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 Posted: Fri Nov 26, 2010 12:52 pm
This is a contest for a Pure Skinwalker. The boy you see here, as is. He does have an unpelted form available upon request, but only to better see his markings. He cannot be RPed without his pelt.  Colored by NilouferStarts: NOW Ends: Saturday, December 4 at 9:30 PM CST (3:30 AM GMT, 11:30 PM ALT, 10:30 PM EST, 8:30 PM MST, 7:30 PM PST)
Skinwalkers are EVIL, dark, twisted, vicious creatures. They are incapable of feeling love and thrive on violence and tormenting other animals.
Skinwalkers CANNOT be lifemated.
Skinwalkers can breed however though it would be a violent and bloody affair, even if their partner was another Skinwalker.
Pure Skinwalkers breeding with Pure Skinwalkers will produce Pure Skinwalkers.
Pure Skinwalkers breeding with anything else, including Cursed Skinwalkers, will not have Skinwalker babies.
Skinwalkers CANNOT have familiars.
ALL Skinwalkers eat meat and meat only.
Skinwalkers NEVER take off their pelts.
Pure Skinwalkers have paws, not hooves. They do not have an unpelted form at all.
Skinwalkers can shape-shift between their pelted equine form and that of the animal pelt they wear - coyote, cat, or wolf.
Skinwalkers do not have positive emotions. The closest they can come is satisfaction, pride and a twisted pleasure at what they do to others.
Prompt You have recently arrived in these lands with sharp teeth and claws and a desire to destroy lives. Not necessarily killing, but causing a great deal of pain and suffering. What will you do to make good on that wish? [size=14][b]From the Gates of Hell...to Me![/b][/size]
[b]Soquili's Name:[/b]
[b]Meaning of Name?:[/b] If the name you picked means something. If not, leave this blank.
[b]Owner:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b] Tell me about the Soquili, what he's like, what he chooses to do with his life and his time.
[b]Response:[/b] Respond to the provided prompt.
[b]How many Skinwalkers do you have?:[/b]
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Posted: Fri Nov 26, 2010 2:40 pm
From the Gates of Hell...to Me!
Soquili's Name: Deathrow
Meaning of Name?: Just a name I liked. Deathrow is the name given to the section of a jail where prisoners go to wait for their execution.
Owner: Syaoran-Puu
Personality:
General persona:
Deathrow is in many ways like a typical skinwalker, blood thirsty and ruthless. When he sets his sights on something it is VERY hard to deter him, he will scheme, plot, kill and destroy to get what he wants... and if it comes down to it he will destroy something rather than not have it. He likes to collect trophies from his kills -mainly feet from animals or teeth from horses, and he hordes his treasures in a place so coated with blood few dare approach it. Deathrow enjoys the death blow, but he doesn't believe that it is an act that should be rushed but instead savored and enjoyed, drawn out to increase the thrill and pleasure of the kill. Blood and hatred drive him, and on a full moon he feels closer to his animal, drawing on the energies of evil and striking out at anything foolish enough to stand in his way or wander into his path. He does not know mercy or forgiveness, and would consider being shown such emotions a sign of weakness punishable by death.
Interaction with others:
He doesn't, period. He prefers his own company and only seeks another out when he is hungry, definitely not for conversation. He doesn't trust anything that moves -which unfortunately for him includes the very trees themselves, he prefers death and pain, two things he understands well. This is why he has made his 'home' (not that he would be sentimental enough to consider it such) in a place where everything is dead or dying... to him that is a slice of heaven. If he was to breed, which in all honesty he has no desire to do, it would simply be to expand the purity of his race not because he wanted to have children. After the deed he would want nothing to do with them.
Hobbies:
When not out hunting or storing his treasures Deathrow likes to dig and build traps, he doesn't like anything sneaking up on him so does his damn best to be several steps ahead of his 'enemy' at ALL times! When he is bored he likes to steal and track the hidden kills of other animals, not to eat them -he likes his meat fresh off the bone- but so that he can deprive them of a meal. If he gets really bored he will track something big and 'scary' looking down simply so he can have a good fight before he destroys them. Since he was a cub/foal Deathrow has been hunted for being what he is; as his strength and power grew he turned the table and began hunting any creature that went by the name 'skinwalker hunter', he refuses to eat them, seeing them unfit to fill his stomach. Instead he humiliates them. Spreading their bones and flesh around to be found and eaten by the lowest of all the creatures, parasites and bugs.
Response:
Blood, anger and pain. All three were ever present for Deathrow, companions that reminded him of everything good and right in the world. Since arriving in this new, strange and dirty land full of light and laughter he had begun to hear rumors of mythical creatures so powerful they could destroy his kind. He licked his lips in anticipation, to find and kill such a creature would be a great pleasure. Angeni, they where called, talked about in hushed whispers of awe unlike those of disgust when they spotted him. Worthless, he would have ripped them all limb from limb without even breaking a sweat, how vulnerable they where. Hiding in numbers in the hope they would be spared.... he would have spared none.
No, worthless creatures where not worth the effort of calculating their demise, but these angeni where an entirely different story. Deathrow liked a challenge, and it had been -oh so long- since he had last found one. Killing was second nature to him, written in his very DNA and imprinted on his every thought. While these disguising creatures around him played and laughed, learning to 'play nice' Deathrow had been learning just the opposite. To rip, and tear, destroy and conquer. He licked his lips again, the terrain was too green for his liking, stinging his eyes and upsetting his stomach, he would find somewhere more suitable to hash out his plans.
It took him days, wandering the too fruitful land full of.... life and creatures of the sun. He hated it! But after a while the land started to turn boggy, the trees where nothing more than dead trunks and arms of wood reaching out as an eery stranger in welcome. Much better, it was a sensation he embraced happily. Fear. To him it was not a bad thing, just like laughter or joy would be considered 'good' to the purer races, no.... a little fear never killed anyone, it simply heightened ones awareness of the world around them.
