength and abilities, as they manifest at around three months of age), and from that point we are assigned any manner of rather precarious duties for our tribe. More often than not it includes a role as a defensive officer, but for myself, it entailed so much more: I was hand-selected to become a spy. It's quite simple, really; my training included the usual: hand-to-hand combat, long-range use, generalized lessons in strategics- but also much more. I was drilled over the history and usual tactics of other Elementals, as well as subjects like constellation bearings and general concealment strategies and logistics. The courses were rigorous, but there has not been a Fulmin yet to have dropped out. We are of a different breed. Our stamina, strength, and mental capacity are of the highest caliber, and we are the Reynard's pride.

That being said, you may be able to imagine the sickening clip of surprise when my planned exit from the Theron territory was effectively terminated. In all honesty, the operation itself went over rather well- I had secured the information I had been sent to get- namely future attack plans- and had also come to realize a possible alliance between the earth and water tribes. With these things in mind, I had waited until past the midnight hour to exit. They must have suspected something, however, for a guard was posted high up in a tree, and I failed to hear his descent- and I especially failed to register that he was in the branches above until he had literally dropped on top of me. He had something in his hand, and it was that object that he used to strike the top of my head...I don't remember much more than that, apart from waking up gagged and blindfolded in what I believed to be the village's center. I had twisted my head around wildly, jabbing my tongue at the rough cloth in an attempt to displace it, but it was no use. I was forced to wait until Shiva desired to speak to me to gather a full realization of what was going on.

---

The sky was steeped in blackness when I heard the distant hoofbeats and the nigh yells. My ears pricked forward and I blinked groggily awake, pressing up against the heavy beams that held me inside. The world outside had become a tumultuous maelstrom; lights flickered back and forth and screams scathed the air. Smoke filled all of my senses- I could hardly hear through its thickness- and I backed away from the wooden egress quickly, closing my eyes tightly and reaching behind me to feel for the wall. I sank to the floor, heart catching in my throat with the thought of my impending doom- and at the exact moment when I realized I was going to die, a heavy body crashed through the ceiling. The stallion screamed harshly and rolled to his sides, hooves striking out and sending bits of board and debris flying. I lunged forward, but with another great buck his head crashed into mine and I was sent backwards again.
When I slammed into the stone-lined wall, a wave a nausea spread like liquid through my veins and I moaned, hunching over and hitting the ground on my knees, curses bubbling out from my lips. With quivering vision I lurched almost unsuccessfully to my feet but managed to stumble forward as the black stallion fairly leapt out of my cell; an unnaturally powerful blast of air roared around me and I realized what was happening at last: the Caballus' were attacking the Therons, presumably in full-force. With adrenaline pumping through my now-gaunt body, I raised my hand up to my face- I could barely see through the endless smoke- and snapped my fingers. Nothing. I needed water. I needed food. I was weak, weak enough that I couldn't conjure that which came naturally to my skilled hands but not so weak that I couldn't free myself. I braced my hands on the broken beams and heaved upwards, gasping at the air.

It was utter mayhem. The ground was ruptured and broken and more than once in my desperation to flee I stumbled. The last time, I felt the sickening cleft of something in my foot and bit back a scream as a white-hot pain blanketed me. From out of nowhere, a Theron stumbled and fell beside me, her ugly green eyes glassy and blood pouring from her nose and mouth, though she was not dead. We lay there staring at each other for a moment- an instant later she recognized me, and a guttural growl erupted from her throat, revealing stained fangs. Not half a roar was spoken before I had pulled myself on top of her and, with a swift and sadly painless stroke, had grasped her neck and wrenched it sideways, effectively snapping it. The crunch hummed in my ears for a moment and I mentally savored it. These beasts deserved no one's pity, especially not mine. Dropping the tigress, I half-ran, half-hobbled towards the one thing about this demonic territory I had come to understand: the endless pool of night. More than once my path was abruptly impeded and I would have to find my way around a body: size-wise, both Caballus' and Therons towered over me, even in death. We had no qualms with the Caballus, but even when my emotions ruled to tend to those whose lungs were swelling with their last, I had to continue. I could only hope that their souls found rest.

