Post by Deleted on Aug 21, 2013 21:33:00 GMT
Luka Corvus Frost
the basics,
Name
— luka corvus frost
Nicknames
— frost
Age
— seventy-four
Birthday
— december 13
Gender
— male
Species
— shapeshifter
Element
— dark
— luka corvus frost
Nicknames
— frost
Age
— seventy-four
Birthday
— december 13
Gender
— male
Species
— shapeshifter
Element
— dark
appearance,
Height
— five foot eleven inches
Weight
— one hundred and fifty pounds
Hair
— shaggy dark brown hair that is usually swept back
Eyes
— of a startling icy blue shade
Defining Features
— harsh burn in the shape of his family's crest on his upper back right in between his shoulder blades,
Face Claim
— matt bomer
— five foot eleven inches
Weight
— one hundred and fifty pounds
Hair
— shaggy dark brown hair that is usually swept back
Eyes
— of a startling icy blue shade
Defining Features
— harsh burn in the shape of his family's crest on his upper back right in between his shoulder blades,
Face Claim
— matt bomer
personality,
Positive Traits
— highly observant, quick to react to situations, highly intelligent, relatively intact sense of justice, fiercely loyal
Negative Traits
— cold exterior, quick to judge - though fairly accurate, easily irritated, quite animalistic, unbelievably stubborn
Likes
— rain, snow, peace and quiet, being in control, hunting, running, flying, moving in general, observing - usually from afar, sparring, going at his own pace, people that are quick to take hints
Dislikes
— sudden loud noises, noisy ignorant people, bright lights natural or otherwise, crowds, lightning and thunder, extended human interaction unless he prompted it, clingy people, being forced to be still
Strengths
— great reflexes and reactions, silver tongue, keen survival instinct
Weaknesses
— bright flashes of intense light, easily startles, insomniac
— highly observant, quick to react to situations, highly intelligent, relatively intact sense of justice, fiercely loyal
Negative Traits
— cold exterior, quick to judge - though fairly accurate, easily irritated, quite animalistic, unbelievably stubborn
Likes
— rain, snow, peace and quiet, being in control, hunting, running, flying, moving in general, observing - usually from afar, sparring, going at his own pace, people that are quick to take hints
Dislikes
— sudden loud noises, noisy ignorant people, bright lights natural or otherwise, crowds, lightning and thunder, extended human interaction unless he prompted it, clingy people, being forced to be still
Strengths
— great reflexes and reactions, silver tongue, keen survival instinct
Weaknesses
— bright flashes of intense light, easily startles, insomniac
history,
Mother
— lyra frost, deceased, shapeshifter, light
Father
— luze corvus, presumed deceased, shapeshifter, dark
Siblings
— none
Pets
— befriended a murder of crows that take refuge in the dense forest
History
— Luka was born in raised into the widespread though not very large or reputable House Corvus. His father was a violent, unhappy man with nothing to him but his name. In turn, Luka's childhood is not one that he very fondly looks upon. His house crest had been branded onto his back when he was fifteen and his father was known to be abusive on more than one occasion and in more than one sense. Though his affair with his family lies not within his own experiences but actually what happened preceding his birth. Even so, he would not find out of these events until his mid twenties when he would denounce Corvus as his surname and take his mother's instead.
Lyra Frost was a prominent woman who had a lot going for her. Having honed her element at a young age, she spent her life doing what she loved and would do for the rest of her life, heal. She saw her element as a gift and shared that gift with those less fortunate. To those in her community, she was a Goddess is every sense of the word. However, her ceaseless kindness would ultimately become her undoing. How could she have known that the dashing Luze Corvus hid more behind that dangerous glint in his eyes? Why would she have suspected him at all? He had been hurt, or so he pleaded, so she went to tend to him.
How could she have known that he would rape her?
Thus Lyra bore his child, Luka. An accident, a miscalculation. The child never should have even been a consideration and yet there he was. Lyra was dead before the child even opened his eyes. And so Luka was raised in a dysfunctional home with a dysfunctional father. He claimed his first shift early, a black wolf, one that his father was happy to see that he had inherited. His second shift came much later, and his father was not nearly as pleased but rather infuriated when Luka had shifted into a great Harpy Eagle. Though to this day Luka isn't sure exactly why his father had been so distraught, he could only assume that it had been one of his mother's shifts. Luka himself takes pride in the eagle and, though it took him longer to appreciate it, he respects the wolf as well.
Luze trained him, and he trained him right - if that makes one and only one thing. From a young age, Luka received lessons in different styles of combat, how to hone his element, how to get ahead of the game, and how to play it to his liking. Things that Luze would regret teaching his son. Things that would lead to the further fracturing of their family.
