#lycanthrope verse tbt

[azure-steel]

@neko-mun-rp - Plotted rp

It was always so boring during the day. With Sephiroth sleeping away his latest meal Cloud was usually left to his own devices, which... was rarely a good thing lately. The restlessness was beginning to get the better of him these days and finding himself at a loose end during these dull periods was beginning to grate on him something fierce. 

He could go out on his own to hunt in the surrounding woodland, had done countless times before, but it was no fun when no one was around to present his latest kill. So he’d just ramble aimlessly around the manor looking for something, anything to do. 

He’d tried reading one of the many books Sephiroth had collected over the years, with no joy. Had even tried to just nap here, there, under the kitchen table, on that nice rug in the living quarters where he’d been told countless times not to - but what the vampire didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right? even though he always found evidence that Cloud had been in places he shouldn’t. 

But it was when he’d found the rat in the basement where things started to go a little pear shaped that day. What had started off as a simple game of ‘chase the vermin’ had quickly dissolved into a frantic hunt as the slippery creature darted up the sloping stone steps into the main house. Cloud hadn’t truly realised at that point as he’s tearing through the rooms, overcome with a rare bout of excitement, that he’d taken on his beast form, claws scratching at the polished wood, knocking expensive vases from cabinet tops in the hallways, and shredding old antique rugs underfoot. 

But he’d caught the damn thing eventually, crunching the bones of the poor creature between his jaws. That was until the distinctive footsteps of his companion came padding into the room. Needless to say, as usual, Cloud was completely blind to the carnage he’d caused, yet he lay there on the kitchen floor after devouring his morsel of a kill, wagging happily just clearly pleased to see that Sephiroth was finally awake. In that moment it felt like weeks since he’d seen him last and that was all that mattered in that one moment. 

[azure-steel]

I know we’re all guilty of imagining werewiffy Cloud as this cute fluffy boy with soft ears. But even partially transformed, this ‘cute fluffy boy’ will bite your face right off 😊

[azure-steel]

@oflockhearted​ closed rp Lycanthrope verse.

With the fall of kingdoms came the dissolution of borders, and he had lived through many wars to come to appreciate the value of true freedom of movement. It would not last forever and finding a den to call his own was a craving all consuming. 

The last of his pack, Cloud was beginning to find it difficult to find his place in this world where the lust for power overwhelmed the basic instincts to merely survive. Countless times had he wandered between territories of rampant Lycan groups set ready to tear both he and his beloved familiar to shreds were he to not heed their marks engraved and sprayed along the trees of the extensive undergrowth. And established packs very rarely took on new recruits for the risk of disrupting the delicate hierarchy. 

Almost all castle grounds accommodated their resident pack, so it was merely by chance, after months of wandering the continent, that Cloud happened across a castle ruin, its surrounding wood seemingly unoccupied by any worthy predators. Deer, rabbits and rats were abundant, all worthy meals and all satisfying the need to hunt, the very former so docile however that hunting them was a little too easy. Though it should be noted, a single deer fed both he and his familiar for the best part of three days, so that was something. Plus when the meat began to fester, that was when it was always at its most delectable~ 

Night’s were spent on the hunt while the days they spent lazily snoozing within the confines of an old re-dug fox den, long abandoned by its former occupants beneath the largest, thickest sequoia, huddled together in the dirt. There really was nothing finer; a place to call their own. 

There was the odd whiff of death that floated through the wood on occasion, distinctive enough to allow the wolf-kin cause for pause. There was a vampire in their midst. Cloud knew it to be too good to be true; the very reason a pack was not established here being the mere presence of a vile blood sucker. History itself had taught the lycanthrope that vampires were bad news and to avoid them at all costs. But after so long on the road, simply looking for a place to hunt and thrive in peace, Cloud was reluctant to uproot. He and Fenrir would simply have to stay on their guard and hope the forest was dense enough to keep them hidden from the view of the nearby ruin; no doubt the throne of this area’s Vampiric monarch. 

It was during this particular evening that Cloud was proven wrong; that pungent stench of dead things wafting through the thicket, so strong tonight the Lycan couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose up at it, though did his best to ignore it.  

The preparation for that night’s hunt was underway, simply waiting for the last of the ancient sun’s rays to die on the horizon casting the wood in thick shadow. And he rested against the sequoia’s trunk, watching idly as Fenrir nosed around the grasses and shrubs, chuckling softly as the dire-wolf growled menacingly at the insects he disturbed. 

“Bugs ain’t afraid of you, big guy, save it for the hunt,” Cloud deadpans, though his voice perked at the wolf’s ears and prompted him to trot over and force his massive head into Cloud’s cheek, coupled with an approving whine, as though he too were laughing at his own antics just now. The blond laughs again, an amused nasal huff as he buries gloved hands into that deceptively soft black fur, lilting his head to touch his brow upon the other’s in his own gesture of affection. From the outside looking in, one would think they were spying a man with his pet, but it went deeper than that. Fenrir, was his hunting companion, his familiar where strange powers resided within the unbreakable bond they shared. What Cloud felt, Fenrir would feel too and vice versa be that physical or otherwise. 

Less a master and his hound, more brothers. A strange concept to most, though not to Lycan kind. 

