Terra Lost

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Terra Lost

Post by Miguel »

Background: This RP's plot takes place in an alternate universe where mankind has basically destroyed everything it has on the surface of Earth. Instead, mutated creatures and irradiated human survivors (demons) have taken over the planet's former cities, and, for the most part, have gone completely feral. The few million humans that still live thrive in extremely sophisticated space stations that surviving governments managed to throw together in the course of a couple decades. The stations conduct themselves much like cities, but, like all cities, they have their faults. A new problem has formed. The stations are falling apart. Returning to the surface will be the only logical conclusion if mankind is to survive. Of course, in the chaos, non-humans(werewolves, werecats ect.) are able to live among the stations' inhabitants, and, chances are, they want to return to Earth just as much.

Character Sheet:

Name: Artiem "Vox" Vestera
Age: 24
Station: OS Anorium (Age: 37 years)
Height: 6'3"
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Brown
Race: Human

Appearance: Artiem keeps himself in suprisingly good condition for where he lives and works. The lower decks of the OS Anorium prove to be a mostly hostile and messy place where there is little to no station law enforcement. Like most of the people on his level, he handles station repairs, so his clothes, a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans, are mostly covered in tears and oil stains. His brown hair is slightly messy, but, for the most part, better than the hair of those around him. Scars cover his hands and arms, and, the few scars that are on his face are hidden by the stubble of his beard. A 9mm pistol is always attached to his belt, mostly for protection, alongside a wrench that he uses to repair faulty station pipes. His mechanic's boots are mostly worn, but have held up for the seven years of their use.

Personality: Despite where he lives, Artiem is a sympethetic individual. Usually, he will do what he thinks is right and usually only turns to hostility when threatened. He doesn't remember his parents well enough to recall any form of guidance, so most of what he has learned has been learned from those around him.

...

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Re: Terra Lost

Post by DWDruid »

Name: Officer Leon Skoll
Age: 25
Station: OS Anorium
Height: 6' 7''
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Amber
Race: Werecat (Tiger)

Background: Growning up in reasonably good conditions among the lower-middle class in the middle levels of the Os Anorium, Leon had lived a fairly simple childhood. His father was a single parent who despite being a judge with a busy lifestyle, gave Leon everything he needed while growing and spent as much time with him as possible. He taught him the values of justice and how important it was to have strong morals for everyday life. When Leon was 17 years old, his father was assassinated by a lower deck gang when he wouldn't let them pay him off. Because of all the good work his father did, Leon was given two choices for his future, enroll in the police academy or join the space marines. REmembering his father's words to live by "Justice, never revenge" he became the youngest student of the police academy. He then joined the force on his 21st birthday and has since produced great results for Os Anorium. His relentless quest for justice has earned him high friends as well as powerful enemies.

Appearance: His life among the police force has left Leon with a very strong but not overly muscular build. His shoulder length hair is typically tied down back when he's not wearing his standard issue police helm. When not doning his black uniform, Leon's casual clothes consit of ragged blue jeans, simple t-shirts, and a hat.

Personality: When on duty, Leon becomes a tough-but-fair character. His sense of justice is strong and unwavering but is a little black-and-white. From murderers to petty theives he believes that everyone who breaks the law is a criminal and deserves punishment. In his normal life, Leon tries to stay quite and mysterious so to not be caught by the many enemies he's made in his career. Along with his sense of justice his other greatest trait is his compassion for safety of innocent lives.
"Wolves, when you get down to it, are a lot like us.
They are powerful, aggressive, territorial, and predatory.
They are smart, curious, cooperative, loyal, and adaptable.
They exert a profound influence on the ecosytems they inhabit."
"Wolf Wars"
-National Geographic March 2010

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Re: Terra Lost

Post by Miguel »

In all of its strangeness, there is a sense of comfort in the place that we 20,000 people call home, but I don't know exactly why. Maybe it's because it's all I've ever known and the people around me are the same people I've grown up with and, some of which, I've seen die. Those that do die, I don't feel bad about their death; they're free from the disastrous reality we've created for ourselves. They're free from the burdens of a dying species...our species.

I have heard stories of the other stations, about the ones that hold as many as a hundred-thousand people, and I wonder if life in those stations is much like the life we live here, on Anorium. Of course, I have never seen such stations, but I have always wanted to. They are the life-force of our dying species, the very foundation of what holds us together; in a way, they are utopias, at least compared to my own home-station. They keep Anorium alive in all of its chaos and corruption.

