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RedThorn Wolf Pack (Character Depository)

Name
Isaiah Tuller

Nickname
Izzy

Age
24

Family
Unknown

Relationship status
Single

Pack
Redthorn

Pack Rank
TBA

Human appearance
Izzy is tall and lanky. He stands at 6'3". His skin is fair and freckled, and his hair is reddish brown. He wears his hair in a sort of half-dread, half down style. He doesn't shave very often; he's too proud of his little beard braids. He has blue eyes, pierced ears, and a tattoo sleeve down most of one arm.

Dizzy don

Wolf appearance
He's a tall wolf with long legs and a slender build. His fur is a sandy brown with several shades in it. His eyes are bright orange.



Personality
Izzy is the household "funny guy". His humerus personality developed as a coping mechanism, brought on by experiences in earlier life. If he smiles and pretends nothing bad ever happened, then it's almost like nothing bad ever happened. He doesn't like it when people try to see past the defense he built, and he certainly doesn't like talking about it. Although the root of most of his problems lie in the past, he prefers to keep moving forward. He doesn't like it when people around him are upset or unhappy, and often is the one trying to run around and fix everything. When it's him that's the problem, he withdraws himself from the situation until everyone's calmed down, then he proceeds as if there's no problem at all. His escapist tendencies can be problematic, but he doesn't foresee changing his ways any time soon.

Likes
Sunny days
Apple juice
Swimming
Most people

Dislikes
When people say 'we need to talk'
Brussels sprouts
Crying
Having to sit still

Skills
One of the faster runners; long legs help.
He's a great cheerer-upper
A good painter
He has a knack for climbing
He's pretty good at fixing/taking apart electronics

History
Izzy was a foster home kid. From what he knows, his mother was a teenager who had him by mistake and put him up for adoption. He never knew who his father was, and he never really cared. His foster family was all he ever needed when he was a child. They could have been made saints for all the crap they put up with from him and the three other boys under their care. Izzy was a mischievous child. He tore apart cell phones, TV remotes, radios, or anything else he could get his hands on. He made some pretty neat stuff out of the parts, but ruined hundreds of dollars of technology in the process.

In his freshman year in highschool, he got into robotics. The robotics club won many Bot Battles that year. It was over the summer between Freshman and Sophomore year that he discovered that he was different. Izzy was a bit of a late bloomer in that sense. His first phase happened when he was at home. He got in an argument with his foster mother over something fairly petty. He became unreasonably angry. When he shifted, he almost lashed out and seriously hurt her. Her terrified screaming snapped him out of it, causing him to run in fear. He didn't know what had happened to him, why it happened, or how to reverse it. He knew that, whatever was wrong with him, he couldn't go back home. What if he did it again, and actually hurt someone?

Izzy never saw his foster family again after that. He's never made any attempt to contact them, still afraid of what they might think. Or that they may not even be around anymore. After he ran away, he was spotted several other times by humans. It wasn't long before he had the big foot hunters, guys in black suits, and the whole scientific community hunting him down. Izzy was captured and taken to a government facility for testing. By now, he'd figured out how to phase back and forth between human and wolf. It didn't help much. He was kept in a large cage, usually drugged up and half aware of what was going on.

He spent about four years of his life being poked and prodded at like some kind of alien from outer space. Izzy doesn't remember most of it. His brain blocked out the more traumatic experiences. All he ever gets are bits and pieces. He managed to escape and go on the run before he found the pack. He's come to think of them as family, and trusting them as such. However, he's always been a little jumpy. He's always looking over his shoulder, afraid that one day the guys in white coats might find him again.

Izzy suffers post traumatic stress disorder from his time in the lab. He does a pretty good job of managing it without medication, as getting such medications would be pretty difficult. He does have occasional episodes, but it's usually nothing the pack can't handle. With a good support system, he'd managed to live a happy life so far. He's never really told anyone exactly what all happened to him, beyond that he was captured and poked at. Beyond that, he doesn't know much more himself.

The Blackfield Asylum

I would be interested if it's done right. I'm kinda' with the 'troll'. Not everyone inside an asylum is a crazy psycho killer. You can be put in an asylum for being a danger to yourself as well as anyone else.

A suicidal person could be locked up.

An anorexic could be locked up.

Hell, you could accuse your perfectly normal neighbor of 'being a danger to society', and if the courts agree with you, HE could be locked up.

