Post by Lexiss on Jul 13, 2009 15:46:36 GMT -6
Will make account when he is accepted
If unsuccessful as leader, I will be resubmitting him as a Warrior (with changes).
And is it okay for him to be a mentor to my already accepted character, Lexiss?
See? We Do Exist
DARE TO EXPLORE?
He sunk his talons into the soft bark of the tree branch, his eyes narrowed, and his head sunk a little. The horns on his head twitched, and his ears gained freedom to hear the flock as they muttered. Some doubted him, that he knew, and others would wonder. Even more would be unhappy. So many were already displeased with him; Thoma knew he would face rebellion if this fight went through successfully. He felt the digits in his talons flex, eagerly awaiting a signal.
A warrior with a maple branch attempted to hover between the two trees. Thoma was perched on one side of the airspace, and the current Ithila Leader was in the opposite tree. The warrior looked stressed, glancing cautiously between the two. He did not want there to be death, and Thoma could see it in his eyes. Him, like so many others in the flock, feared for their Leader’s life. When Thoma had earned the rank as a Second, he had been rather brutal. Perhaps a little too much… He reminded himself that the old eagle would’ve died from his injuries anyway.
“Ready, Thoma? Ready, Taliya?”
“Ready.”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Came her voice from across the clearing. Thoma felt his gizzard stir in anticipation. The warrior let loose a shaky breath, uncertain of the outcome like everyone else. Leader Taliya wasn’t in her best of shape, and she was four kilograms heavier than Thoma, a great disadvantage at her end. Yet, her wingspan wasn’t much bigger, her length, not that much longer. Their gap in measurements wouldn’t matter on the battlefield – weight was everything.
“Three, two, go!” And the warrior, a falcon, tossed the maple branch into the air, and let it fall. He zoomed out of the way (with speeds only a falcon could manage), and Taliya went into the air with a flap of her wings. Where her wings made an echoing crack! against the air, Thoma came out of his tree as quiet as a ghost. Even Taliya knew that owls were formidable opponents; their hooked feathers were the nightmare of all prey. It was those hooked feathers that allowed the air to not be stirred, and for them to be as hushed as leaves.
She had a beak as sharp as a blade, and Thoma knew this. Her talons, if they wrapped around his head, would crush his skull. She had taken down wolves on the mainland. She had fought off bears. Goat skeletons lined cliff floors because of her. She was everything in strength, and her leadership abilities were brilliant. Her cry sent shivers down his spine. His rasp was nothing compare to her’s.
They were soon specs in the sky compared to those on the ground. Nothing like blood or feathers had yet been shed, though they often passed each other and attempted to grab with talons and their beaks. For now, they were attempting to gain height on each other, climbing and climbing into the sky, as if a ladder was there, readily available. This was where Thoma worried. His softer feathers were not meant to bring him so high, and she was smoothly rising up the warm currents of air.
It soon became clear that he would not have altitude on his side for this battle, and he stopped his ascent, riding a current that brought him in gentle circles. Briefly, butterflies crowded his gizzard, but he swallowed them down. Nerves were not allowed to participate in his conquest. Taliya looked down, and a gleam caught her eye. Quickly, she angled out her body, and Thoma grumbled. Shifting his weight, he spread out his end primary feathers to angle himself out. When she dived, he caught her talons in his, and they plummeted.
This act… This style… it was called Whirling. And Thoma knew why. The two of them, locked at the talons, would grip to each other, their wings pulled away from their bodies with the force of the wind, and the ground would rush up to meet them. However, both of their grips were slack, each one out of practice. Thoma shifted his weight just slightly, allowing her heavier self to become beneath him. An unstable current forced them to separate, and he was able to climb again. This time, he was able to gain more height on her. He had made sure that he wouldn’t have to take the time to right himself, and the force of their break had allowed him to parachute upward. The bones in his wings were aching, but he had longed for this day! No one here was going to see if let it go.