The air was alive with near-constant fluctuations in atmospheric pressure and twice I could have sworn there was briefly no oxygen at all. Gales, not unlike the first I had felt in the dungeon, tugged at my ruddy fur with such ferocity that I would be forced to all fours just to keep from flying backwards. There was no silence anymore; between the thundering cleaving of the earth and the clamor of the tempests and cyclones (not to mention the curses and yells that echoed around me), I started to wonder if I would ever hear anything else ever again.

I remained low to the ground in an awkward, shuffling run, one hand up to my face to shield my eyes from the shower of loam and sand, and I believe that at one point I traveled in a wide circle. It all felt so helplessly futile, and with each stride I could feel what strength I had dwindling. I was forced to be constantly on the lookout; my fear of being sighted was enough to have me slinking around corners and I had to fight back bouts of intense paranoia every time I manage to discern footsteps about the din of the battle. Nothing was safe- I would pass by a bit of unmarred land, quiet surprise building on my face, and a moment later there would be a thunderous growl and a great rifting. Breathing became a difficult task; each inhalation burned through me and the exhalations tasted like a bitter grime.

I was convinced that I had begun to reach the edge of the territory- there were far fewer Therons and the ground was clean- when what seemed to be one final patrol moved swiftly towards me, their ugly faces drawn and their fur stained with blood. Stifling a gasp I dropped to a crouch, then to my stomach, and pulled myself quietly beneath a stone overhang, staring out at them and fiercely willing them away. To my despair, however, the troops halted; one that was slightly larger and obviously the ringleader pointed in my direction. The group formed a circle around my clandestine location and I quickly tucked my head to my chest, avoiding letting any light bounce off my eyes. They stood a few lengths in front of me, waving and chattering gruffly, before moving on. Not one of them looked back- it seemed that one escaped prisoner, even a Reynard, wasn't worth their time, though in hindsight I have to wonder if it was because I was a Reynard.

---

I don't know how long I ran, my injured ankle shrieking for relief with every hard-struck step; all I am sure of is that I did not stop or slow until the battle-torn land of the Therons was out of my sight- and even then, my pace only became more determined. Yet as I moved westward, a cold thought worked its way to the front of my brain: it was far, far too quiet.

---

The familiar smell of ash struck me before the scent of cruel death did. My heart slammed against my chest with the weight of adrenaline, almost racing faster than my thoughts. Since my escape- at least two days prior- I had clung to shreds of hope that swore that my tribe would not have been subdued, but now, as I ran past trees whose trunks were little more than blackened smithereens, I felt that hope sinking. Images of my little Bokka flashed in my mind's eye and I winced; how alone he must feel, how frightened and helpless. Waifs were not meant to endure hardships among Elementals, and though I had no want for offspring, he was the closest thing to a child I could imagine.

Rings of smoke still curled at the tops of the trees as I approached, though the sun skewered them without hesitation. With every step that brought me closer to my camp, my fear escalated- but when the sight finally hit me, it was like I'd been clubbed.

I stood dumbstruck at the entrance to the camp and simply stared, disbelief silencing every cry that tugged at my tongue. Bloated bodies, both Reynard and Theron, lay scattered in every direction, the first mostly bloody, the later charred. The rank scent of death smothered me and I felt a immobilizing sensation to simply run, to get away from the wreckage, the devastation, that had previously been my proud tribe. Instantly I looked around, searching for those few that held places in my heart, and it did not take me long to find them. My walk was slow and shuffling, and I did not want to approach any farther once I saw her face, saw her glassy eyes and parted jaws and the rivulets of blood that had seeped deep into the ivory fur around her mouth. Tears brimming in my eyes, I extended a shaking hand to gingerly brush the broken body of my poor mother before a wave of anger swelled in my breast. I had made an escape for nothing. My home had been reduced to embers and smirking chasms; my friends and family to bloody corpses.


With a sob that wracked my emaciated frame I fell to my knees in the center of the destruction, my head in my hands. I couldn't bear it, this pitiless massacre. It was a landscape of annihilation. I was lost. The Reynards were lost, torn to pieces by land-hungry barbarians. They had taken everything from me: my friends, my family, my home...everything. But as I kneeled there, I realized that there was only one thing to be done.