Adventurers of Lemea (Lands of Lemea RS)

Zinzie didn't argue. He began wolfing down the porridge as if it were the greatest meal on the planet. His table manners were sure nothing to write home about. When his bowl was empty and scraped clean, he leaned back in his chair again. His stomach actually felt full. It was uncomfortable almost. But he was much happier now than before.

Zinzie reached up to scratch his head, only to be reminded that it was caked with dried mud. He was filthy. Zinzie wasn't a neat freak by any means of the word, but he enjoyed feeling clean now and then.
"Do you think they offer baths here?" He asked. He knew that, during his travels, taverns were a good place to stop, get supplies, and wash up. Many had some sort of inn attached to them, with a bathhouse. A nice, warm bath sounded pretty good to the beaten man.

Adventurers of Lemea (Lands of Lemea RS)

Zinzie flopped down in the chair, limp as a ragdoll. He didn't look too lively until water was offered to him. He most certainly would have chugged it down if the man offering it to him hadn't told him not to. Instead, he slowly but steady drained the bottle. By now, he'd stopped panting like a fat man running a marathon. Zinzie at least felt a bit better. His voice was clear enough to speak with the man who had saved him.

"Thieves," He said. "I was taken by thieves. They were after the wealth and riches of my people. The Wandering Nation; perhaps you've heard of them? I was their king."

The Wandering Nation was a thing of myth, as far as most people were concerned. There were some that claimed to have seen it, but it was usually dismissed as a large group of travelers. The legend went that a group of outcasts formed. They were shunned by society, and suffered for it. Forced to wander the vast and unforgiving lands, they decided that no one else should have to suffer their fate. They began to pick up people who society also tossed aside. Run away slaves, fugitives, royalty that wished to escape the crown, anyone who wanted to join them. It was said that over time, the caravan grew from tens, to hundreds, to thousands. It was the population of a small nation, and thus the name. It gained several royals, and with them, unequaled fortunes. Many thought that if they could defeat the Wandering people, they would be the riches person of earth. But no one had ever been able to pin their location down. Thus, people assumed that it was all just a story that people told each other when they couldn't find anything else to do.

"You won't regret your kindness," Zinzie promised. "If you can help me find them, I will repay you in gold, my friend. As much as you can carry. Plus a horse to carry more." Zinzie certainly didn't look very rich. And he sure as hell didn't look like any kind of king. Perhaps the months in isolation had taken his mind. Maybe he was just delirious. He seemed so sure of himself, though.

Adventurers of Lemea (Lands of Lemea RS)

Everything hurt. From the inflamed wounds across his body to the tiniest of cuts hurt ever worse once he was sure he would die there in the street. He panted heavily, his head spinning. His mouth was dry like a desert, and the moldy bread he'd eaten hadn't helped. His bony hips prodded the cobblestone in a painful kind of way, but he was too weak to bother moving.

Then, suddenly, he felt someone grab onto him and haul him up. Zinzie let out a pained groan as his legs wobbled underneath him. He could barely hold himself up, even when leaning heavily on the stranger. He couldn't find the breath in between pants to answer the man's questions, but he tried.
"Yes, please," He rasped, "Please, before they find me. Thank you."

The tavern grew quiet when they staggered in the door. Zinzie was a sight for sore eyes. He wasn't sure what his rescuer looked like, but it was probably pretty strange. Zinzie began to feel slowly optimistic again. Maybe all hope wasn't lost. If he could hold out for a bit longer, he could most certainly recover. He would be home again in no time, assuming he could find his home.

Adventurers of Lemea (Lands of Lemea RS)

Either of you guys could find Zinzie if you want =P

Adventurers of Lemea (Lands of Lemea RS)

This cell, the place he had called home for the past thirteen months, was dark and dirty as always when he awoke. Zinzie lifted his head to see that, unfortunately, it was still not just a very bad dream. The floor of the cell was nothing more than a pit of mud, not even fit for pigs to wallow. The cold water that was dumped on him about once a week as his 'bath' had mixed with the dirt floor to create an unholy concoction of wet earth. In the darkness, it never dried. Zinzie usually found himself covered in it.

