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 Tyrant's Forte and Faction

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Number of posts : 18
Registration date : 2008-08-22

PostSubject: Tyrant's Forte and Faction   Sat Aug 23, 2008 1:43 pm


Age: 130
Breed: Kitsune
Gender: Female
Human Form

Coya, in human form, is around 5'6 and weighs around 115lbs. Long and lean, she also aquired the sensual curves in the right places. In this form she has canine-like fangs, but that is the only abnormality that could seperate her from looking absolutely human in this form. Coya has russet hair, olive-toned skin, and bright yellow eyes with little blue specks in the iris. Clad in dark wash jeans with rips and tears, some kind of stolen puma shoes, bracelets, earrings, and necklaces, and usually a tasteful top that shows off her lovely figure. Coya is rarely in this form due to the amount of black magic it takes to make all fox-like attributes dissapear. Interestingly enough, nomatter how much black magic she uses, she can never fully dissapear her fox shadow. Sometimes, if the sun casts a shadow in the right light, the human-like figure is replaced with her true form--a fox.

note: picture used to show fox ears, tail, jewelry, and body shape.

In wereform, Coya appears as a normal human but has twin, red and white tipped fox ears and a fox tail. Otherwise, she appears as human as possible. She normally uses black magic for her tail, but leaves her ears to hide under a hat.


Small red fox. When frightened or too wounded/tired to keep her human forms, Coya reverts to her true nature.

Kitsune Demon form:

6'7 on hind legs. Possesses extreme strength, bloodlust, and extended use of black magic. Aquires the five tails Coya has gained over the years. Massive fangs and claws accompanied with spiked wings, Coya cannot readily think straight in this form. She usually resorts to this form out of rage, danger, or sometimes fear. Bloodlust and rage thrive in this form, and whomever gets in her path would do best to pray for mercy.

Overall, Coya's characteristics and personality mimicks that of a fox's. Coy, cunning, smug, arrogant, and proud, the Kitsune is not afraid to speak her mind and often does. She can be aloof and distant when in large groups, and mainly sticks to lone or two others. The Kitsune has an extreme dislike to other women who rival her dominance or her beauty, and most of the time just dislikes women in general. She can be flirtatious and sensual, trapping men and other creatures for her own personal gain. Whether it be for pick-pocketing, slaying, or even for her own personal pleasure, the Kitsune knows well of her beauty and uses it to her advantage. Coya does not mesh or mold with any stereo-type, group, or kind and prides herself in being very original. Intolerant of stupidity, Coya can be quite brutal and even openly hostile. Quick tempered and easy to strike without warning, she can be quite unpredictable. Coya enjoys causing trouble and wreaking havoc in the minds of lesser beings.

Though Coya is mostly a fiery, cunning Irish Kitsune, and probably one to be avoided, she has another side that not many will ever see. Coya has the potential to be extremely loyal and loving, defending what she loves until she death. Underneath the hard, smug exterior, the Kitsune can actually be a very vulnerable being. However, none yet besides her old mate and a Shadow Anthro have had the privalege of seeing this hidden side.


Coya was not always a Kitsune, able to morph into human/werefox/Kitsune form at any whim. No, at one time, Coya was a happy little red fox, enjoying a life of bliss and harmony. She lived in a system of little burrows in small area outside of a great cobblestone town in Ireland where the grass was deep emerald, and the rains would make clear little gems upon the shoots. At this time in the world, foxes and the local humans lived in peaceful harmony. A deep bond developed between the humans and the foxes, and they lived among each other comfortably. Learning from the humans, the foxes eventually walked upon two feet, doing business in the streets and merchant shops. The humans also learned from the foxes and, in turn, became better farmers, negotiators with other countries, and all around better moral people.

