| come on, throw your hands up and pretend you wanna fight me |
as the colorless king, azar displays absolute power over his clansmen, who gained his recognition during his tenure in the abandoned prison, and without a doubt, he remains one of the cruelest and most vindictive individuals within the explored lands. he, however, creates various masks to show the world, displaying himself as he wants to be seen and secretly plotting the demise of everyone and everything.
ORIGIN | COLORLESS CLAN |
POSITION | KING |
AGE | THIRTY-ONE |
GENDER |  Male |
SEXUALITY | POLYSEXUAL |
STATUS | No Comment |
JOB(S) | PROFESSIONAL LIAR |
POSTS |  11 |
GEMS | |
♔ Posted on Jan 10, 2015 19:11:11 GMT -5 ♔
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 YOU KNOW IT'S GETTING BORING. the smell of smoke lingered in the air, surrounding the raven haired male, as he prowled through the foliage that existed upon his chosen refuge. blood covered his tattered clothing, staining the white fabric a crimson hue and leaving him with visible remnants of his latest activities, for yes, he decided to carve into the flesh of his latest prisoners. he rarely extended the naïve civilians the opportunity to survive, for they lacked the intelligence and cunning required to entertain him for an extended period of time. to be frank, his clansmen and his toy served as his preferred source of entertainment. violence and bloodshed and chaos granted him a reprieve from his otherwise monotonous existence as he lacked the patience to search for suitable playmates. pale hands appeared in his peripheral vision as he utilized his limbs to clear his way, pushing vegetation aside and stomping carelessly through the shrubs that attempted to hinder his progression through the forest. despite the island’s fairly limited space, the forest acted as a veritable maze, trapping people underneath the towering trees and constantly misleading them with false promises; however, azar recognized his surroundings with ease due to the years spent exploring the vast expanse of wildlife. he loathed the idea of someone utilizing his chosen headquarters against him, translating into his nearly obsessive exploration of the island. the blackette understood how to navigate the waters surrounding fehér and knew all of the entrances and secret passages in the abandoned prison. yes, the island belonged to him, and to an extent, the area was meant to be the converging point of the colorless clan. however, azar preferred to locate and interrogate his clansmen when they least expected him. no one bothered to venture to his island unless he extended an invitation to them. it was considered the ultimate taboo amongst his clansmen, who proved to be competent killers and liars. a hum escaped him as his hand flashed into his line of view for a second time. his movements ceased as his gaze shifted to focus on the pale appendage, eyes roving over the blood stained fingers and passing over invisible scars. another hum resounded through the trees and echoed in his mind as he shifted his weight, resuming his trek and listening intently for approaching dangers. unlike the kingdom of raduga, the island did not offer ample protection from the lurkers that existed within the shadows, for fehér could be considered an extension of the shadows. the monstrous strains attacked without discretion. azar continued plodding forward until he reached a break in the trees, halting within the shadows of the forest and watching to see if anyone or anything stepped into the nearly blinding sunlight. a crack sounded from his right, forcing him to turn his attention away from the clearing. apprehension settled over the male as tension riddled his frame, but as he shifted forward, he noticed movement from behind. he launched himself into the trees and watched as an enormous boar burst into the clearing, closely followed by his teal haired clansman. how strange, he mused in his mind as he observed the standstill between the lurker and islwyn. perhaps he should intervene. OOC TAGGED ISLWYN KAVANAGHWORD COUNT 533 NOTES tell me if i need to change anything. i just assumed islwyn would be chasing the lurker. MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS
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| I'll seek you out, flay you alive--one more word and you won't survive. |
When Islwyn was born, everyone thought he would carry on the wealth and prosperity of the Kavanagh family name. How wrong they were. For after killing his first crush in a fit of emotion, the aristocrat developed a taste for murder and a lust for blood. After being caught and imprisoned for his crimes, he joined the Colorless Clan, and escaped during their jailbreak. He now works as a mercenary, taking odd jobs. Not an easy one to befriend or ally, Islwyn can be somewhat unpredictable to deal with. ISLWYN KAVANAGH'S OVERVIEW
ORIGIN | COLORLESS CLAN |
POSITION | CLANSMAN |
AGE | Twenty-seven |
GENDER | Male |
SEXUALITY | Pansexual |
STATUS | Single |
JOB(S) | mercenary |
POSTS | 2 |
GEMS | |
♔ Posted on Jan 10, 2015 20:32:56 GMT -5 ♔
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A wave, an awesome wave, that rushes skin and widens in blooded veins; Tide out, tide in, a flood of blood to the heart and the fear slipstreams. Though there were established rules and laws, even here, among liars and thieves, Islwyn Kavanagh openly defied them just as he proudly stood counter against what was considered wholesome and correct by his family and established society. Simply because most people could not recognize the greatness for which he was destined, didn't mean that the fallen aristocrat wouldn't pursue it. Part of this destiny hinged on his innate thirst, something that would never be quenched, no matter how long he spent trying to satiate it. So when the desire flared deep in his chest, he heeded its call -- more than anything else it guided his seemingly random criminal career. He had been closest to his Clan's home stomping grounds when the call hit him, and so the ominous island subsequently took center stage as his current hunting grounds.
