Basic Stats

Name: Antonin Chereshovo AKA Dominic Chereshovo

Gender: Male

Race/Type/Job? Lycanthrope - Wolf

Affiliation: Pack

Age: 289 years of age. [Age is explained through Personality. And no, I will not be taking advantage of said age by bullying those much younger and inexperienced.]

Relationship Status: Divorced. Unmated.

Personality: Loyalty, Steadfastness, Pride, and Love for one's people.. All good qualities for an Alpha. Or at least, this is what the Euro Pack had decided on for Dom when they'd come to him and put the offer on the proverbial plate before him. Apparently it was an unanimous decision that Dom would be a good candidate to lead the Las Vegas Pack in their Time of Need. The Death rate was appalling, and with that sudden surge of his Protective streak, Dom agreed to cross the world to reach his steady and strong hand out to those Canines in both Pack and Rogue alike. He'd grown up a savage amidst the royalty of the world in Europe, spent a majority of his time with the Down and Out of that culture and ilk. He felt extremely comfortable with the Rogues of the Lycanthrope communities. More so than with the Pack, but even the Pack in all their Aristocratic Glory had rubbed off on him.

He cleaned up well for Old Money, but often has the tendency to fall back into his wild ways. Once a Brawler, Always a Brawler. But on his thoughts of moving to America, a country he'd only been to maybe four times in the last twenty years.. And the fact that people and vampires alike.. were hunting them down with biological weapons and hazardous materials. It struck him to the core, brought out a vicious snarl from his dark lips with an agreement to bring safety to the Canines of Las Vegas. And what of the Felines? Be they Rogue or Pride.. In his mind, he knew he'd had it out with Felines in his long and extensive past.. But to ensure their safety as well? Truth be told, he was more likely to side with the Rogue Canines than with the Pride of Felines.. But Dom had a heart of gold beneath that onyx exterior, and he could never turn anyone away who genuinely needed the saving.

But Vampires? The mere mention of them made his blood run cold with a long ingrained hatred, an emotion for one singular race that could never be erased from his psyche. Around such creatures, would the savage truly emerge and the beast come tumbling out to wreak havoc on their kind. No matter how stoic Dominic could be, even those vampires made his emotional walls crumble and that fiery heat blaze up and that hatred run icy cold. What could you expect from one sold into slavery for them for years and years? Through the torture at their merciless hands, even after the pact was made between the Lycans and them.. That Hatred would burn throughout his own Legacy, that is.. if he could ever settle for one singular woman. All in all.. Dominic was sure he could lead this Pack with a sure hand.. But they would have to be warned. Though he was hip to the new world and new times, he had traditions burned within him. And one thing was for sure.. He was not afraid to rule. For King and Country, and while he was no King.. the metaphor is alike in the sense that he would be Alpha in every sense of the word. And they would follow.




Physical Stats Animal Description: It is an amazing sight indeed, to see a man of 6'9" and roughly 240 pounds in the human flesh.. To watch him change and flow into the shape of the canid lupus. The bones that reform, crackling like a foot stepping upon dry twigs in the dense forest. They reshape from the manly bulk to become home to fur and claws and fangs. Fur of the darkness that has been sprinkled with snow beneath the downy blackness, paws that do not shake the earth from such bulk. Indeed, the body is leaner than usual for quick and agile movement. And the eyes that watch you, sparkling silver of the Moon herself. It is no wonder he is named Skysong, for Luna has doted upon those eyes and given him a Song to shake the Heavens with.
Description: As you watch the flow of fur reversing the reshaping process, keeping your glittering eyes attatched to the form flowing and cracking beneath that massive structure of wolven body coated in ebony fur with that spattering of stars beneath the downy fur.. You watch as flesh forms, taut still over finely shaped muscles and sinew. The flesh dazzles beneath the eye of the sun in which first appears to be a shade so dark it holds no colors.. But every color, which is a paradox. But as the sun shifts over the beast turning man again, you see a fine play of midnight blue and royal purple beneath the black that is his flesh.