When he was twenty-six, Luka stumbled upon old family archives where he would learn of his mother and her fate. He felt... anger, unfamiliar anger. He had learned to be cold, aloof, removed from the situation. The second you give anything to the opposition they could use it against you. Emotions were among some of the riskiest pieces to play and so Luka had learned how to keep them off the board. Yet he undeniably felt a fiery anger that burned within him stronger than anything he had every felt before.
So he killed his father.
No, that wasn't true. He mortally wounded Luze, but he didn't finish him. He had been a bastard man and a worse father, but Luka couldn't bring himself to kill him. It is questionable to whether he survived or not, Luka hadn't followed up and doesn't plan to so long as it suits him. So much as he leaves his name does he leave his past behind him. He feels to resentment nor regret. His past simply is what it is.
Up until recently, when the lights appeared, Luka lived simply without much of a care for anything - spending just as much time shifted as he did not. Not much has changed, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn't curious. He may be a being of the dark, but he did not consider himself inherently evil or against all things of the light. Who knows? Maybe something interesting will come out of this after all.
— lyra frost, deceased, shapeshifter, light
Father
— luze corvus, presumed deceased, shapeshifter, dark
Siblings
— none
Pets
— befriended a murder of crows that take refuge in the dense forest
History
— Luka was born in raised into the widespread though not very large or reputable House Corvus. His father was a violent, unhappy man with nothing to him but his name. In turn, Luka's childhood is not one that he very fondly looks upon. His house crest had been branded onto his back when he was fifteen and his father was known to be abusive on more than one occasion and in more than one sense. Though his affair with his family lies not within his own experiences but actually what happened preceding his birth. Even so, he would not find out of these events until his mid twenties when he would denounce Corvus as his surname and take his mother's instead.
Lyra Frost was a prominent woman who had a lot going for her. Having honed her element at a young age, she spent her life doing what she loved and would do for the rest of her life, heal. She saw her element as a gift and shared that gift with those less fortunate. To those in her community, she was a Goddess is every sense of the word. However, her ceaseless kindness would ultimately become her undoing. How could she have known that the dashing Luze Corvus hid more behind that dangerous glint in his eyes? Why would she have suspected him at all? He had been hurt, or so he pleaded, so she went to tend to him.
How could she have known that he would rape her?
Thus Lyra bore his child, Luka. An accident, a miscalculation. The child never should have even been a consideration and yet there he was. Lyra was dead before the child even opened his eyes. And so Luka was raised in a dysfunctional home with a dysfunctional father. He claimed his first shift early, a black wolf, one that his father was happy to see that he had inherited. His second shift came much later, and his father was not nearly as pleased but rather infuriated when Luka had shifted into a great Harpy Eagle. Though to this day Luka isn't sure exactly why his father had been so distraught, he could only assume that it had been one of his mother's shifts. Luka himself takes pride in the eagle and, though it took him longer to appreciate it, he respects the wolf as well.
Luze trained him, and he trained him right - if that makes one and only one thing. From a young age, Luka received lessons in different styles of combat, how to hone his element, how to get ahead of the game, and how to play it to his liking. Things that Luze would regret teaching his son. Things that would lead to the further fracturing of their family.
When he was twenty-six, Luka stumbled upon old family archives where he would learn of his mother and her fate. He felt... anger, unfamiliar anger. He had learned to be cold, aloof, removed from the situation. The second you give anything to the opposition they could use it against you. Emotions were among some of the riskiest pieces to play and so Luka had learned how to keep them off the board. Yet he undeniably felt a fiery anger that burned within him stronger than anything he had every felt before.
So he killed his father.
No, that wasn't true. He mortally wounded Luze, but he didn't finish him. He had been a bastard man and a worse father, but Luka couldn't bring himself to kill him. It is questionable to whether he survived or not, Luka hadn't followed up and doesn't plan to so long as it suits him. So much as he leaves his name does he leave his past behind him. He feels to resentment nor regret. His past simply is what it is.
Up until recently, when the lights appeared, Luka lived simply without much of a care for anything - spending just as much time shifted as he did not. Not much has changed, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn't curious. He may be a being of the dark, but he did not consider himself inherently evil or against all things of the light. Who knows? Maybe something interesting will come out of this after all.
roleplayer,
Alias
— nox
Age
— sixteen
Time Zone
— gmt-5 (eastern time)
Experience
— off and on for 7 years or so
Characters
— n/a
Referral
— proboards: support
— nox
Age
— sixteen
Time Zone
— gmt-5 (eastern time)
Experience
— off and on for 7 years or so
Characters
— n/a
Referral
— proboards: support
((from the last site i was on earlier this year - a nice little shifter site))
The slight nip in the night air did nothing to affect him in his shifted form. Luckily wolves were very resilient in the fact that Nikita was never really uncomfortable no matter what the season was. In the winter, he grew a long, heavy coat that kept him warm. In the summer, all of that fur was shed and he was left with a lighter set of fur more suited for hotter temperatures. It was a good thing too, because Nik loved being shifted, not that a particularly unpleasant season or two would deter him from shifting whatsoever. There was something so exhilarating and freeing about being nothing but total and primal instincts and urges.