I would, of course, have to get revenge.

A picture you drew:
(drew with the help of a tutorial by Rhythm-runner @ deviantart.com)

Random "Trivia"/Behind the Names:
-A male fox is called a reynard.
-The study of lightning is called fulminology.
-The modern horse's trinomial name is Equus ferus caballus.
-The tiger's scientific name, Panthera tigris, is partially derived from the Greek word theron, which means 'beast'.
-Dolphins belong to the family Delphinidae.
-The dictionary definition of a waif is "a homeless or helpless person, [especially] a neglected or abandoned child. Waifs do not make good mothers and will often abandon their kits.
-The character Shiva is the direct opposite of her name; Shiva is a Hindu god said to be the "destroyer of evil and sorrow".
-Although it isn't necessary in this story, the Reynard leader's name is Reohlic.
-The Fifth Elementals, known simply as "the Fifths" in Elemental lore, actually call themselves the Aureusi- a hint for their actual species. The Fifths play an extremely important role down the line of the story.
-To write Kyrgo's background, I wrote the first three chapters of what will eventually become something like a novella (book? Longshot much?), and then chose excerpts from those. Kyrgo is, of course, the main charater, with Bokka and Lale eventually coming into play and the Aureusi becoming a momentous part roughly a third of the way in.




I would like to adopt!
Number: #5.

Name: Gaerbok. Bok or Bokka (namely Bokka) for short.
Species: Waif. (I do have permission from Spotty to change his species, which was originally domestic cat)
Information on Waifs:
Larger than your normal house cat, the adult waif ranges from about nine to thirteen pounds and typically stands at roughly twelve to fifteen inches tall at the shoulders. Waifs are typically short-haired and striped, spotted, or self patterns are the most common; fur color is always natural but a waif's eyes may be any solid color, with reds and pinks being the rarest and blues being the most usual. Their eyes are large and they rarely blink, leading to the common expression "waifing" in regards to someone who is openly staring. Genetic mutations, though, uncommon, are certainly not unseen and often lead to an exceptionally long or conversely bobbed tail or extra toes.

Waifs are omnivorous creatures, and while they most often feed on pine squirrels or banded mice it is not unusual to see a waif scale a tree in order to get ahold of its fruit or nuts, and some waifs seem to actually prefer these to meat.

There are few known health problems associated with the waif and apart from arthritis brought on by old age they will rarely become ill; waifs who live in harsher climates can go without food or water for over a week within circumstantial damage being done. A waif on average will live for forty to fifty years in the wild and slightly longer in captivity.

That being said, they cannot be bred in captivity- it seems as if both genders refuse the process if not in the wild- and an adult waif will rarely become tame. When waifs do breed, it is a short gestation- roughly two months- and the kittens are born fully furred and almost ready to walk. Waifs do not make good parents, however, and will often leave or forget about their kits after the first week or so. For these reasons, pet waifs are usually procured by luck- if an Elemental finds a young waif and offers him food, the waif will then follow the Elemental home and a bond is made soon after. Once this bond is made, a waif will typically stick with his Elemental for life. One of the strangest things about the waif is that it has a "homing" instinct, and it is essentially unheard of for a waif to lose his way or become distanced from his Elemental unless by force or command. Waifs are also extremely intelligent, far beyond that of your normal animal, and can eventually learn to understand the language of the Elementals.