Ears flicked as he listened. Silence. Perfect silence. No hustle and bustle from creatures working, no splashing and playing of foals and babies, no rustle of leaves and falling of fruit, no whistles or bird calls.... just silence. Perfect, peaceful, beautiful silence. Just what he needed to scheme.... he would find his challenge, and destroy it.
How many Skinwalkers do you have?: 1
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Posted: Fri Nov 26, 2010 2:51 pm
From the Gates of Hell...to Me!
Soquili's Name: Ohanzee
Meaning of Name?: Shadow
Owner: Uta
Personality: Ohanzee is a predator through and through but he is also older, more experienced. While he has come to these lands, he still has the heart of a demon, and as such desires to create hell on earth. While this includes tormenting others, leaving blood shed in his wake, one needs to understand that his desire to purge the world of life is only for his benefit.
He hates noise. Perhaps it was because he was summoned from the depths of the unholy world, perhaps he has overly sensitive hearing, or maybe he's just a crotchety old man, but Ohanzee absolutely abhors others for the racket they make. He loathes the sound of others breathing, the hair on the back of his neck stands when he catches foot falls against the earth, and if you don't get your foal to shut up, he will!
EVERYTHING must be silenced, and it is HE who must be the one to do it! He takes no great pleasure in the kill, but he does take satisfaction in listening to the silence that often accompanies corpses.
One might say he enjoys his peace and quiet, but unfortunately for Ohanzee, that quiet is never found. Due to the fact the world is a rather noisy place, from bird song, to the wind rippling through the leaves of the woodlands, thunderstorms, or waves against the sand, he will never find himself relaxed or at peace.
The striped purewalker abhors the world he has found himself on, and as such takes it out on any whom cross his path. He is violent, he is cruel, and if you make noise he will destroy you for the blasphemy. It is his twisted crusade, to stop the hearts of all that move so he might finally get a little peace and quiet.
He will reprimand himself if he makes too much noise. He often bites at his legs and paws, as if to scold them for stepping upon a twig or leaf. He rarely speaks, he even more rarely snarls, and those who elicit such things often find themselves at the mercy of his fangs.
And . . unfortunately. . . mercy is something he lacks.
Response: Ohanzee hated it here.
Given, hatred seemed to be his only emotion, but on the spectrum of loathing and hatred, he really despised his current position. Everything was so damn loud. Where was the ever blessed silence that only death could bring? Whyever was it lacking?
Slinking through he woods, the skinwalker paused to bare his fangs at his own paws as they too caused such fatal transgressions. His legs and paws were bloodied and scarred from his reprimanding nips whenever he snapped a twig or crunched down upon dead leaves. There was just too much noise. . . . and Ohanzee hated it.
While some skinwalkers desired only death, Ohanzee just wanted quiet. If he could silence voices, silence movement, he would leave satisfied. Unfortunately for his victims, that often meant they were destroyed. . . Better one more corpse than such an offensive and loathsome creature.
The black coated coyote paused in his movements. He was in his coyote form, his paws easier to walk upon leaves without being so offensively loud and annoying. The grating sound of laughter hit his ears, and the golden eyed beast winced. Laughter. How utterly atrocious.
That offense was a death sentence as the coyote focused on the source. The laughter was innocent, and seemed to stop and start all over again. As the ebony coyote picked his way through the woods, he found a young cerynei foal chasing the falling leaves. His horns were beginning to show, and his size pegged him as more a youth. He was caught between the age of innocence and adulthood, old enough to roam alone with little fear, but too young to know of the true nightmares the world possessed.
Ohanzee's ears flattened as the white coated soquili continued in its prancing. How foolish. Even the young ones breathing was gruesome, and the coyote wanted nothing more than for it to finish, to be done. Making no noise, no snarl, and giving no warning, the striped one leapt out of the foliage and attacked.
The pale coated cerynei gave a shriek of surprise, starteled as something black and furry attached itself to his side and back. "GET OFF ME!!" He shrieked, bucking suddenly in an attempt to dislodge the creature, screaming as claws and fangs ripped in to his muscle and flesh.
Ohanzee's anger and hate only grew the louder the cerynei became. He felt his mouth fill with blood, felt the skin give way to his force as his back legs desperately kicked out. He hoped to rip the others stomach open, hoped to slash at his legs and allow his weight to push him over. While he was a coyote, he was strong, and he was swift.
The cerynei twisted and screamed, attempting to crush Ohanzee against the side of a tree. The effect worked, and the ebony coyote felt his breath wheeze, and his grip loosened. It was enough for the now bleeding youth to jerk free of his claws, long gashes and blood spewing from his side. Off in to the woods he took, still screaming for help, but Ohanzee wasn't far to follow.
He was leaving a trial of blood and noise. . . Shifting to his full height and pelted form, the pawed beast took off. The cerynei wasn't quiet, and he had to be! Ohanzee would not allow him to continue to live after such a transgression. There had to be silence, and the cerynei would soon succumb to it! His larger size and agile speed, driven by the taste of blood and obsession, allowed him to easily catch up to the fleeing cerynei.
"Don't hurt me, please! Get away!" The pathetic cry came as the youth realized he was still being hunted. He was slowing now, the pain in his side and leg unbearable and difficult to walk upon. He was panting, eyes wide as plates, even as he continued to try to dodge between trees and zig-zag his way through the woods.
Surely he would find help, wouldn't he? He was no warrior, he knew little how to fight or defend himself, especially when wounded. "Don't kill me, please," he begged, even as tears formed. Surely this beast had to have a heart. He knew of skinwalkers, of their ferocity, but . . . but he couldn't die now! He was too little, too inexperienced! Surely he wasn't good enough prey.
