Post by Ὀδύσσεια♐ on Jan 22, 2015 3:37:05 GMT -5
ROSK
NICKNAME(S): Ro, Rosko
PRONUNCIATION: Exactly how it sounds.
POSITION: Free-roamer
BASICS
AGE: 5 Years
GENDER: Male
BREED: Dhole
HEIGHT: 21"
APPEARANCE:
Short with a fine balance between lean and somewhat stout, when one first looks upon Rosk they might not be all that intimidated or impressed. He's one of the smallest canids you'll find in Ravensbruck even if he is on the larger spectrum for a Dhole. He is covered in a fairly short coat of rusted reds atop, with creamy whites to underline his jaw, neck, chest and rolling down the legs. Besides large ears his tail is the fluffiest thing you'll find on this guy and is painted mostly in black. This same dark shade also coats much of his muzzle which stretches up to amber eyes that are often in something of a scowl. Indeed, they reflect his usual mask of contempt quite well. Perhaps at second glance one might think twice of trying to cross him with the sour look on his face but otherwise, he's no match for the larger inhabitants of these lands. Quicker on well-proportioned paws, perhaps, but brute strength would not be his forte.
PERSONALITY
Certain events can drastically alter someone's inner character and there are perhaps few better examples of this than Rosk. Where once his life was relatively complicated, busy yet pleasant, unfortunate circumstances have transformed a once outgoing and boundingly joyous individual into an abrasive and reclusive snake. He is but a ghost of his former self and looks upon the world with disdain; glass half empty, kill half gone, something out to get him. Where once he was a dreamer, a helper, concerned, this has faded into a cracked shell now harboring contempt and spite for just about anyone unfortunate to cross his path, especially those larger than him. While he is not inherently prone to violence, he isn't beyond knowing what must be done. Once upon a time he might not have dared step on a paw. Now, he has few qualms about anything it takes to survive. There comes a certain point where one must pull their heads from the clouds and realize the harshness of the world and for Rosk, it hit hard enough to influence him severely. He has formed into something wily, resourceful, perceptive of others and bitter towards them. He is now considers himself a realist, far from the puppy dreams of yesteryear. He cares not for thriving, only living, though some days he questions why. Perhaps it's simply that instinct to survive, for as much sorrow harbored and the dislike he has for the others of the world Rosk is nothing if not a survivor, driven by that longing to breath like everyone else.
FATHER: Simpra
MOTHER: Espin
SIBLINGS: Zola [f], Uri [m], Tiago [m], Samara [f]
HISTORY
Rosk's very early years are not anything to gloat about, yet nothing to complain about either. Unlike many of his type and size his family was not victimized nor enslaved by the larger wolves of the world. They were different, they knew it, and they were exceptionally skilled at avoiding the monsters out there. His mother was perhaps the most clever, uplifting individual he knew and someone he now looks back upon with fondness in his darkest days. His father was a good provider, dedicated, if a bit indifferent to his offspring. But tucked away in some hidden place in some forgotten corner of Ravensbruck, Rosk and his siblings thrived.
He was just under a year old when he fledged from the nest, and he was just under two years when he met the one that would shatter his heart not so long after. Edra was a cunning, sweet Dhole with a bright outlook on life and shining eyes. At the time easily influenced, Rosk followed her with affection that easily bloomed. It was plain to see she harbored the same for him and the two lost themselves in each other, swept up in their young love. She had a good effect on him; teaching him commitment and the joy of the world, though he'd always been eager for his own family and nothing of a rebel.
He was three when their first and last litter was born. He was three and a half when they were taken from the earth. If Rosk had known a simple hunt would dictate the fate of his family he would never have left that morning. It's still easy to remember the larger wolves, circling endlessly around the den, diving in to tear it apart before he could do anything to save them. The slavers wanted to see what was inside, if they'd be easy pickings for the auktion. Edra and their five pups were in there, Edra defending them with her life, alone like a great heroine It was something that ultimately provoked them beyond theft until they'd left her and the little ones to their doom. It had happened so quickly that Rosk still wonders how his brief, frozen moment of shock could end so disastrously. They'd left him there, too amused with themselves and what they'd done to bother with him, tossing racial slurs and "useless" as they disappeared. Perhaps Edra's great defense had discouraged them enough to save her mate.
It took a great time for the mourning father to pull himself from the great chasm threatening to swallow him, though he's yet to come to terms with the events or rise fully from the ashes. He'd once thought the world a grand place of wonder and though he can still marvel at the beauty of the wilds, it's far easier to remember the darkness in it. He's remained mostly by himself since, somehow finding the life of solitude not as simple he would wish it to be for he'd always had and perhaps still longed for companionship, but not daring to leave it. He knows what happened to his family is not the fault of everyone, yet he finds it difficult to look upon anyone without animosity, loathing, distrust. Each day is easier than the last and he does what he can to survive, perhaps if only to keep the memory of Edra and their offspring alive. He does not wallow in his own self pity for he cried too long and hard. And when he picked himself up off the ground he realized the world wasn't any kinder for it. No, his depression may harbor guilt but he long since realized there was nothing to be done now. Nothing to bring them back. Now he merely observes the world cast in a new light.