►Lost and Ɓroken◄►Accepting◄►Shapeshifter◄

[chromatic.]

(afternoon bump^^)

[r a i n d r o p s]

d a m i e n | m o n t g o m e r y

I don't know where you're going
But do you got room for one more troubled soul?
I don't know where I'm going
But I don't think I'm coming home and I said
I'll check in tomorrow if I don't wake up dead
This is the road to ruin
And we're starting at the end
Say yeah
Let's be alone together
We could stay young forever
Scream it from the top of your lungs, lungs, lungs
Say yeah
Let's be alone together
We could stay young forever
We'll stay young, young, young, young, young.
You cut me off, I lost my track
It's not my fault, I'm a maniac
It's not funny anymore, no it's not
'Cause I don't know where you're going
But do you got room for one more troubled soul?
I don't know where I'm going
But I don't think I'm coming home and I said
I'll check in tomorrow if I don't wake up dead
This is the road to ruin
And we're starting at the end
Say yeah
Let's be alone together
We could stay young forever
Scream it from the top of your lungs, lungs, lungs
Say yeah
Let's be alone together
We could stay young forever
We'll stay young, young, young, young, young.
My heart is like a stallion
They love it more when it's broke in
Do you wanna feel beautiful?
Do you wanna? Yeah!
I'm outside the door, invite me in
So we can go back and play pretend
I'm on deck, yeah, I'm up next
Tonight I'm high as a private jet.

n a m e;; Damien Montgomery
a g e;; 20
g e n d e r;; Male
o r i e n t a t i o n;; Straight
s p e c i e s;; Qilin
a l l e g i a n c e;; The Lost

h a i r;; Dark Brown
e y e s;; Blue
s k i n;; Caucasian, tan
h e i g h t;; 6' 3"
w e i g h t;; 204 lbs.
b u i l d;; Muscular, lithe

To begin, Damien Montgomery isn't a name that most individuals know.
Most of the time, he is boldly silent, and would prefer to stick to the sidelines
and think things over for himself. However, he is not by any means quiet. His
thoughts are very loud indeed, as he always seems to have an opinion on all
topics, he just tends not to voice them. In actuality, Damien isn't shy at all, or
antisocial, or awkward. He is precisely the opposite. Though it doesn't happen
a lot of the time, when he does speak, Damien is charming, fluent, and quite
bold. The fact that he tends to be a wall-flower contributes greatly to the
luminous aura of mystery that goes about him. Those who have never spoken
to or heard him speak often find themselves wondering more about this
uncommon stranger, even though they haven't spoken a word. Often times,
he avoids others because of this magnetic attraction that some seem to
have to him. Perhaps it's the striking blue of his eyes, of his tall built
frame, but something always seems endearing to new people. Damien is
very much aware of this, and often chooses to ignore that fact. However,
the charming boy is one that you would not wish to anger. When aggressive,
his relatively docile nature seems to fly out the window and is replaced
with something feral that often uses words rather than physicality to get
its point across. Needless to say, after a bout with an angry Damien you
could quite possibly find yourself with some newfound self-esteem issues.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

r o s a l i n a | l a r o u x

Hope the wound heals but it never does
That's cause you're at war with love
You're at war with love

These battle scars don't look like they're fading
Don't look like they're ever going away
They ain't never gonna change
These battle...

Never let a wound ruin me
But I feel like ruin's wooing me
Arrow holes, they never close from
Cupid on a shooting spree
Feeling stupid cause I know it ain't no you and me
But when you're trying to beat the odds up
Been trying to keep your nods up
And you know that you should know
And let her go
But the fear of the unknown
Hold another lover strong
Sends you back into the zone
With no Tom Hanks to bring you home
A lover not a fighter
On the front line with a poem
Trying to write yourself a rifle
Maybe sharpen up a stone
To fight the tanks and drones of you being alone

I wish I never looked, I wish I never touched
I wish that I could stop loving you so much
Cause I'm the only one that's trying
to keep us together
When all of the signs say that I should forget her
I wish you weren't the best, the best I ever had
I wish that the good outweighed the bad
Cause it'll never be over
until you tell me it's over