Ohanzee was half-driven mad by the screeches and screams of the cerynei. Even his flailing and running was kicking up leaves and generally causing chaos and noise in his wake. IT HAD TO BE STOPPED NOW! Teeth bared, but no snarl in his throat, Ohanzee swiped at the cerynei's legs, his body stronger and faster, easily tripping up the lithe-legged creature.
While the cerynei was young and fast, he was also still awkward and no mach for the strength of a purewalker. Already wounded, and in a panic, the young foal stumbled. He kicked and flailed, attempting to get to his feet, but it was too late.
A purewalker against a foal was little work. With a snap of his jaws, Ohanzee bit in to the neck of the other, easily silencing it as breath and voice were stopped. Gold eyes stared down at the other, feeling his body twitch and spasm beneath his weight. Hmph. Even without his screams, he could hear the dull thud of the pounding heart, and the lungs heaving in and out as they tried to find air.
He wasn't quiet yet. . . not fully.
The moments passed, the cerynei's eyes glazed over, and its body stiffened. Ears pricked, Ohanzee released the neck of the other, blood dripping from his jaws.
There.
There it was.
For just a moment, the birds quiet, the leaves still, no movement anywhere, came the satisfaction Ohanzee desired: quiet
How many Skinwalkers do you have?: None
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Posted: Fri Nov 26, 2010 4:47 pm
From the Gates of Hell...to Me!
Soquili's Name: Matchitehew
Meaning of Name?: He has an evil heart
Owner: Jezbel
Personality: Matchitehew is a bit of a one trick pony. He likes deception and to twist and turn others into something they would never be. He often takes a role of 'annoyed spirit' and approaches small herds that haven't had contact with him kind before. He spends a varied amount of time there, forcing the herds to do his bidding and be victims and witness torture of others. Its always the young he targets the most. Not to torture.. he spares them that, but to watch and learn as his apprentices. They get favored treatment and often give out punishments themselves, learning to desire pain and torture. Once the children are totally changed he leaves, letting the children destroy the rest of the herd. He doesn't think nor care about what happens to the children afterwards.. though if he were to assume he would think they would become Cursed Skinwalkers.
Response:
Matchitehew silently observed this new area he found himself in from the bushes. Currently he was in coyote form, which was better for espionage. These other Soquili were too... happy. He doubted they knew suffering.. like he did. That was ok though... he would teach them.
He started slow, just harmless accidents really. The elderly mare that tripped and fell on those sharp thorns (really she should have been resting anyway). Children getting lost and falling down large holes (at least most survived). The fires that broke out (well it HAD seemed a bit cold that night). He could see the herd getting jittery and jumping at shadows, whispering they were cursed.
He watched with a disturbed amusement as they prepared a ritual to 'soothe the spirits'. As the ritual ended he walked through the smoke and shifted back to his pelted form, getting a frantic gasp from the crowd of Soquili. One stepped forward "who are you?" Matchitehew frowned "Isn't it obvious? I'm the one who's punishing you. I'm not pleased with how you've behaved." Walking through the crowd he sat himself in the Chieftain position and smirked "I believe an offering of meat may soothe me..." Withholding a cruel chuckle as they scurried to get some. Really it was amazing how often the 'pissed off spirit' thing worked for these small herds.
As usual he spent a few months there. He was served night and day and had a variety of others to choose from for the daily.. or rather hourly torture sessions. Those were always a tribe favorite. The little ones especially seemed to enjoy that... though maybe it was the fact it wasn't THEM they enjoyed. He watched conflicts come about, Soquili turning against each other, foals become his devoted servants (some almost as cruel as he was) until they were all torn apart. No more was it a happy, peaceful herd; but a vengeful herd where everyone looked out for themselves first. He got up and looked around. "I'm... satisfied." Turning to walk away he gave one final signal, as the foals he trained so carefully finally turned against the adults. Giving him wonderful screams to leave to. He glanced around "Hmm.. which way next.." As he headed off to the next happy village.
How many Skinwalkers do you have?: 0
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Posted: Fri Nov 26, 2010 7:58 pm
From the Gates of Hell...to Me!
Soquili's Name: Rasputin
Meaning of Name?: From the Russian mad monk.
Owner: Sleet Tempest Snape
Personality: A predator, and stalker, Rasputin lives for the hunt and the kill. Which one is more important varies, depending on how long it lasts and just how his prey acts. Screaming is good but silence, from being too scared to scream, and crying is even better. Screaming, especially a lot or too loudly, can ruin things actually. Too loud and it becomes annoying, making him end the game(s) sooner then he'd like. Rasputin enjoys dragging things out as long as possible, there can be more fun had that way.
Maybe another reason to drag things out is so he only goes through others slowly, there are after all only so many soquili he can reach out and torture. He can't very well get his paws on every soquili, that's quite impossible and he knows this...though he wishes he could be the cause of nightmares had by all. He'd infact like it greatly if he was the reason behind any and every soquili waking up screaming in the night, looking around in fright to make sure he isn't just hidden in the shadows ready to strike.
Rasputin divides his time between his two favorite forums of torture, and the normal necessary daily, and nightly, activities. While Rasputin enjoys physical torture he likes the mental sort as well. Scaring soquili in the dark, stalking them through the woods and giving them a good fright without them ever once seeing him, bring a great joy to him. To scare someone without them every seeing you, without ever needing to lay a finger on them, it takes great skill and is a skill to be proud of.
Response: How what a lovely place, this land he found himself inhabiting. There were oh so many soquili here to play with, and play with them he would. Infact, Rasputin had been stalking a blindingly bright flutter for the past hour. As she ran through the woods, wings all a flutter, it seemed she had forgotten she could become as small as a bug.
Through the woods she ran, her head whipping all around trying to find her shadowy tormentor. After her he ran making sure he breathed hard and that his paws hit the ground as hard as they could. The louder he was, and more threatening he sounded, the wider her eyes seemed to become.
