Check out this announcement about new leadership limits in Agrelos

    weirdo squad unite

    wolf isn't a stranger to death, in fact, he likes to think he understands it rather well. he's a bit desensitized to most things due to his past, so if anything, i feel they can just add onto each other's weirdness. lol.

    "By... By the Gods... Is... How... How did you make it out? You're alive... No, it, it can't be..." Moonlight dripped from his brow as they furrowed further, paws shakily stepping forward as he allowed his senses to fully take her in. It was as though he'd been taken back to his childhood, the land before them melting away into gray dirt and skies of steel, pain, hunger. He could hear the commands being hammered in the back of his skull, the sounds of terror spewing from every corner of that dared hold life, and man... Man did he know what that was like. To hold life. To hold is so gingerly, mercilessly in ones palm and watch the fragments seep through the cracks until there was no more. Or so he thought... Until he saw--, "Aeolus... Is... Is that you?" He reached forth with his trembling strength, body massing over her the same way a medic placed a band-aid over a wound; sniffing, rumbling, handsome eyes wide with disbelief as he lowered his gaze to peer directly into hers. "You're alive."


    welcome to this weirdos plotting thread. if you've read any of his posts, you'll probably already know at least the few basic things about him: he's a talker, carries himself highly, and maybe if my writing is well enough you'll see him as a relatively handsome individual. he's got a bit of a backstory that you can find out a little about from his bio at the bottom of the page, but it's ever-evolving and affecting him as a whole, which i find to be rather cool. anywho, if you'd like to plot with him, please let me know! <3 he's only really closed to death and injury.

    open to: just about everything.

    closed to: death and injury.


    "Saleos? Saleos. Hum... You know, the last time I heard that name it was read out with a'many titles and callings... Some so long you'd think they were added simply to make ones head rattle. Amusing, yes?" His tone was something of the rattle in the trees, the bellowing in the wind, the way Gods fought with one another in midday merely to keep manners high and entertainment festering. His body was much of the same, muscular, etched, and churning as the form of ebony specks would make itself known upon the treetops, cascading visionaries like crashing water upon dirty shores - his gaze sharp, curious but unfazed. A slight purr could be heard spinning from his maw as he allowed himself to stand tall over the woman he peered down at, knowing fair well that a woman of her mind likely wasn't very fond of his position, sturdy paws leaped down upon the scene.

    He rotated his head a bit, respectfully allowing her to take her place if she so wish it all the more before respectfully taking her in as well. She was beautiful, yes? Oddly enough, he mimicked her in markings rather similarly save for a few things here and there, but that simply made things all the more a'muse. "He is a great and Mighty Duke; and appeareth in forme of a Gallant Soldier Riding on a Crocodile with Dukes Crown on his head Peaceably; he causeth the love of women to men; and men to women; and governeth thirty whole legions of spirits." He popped off, the vibrations of his whiskers having a 'does this ring a bell' vibe to them. Maybe they did, maybe they didn't.

    "I say 'he' because if I do remember the books correctly, they all mentioned him being so... But what do they know in the end, really? Really? Books are just that after all: Books." His gaze returned to the stranger, a handsome smile dripping from black lips as he titled his head. He'd never scented her before, and even he had been a 'rogue' for the longest of time... Yet he was positive she wasn't of the same kind as he despite her calling. She held no scars of war, no hard scowl of a hard labour. 'Though like most books, it is wrong to judge it by its cover.' He remarked inwardly, seaward eyes scanning the area behind her to make sure she was actually alone before nodding. "Welcome to the Tribe, then. I'm sure the others will be happy to have you in our ranks. I'm Wolfthroat, by the way... Ever be a chance that you need anything, let me know, as your Legate, I strive to aid you."


    The brute of a tom worked his way over the territory with ease, his body was made for this. He was born and raised within the kingdom of everlasting mountains that spread their jagged wings within the heavens above. Long legs of a true bengal propelled the tom over boulders and rocks, navigating down cliffs with ease as his tail balanced him, gracefully following after the tom much like that of a black leopard. A blur of ebony, ash, amongst the darkness and shade that cast over the territory.