You shouldn't have but you said it
It shouldn't have happened but you let it
Now you're down on the ground screaming medic
The only thing that comes is the
post-traumatic stresses
Shields, body armors and vests
don't properly work
That's why you're in a locker full of hurt
The enemy within and all the
fires from your friends
The best medicine's to probably just let it win

n a m e;; Rosalina LaRoux (Rose)
a g e;; 19
g e n d e r;; Female
o r i e n t a t i o n;; Straight
s p e c i e s;; Thestral
a l l e g i a n c e;; The Broken

h a i r;; Dark Brown
e y e s;; Green
s k i n;; Caucasian, pale
h e i g h t;; 5' 7"
w e i g h t;; 150 lbs.
b u i l d;; Thin, fit

When you think of a bipolar personality, you would generally think of mood
swings from time to time that can tend to get a little extreme. Well, take
that, then multiply it times ten, and you'll come somewhere in the same
ballpark as Rosalina. One never really knows how she'll react. Sometimes
it's anger, others it's sadness, and by far the worst is when she falls silent,
because then you know you're in trouble. Despite the fact that she tends
to be quite threatening in her demeanor, and also happens to shift into a
rotting corpse, Rosalina can be caring toward the very few that get close
to her. Not many have this privilege, as Rose always seems to push others
away with her sharp tongue and lack of compassion toward others. While
she may not have the caring gene, but no means does that imply that she
isn't passionate. In fact, if one word had to be selected to describe her,
spitfire would be the most accurate adjective. When threatened, Rose
doesn't generally respond very well. She can be violent, crazed, and down
right scary. This most definitely contributes to her lack of friends and
social interaction. It is common for her to be overly critical, as well as cut
people off when she knows by her slight foresight that she's not going to
like what they have to say. However, this trait happens to come in handy
when fighting, as well as her flight. Despite her many negative traits, Rose
is quite blunt and, well, some find that endearing. The downside to this,
however, is that she is brutally honest, and though she has a filter she often
elects to ignore it. Basically, Rose is not someone whose bad side you want
to be on, otherwise you'd better learn to sleep with one eye open and watch
your back.

[Revelry]

(Accepted! Props for using Fall Out Boy lyrics :3 . Anyhow, just let me know when your second form is up ^_^)

[Ｒａｉｎ.]

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Nᴀᴍᴇ

Alex Mills

Aɢᴇ

18 Years old

Gᴇɴᴅᴇʀ

Male

Dᴀᴛᴇ Oғ Bɪʀᴛʜ

21st August

Sᴘᴇᴄɪᴇs (Aɴɪᴍᴀʟ Fᴏʀᴍ)

Leopard

Cʟᴀɴ

The Broken

Rᴀɴᴋ

Lead Hunter

Pᴇᴛ

A cat called Pepper

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Hɪsᴛᴏʀʏ

When he was younger, Alex suffered from a lot of sickness because he couldn't control his shape shifting. Whenever he shifted he would most likely become sick and weak. His mother had been deciding for years whether or not to leave their home in search for the Shattered Isle, but Alex's constant sickness sealed her choice to not leave home at that time. By the age of 15, Alex had learned to control his shape shifting ability and was no longer sick.
Alex and his mother left their home, leaving Alex's father and sister (who couldn't shapeshift) behind, and travelled to the Shattered Isle. They joined The Broken because they were the first clan they came across. It wasn't their first resort to join, as Alex and his mother were quite independent people, but they believed they couldn't survive the island alone.
Within a year of being with the Broken, Alex's mother went missing. No-one knows where she went or why she went, but many think she died while hunting, so, he will always keep an eye out for her, and call her name if he thinks she's near. Most of the clan think he's insane, but Alex just won't accept the fact that his mother is dead.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Aᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ

(Sᴏʀʀʏ, I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ғɪɴᴅ ᴀ ᴘɪᴄᴄɪᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ғɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ I ᴡᴀs ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ. I ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴏᴋᴀʏ?)

