05-16-2019, 04:31 PM
CHEMICAL WARFARE
THE TYPHOON - MALE - 19 MONTHS - MELANISTIC JAGUAR WITH GOLD HOOP EARING
So much had changed in such a short time. Chem was lucky that he had a strong ability to adapt on his side, but that didn't mean he didn't notice how much was different from how it had been. The familiarity of everything he knew was long gone, after all, but that was his own doing. He'd travelled so long and far that he couldn't recognize anything, not the people around him, the territories that covered the landscape, or the clans that owned said territories. It was like starting over completely which was exactly what the jaguar had wanted. Before, he never even would have considered leaving his home. From the people to the very ground he'd walked on, there'd been a part of him that worshipped it all, a part of him that was as loyal to it as any dog to their master. It had brought him happiness and satisfaction serving his old clan, but.... was there really a clan left to serve now? He couldn't answer that question. If there was a clan there it wasn't the one he'd known so long ago and the people that were there weren't the ones he'd grown so fond of. So what use had their been staying in a place like that? He knew when to call it quits, and now was the time for a new chapter in his life.
In this new region of the world, the Typhoon was where he'd decided to call his home. Chem wasn't the sort of person who took pleasure in things like torture and wouldn't really consider himself 'evil', but he wasn't 'good' either and the fact remained that he was still more of an antagonist than a protagonist. He liked having friends and living an active lifestyle and he was charismatic enough to accomplish the first and fit enough to do the latter, so life was usually good for Chem. He could never live a peaceful life though. When it all came down to the bottom line, he believed that the strong would inherit the earth. Those who weren't afraid to embrace and use the power they had would ultimately be the ones to rise to the top and Chemical had always sought to be among them. He wanted the ability to influence and change things, and you could never truly do that if you weren't willing to break a few eggs. Besides, he liked to fight. It was never anything personal or ruthless on his part, but he thrived on the controlled chaos of a raid, or the thrill of a patrol as they pillaged a village. Maybe that made a part of him sick, but he didn't really care what others thought about him. He'd protect the people he cared about with his life and would do the things he found to his liking.
The Typhoon seemed like a place that could offer him those things, and while the group was smaller than he'd hoped it's potential was still as clear as day to him. Everything about the group was something he could get right on board with - boat pun intended- but there was one aspect he was admittedly having trouble with. All the water. Dont get him wrong. Chem had spent much of his time swimming in the oasis's cool waters back in his old desert home, and had even spent a good chunk of time fishing off the coast of large rivers and lakes. Water wasn't something he feared or avoided. And yet, the ocean unnerved him greatly. He enjoyed the shallows well enough if he was honest. The clear waters with their coral reefs and colorful fish, even the seals and smaller sharks that coasted through them on occasion were all welcome sights to the scarred up young male. And yet, whenever he peered out at the horizon where the endless blue of the ocean and sky met it made his stomach twist with uneasiness. The underground viewing area that acted as part of their camp offered even less to him, it's great glass viewing window overlooking a deeper part of the bay where the clear waters played host to uglier things like great whites, which he'd found he hated looking at or being around. Something about their dead eyes and gaping mouths was just gross to him. Thus, more often than not he'd find himself on the beach of Barricuda Bay, lounging in a hammock he'd become quite found of while lounging in the sun.
That day though he'd found he needed a touch of dry land. He missed the smell of fresh air and the feeling of land surrounding him, and so he'd left the island and returned to the shore. He knew he would return. While it was taking some getting used to the melanistic feline, with his off black coat and prominent, inky spots, knew he enjoyed it there more than he would any of the other groups, so staying ashore just wasn't a possibility. He had to give it a fair shot before throwing in the towel. This was just a refresher, a chance to say good bye properly. He hadn't had much of a destination in mind when he'd reached the neutrals grounds and begun walking, but eventually the large feline found himself on the edge of a treeline overlook a sizeable clearing. The grass he was a ripe green and wildflowers grew wherever they pleased, a small stream trickling through it. His tongue touched his lips as he realized he was thirsty, and made his way over to drink from the cool running waters.
