Post by engelvomtoten on Sept 25, 2007 0:41:51 GMT -6
Name
Engel Vom Toten [Engel ; Josef (yo-sehf) ; Rayden]
Gender
Male
Age
5
Appearance
As if his body were carved by the fingertips of angels. His mane from the breath of God. Each vibrant amber strand soft and mesh like the stalks of grain in the the savanna, upon the rise of the sun, swishing as if it were water, gliding, expressing it's true colors from white blond to blond, gold, copper, rust, amber, blood red, mud, and black. His nose firm and straight, a dent, then around his skull. A noble face, eyes of ocean and sky, and the crisp of winter. His nose is speckled, rust and black, nostrils like tear drops. Mane off the elbows. Charcoal pads, soft like the muzzle of a stallion....the finest beaten leather. Mane from his breast, to his abdomen. A smooth, even backside, arched over his hips. An average lengthen tail, with blond head. He walks with his head held low, shoulders shifting gracefully. He illustrates a romantic appearance, warm and befriending, but like they say, don't judge a book by her cover.
Personality
His mood is constantly changing like the tide. Although raised into evil and bondage, he nestles inside him a dying humble heart. Like a cancer, his madness is engulfing him. He is unpredictable, one moment raging like a storm, and the other charming the very soul from you. He is a master at articulation of the mind and the tongue. He can speak is heart very well, and was known among his kind as the fallen leader. He strives to lead, but he is shadowed by evil, and at times he cannot control it, embracing it and destroying not only relationships, but the very life of loved ones. He is at times shamed by his insanity, acting out in rage or frenzy, and other times crying those raw tears of agony, calling out for comfort: that which he usually never receives. He is very large compared to other males, and he knows this. He craves to establish an ego, tormenting, killing, and torturing others, smaller and even larger. Craving for validation at all times, there must be an equal balance of socialization and isolation. If such a balance should even shudder, all hope is lost. He knows not why he remains alive, wishing for death many times, it's as if he walks the land, his dying soul looking for salvation. But he is losing hope, and when the candle light dwindles out, no one will know what creeps in the night.
History
His father was once a great king. It was nothing like some of the leaders of the lion kind, but it was in itself noble. But this was when his father was young. As he aged, things started to decay, including his soul. He rifled through mates like it was a game, frantically searching for a female queen to bare him a righteous son, who would lead them all into the promised land. Nobody even knew what that was. It was as if their true leader had been taken over by the mind of a mad man, when in fact, that was the case. Perhaps he too was searching for salvation, but he looked in the wrong direction and demanded for a son. Finally after much mating and quest for a son, Engel was born. It was a moment of peace, his birth. But his mother, Utora, had him in secret away from the madness of the King. She was hoping for a female cub. She was shocked at the birth of a male, and in her heart knew it was for a reason. She took Engel in her jaw and left, in poor condition for the empire was failing under the evil influence of their King. He had every one search for her, panicked that his 'salvation' was being torn from him. He looked to no avail, and adopted son, forced to by the aging of his years. Rurik, a son from the Kings brother Tyrouka, was offered, though many firmly believe it was a forced situation against the odd of each prides might. Forced from hunger and illness, Utora drug herself and her dying son back to the King. Her execution fed her dying cub, and the others in the pride. Engel was was taken in, and shackled with the burden of being their prophet, a path he would soon walk upon.