It was with some satisfaction he watched her back right hoof catch a fallen tree, and send her sprawling. As she fell over, turning her face to the side to avoid slamming her nose into the ground, he felt a smirk cross his features. She was crying now...how lovely. Pawing the ground and snorting loudly he moved around, circling her, as he kept to the shadows. "And now...your mine." His dark, deep, voice came out from somewhere to the front right of her. But then his voice came from behind her and to the left.
"I hope you enjoy games....I'm going to play with you for a long time." And he would. He was going to enjoy breaking her. The first who would have nightmares of him....this one would be special.
How many Skinwalkers do you have?: 0
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Posted: Sat Nov 27, 2010 12:26 am
From the Gates of Hell...to Me!
Soquili's Name: Pisacha
Meaning of Name?: It mean's Demon in Sanskrit
Owner: Moon_Princess_Yuki
Personality: Enjoy's slowly scaring his victim's till they couldn't be scared any more then start to slowly torture them physically till their on the throw's of death and watch as the life slip's away. Though he can also feel merciful and leave them only slightly maimed but still able to survive. He lives of fear more then meat though he will catch a bunny or deer to fill his stomach. He only ever think's about scaring and hurting other's nothing else.
Response:
The night he arrived was a clear full moon sky. A warm breeze blew the sent of freshly bloomed flowers threw the warm air. With the warmth left from the day still in the air the hint of evil soon to come was no way present. But there was still an element of darkness lurking in the woods that would freeze you with fear. A creature that's only goal would be just that gladly taking pleasure in the trepidation. He did not bring terror to this land on the first day of his arrival.
It wasn't till his second day in these lands that the people who lived there first noticed something malicious was out there. A young mare, part of the near by heard had vanished. The first of many who would. They found her two day's later, alive but traumatized by what had stolen her away. She was maimed and covered in blood, some not her own but of a rabbit that had was drained onto her, presumed to rattle her mind. The pain done to her though was worse and deeper then you would think. Her mind was destroyed fear had destroyed every inch of her mind leaving no hope for a peace of mind again.
There would be three more attack's like it before they would meet their tormentor, an evil monstrous Soquili. He had circled the herd as they fell asleep making just enough noise to frighten the ones left unharmed. He had no goal as he did this. No reason to scare these poor Soquili to the point of breaking down. No reason at all, at least besides the simple reason that he was him. To him that was the only reason necessary. On the thirteenth night he arrived in their land he left the shadow's, at first the people saw what seemed to be a coyote colored like shadow's. It was soon evident that he was more then that, something darker then that, when they saw him in his full cruel glory. They saw that he was an entity of the purest evil born only for the pain of other's. He was a pawed, not hoofed creature who wore the pelt of a shadow coyote as his own skin. He was a skinwalker, a pure skinwalker. As the soquili of that lands herd laid eye's on the pelt on his back and heard the whinnies of fear from the victim's he did not kill, only scared to their breaking point, they knew that he was the one who had been causing this terror to over take their land. They also knew that he was being merciful with the lives of his past victim's. And as he smiled at them, a cold cruel smile, they also knew the horror that they had come to know was only a fraction that this vile creature could induce. They knew there time of peace was up.
They gave this monster the name most befitting his character, they call him Pisacha.
How many Skinwalkers do you have?: 0
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Posted: Sat Nov 27, 2010 12:43 am
From the Gates of Hell...to Me!
Soquili's Name: Hania
Meaning of Name?: Hopi name meaning Spirit warrior
Owner: lysia_nyteblade
Personality: He's a predator, cunning, witty but also proud. Pride is his downfall it's his weakness of sorts then again.. he also takes pride in how he abuses others. Prefers to break his victims then eat them while they're still living.
Response:
His stomach rumbled loudly reminding him that in this cold weather he still had yet to find something to eat. Rabbit tracks lead him to a tree line. A small smirk crept up his face as he followed them into the trees. Hopefully he'd find something to satisfy his bickering stomach. Stopping, his ears perked to the sound of his quarry up ahead. He could just see the rabbit ahead. Quietly, carefully he stalked his prey. The rabbit was busily looking for it's own meal and didn't see it's doom sneaking up behind it. Gaping maw full of sharp teeth opened up ready for the kill. His paws came down on the bunny, mouth soon to follow it. The squall of a hurt rabbit rang through out the woods soon silenced. He ate swiftly, relishing in the taste and satisfaction of the kill. Leaving blood stained frost covered ground behind him, he moved on to see just what turmoil he could stir up next. This new land seemed to be quite entertaining indeed. it surely was plentiful with game from the many different tracks he could see.
He soon came upon a small doe. "Ah.. now here was something worth my while." He thought to himself as he stalked closer, watching her every move. She seemed to smell the fresh blood that spattered him from his previous meal. Her now skittish actions made this clear but even more clear to him when he saw her flag her tail, the white fluffy underside of the white tail doe showed nicely, warning any others around her of near by danger. He watched her closely, intent on seeing her becoming more and more uneasy as he stayed near. A wicked glint in his eyes mirrored an even more wicked grin.
He was out from the shadows before the doe even had a chance. He panicked bleat for help did nothing more than to encourage him. He snapped at her legs, injuring one so that she had trouble as she scrambled to move and get away. Once the last snap of a leg had been made, he stepped back watching the doe flounder about with broken legs. panic and pain showed brightly in her eyes as she stared up at him. "Oh how lovely..." He was admiring his work and even more so admiring the look in his prey's eyes. The rabbit had been enough to keep his belly hushed for a time, but here.. now he had a meal.. and this meal.. he could fully enjoy and take his time with.
Grabbing one of the doe's legs, he drug her off to a near by cave. Here he'd have his meal and indulge in this game turned meal.
How many Skinwalkers do you have?: 0
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Posted: Sat Nov 27, 2010 1:52 pm
From the Gates of Hell...to Me!
