SPARTACUS; Siberian Tiger [Male]

[GREYtheFLAILER]

SPARTACUS
"I'll seek you out, flay you alive,
One more word, and you won' survive."

NAME • Spartacus
SPECIES • Feline - Tiger
BREED • White Siberian Tiger
AGE • Seven
GENDER • Male
SEXUALITY • Straight


PERSONALITY •

With a keen eye for wreaking havoc, and a discreetly sadistic, brutal nature, Spartacus is no feline to be taken lightly. He's cold, cruel, and thinks with the darkest intents in mind, at all times possible. Not only is the male one hell of a master manipulator, able to twist his words in order to work to his advantage, but the pale tiger is extremely cunning and witty, with intelligence above his years. He can come off as a very gruff, mysterious, and grave male, and though very few catch the monstrous glint within his eyes, he's certainly not one to be trusted.

Not only will the male misuse such trust, and stab you in the back with a serrated, saw-like blade, but he will take advantage of everything and everyone. He's a devious male to deal with, and if there's one thing you don't want to be caught up in, it's owing him a favor.

Now, Spartacus can be loyal, on the off-chance he actually wishes to keep on good terms with someone--but again, this is very rare. He prefers to keep to himself, and come and go as he pleases, stirring up whatever sort of hell he can in his path. He's very much like that of a stereotypical tiger, ferocious, aggressive, and mysterious, though inside, his personality is so much deeper. He's a raging sexist, feeling no female has the right to stand equal to him, and should he be challenged, the male will never back down from a fight.

Ever.

Why, might you ask? Spartacus has the experience, and he knows it. With an overly massive, agile frame armed with a set of razor-like ivories and claws, the male is no easy target. He's sarcastic and mocking, and should he get into some sort of brawl, he will take no mercy in savagely mocking the male, in order to make him succumb to his anger and strike first. As well, with his chosen victims, the male will take time in "breaking" them mentally, in hopes to corrupt the sanity of them. It's a vicious cycle, his need to hurt others in order to feel accomplished, but in all honesty, the male hardly gives a flying shit.

LIKES • Being in control of situations, tigers of the opposite gender, conflict, chaos, having an advantage
DISLIKES • Having a disadvantage, most males, when his dominance is threatened, peace, cubs (though he's had plenty)
WEAKNESSES • His constant need to be dominant, possessive, controlling, jealous
STRENGTHS • He's physically strong, mentally strong, preforms exceptionally in battle, and is undeniably cunning and manipulative
FEARS • Love, perishing unremembered

APPEARANCE •

At a staggering height of 4 feet at the shoulder, partnered with a thick, broad, muscular build, Spartacus is certainly a force to be reckoned with. His entire, massive form is littered with scars, varying in size and shape, though one wouldn't notice such details unless they were close to the male, thanks to his longer, thick fur. Fur, in this case, that is pale in color, and striped with dark brown. His eyes are a stunning, blue cerulean, and though generally speaking of his dark intentions, are certainly an eye-catcher. As well, a single, jagged scar that runs from just above his right eye down past his cheek tends to be quite memorable, to some.

PELT COLOR • White, with chocolate, brown stripes covering his entire frame
EYE COLOR • Piercing, light blue
HEIGHT • 4.0ft at the withers
WEIGHT • Approx. 664lbs
BUILD • Bulky, board, muscular
SCARS? • Hundreds; far too many to count
MARKINGS • --


HISTORY •

Despite how many may believe that, based off of a single encounter with the white tiger, he was simply born nasty; this is certainly not the case. He started out as most, mentally correct and sound tigers do, with a mother that looked after his basic need, and was there to guide him onto the path for a successful life. He was born in the wild, to two, regular, orange-coloured parents, and though his mother has never encountered such a unique color within the species, she cherished him as any loving, tender mother would. However, the male’s problems due to this uniqueness started early.

When hunting, after the male was old enough to learn to do so along with his young brother, prey would bolt, heart pounding and muscles tense, before the male could even begin to think about making a chase. His color was so blunt, so downright contrasted against the foliage background, which he, quite literally, failed miserably at catching anything despite the odd small game, which was barely satisfying. The male grew, having to depend on his mother and brother for any form of food, and though it was understandable, he slowly became absolutely disgusted with himself. The male was a hefty, muscular tiger, even at a measly 6 months old, and it was clear he was to outweigh both of his parents. And yet, he couldn’t even bring home a kill worth boasting about. Slowly, but surely, the male began to turn this incapability in on himself; soon, it began to feed off of his insecurities, like a tumour.