Upon recovery of his health, Engel was treated with a mix of affection and abuse, perhaps because of the Kings' madness and the broken heart he carried from the loss of his mate. Engel was simply titled "The Angel", or "Engel Cmerti" in Russian, translated as "Der Engel" from his father's tongue. Engel had the heart, the mind, and the soul of a King, but he too was beginning to suffer the insanity his father handed down on him. He went from independent, strong and brave to anxious, shaky and whiny. When his father noticed this change he only fed him more abuse. This in turn backfired on the King, shutting Engel down completely. Rurik stayed close to Engel, and took care of him in place of his mother and father. Rurik however was beginning to appeal to his uncle more than his own son was, and this would lead to a devastating decision in the near future. Engel loved his father dearly, and was striven to his hardest to please him, but Engel could not understand the feelings he had inside. The sorrow, the depression, and some days the outstanding energy, staying up for weeks eating little and barely breathing in between words as he spoke. The pride loved him, eager for him to be King, hoping he would bring them their freedom from madness. He was charming and affectionate, playful and witty, but they didn't see him when he was hiding in shame, fear, terror that even he himself could not understand. Rurik grew into his young mane, and Engel was left with little tufts. His father sent Engel on a solo hunt before Rurik, under no training or guidance whatsoever. Little can be said on his success, or lack there of. After days of avoiding the return home empty pawed, he appeared before his angry father. Hanging his head he told him he tried, and received what the pride would call "The disbanding of nobility." He was not crippled, but only in the heart. He stopped functioning, and lived curled up away from home. Rurik found him and tried to bring him comfort. After much conversing, he brought his little brother home to a good meal and plenty of water, and affectionate licks from the females. His father was scanning the territory, and the moment was drawing near. The night crawled upon them, father returning, and he sought out Engel's presence. A violent verbal bashing ensued, and then the test of might. His father wanted him to raise arms in a battle of strength, that in which Engel doubted himself to no end. It was a murderous, bloody battle. Engel was rattled by a frenzy, fighting his very father to the death, but the odds were not in his favor. The King scarred and bloody but slight, withdrew his paw to strike, Engel laying on his last breath before him. Rurik came between them, the final blow his father needed to be brought to his knees. Rurik came to his brother, who drew himself to his feet, bloody, broken and withdrawn.
"I cannot kill him for you. Only you can do that. Leave here. You can survive, you know the land and the lions. Find a better life."
And so he has, or so he thought. Now we find him, years up from the moment, in perfect condition, leading what some would think the majestic life. When in fact, there is a darker evil going on inside the brainbox of Engel Vom Toten. Will history repeat herself?
Picture
image16.webshots.com/17/7/6/26/2167706260062814050VolJqZ_fs.jpg
I'm going to be using that male lion photo soon in a siggy thing, I guess. Otherwise, that's him. That and I abused the comma a bit in my post. I had to pause in between thoughts. Translating Russian to English is a painful process.
Engel Vom Toten [Engel ; Josef (yo-sehf) ; Rayden]
Gender
Male
Age
5
Appearance
As if his body were carved by the fingertips of angels. His mane from the breath of God. Each vibrant amber strand soft and mesh like the stalks of grain in the the savanna, upon the rise of the sun, swishing as if it were water, gliding, expressing it's true colors from white blond to blond, gold, copper, rust, amber, blood red, mud, and black. His nose firm and straight, a dent, then around his skull. A noble face, eyes of ocean and sky, and the crisp of winter. His nose is speckled, rust and black, nostrils like tear drops. Mane off the elbows. Charcoal pads, soft like the muzzle of a stallion....the finest beaten leather. Mane from his breast, to his abdomen. A smooth, even backside, arched over his hips. An average lengthen tail, with blond head. He walks with his head held low, shoulders shifting gracefully. He illustrates a romantic appearance, warm and befriending, but like they say, don't judge a book by her cover.
Personality
His mood is constantly changing like the tide. Although raised into evil and bondage, he nestles inside him a dying humble heart. Like a cancer, his madness is engulfing him. He is unpredictable, one moment raging like a storm, and the other charming the very soul from you. He is a master at articulation of the mind and the tongue. He can speak is heart very well, and was known among his kind as the fallen leader. He strives to lead, but he is shadowed by evil, and at times he cannot control it, embracing it and destroying not only relationships, but the very life of loved ones. He is at times shamed by his insanity, acting out in rage or frenzy, and other times crying those raw tears of agony, calling out for comfort: that which he usually never receives. He is very large compared to other males, and he knows this. He craves to establish an ego, tormenting, killing, and torturing others, smaller and even larger. Craving for validation at all times, there must be an equal balance of socialization and isolation. If such a balance should even shudder, all hope is lost. He knows not why he remains alive, wishing for death many times, it's as if he walks the land, his dying soul looking for salvation. But he is losing hope, and when the candle light dwindles out, no one will know what creeps in the night.