Really, though, Anorium isn't all bad, as long as you play the cards right; you'll stay alive as long as you know where and where not to be. As fate happens to be, I live in the worst of all the station's levels, but such a lifestyle comes with benefits. The upper-class folks on the top levels don't bother us with their stuck-up security. We can do what we want, when we want, as long as the wrong person doesn't catch sight of it. Yet there isn't that much you can do on a station, so a lot of us don't really do anything outside of the occasional outer-station trade, which, really, can't get a person more than a few days in the station's prison.

Today, I've been assigned the typical job of fixing up any loose pipes or faulty floor grates, which, in recent months, has been increasingly problematic. Anorium's still young, about 37 years old, but, apparently, it was derived from one of the bigger stations about thirty seven years ago. In other words, it's all of the stuff that the big station didn't want. A time bomb, some of us call it, waiting to break apart.

The particular pipe I'm repairing isn't far from Hangar 7, some secretive vehicle bay that the station's government uses to transport goods to other stations. Rumor has it that the government is planning on sending a group of colonists down to Earth, to the surface. If that's true, that will be the fifth time in the past two months. Whatever they're up to, it's supposed to be "hush-hush". Really, I wouldn't mind joining them, but apparently you have to be a part of some sort of group that's located on the upper floors. Even getting access to those floors is near impossible. A person needs an ID card or something.

The corridor I'm in isn't particularly popular by the rest of those that live down here, but at its end resides a lounge called Orion's, a cliche name if I've ever heard one. I've been inside it once or twice and I know there isn't a whole lot to do there besides drink and chat it up with the locals, but, in the end, anything beats working on a pipe that'll probably just break again. So I head towards the dirt-hole, down the mostly abandoned corridor of red and blue wall-lights.

The lounge itself isn't particularly pretty in appearance. One of its windows doesn't even exist anymore, appearing to have been shattered by someone in a brawl; in its place is a piece of plywood that was probably salvaged from someone's home. Above the door flickers a neon light, a rarity in the lower levels. Anything that flashes is automatically considered annoying and in need of being discontinued according to the locals. I move inside the lounge and seat myself at a nearby table, close to a group of drunken workers.

Staring at the nearby static filled TV, I speak, hoping to get a response from any of the lounge's customers, "So, does anyone know exactly what's going on over at Hangar 7?"

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Re: Terra Lost

Post by DWDruid »

BZZZT!!BZZZT!!BZZT!!BZZ SMACK!

Still groggy and half-blind, I tried to look at my bedside alarm clock. There was another large dent around it's OFF button where I had hit it. It was slightly more battered but it still worked. Good, that meant I wouldn't have to pay for yet another one. Finally lifting myself from my bed, I shuffled my way over to the shower directly connecting to my bedroom. Turning the water on full heat, I gasped feeling the suddennd nearly boiling water transending down in my fur. The shock did wonders for waking me up. As I finished bathing and began drying myself off, I looked around my small apartment that has been my home for the last 4 years. The apartment was typical for an officer of my position, little but comfortable, with three rooms, a living room/kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. It wasn't much, but I didn't need anything more.

After toweling off, I check my communicator for today's assignment. It seemed the Cheif wanted me to patrol one of the lower level today, especialy around Hanger 7. Although no additional information was given, I had heard that something was planning to go down there. Not wantng to upset the Cheif, I quickly changed into my Patrol Uniform and made my way to an elevator that would go down as far as Hanger 7.
"Wolves, when you get down to it, are a lot like us.
They are powerful, aggressive, territorial, and predatory.
They are smart, curious, cooperative, loyal, and adaptable.
They exert a profound influence on the ecosytems they inhabit."
"Wolf Wars"
-National Geographic March 2010

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Re: Terra Lost

Post by Miguel »

There is a feeling of alienation accompanying the words I have spoken; the eyes of all the locals around me are suddenly glaring upon me with such hatred that I no longer feel as if I am part of this place, as if the station is no longer my home. Somehow, the mentioning of such a place has surfaced something within the very souls of those around me, but I'm not sure what that something is. Some of them have eyes of such flaming hatred that the only thing I wish to do is leave, or, better yet, wipe this moment from the existance of time. My eyes fall upon the static-filled TV screen once more, and over and over I watch the same series of PSA clips thinking that the other peoples' eyes will stop watching me.

