• View
• Edit
• History
• Backlinks

Carrion

Carrion was a Tirones of Inferni.

History

Carrion was born on a warm day in June in the ruins of New York. His family was a troupe of travelling ne'er do wells, who named him for the fact he was the only survivor of his generally neglective and alcoholic mother. His mother died only a month or so later, and any one of his pack members could have been his father, so everyone pitched in raising the boy. At one year old he was initiated into the pack, known as The Lost. He failed the initiation, which was to hunt a mountain lion. The pack left him for dead, slashed and almost killed by the lion. As his penance for failing, an inverted V was carved into his forehead by the pack leader, who turned out to be his father, and left for dead in upstate New York. After wandering for five months, attempting suicide many times, he finally tried to end it all by jumping off of Niagara Falls. He survived, and was taken in by an old husky who nursed him back to health. The experience of feeling such love changed him forever, turning him from a bitter, violent wolf to a thoughful, vaguely philosophical warrior. His need to see his father- a thinly disguised ploy which really meant to kill his father- led him to leave two years later, and he headed north, looking for his family. He gave up when he came to the Inferni packlands, deciding finally to settle down with the group of coyotes, and forget about his family. But he couldn’t forget. He would never forget what they did to him.

Personality

Carrion’s an odd sort. He’s kind toward those who show courtesy, even a little skittish around new people, yet vicious towards those who are outright rude or unfair. In his youth he was taught to seek revenge unceasingly and also to follow his instincts. He follows the latter in full, and though he has mostly left the vengeance complex behind, he still is known to hold grudges from time to time. His family was brutal to him, and tortured him whenever he did something wrong or got on his father’s nerves… or just walked too close or even on a whim. This was intended to harden him to pain and inflict the scars that were the pack’s namesake. After his little ‘incident’ with the lion, and suicide attempt at Niagara, he was taken in by a loner medicine woman who taught him to read, how to speak correctly- too formally it turned out [Well it’s that or slang] , read the spirits, and refine his trinket making and craftsmanship to an art.

Carrion believes that each trinket of bone that he wears houses a spirit. He believes they offer him some sort of protection. He’s quiet around other canines, and phobic of loud noises and wasps- he was locked in a room with a wasp nest once as punishment. He cannot swim and he’s even worse at climbing, but when you get him on flat battleground or better, the woods, he can make his way better than many others. He’s got a soft spot for children and will protect them with his life if the need arises. Though he’s a warrior, born and bred, he’ll readily accept submission or compromise. He has a natural aversion to rape and senseless murder. He plays drums when he’s bored or can’t sleep- which is often, much to the dismay of his roomates. He even carries around a little tom that he plays spirit-songs with every so often as he’s inspired to do so. Usually, this is right after a joint- he has no aversion to smoking marijuana or drinking, though he tends to get a bit weepy and emotional when drunk, and when high has a tendency to wake up later in strange places, with strange people. When alone he’ll either play drums or craft trinkets or weapons. If he likes someone he might even give them a trinket or two in parting.

Relationships

Family

• Parents —

Friends

Acquaintances

Enemies

Appearance

Carrion is always in Optime form if he can help it, since Secui and Lupus forms bring back bad memories of his childhood. Standing at around 6'4, and weighing in at 231lbs, he's slim and smoothly muscled. He has rusty black fur, with a very dark tan underbelly. He has numerous scars and scarifications, including one on the side of his muzzle, a large crisscross of pink slashes on his back, and scores down his wrists that seem to have been sloppily stitched up soon after being cut, and deep, brutal slashes on his chest from a mountain lion's claws, and a large inverted V carved into his forehead that extends down over his eyes to his jawline, almost. He has three silver barbells through the skin on top of his snout, the bars visible due to cuts on his nose, and a piercing through the lower part of his right ear, which like the other is ripped and ragged, full of snips and holes. His eyes are dark blue towards the pupils, green behind. He wears mostly his own hand-made clothes-rawhide bracers, upper arm coverings and lower leg covers, draped with beads, strings, and bones, and old cargo shorts that just brush his knees, bones stitched into the fabric. He has an abundance of bones and plastic beads all about his person, with bones carved into beads, teeth and claws made into necklaces, and so many more trinkets attached to strings that when he moves, he clinks and rattles. His neck is draped with necklaces, everything from swastikas to Harley-Davidson insignias to peace signs and soul-catchers, as well as a large, moon- shaped bone trinket carved from a coyote skull. In cold weather he adopts a threadbare cloak with a squirrel skull brooch. Around the hood he's attached strings with clay beads.

 [[