Alex is quite tall and slim with lightly tanned skin. He doesn't look like a bulky, muscular person. His muscles only show in his arms. He isn't too strong in his human form, a reason why he doesn't fight with force, but with tactics and intelligence.
Alex has short, dusty blonde hair and lightly tanned skin. His eyes are a pale blue/grey colour, matching his leopard form. He has a couple of freckles on his cheeks and a large scar running across his nose in a slanted direction, narrowly missing his eyes.
Alex has gained many scars from battles. He has one large scar on his face, and many small scars and bruises on his arms and legs. When shifting to his 'true' form, his scars are identical to which he earned in his human form and vice versa.
Alex will usually wear dark colours of clothes. This includes black skinny jeans, which will almost definitely have small tears in them, a dark red coloured short sleeved T-shirt and black trainers.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ

Alex is an intelligent person and always tends to develop a strategy before going out to fight, patrol or hunt. This is a useful trait and is one of the reasons he was picked as lead hunter. He usually tends to thick before he acts and is an unaggressive person on the whole, exceptions for when he is angry. Don't make him angry, his emotions can get very out of control.
Alex has an appetite for adventure and is not afraid to put his life in danger. If there was a potentially dangerous new land that no-one had explored, for example, Alex would be the first one to enter it. He will put others before him, and doesn't value his life as much as his allies' lives. He is one to take risks out of curiosity and for the good of his clan.
Alex is a modest and humble person and sees himself to be a lower-class shifting, as he is a one of the only big cats in the clan. He envies the people who can shape shift into mythical creatures, as they tend to be bigger and stronger than his animal form. He worries, and sometimes asumes, that people think he is inferior and weak because of his small animal form.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[gravehound]

removed.

[ExVenor]

(Could I perhaps reserve the medic for the Broken, who cat shift into a panther? The name would be Aisling.)

[Revelry]

(Both accepted! @ Ｒａｉｎ. , don't worry about the picture ^_^ You gave a great description which is perfectly fine with me.)

(Y'all are keeping genders relatively even. I'm so proud ;u; . )

(I have made the decision to open up the Lost leader position for a lack of communication with the previous applicant. If anyone is interested, feel free to apply, just know that it's a role that I expect a good amount out of. )

(Here in a bit, gotta give me a bit to write out the first post and put together the description of each area, as I have realized I totally spaced that initially, we can get this ball rolling! If you want to go ahead and post before I do, feel free to, but if not, I totally understand waiting ^.=.^ )

(My last bit of information is a reminder to check out the discussion forum to put in your suggestions as for plot happenings and to make arrangements with others as well as some harmless conversation :3)

(@Stumpy, Ohai there! <3 You sure can~)

[ExVenor]

(I'll have my form posted tomorrow, when I get home at around 4:00pm Atlantic time. I am trying to get this one to look better then my usual forms, but this is my first time trying to make one more visually appealing. It feels like renovating a house, the foundation and original structure for my character are there, it just needs a better exterior. )


(For the record, your gif for the lost scared me rather effectively. I looked away and suddenly a face popped up. Didn't help I am sitting in a fairly dark room. I got a good laugh out of it.)

[Revelry]

(Hehe. Sorry, not sorry. >:3 I love that gif and I don't know why. It's adorable in a creepy sort of way. I understand the form decorating, though. It takes some time, but it feels so much more rewarding in the end. Take your time and don't rush ^.^)

═════♚═════

Darius Barrett
Male
Twenty-five
The Broken Leader
Gryphon
════════
"Tonight the foxes hunt the hounds
It's all over now before it has begun
We've already won"
═════♚═════

The leader of the infamous tribe of the Broken sat in the chair of his office desk. His elbows rested on the smooth wood surface and his forehead was laid in his palm. Strange or not, it was a rather common pose for him to take up, especially as of recently. The posture only added to his rather messy appearance. His blonde hair was often unkempt and left to its own will, sticking this way and that, often smoothed back in one fell swoop of his hand. Rarely did he bother to comb it. Typically, his fashion was to continuously sweep it down, then again only a few moments later. This often contributed to the messy look rather than helped it. Features that he could not so much help were also a testament to what he dealt with from day to day. There were always dark spots beneath his eyes, left over from not sleeping for days on end. He had a scruff to him, a stubble of facial hair that was result of some mindless attempt to look presentable and also the very opposite of that. He simply did not bother with shaving every morning. Faint scars crossed his face. One in particular was typically noticed before the others. It was a pink mark that ran from behind his right ear, down to his collarbone. There was a story behind every mark, but that one, that was a story he hadn't told anyone.