It started with Kiba, a handsome black fox with eyes like the jade necklaces the humans sold. He was the leader of the congregation of about sixty foxes and did the most business with the humans, for he was absolutely fluent in their tongue. Kiba had always had an eye for Coya, the little red fox, and he knew that her strength of mind and her cunning spirit put her at an advantage above all other foxes about. He saw her as smart, witty, lovely, and able to command. When she became of age, Kiba took her and wed her. It was the loveliest ceremony one had ever witness, and both humans and foxes attended. Coya even wore a white laced veil about her pretty fox snout as she walked down the flowered isle. Kiba was very much infatuated with Coya, but the little red fox was in deep adoration of her dark pelted mate. Coya daily would attend to her mate’s every need. She loved him tenderly, and did her best to lead the other foxes with stern but a loving leadership. She was, by far, the best leader the clan had ever had, even sometimes surpassing her own mate’s greatness. Though she, in most everyone’s eyes, was greater than Kiba, Coya served her mate faithfully and never gave him any reason to be cross with her at any moment.

No one, not even the clever foxes, knew of the storm that was brewing right in front of their snouts. Not even Coya. It all happened so suddenly when the humans and their four-legged beasts raided the fox clan and the human village, slaughtering anyone and anything in their path. Coya and a few other foxes had made it safely into their underground burrows, far from the surface and of danger. There they camped for two days alone and ignorant to the damage upon the earth above. The foxes that had survived the initial slaughter were named Ingrid, a young female fox, Wavorly, Kiba’s advisor, Phillis, an old, wise elder, and Coya herself. Kiba, her mate, had apparently not been so fortunate. After the second day, the young leader had gathered enough courage to examine the damage and perhaps seek out what had become of her kin, her home, and her love. After investigating other emptied burrows to find no survivors, and stepping over the horrid sights of skinned, mangled, or broken foxes and humans, Coya sat alone in the midst of a smoldering lot that used to be her paradise. Kiba was nowhere to be found.

One the third night, the three survivors and their leader decided to make their escape to safety. At this time, Coya had begun to accept that her mate was dead, and that she needed to deliver her fellow kin first and worry about the loss later. Peeking through the night, the cover of blackness to hide them, they only made it a half mile when the strangest of creatures had found them. Bound up tight, their muzzles clasped, making breaking difficult, and their slender legs crisscrossing in unnatural ways, the four survivors were drug to what Coya remembered as Hell. One by one, her closest friends and strong survivors were mangled and beaten before her young, wide eyes. Ingrid and Phillis died quickly at the hands of the odd, shaded creature, snapped in half and tossed aside to look like innocent sleepers. Wavorly did not die as quickly as the others, though Coya wished he would have. It almost seemed like the creature had something to prove with beating Wavorly so badly, and so torturously. When it was finally Coya’s turn, after long last, she was surprised to find that he did not beat her immediately. Infact, she was released from her bindings. Tossed in front of the creatures feet, Coya struggled to her feet to honorably meet her death, though inside she was scared to death of dying. As she looked into the shadows to see the face of her killer, every inch of her froze in disbelief. The little red fox was staring into the face of a half man, half fox creature. However, that was not the reason that every fiber in her being was burning with fright. The creature that stooped over her, with arms outstretched to snatch her up, had the lightest jade eyes she had ever witnessed and deep, jet black hair. The creature’s black fox ears that sat atop his head were cupped forward, and a ever smug smirk curved the lips of the creature. Coya felt her body go as tight as it could go without breaking itself as human hands equipped with strangely large nails, scooped her up gently.

Her captor was Kiba.
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Number of posts : 18
Registration date : 2008-08-22

PostSubject: Re: Tyrant's Forte and Faction   Sun Sep 14, 2008 7:19 am

My name is Annabelle Giada Guiseppe Rossa ('Anna')

I'm a Woman

I've reached 19 years of age.
I look like my age gives my maturity no justice

I howl at the Moon [Werewolf]


Though born and raised in the typical loud, boisterous Italian home, Anna seemed to have dodged every characteristic her loud mother and stern father pummeled into her fellow siblings. Quiet and reserved, thoughtful and mellow, Anna's personality is like a delicate flower tossed among a shallow pit of spunky briars. It is not that Anna is soft or easily taken advantage of, she just yields her strength in other areas. Anna is very lovely, but this fact is oblivious to her as she tries to be as humble as possible. Her young mind contains wisdom far surpassing her peers and some elders, though each experience was learned herself. Sometimes stern and wary of other's intentions, Anna can be quite introverted and shy away from spontaneous situations. She strongly dislikes arrogance, stupidity, and anything that stifles her Independence. If she ever gets angry, which can be kind of quickly when dealing with people she dislikes, the fiery side of her Italian upbringing comes out and she can be very brutal. Her hobbies include reading, writing, and people watching.

