Welcome to Gaia! ::

This devilish skinwalker was colored by the talented Endejester, and is now up for grabs in our Halloween RP Contest! All you have to do is respond to the prompt below!

You are free to edit your post up until the thread's closing time. After that point, any editing made will disqualify your post. Spellcheck is your friend, so please use it!


Please respond to the following:


You are welcome to create fictional characters (both human or animal) or use any of your own currently owned Soquili/personas in the story, but I remind you that the focus of your story needs to remain on the Skinwalker. Have fun, be creative, and SHOW US WHAT YOU'VE GOT 8D~

The pure golden skinwalker licked his lips as he watched the night’s celebrations going on both for the stupid pathetic humans and the foolish soquili in the area. Oh he was like a kid in a candy store, drooling while in his animal form watching the fools every move just laying and waiting for the perfect opportunity. Tonight would be his night not theirs as they kept to their happy celebrations while he plotted evil deeds that he would commit when he had the chance. It was too good an opportunity to pass up with both parties unaware, so that he could easily sneak in and be a party crasher if he so decided to. Giving a wicked grin, he only had to choose who to target and go for it but he must think things through carefully or he could lose alot for any hasty moves on his part. Claws digging into the ground as he continued the watch, the hunger for flesh and blood was growing with every moment he kept still. Green eyes gleaming with malicious intent, drool was dripping from his maw as he watched a pair of foals wander off from the group. this was now a perfect opportunity for him to follow them as he had a feeling the foolish foals only left to play little I dare you games as it was getting late and most knew never to wander off on your own at night for skinwalkers could lurk anywhere. licking his licks as he stalked his prey, he tried to keep as silent as he could so that the foals would have no idea what was coming as he wouldn't want the little brats running off from him and alerting the others as it would ruin his night that could be filled with lots of death and food if he played his cards right. The chit chat and laughter of the foals was driving him up the wall as both foals where trying to say they where tougher than the other and where on their way to attempt some dare. What fools they where to decide to do this tonight as it was going to be the last thing they ever did. Trailing them, when he felt they were far away enough nether would be able to warn the others he ran through the bushes to get ahead of the two and leaped out in front of them with bared teeth. "Being out late at night, wandering is something you should never do. Didn’t your mother and father ever tell you something bad will happen if you do? Well.....I guess you’re going to learn the hard way!" he watched one of the foals start to back away with fear while the other just stood there stunned. In a split second he went running up and lunging at the foal that had been backing away. If he could manage to injure it enough to keep it from running off then going for the other quickly and immobilizing it, he would then be able to take his sweet time and no one would ever know what happened to them. It didn’t take him long to take care of the first but it seemed the other had gotten enough brains to run off. "Damn it........" snarling with blood now dripping from his maw, he could probably catch the blasted foal but it probably would cause so much problems he would get caught in the end. Ears pinned back he had to hurry before anyone decided to come looking as he was sure that damn foal would be telling everyone what happened. snarling, he tried to quickly take the badly with him while trying to sneak off so no knew he was still about and besides he didn't want to waste this meal he took the time to get. Being in his current form he couldn't go fast enough when carrying the now dead foal and it wasn't long before he could hear thundering hooves trying to track him down. Dropping his prey to the ground, and breathing heavy he was not going to get off scot free at this rate. So he quickly decided to abandon his prey and hide in the bushes till things calmed down. ears pinned and teeth bared as he waited for any to come by, he would get new prey if he took him all night but for now he would have to lay and wait things out as he was sure he would get another opportunity if it presented its self as he was not one to pass them up and was always looking for opportunities.

I'd prefer no novels, but as I (I can't speak for any other judge) love to read in general, I'd say don't worry about a length minimum or maximum!

It seems to be a night of celebration for the two-leggers, but you intend on having a celebration of your own, skinwalker style! On one side, you have the villagers who are too busy celebrating to realize just how poorly they've let their guard down, and on the other, a gathering of Soquili hosting their own festival of sorts. Young and old are among both parties, and all seem to be unaware of your presence. It's obvious that a smorgasbord of opportunity lies in front of you. So...what do you do?


Skinwalker Name: Yanisin; navajo name meaning "ashamed".