The most noticeable part of his features were his eyes. They were always a confusing thing and no accurate method of telling his feelings. In color, his irises were a pale, baby blue that could be both cold as ice or soft as silk. Depending upon who they turned upon, they had a different effect. Some swore that the orbs were sharp and those of a killer, others claimed to see them as strong, but careful, or soft and welcoming.

In great contrast to the appearance of the man who sat at it, the desk was rather magnificent. It was made of sturdy, rich oak, sanded, and polished. There were intricate engravings carved into it in no particular pattern. The closest thing they resembled was a tangle of vines and thorns. The carvings ran along the base of the desk then twined up each side, diminishing on the top of the furniture. There was good utility in the desk as well. It had plenty of drawers for keeping whatever it was that needed a home. In this case, they were stuffed with papers that contained old battle plans, maps, the journal writings of a past leader-- Darius' father--, and even sealed envelopes that had the threat of death if someone pried into them. Just one of the closely guarded secrets Darius kept was that very desk. How he had come across it was clear, what he kept within was not.

Not so long ago, the leader had managed to spot a cargo ship off the shore of the island. He wasted no time in jumping on the opportunity. Soon he had rallied their numbers and launched an attack on the vessel. It was a grand plunder. All of which was aboard was high quality furniture or another sort of useful good. There were medicines they took from the crew, used to supply the infirmary, some food from the kitchen, and a whole array of blankets from the quarters. Of course, the valuable cargo on board came in the form of couches, beds, tables, chairs, you name it. That which they could not use, they disposed of overboard to dispose of any sign that the ship had even been there. The crew was killed, some jumped overboard and attempted to swim to safety, and the ship was abandoned. It is rumored that on clear days, you can still see the large vessel over the sea.

The majority of these plundered items found their home in a decently sized house that served as the centerpiece of the mountain village. It was one of the only, if not the only, modernized building, as far as appearance is concerned, in the village. It had two stories, organized and separate rooms, storage, an office, and an infirmary. This was the main building for those of the clan. Technically, the house belonged to Darius. However, he opened it to the members of his clan. If there was to be a meeting held it would take place in the living room there. Food times were often carried out there as well. It was where the sick were taken and where the warriors were briefed. Outside the insulated walls, some chose to build their own home. A few shacks dotted the area around the main house that shifters call their own. Under Darius’ rule, he has allowed whomever to build their own home if they wished. So long as the individual secured the materials themselves, or with the voluntary help of others, he had no problem in it. Usually, building a new hut was an event that every member took part of as a sort of stress reliever.

Presently, it was a calm day, rather warm outside for once, and still Darius was cooped up in his office, about ready to pull out each and every one of his hairs. Not only was there a lack of support for his clan, but there was a move to be made that he didn't know how to go about. Days had passed since he last interacted with the other members of his clan, leaving him locked away in mysterious silence.

════♐════

Erika Thorne
Female
Nineteen
The Broken
Karkadann
════════
"We were the ones who weren't afraid
We were the broken hearted
We were the scars that wouldn't fade away"
════♐════

While Darius was busy locked away in his study, there was a lapse in authoritative watchfulness, there was no one who was more eager to take advantage of this than Erika. Already gone for the day, the karkadann was nowhere near the mountainous home of her clan. Her hooves had carried her a long distance and very swiftly. It was then that she found herself walking leisurely on two feet among the few trees that lined their territory of the island.

The girl took pride in the fact that she was only breaking one rule at that very moment. The expectation for them not to go out alone was unfair and sometimes impossible to keep. Never had she bothered to try. Yet, she has still not got caught. Just about every day, Erika wandered away from her 'home' and to the forested area. She preferred the solitude and calm atmosphere that surrounded the area, rather than the crisp air of the mountains. Of course, she often had another reason to trek away without telling a soul. She was meeting with her brother. An enemy.

It was there that she found her thoughts. They dwell upon her brother, taken from her so many years ago. How unfair it was that she was not allowed to even speak to him, to look at him, or shake his hand without getting herself locked up-- in the case of the clan, this was being bound to an object by her wrists, as dungeons were a little above them. For years, though, they had both risked their lives and broken each rule put in place just to get a chance to speak with one another. Not once had they spoke of each side's plans or goals. They would do what they could to see each other, to have a friend in all of the madness, but never to so strongly betray their clan.

