Post by Makarov on Oct 29, 2010 11:37:01 GMT -5
Priest, the lab rat.
Basics
|Name| Priest
|Aliases| IE006, Six
|Age| 5 years
|Gender| Male
|Affiliation| Rat Rebellion
Physical
|Coloration| White, tanning around his back
|Oddities| Entire right side of face deformed due to drug testing.
|Extras| Can only see from one eye, which is blue. The one on the right side of his head is a milky dead color.
|General Appearance|
Priest is not a tiny rat by any respects, he is large and tough, though not nearly as bulky as most Wild rats would boast to be. The muscles flex and move beneath his careful and silent facade. He is of the Sprague-Dawley labrat strain, his family having long been in the labratory game. His left ear, round but nicked, stands high on his head whilst that on the right side, along with most of the gruesome features there droop down a bit. His face is truly his most imposing feature, long with full cheeks, taught whiskers and a soberly serious face. He appears to be - at first - a rat of no nonsense. The entire right side of his face was effected gravely due to drug and intelligence testings and has been deformed beyond any repair possible. It even caused him to lose vision and partial hearing on one side of his head and the skin and fur around the edges is died sickly colors streaking out from the everpresent wound. Priest's small pink hands are quite dexterous and useful when it comes to utilizing things in his surroundings for any important matter, be it fighting or negotiations.
On his left hip is the tattoo of his testing number: oo6 and his body then leads on down to his slightly "liver-spotted" hind legs as well as his long, whip-like tail which turns to a solid creamy pink near the tip. Priest is definitely a powerful and aggressive specimin in appearance, and most never would think to cross him twice. Especially with that freakish half of his head. He is currently seeking someone with the know-how to construct a mask to cover up the less tasteful side of his face.
Mental
|Likes|
- His Freedom - Since his escape from the Lab he values his freedom and will not give it up for anything.
- Powerful Creatures - Priest likes to surround himself with smart, powerful rats or animals like himself.
- The Dark - The easier to sneak up on you my darling.
- Fighting/Sparring - Nothing gets his blood moving better then a good old fashion confrontation.
- Getting What He Wants - Nuff said.
|Dislike|
- Weakness - His experiences have led him to be a not-so sympathetic rat.
- Heights - Something about being up to high gives him vertigo. Any worse and it cause him to freeze up completely.
- Human Life - Believes it should be abolished for the horrors he and those before him had to endure
|Strengths|
- Physical Power - He's simply a large rat, and a born fighter.
- Mental Prowess - Intelligence testing comes in handy, it really does. Priest's mind words pretty sharply.
Utilizing His Environment - A sub-section of his mental prowess; he quickly can turn his surroundings into something useful. Or at least try.
Manipulation - Priest can be disturbingly manipulative. Another sub-section of his mental prowess.- Ambitious - Gets where he wants to be and won't let any rat stand in his way. Not after he's come this far.
|Weaknesses|
- Eyesight - Can only see out of his left eye. [This alongside his hearing put a large hole in his defenses]
- Hearing - Degenerating hearing in his right ear. [This alongside his sight puts a large hole in his defenses.]
- Anger Management - Subject to unusual amounts of aggression, some have chalked this up to the extensive testing on his brain. They must have pickled it.
- Self Sufficiency - Believes he could probably make it on his own. Dangerous thoughts for a rat.
|Complete Personality|
In his time in the laboratory, Priest has grown to be a very bitter and cynical rat. Dark by some standards he is still bound by a small sense of honor to the rats whom had helped him and he had helped in turn, escape from the pits of hell. Weakness is not something he takes very kindly to though, it is not a part of his nature for he has always learned to be strong and endure. He sees weakness as unworthy and weak talks bubble up a kind of fury inside of him. Though he can be quick to anger and that can cloud his judgement, Priest is a very intelligent rat, very strong and tends to be very manipulative. It is almost psychopathic, the convincing air he has about him. Some find him easy to trust whilst others are repelled and fearful of the look of his face, but he plays with and likes that kind of fear. As respect is something very important to him, even fear can be percieved as thus sometimes.