After finding the strength to pull himself up off the squishy ground, he staggered over to the one place that kept him sane. On the outside wall of his cell, there was a small, barred window. If he stood on his tiptoes, he could see out into the forest that surrounded his isolated prison. The window was about ground level, allowing him to, if he became desperate enough, snatch up insects that wandered too close to eat. There was a juicy, plump cricket sitting just outside of his reach. Zinzie watched it as it crawled away, back into the forest. The sunshine looked beautiful this morning. The birds could be heard singing. He wished more than anything to be enjoying this morning with his family; he friends. He let out a soft sigh and began to sing again. Singing always seemed to help.

"I'm so far from where I'm from
I don't know where I've gone
Lord, I'm five hundred miles away from home

Away from home, away from home
Away from home, away from home
Lord, I'm five hundred miles away from home

Not a shirt on my back
Not a penny to my name
Lord I can't go back home this a-way

This a-way, this a-way
This a-way, this a-way
Lord I can't go back home this a-way

Lord I'm one, lord I'm two
Lord I'm three, lord I'm four
Lord I'm five hundred mile away from home

Away from home, away from home
Away from home, away from home
Lord I'm five hundred mile away from home

Don't have much longer left
Even if I go in death
Lord, I'm a-going home, someday.

Someday, someday
Someday, someday
Lord, I'm a-going home, someday..."

He grasped the bars of the window and used them to hold himself up. Zinzie believed he had counted two days since the guards last gave him food. His legs were beginning to shake underneath him, but he didn't want to sit back down in the mud. He rested his chin on the edge of the window and looked out. Suddenly, a bird landed just a foot away. Zinzie jumped, but managed to hold in his yelp. The bird had a nut in it's beak, which it began to repeatedly strike against a rock in the dirt. Zinzie watched with fascination, until his more primitive side took over.

He let out a shout, scaring away the bird, and snatched up the little acorn. The shell was already half busted, letting him open up the rest and devour the nut inside. It wasn't much, but it might keep him alive. He then leaned his back against the wall and looked down at the broken pieces of shell. What now? He was still hungry. Perhaps he should have grabbed the bird instead...Then an idea struck.

Zinzie made his wobbly way over to the barred door of his cell and stuffed the nut shell into the latch. He hoped that, if and when they ever opened the door to give him food, the door wouldn't catch the lock. It would be a while before he could test his wackjob theory, however. Hours went by with not so much as a peep out of thieves that lived in the base. Then, finally, the door at the top of the dungeon stairs opened. Zinzie, out of habit, pressed against the back wall. It could be a guard with food, or it could be a guard who's had a bad day and was wishing to take it out on him. However, the form of one of the smaller men appeared, a piece of moldy bread in his hands. He muttered something under his breath as he opened the door and tossed the bread inside. It landed in the mud with a wet 'plop', and then the door was closed behind him as the guard went back up the stairs. He didn't even bother to check if it had caught.

Zinzie made a dive for the bread and ate it down in seconds. There had been a time when he turned his nose up at the rotten food they gave him, but now he'd eat just about anything. When he was done, he looked up at the door with wide eyes. Could it be? He was almost scared to look. Slowly, he got up and crept towards the cell door, then gave it a light push. It didn't budge. He scowled and shoved it. The door creaked open, making Zinzie jump back. What if they heard it? The possibility was ridiculous at best, but to a man who spent the last year in a dark, muddy hole, it was terrifying.

Slowly, he crept out. As he left the cell, his bare feet touched solid ground for the first time in a long time. He didn't see any other way out of the dungeon than the one offered: the door. He barely had the strength to fight his way out if needed; hell, he barely had the strength to waltz out without a hitch. Zinzie slunk to the top of the stairs and took the door handle. He paused, gave a short prayer to whatever god was watching, and pushed the door open just a crack. He didn't hear any voices. Perhaps they had all gone to rob. He pushed the door a little more and poked his head out. By some miracle, the coast was clear. The base wasn't large. It was mostly three rooms, and the one before him was empty. Zinzie wasted no time as he snuck out and slithered towards the door. He couldn't believe it; all that time and escape was so easy. It seemed that he had tried anything and everything. Everything but placing a nutshell in the latch.