Once, she had tried to argue with Darius about the rules. She tried with all of her will to get them lifted so that they might "be better able to evaluate the other side", but alas, he saw right through her. Darius shot down the idea as quickly as Erika had brought it up. The only thing the conversation accomplished was making the leader even more wary of the karkadann.

With a heavy sigh and a kick cast at a small nearby rock that sent it tumbling out of sight, Erika cast the reflection from her mind. The matter that now drew her attention was nothing more than the nature around her. It seemed undisturbed and she made good effort to keep it that way. While she was no creature of stealth, she consciously paid attention to the volume of each step she took.To her great pleasure, she fell into a careful rhythm that came with nearly no sound. The birds remained in their perches, undisturbed until...

Bark! Bark!

The birds swept out of the trees and all small critters ran for shelter. No longer was their a gentle, white noise to the area, but a stark silence.

Erika whirled around on her heels and had her fists raised defensively in a heartbeat. It was one of the hounds, she knew it. A wolf or a hellhound from the other clan. She must have stepped over the boundary without knowing. But how had she passed the no man's land without realizing? Her mind reeled over all possibilities, final words, plans of action. If it were a single wolf, she felt she could take it without a challenge. She had the advantage of size on it if she were to shift, which she had yet to do. But, if there were more than one, that was where the real danger was. The pack knew how to find the weakness in any creature, when more than one banded together, they were known to be able to bring down the fiercest of creatures.

Expecting a sneak attack, the direct tackle was almost more shocking than an attack from the bushes would have been. The girl was brought to the ground swiftly from the weight of the impact as a force rammed into her body. A short shriek of surprise escaped her, though she would deny it until the end of her days in order to prevent her pride. The end of her days could have very well been that day. She could've sworn that, lying there, she was a goner. In a turn of events, before she could react, the canine opened it's jaws and... licked her face?

She was showered in love from the dog who's tail wagged at a million swings per second. It was panting from the apparent run it had taken to get to her. With a rather dirty pelt, once snow white with neat brown markings on its sides and either side of it's head, the canine was a familiar sight. The warm brown eyes it held were a welcome relief from the earlier fear. At last, Erika calmed and gave a laugh, using her hands as an attempt to shield herself from the licking. Her hands went to the dog's chest as she tried to push her away.

"Sage, Sage, baby, let me up!" Through her words, Erika still found a chance to laugh at her beloved canine companion who had fervently tracked her from the mountains, to the woods.

════♫════

Zaila Terry
Female
Eighteen
The Lost Medic
Qilin
════════
"You are what you love
Not who loves you
In a world full of the word 'Yes'
I'm here to scream 'No'"
════♫════

The Lost territory was a rather quaint place. It was charming in it's own right. Nestled among a more sparse section of the forest, it was a community built around the trees. Very few had been removed in the process of building the encampment, so many years ago. The wood which was needed to build the houses and cabins was taken from a different section of forest where it was far from sight. In a greatly eco-friendly manner, no supplies were wasted in creating the homes and furniture of the clan. Part of this came from the qilin that populated the island and were part of the clan. They were rightful tree huggers.

The houses that this wood was used for, against the suggestions of the qilin to live in natural rock formations, were typically either a small tree house, or a larger cabin. Each member of the Lost had their own home, unless they chose to room with another. It was common that the homes of the ranking members where larger than those of the others, passed down through generations, rather than built upon gaining a rank. Some of these abodes served as both a place for the officer to rest and a community place. For example, the leader's home was used for holding meetings and gatherings; the medic's served as an infirmary; the hunter typically was connected to the storage house; and the alpha was entitled to leave their home open to those of the pack.

On a good day where little was occurring, waves could be heard hitting the shore not so far away. From some trees, ones with a rather sparse canopy, one could see the ocean from atop them. The land was always rather peaceful, until you stepped out of bounds. Then, the dangers of the woods came down on you like an anvil. Anything that moved held the threat of being poisonous, even the plants wanted to kill you. Living there was always a ray of sunshine and a shroud of darkness at once.