It didn’t take him long to snap. With an angry disposition and a wild hunger for blood, the male set out, determined to catch a kill. He wasn’t even a year old yet, however, he promised his dearest family he would return, but not without a kill he was proud to call his own. After days of hunting and catching nothing large, the male had become rather infuriated, his savage hunger only prodding the emotion into a very dangerous state. It was on his third day, hunger gnawing at his stomach, in which the male caught sight of prey. However, they were nothing like he’d ever seen before. Bigger, slower, and completely unaware.

Humans.

The male had spied a couple walking aimlessly through the brush, hands clasped in an affectionate little gesture, and immediately, his eyes alit with anticipation. He approached, slowly, carefully, and was surprised at how daft these animals were, continuing to natter amongst themselves with absolute naivety. It was when the male’s large, padded paw stepped upon a twig, cracking it, in which the couple paused. The man’s own, chocolate eyes found Spartacus’ immediately, and he froze, expression shifting to one of both awe and fear. His girlfriend inquired as to what was wrong, but quieted herself as soon as she caught sight of the massive beast before her, crouching within the protection of the brush, muscles coiled and ready.

He was a sight not many had observed before; a pale tiger. And, it was because of this in which the couple figured he might have been a captive, and rather than running, thought it might be alright to stay, and observe a little longer.

They were horrendously wrong.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the tiger lunged, front legs outstretched and claws unsheathed. He collided with the man easily, and as he’d been taught, his claws dug savagely into the man’s back as he tumbled backwards, embracing him in the most deadly of holds. The man screamed, a guttural, frightened sound, and soon enough so did the woman, though her scream was more high-pitched, and brought a sick pleasure to the tiger’s ears. As the two males tumbled to the ground, the human thrashing though unable to escape Spartacus’ hold, the tiger finally decided he’d had enough of the screaming, and bit down onto the male’s jugular. He was cut off, mid-scream.

Satisfied with himself, tail flicking back and forth, the ivory tiger turned his massive skull to see the woman fleeing, and though every instinct within his body screamed for him to dart after her, to slaughter her as well, another glance at the man, dead and mangled, was enough to force him to stay.

The male dragged the kill, easily, back to his mother and brother. They’d seemed surprised, as neither had come near a human before. It was a rather merry experience, though it only planted a single, frightening little thought within the tiger’s mind; humans were food. With his inability to catch wild game, he’d turned to the next closest thing.

From then on, humans translated to food.

It wasn’t necessarily Spartacus’ fault, however the sickening enjoyment he soon began to get from each kill was hardly natural.

Before the month’s end, the tiger had become a figure of fear amongst the nearby villages. There had been a curfew in place, and people were not allowed to venture into the brush without two other people accompanying them. Patrol officers and animal control searched months for the animal, and although the male put up a splendid fight, at only just over a year old, he was taken to captivity, with human’s blood smeared upon his muzzle.
It took seven months, before the male was placed into the custody of a rehabilitation property. Seven, long months of being cramped in a cage, and prodded at, in order to make sure he was still alive. The male was fed one, raw steak each day, and soon, Spartacus became somewhat thin, his entire day revolving around the one meal. When he did finally arrive at the center, who’d fought to keep the animal alive, he was hardly decent looking. With scars running down his face and body from the cages and animal control, his rapid loss of weight, and his very defensive, suddenly nasty nature, the male hardly looked acceptable. Or, even alive, for that matter. But, as soon as they tried to remove him, they found the fire. As soon as they attempted to slip a rope around the male’s neck, he went berserk, lashing and roaring as if ready for battle. Surprised and inspired, that is where the male’s name surfaced. He was a warrior, fighting against the odds.

Little did the humans know, he would be their own personal taste of hell.

The male gained back the weight easily, seeing as he was put on a proper diet, and after just a few months, was a full-grown, massive, muscular beast of a feline. He was the park’s one feline at the moment, and had become somewhat of a wonder, attracting tourists and people of the town alike. Perhaps this was because he was a rather wild, aggressive animal, always snarling and lunging into the fence, should people get too close.

See, this changed when four more felines arrived at the park. Two males, a lion and a tiger with aggressive tendencies, and two female tigers, both taken as their zoo no longer had room for them. With the spike of activity, Spartacus found himself rather entertained, mostly by the two females who, might I add, were caged tauntingly close to the other male tiger. The pale feline would catch glimpses of them speaking with him through the fence, or flaunting themselves to him as if they were horny, little year-olds. This irked Spartacus, and his years of growing outrage and caged madness seemed to explode one night, with his escape.