The pale-colored skinwalker stood upon a protruding portion of the cliffside when he first heard it. The shrill of cheery voices. The mid-autumn breeze ruffling his creamy pelt, he shifted. His verdant green eyes, glistening with anticipation and loathing, narrowed as his head lowered against the stream of wind to observe. Their celebration was dedicated to a two-legger wedding, apparently. A dark skinned beauty who seemed to be the bride --for she was the only one adorned in pure white-- swerved in motions that any human would find appealing. Disgusting. How they wavered about wildly in their circle; Clapping. Dancing. Yelling. What a senseless bunch. It was almost as if they wanted a maleficent creature to tear up their limbs. The idea wasn't too bad, actually.

With a mischievous grin all to himself and a rare whinny, he spared no time for thinking and proceeded in the shaking off of his skin. His great body, honed to perfection by repetitive [although lonesome] training and the mighty elements from above, began to shrink away into the snug encasement of his coyote-self. Coarse coat growing longer, sharp talons clawing at the stone, persistent smirk kept wide, he was determined to have himself a good time. His transformation was complete in a fraction of a minute, so consistently was it practiced. Sure, it was no record, but he took pride in his ways no matter how minor or flawed. If he had companions, they would have fair opportunity to call him a tad conceited, even.

Yanisin took another glance down at the pitiful beings before taking off. Nothing had changed when he looked back over, their minds were lost to their functions.

'Poor, pitiful beings.'

Even with that thought ricocheting about the bindings of his own cranium, his pace was sure and steady. He held his claws unsheathed, scraping off loose fragments of rock with each step. Unfortunately, he did so in excitement; subconsciously. And though he had no clue at the time, this was his lone mistake.

Down in the valley, the small village roared with laughter and cheer. The chief's oldest daughter was to be wed on this particular day. Weather being ideal, sunny with a discreet breeze, --they couldn't feel the raging torrents of wind for their home was the centerpiece to a basin of cliffs-- it was a happy day indeed. No one would even consider the possibility of being watched. No one, but a shaman so old that the village chatter would tell of him as 'he who had lead a thousand lives'. The wind carried the stallion's whinny to this man, several leaves and the pebbles from Yanisin's prior chiseling joining in the gust as it swept through to help tell the story. The shaman --be he insane or unwilling to live any longer-- simply chuckled, plucking one of the browning leaves in mid-air and cradling it in his palms. As if to explain himself to the now-still air, he spoke in his raspy voice, "he shall do us no harm... For there is doubt rimmed with purity within his heart."

If someone were to hear this old man speaking of the skinwalker's heart, they'd either fall over laughing or scold him for being insensible to the ways of nature. Especially if they were to see the stallion --now in coyote-form-- sprinting towards their dwelling-area. His green eyes were now fierce, brows furrowed and ears flattened against the now-threatening current of air. He was coming up closer with each beat of his nimble heart. This was indeed a thrilling activity; the stretch of his muscles joined with the feeling of flying against the ground was ecstatic.

Now upon the first teepees of the village, he slowed, just a little. He tilted his head in both directions, accompanied by a wild and mischievous glint in his eyes. Seeing no humans, he started up moving once more. This time, however, he slunk about slowly. Cautiously. He kept this pace up until he sensed a strange entity. Something that had gotten too close too fast. He gave a warning growl and spun about to face a young native girl. She was but a toddler; a two-legger that had but taken her first steps. The child screamed at his motions and fell over on her bottom, tears balling up in the corners of her eyes.

And even when he wanted to tear every living human from limb to limb, separate their flesh from blood, his brows twitched up in concern. Even though he didn't summon such a sound, a purr churned in his throat and he leaned forward. What kind of skinwalker are you. Are you a skinwalker? Pushing all his natural, violent instincts aside, --though with shame-- he touched noses with the peculiar other. The other who had perhaps changed Yanisin forever. Made him a coward.

“Hallows…eve.”

Celebrations, joyous times between the two legged morsels and their four legged pet feasts; young, old, everyone was in attendance for this controversial event. To his knowledge, they danced, sang and feasted on the fall harvest all for what? Statues in the shapes of monsters and all things that went ‘bump’ in the night. The humans had even dressed for such occasions, painting their bodies like skeletons, red like blood or spooky creatures on their flesh. Even the Soquili were draped with cloth, paint splashed across their pelts. Pathetic really, to sink to such a level. Where was their prides to be even seen in such ridiculous displays of attire, to be so clearly owned in such a degrading manner.