Soquili's Name: Tyri Loki
Meaning of Name?: Mostly revolving around tricksters X-D
Owner: Divena
Personality: Tyri is a trickster. Not as in a good natured prank, but rather deceptive. While he enjoys a good bloodbath every so often, his game involves more subtleties. He prefers to trick his prey into destroying themselves. His favorite method is to take his coyote form and pretend to be nothing more than a normal coyote. After all, everyone knows what a Skinwalker Soquili looks like, but few people noticed slightly larger than average coyote wandering around.
Response:
This world was far too peaceful. Tyri had spent several days exploring this new land and observing the locals, and he had come to one conclusion. Everyone was far too happy, too peaceful. It was disgusting and insulting. It was with this in mind that he took his coyote form and approached a nervous looking stallion.
“Ho there!” Tyri called out, pitching his voice to what passed as pleasant for these feeble minded beings. “What brings a fine Soquili such as yourself out here?”
“Ah, hello,” the stallion greeted with a smile, as oblivious to the danger stalking toward him as a pig being led to the slaughter. “I’m meeting my lady here.”
“Your lady,” Tyri repeated, nodding. “Lucky girl, I’m sure. Your mate?”
“Not yet,” the stallion twittered, nervously. “I’m planning on asking her today. We’re very much in love but… well, she’s such a fiery mare. It’s what drew me to her in the first place. I don’t want to restrict her freedom….”
“Do I detect the sounds of cold hooves in your voice?” Tyri asked, tsking slightly. He shook his head. “I’m certain your lady love will settle for you. After all, it’s not like you’re interested in that pretty red mare that I’ve seen through here.”
“P…pretty red mare?” the stallion repeated, thrown momentarily. “What… um… what pretty red mare?”
“Oh, you know the one, I’m sure. I believe she runs with the local herd. Beautiful creature, if that’s your thing. Personally, I like my ladies with paws, not hooves, but different races and all that,” Tyri chuckled, encouraging the stallion to laugh with him. “I’ve seen her romping with some of the local fellows. Quite the free spirit that one. I don’t imagine she’d ever settle for just one mate. But, like I said, she’s not your lady love.”
“Wh…when have you seen her?” the stallion’s voice was tight and his expression pinched as he struggled to hold back his emotions.
“Why, just a few days ago,” Tyri cocked his head curiously. “Why? Is she a friend of yours?”
“No… not anymore,” the stallion ground out.
“Ah, well then, I’ll be on my way,” Tyri smiled again, this time a true bit of pleasure leaking through as he watched his seeds take root. “Good luck with your lady!” With that final parting, he jogged out of the clearing and found a hidden groove to watch.
Before long, a beautiful red mare appeared to greet the stallion. The love in her eyes was obvious, and any fool could have seen that she was absolutely devoted to her partner. However, the Stallion watched her with suspicion in his gaze, and he didn’t bring up the prospect of becoming official mates. He was, if anything, short with the mare. Before long, they were arguing.
Tyri grinned silently to himself. Oh, there was no doubt in his mind that the stallion would need a few more pushes, but the seeds of doubt had been planted. Before long, Tyri would have the stallion lashing out at his love. It wouldn’t take much to break this flimsy relationship beyond repair.
If he had a heart, he might have thought it was a shame. Just as anyone could see that the mare loved the stallion with all her heart, they could also see that these two were made for each other. Which, of course, was why Tyri had chosen them to toy with. After all, what was the point of planting seeds if the weeds couldn’t choke out all hopes of happiness?
How many Skinwalkers do you have?: None
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Posted: Sat Nov 27, 2010 5:58 pm
From the Gates of Hell...to Me!
Soquili's Name: Daemon'Yutu
Meaning of Name?: Demon coyote that is hunting.
Owner: Tara de Draiocht
Personality:
Twisted. He enjoys playing with his victims before he strikes. The only interaction he gets with others usually doesn't end well... for them anyways. He gets his kicks by attacking or going for the weakest in a pack or herd, as they are usually the most defenseless. The Coyote is known to be the bringer of death afterall, which Daemon'Yutu loves doing. Another thing he enjoys doing is acting 'innocent' at the beginning, baiting the trap or luring with falsehoods, and then WHAM! he attacks them.
Response:
Fur hackled Daemon'Yutu allowed his golden gaze to overlook the cheery land. A snort of disgust interrupted the silence. "This will be all too easy." He grumbled outloud with a hidden glee. His eye sight sharpen on a lone foal playing in the flowers, its mother not to far off tending to the other foal near her. Letting out a semi-crazed evil laugh, Daemon'Yutu shook himself and put on an innocent presences getting ready to perform. The closer the got the bolder other creatures in the woods became. A bird flew close to his paw, big mistake. With a powerful swipe of claws later, nothing was left but feathers and gore. ' Mmmmm.' A pleased rumble filled the air. The smell of the blood made his mouth water and nose flare; the scent teasing him for what was about to come. Daemon'Yutu looked up from his kill to see if he was spotted, no. It would seem the family was in their own little world. ' Foolish, can't they sense danger. Their loss and my gain those.' He scoofed silently to himself with a smirk.
Daemon'Yutu cleaned the blood away, can't give away his intent quite yet. Where would the fun be in that? Stopping infront of the female foal, he tried to put on his best smile... but failed obviously when the child squealed and ran to its mother. 'How rude,' A fierce frown upon his face, he made his way in the direction that brat went. " You there," He pointed to the oldest female. "Where am I? What is this place called?" Not his best tone but he was starting to get annoyed by the female noise. He listened for a few minutes but quickly got bored. " Hm. Never heard of it. Don't like it. I shall call this place mine now." The mother looked surprised as if she didn't believe what he was saying. Oh, she would learn. Her and her children were in for a world of suffering and terror for many years to come.
How many Skinwalkers do you have?: 0.
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Posted: Sat Nov 27, 2010 11:20 pm
From the Gates of Hell...to Me!