Taliya looked furious, but her eyes were hard and steady. She was calculating him, watching him, and preparing for his attack. Thoma knew he could fly above her all day, and she would never try and come to him. He was on top, he had the advantage. It was his turn to demonstrate his dominance. A thrill filled him, his heat beat sped up, and he dived for her, grabbing her talons, and yanking her from the sky.
Up, up, up came the Earth. Their bodies were sent into a spiraling descent, grabbing each other as tight as they could. Thoma had no plans to let go, but as the trees came closer, he realized that letting go would allow him to survive another day, and to challenge her again. Instead, he steeled himself. His mind was set – it was do, or die.
Or do and die.
With the tree tops just yards away, the flock growing closer and closer, and the air currents growing colder and colder, they shared a look that Thoma had never shared with anyone else.
“Look after them.” Taliya hissed, “Or I will claim back my flock.” Thoma blinked, unsure of what she meant. His spine felt tingly, his feathers felt like they were going to be striped from him… And then, the weight was gone. She had let go…
Didn’t that mean he had won?
YES!!
Before he could celebrate and rejoice in his success, they fell into the trees, both of them knocked unconscious when they hit heavy branches. But oh, rejoice to Skyflock! It had been a sweet, glorious moment. [/size][/blockquote]
If unsuccessful as leader, I will be resubmitting him as a Warrior (with changes).
And is it okay for him to be a mentor to my already accepted character, Lexiss?
See? We Do Exist
Name: ThomaPhysical Description
Nickname: Tom
Species: Bubo virginianus
Gender: male
Seasons: Twenty-one
Flock: Ithila
Element: Fire
Rank: Leader - Warrior
Personality
Thoma is a white phase Great Horned Owl, meaning he comes more from the north than others his own species. He blends in perfectly with the birch trees, and his feathers consist of whites and grays in a sort of scaling pattern. Inside the facial disc, like little hooks around his eyes, are strips of soft cream. The disc itself is outlined in a dark grey on the top, which descends to a softer grey at the bottom. His dark beak hides among the bristles of his face, and his red eyes appear even darker under a heavy forehead. The cere is completely hidden.
The crown of Thoma holds profound barring, switching back and forth from a brown-black to off-white in such quick patterns, we can’t tell the difference from one bar onto the next. The tuffs, or ‘horns’, come out, slightly slanted, from above the eyes and ears. They are creamy and brown, and most of all, menacing. They look out of place on Thoma, giving his crown a kingly appearance, too kingly of an appearance.
Semiplumes feathers, white at the bottom and a fuzzy brown at the ends, cover Thoma’s breast like a blanket. They fluff to let out the heat, and close to keep out the cold. Descending to the belly, the semiplumes suddenly stop, replaced by stiffer, neater, contour feathers. These melt together, each one containing a unique pattern of white and grey with stripes of auburn that peek up near the shaft. At the flanks, the feather’s whites turn to tans, and the auburn fades to black.
The remiges contour feathers of his wings actually resemble more of a typical Great Horned Owl, except they are interrupted by white quite often. Along the coverts, spots of bright orange often show themselves on the upper sides. Darker browns, like coffee, and blacks, like the beans, run in wild, ragged bars that are thin like veins. Similar bars of white interrupt the otherwise colourful display. On the secondary and primary feathers on the upper side, they are mostly black and white, a regular pattern of justice, and a show of wonder when in flight.
The under side of these flight feathers are in a barred pattern, switching from russet to ashen quickly, with no variety in colouration. The stiffer rectrices of the tail are done in much the same way, with only six darker bars and a totally black tip. The coverts of the tail are nearly solid grey, though they may change colour when he next molts.
Thoma has gray scales underneath the tarsus’ feathers, due to his phase. His talons are just as sharp as ever, though, and he knows how to use them well. They also take up an ashen look.