[member=6]HELLBENT[/member]
"SPEECH
THE TYPHOON - MALE - 19 MONTHS - MELANISTIC JAGUAR WITH GOLD HOOP EARING
So much had changed in such a short time. Chem was lucky that he had a strong ability to adapt on his side, but that didn't mean he didn't notice how much was different from how it had been. The familiarity of everything he knew was long gone, after all, but that was his own doing. He'd travelled so long and far that he couldn't recognize anything, not the people around him, the territories that covered the landscape, or the clans that owned said territories. It was like starting over completely which was exactly what the jaguar had wanted. Before, he never even would have considered leaving his home. From the people to the very ground he'd walked on, there'd been a part of him that worshipped it all, a part of him that was as loyal to it as any dog to their master. It had brought him happiness and satisfaction serving his old clan, but.... was there really a clan left to serve now? He couldn't answer that question. If there was a clan there it wasn't the one he'd known so long ago and the people that were there weren't the ones he'd grown so fond of. So what use had their been staying in a place like that? He knew when to call it quits, and now was the time for a new chapter in his life.
In this new region of the world, the Typhoon was where he'd decided to call his home. Chem wasn't the sort of person who took pleasure in things like torture and wouldn't really consider himself 'evil', but he wasn't 'good' either and the fact remained that he was still more of an antagonist than a protagonist. He liked having friends and living an active lifestyle and he was charismatic enough to accomplish the first and fit enough to do the latter, so life was usually good for Chem. He could never live a peaceful life though. When it all came down to the bottom line, he believed that the strong would inherit the earth. Those who weren't afraid to embrace and use the power they had would ultimately be the ones to rise to the top and Chemical had always sought to be among them. He wanted the ability to influence and change things, and you could never truly do that if you weren't willing to break a few eggs. Besides, he liked to fight. It was never anything personal or ruthless on his part, but he thrived on the controlled chaos of a raid, or the thrill of a patrol as they pillaged a village. Maybe that made a part of him sick, but he didn't really care what others thought about him. He'd protect the people he cared about with his life and would do the things he found to his liking.
The Typhoon seemed like a place that could offer him those things, and while the group was smaller than he'd hoped it's potential was still as clear as day to him. Everything about the group was something he could get right on board with - boat pun intended- but there was one aspect he was admittedly having trouble with. All the water. Dont get him wrong. Chem had spent much of his time swimming in the oasis's cool waters back in his old desert home, and had even spent a good chunk of time fishing off the coast of large rivers and lakes. Water wasn't something he feared or avoided. And yet, the ocean unnerved him greatly. He enjoyed the shallows well enough if he was honest. The clear waters with their coral reefs and colorful fish, even the seals and smaller sharks that coasted through them on occasion were all welcome sights to the scarred up young male. And yet, whenever he peered out at the horizon where the endless blue of the ocean and sky met it made his stomach twist with uneasiness. The underground viewing area that acted as part of their camp offered even less to him, it's great glass viewing window overlooking a deeper part of the bay where the clear waters played host to uglier things like great whites, which he'd found he hated looking at or being around. Something about their dead eyes and gaping mouths was just gross to him. Thus, more often than not he'd find himself on the beach of Barricuda Bay, lounging in a hammock he'd become quite found of while lounging in the sun.
That day though he'd found he needed a touch of dry land. He missed the smell of fresh air and the feeling of land surrounding him, and so he'd left the island and returned to the shore. He knew he would return. While it was taking some getting used to the melanistic feline, with his off black coat and prominent, inky spots, knew he enjoyed it there more than he would any of the other groups, so staying ashore just wasn't a possibility. He had to give it a fair shot before throwing in the towel. This was just a refresher, a chance to say good bye properly. He hadn't had much of a destination in mind when he'd reached the neutrals grounds and begun walking, but eventually the large feline found himself on the edge of a treeline overlook a sizeable clearing. The grass he was a ripe green and wildflowers grew wherever they pleased, a small stream trickling through it. His tongue touched his lips as he realized he was thirsty, and made his way over to drink from the cool running waters.
[member=6]HELLBENT[/member]
"SPEECH
[size=9pt]
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Fourthwall Fallout - Charcoal/Maroon Brindle Hellhound - 22 Months - The Pitt
Click names for tags
Fourthwall Fallout - Charcoal/Maroon Brindle Hellhound - 22 Months - The Pitt