Your eyes hold onto the wide expanse of those massive shoulders, trying to take in the sheer size of him roiling beneath all of that dark flesh. He turns his head to gaze upon you from over the right shoulder and you get a glimpse of those unnaturally dark eyes that burn with a fire that has long since smouldered to a simmer. Such a scowl he wears upon his full lips, until he gives you a knowing smirk and causes your cheeks to burn such crimson flames. That smile pushes up and accentuates those exotic cheekbones, and you notice not a shred of hair resides upon his head nor his jaw. Such fine and articulate structure in that face, as if he'd been carved from pure jet.

Lower your eyes from that devilish grin, winding your way back down to find that his body is lean where it should be and muscular in all the right places. The clothing he slides upon his body with complete leisure allows you to find and point out various tattoos and battle scars from eons past. One such scar runs the length from the nape of his neck to the very tip of his spinal column where the Master Vampire had tried to cut loose his beast to see if it would be released before He could shift. A test of wills, if you wish. The clothing he pulls over his lean hips are a pair of camo cargo shorts, and the shirt he pulls over his muscular torso is a grey wife beater. The colors set off his skin tones, but all in all.. You can tell he would clean up just as beautifully in an Georgio Armani suit complete with the winged loafers.

With the last of his reverse transformation complete, he still remains slightly slouched until he turns and towers above you. It is hard to get a real grasp on his true height, but somehow you can tell he runs close to 6 feet and 9 inches when he straightens his spine and squares his shoulders. And while that body runs hard to the eye, he lifts one of his giant hands and gently cups your cheek. And in that one touch, he is not so much a Monster anymore.. But only a man with centuries of strife, and more than enough time to learn what it is to be gentle when need be.



Avatar: Tyrese Gibson

Height: 6 Feet and 9 Inches.

Build: Muscular/Athletic.

Hair: Black, Bald.

Eyes: Slightly slanted, and Obsidian in hue.

Other: Piercings: Silver rings in both lobes.
Tattoos: None.
Birthmarks: None.
Scars: A plenty. Dominic has lost count of each and every scar he's recieved over the years.

General Appearance: For one that has been through both the poor and rich crowds in his entire existence, Dominic usually switches up between casual and ritsy attire depending upon his mood and where he may be headed for the evening. Loafers and slacks one night, Sneakers and jeans the next.

Equipment & Skills: Being that Dom is a pretty practical man, he likes his weapons to be no nonsense and so sticks with the Glock 31 .357 to fit better in his large hands and get the job done quick when Claws, Body Weight and Force won't work. For up close and personal jobs, he might slip out a switchblade for the fleshy areas to wound. But when it's a killing shot needed in a hurry, the G 31 is his best friend. However, beneath the passenger seat of his car he keeps a Browning Citori 525 Sporting and an assortment of other blades for easier access. Is that practical enough? He thinks so.



Biography

History: [Most of Dom's history was explained through personality and such. I'll do the best I can on the rest.]
Las Vegas had failed miserably, His pack scattered to the winds and the loss and shame hanging clear as the noon day sun over his weary head. Too old to return to Europe and face the Council there, he'd headed out of the West with no intentions on heading a Pack again. Still, the call and pull of companionship was pulling at him. And the odd jobs around the US were simply not satiating to the old canine. Though the age was surely felt in his psyche, it wasn't to be seen in his physique. Spry enough to continue on servicing where he could, Dominic searched with vain hopes of settling into a new Pack as a personal Guard without the worries of running anything.
As though he could think it easy to feign blindness, Dominic stumbled as blindly as he could to the East Coast. With a serious need for a rest, Dom found himself in a city in dire need of assistance. In one night, he witnessed crime after crime take place. And what cops to stop the madness but one? With a fire beginning to become rekindled within his tightened chest, Dominic feels for this city and its unknowing inhabitants. Here he shall stretch out his hand, Here he shall aid those in need. Here he shall make a new home, and a new life with a new purpose. The wool has been lifted from his eyes, and he sees now that all is not lost. But Fate merely took a turn at spinning the wheel in his direction. Here he will not merely be considered a bump in the night, Here.. He will protect those in fear of it.