History
His father was once a great king. It was nothing like some of the leaders of the lion kind, but it was in itself noble. But this was when his father was young. As he aged, things started to decay, including his soul. He rifled through mates like it was a game, frantically searching for a female queen to bare him a righteous son, who would lead them all into the promised land. Nobody even knew what that was. It was as if their true leader had been taken over by the mind of a mad man, when in fact, that was the case. Perhaps he too was searching for salvation, but he looked in the wrong direction and demanded for a son. Finally after much mating and quest for a son, Engel was born. It was a moment of peace, his birth. But his mother, Utora, had him in secret away from the madness of the King. She was hoping for a female cub. She was shocked at the birth of a male, and in her heart knew it was for a reason. She took Engel in her jaw and left, in poor condition for the empire was failing under the evil influence of their King. He had every one search for her, panicked that his 'salvation' was being torn from him. He looked to no avail, and adopted son, forced to by the aging of his years. Rurik, a son from the Kings brother Tyrouka, was offered, though many firmly believe it was a forced situation against the odd of each prides might. Forced from hunger and illness, Utora drug herself and her dying son back to the King. Her execution fed her dying cub, and the others in the pride. Engel was was taken in, and shackled with the burden of being their prophet, a path he would soon walk upon.
Upon recovery of his health, Engel was treated with a mix of affection and abuse, perhaps because of the Kings' madness and the broken heart he carried from the loss of his mate. Engel was simply titled "The Angel", or "Engel Cmerti" in Russian, translated as "Der Engel" from his father's tongue. Engel had the heart, the mind, and the soul of a King, but he too was beginning to suffer the insanity his father handed down on him. He went from independent, strong and brave to anxious, shaky and whiny. When his father noticed this change he only fed him more abuse. This in turn backfired on the King, shutting Engel down completely. Rurik stayed close to Engel, and took care of him in place of his mother and father. Rurik however was beginning to appeal to his uncle more than his own son was, and this would lead to a devastating decision in the near future. Engel loved his father dearly, and was striven to his hardest to please him, but Engel could not understand the feelings he had inside. The sorrow, the depression, and some days the outstanding energy, staying up for weeks eating little and barely breathing in between words as he spoke. The pride loved him, eager for him to be King, hoping he would bring them their freedom from madness. He was charming and affectionate, playful and witty, but they didn't see him when he was hiding in shame, fear, terror that even he himself could not understand. Rurik grew into his young mane, and Engel was left with little tufts. His father sent Engel on a solo hunt before Rurik, under no training or guidance whatsoever. Little can be said on his success, or lack there of. After days of avoiding the return home empty pawed, he appeared before his angry father. Hanging his head he told him he tried, and received what the pride would call "The disbanding of nobility." He was not crippled, but only in the heart. He stopped functioning, and lived curled up away from home. Rurik found him and tried to bring him comfort. After much conversing, he brought his little brother home to a good meal and plenty of water, and affectionate licks from the females. His father was scanning the territory, and the moment was drawing near. The night crawled upon them, father returning, and he sought out Engel's presence. A violent verbal bashing ensued, and then the test of might. His father wanted him to raise arms in a battle of strength, that in which Engel doubted himself to no end. It was a murderous, bloody battle. Engel was rattled by a frenzy, fighting his very father to the death, but the odds were not in his favor. The King scarred and bloody but slight, withdrew his paw to strike, Engel laying on his last breath before him. Rurik came between them, the final blow his father needed to be brought to his knees. Rurik came to his brother, who drew himself to his feet, bloody, broken and withdrawn.
"I cannot kill him for you. Only you can do that. Leave here. You can survive, you know the land and the lions. Find a better life."
And so he has, or so he thought. Now we find him, years up from the moment, in perfect condition, leading what some would think the majestic life. When in fact, there is a darker evil going on inside the brainbox of Engel Vom Toten. Will history repeat herself?
Picture
image16.webshots.com/17/7/6/26/2167706260062814050VolJqZ_fs.jpg
I'm going to be using that male lion photo soon in a siggy thing, I guess. Otherwise, that's him. That and I abused the comma a bit in my post. I had to pause in between thoughts. Translating Russian to English is a painful process.