Personality:
Much like his Elemental, Gaerbok is good-tempered and laid-back, although anxiety is not out of his range of emotions and if he feels concerned about a situation, those around him will hear about it. He has an extremely loud distress call, and although this would be used in the wild to warn other waifs it is useful for arousing suspicion in the Reynards around him as well. Exceptionally loyal and obedient, Gaerbok is only ever found away from Kyrgo's side if he has been commanded to do so by Kyrgo and only Kyrgo, for while he is loyal, he is extremely untrusting and those that he has not been with for several years will not be given the graces of his attention. It would not be a mistruth to say that Gaerbok is fastidious about the company he keeps, though this finicky behavior collapses if presented with food.
Like many waifs, he has the ability to determine motives and read hearts, and if someone with whom he does not feel safe with attempts to pick him up or lead him off he becomes rather vicious and isn't afraid to give a particularly unfriendly warning; more than once he has changed Kyrgo's mind on possible friendships because of this behavior and several years ago when the Theron queen attempted to abduct a young Reynard it was Gaerbok who raised the alarm.
Since Kyrgo's assignment, however, he has become increasingly difficult to approach and spends more time sleeping or pacing along the tribe's borders than he has anything else. Seemingly to feel closer to Kyrgo, he spends a great deal of time with his Elemental's mother or best friend, Lale.
Likes:
Baluka fruit: The Baluka tree bears fruit similar to the pear, except the fruit is a deep purple and the seeds are in the form of a pit. The tree itself has extremely long branches with sparse leaves and the bark in general is fairly knobby- Bokka can frequently be found lounging in the higher branches, where he can both be exposed to the sunshine and stil be above ground. One of these trees grows beside Kyrgo's hut, and it is probably because he enjoyed a lot of this fruit as a kitten that he still regulates his diet around it now.

Lale: In Kyrgo's absence, Bokka has taken a direct liking to his Elemental's best friend. While he enjoys the calm atmosphere of Kyrgo's mother's hut, she is far too noisy and fussy for his tastes and too often invites children into her home, something Bokka dislikes greatly.
Dislikes:
Young Reynards: Although he tolerates them, more than once he has been grabbed and petted by a Reynard toddler only to have his whiskers or fur singed by their still-unmanaged skills. Even though the tolerance is present, he has become somewhat unruly since Kyrgo left and recently he left quite the scar on a young Reynard who unknowingly caught his tail on fire. Bokka simply doesn't have the patience.

Fire: Although he is accustomed to it, a few days after Gaerbok and Kyrgo first met (both young), Kyrgo was showing his father something new he had learned to do and accidentally sent a stream of unmanaged flames after his dear pet. Bokka has never quite gotten over the incident, and he prefers to stay well away from areas where young Reynards are practicing.

Background:

A gray and red Reynard stood over him, his face a mask of pure fear. "Come on, Bokka," he whispered urgently. "We have to go!" The waif pinned his ears, pupils expanding in the shadows of the hut as he crouched in a far corner.

---

Bokka was cradled roughly between the gray Reynard's arm and chest, white paws stuck in the air and ears moving so rapidly that an onlooker may have thought he was in the middle of a seizure. Screams tore through the air in every direction, and the golden waif simply stared, overwrought with the sudden turmoil that had befell the camp. A low growl had formed in the bottom of his stomach, increasing in volume with each jarring step- and then all of a sudden he was tumbling nose over tail with his face in the cool dirt. A brutal yell burst from above him and he flexed into a ball as one of Lale's clawed feet landed on one side of him. Glancing up, he watched- a screeching yowl on his lips- as a huge, striped beast advanced swiftly towards the Reynard; Lale reacted equally as swiftly and in the blink of an eye the Theron was little more than a bellowing ball of fire. The eerie light cast long shadows and it was then that Gaerbok suddenly realized what was going on, though his knowledge of the situation at hand was limited- Kyrgo had gone to great lengths to make sure his beloved pet would never feel true distress or misery.

Lale's thin face was pulled back into a dangerous snarl and with a deft movement he whipped his hands apart and forward, streams of flames bursting forth to engulf a second approaching Theron- the first had since fallen, his hands scrabbling at his throat in an effort to breath through smoke-filled lungs. The waif simply stared, green eyes wide and utterly panicked, and watched the dark Reynard's actions with a mix of confusion and awe.

I didn't understand what was happening, apart from a sensory overload that made me feel sick to my stomach. The air was alive with electricity and it made me miss Kyrgo desperately, but the thought was lost as the temperature in the village began a deadly ascent. Behind us, the trees were alive with flames that licked the tips of my trees. I whipped my head forward and scrambled to my feet, my eyes focusing on Kyrgo's hut and my beloved baluka tree...the fires had already consumed the leaves and even though it was dark, there was enough light that it wouldn't have been a stretch to assume daylight was coming- I could see the trunk darkening, bits of the rough bark peeling away into crisps that fluttered to the ground. I didn't...I didn't grasp what was going on, only that the huge striped cats were bad and that Lale was afraid. I could smell it on him, his fear, and it wafted towards me in relentless waves that only made me more terrified.