"So, you're one of 'em?" one of the drunken workers speaks with as much hatred as that which resides in his eyes. "Only one of 'em would give a damn about anything going on over there."
My eyes fall upon him and I respond, "I'm sorry?"
"You know 'xactly what I'm talking 'bout, you filthy dog!" the drunken man continues, standing up and stepping towards me.
I smirk and speak, "I'm not anything, friend. You must have me mistaken for someone else. You should go back and drink some more. Forget about this."
"No, I know 'xactly who you work for, spy!" he screams, slamming his hands on the surface of the table beside me. "You and your little corporate brothers and sisters think you can just wander down here and recruit more of us to send on 'nother one of your suicide missions!"
I stand up, more than ready enough to leave the lounge, and then I reply, "I don't work for them, friend. I live here, like you. I was curious, that's all. Whatever missions you're talking about, I don't know anything about."
"So now you try and cover it up! See folks?!" He looks to his group of drunkards, laughing. "This one don't even want to admit it! At least the one 'fore him had the guts to say who he worked for!"

The man isn't much bigger than myself, but he's definately older, at least by ten years. I haven't seen him before now, and, in a way, I'm happy about it. He's one of the individuals that has spent too much time on the station, or at least too much time in the wrong parts of the station. I don't doubt that he's killed a few people and stolen a few things. He's the trash of the Anorium, the stuff that the upper-floor folks try so hard to get rid of. His clothes say it all. In the confines of our few thousand feet of breathing room, he's managed to associate himself with a gang; any security unit would dream of putting a bullet in him.

Yet I know he's not all talk. On his hip resides a beautiful silver blade holstered in a leather pouch. Somehow, he's dangerous. Making this one too mad will make him turn to violence, and so will his claque at the bar. Leaving will be my best alternative, if possible. The way he has said "the one 'fore" makes me feel as though "The one" didn't get out alive.

"I'm leaving now," I speak towards the now stooping man.
"Like hell you are!" he barks. "You think I'm jus' gon' let you run back to your overseers so you can tell 'em about us?"
"No. I'm not going back to them. I'm going home."

My hand falls towards the pistol in the holster on my belt. Guns beat blades, usually. It will provide a few moments for me to escape, back into the crowds outside the lounge. Unless one of his thugs draws a gun of his own, I should be good.

Quickly, I lift the gun and point it towards the antagonizing man's head, and I suddenly feel as if I am in a dream. Only once before have I ever pointed a gun towards someone. Never have I fired the gun. This time won't be any different. Somehow I'm backpedaling towards the lounge's exit, watching the leader's men reach for their own weapons. I have to go, now!

Suddenly, I'm running, somehow outside the lounge, and I can hear a frenzied ruckus behind me. No doubt the leader's men are chasing me! I regret ever going into the lounge; such places on these levels only mean bad things. I know they will kill me unless I get to cover fast; the only visible possibility is an alcove besides an elevator leading to the upper floors. The elevators are always impossible to access; only security uses them.

My back falls against the wall of the alcove, just enough so that I'm out of sight of the persuing thugs. I can either fire my gun towards them or remain hidden, but one way or another they are going to eventually be here.

Now, it's a matter of time...

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Re: Terra Lost

Post by DWDruid »

I drew my pistol out of its holster as the elevator made its quiet and slow desent down. Most of these lower levels could be dangerous and you never knew what kind of scrum liked to grow and fester were hiding among its dark shadows. With a smal "ping", the door opened and I stepped out.

Right when the door opened, I could have sworn I saw a shadow moving quickly out of sight. Raising my gun and doing a quick sweep I shouted out "OAPD! Whose ever there, show yourselfs!" I did response, but it was just then that I heard raised voices up ahead, LOTS of raised voices up ahead, lots of raised ANGRY voices up ahead. And almost on cue, a mob of about 10-15 men turned the corner and, seeing me, stopped. Raising my gun I shouted, "OAPD! Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air!"
"Wolves, when you get down to it, are a lot like us.
They are powerful, aggressive, territorial, and predatory.
They are smart, curious, cooperative, loyal, and adaptable.
They exert a profound influence on the ecosytems they inhabit."
"Wolf Wars"
-National Geographic March 2010

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Re: Terra Lost

Post by Miguel »

Suddenly, there's a new person by my side, and, by the looks of his uniform, I'm pretty sure that I know who he works for. Whether or not I should be happy to have his assistance, I'm not really sure. His employer hates people like me. There isn't any part of the station that they dream of getting rid of more than the sector I live in. The only reason they've kept us around this long is because of the filtration core beneath us. Some of us keep it running, so they keep us around. In their eyes, most of us are scum.