Currently;;
Length is sixty centimeters
Wingspan is one hundred forty-nine centimeters
Weight is one thousand sixty-five grams
History
He will admit it even to himself: he is a cold-hearted bastard set for the Deadwell. No place in Skyflock has been set for him, and he knows his place belongs as a beast of rage and anger. However, there is more to him than that. More to him than an anger issue and a burning gaze of red. He takes no command but his own, and is loyal only to himself and those who follow beneath him. Nothing describes and summons up Thoma – he deserves more, and is more, than anything can ever hope to achieve.
Honest;;
His honesty can barely be called honest. He will often lie to get his way, but he has a way of spreading about an almost brutal truth. If something has a fault, he will be quick to find it. He expects perfection, and will be critical in his judgment. Whenever asked for his opinion, Thoma won’t hold back on an analysis, unless he sees benefit in lying.
Willful;;
Determined to always do his best, Thoma borders on headstrong with how much will he has. He always works alone, refusing to confess that someone might be his equal. From that, he will probably never fly with anyone – such commitment would mean that he did think of someone on the same level as himself. Thoma, obviously, will never be prepared for that. However, he prepares for everything else, each and every plan written out in his head. He reviews them often, too.
Independent;;
Peculiarly independent, Thoma wishes to work alone, unless numbers are needed. His ideas belong only to him, and he doesn’t share them no matter what. While he may express his opinion and factual information, he holds close his own imagination and creativity.
Intelligent;;
If there is to be any good trait of his, it’s this one. His intellectual level isn’t from only experience, but from knowledge gained from others and seeking out the truth. Often times, he arrives at any one conclusion by himself. Thoma’s mind is a thing of wonder, a beauty to behold when at work. Yet, it works all the time, constantly ticking away like a clock that has been over wound. Rarely does anyone see him quietly thinking.
Cautious;;
Alert is probably not a big enough word for Thoma’s constant paranoia. Constantly looking over his shoulder, rooting around for spies, and taking extra caution in patrols and guards allows himself to calm down. A messenger would warn him, the warriors will come back. Nothing settles Thoma down completely, but he knows that it’ll be a matter of time before something knocks him off his high perch.
Temper;;
Thoma has a horrifying temper. Not at all patient, he insists that everything will be done perfectly and orderly, and if the way that he desires. When something is lost, especially other birds, he can rage and cause injury. Lexiss is currently the main cause for most of his strife nowadays; the fledging wanders off, and sometimes, does not come back, and he must look for him. Normally, Thoma can calm himself down, and his fits of rage rarely get violent or last long. But, to be sure, you might want to back up a little.
Firm;;
A firm talon never hurt anyone, and Thoma certainly has one. He can be demanding and harsh, but he never over does it. Regularly, he checks up on ones strengths and weaknesses, applying everyone to tasks that they can do, and if lucky, they enjoy doing. He demands a lot, and expects more than just loyalty; but a firm hand was how many other leaders have led before. It never hurt anyone, yet it could cause a revolt if one is not careful.
Insane;;
Not always, but Thoma certainly isn’t in his right head. When his temper flares the most, it shows itself, his eyes gaining a mad glint, his feathers becoming ruffled and sticking out in all directions. The horns on his crown point way up, higher than normal, and his eyes seem alert to everything around him. Thoma doesn’t do an evil laugh – but he seems a little off when he is battle ready.
Manipulative;;
This, my friend, is a classic weaver of truth, lies, and trickery. Plans and plots may take seasons to fall through, but he conceals the pit with more than just leaves, and digs the hole deeper than the core of the Earth. By the time anybird realizes they’re falling, it may be too late to fly back out. He’s subtle with words and hints, and only the young and innocent can look straight through him. Thoma exaggerates, almost brings satire, out of what the truth really is.
Protective;;
Despite being rather heartless, this owl holds his flock dear to heart, and cares for them greatly. No one knows if it’s because they are his followers, or if it’s because he really cares for them. If laying down his life meant saving all of their lives, he would gladly (with some regrets), do so.