Soquili's Name: Ravagiu
Meaning of Name?: Romanian for ravage
Owner: yeomso
Personality: Disciplined and malicious.
He lacks the hubris that other Skinwalkers may have, and is often slinking about when conducting his plans. His form, rather than a large ferocious coyote, is small. (To put bluntly, he's a runt, but he'll never admit it).
His small coyote form is what he curses the world for since he can rarely get anyone to cower beneath him. This gives him even more malicious emotions and takes his frustrations on other creatures. He would trick them, playing cute with his small meek form and luring them away from safety before transforming into his larger Skinwalker form. It's easy to kill them then. To peel their skins into strips and to feast upon their flesh. The satisfaction of enacting his revenge on the world is almost sexual and the only time when he loses his self imposed discipline.
He will attack anything that gets too close as long as they're isolated- he's small, not stupid- and when he knows that they will have no chance of escape. He sees everything as ugly and by killing other things he's bringing the world down to his level.
It's not often that he sees a family, but when he does it becomes his own personal goal to kill everything he sees as affectionate creatures such as nesting birds, nursing mothers. He hates families, tries his hardest to tear them apart, enough to leave his home and other prey (grudgingly, he's willing to leave some nesting bird if he can get to a horse or a human) behind him.
Response: The world was dark, and the field stained by filth. Not literally, but that is how Ravagiu saw it. The bright sun licked against his back with it's harsh burning tongue and he resisted the urge to dirty his coat with flakes of dirt in order to cool off. Instead he hurried forward, his small coyote paws left soft paw prints in the soil as he slowly crossed the plain and into a new region he has yet to explore and leave ruin to. One day to assemble. Another day to act. The last day to bask in his work.
It was too ******** bright and cheery. Stupid imbecile horses, galloping in the field, grazing, spawning left and right! Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting with young foals running about in their naivety and their parents laughing for disgusting and pathetic reasons. They did not know how miserable the world was. Because they thought that they were above such things. Above misery. Disgusting! It was agravating to see how happy they were- they held nothing to be happy about! They just were. And it pissed him off. The first day to assemble. And that's what he did. Located all of the birds, all of the blue jays, all of the mocking birds, all of those pathetic little creatures that never shut up. And then he killed them. Each and every one. The ones he could reach. Bloody wings.
Oh right, back on task. He tore apart their homes, buried their food so it was out of reach. Made it so they couldn't come back. With the birds he did catch, Ravagiu left the dead carcasses on the floor, uneaten and torn apart. He made sure their feathers would be found, leading to their bodies that he stacked into a pile. It was beautiful. He almost giggled in glee. (He did, but he considered what he did "laughing manically)
Then it was day two. The horses would be unnerved. Not knowing what was off. Not knowing that what they were missing were the morning chirps of song birds. But they eventually shrug it off in their inability to pinpoint what was wrong. Then it was time to act, which is his favorite part of the plan. With his small little coyote form he would lure, slowly lure, a foal away from his home. Away from family. Away from safety. And he would watch, lustfully, as he lost sight of the cute little coyote and come across a trail of the most colorful feathers which he would follow. And Ravagui would watch as the young foal would play and act as if he was on an adventure, playing pretend the entire way. Would he come across a treasure? Or possible rescue a young Wind Soquili, an Ali, or even maybe a (disgusting, foul, ugly) Angeni. But he would come across the pile of dead birds, covered in maggots and beetles. The child would panic and his scream would go unheard because he was too far away. Ravagui would come out of the shadows and creep upon this child who would stare at him with such intense fear that the Skinwalker would bask in. Soak up. Shiver in the intense pleasure that he can only feel when he is about to kill. Not kill a foal, but kill a family. Watch a mother grieve at her missing son, until she gazed upon his half eaten body that he would leave on his precious pile of birds. Then she would break to be forever haunted by the songless forest, the quiet that will become ear splitting to her.
Then it is third day. He would watch from the shadows. No longer in his coyote form, but his proud Skinwalker form. Watch as they see him and slowly tie the pieces together. Realize what he did. Fear him. Despise him. And he would only smile back.
How many Skinwalkers do you have?: None~
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Posted: Sat Nov 27, 2010 11:42 pm
From the Gates of Hell...to Me!
Soquili's Name: Izlanzar
Meaning of Name?:
Owner: Teamedwardcullenation
Personality: Izlanzar meticulously practices his hunting, ever craving to be better at it than other skinwalkers in the area, he stalks everything and anything but weather he will actually hunt it down or not remains to be seen, he has practiced stealth until he can blend into the trees almost seamlessly. He has a cruel personality and likes to see how much he can torture something before it freaks out completely, before he actually eats it. he takes great pride in hunting rabbits in both his forms. Because and for no other reason than that they are fast and cunning but he is FASTER. When he outraces a rabbit he is immensely proud at his accomplishment and meticulously cleans all the blood and gore out of his pelt after he is through with it. He is vicious, terrible but thankfully not rabid.
Response: i immediately scan the area for prey adn inspect systematically all the areas that seem promising, making a priority list as I go along and find prey items, rabbit s will most asuredly be first as they are quite the most stimulating prey in my opinion, deer nest because they have the best meat and everything else after that lines up accordingly. If the first rabbit hunt is unsuccessful I move on down the line and predate all I can until I catch something, the unlucky beast would be gashed and tortured, but not enough to suck all the life out, i want to crack it's mental capacity first. i thrive on making them scream and jabber and if I time it right I will disembowl then right before they have a meltdown. That is a true art and well worth the practice. After I am finished cleaning up I go and check on the rabbits to see if they have ventured out of protection. Then I wait and wait until I have cataloged enough behavior and get somewhat bored. Then I continue to terrorize them making them run back in and wait and run in until they have no choice but to face me or go hungry. (As I just ate, It is of little consequence.) Besides this tactic usually works and I never get bored as long as they come out within a reasonable amount of time.