Sample Roleplay Taken from a forum I run on the side. Character name is Cephira Crane.
The sound of the howl pierced through her sensitive ears, nearly causing her to wreck her car as she screeched to a halt in the midst of midnight traffic. Several horns bleated their agitation at her, to which she replied nothing in return. Cephira knew that voice, the pain mixed in it was one she knew all too well. Djali Katteo, her younger cousin. Cephira opened her car door, ignoring the blatant curses thrown her way as cars passed in the middle of the intersection. She stood up and out, pulling her sleek black hair from her right ear to tip her face and concentrate on just where the reverberating howl had come from. Whomever had caused the pain in Djali's voice would die.

Though Cephira held no official rank in the Clan, she sometimes assumed the responsibility of Bolverk: The Destroyer. She needed no Rank, as old and respected as she was.. Technically she could have been an Elder, but fuck that. She was a very spry canine with possibly another thousand years to keep fucking people up. Silently, she slid back into her Tiburon and threw the car into gear. The tires smoked, squealing with either excitement or apprehension.. She knew not which, and frankly didn't give a god damned fuck. Pealing off through the darkened streets, it was a matter of moments before her eye caught sight of two hunkered beings near Valhalla's entrance. Both in full pelt. Her nostrils flared angrily, her aura flashing white with a sheen of crimson around the edges.

Djali had just finished her second mournful howl when Cephira parked the vehicle but left it running, the door open as she shot out of the car and settled her golden flecked black iris upon the two. The two canines would instantly see Cephira's aura flashing with that white hot anger, and though Winter knew nothing of the Black Moon Clan.. The rogue canine would know whom Cephira Crane was. Every being in Chicago knew of Cephira Crane, and if not every being feared her.. They respected her for who she was. She was not to be trifled with. Cephira clipped Djali's call short with a response of her own, full human lips formed to call out to those whomever might respond with a howl that said NOT to respond. She was on the scene, She would take care of it.

She ended the howl with a snarl in the Rogue's direction, flashing bared lengthening canines her way. Cephira approached the two, noticing the submissive stance from the rogue female. She turned her attention to Djali, rage written in the depths of Cephira's form. How could Djali even remotely bring an outsider to the outland areas of Valhalla? Her chest tightened, torn inside but said not a word as she assessed the damage done to her cousin. Turning her eye to the rogue, she felt her lip twitch as she leaned into the fur of Djali's body and murmured words of comfort though she knew her fair cousin could hear none of them. Djali would feel the vibrations, however, and feel comfort. Cephira's fingertips searched thoroughly through Djali's fur until she'd found every broken bone.

They were healing already, but even though lycanthropes healed rapidly.. it didn't mean it still didn't hurt. Continuing the thorough search until finished, she turned from Djali with a soft heartfelt kiss to her snout and looked upon this rogue canine. She stalked towards her and eyed the brilliant white pelt. Cephira herself was dressed in tight fitting bootcut jeans and a simple fitted black work tee with the logo for Sins of the Swamp emblazoned on the back and right breast. She'd left the eye patch on for the night, and her hair.. the string tied effectively beneath the thick mass of ebony. Placing her boot heels firmly in the damp earth, she fought her first instincts to kill the rogue.. But the rogue had assisted her family, and there was honor to be had in that. Fenrir was not going to be happy, and most likely.. Cephira would take the lashings afterwards for what she was about to do.

"I don't know how you've lasted this long as a Rogue, but for the honor you've given my family.." She snorted lightly, "Fenrir will be the Judge and the Jury, but my protection is offered to you Rogue with the Winter Pelt. Follow us closely, do not stray." Cephira knew Fenrir would seriously hurt her, but Fenrir also knew Cephira would thoroughly enjoy the 'punishment' regardless. Punishments with Cephira were futile and pointless, but she would accept it however he deemed it worthy. She was looking forward to it. With a smirk, she came back to Djali and signed 'She's coming in with us, the punishment will be mine. Say not a word of it to any or you will hurt worse for it later, Cousin.' Her eye turned to the Winter pelted wolf and nodded her head and into the Clan lands they went.



Player Stats

Name: Jenna
Gender: Femme
Age: 24
Contact Info: Yahoo messenger = vulgar_jen
Email = h.eartsong@yahoo.com
Or you can send me a message here on the forum. I rarely use AIM, but if needed. I shall.

I, JENNAFUR! , attest that by posting this application I am stating that I have read and understand the rules. By signing this application I am aware that I will be expected to follow those rules and if I do not I will be banned from this community without warning.