[Mexican x Mackenzie Valley Wolf] Zohartze Nov 22, 2014 1:44:34 GMT -5
Post by Zohartze on Nov 22, 2014 1:44:34 GMT -5
Name: South or Niiiiiiiiiile.
Years RPing: 7+ (more like 10 but I forget)
Other: God willing, Zo is headed straight for Kairos.
How You Found Us: Wut wut?
Name: Zohartze (SO-har-CHay - hard ch as in chick)
Birthday: April 7th, 2012 - age 2 years
Species: Mexican Wolf crossed with a mixed female(by Atreyu out of a mixed Mack Valley mother)
Height: 28 inches
Length: 48 inches
Weight: 119 pounds
Coat Color: Mottled black/brown and white/cream.
Eye Color: Golden brown.
Health Issues: Sometimes has trouble seeing in harsh sunlight, mostly if reflected by snow- not genetic.
Other Information: Has the genetic potential to be 34 inches high/50 inches long. Size was greatly stunted due to severe malnutrition, though she remains big boned and stocky with paws that seem too large for her body.
Mental Stability: Sane/Unstable
History:Personality:Zohartze’s story began long before she was born.
Her mother never told Zohartze her story. Through her travels and in talking to the old wanderers on the continent, she knew for sure that Pakuna had always been insane, and had never been in any pack. No one even knew what breed she was, though she was certainly not a small creature. There were rumors that she had been a bastard child from the old horror Atreyu, but no one could be certain. Most of the loners she spoke to only had one thing to say, usually along the lines of: “there was just never anybody home.”
Her father, she was told, was a Mexican wolf named Eligio. Hailing from what he called the Sierra Madre, the Mother Mountains, the male had walked into the arms of poachers proclaiming to the others in his pack that he was on a mission from Fenris. Tranquilized and crated, he experienced powerful hallucinations during his transport, which only furthered his extreme beliefs. He was to be shipped to a wealthy buyer in Saudi Arabia when the ship experienced heavy turbulence and his crate was broken in the rocks, throwing him “miraculously” to shore on the island. Eligio was a zealot by this time, truly believing he was a prophet of Fenris. He landed in Anikira knowing another language entirely, his inability to communicate making his first few months on the island practically unbearable. It was then that he came across Siscarm the elder, who taught him the language with great patience. Eligio blessed him, and promised him that Fenris would repay him in the afterlife for his great deeds to wolfkind. He parted ways with the old creature, and they would never meet again.
In his travels, Eligio met Pakuna. He found her wandering about aimlessly, muttering gibberish with a blank stare on her face. He performed an impromptu exorcism, speaking only in Spanish. The female Pakuna, swayed easily by any amount of attention and swooning in the beauty of the language, believed him fully and was swept away—not only by the religion, but in his incredibly charm.
They traveled together for two years, and with each passing day Pakuna fell more in love. Eligio remained stoic romantically, treating the female as more of a religious apprentice. She learned every prayer in his tongue, as he insisted. It was the one true holy language, after all. He refused every one of her advances, always reminding that it was a sin to indulge in selfish bodily pleasures.
Eligio took Pakuna into the Eye of Fenris, a place he believed to be the most sacred of all places. In the midst of heat and deeply in love, Pakuna seduced him with unrelenting persistence and he could not resist. As he filled her with seeds of new young, he prayed for repentance from his earthly sins. The moment the knot was broken, he had a vision, trembling as his eyes rolled back into his head. In the midst of his seizing, he screamed shrilly and jumped into the deep waters of the sinkhole. He struggled but for a moment, before a look of sinister peace overtook him. He stared Pakuna in the eyes as he sank into the darkness.
Pakuna was mad with grief. In the Eye of Fenris she stayed, eating toads and scratching away at the rocks. She drank the rainwater, lapping it up like the deranged creature she was, silently wasting away. Her litter was born into the darkness of the dank maze through which few ever passed, and Pakuna, stricken with whatever insanity that moved her, refused to even give them names. The largest was a female, only slightly larger than the male, and then a third pup—a male runt. Zohartze and her brothers were not allowed to call eachother anything but simply “brother,” and “sister.” Their mother was a shrewd tyrant, and forbade them from leaving the caverns and hardly letting them out of her sight.