Nonetheless, the police officer is giving me a chance. He doesn't know the men that are trying to kill me. They won't hesitate to kill him. If they start shooting at him, I'll have to fire back. He's the only chance I have of getting into the upper levels.

I speak, "Listen, but don't look at me. You need to get to cover, now. These guys won't hesitate to kill you. They're after me!"

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And forget wherein they've sinned
Ne're hearkening back on tragedies past
Lest the Twelve might humble them
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Re: Terra Lost

Post by Akuhyou »

OOC: Would you guys mind me joining?
He who knows he who knows not, and knows not that he knows not, is a fool, shun him; He who knows not, and knows that he knows not, is a child, teach him. He who knows, and knows not that he knows, is asleep, wake him. He who knows, and knows that he knows, is wise, follow him.
-Proverb

Man is his own worst enemy.
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3-17-10 R.I.P. Anthony
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Re: Terra Lost

Post by Miguel »

Please do!! :D

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And forget wherein they've sinned
Ne're hearkening back on tragedies past
Lest the Twelve might humble them
---Unknown
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Re: Terra Lost

Post by Akuhyou »

OOC: Yay, coolies!

Name: Cassius Allonsien
Age: 17
Station: OS Anorium
Height: 5'7"
Hair Color: Dusty grey/black
Eye Color: Pale blue
Race: Werelizard(Frilled lizard)

Background: At his birth, it was discovered he had a heart defect. His mother couldn't afford the expensive medicines and operations he needed and doctors said he would be dead by the age of two. Surprisingly Cassius pulled through, managing to make it through 17 years of life and planning to keep on going as well. He's a strong willed kid, though a bit naive despite the place he lives in. He works at the Orion lounge and also does small tasks here and there such as cleaning, sewing and other household chores to pay for the cheaper alternative to the expensive medical care he needs. He has to take an injection daily that keeps his condition in check but he knows it'll only last for so long.

Appearance: Due to his inability to partake in overly stressing physical activities and his heart condition, most say he's unreasonably thin at 110 lbs. Occasionally he has coughing fits which will leave him short of breath, and neither can he do something like running or climbing before needing to rest. His thin, almost feminine appearance has earned him the nickname 'Beanstalk' among friends and gotten him into more than one close encounter with a drunkard at the less than appealing places where he works. His hair is naturally white, but due to unwanted attention he 'dyes' his hair daily, rubbing soot and ashes into his hair until it takes on the near black colour he desires. His hair is combed out to almost resemble a lizard's frill, then pulled back in a ponytail at his neck which ends between his shoulder blades. Despite all this, his mother taught him proper manners and etiquette and he's almost always seen wearing some type of formal attire. He never attempts to pick a fight, rather choosing to talk his way out of a potential confrontation.

Personality: Cassius is caring to a fault, and a bit naive. He tries to find the good in those around them and refuses to let his current environment get him down. He doesn't see his ailment as so much of burden, simply a part of who he is, and has come to terms with it, knowing that sooner or later it'll be his time. Rather than dwell on it, he does his best to help those around him, even going so far as to feed stray animals and the occasional beggar who may happen by. He enjoys heights, loving the feel of being atop buildings and watching passersby without worry of being seen. He doesn't know of his true nature as a were, his mother never spoke of it with him. And all he knows of his father is that he is one of higher ups, and someone who happened to take a liking to his mother one day, the product of which was his birth. Although there isn't much he'll complain of, the one thing that really gets to him is the confining feel of this space station and often dreams of the earth his mother told him about as a child.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was Cassius's day off and like his other days off, he chose to spend it relaxing among the heights of the building tops. Watching the occasional passerby and daydreaming of the stories about Earth his mother used to tell him. "Mother, I-- ...What's all that noise? Hmm.." He rolled over and peeked over the edge of the building to see a man go running by, obviously he was running from something. He only caught a brief glimpse of the guy before he dove into a shadowed alcove, trying to hide. Cassius was pondering the nagging thought that he'd seen the guy before just when the elevator opened and a another man stepped out. He tilted his head to the side as the noise from earlier came closer and a group of men came barreling around the corner.

"OAPD! Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air!"