Priest likes to be in the company of other powerful, intelligent rats and creatures. He feeds on this and finds ways to move the energy and turn a simple conversation into a way to get all the information he needs out of you. Attracted to such a power causes a little bit of natural ambition on his part, as he came from nothing, he believes he deserves a little bit of compensation in life.
He seems loyal but he can be a snake. His mind, always working is a dangerous thing and I think we all know what I mean when I say he thinks far too much.
History
|Parents| Baaz (father), Nun (mother)
|Siblings| Too many to count, none of any note.
|Complete History|
Priest's earliest memory was of a dark metal box, seclusion, scant light slanting down into the pits of his current home. He was a young rat, not scarsely a couple days old, inside of the birthing cages that lay away from the rest of the many rat cages, eclosures, courses and deathtraps. The place smelt sterile except for the familiar scents of his mother and his nestmates, there were many of them, perhaps too many of them. Priest remembered having to fight to get a drink of milk, a fight he won, shoving one of his more feeble siblings out of the way to get at the coveted teet. The other dejected little rat rolled to the side and watched him with forlorn albino eyes, sickly red, little flanks rising and falling rapidly. Priest had paid no attention and began to suckle greedily. He didn't remember seeing that other ratling again though, a female he remembers to this day. Pretty sure she died of malnutrition.
Oh well thats what you got when you tampered with breeding. Somewhere down the line, Priest's great grandparents, great great grandparents perhaps had been brother or sister, or cousin, or some other perverse pairing. That's what you got when you bred weakness directly into the genes of creatures, some just did not make it. Priest accepted this fact of life at a very early age. As he grew, life around the labratory brought many a horror and surprise. He watched as countless of his kind of many ages were picked up by those infernal gloved hands, picked up and poked and prodded and looked at. Analyzed like they were nothing but science experiments. And that's all they were, it infuriated the young rat to no ends. When it came his time to be handled he always tore and gnawed at the hands which tried to test him. It forever marked him as an aggressive rat, for special testing, had he known perhaps he would have smartened up early.
Plucked away from the rats he had grown to know most closely he was placed with another group, one chosen for some top tier testing in natural body enhancement with drugs. It was a program in which few went in and very fewer came forth as any sort of viable success. For the most part it came with severe deformities and even instantaneous deaths. Perhaps they were the lucky ones. Countless times he was taken out, injected and his entire being toyed with in ways no creature should endure. The most horrific were the eye drops, specially designed to apparently enhance vision, HA! Priest lost vision in his right eye that day and the surrounding area of flesh on that half of his head degenerated in a terrifying manner, forever scarring him. It did a lot to his mind as well, turning him slightly twisted somewhere deep inside, aggression was fairly in control but when it flashed it was violent. It was not long after that that Priest, not liable to be used for the drug testing anymore was transferred one last time to a testing group called X-95. Talks with the cluster of rats who spoke in whispers when the humans left their torture room and turned out all the lights turned serious. Here he was placed in a cage with ten other rats every night, though seperate for the most part they made up the most vital core of the intelligent rats..He was marked IE006, with the tattoo "oo6" forever placed upon him.
One was named Mako the undeniable leader, they planned to escape. And so, one night, after a series of meticulous planning, ideas and re-writes on those ideas the whole thing fell into place. Ten cages released 40 rats, with Priest amongst them and they battled their way towards the sewers. He found himself fortunate to be alongside Mako in all of this, even if his way of thinking was off from that of the other lab rats that had escaped. He had always expressed grumbling distaste in the idea of ever going back to the Laboratories, but bit his tongue for the most part. He was alive after all. Finding Ms. Cassie, Bogart and Cane were just one chapter of the long journey they had endured. Finally they had found the rat king, but Mako was foolish enough to think he would risk his neck for the likes of a bunch of doomed and deformed rats. They were turned away of course, and though Priest agreed with Cane in full and wished to stay with him and his kingdom he knew his duties were to Mako and the others... for now. But their talks grew more foolish, word of a rat rebellion scuttled through the ears of everyone and they met with yet another rat Voss.