His booted feet thudded against the dank soil as he moved --practically slithered -- through thick and thin foliage alike. He was a man on a mission, and at the moment that meant making enough noise to attract attention. Often such would be viewed as a suicidal move, as most didn't seek out the aggressions of Lurkers, but in such a remote location as Fehér, there were no civilians to prey upon, only the raging Strains. And so he had ran, treading dangerous ground, until he ended up in the cross hairs of an enormous boar. Eyes narrowed, he admired the power in the creature's rippling frame for the brief moment before he deftly started maneuvering his way out of the way of the rampaging beast.
Such cat and mouse games were difficult in such crowded quarters, but the difficulty only made it more exciting for him and caused more adrenaline to surge through his system. It was moments like these that he felt truly alive, and for the moment he didn't even mind the minor scrapes he picked up along the way, the scent of his own blood only further fueling his want. Eventually, through the maze, prey became predator as Islwyn had maneuvered their chase so that he could chase the beast instead of being chased himself...His heart thumping excitedly as his quarry surged out into an open clearing...Finally giving him enough room to maneuver.
The beast paused in its movements, probably to catch its breath, tired from who-knows-how-long that they'd been running and that was when Islwyn made his move. Sliding forward, unsheathing one of his favorite dirks -- his rapier much too big for this business -- he broke into a run, and utilized the moistness of the ground to propel himself into a slide as he dropped to his knees. Blade brandished so he could sink it into the creatures belly and carve a jagged line as he slid beneath its girth. The resulting howling and thrashing prompted him to soon seek cover away from the thing's death throes, but not before being splattered with so much blood and various viscera as he narrowly avoided being squished underneath it's weight. A low growl, strangely tinged with the aristocratic lilt of his speaking voice, lulled from the lithe man as he rose to his full height, wiping some blood from his face and licking his fingers. coded by Mura of KXK
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| come on, throw your hands up and pretend you wanna fight me |
as the colorless king, azar displays absolute power over his clansmen, who gained his recognition during his tenure in the abandoned prison, and without a doubt, he remains one of the cruelest and most vindictive individuals within the explored lands. he, however, creates various masks to show the world, displaying himself as he wants to be seen and secretly plotting the demise of everyone and everything.
ORIGIN | COLORLESS CLAN |
POSITION | KING |
AGE | THIRTY-ONE |
GENDER | Male |
SEXUALITY | POLYSEXUAL |
STATUS | No Comment |
JOB(S) | PROFESSIONAL LIAR |
POSTS | 11 |
GEMS | |
♔ Posted on Jan 11, 2015 14:48:36 GMT -5 ♔
KEYS TO THE KINGDOM COPYRIGHT RESERVED
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YOU KNOW IT'S GETTING BORING. wayward pieces of bark pressed harshly against the palm of his hands as he hung from the branches of his chosen escape route. his action had not been calculated nor planned, for he merely launched himself away from the approaching danger, hinging his safety upon his ability to reach the branches that waved tauntingly above him. azar, however, expected to survive the encounter regardless of whether he successfully evaded the creature or not due to his honed combat skills. his instinctual response afforded him the opportunity to witness the prowess of his clansman due to his superior vantage point, which granted him the perfect view of the petite male’s battle with the untamed beast. his grip steadily slackened as his clansman sped toward the lurker, ducking under the impossible girth and shredding the skin and muscles with ease. the attack proceeded undeterred by the boar’s movements as if the teal haired male merely cut through butter, and islwyn showcased tremendous skill as he avoided being crushed by the carcass of the monstrous strain. an amused smirk surfaced upon azar’s pallid mien as his body began descending toward the leaf strewn ground. his feet collided with the uneven surface, sending a tinge of pain through his body; however, he ignored the sensation as he brushed his hands together, dislodging the pieces of vegetation that remained embedded in his palms. the raven haired mercenary never expected to witness his clansman hurtling after a lurker though he had previously hunted monstrous strains with the younger male in the past. each hunt reminded him that his clansman boasted of unprecedented skill in combat. during his stint in prison, azar carefully constructed his clan, building the colorless clan into a chaos mongering group of uncontested skill in questionable avenues of life. they represented a unit without morals as they could easily lower themselves to stealing the life of a child or to lying their way into a