Yet the question still remained, with all that was lain before him in such a generous means as this…how would he be celebrating such an event? Well – that was quite simple; in a way only a skinwalker could ever fathom enjoying with ever fiber if his being.

Spotting a group of foals frolicking around the tree lines the stallion made his way silently through the shadows. Trickery and treats seemed to be the foundation around this night, so why stray from such a delicious tradition? Instead of his usual means, the Skinwalker took the opportunity to step out from his shadowy domain and headed straight towards the foals. Albeit the few gasps and weary looks the little appetizers gave; they seemed to be hesitant to run in fear like usual…a mistake on their behalves.

”Greetings, little ones. Happy….Hallows-eve. Do you like my costume?” He smirked a toothy grin, emerald eyes glittering from the nearby fires.

The foals looked to one another, a sense of wonder coming over their faces as they looked to the skinwalker once more.

”Costume? Wow! How did you get one so good??” A little colt cried out; his own pelt painted like a skeleton for the occasion.

”Oh, it’s simple. See this pelt? The two leggers gave it to me.” He told, his voice hushing a bit to draw the innocent creatures closer in a sense of curiosity.

”And how did you make your….your teef?” Said a filly which white fabrics nearly covering her whole body imitated a ghost.

”My teeth?” Grinning once more, the skinwalker leant his head down and opened his mouth just enough to see the glittering white fangs. “Why my dear….there are simply potatoes carved like fangs and stuck to my normal teeth.”

”But mister….how did you get your hooves to look like paws?” Said another foal, as the group of them simultaneously looked down to his clawed paws. s**t, this wasn’t good. Slowly dropping his gaze to his paws, he racked his brain for a solution for this little problem.

”Now….that’s a bit of a secret, and is a long; long process. Yet…I will tell you, my treat for you all on such a special night. Come closer…” He breathed deepy, watching them inch closer. “Closer…” In the came, till he felt his own pelt rise and tingle from the proximity of their shallow, excited breaths. “Well, little ones…in order to get these paws…you simply need to be born with them. You’ve been given your treat, now let me give you the trick to follow!” With lightning speed, he slashed down two of the young foals along their necks; immediately ending their lives. A third was cut down by his jaws lashing out and closing tightly around the slender neck; blood trickling down his pale jaws. Shrieks, cries and chaos from the Soquili and Two-leggers erupted into the night as the few surviving foals screamed and dashed back to their parents. Snagging a leg from each of his tiny prey the skinwalker made quick exit with his own treats as their blood left an ominous trail in the dirt.

Tricking and treating was a such a rewardingly fun act, on a night where monsters were celebrated and imitated and seemed the whole world was cast in a devilish light. Hallows eve, it really was a night for the skinwalkers to rule and strive.

With three foals to show for his efforts, well…he couldn’t wait till next year.

((I decided to call the skinwalker "Ahiga" meaing, "he fights."))

The grass crunched softly under the enormous pads of the skinwalker as he slunk around the outside of the village. He could see them all clearly, the cheerful two-leggers dancing around their fires, laughing with one another as they pulled faces and told frightening stories. On the other side, the group of soquili clustered, equally as ignorant. A ghost of a smile played upon his lips. Such opportunity here. Wonderful. And yet...Ahiga had grown rather tired, bored of the same old joke, terrorizing the village. Certainly, it was enjoyable, fulfilling to hear the screams of his victims as they fell before his claws. But tonight was different, special. It called for something more, something better than his usual routine. A celebration perhaps, as was only fitting given the occasion. His eyes roved, and as they landed upon a small group of foals, an idea blossomed in his mind. How satisfying it was, when all the pieces lined themselves up for him.