    The sun had begun to creep behind the mountains, casting the world within an abyss of darkness. Slivers of light illuminated his trail as the sunset above Wolfthroat's head had begun to fade and melt like liquid paint within the sky. Specks of stars beginning to grace the firmament within a bathe of scattered moon dust. Liquid gold and sequin silver shimmering within the darkness, beacons of hope to those who had lost their way, he always looked towards them for guidance as though he could hear the universe whispering within his ears. They were his ancestors within the rogue group of endless hunting, guiding him, he could feel their power twisting and tangling within his veins. Even in the darkest times he could feel them within his own blood, he could look up within the sky and now that his family was too and perhaps they were thinking of him.

    A low growl emitted within the tom's gullet, a kind of anger burning within his limbs as he ran. He knew better then that. He knew his family was glad he was gone, perhaps they even believed he was dead. They hoped he was dead. Truly, a part of him wished it was so. He was a monster. A fiend. Something that elders told the youngsters late at night to keep their slumber at bay, to wet their tongues with their first taste of fear.

    He'd vanished from the rogue camp that night, slipped from the presence of his guard and found his way standing over it all, beside a black stone path. The breath heaved in his chest, settling past his tongue as he looked out into the darkness. He could see the ribs and skulls of the dead across, decorating the road in a veil of death. The male was silent, his ears flattened against the side of his head as he just stood, hovering over the edge. Breath in. Breath out. He took a step back, leaning his head down and slipping his bloodied collar from his frame with some difficulty before it fell with a thud upon the ground before him. Rows of teeth and claws adorned the blue leather as he stood before it, anger burned within seafoam irises as he simply stood over it in thought. Hard muscles shifted, the wound upon his chest aching. It was as if you could feel the coldness radiate from his body as though ice ran through his veins. It was time to forget of his past. Leave it behind.

    But of course that's never how it worked.

    "By the Gods... W-What time is it?" Shivering in his seat was the lonesome serval, his eyes tired and body heaving in reflection of his thoughts. It had been a nightmare, hadn't it? A dream turned wrong, a time of peace and comfort split in two by the horrific guttural that was his mind. He was scared, scarred, all things in the realm of frightened. It made things amusing for those on the outside looking in, for the beast had never kneeled before anything in his entire life but himself now. He feared only he, just as they feared him. "Damn it be so then... Moon high? Ugh... Better not to dwell on it, there will be other times for that."

    Upon gentle feet did the male push onward into the Tribe, inky form graced by the moon, holding it close to his body, its milky eye etching out his muscular frame as he loomed in silence. Though in the noiselessness was an outcry, a soundless screech for attention, one that he could feel held a meaning behind it. May it be fate for him to have lifted his sleep-starved head from his furred pillow this night? Had the stars beckoned him forth due to an untimely visitor? He didn't know, but damn it all he was here now, might as well find out. Standing tall, dark, and handsome did the male break the silence, sending a ripple in time itself: "I wish to be found."

    [ italic part is his a bit of his past in a dream. c: ]


    "Now, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're a little late on arrival." His rumbled tone came rippling along the line, branches and leaves gently trembling under his weight as he glanced down at the glistening scales that littered her body; her form in his foggy blue visionaries something of a masterpiece. Those incandescent specks twisting and binding, twinkling almost as if spinning in a kaleidoscope. Though he supposed that was enough admiring, he had a new guest upon his clan.

    Climbing down from his spot in the trees, the young male would gaze upon the lion-fish, which in itself was a funny name considering they already existed, just... In a more natural form, he supposed. Though who was he to judge the real from the fake? Certainly not he. "I do believe you already have a relative here, or do you move in schools?" He chuckled softly under his breath, moving closer to bow his head to lovely lady in front of him before taking a seat. "Welcome to the Tribe of Storms and Stars, how might I be of service?"

    [ welcome to the tribe! if you haven't already joined and would like to, we've got a discord server here: ]


    "If you don't mind me asking, where exactly do your clans loyalties lie? As I understand your clan is Proclan, too, correct? We are relatively new and do not wish to step on any toes from clans we have no quarrel with." He questioned the hybrid kindly, cloudy blue eyes gazing over his form as he glanced back at his leader. He didn't want to seem as though he was walking over anyone, but he had his own concerns of course and there was nothing wrong with that. The hybrid sounded wise enough not to undermine them, it wasn't as if they could give them anything, they were small, after all. He had high hopes for his clan, though. To grow large and prosper, to hunt and thrive, he prayed to the gods that everything would work out fine.