Thoma’s name has a rather sinister story behind it. The name Thomas, after all, means “Twin”. And indeed…he was one.
Thomas was his twin, and his own name was Thoma, both named after their father, Tom. Their mother was rather obsessed with the other owl, who was a brown phase Great Horned. Who ever taught her that it was okay to name her only chicks after him needed to be taught a valuable lesson. At least, that was how Thoma saw it. He hated being named after such a…repugnant bird. Tom sr. had thought of himself as an upper class type of character, one with authority, and one that knew everything. Both fledglings despised it, but accepted it – this was the male that she had chosen to connect herself with. This was the male that was their father. But this was also the same male who left their mother for a prettier bird.
Where Thomas was the calm and gentle, Thoma was angry and harsh. They were opposites, as Thoma was his mother’s colouring and Thomas’ his father’s. They were twins in every way but a few. Their views on life agreed, that it was not worth living in a tree and love would never be enough to satisfy. To satisfy what… They did not yet know.
Thoma learned to fly first, as his wings were larger than his brother’s. His feathers molted first, and he gained his horns first. He was the older of the two of them, though they had hatched on the same day. They were, however, appointed Hunters on the same day, and in turn, Warriors under the same moon. Their mother had fallen ill to her obsession, and while both admitted that she had gone quite insane in her final moments, Ishia had been a good mother. She had kept the warm, fed, and happy. She had taught them to fly, to hunt, to hoot, and to correctly preen their flight feathers. One glance to each other and they both new – their father must pay for his neglect.
To this day, no one knows what happen to the conceited Great Horned known as Tom. His mate and child have gone missing also – and all of them were stuck-up snobs who nobody really missed.
Sometime later, Thomas and Thoma parted ways. Thomas had become a messenger, while Thoma sought out a position of more power. The fire within him burned and raged – it wanted to consume, and it was slowly consuming him. As time passed, he became the oldest of the warriors at eighteen seasons, and he challenged the flocks’ second to a battle.
Oh, how he had loved tearing out the fiend’s liver. Besides, the old bird hadn’t deserved his position; the leader was younger than he was! The fight itself had been less than lovely, and Thoma has only eleven tail feathers to prove he fought.
Less than four seasons later, he met up again with Thomas, who he laid his plans out to. It was Thoma’s desire to be Leader, to be able to take over while he could. For once, though, Thomas disagreed.
“It isn’t like you to be this arrogant, Thoma… Please, be careful. Or you’ll end up like Him.”
But Thoma refused to end up like his father. He also refused to listen to his twin’s advice, and so, went up against his Leader with a hiss and a snarl on his beak. His eyes had blazed brightly, and behind him, the Hunter that he was mentoring, gazed around him to stare. Lexiss was a sweet, little falconet, but he would never understand the importance of position and dominance until he was much older. He was too naïve, too innocent.
The last leader wasn’t dead, oh no. Just… defeated. Newly defeated.
OOC Name: Jairel
DARE TO EXPLORE?
Bio||-Thoma-[/b]
He sunk his talons into the soft bark of the tree branch, his eyes narrowed, and his head sunk a little. The horns on his head twitched, and his ears gained freedom to hear the flock as they muttered. Some doubted him, that he knew, and others would wonder. Even more would be unhappy. So many were already displeased with him; Thoma knew he would face rebellion if this fight went through successfully. He felt the digits in his talons flex, eagerly awaiting a signal.
A warrior with a maple branch attempted to hover between the two trees. Thoma was perched on one side of the airspace, and the current Ithila Leader was in the opposite tree. The warrior looked stressed, glancing cautiously between the two. He did not want there to be death, and Thoma could see it in his eyes. Him, like so many others in the flock, feared for their Leader’s life. When Thoma had earned the rank as a Second, he had been rather brutal. Perhaps a little too much… He reminded himself that the old eagle would’ve died from his injuries anyway.
“Ready, Thoma? Ready, Taliya?”