---

We were running, driven by our nerves, when something caught Lale's attention- he stopped so quickly I ran into the back of his leg and almost fell backwards. He leaned down towards me and put a finger to his lips before walking slowly forward, apprehension in his gait.

---

They were huddled in a small group, the little ones whimpering and rubbing their noses and eyes and the taller females cooing gently to them. They gazed uneasily at Lale and me and as I glanced up, he strode towards them. I hung in the back, unsure of whether to approach but not looking forward to the greetings the young foxes would likely attempt to give me once they realized whose waif I was. Kyrgo was well-known to these females and their kits and I heard them say his name in a sad way more than once.

"What should we do?" She was tall for a female, almost taller than Lale, and her hand was rested on her son's small back. He was her spitting image, and he gazed up at his mother with wide yellow eyes, his thumb in his mouth.
"Reohlic would have told us to go to Lord Percival," Lale spoke grimly, casting his eyes around the group again. "So that's where we need to go. Is there anyone else?"
The female shook her head sadly. "I gathered who I could and we fled." There was a silence for several long moments, broken only by the ragged inhalations of the others and screams in the distance. Everyone's heads turned at the same time, and Lale took advantage of the moment's distraction to put his hand on the female's shoulder, drawing her attention. With a face of complete seriousness, he dropped his voice to a whisper.
"Can they all make it?"
"If we go slow, I don't see why not. Is it far?"
Lale stared to the North, his brow furrowing as he remembered the route. He had only been there twice before in his life, but the Caballus' had wide patrols and he figured that once that breached the horses' borders they would be found and taken to Lord Percival, the unofficial "king". "It's not too far. Closer than it seems. If we start now and keep moving, we may be able to make it by late morning..." his sentence trailed off, but the female knew the rest: if the Therons don't find us.

---

The hall was long, and Lale felt particularly out of place, though Bokka stood proudly beside him, thick tail swinging slowly to and fro and his eyes unblinking as they took in the huge creatures that walked past them with nods. Despite the large presence of their "king", the atmosphere was one that was casually courteous. Although he was uncomfortable with the situation- and Gaerbok mimicked this- he maintained a straight-backed posture and waited for Percival's response.

"You say that the Therons attacked you in the night?" Percival was a large bay stallion with a sonorously baritone voice.
"Yes, sir."
"How many were there?"
"I...I'm not sure, sir. Too many to count. We are a small tribe, Lord Percival."
"I know, young Reynard."
"Our Fulmins couldn't hold them."
"Your women and children?"
"All that survived are here."
"Any males beside yourself? Anyone else?"
"No, sir. Just Gaerbok-" here, he motioned to the waif beside him, "-and myself. But we believe they are holding one of our Fulmins prisoner. He was sent there on a reconnaissance mission almost two months ago and hasn't returned yet."
"Presumed dead?"
Lale's face hardened and he shook his head vehemently; Bokka stared at the horse-king and gave a low, steady growl. "Kyrgo went through rigorous training in order for him to survive an ordeal similar to this. We've held out hope for him."
Lord Percival nodded smartly. "Rest assured that if we find your Fulmin, we will return him to you."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"My troops will be gathered and readied by tomorrow evening. Though we do not wage war quickly, Reohlic and myself have been good friends, as our fathers before us. The Therons have left me with no choice. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. You, your young, and your womenfolk may stay here until you can decide on more permanent accommodations. Do not feel rushed; we have more than enough room and you are welcome in my lands." Motioning with a dark hand, a small, seemingly stunted black horse moved quickly towards them, dipping his head respectfully as he approached.
"My lord?"
"Mors, give these Reynards food and drink and prepare a place for them to rest." Mors smiled kindly at Lale, and then Bokka, before speaking. "Are the rest of you...?"
"Outside," Lale said simply, and followed behind Mors who, though small, still stood far taller than himself.
From behind him, Lord Percival spoke: "One more thing, young Reynard."
Lale turned back expectantly, a questioning look on his face. "I am sorry for your losses."
"Thank you, sir," was all he said with a watery smile before following Mors out.