A drawn out shout-- that was quite clearly from a male, loud and running-- cut through the calmness of the camp. It was then that a swift streak of pink crossed the path that linked up the various cabins and tree houses of the Lost territory. Bare feet fell quickly upon the worn dirt path after a pair of covered feet as an incoherent string of shouts rang through the trees.

When one payed significant attention to the strange blur, it was easily identified as Zaila. Her bright pink hair flowed behind her, the cause of the color of the blur. The ivy eyes she possessed were fixated into a glare on the one who was just a short ways ahead of her. One of her hands was raised above her head. In that hand was an object that was at first strange and foreign to the eyes. Then, it would be seen as a none other than her beloved frying pan.

Zaila was a girl of short stature, but tall spirit. Her attitude was bigger than any other's. Nothing seemed to be able to out sass her. Not so long ago, there was a rumor that she stood up to an enraged mother bear and promptly yelled at it to go back to it's cave and stay there in time out without the slightest of flinches. The bear, in turn, did just that. It grumbled in discontent, leveled itself, then loafed back to the dwelling where it's cubs rested. Now, whether or not that story is true is left for the individual to decide. Zay had never confirmed nor denied it.

The one ahead of her was a little harder to identify, though his large stature and only half graceful way of movement gave away who he was. It was, of course, Robin. The poor loaf had stepped upon a wildflower without realizing, earning the wrath of a particular 'tree hugger'.

"Robin Thorne! You get back here, mister, or I promise this frying pan will take your head off in one sweep!" This came from Zaila, just as she picked up speed. She was quickly closing the distance between herself and the hellhound. One would suspect the canine to be no match for the small qilin. That was often quickly proved wrong. A day in which Robin wasn't pulling some prank on the small girl to set her off was rare.

════♞════

Robin Thorne
Male
Twenty-two
The Lost
Hellhound
════════
"Let's forget about the rain
Don't let your worries wash you away
Let's forget about the rain
Hold onto the calm before the storm came"
════♞════

The fighter's feet could not carry him fast enough. Truly, he was pushing his legs as fast as they would move. However, his human form was not the fastest around. Where some had speed, Robin had strength and endurance. He was a muscular man, a tall one too. For an imposing figure, the shouts and fleeing from a girl three quarters his size were a little shocking if one were new to the area.

Robin was a male who could often intimidate those he met if he were to glare or frown. But, he rarely ever did show and displeasure. In battle, he would snarl and growl to keep up the show, otherwise, he was surprisingly docile. Often times, he sported a bright, warm smile upon his smooth features. His skin was tanned brilliantly from hours spent out in the sun. The man's blue eyes were always kind and playful, ever in good spirits. One could read him like a book. Never did he try to hide anything unless utterly necessary-- for example the existence of his sister--, never did he bend the truth.

There was noted some irony in the scene of the qilin chasing the hound. A qilin, a species said to be purely holy and unsullied, armed with a frying pan, chased a hellhound, a species said to be servants of the devil himself and nearly pure evil, through the village. In the two, all stereotypes were cast away. The patient demon, the feisty deity.

Even when he shouted, screaming for his life in an essence, there was a distinct jesting tone to his voice. There was a playful matter that could only be likened to the attitude of a puppy-- such as the one who trailed behind the running pair, barking excitedly--"Zay, we can work this out, hon!" In an almost old fashioned way, Robin usually attached pet names to each person. Zay was always hon, an endearing term, affectionate as a brother to a sister, "It was just one flower! I will go out and find another for you to re-cultivate if you really want!" never did he slow down. By that point in their chase, they had run a lap around the perimeter of the village, now, they streaked through the center path system.

It was Zaila's turn to shout again, "It is far too late to try to apologize, mister!" She cracked back, "How would you feel if I crushed you?! That plant did nothing to you!"

"I have a feeling I will soon find out!" Was the very simple, yet completely reasonable, response from the male.

Then, they were back to incoherent shouts, intermixed by more barks of a great Pyrenees puppy who was starting to wear out. After no more than thirty seconds had passed, the dog by the name of Tamoya had caught on and learned. The pup stopped at a point which the pair commonly passed and stood there with tail wagging. His mouth hung open and his tail lolled out. Anytime his owner and the girl passed, he jumped up with a bark, hopped after them a few steps, then returned to his common place.