position of power. life proved to be a game to the colorless clan—or maybe not. the blackette never shoved his beliefs upon his clansmen, expecting them to form their own opinions and only requesting that they respect his desire for mayhem. with a shake of his head, azar began striding across the distance that separated him from his blood covered underling, and as the distance decreased, his hands rose from his side, palms connecting with one another in a mockery of an applause. the soft sound reverberated in his mind as he reached islwyn’s side. his half-hearted clapping ceased as his gaze roved over the bloody male though his smirk gained definition as he tipped his head to the side, eyes shifting toward the carcass of the deceased lurker. wonderful performance, the dark haired sociopath purred without any detectable prompting. are you satisfied with the… boar? one eyebrow arched as his smirk gained a feral undertone. or would you prefer to keep hunting?the invitation hovered in the air between them, dangling as bait for the teal haired mercenary. azar wanted to cure his own boredom, and with his unexpected collision with his clansman, he decided to employee the other’s skill for his benefit. hunting lurkers proved to be a pastime that they both enjoyed despite their differing goals; therefore, if islwyn accompanied him, the ravenette would be guaranteed an amusement riddled adventure through the forest of fehér. OOC TAGGED ISLWYN KAVANAGHWORD COUNT 561 NOTES haha. i did tell you to expect that response from him. MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS
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| I'll seek you out, flay you alive--one more word and you won't survive. |
When Islwyn was born, everyone thought he would carry on the wealth and prosperity of the Kavanagh family name. How wrong they were. For after killing his first crush in a fit of emotion, the aristocrat developed a taste for murder and a lust for blood. After being caught and imprisoned for his crimes, he joined the Colorless Clan, and escaped during their jailbreak. He now works as a mercenary, taking odd jobs. Not an easy one to befriend or ally, Islwyn can be somewhat unpredictable to deal with. ISLWYN KAVANAGH'S OVERVIEW
ORIGIN | COLORLESS CLAN |
POSITION | CLANSMAN |
AGE | Twenty-seven |
GENDER | Male |
SEXUALITY | Pansexual |
STATUS | Single |
JOB(S) | mercenary |
POSTS | 2 |
GEMS | |
♔ Posted on Jan 11, 2015 19:51:39 GMT -5 ♔
KEYS TO THE KINGDOM COPYRIGHT RESERVED
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A wave, an awesome wave, that rushes skin and widens in blooded veins; Tide out, tide in, a flood of blood to the heart and the fear slipstreams. After taking a few short moments to clean off a couple of his fingers, the teal-haired aristocrat shifted his weight from one foot to the other, pivoting his left hip to have better access to his nap sack. Withdrawing a couple of bottles, he sidled over to the creature's front, as it was much easier to arrange blood collection there from the throat. Yes, some of the liquid would be wasted, spilled into the earth from the disemboweling killing blow but...That was something Islwyn could live with. It wasn't like there was ever a shortage of monstrous strains for him to hunt -- that was why business was going so well. After he arranged his usual vitae-collecting system, the crude assembly of bottles wasn't pretty to look at but got the job done, something tugged at the edge of his senses. Suddenly aware of the sound of an approach, his slender stature turned, heels digging into the grass beneath him, one dirk held at the ready.
Islwyn found himself staring down the length of his blade at a familiar face. His green eyes narrowed slightly, in a muddy and unreadable mixture of acknowledgement and affectionate apprehension. For who knew what would happen when the Colorless King was around, but that was one of the reasons the sanguine count joined forces with him, as being a part of that group gave his life a certain zest. Otherwise...Things just became too easy. Feigning submission certainly gave him access to a wide variety of scenarios and tools that would otherwise be out of his grasp. Lowering his weapon shortly after recognition came and the applause started, an amused smirk crossed onto his pale features. Sheathing the dirk, his lithe frame bobbed slightly in an elegant bow, "Thank you, thank you," His aristocratic timbre lilted out with satisfaction.
Sharp eyes drifted to the carcass near them, before returning to the other criminal before him. His smirk skewed into a strange, lopsided smile. "It will take some time for the draining process to finish...So..." He gave a kind of flick of his head to indicate unspoken agreement, his attention drifting around as he debating the trails he passed. "There was more activity north of here, hm..." Digging through his bag, he lulled out an oddly melodic laugh, "I'm going to need to acquire more bottles..." AZAR LUSKI ♦ i'm already loving their bizarre friendship-thing @w@ coded by Mura of KXK
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