Cassius smiled, more to himself than anything as he moved along the building top towards the mob, studying them. "OAPD huh.. Who's after that guy anyway? ...Eh.." He went quiet for a moment, teeth clenched in some sort of distress as he caught sight of the mob's leader. The drunkard who started this whole mess back at the bar and the drunkard who came after Cassius with 'less than honourable intentions' a few months ago. The event left him too embarrassed, shocked, and afraid to go back to working at the bar for days, not to mention the murderous look the guy gave him once he found out Cassius was in fact not a girl. But of course, as things down here in the lower levels go: 'you wanna live, you gotta work'. His mother, who was still alive then, had given him a stern talking to about it. So he went to 'dyeing' his hair and kept his head down at work, successfully avoiding trouble since.

"I think those guys need some help... And I kinda want revenge. Sick son of a..." He caught himself, sighing as that had nearly been another penny for his almost empty swear jar as he walked over to a pair of old and worn crates. He figured these ought to do the trick, and they were empty so no one should be too badly injured. He braced his back against one and pushed it along the building edge as best he could until it was in position. He knew the mob was far too caught up with the OAPD Officer before them to even bother looking up as he gave the crate one final shove and sent it over the edge. He didn't realize that the crates were attached together by a rope and soon as the first one fell the second went with it, falling into the group of men rather than in front of them like the first had.

Cassius backed away from the roof's edge as shouts and screams of surprise and pain came from the group below and he ran down to the side of the building the other two men were on and quickly slid down the ladder there. He was gasping for breath by the time he reached the ground and had to hold one of the ladder's rungs to keep himself standing. Between pushing that crate, the shock of what he'd done, running and taking that ladder like he did, today was turning out to be the most eventful day of his life. He managed to catch his breath enough to to call out to the two guys not far from him. "He.. Hey! You two, come on! That ought to keep them busy for a while but the commotion's gonna bring everyone here in a few minutes! Come, quickly!" He turned and ran down the alleyway, thankful that his home wasn't too far from here.
Last edited by Akuhyou on Wed Oct 20, 2010 5:07 pm, edited 2 times in total.
He who knows he who knows not, and knows not that he knows not, is a fool, shun him; He who knows not, and knows that he knows not, is a child, teach him. He who knows, and knows not that he knows, is asleep, wake him. He who knows, and knows that he knows, is wise, follow him.
-Proverb

Man is his own worst enemy.
-unknown
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Re: Terra Lost

Post by DWDruid »

Hearing the voice behind me I turned my head slightly in its diection, just enough to see the speaker's face. As I did, the computer in my visor scanned his face and instantly transfered any data on him from the OAPD Database. Name: Artium Vestera a.k.a. "Vox" Age: 24 , Race: Human , Ocupation: Lower level Mechanic , Past Violations: None , Current OPAD Status: Unwanted.

Not a very impressive profile, but a trustworthy one. As the mog reached for their own weapons, I secretly pressed a hidden button in my gloves triggering my headsets radio. In barely a whisper, I reported back to base about my situation and was told to appehend as many suspects as possible but to avoid any casulties and injuries to myself.

I was just etting my gun to "STUN", when I heard a loud crash right above me. I looked up and saw a huge avalanche of boxes rained down upon the mob. In only a few seconds, nearly every person was knocked out or trapped underneath the debris. For those few who were able to crawl out of the rubble quickly fell to the stunning blasts from my gun.

It was then that a small werelizard came down a ladder on the building where the boxes fell from. Even for a lizard kid, he was extremely thin and looked very unhealthy. He was even out of breath. Again, my visor turned on and scanned him. Name: Cassius Allonsien , Age: 17 , Race: Werelizard , Ocupation: Orion Lounge employee , Medical Facts: sevre heart defect , Past Violations: None , Current OPAD Status: Unwanted. Another clean record, but I might need to add "Vigulante Actions" after today.