    "Ah, it's always nice to see everyone out and about, oh, and who is this?" Flowing, condescending intentions broke the fine layer of dusted life that covered the sun-dappled mountains; warm enthusiasm held with high esteem in the handsome, cascading gaze of the burly male. He was out looking for company, the good kind. He wasn't after anyone in particular, and no, it wasn't of sex or lust, but passion certainly did highlight itself upon his cheekbones as he pressed a soft thought to his thin lips. He'd learned that life was merely an act of uplifting moments and their tragic downfalls, though it was tragic, both would never dare stray far from the safety-net that was their uttermost trust for one another. It was a bittersweet pause to think about, how easily temptation could sway the beast the way it did. Yet he was a strong man, one of few words with ripe meaning, and it had been some while since he'd allowed himself to speak forth. Awhile since he'd allowed himself to travel from his spot, to venture out and find anew, now here he was, speaking to a newcomer. "Nice to meet you, Lotus, I see no reason for our ranks to be too full! There is always space for a extra smiles." He smiled himself.


    "There are different types though, yes? Personally, bring green with wealth can never amount to being green with land and of freedom. Maybe a poor man, but always a free, dirty, happy one at that." A crackling voice of stormy tides lashed upon the earthy tones, ashen paws hitting the sunlight as if he were being bathed in for the first time. Despite his shadowy figure, the male was no stranger to the warmth that was Heaven's light. It seemed the male wasn't much different either. He held the appearance of a sand-strider, though may he not be stereotypical, for all he knew the male was from the tundra. "I'm assuming you aren't from around these parts, hum?"


    "Ah, don't be bashful, madam, it is our job to help you after all." He added a mere second after her maw shut, noting how sudden her change in emotion had been thrown upon them. She certainly was a naive one, that much he could tell, though it was born in the realms of innocence, joy, and frankly there was nothing wrong with that. He, himself, had come upon Bound Meadow in hopes to ease the tension between the Gods in his head. They seemed satisfied... For now. But she? Was she satisfied? The way her body contorted inward as if expecting second hand embarrassment, the way she stood almost shamefully as though the little hummingbird has been caught out in the nude. He knew she was of age, yet she held herself like a child? Or was she merely playing coy? Regardless of its nature, it was still amusing to him. "The land you're gracing right now happens to be a little spot between the Arcane Mountains and the Sundran Jungle called Bound Meadow." He nodded to his colleague, foggy blue eyes glossing over the atmosphere in wonder if there would be any more arrivals alongside them. For now it seemed the felines had everything under control, so to hell with it, really. He returned his focus to the she, smiling gratefully as he caught her sideway glance land upon his muscled mass. 'Shyness will get you nowhere, m'dove. Though don't worry, I'm not one to judge.' "The Tribe of Storms and Stars, a wonderful place to rest too, if I may add... Would you need anything, dear? Water? A quail?"



    name origin: the origin of his name is a rather simple one, being that his form and style of hunting/fighting is similar to that of a wolf. the way his ivories clash upon flesh like a bow through a doves breast, the way celestial eyes watch vigilantly over everything in sight- hungrily, angrily, protectively. those that see his strides often compare him to a wolf in wait, thought mayhaps it has something to do with his elongated fangs and reinforced claws? those who have seen him up close or have had the pleasure of hearing him speak will easily understand the suffix 'throat', as his words drip from the end of his maw as if they originally belonged behind a harp, a piano, an entire orchestra. you might be so entranced by it that your eyes miss the three long scars that line his chest, throat, and chin.

    silly moodboard thingy: wolfthroat moodboard

    "Ah, fair travels, I see?" Boundless legs approached from the background, melodies spilling from his darkened maw reaching the ears of his tribemates much like that of a songbird - and much like one did he loom over any movement, any sound. The serval found himself settling in beside his leader, a firm nod in greeting to everyone but the outsider. Wolf had never been too welcoming of those who flashed fancy titles, those who stank of other lands, and despite this brute having said nothing he already knew everything he needed to simply by the gaze in his eyes. 'Hum. Interesting, this one. He's probably just welcoming us, an invitation, maybe? I feel they would send more if they were concerned about something.' He would glance at the bengal feline to his right, the golden to his left, then the lion ahead. He would wait.