(Phew, alright, hopefully that covered the locations a bit more. If you have any questions about it, don't be afraid of asking.)

[ExVenor]

(Finally done! if I make any updates to her form I'll alert you to them.)

||Aisling | Resora | Sares ||

Basics:
Name: Aisling Resora Sares
Sex: Female
Age: Twenty-One
Orientation: Straight, she is only interested in males.
Status: Single

____________________

Looks:
Hair: Natural dirty blond hair. It is very long and is slightly wavy.
Eyes: Her eyes are green/grey and the left one has a section of brown (called sectoral heterochromia)
General: She is of average height/weight, and physically fit to keep both of her forms healthy. She has a few tiny scars here and there but there is a more noticeable one on her shoulder. One of the patients she was treating at the time had been running a fever, and in their delirium they shifter forms and attacked her as she turned away to get something. So now she has a scar that is about 6 inches long that runs along her left shoulder blade and angles slightly to the right.
Clothing: She usually wears a kelly green pullover hoodie that is slightly baggy over a long black t-shirt (it reaches the top of her thighs), with blue boot cut jeans, and green/black/gray running sneakers. She sometimes also wears a black baseball cap, or a green tuque depending on the weather.

____________________________________________

Personality:
Kind, Honest, Intelligent, Loyal, Introverted, Confident, Friendly, Calm, Patient, Stubborn, Understanding, Genuine
Aisling can easily be described in many ways but she tries to act as much like herself as possible. A lot of her traits are useful when dealing with various patients in any form. She tends to keep a lot of her emotions or feelings inside, but she will sometimes let people see what she is feeling. She is a great listener, and thinks about things before saying them, as per her introverted personality dictates. She will often hum, whistle, or sing to herself while dancing around when she thinks no one is watching, but she would never admit it. Something she has a lot of guilt about is her tendency to wander away from the clan alone, even though she knows full well she should not. She does it because when she is worried or thinking about things, she wants to be alone and away from others. When she is restless or can't sleep, that is usually when she fades away into the night, she usually returns with some herbs or medicinal plants. She does her best to keep these late night escapes hidden from Darius and her clan mates. She spends much of her time in the infirmary or somewhere close by, Biddy is commonly found wherever Aisling is. If someone where to act unusual and unlike themselves, she is not afraid to inquire about health. If anyone ignores instruction on healing properly then they are ready to face her.

____________________________________________

History:
Aisling came to the island with her mother at a young age, her father had died before she was born. So her mother Rose Sares, raised her as best she could in healing as well as fighting. Rose could shift into a regular panther, and she made sure to teach Aisling as much about that form as possible. Not much teaching was required because it came naturally. After the Battle of the Fallen Aisling's mother and a healer apprentice disappeared and where later discovered dead from a venomous snake. Aisling remembers the chaos of that day with so many wounded and even more who never came home. She had wanted to go to the fight but her mother forbade it, even though extra medical help on the field might have saved someone. There was also the worry later when her mother never came home. While people were healing Aisling learned all she could from the elderly man who took the place as lead medic. When he retired Aisling took the position happily, and has done well in many situations in this field.

____________________________________________

Clan Information:
Clan: The Broken
Rank: Lead Healer/Medic
How: Her mother, Rose Sares, had come to the island with the original group of people. She already had medical training, and a vast knowledge of herbs and natural healing practices. Aisling grew up learning much from Rose before she passed away a few days after the Battle of the Fallen. Rose had left with an apprentice to look for some form of herb to treat an infected wound. Neither had come back, and a few days later their bodies were discovered. Rose and the apprentice had been bitten by a venomous snake and their story ends there. Aisling eventually took over the role that her mother had left, and she has filled this position ever since. She is always open to anyone looking to learn about medicine and healing. Aisling has training for modern medicine as well as herbal/natural medicine.
True/Animal Form: Black Panther

____________________________________________

Other:
She has a companion that is a dilute calico kitten, named Biddy.
http://thecreativecat.net/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/DiluteTortie-carpet.jpg