Ahiga shuddered as his fur rippled, rapidly shrinking inwards upon itself as his body changed shape. A pointed muzzle sniffed the air, the tantalizing scent of pulsing blood drawing him forward. He moved closer to the group of soquili, body quivering in excitement as he tasted their scent. It was intoxicating, and he relt a rush at just the tought of that sweet taste. It was like a drug for him, one that he couldn't quite. Not that he had any desire to. Ahiga grinned, crouching in anticipation, before springing forward like an arrow, a bloodcurdling howl ripping forth from his throat. His pace quickened, and he watched with a sadistic sense of satisfaction, as looks of joy quickly turned to horror, the group of soquili just now realizing what was in their midst. The coyote snarled, and they started, panicking as they turned blindly, stampeding forward, away from his snapping jaws. But he mustn't lose his main focus. As he raced through the throngs of frantic bodies, he made sure to keep his eyes on hisprizes, those delicate foals. A terrified stallion appeared in his line of sight, momentarily blocking his view of the foals. The coyote snarled, and without a thought angrily took him down, claws raking against the soft hide. Normally, he might have stopped for a moment, tasted just a bite of the tender flesh, and then given himself over to his bloodlust. But tonight he would not, he could not afford to lose control right now. And so he restrained himself, doing his best to ignore the ache in his throat as one by one he crushed those soquili in his path, leaving thier slain bodies as his only trail.

He could see the foals now, still together, and running from him. Ahiga laughed, darting off to the side and cutting them off. They turned, and without them realizing it, he herded them away from the village, snapping at their heels if they veered too much off course. There was far too much chaos for the survivors to notice who was missing and his escape was seamless. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of elation. How perfect this would be, how enjoyable. Most certainly worth the fact that had had not been able to feast. That could come later. Soon, the villagers and soquili would regroup, mourning their loss. And yet how ironic it would be that his plan had barely begun, how beautiful, once they realized that this was only the beginning of their pain. Ahiga would be sure to take time to enjoy that later, perhaps gloat about it a little. For now, the game had just begun, and the pawns still must be prepared for play. He drove the foals on, arcing them around into a large cave, until he had them trapped. The group turned in horror, watching as he rose up, shifting his form once again as he smiled down at them from a body that was neither soquili nor coyote.

A small filly at the head of the group shuddered at the sight of his blood drenched body, and with a smug smirk, he strode forward. “Hello there darling. It’s a fine night, wouldn’t you say?”

“Please,” the filly whispered, panic and fear lacing her voice. “Please don’t eat me! Please don’t eat my family!”

The skinwalker shook his head slowly, treading softly forward to stand in front of her. “Eat you? Eat your family? Now child, why would I do such a thing?” He watched as a hopeful glimmer flashed across her eyes, and she looked at him.

“So...you aren’t planning on eating us?” The voice held suspicion, and yet the filly could not keep out that faint note of hope. Ah, such innocence. Ahiga revelled in it. He would love to toy with her longer, but the night was drawing on, and every second he waited was a second lost.

“No child, I will not eat you.” He said, watching as she considered his words, wanting desperately to believe them as relief, disbelief and confusion mixed into the terror in her small face. A malicious grin stretched across his muzzle, revealing the rows of gleaming white teeth as he lowered his head to whisper in her ear. “And I will not eat your family my dear. It is you who will have that pleasure.”

Her head drew away, but before Ahiga even had a chance to see the confusion in her gaze, he struck, sinking his teeth and claws into her small body and downing her rapidly. A piercing scream filled the hollow cave as hot blood rushed into his mouth. But this time, he did not feast. This time he controlled himself, ignoring the need in his throat and stepping away as her body writhed in the ground. He would not eat her. Nor her foolish friends, those silly foals that he had herded in here. He would mark them, change them into what he was, and then unleash them on his enemies. His perfect little army. He wondered how they would react, those soquili and their two leggers. How they would feel when he unleashed these foals upon their own families. What they would do when they felt the fangs of their beloved children sinking into their flesh; ripping shredding, feasting. Would they fight back? Strike out against their own children? Kill their love to save their own pathetic lives? Or would they simply die and accept their fate? The thought brought a sadistic grin to his muzzle and he laughed, the growling sound mixing eerily in with the screams of the filly as he turned his attention to the rest of the foals.

He always did love a show.

(( I'm just gonna call him 'vox secundum cattus' it means Power behind the cat
or maybe Ginger cat for now...XD))

It seems to be a night of celebration for the two-leggers, but you intend on having a celebration of your own, skinwalker style! On one side, you have the villagers who are too busy celebrating to realize just how poorly they've let their guard down, and on the other, a gathering of Soquili hosting their own festival of sorts. Young and old are among both parties, and all seem to be unaware of your presence. It's obvious that a smorgasbord of opportunity lies in front of you. So...what do you do?