How many Skinwalkers do you have?: 0
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Posted: Sun Nov 28, 2010 1:24 am
From the Gates of Hell...to Me!
Soquili's Name: Siverath
Meaning of Name?:
Owner: magnadearel
Personality:
Siverath likes dark, creepy, and foggy forests. That is likes as in he likes to hunt there. There’s nothing like watching the prey as it knows something is watching it, but unable to discover what. Very rarely is he seen during the day.
He specializes in causing deception and mistrust among friends. Lies and deceit are his weapons. Getting them to suspect then turn on each other is his favorite past time. Once separated and alone he can take them out one at a time. Siverath sets traps around his territory to seriously injure the unwary and incautious.
Defense of his home is vitally important. No one but him and prey are allowed to be there. All other intruders will be driven off. Siverath marks his territory clearly, if you know what you’re looking for. After all, the intelligent shouldn’t be punished for the stupid.
Response:
A black wolf by any other name is still a black wolf. Siverath was currently trailing a couple of stallions foolish enough to enter his territory. The murky fog was more than enough to hide him as he ghosted along behind the pair. For the moment they seemed oblivious of him. He intended to change that soon. After listening to them chatter, he was ready to make his move.
Through the mists he ghosted up. Coming up along the side of one he began to speak in a soft voice. Softly, softly so the other would not hear, “he seeks to bring you down.” Siverath watched the stallion snort in surprise at the voice. “It is true. These are the mists of truth that reveal other’s evil intentions. Here now what he plans for you, deep within these woods.”
The stallion was torn between scanning the swirling mists and looking at his companion. He was pleased. The seed to be planted would drive them apart. “Deeper and deeper he will lead you. Then when you are least expecting it, a turning. Your so called friend will turn and attack you. Crippling you and leaving you here to die for the wolves. You must not let this happen.”
His lies must be craftily woven to hold just a grain of truth to be believed. “Save yourself for he will not. You must get free. Alone and only alone will you be sure of safety.” Siverath dropped back a pace or two to watch. Would it be enough, just for the one? The stallion was thinking hard judging by the way his ears twitched.
Now the next part was to come into play. He moved to the other stallion and began whispering lies of corruption and evil in his companion. Now they would begin to doubt each other. Siverath followed, talking to each in turn, growing the seed of doubt. Soon the two would part, no longer trusting and that would be their downfall. His mouth watered in anticipation.
How many Skinwalkers do you have?: Zero. Thank you for the chance at a handsome skinwalker.
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Posted: Sun Nov 28, 2010 12:31 pm
From the Gates of Hell...to Me!
Soquili's Name: Krason
Meaning of Name?: >D
Owner: sbuggy166
Personality: Krason enjoys taking long walks through the forest. maybe you will fond him walking along the beach or in a meadow. he dosent really respect boundaries or hunting grounds. he just goes were his feet take him. he is like a dog chasing after cars. if it moves he is close behind it barking, growling, and snapping at its heels. sometimes he even barks at trees who's leafs are blowing in the wind. wait did that rock just move? if he ever caches the thing he is chasing (which is most of the time) he will attempt to explain the game of tag. its simple really you run i tag. but you will soon find out that his "tags" arnt as exciting as they sound. by the end of the game you are cut, bruise, bleeding. hurt just enough so you can walk. Krason is in the bushes laughing at you as you hobble on home were he has already killed your family. he beat you there and laughs at your expression of horror, only to claw at your eyes so that it is the last thing you will ever witness.
Response: A dark orange moon hangs low in the sky, it is so big that it almost seems to touch the earth. as the moon rises to the sky a figure rises from the ground. he claws himself free from the dirt. it was a struggle like none other to come here, but now that he made it everything seemed worth the while. the new pure walker looks around. to his left is a dark twisted tree, and standing next to it is a man who is garbed in a pelt much like his own. the man speaks to him, "welcome, you will be known as Krason. i have brought you here, and it is here were you will find the most joy. now go, and find your pleasures." Krason laughs and jumps at the man with his sharp claws. the man seems to disappear into the air, but Krason could still hear is voice on the wind, "you will be just fine Krason."
Krason walked to the forest. it was dark there and comforting. he saw something rustle in the bushes. impulsively Krason jumped at it just like he had the strange man. from the bush darted a young filly. Krason was hot on her heels form the beginning. he could hear her panting and sobbing, her hot tears flying off her face and wetting his. he laughed so hard his sides were hurting. she was easy to catch, her sobs were slowing her down. he caught her ankle between his teeth and pulled her to the ground. she was crying so hard, the fear evident in her eyes. Karson snapped her ankle so that she would not struggle as much. she fell limp from the pain, but the tears did not stop. Krason cleared his throat. "hello there little one. i am Krason. whats your name?" he smiled at her quite politely. when she did not respond he kicked her side, his claws leaving holes. "fine dont tell me. do you like tag? i like to play tag, its a simple game. ill be it first. so you run, and i try and tag you. when you dont want to play any more just tell me so, ok? a dark smile spread across his lips as he opened her mouth with his wet paw. he leaned close to her and whispered in her ear, "now run." the filly got up and ran, with Krason close behind. he caught up quickly and snapped at her shoulder. she coughed, trying to scream, but no sound came out. he let her get ahead, only to catch up again, this time breaking a leg. she tried to tell him to stop, but nothing came out. he laughed as he watched her try to run with her broken body. Krason was enjoying himself greatly, barking and growling each time he got close to her. he caught up again, laughing so hard that he missed her other shoulder, accidentally biting into her throat. he let go of her and sighed as she died. "well you were hardly any fun. ill have to be more careful next time." he shifted into his coyote form and walked off to find a river. all that running made him thristy. he passed the place were he had first caught the filly. he barked at a crow that was curiously picking at something on the ground. Krason laughed thinking of his trick. "just tell me when you want to stop, ok?." the odd sound of a coyote laughing scared the crow away to reveal a small, pink tongue on the ground.