Physical Description


5'6, thin but sturdy.




Doesn't generally create violence, but carries small knife upon her at all times. She mostly uses her abilities she recently discovered and has honed into a finely tuned instrument.

Attack[s]/ Ability

Anna can bend water. Her skills include balling up water, pooling large quantities, and shooting powerful streams. Anna recently has been able to take water out of things such as small plants, but struggles and sometimes fails. Unbeknown to anyone, she trains hours a day, fascinated by her skills, and grows strong.




Annabelle Giada Guiseppe grew up in a tiny but lovely shack by the bay in the outskirts of Italy. A lovely town where the sea bled green and emerald upon the sand and the fish were shining silver stars. Middle child out of five siblings, she was not the most cherish, the legacy, nor the scapegoat. She was just Anna, but she never minded. Growing up beside the sea, she became very used to the ocean and it seemed apart of her. She would spend her days swimming in it's warm tides, walking along the shore picking beached shells, and climbing the rocky faces of the small islands off shore. It was apart of her, and she vowed to always be apart of it.

And as she aged gracefully, it was no doubt that the young Anna had many, many suitors. She never was very interested in their games, but laughed carelessly at their at temps and flirtations. Her slim figure swimming about the ocean, long russet hair falling about slender shoulders. Curves took place of lanky bones, and she wore her swimming suit and dresses very well, seemingly unaware of the eyes that peered longingly at her. One such pair of eyes was that of Alberto Rossa, son of a renown fisherman, and an accomplished fisherman himself. A handsome, sturdy man with a strong jaw and determined eyes, eyes that were silver like the fish he caught. She was seventeen he nineteen when he stopped her once between running an errand for her Papa and dancing along the shore line with the wind. Taking a strong hand and running it through her hair, he told her his intentions to marry her, that her father had already agreed, and that she now needed to love him dearly. Green eyes blinked in disbelief, pursed lips opened to make an opposition but were stopped by an awkward kiss placed on her virgin lips. Dropping the bread she carried, the milk and eggs crashing upon the cobbled streets, breaking and bleeding out, Anna ran barefoot in that yellow sun dress to the only thing that made sense at the time-- the ocean. It was steady, never ceasing, never changing.

She was married that fall to Alberto, making many a man's hopes run dry. That day, her hope ran dry, too. And though she looked stunning on the 'happiest day of her life', she knew that no bride had ever felt more alone than she did at that loud, boisterous Italian wedding by the sea.

He took her to his extravagant white washed home as his bride that night after a wild and rushed day of loud aunts and drunken, merry cousins. Anna had reminded herself that she would become a good wife, and that maybe, if she was lucky, love would come out of a hidden place for Alberto. Later, she stood looking at herself in the pearly white bathroom, combing her long hair. He was awaiting her in bed, and she could feel his eyes on her even through the heavy wooden double doors. Her lovely face held composure, but her sea green eyes were large with fright. That night would change her life, forever.


+ Does not believe in love

RP Example

Anna sat straight and still, hidden in between two large, black rocks covered with deep green gushy seaweed. Tucking her long legs up under her, letting her white dress fall to either side a bit immodestly, apple green eyes looked over the hole in the rocks below. A sucking, gurgling pit of sea washed in and out between the Atlantic's inhaling and exhaling. She wasn't surprised to recognize that her breathing pace matched that of the sea's. Taking a nimble hand she swirled it a bit in the air. It took nearly a moment for the sea to respond with a bit of a moan. Lifting up her hand, the green sea followed and bent to her will. A smile tugged at her lovely face. The sea was dancing to her will about three feet from it's dark home, the hole between the rocks. Much more capable than this little feat, she chuckled at how the little things like dancing dots and specks of water made her mood so gay. Her cheeks were pink from the sun above, and she splashed the suspended water upon her lovely face. It ran down her neckline, and she placed a hand there, rubbing it gently about her neck. Her soft fingers ran over a scar about the back of her neck, it was a healed gash and it was raised a bit bigger than the rest of her olive complexioned skin. Dark eyebrows furrowed and she felt a growl arise in her throat, inhuman to say the least.

