Post by Król on Jan 22, 2017 20:02:43 GMT -6
Years RPing: how bad time me be
Slot Used: Purchased with the help of Chili and Muse!
YOU GUYS ROCK ILU
How You Found Us: yOU GREEDY DIRTBAG
Birthday: October 2nd, 2013
Species: Tundra Wolf
Height: 34 inches
Length: 64 inches
Weight: 125 pounds
Coat Color: Rusty reds and browns with areas of white
Eye Color: Orange, almost yellow
Health Issues: he's really fucking messed up man idk what to tell you
Other Information: Has large scars on forehead and below right eye
Mental Stability: Unstable
Contrary to popular belief- or what Krol himself would have one believe- he didn't earn his first scar from an opponent, from an assassin, or even from a female who was angry over his rejection of her advances. He earned it from his father.
Krol was unfortunate enough to be born into a pack on Anikira that prided itself on its 'pure' heritage and liked to flaunt it in everyone's faces, and any behavior that was considered outside of the norm was quick to be punished. Even as a young child, the brute loved to push the boundaries of what was permitted and what was not, leading his father to lash out at him with his more gentle mother being powerless to stop it. You're a fucking fool, his father would hiss at him, his teeth perpetually bared in malice. You are a purebred wolf, one of proud heritage. You should know better than to be playing silly games and gallivanting about. You are the heir of this pack, and I expect you to start fucking acting like it. The mistreatment would continue whenever Krol dared to suggest that maybe wolves of mixed lineages weren't so bad, that maybe if his pack gave it a chance they would see that all wolves were inherently created equal, and eventually he learned to keep his head down and his mouth shut, blindly following whatever orders his superiors had to give in order to keep himself from harm.
He fell into a routine soon after- do what the pack tells you, and you won't be harmed. Participate in the slaughter, the rape and torture of mixed breeds, and you won't go hungry for another night. Even though part of him, the more childish part that hadn't yet been snuffed out, said that what he was doing was wrong and that he alone had the power to change it, he knew that his father would never back down on a pre-conceived opinion, and the selfish want to be as good of an alpha as he possibly could kept his lips sealed at that moment in time. He trained day in and day out with the more experienced warriors of the pack, learning how to be brutal and use the cruelest methods possible to bring his prey down, and eventually his heart became somewhat hardened, accepting the fact that perhaps mixed-breed wolves really were as evil as his pack was making them out to be. Maybe they were the reason behind all of the pain and suffering in the world, and his father had been right all these years. So it was that Krol threw himself into the violent lifestyle of his pack, learning how to kill, how to be an unfeeling warrior just like they had intended from the very beginning.
That was, until he met Jewel. Jewel was a wanderer of sorts, always flitting on the edges of society but never quite making her presence known, a mishmash of breeds in her blood giving her an oddly speckled coat. He ran into her when patrolling the boundaries of his pack's territory one day, and though his first instinct was to attack first and ask questions later, something held him back. Maybe it was the pathetic way that the mongrel begged for her life, or perhaps it was because she seemed different somehow and willing to listen to his point of view instead of dismissing him in scorn, but for whatever reason Krol found himself growing closer to Jewel as the days wore on, often going out of his way to sneak to the borders just to sit and listen to her talk. He was puzzled by her, and intrigued. She certainly didn't seem like the type of demon spawn that the elders in his pack made mixed breeds out to be, and wasn't going out of her way to cause trouble or make life miserable for purebred wolves- in fact, she had told him the only reason she had crossed into his territory in the first place was to find a specific herb that might help her in her travels. It made him pause and think- what if his father really had been wrong?
This attention did not go unnoticed by the clan elders, however, as one was quick to follow the young brute one day and discover just why exactly he had been sneaking out. His father was rightfully furious when the information reached his ears, but he was at least generous enough to give Krol one last chance to redeem himself- they captured Jewel and brought her to the center of their camp, jeering and spitting at her as Krol was brought into the circle. His father had simply gestured toward the female with one paw, saying a set of words that still haunt Krol to this day. Kill her. Kill her, and string her pelt up by the borders as a warning, and then I will be able to call you my son again.