As the front door creaked open, Zinzie somehow found the strength inside of him to run. He ran even though his entire body hurt. He ran with the fear of being caught and locked up again. He gritted his teeth and kept up his pace even as his lungs caught on fire. The forest underbrush tore and cut at his body, but after what he'd been through, it was mere child's play. The only clothes he wore, his tattered pants, were already torn halfway to pieces. His skin, which clung tightly to his bones, was just as tattered. His body was covered in a rainbow of bruises. Large cuts and open wounds were an angry red with infection. His back bore scars that only a cruel whip could leave behind. With one black eye and a swollen lip, he looked like hell itself. His hair was long, the lively curls all but flat. Mud caked itself in it, as it did everywhere on his body.

By the time he reached civilization, Zinzie couldn't run any further. As he slowed, he found himself dizzy and exhausted. He staggered out of the woods and onto the cobblestone street. There were people. Real, live, actual, non-threatening people! Zinzie called out to them for help, but most gave him one look and hurried off. None of them wanted to be bothered by a half naked man covered in mud.
"Please help me," Zinzie cried. "Somebody, please." His legs gave out on him, bringing him to his knees. He felt utter distraught. He made it so far, only for the cruel social status that was 'look out for number one' to doom him. He crumbled on the street, no more strength and out of hope. People on their way to run errands just walked around him, looking down at him as if he were a rat that had crawled from the sewer.

(The tune of Zinzie's song is Five Hundred Miles. You can look it up if you're curious enough :p )

Adventurers of Lemea (Lands of Lemea RS)

I'm in American Central time
I usually post in the mornings before school/work and in the evenings when I get home.
It's finals week; I'll do what I can, but understandably, my future is more important to me.

Adventurers of Lemea (Lands of Lemea RS)

Name: Zinzie Searoby
Age: 29
Race: Human/Witch
Country of Origin: Kaymari

Personality: Very upbeat and chipper. Although a bit eccentric, he's pretty hard to hate. He also loves to sing, and does so pretty often.

Appearance: He's a tall, thin shaped man. Zinzie stands at 6'3" with a lanky build. His skin is an olive tone, and his hair is curly and dark brown. His eyes are almond shaped and a chocolate brown. He likes jewelry, colorful and loose fitting clothing, and beads in his hair, but since his abduction, he hasn't had any of those luxuries. He's barely clothes in dirty rags, hair long, unruly and caked with mud, and anything of any value has been stolen from him.


Combat Skills: A pretty fair fighter. He possesses mild magic abilities that aid him in combat.

Adventuring & Survival Skills: Well traveled, a good leader, pretty resilient. He's fairly practiced at potion making, if he can get his hands on proper ingredients.

Reason for traveling: He wants to get back home.

History: Zinzie was born to a human mother and a witch father. He grew up in a traveling caravan with a lifestyle akin to that of gypsies. When his caravan was attacked by thieves, they went into hiding. Zinzie was captured by the determined thieves and drug off to Kaymari to their base of operations. They hoped to torture the caravan's whereabouts out of him, but a year has passed and he hasn't given up any information yet. The long, painful time away from home may or may not have messed with his head a little bit.

Adventure RP - looking for males or females

A caravan has been formed by several strangers to cross the unforgiving land of Talga.

This story takes place in a made up world called Escaria. Just think Middle Earth. There may be a small amount of mythical creatures, but I haven't decided what. You may help with that if you want =P Magic can be a thing here, but it's not a very common thing.

The caravan consists of six characters I will play, and however many characters you wish to play. You can play any amount from 1 to 6. If you just want to play one, that's fine. I'm not looking for a specific gender, but be warned that all my characters so far are male.

The caravan formed to travel across Talga: a rough, mostly unmapped land that is notorious for harboring outlaws, evil creatures, and horrible wizards. Most people who cross it go in a group, and those who don't typically don't make it out.The people who have come together don't know each other very well, other than what they can gather at face value. They met in a town called Waymont, where most of the Talgan Caravans form. They stayed in the town a few days until they had enough people to make the journey. The caravans typically meet at a tavern in the town, where they sign their names on a paper hung on the wall, then go back after a week to meet whoever signed up and get their situations straight. Usually after a week, there are enough people signed up.

Then comes to traveling. They will travel by horse at first, but as misfortunes happen, they will probably end up on foot. They may have to travel by boat at some point as well. Getting across Talga usually takes a up to three months. If we get bored with our current place in time, we can timeskip to a more interesting point in their travels. It would be pretty boring to write about them walking across some valley for five days straight.

I would like:

Someone who can post at least once a day.
A high casual to advanced writing level.

So who's interested?