Mako and Ms. Cassie pleaded with him for his assistance and he agreed under one condition, that they join him in dethroning Cane. That's the moment Priest's ideals changed secretly in his head and he knew where his allegiance lay, but that was not to come out til another time.
--
Makarov
|Where You Found Us| in the Dare to Dream ads. (:
|Sample Post|
This is a post made on another site of mine featuring wolves.
Despite the disease, the great sickness that had spread across this land as a cancer would, the place still looked quite beautiful. The only real changes were the feel, the quiet eeriness which now resided in it held inside of it a heavy dread, something weighty and tangible. To an unhardened soul it would have sent chills down to the tip of your tail, but Dragunov Solokov was a veteran of death and destruction, and agent of chaos. He used not only his power but his pure wile and undeniable political skills and pushed fear not only into the hearts of his enemies but a kind of maddened hate. It could make an enemy surprisingly stupid, and thus were his tactics especially with wolves the likes of Kirill. Russians were an easier breed for him to master, as he liked to think, for they held some of the easiest potential for an explosive personality and a great moral sense in their family pride.
As the monster walked he smiled; An uneasy smile, a powerful smile, yet small like a thin crack across a clean sheet of ice.
The real smile was in those limpid blue eyes, like things of the damned which hung in his head like twin flickering sapphire lanterns. The vicious, febrile brilliance with which they shone spoke of the utter cunning of this new king. The rise of his empire had been a swift one, and dominion of the entire island hung like raw meat before his nose, taunting him. It was there but just barely. The only things that stood in his way were the three main sources of power on the island and those were the Renegade Empire: destructively powerful wolves who would have to be quickly and efficiently contained if any progress was to be made. Then there was Serena and whatever forces she hoped to rally with her Realm dwindling to but a few remaining survivors. Drago thought that maybe she would run to the other packs, but would she be so low as to bow to Kirill and make amends for a pact... The idea seemed slim to him but he kept his options open. You never knew what might happen in wartimes.
He followed his wandering path to his borders where he, not yet having a sufficient number of knights, kept strict guard of his homestead. It was a duty bestowed upon all of the members of The Order nowadays while things still seemed slow. Drago in fact liked such outings though. They gave him a great excuse to get away from the Inner Sanctum and to see the beauteous territory he now possessed. He was a king assessing his new castle, taking in every new sight and sound and yet feeling all the same...familiar with it. This was where he had raised his children.
Caught in the middle of a thought something quite unexpected happened and the white beast was forced to pause amongst the tall brush and lift his muzzle to the air. He scented it delicately, a mix that he knew only distantly and yet all too well. A Warrior was near and...something else.
Suddenly there was movement in the brushes and a pretty white head popped out to Dragunov's right, giving him only a slight startle. He narrowed his blue eyes at her, his own daughter, as she stalked out and she gave him the exact same icy glare, matching his baby blues with her own crimson fires. Yet still she kept her stance respectfully lowered, as if not yet ready to test the boundaries with her father. It was she who spoke first. "Suppose you smelled them too? Her in particular." Dragunov did not want to admit that he had only just stumbled upon it, nor that he had not realized right off the bat that there were two wolves there. He just nodded.
Twilight Heaven regarded her father with scrutiny behind her guarded eyes for a few moments before she turned moved quickly out of the brushes, carving a path towards the cliff-side. She did not even chide him to go, Dragunov just followed at a more steady pace and eventually they found their way to the purple hued sky. The cliffside dropped in front of the young she-wolf and met the beach where the waters crashed and roiled below. One only had to look a little ways down the cliff to see them and when Twilight Heaven did her eyes narrowed once again, this time with the ferocity of the huntress. In no time she was trotting towards them, her tail flagging upwards with authority and her entire impressive form. Not far behind her followed her father who seemed to be hanging back a bit, studying what his daughter might do next, curious.