“Ready.”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Came her voice from across the clearing. Thoma felt his gizzard stir in anticipation. The warrior let loose a shaky breath, uncertain of the outcome like everyone else. Leader Taliya wasn’t in her best of shape, and she was four kilograms heavier than Thoma, a great disadvantage at her end. Yet, her wingspan wasn’t much bigger, her length, not that much longer. Their gap in measurements wouldn’t matter on the battlefield – weight was everything.
“Three, two, go!” And the warrior, a falcon, tossed the maple branch into the air, and let it fall. He zoomed out of the way (with speeds only a falcon could manage), and Taliya went into the air with a flap of her wings. Where her wings made an echoing crack! against the air, Thoma came out of his tree as quiet as a ghost. Even Taliya knew that owls were formidable opponents; their hooked feathers were the nightmare of all prey. It was those hooked feathers that allowed the air to not be stirred, and for them to be as hushed as leaves.
She had a beak as sharp as a blade, and Thoma knew this. Her talons, if they wrapped around his head, would crush his skull. She had taken down wolves on the mainland. She had fought off bears. Goat skeletons lined cliff floors because of her. She was everything in strength, and her leadership abilities were brilliant. Her cry sent shivers down his spine. His rasp was nothing compare to her’s.
They were soon specs in the sky compared to those on the ground. Nothing like blood or feathers had yet been shed, though they often passed each other and attempted to grab with talons and their beaks. For now, they were attempting to gain height on each other, climbing and climbing into the sky, as if a ladder was there, readily available. This was where Thoma worried. His softer feathers were not meant to bring him so high, and she was smoothly rising up the warm currents of air.
It soon became clear that he would not have altitude on his side for this battle, and he stopped his ascent, riding a current that brought him in gentle circles. Briefly, butterflies crowded his gizzard, but he swallowed them down. Nerves were not allowed to participate in his conquest. Taliya looked down, and a gleam caught her eye. Quickly, she angled out her body, and Thoma grumbled. Shifting his weight, he spread out his end primary feathers to angle himself out. When she dived, he caught her talons in his, and they plummeted.
This act… This style… it was called Whirling. And Thoma knew why. The two of them, locked at the talons, would grip to each other, their wings pulled away from their bodies with the force of the wind, and the ground would rush up to meet them. However, both of their grips were slack, each one out of practice. Thoma shifted his weight just slightly, allowing her heavier self to become beneath him. An unstable current forced them to separate, and he was able to climb again. This time, he was able to gain more height on her. He had made sure that he wouldn’t have to take the time to right himself, and the force of their break had allowed him to parachute upward. The bones in his wings were aching, but he had longed for this day! No one here was going to see if let it go.
Taliya looked furious, but her eyes were hard and steady. She was calculating him, watching him, and preparing for his attack. Thoma knew he could fly above her all day, and she would never try and come to him. He was on top, he had the advantage. It was his turn to demonstrate his dominance. A thrill filled him, his heat beat sped up, and he dived for her, grabbing her talons, and yanking her from the sky.
Up, up, up came the Earth. Their bodies were sent into a spiraling descent, grabbing each other as tight as they could. Thoma had no plans to let go, but as the trees came closer, he realized that letting go would allow him to survive another day, and to challenge her again. Instead, he steeled himself. His mind was set – it was do, or die.
Or do and die.
With the tree tops just yards away, the flock growing closer and closer, and the air currents growing colder and colder, they shared a look that Thoma had never shared with anyone else.
“Look after them.” Taliya hissed, “Or I will claim back my flock.” Thoma blinked, unsure of what she meant. His spine felt tingly, his feathers felt like they were going to be striped from him… And then, the weight was gone. She had let go…
Didn’t that mean he had won?
YES!!
Before he could celebrate and rejoice in his success, they fell into the trees, both of them knocked unconscious when they hit heavy branches. But oh, rejoice to Skyflock! It had been a sweet, glorious moment. [/size][/blockquote]