As he ran off, I once again called back to headquarters for orders. The Chief requested me to keep up with the Vestera and Allonsien, apparently they had struck some interest with some higher ups. I then noticed that both their "Current OAPD Status" had changed to 'Under Investigation". Taking the hint, I followed the lizard off down the alley.
"Wolves, when you get down to it, are a lot like us.
They are powerful, aggressive, territorial, and predatory.
They are smart, curious, cooperative, loyal, and adaptable.
They exert a profound influence on the ecosytems they inhabit."
"Wolf Wars"
-National Geographic March 2010

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Additional Details: Men are wont to suffer
And forget wherein they've sinned
Ne're hearkening back on tragedies past
Lest the Twelve might humble them
---Unknown
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Location: Georgia
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Re: Terra Lost

Post by Akuhyou »

OOC: Hey, I figure I should probably wait for Miguel to reply before I do. He's not been on for a while, hope he's alright. But yeah, sides its back to classes again anyway. Not much time for RPing but I'll get it done.
He who knows he who knows not, and knows not that he knows not, is a fool, shun him; He who knows not, and knows that he knows not, is a child, teach him. He who knows, and knows not that he knows, is asleep, wake him. He who knows, and knows that he knows, is wise, follow him.
-Proverb

Man is his own worst enemy.
-unknown
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Re: Terra Lost

Post by Miguel »

OOC: Hey, I'm back! Sorry about the delay. School and work have been pretty heavy lately.

Maybe it's a miracle, or perhaps it's just pure luck, but somehow my odds of survival have just risen a good ten points or so. Around the corner, I can see the thug's gang stumbling around; some of its members have been knocked out cold. Fragments of wood cover the ground, from damaged crates maybe. These alleyways are outlined by buildings that are well past repair-date; naturally, things somehow find ways onto the roof of each building, things that don't really belong there. Here, goods are imported in, and they are very rarely ever taken out.

I look towards the cop now, expecting him to apprehend the gang, but he doesn't. Instead, he runs. I'm not one to trust a fed, especially on this level, but he might be my only chance of surviving.

I follow him.

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Additional Details: Men are wont to suffer
And forget wherein they've sinned
Ne're hearkening back on tragedies past
Lest the Twelve might humble them
---Unknown
Mood: Disappointed
Location: Georgia
Contact:

Re: Terra Lost

Post by Akuhyou »

OOC: Yay! Welcome back dude. Heh, I know what you mean, college is pretty harsh this term. Oh yeah, case I put 'Cirrus', just know I actually meant Cassius. That's what I get for using similar character names... I'll fix it if I notice it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassius ran down the alleyway, hearing the two men not far behind. He darted down an adjacent alleyway and soon came out onto a street of sorts. In all honesty, after everything he'd been through today, he didn't think he'd make it the next few steps to the door of his house. But didn't really feel like giving up so soon so he sucked in a deep breath, went those last few steps, fished his keys out of his pockets, unlocked and opened the door, and waited. He leaned back against the doorframe and resisted the urge to clutch at his chest, his heart was reprimanding him for all the work he was putting it through. He coughed slightly and wiped grey sweat from his forehead, the color in his hair was running. "Gotta wash it out then.." He sighed and just told himself could rest all he wanted once he had this door shut and locked.
He who knows he who knows not, and knows not that he knows not, is a fool, shun him; He who knows not, and knows that he knows not, is a child, teach him. He who knows, and knows not that he knows, is asleep, wake him. He who knows, and knows that he knows, is wise, follow him.
-Proverb

Man is his own worst enemy.
-unknown
3-17-10 R.I.P. Anthony
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DWDruid
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Re: Terra Lost

Post by DWDruid »

I eventually found myself at what must have the kid's (Cassius, I think his name was) house. As the lizard focused on unlocking the door, the other man (umm..., Arteim! That's it.) caught up to us from behind. Motioning to the door, I said "You go ahead inside, I'll make sure nothing else is foolowing us." I took a step back into the alley wit my pistol up, waiting and ready should anthing come this way.
"Wolves, when you get down to it, are a lot like us.
They are powerful, aggressive, territorial, and predatory.
They are smart, curious, cooperative, loyal, and adaptable.
They exert a profound influence on the ecosytems they inhabit."
"Wolf Wars"
-National Geographic March 2010

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Akuhyou
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Additional Details: Men are wont to suffer
And forget wherein they've sinned
Ne're hearkening back on tragedies past
Lest the Twelve might humble them
---Unknown
Mood: Disappointed
Location: Georgia
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Re: Terra Lost

Post by Akuhyou »

OOC: Is this one dead too?
He who knows he who knows not, and knows not that he knows not, is a fool, shun him; He who knows not, and knows that he knows not, is a child, teach him. He who knows, and knows not that he knows, is asleep, wake him. He who knows, and knows that he knows, is wise, follow him.
-Proverb

Man is his own worst enemy.
-unknown
3-17-10 R.I.P. Anthony
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