Then came the tell-tale snap of a twig from the rear, and the sudden freezing of blood in his veins. The wolf, his golden eyes gazing over Cloud’s shoulder, emits a low rumbling growl when the man suddenly realises that stench from earlier is getting stronger. Fear grips him then, an audible swallow as he signals to Fenrir with little more than a quick dart of his own bright azure eyes to investigate, and as the beast darts into the underbrush Cloud makes his way along the edge of the sequoia, keeping low as he peers into the black shadows of the wood. Sharp claws sink into the tree’s thick bark, fur already bristling through his flesh, senses attuning to the thing that approached. 

They were being watched... and not by any deer. 

The monarch of this land was investigating it seemed. 

[azure-steel]

Title speaks for itself!

If ya’ll wanna play with the AU woofy boy, click dat lil heart in the corner. Multi’s please specify a muse.  And if you’d prefer to plot a thing, comment below and I’ll come invade some IM’s!

[azure-steel]

Lycanthrope Verse

Birth Name: Cloud Strife Name of Legend (devised by humans): Kuraudo the Starving. Race: Lycanthrope. Current age: Unknown though exceeding 200 years.  Familiar: A male dire-wolf named Fenrir. 

Headcanons: 

In his beast form, Cloud’s pelt shines a brilliant gold, an unusual colouring for a werewolf. He was often hunted in ages past when spotted in the wilds in this form, many of the humans inhabiting the villages of the time believing the gold pelt honed magical healing powers gifted from the sun. 

Contrary to popular belief the moon has no effect on Cloud’s transformations. He is able to change at will, though there is a dire cost to pay if he is to remain in his beast form for prolonged periods of time. The mind is weak to the call of the hunt and to spend too long as a beast means one will be trapped in that form until the day he dies. Cloud is very careful not to allow that to happen. 

Silver is still an effective weapon to use against him. Though not deadly it will make him extremely sick if it was to stay in the body for too long. 

He is able to see through the eyes of his familiar on occasion. Though this special ability, which can only be formed between a lycanthrope and his bonded familiar, takes up a lot of energy and concentration to perform, it is especially helpful on hunts. 

Lycanthropes have extremely long lifespans and age very slowly. Meaning Cloud has lived through many wars and lost many close to him over that time making him weary of forging new bonds for the fear of losing them through age. 

Like all canines Cloud hones exceptional hearing and a finely tuned sense of smell. He is able to predict changes in the weather simply by the scents in the air. Amongst... other... things... 

Other than their bonded familiar, Lycanthropes are naturally solitary creatures and often keep to themselves where possible. Cloud holds no desire to become part of a pack as rare as they are. 

The name Kuraudo the Starving was born during an uprising war between the Lycanthrope and Vampire factions. So brutal was he towards his enemy that people (both vampires and the humans those stories reached) believed him to have devoured countless vampires in that war, the blood of his meals staining his usually stunning blond coat a filthy black. The rumours are only a part truth. Though he did have a hand in violently killing many of his enemies, Cloud did not eat any of the remains yet the name stuck regardless. 

[azure-steel]

Verse: Lycanthrope Verse (AU) ~ Name: Fenrir Et Cessabit (Fenrir The Calm)  Species:  Aenocyon dirus - Dire Wolf Status: Familiar Companion: Kuraudo Et Fame-Pereo (Kuraudo The Starving) - Alias: Cloud Strife

Origins: Legend tells of a dreadful creature birthed from the depths of Gaia’s wetlands; a terrible beast known as the Fen Dweller or Fenrisúlfr. Credited for the creation of the Wolves blood which taints the veins of man and laid the foundations for the reign of the Lycan, Fenrisúlfr (Shortened over the centuries to Fenrir) is commonly believed to be the father to all wolfen-kin doomed for eternity to serve man and Lycanthrope alike as punishment after his attempt to devour the summon Odin ultimately failed. He is said to have been fetted by mortal men in the depths of the lifestream. This tallest of tales, of course, is considered little more than a myth. 

Though given the pack mentality of Lycan, much like their canine counterparts, the notion of servitude is replaced with that of a hierarchy where each member does not serve the Alpha of the group but has their own part to play in the maintenance of an established pack. Familiars are less pets to a Lycan and more an equal companion; a familiar, which embodies the more primal aspects of their bonded Lycanthrope. An extension of the other as it were.  

Fenrir Et Cessbit (Otherwise known as Fenrir The Calm) is believed to be a direct descendant of Fenrisúlfr himself and was gifted the name Fenrir in honour of the old Demi God birthed in the fens due to his enormous size. It is unclear how, why or when the bonding between Fenrir Et Cessbit and Kuraudo Et Fame-Pereo (Kuraudo The Starving) took place. Though tales tell that Kuraudo - otherwise known as Cloud, as is his preference - was abandoned as a youngster and was taken in by Fenrir and his pack to be raised as one of their own kin, thus turning his blood. 

Fenrir is known to be younger than his Lycan brethren by a good number of years so, this tale is wholly untrue even if the facts remain shrouded in mystery. 

General Appearance: Fenrir is generally wolf like in appearance but is much larger and broader than his typical wolfly cousins. Dire Wolves are rare, once thought to be extinct so it isn’t unusual for his sheer bulk to startle even the most experienced traveller or hunter. He has pitch black fur and amber eyes. 

Personality/mannerisms: There’s a reason Fenrir is accompanied by the name Calm. An exceptionally skilled hunter, territorial and protective to a fault, Fenrir is naturally docile in manner and will only show signs of aggression if he or his companion are under threat. He would rather play than fight.