In secret, though, Zohartze and her siblings made names for one another from the chants they heard their mother whisper at night as she stared into the water: Zohartze, Esai, and Benicio. Those were the most beautiful words they’d ever heard though Benicio couldn’t speak for he was too sick. They were all sick. Malnourished and thirsty, they played games and made pretend lives for themselves, never knowing what the world above looked like, though Zohartze would often climb when her mother was sleeping and smell it. The world smelled of water and earth and plants. It smelled of other wolves and beautiful things that she couldn’t put her paw on.
It wouldn’t take long for her wondering to become an opportunity for exploration. Benicio passed shortly after their seventh month, illness simply taking the best of him. The two of them were large, and Beni simply had never grown more than a few inches. Their mother blamed it on the two other children, and in a manic rage, seriously maiming both Zohartze and Esai before throwing herself into the same depths that claimed their father. Pakuna came out of her episode as the first intentional gulp of water hit her stomach. She screamed as the cold water found its way into her nose, and her frantic eyes searched Zo’s for forgiveness. “You must forgive me!” she screeched at her pups, lungs filling with water.
Zohartze managed to find her way to her feet. The young animal stared down at Pakuna with nothing but ice in her soul. “Never,” she whispered, her voice like her mother’s own claws against the rock. She looked over to Esai, who crawled over to the edge of the underwater river. Pakuna clawed at the rock, attempting to pull Esai with her. Zo responded by tearing at her front legs with her teeth until she tasted blood. She didn’t watch the rest, and she helped Esai leave the underground with her. Neither of them ever looked back.
Her first memory of the Upper World was the brightness of it. In fact, she could hardly see a thing, and the sunlight hurt her eyes so badly she had to huddle in place until night started to fall. She took Esai to the marshland nearby, where they tried to learn survival. It was soon apparent to the both of them, though, that Esai’s wound had caught infection. His death was slow and heartbreaking. Zohartze tried to keep him comfortable, but when he died, the wolf that had been trying to stay strong for so long simply shattered.
It was only when she finally put all of the pieces back together that she realized that her soul died when he did.
She found release and contentment in hunting—it would be improper to imply that she found pleasure in it, for she truly couldn’t feel much of anything anymore. She began to wander, stealthily observing others and eventually becoming mildly social for herself, inquiring about all sorts of topics in order to become a shell of a wolf. Zo listened to the rumors and heard every story that trickled from the lips of the wind. She became curious about the monstrous wolves in the North, and the stories of their conquest intrigued her. The spiders whispered of a war to come, and she wanted to be there when it happened.
It occurred to her for the first time that she wanted to hurt something that would scream in her language.
And so she set off for Ina’mos.Zohartze is truly a wolf who has been broken by her past, though you might never know it. There is nothing weak about the female—she does not have thoughts of remorse nor of mournful reminiscence. At the surface of her mind, she doesn’t often think deeply on her past, and though images of her brother do sometimes flash through her mind and she does recall memories, it doesn’t make her feel sad, for she doesn’t feel much. Zohartze is in a constant state of apathy, which could potentially warrant a diagnosis of sociopathic tendencies.
Hidden, though, she is deeply angry and suffers from alarmingly disconcerting nightmares. She does not wake up afraid, though she does notice an aching jaw from grinding her teeth and the constant ache from stomach ulcers due to undue subconscious stress. This contributes to her satisfaction in killing and her fleeting moments of blinding sadism.
At face value, Zohartze pretends to be whatever suits her at the time. In her years of observation, she will often voice back word-for-word quotes that others have made, and mimic their gestures. This is disquieting for those who are around her at any length of time, as they soon begin to realize that her outward personality is not congruent from one day to the next. While she has never spent a great deal of time in any northern part of the island, it is likely that she has observed most wolves that have passed through Aveline and I’queyer from afar, taking special interest in kills and rapes. She most recently stalked a giant wolf and his companion in the Plains, who she took a kind of obsession to—out of a dry curiosity for his capacity to kill, not at all in affection or feeling. Though, being obsessive is not out of the ordinary for Zohartze—no one without compulsions would stalk others for an entire year without speaking.