Post by Deleted on Dec 1, 2017 11:33:48 GMT -7
Name: Dagon
Breed: shirexfreisianxthoroughbredxSpanish mustangxpaint
Age: 10
Personality:
Focused, loyal, manipulative, blunt, overanalyzer, proud, cold, brutal. These are all words that have been used to describe me, and they are all the nicer ones. Less flattering ones (at least deemed so by others) would be formidable, intimidating, sarcastic, an asshole. Maybe even a little sadistic, masochistic, things like that. Of course, what others say don't mean shit to me and quite honestly, others are going to think what they think because like assholes, everyone has an opinion. I am focused, loyal, manipulative, blunt, proud, cold, brutal and I overanalize things on a daily basis. I tend to think out every possible outcome of each decision I make. I watch things unfold in my head before I act to know which outcome I want. I am manipulative, blunt and brutal. I'm going to tell you exactly what I think about you, use it against you and then make sure I break you down bit by bit until i leave you bare with only your fears to keep you alive. I am a vision of your nightmare, I am the boogeyman. I am what goes bump in the night. And gods help you, if you piss me off.
History:
Sit down children and listen to Dagon speak. It's a story told by few and heard by many. It's a story some choose not to believe for fear the boogeyman would actually exist. Those who saw his face, it's said they never live to tell the tale. It's a tale of how the boogeyman came to be. Born in a family of assassins, the first born and only child of an assassin partnership created by the very gods they worshipped. A child said to be the very essence of the lord of hell himself, fit into a mortal body. He would be feared, avoided, worshipped and idolized. The young colt was born of white that seemed to be dipped in the coal black that stained the soul of his parents. It's said that later the red shine is the stains of blood from his many kills. The child grew into his home, trained, brainwashed if you must, to believe "It is." not "It's how it always was." Why kill? "Because it must happen." "Why?" "It is our way." These questions swam around in the young beast's mind during his tireless training from sun up, well past sun down. He trained in the art of defense, attack and how to end a beast swiftly, painfully, only after torturing them within an inch of their lives.
He would make a reputation for himself, a killing machine driven by commands from the gods. As he grew, his dark pelt would give way to the crimson color of his victims' very life source, making him that much more formidable. He mastered each level of training until they weren't sure what to do with him. That is until a young fem was placed in his care. As her handler, it was his job to protect her, to make sure she would survive each and every test thrown at her. They trained, much like he had, tirelessly, never ceasing. And they grew close. He first treated her like a child, like a little sibling he could pick at between training sessions. But his desire to have her, to claim her to call her his shadowed his thoughts. They warned him that she would make him soft. He didn't listen. Instead, the duo went on missions together, assignments brought them closer. He was hell bent on protecting her and teaching her, he didn't think about the eyes that followed them.
His success was rewarded when an elder gifted him with a petrified sabertooth skull. It was placed securely on his head, hiding his identity from those who had yet to meet him, and those who didn't know any better. The skull was hard as stone, marbleized from the thousands of years it had sat resting, waiting for him. It rested heavy on his skull, developing thickening muscles of his crest and neck.
During one of his legendary fights, he engaged a foul beast, large mass of mane, claws and canines. The lion could have easily overpowered him, but motivated, driven and determined, Dagon swiftly fought the beast, earning scars and injuries proudly. The lion leapt for his jugular, determined to end this unique beast once and for all. Latching onto Dagon's neck, the Lion's canines sank deep into the crimson pelt. But Dagon would not go down easy. In one swift movement, he brought his skull'd head down onto the beast, stabbing a marbleized tooth into the Lion's cranium. The Lion jerked away in an attempt to free himself, breaking off the tip of Dagon's canine in his skull. The Lion soon died. Dagon, injured, managed to get back to his homeland where his wounds were tended. By sheer miracle, he survived.
By Age ten, his body a shelf of his trophies won from his many fights, he and his charge gained a reputation as dangerous, formidable, figures created from the very nightmares dreamt across the world. They were inseparable. Until an elder demanded they break off the partnership and assigned new mates for them for the sake of bloodlines. Not at all keen on the idea, Dagon and Oteka abandoned the order and sought refuge away from their home. But it was not to be. They would not get their happily ever after. Having been followed, they were attacked by the other trained assassins of the herd. Their intent would be executing Oteka, but Dagon would have none of it. He fought valiantly, only to fall under the sharpened hooves of his opponents. They left him to die as a traitor to his kind, bleeding out on his last battlefield.
Cause of death: Murdered by the organization that raised him.
Important Life Events:
- Murdered those who opposed the law as deemed by the elders in his society.
- Murdered by the same elders for opposing the laws he was trained to believe in.
- Attempted to whisk his beloved away from psychotic 'priests' of their society
Going to Utopia or The Underworld?: Underworld - though it would be amusing if he was in Utopia lol
Why do they deserve it?: There's been no bloodshed that Dagon hasn't taken part in. What's more is he enjoyed it for the first part of his life until it became something he did just because.