How many Skinwalkers do you have?: 1
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Posted: Sun Nov 28, 2010 6:12 pm
From the Gates of Hell...to Me!
Soquili's Name: Matwau
Meaning of Name?: enemy
Owner: Zolis
Personality: Matwau is exactly what his name means, the enemy to all those he meets. He isn't intrested in killing his prey though. He likes to expose their worst fear. Then put them in the middle of it and twist their minds until tehy break. Killing is an easy out, living in eternal fear and making it so they squirm everytime they think of it. Now that got his blood pumping. And he always looks for the strongest of the herd, because then it gives others a reason to fear.
Response:
Standing high atop the rocks that surrounded the small field, he could see four and two leggers alike. And it discusted him, them living their perfectly happy unfearful lives.
Well. . . . . that wouldn't last long.
A wicked smile appeared under his pelt as he shifted into his small black pelted fox. He jumped off the rock and laneded on small paws moving quickly through the grass. He say a female laying in the grass, her name was Serphamin. And right now she was cuddling her new baby girl, whom had just sprung from her basket.
He smirked, Matwau had been tracking this female for almost a month now and knew her only weaknesses were losing her baby, and scorpions. Which he was going to take care of both, moving back to teh rock he came from he sniffed about, there was a scorpion that lived in theses rocks. Well, after he brought it here a week ago.
He laughed to himself and found it nestled under a rock. He too it by the tail and moved back towards the prey. Serphamin was preoccupied and her baby was wandering further and further away. He took this chance to come between the baby and her mother.
Then he let the small one see him and smiled wagging his tail and acting sweet. The stupid thing was easily won by the cute puppy faces he gave and took the pissed off scorpion back to its mother. Matwau then moved back to his rock and shifted back to watch the caos unfold. Serphamin jumped up and tried to get her baby away from it but couldn't bring herself to touch it before the small insect stapped the baby with its poision.
Matwau laughed and saw the horrifiyed look on the mothers face as her baby fell to the ground, twitched, then died a slow death.
His work was done, the mother fell to the ground and cried. The pain cried filled his ears and his blood began to run faster, pumping his heart faster and faster.
His next target would be even more difficult to expose. And that made it all the more fun for him, the stronger, braver ones always felt better to break.
How many Skinwalkers do you have?: none
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Posted: Sun Nov 28, 2010 8:33 pm
From the Gates of Hell...to Me!
Soquili's Name: Zelophehad
Meaning of Name?: Shadow from terror
Owner: elfstar89
Personality: Zelophehad was told all sorts of things about the world by his insane mother. Parents never willingly reproduce. No mother wants to be a mother. Fathers are only thinking of having the mother, and never think about their foals or the mothers. All parents just want to eat their children. Good thing Zelophehad killed her, first, but after she drove him to torment his own father into an early grave. Zelophehad rather enjoyed watching his father go mad with fear and hate before being stoned off a cliff by fed up two-leggers.
Zelophehad hates families. They lie to each other and hurt each other like monsters. No, not like. Families are monsters, and monsters should never hide their nature. Parents only love their children when they're dining. Lovers only love their lovers when they're doing it. Children only love their parents when they're messing up their parents' lives. And look at all the families in the Kawani lands...
Response:
Zelophehad watched the family of "sky dancers" or whatever they called themselves below. Ha. That black and green stallion didn't really love the star-marked black mare, and she didn't really love her three newborn fillies. What kind of idiocy let those newborns think families really loved each other?
It was late when the black and green filly snuck out and scrambled over the rocks near him. Opportunity was knocking on his door. Good thing he was a wolf now.
"Hey, filly," he called in his husky voice. "What are you doing out here?"
"I can't sleep, but after I look at the stars for a bit, I'll go back to bed with Mommy and Daddy and my sisters."
The wolf grinned darkly. "Do you have a loving family?" he asked subtly.
"Yes, I do," she said cheerfully.
"Awww, such a shame, then. I saw your daddy playing with a kalona mare earlier. They looked awfully friendly," he said, going out of his way to sound like he had a deliciously evil secret.
"A kalona mare? Daddy has kalona friends, but he doesn't visit them anymore," the filly said with a touch of confusion.
"He's lying. He's visiting them whenever he can. Your mommy's just being played around by him." There was something...sweet tasting...about this filly....
The filly shook her head violently, the strange green sparkle in her eyes making them glow supernaturally with stubbornness and hoping disbelief. "No..."
"Oh, yes. Your mommy didn't want you and your sisters. The three of you just came into her life from your daddy having his fun with your mommy. If you weren't around, your mommy could explore the whole world, as free as a bird, and she might even fly to the stars," he added evilly.
"Nooo...Mommy wouldn't do that...and Daddy plays with us...Mommy and Daddy get mad when we play too close to the edge," the filly said, a touch of sweet desperation touching her voice.
"Of course they worry. After all, they wouldn't want a meal to get away from them and fall splat on the rocks."
"Mommy and Daddy aren't like that!" the filly whimpered vehemently, backing away from the wolf.
Well, this was a stubborn idiot. If all else failed in making things clear to a family...a death in the family always helped....
As the wolf became a pure wolfwalker, the filly screamed at the top of her lungs. The skinwalker stallion lunged at the little black and green morsel with her supernatural eyes as something large launched itself at his head with sharp dark blue hooves.
Zelophehad stumbled back as the starry mother wheeled around for a second assault and drove him back with her kicks and lunges away to a crevasse, where he was forced to shapeshift to escape. He watched the mother escort her filly back to the cave with a smile full of shadows and disappointment and plans for revenge on this sky dancer family. They'd find out from him what families were REALLY about, if he had to kill or drive mad every foal he saw.
How many Skinwalkers do you have?: Absolutely none, zippo, zilch, nil.
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