Skinwalker’s Name: Cu Bhuidhe – meaning yellow wolf

Sharp pale green orbs glistened in the shadows there was disgustingly happy neighing to the right and burning fire with annoying laughing to his left. The smell of soldering meat had filled the air causing this lightly hued skinwalker to move out of the forest to see what the big fuss was all about.

Ears perked forward and the stallion moved his head between the flickering fire light and the dancing moronic humans, to the celebrating delinquents of Soquili. None of the idiots had their guards up, there were absolutely none; most times it was easy to spot the so called warriors or defenders of the village/herd. A wicked smile came to Cu Bhuidhe’s face.

“The moon is full and there are two open delicious buffets for my picking,” he chuckled to himself. Cu had only been standing outside the forest for a short time when his ears picked up the sound of other’s moving out on this hunter’s eve. More of his kind from the lack of hoof sounds. Ears pinned back and a low growl ripped out of the loner’s throat.

It appeared like he wasn’t the only one interested in the sudden meaningless festivities on this night. Claws scrapped the ground as the loner moved down closer to the action. Cu was going to check out the two groups before starting his type of fun. Fun that consisted of mass panic, mayhem, and well, the spill of blood coating the ground, his paws as well as trickling down his throat; now that would be the start of a party.

Before making it down to the forest of teepees, the skinwalker was in his animal form weaving through the little skin houses. That was until something caught the attention of his nose and ears. Slow breath sounds and the scent of a wee human infant. He listened and a warped smirk came to his maw. Though there would be no fun in taking the infant without some sort of contender, there was no game in it if it was this easy.

Stepping towards the open flap of the teepee, the smell of three other meek humans filtered into his nose. Cu looked over his shoulder and then down to the slumbering meat sack on the little bundle of cloth, he assumed the platter on which a meal laid.

Laughter just kept booming on outside, Cu Bhuidhe let out a loud growl and snapped his jaws right above the infant’s body. It suddenly let out a wail that, even he thought, could deafen the dead. Suddenly, the sound of the weak minded breed closest to the cry began to run towards the sound.

The squalling tuff of meat was thrashing back and forth, Cu cooed, “My, my, my aren’t you feisty.” The sound of the clambering feet were getting closer and so the skinwalker snatched the infant up by the exposed foot in his sharp fang and took off out of the little den.

Men were yelling and there was the sound of a woman wailing, suddenly the sound of the celebration had shifted into an uproar. The infant was just the start of the lone skinwalker’s fun.

Somewhere off to the side he heard the sound of angry snorts and thundering hooves, at first Cu thought this was going to add into his adrenaline pump. However, once he got to the out limits of the teepee forest, he stopped and saw that the other skinwalkers had gone straight for the herd above. Foals were being chased away from their mother, the elder were being taken down, and the whole scene was a picture perfect of chaos. The fragrance of blood filled the air, all the while his meal was just crying.

Suddenly, an arrow breezed pass him and Cu looked back over his shoulder. There was ten men or so standing with bows, arrows and even some were preparing to throw some spears. Narrowing his eyes and baring his crimson fangs, Cu shook the infant before the men like a rag doll and then took off for the forest while they were in a brief state of shock.

Yelling and the sound of men chasing him was hilarious, considering Cu knew these men wouldn’t follow him, even with the infant, into the Feral Forest. The men were quick, and still throwing spears and shooting arrows out at him, but the moment Cu ran pass a tree. He swung the infuriating crying jaws of the infant into it.

The sound of bones cracking and the distinct sound of a frail neck snapping filled the instantaneous motionless and quite frame dangling from his jaws. The sound of the weak human race stalled and Cu knew they had given up.

Cu Bhuidhe stopped and looked back towards the men, dropping his prize on the ground and gave a wolfish grin to them. An angry man pulled back a notched arrow and released it. The loner just barely had lifted his prize and moved when the arrow pierced his right flank. He snarled, clenched his teeth forcing more of the still warm blood to ooze into his mouth, and darted into the deeper part of the forest. The celebrations had come to an end for the lesser creatures, but the Skinwalkers was just starting.