ADOPTABLES AND CUSTOMS AT THE BOTTOM.

Yep, you have to scroll.

.:: UNI ADOPTABLES::.

<a><img src="http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm363/saigner_une/unired.png" border="0"></a>

.:: CUSTOMS ::.

<a><img src="http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm363/saigner_une/aparii.png" border="0"></a>

Kysa's Music Codes ((Okay, here's the deal. I just wasted my time on a few pathetic boards that claimed to be literate, but were really just pathetically semi-literate. I have a headache, I'm bored out of my mind, and I need some sort of literate stimulus. Thus, this is the reason this board is even in existence. I need characters that will bedazzle me with how realistic they seem, how real and raw situations can(c) be in the heat of the moment, portrayed vibrantly with simple letters. For some advice, if you're not advanced literate, I highly suggest you leave before continuing on to read the rules.)) 1, Read the title. Read it again. One more time, please. What does it say at the very end? LIT/ADV. If you are not, then you'll most definetly be booted. 2, I don't care what you are, so don't ask me. 3, No superpowerful pwn evrything in sight indestructables. They just kill the mood. 4, No over-frilly characters...like, dazzlepop sparkle princess who wants to set the unicorns free. (c) I mean, because really. This board isn't for that kind of bogus. 5, I allow relationships, but please, keep the 'close interactions' to NM's. 6, To join, and for this board to properly function, you MUST agree and uphold this oath: 'I agree to not report any member of this board, because I fully understand it is for the more mature specimens of humanity, and that mature content WILL (c) possibly occur, and I also understand that by making this oath I have the freedom to let my imagination roam without the worry of being reported, because by making this oath I swear to not report any other members no matter how vulgar of content they may post. Basically, you don't squeal on me, I won't on you.' 7, Only AFTER it's clear you'll uphold my rules will I allow you to join! (c) 8, Rules are tough, especially if they're mine. So I allow some leway...but if I give you an inch, don't take a friggin' mile. 9, Have fun. Obviously no chatspeak, and for OOC use { },( ), or (( )). 10, There will be a intro-posting order. Once you're accepted to join, you will be given a number, and when it's called, that's when you'll be allowed to post your character(s) intro.(c) 11, Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Which of course, isn't saying much, but don't just completely humiliate yourself. Honestly, you'd be suprised at how many people just come on her to goof off. Oh, and I WILL be the only one reporting if it is clear that the person is spamming, and they will recieve THREE CLEAR WARNINGS beforehand. That is all. Now...that wasn't so bad, now was it?)) Where was he going? He didn't know. Somewhere far. Somewhere where the moon's caress couldn't touch him. Where his thirst for blood and carnage couldn't sway him. Where such a hybrid beast could exist harmoniously with the world. A shift. A scent. The sudden howl that spiraled through the air, that shot a familiar tingle trailing up his spine. Danm. He threw his head back, a howl bulging in the depths of his throat. Should he release it? How could he not? The piercing noise erupted with the power of a thousand suns, the noise ancient and spiraling as it continued to rise, flowing out of his being, the tune an eerie mix between the howl of a beast and the cry of a man. It was sheer impulse that made him do such a thing; to howl. Even if the pack who did the first call was unknown, an ancient such as he had a code that rang though his bones, forcing him to respond. An immediate response to his. By the pitch, it sounded female. And to the North. Before he started forewards, another howl escaped his lips, accompanied by a soft whine. He wanted to run, but walked instead, in the general direction. The soles of his shoes seemed too tight for comfort suddenly, and with it, Drakonerr began to run...the ground hard and unforgiving beneath his feet. As he hit a patch of decent earth, his form seemed to shimmer and cringe as he changed, shrinking in size slightly, popping as bones shifted, lengthening...becoming a wolf. Every shift of muscle, every brush of his clothes agitated him with the strange existence of hating this form. This form, whose hooded jacket left his face shrouded in a cloak of shadow. This form, that always seemed so awkwardly slow and unnatural a thing for a creature that had to go about existing upright on two limbs. It was somewhat awkward, to say the least. His tall, chistled frame, 6'4" to be exact, seemed to droop with exaustion, causing his broad shoulders to sag and his overall posture to hang as if strung up by the spine. But Drakonerr wasn't burdened with a physical fatigue, no. It was one a heavy heart brought, or a mind burdened with serious issues...perhaps mental instability. But then again, this wasn't a reality that was new for him. If his face was visible, one could see high cheekbones...a smooth jawline, accompanied by minor features one couldn't pinpoint, but made you stare at his face trying to figure out what gave him such a poetically gorgeous appearance. A waterfall of crimson hair that strangely faded out to white at the tips was pulled loosely back within the hood, hiding it from whatever might have been looking at him. Skin that had no color to it whatsoever caused people to think he was deathly ill, with some sort of bug that would infect the inside and eat it's way out, showing the destruction on it's victim by draining every and all hints of life from the unlucky bloke. If one were to lie their head against his chest, say in a soft dance that required such bodily contact, only the soft rise and fall would be present. But, his most stunning feature would have to be his eyes. Acidically neon blue globes of liquid pain glared ahead of him, not fixed on one perticular thing as he silently treaded a path through the thicket of the woods. If someone were to come upon him and slice his pale skin, they'd be surprised to be denied the greeting of the blossom of red that's normally accompanied with a puncture. You see, tendrilly black strands laced through his veins, contracting and releasing to force whatever ebony blood was present in his form, to make up for a perticular beating muscle. Wounds literally knitted themselves with the same spiderwebby strands that slithered through his pulse, giving him an immortal edge to life. Ironic, really, that he couldn't die, and the only thing keeping him on this earth was to find a reason to end his existence. Of course, other factors rise with this conclusion. As in, can a literally heartless beast like himself find it in his subcinciousness to experiment with the word 'love,' that his prey so easily tossed around? Killing was either a sickening experience or an emotionless one. He either hated himself for slaughtering something that had a face that cried up at his gorgeous form, or he was cold and heartless as stone as the deed was done, him returning to the same pack only to start the proccess over once again and slowly pick off of the human race the most easily caught beings desperate to feel needed. That is what he was. A monster, that lured in whoever or whatever would come close enough to let him strike... ...for mercy was