Her mind swam quickly back to the night she was married and the events that spilled like crimson blood.
She had braced herself for that night, but nothing, no words of wisdom from her mother nor sisters, could of prepared her for what unfolded. Her new husband, Alberto, held her in his arms for some time. Silver eyes glancing at her figure, pleased with his prize. She was his, and he was hers. As the night drew on mercilessly slow, Anna felt helpless and out of control with all events that played out. Suddenly, in the midst of the commotion, things became very strange. Even poor, innocent Anna knew that something was wrong, horribly wrong. Silver eyes that locked into her scared sea green eyes were no longer loving,but animalistic and crazed and his touches no longer gentle, but rough and inflicting pain. His grasp upon her became tighter and tighter and she struggled under his grasp, gasping for air and pleading he stop.

Alberto did not stop, and Anna's eyes grew large as she noticed something she had never seen before. Alberto's teeth were long, pointed, and curved, like the stray dogs roaming the streets late at night. Focusing her eyes upon his grinning mouth, her breath caught in her throat and she struggled harder. She had married a monster! Slipping from his grasp, she grabbed sheets and held them to herself for coverage. Turning her back on the man she left in the bed made for two, she prepared to leave the room. She was stopped short as a searing pain was felt at the base of her neck, reaching to her left shoulder. Craning her neck to see what he might have thrown at her, angry for her abrupt ending, she was terrified to see silver eyes meeting hers, and the canine-like teeth digging into her back. A warm sensation was felt and she screamed, pulling away quickly and running. Reaching the door, she pulled the sheets over her and ran through the night. A white ghostly figure screaming and wailing across bridges and cobbled street. Finding a few late fishermen and their spunky wives chatting over fishing nets and a few cups of ale, she contained her sobbing, crimson bleeding upon the pristine white sheets that she held about her like a over sized towel. She pleaded, eyes wide, her words loud through tears,

" Help! Help me please! My husband has bit me! I am bleeding and I cannot stop it...please!"

And at her words, they looked at each other with a bit of a knowing expression in their eyes. It was the fatter of the two briny women who busted in laughter, followed by the other woman, then the two seamen. Their laughter made her cheeks burn and she pulled her sheets tighter about her, baffled at the laughter aimed at her. The woman cackled and croaked,

" Why, love, you're that blushing bride! Daughter of Costa? Ah, ah, don't you worry...your just not used to a man's love. It gets better after time. Beginners remorse, eh? Ah, ah love, I remember my wedding night..."

The woman trailed off into memories and Anna looked at her with wild eyes and shook her head. All's she could say was, "no, no, no" over and over. Her shoulder was burning with a mighty intensity, like sea water had been poured over it. The other woman piped up and smacked her husband for his wandering eyes.

" Listen, bambina, go home before your husband has to fetch you! You're barely clothed and your mother would be disgraced! Italian women do not run from their husbands!"

Anna backed up, shaking her head and ran again. Their laughter mocked her from afar.

Anna snapped back to reality as her name was being called. It was Alberto, her husband and Lycan born. She sat waiting for him as she was, and soon enough he had smelled her scent and found her. His tall, muscular figure appeared above the rocks. He shook his head, but a gentle smile was worn upon his handsome face. Coming down to fetch her, he lifted her small figure in his strong arms and kissed her forehead. He truly did love her, and he swore he always had and always will. He treated her well, and he was a good man, but Annabelle Giado Guiseppe Rossa felt nothing for the man who now carried her like a beloved treasure.

" Just like the night I had to fetch you, eh? Found you right here, you know? You can't run from me, mi amore, I will always find know?"

And after a gentle kiss upon her nose, he carried her back to their lovely white washed home upon the black rocks of the sea.
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