He could have hesitated. He could have spoken out at the risk of his life, saying that it wasn't right, that he had become close to Jewel and found out that she wasn't as bad as the tales said. But like a coward, Krol went along with his father's plans, brutally raping Jewel before mauling her, ripping the pelt that he'd once found beautiful to shreds and watching as the rest of the pack dragged it away to serve as a warning to any future trespassers. His father said that he had matured, that he could now consider himself a full-fledged member of the pack, but Krol certainly didn't feel like he had grown from such a horrid event. And as a mutiny rose up in his pack, as it began to tear itself apart from the inside, he turned to hardening his heart all over again, shoving the hurt somewhere deep down inside him and building walls so high around it that they could never be torn down again, burying himself within his anger and hatred so no one would have to see how much he was hurting on the inside.
When the time came to finally leave his pack, Krol was glad to do so, eager to start a reign of terror of his own and not be confined by the rules of any one superior- and then the humans came, tranquilizing him with some strange cocktail of chemicals and causing him to wake up in a location that was entirely unfamiliar to him. Enraged and confused as to why his life could have changed so profoundly for a second time, Krol set off to learn just where he was and what his purpose upon these islands were, hoping to find wolves that could share in his rather unique mindset.
The first word that comes to mind when one looks at Krol is that he is cold. Like an unyielding stone, Krol is not quick to feel emotions beyond pure hatred, and is even slower to actually show them to the outside world. He can give off the illusion of feelings if he absolutely must, but for the most part Krol is not one for manipulation or putting on masks, preferring to show the real him to other wolves at all times. And it seems that the real him is cold, sarcastic, holding a pure hatred of small talk and other wolves wasting his time with idle chitchat. He rarely speaks, and when he does his voice is short, clipped, and to the point. Krol does not wish to waste the time of his superiors by chattering away like a canary, and it shows in the way he conducts himself around those that have managed to earn his trust. The male almost goes out of his way to avoid social interaction, and whenever he is forced to be around other wolves he is often short-tempered, verbally taking his frustration out on them for even the smallest of offenses.
Krol is driven through life by one thing and one thing only- his hatred towards those that have fouled his breed with their impure genes, and his lust for power. Krol is greedy above all else, always wanting something even better than what he already has, always hoping to ascend to the next highest rank of whatever pack he finds himself in. The brute is not exactly shy about the methods used to secure such a position, either. Whether it be through blackmail, torture, or outright murdering the opposition, the brute is usually quick to get what he wants, and the same logic applies to those of impure blood that manage to come into contact with him. He was taught from a very early age that impure wolves are the reason behind everything cruel and broken in the world, and he is quick to treat them accordingly, assaulting them both physically and verbally if one ever dares to cross his line of sight. He is cold and ruthless when he attacks, never backing down or hesitating and often using maneuvers that he knows will drag the battle out and make his opponent suffer.
The brute is loyal above all else, once someone manages to earn his trust- which is no small feat, considering that Krol is slow to trust and even slower to actually form meaningful relationships. Krol seems to have a bit of a commitment issue at the best of times, never letting one female or acquaintance tie him down, always flitting from one love interest to another like some kind of mutated hummingbird. He may temporarily decide to settle down with a female and actually attempt to be a faithful mate, but sooner or later he will be gone with nothing in the way of an excuse or a reason for his abandonment, onto the next figure that has managed to capture his interest. More often than not his involvements with females are a "wham, bam, thank you ma'am" arrangement, engaging in a quick fuck with them before quickly leaving them to their own devices to avoid having to look after pups of his creation. Occasionally if he deems a female worthy enough he will stick around and share some part of the pup-rearing responsibilities, but more often than not Krol is content to wander on his own, not letting the prospect of children tie him to any one area.
Loyalty is not something that Krol tends to view lightly, however. If one manages to earn his trust they will find a wolf that would gladly lay his life down for them, a wolf that will never do anything to double-cross or deceive them and will follow their orders without question, even at the cost of his life. The brute was taught almost from the beginning of his life that being loyal and following a superior's orders will keep you alive and safe from harm, and it shows in the way he conducts himself around those he considers his superiors, practically worshiping the ground that they walk on and going so far as to suck up to them, doing his best to ensure that he is kept in good favor and that he never does anything to fall from their good graces.