On one hand, being shifted into the large black wolf he was made him feel more equal. His lack of ability to vocally communicate really wasn’t that big of a problem in this form. Sure, he couldn’t howl like wolves should, but it didn’t hinder him as much as it did when he was a human. Animals mainly used body language to communicate, something Nikita understood well. On the other hand, this form almost gave him an excuse to give in to all of those violent characteristics that were present whether or not he was shifted. In this form, it was almost excusable. It was something that a lot of shifters seemed to understand. It was too easy to lose yourself to your instincts when shifted, it happened to everyone at some time or another. The best part about being a wolf, however, was that Nik felt so free. There was truly nothing like the feeling of running as fast as you could until you physically couldn’t run any longer. It was the power and strength that he felt when shifted that he lacked in his human body.
Nikita leapt over a fallen tree and hit the leaf riddled ground running. He wove in and around the many natural obstacles that the landscape provided. He would have kept running on until he collapsed however there was a blur of movement that caught his attention and he was suddenly on the trail of a rabbit. Immediately overtaken by blood lust, Nikita lunged for the small mammal, grasping its neck between his large jaws and snapping down, crushing its neck. He tasted the metallic blood on his tongue almost immediately as he slowed to a stop.
He knew, thankfully, that the rabbit hadn’t been a fellow shifter. Nik made a habit of reaching out to prey with his telepathic ability just to make sure there was no human conscience underneath all of the fur. He didn’t want to involuntarily slaughter someone if he could help it. The large, black wolf sat down and sniffed his fresh catch. He hadn’t really been hungry; he’d just gotten caught in the heat of the moment and killed the rabbit. However, it really would be a shame to let a perfectly good morsel go to waste. He was about to bite into the warm flesh when he heard something rustle the fallen leaves somewhere behind him. Nikita went tense and rigid. His lips pulled back and the fur on the back of his neck stood on end.
He didn’t being snuck up on.
The slight nip in the night air did nothing to affect him in his shifted form. Luckily wolves were very resilient in the fact that Nikita was never really uncomfortable no matter what the season was. In the winter, he grew a long, heavy coat that kept him warm. In the summer, all of that fur was shed and he was left with a lighter set of fur more suited for hotter temperatures. It was a good thing too, because Nik loved being shifted, not that a particularly unpleasant season or two would deter him from shifting whatsoever. There was something so exhilarating and freeing about being nothing but total and primal instincts and urges.
On one hand, being shifted into the large black wolf he was made him feel more equal. His lack of ability to vocally communicate really wasn’t that big of a problem in this form. Sure, he couldn’t howl like wolves should, but it didn’t hinder him as much as it did when he was a human. Animals mainly used body language to communicate, something Nikita understood well. On the other hand, this form almost gave him an excuse to give in to all of those violent characteristics that were present whether or not he was shifted. In this form, it was almost excusable. It was something that a lot of shifters seemed to understand. It was too easy to lose yourself to your instincts when shifted, it happened to everyone at some time or another. The best part about being a wolf, however, was that Nik felt so free. There was truly nothing like the feeling of running as fast as you could until you physically couldn’t run any longer. It was the power and strength that he felt when shifted that he lacked in his human body.
Nikita leapt over a fallen tree and hit the leaf riddled ground running. He wove in and around the many natural obstacles that the landscape provided. He would have kept running on until he collapsed however there was a blur of movement that caught his attention and he was suddenly on the trail of a rabbit. Immediately overtaken by blood lust, Nikita lunged for the small mammal, grasping its neck between his large jaws and snapping down, crushing its neck. He tasted the metallic blood on his tongue almost immediately as he slowed to a stop.
He knew, thankfully, that the rabbit hadn’t been a fellow shifter. Nik made a habit of reaching out to prey with his telepathic ability just to make sure there was no human conscience underneath all of the fur. He didn’t want to involuntarily slaughter someone if he could help it. The large, black wolf sat down and sniffed his fresh catch. He hadn’t really been hungry; he’d just gotten caught in the heat of the moment and killed the rabbit. However, it really would be a shame to let a perfectly good morsel go to waste. He was about to bite into the warm flesh when he heard something rustle the fallen leaves somewhere behind him. Nikita went tense and rigid. His lips pulled back and the fur on the back of his neck stood on end.
He didn’t being snuck up on.