"I hope you are aware that you are trespassing here, ladies," rang her cold, confident vocals. Her body arched impressively she trotted up until she was but a few wolflengths away before she stopped dead. She scrutinized Carson most of all, all but ignoring Kivani, for she was just an unfortunate, and she would come next of course. Twi didn't want to leave anyone out. Her father finally sidled up next to her and her ears twitched.
"She has a point," he said, backing her up. The Russian accent was unmistakable in his voice. "Why don't you fine dames go ahead and tell us what your names are, eh." It was a rile, a taunt towards Carson for he knew who she was, and she probably remembered him as well.
Both wolves, tall and white, most definitely family, stood facing the two, the she-wolf circling just a tiny bit so escape could not be immediate.
As the monster walked he smiled; An uneasy smile, a powerful smile, yet small like a thin crack across a clean sheet of ice.
The real smile was in those limpid blue eyes, like things of the damned which hung in his head like twin flickering sapphire lanterns. The vicious, febrile brilliance with which they shone spoke of the utter cunning of this new king. The rise of his empire had been a swift one, and dominion of the entire island hung like raw meat before his nose, taunting him. It was there but just barely. The only things that stood in his way were the three main sources of power on the island and those were the Renegade Empire: destructively powerful wolves who would have to be quickly and efficiently contained if any progress was to be made. Then there was Serena and whatever forces she hoped to rally with her Realm dwindling to but a few remaining survivors. Drago thought that maybe she would run to the other packs, but would she be so low as to bow to Kirill and make amends for a pact... The idea seemed slim to him but he kept his options open. You never knew what might happen in wartimes.
He followed his wandering path to his borders where he, not yet having a sufficient number of knights, kept strict guard of his homestead. It was a duty bestowed upon all of the members of The Order nowadays while things still seemed slow. Drago in fact liked such outings though. They gave him a great excuse to get away from the Inner Sanctum and to see the beauteous territory he now possessed. He was a king assessing his new castle, taking in every new sight and sound and yet feeling all the same...familiar with it. This was where he had raised his children.
Caught in the middle of a thought something quite unexpected happened and the white beast was forced to pause amongst the tall brush and lift his muzzle to the air. He scented it delicately, a mix that he knew only distantly and yet all too well. A Warrior was near and...something else.
Suddenly there was movement in the brushes and a pretty white head popped out to Dragunov's right, giving him only a slight startle. He narrowed his blue eyes at her, his own daughter, as she stalked out and she gave him the exact same icy glare, matching his baby blues with her own crimson fires. Yet still she kept her stance respectfully lowered, as if not yet ready to test the boundaries with her father. It was she who spoke first. "Suppose you smelled them too? Her in particular." Dragunov did not want to admit that he had only just stumbled upon it, nor that he had not realized right off the bat that there were two wolves there. He just nodded.
Twilight Heaven regarded her father with scrutiny behind her guarded eyes for a few moments before she turned moved quickly out of the brushes, carving a path towards the cliff-side. She did not even chide him to go, Dragunov just followed at a more steady pace and eventually they found their way to the purple hued sky. The cliffside dropped in front of the young she-wolf and met the beach where the waters crashed and roiled below. One only had to look a little ways down the cliff to see them and when Twilight Heaven did her eyes narrowed once again, this time with the ferocity of the huntress. In no time she was trotting towards them, her tail flagging upwards with authority and her entire impressive form. Not far behind her followed her father who seemed to be hanging back a bit, studying what his daughter might do next, curious.
"I hope you are aware that you are trespassing here, ladies," rang her cold, confident vocals. Her body arched impressively she trotted up until she was but a few wolflengths away before she stopped dead. She scrutinized Carson most of all, all but ignoring Kivani, for she was just an unfortunate, and she would come next of course. Twi didn't want to leave anyone out. Her father finally sidled up next to her and her ears twitched.
"She has a point," he said, backing her up. The Russian accent was unmistakable in his voice. "Why don't you fine dames go ahead and tell us what your names are, eh." It was a rile, a taunt towards Carson for he knew who she was, and she probably remembered him as well.
Both wolves, tall and white, most definitely family, stood facing the two, the she-wolf circling just a tiny bit so escape could not be immediate.
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