---

I watched their exchange without doing much moving or speaking, though I focused more now than I believe I ever have before. I could almost understand Lale's speech, but not all of it, and only after years of being by Kyrgo's side through everything. He and I had our own way of communicating that Lale couldn't understand. I wasn't entirely sure of where we were going, but the Reynards around me seemed to be following the large dark fellow and I had little choice but to follow. I wanted to go home, I wanted to climb up in my beloved baluka tree and wait for Kyrgo to come back. So much had gone wrong in so little time. I just wanted Kyrgo. I wanted my warm bed in the corner of the hut. None of this made sense, and then it hit me: would anything ever make sense ever again?

A picture you drew:

Other info: To whoever judges this: Although I know I can't demand it, I would prefer that my entry for #5 be read AFTER my entry for #4. What happens during Bokka's background is what happens before/in the middle of Kyrgo's, but all of the information needed (what Caballus'/Therons/Reynards/Fulmins are, etc.) is in the form above this one. These two characters, if I win them both, will always be together.

[yearofdragon]

I would like to adopt!
Number: #4.

Name: Vijiko
nicknames: Viji,Veggie,ViVi(prepare to die), and Kori
Species: Elemental Fox
Personality: Vijiko is usually calm but once he snaps, theres no controlling him.
Likes: The rain, a big group,fried twinkies,lightning
Dislikes:
Background:
A picture you drew: OPTIONAL! This will only get you extra credit. You still have to write the rest of the form. COLORED IN LINEART IS NOT ACCEPTABLE. IT HAS TO BE ART YOU DREW FROM SCRATCH.

[azalea]

Wow, lots of competition for this one... ^^;;

Work In Progress :3

I would like to adopt!
Number: 3 ^^
Picture:
Name: Akatsuki 暁 (Meaning: Dawn) *no intended reference to Naruto, btw. Akatsuki is a real name in Japan. As in people name their kids Akatsuki, okay? > . <*
Species: Wolf/Dog, somewhere along the lines of a Malinois with unnatural markings. Basically an unknown heritage.
Personality: He was raised in one of the fancier districts of London, his master being a duke and all. Thus, at first he's not the kind of dog that gets down and dirty. He enjoys fineries: silk, down, etc. He doesn't understand true pain and fear. Not because he's shallow, but because has so little experience of dirt and grime, sweat and blood, pain and death.

But, when Akatsuki gets thrown into the streets, he soon realizes that he was truely born to be a street dog. A natural talent for sparring and a born strategist. Excellent qualities to put to use, especially in the midst of a gang war.

He's protective of others, and strives to become strong enough to be able to protect his loved ones.

Likes: Proper Manners. It's a big thing with him in the beginning, but he loosens up later in his life. Strategy, careful, thorough planning. Being able to protect people.
Dislikes: Having to draw blood. Death. Abandonment.
Background: (Optional, but it gives you a better shot. 2500 words maximum, 100 words minimum. We value quality over quantity, you can have five pages and still say absolutely nothing.)
A picture you drew: OPTIONAL! This will only get you extra credit. You still have to write the rest of the form. COLORED IN LINEART IS NOT ACCEPTABLE. IT HAS TO BE ART YOU DREW FROM SCRATCH.

[Cirque]

I would LOVE to adopt!
Number: Five
Picture:
Name: Kitten
Species: Feral Cat Mix
Personality: Kitten is headstrong, independant, and a born leader, but he is also kindhearted and merciful. He can be very stern, but only occasionally, as he does not like being harsh. Although he mostly likes things to be ordered, when he's having fun he generally just goes with flow and lives with what comes.
Likes: Walking in the park, leading others if, in his opinion, he deserves to, he also enjoys watching the sky change colors at sunset from the blaze of 'hot' colors to the cooling colors of midnight.
Dislikes: Modern civilization, he prefers more rustic settlements, he dislikes heights, canines, birds, and fighting.
Background:
A picture you drew:
Editing...

[Araviir]

-nothing-