By the time the keepers arrived at morning, only the two females were left alive. Both, whom might I add, in which were impregnated with Spartacus’ children. The male tiger lay, slaughtered, upon the ground, mangled to a degree that horrified the grounds keeper. Even more surprising, the male lion’s corpse was just as messy. The fences were broken and splitting, with slashes and whatnot, as a clear indicator of the tiger’s wrath. He’d climbed over the fence into the female’s pen, taken their innocence while the other male tiger watched, before slaughtering him, and making his way into the lion’s enclosure, to make him meet the same fate. Spartacus lay, licking his chops, with the two females curled into the edge of the enclosure, seeking escape.

There was a frightening intelligence within the male, and his rather nasty, sadistic actions had everyone thoroughly confused. Animals couldn’t enjoy to kill as humans could, could they? And yet, there Spartacus was, each body untouched and undamaged.

Needless to say, with the world being devoured with the storm, he was released. And, he took little time to dally, killing every living thing in his path. He went on a rampage, needing to spill blood, before he calmed, and the killing lost its touch. After the swim the male ended up here, on Azure Isle, and has yet to make his devious reputation known.

ROLEPLAY SAMPLE •

This is from a different site. C:

.xXx. As odd as it had previously seemed to the massive, hulking ebon hellion, Faolan had not shown up to battle. He’d simply failed to be present, leaving Looking Glass standing stalk still, nares flared, atop a great hill within the Rogue Battle Grounds, eagerly awaiting the blue roan’s arrival. The old band-stallion hadn’t even bothered to give the brute any sort of warning or hint to his failing to arrive; no, instead he simply took the coward’s way out, and disappeared without a sign of his whereabouts. The reality nearly caused aggravation to boil up within Looking Glass, though he figured that this land—The Corrupt Caverns—was now within his own grasp, either way.

And, if there was one thing he was vitally aware of, it was that, even if Faolan would have shown up to battle, the outcome would have been no different.

Looking Glass made his way towards the forbidding, looming rock mountain that held each and every one of the twisting caverns within, his cerulean orbs narrowing as he let his gaze rake across the area before him, in search of any meandering herd members. He’d come across a few of them already, within the short time he’d been ruling so far, some of which he’d had mixed thoughts about, however the brute knew very well that the right thing to do in such a situation was to call a gathering of members in order to get everyone acquainted and some such shit. The stallion knew it was the only way to assign horses to new, appropriate ranks, seeing that he fully intended to drop all positions within the herd, as they all needed to be redetermined. Looking Glass knew very well Faolan must have had some “friends,” or rather “trustees,” lurking within the higher ranks, so it only seemed best for the new lead to reassign all members to new ranks. This would make sabotage nearly impossible, would it not? Exactly; Looking Glass was no fool, and knew there would be some horses out for blood, with the change.

He could deal with them personally, however.
Surely, after such a confrontation, they wouldn’t mind him being in charge.

The thought brought a little, devilish smirk to the stallion’s lips, before he dipped his head in order to slip into the mouth of the seemingly darkened cave, his large hooves clicking against the hardened, damp, rock floor as he entered. The sound echoed vaguely throughout the large, winding structure, bouncing off the walls and back again, making all attempts at being silent fail rather miserably. Looking Glass didn’t rightly need to be silent at the point in time, this he was quite aware of, though he knew to wait until he got further within the cave to make his presence very, very clearly known. Hopefully, the calling would be a surprise to some; after all, there isn’t much better than a group of confused, snivelling fools unaware of what’s going on about them. Looking Glass would have each and every one of them whipped into shape in no time at all.

With a harsh, forced snort, the male continued his way down into the depths of the cave, knowing very well he would soon be headed underground. He had never dwelled within a cave before, let alone concluded to reside in one, though took the experience by the horns, and intended to flourish within such a place. After all, it suit his personality quite well, the caverns did. The insides were dramatically darkened, nothing but a few, simple rays of light slipping in from the outside world through a hole or crack in the great rock, while the surface of the rock was somewhat damp from moisture, though still jagged and rough; dangerous. It was a place that had called to him, from the moment he’d stepped upon it’s soil, originally to offer Faolan a idea.

Let’s just say Looking Glass had gotten... greedy.

The brute finally emerged into a larger, more open cavern, in which a smaller lake sat near the back, a larger hole sheltering in a good amount of light. He walked forwards without hesitation, nares flaring to the widest of their ability and quivering with the many scents that lingered, before coming to a pause before a large ledge, his orbs feasting upon the sight. It took but a moment for the male to arch his neck and bring his front hooves from the surface below him, his back legs bunching beneath his muscular frame, before pushing off from the rock, sending his form lunging towards the rock ledge. It was a large ledge, no higher than a few feet above the floor, though Looking Glass figured he would make it obvious as to who the new lead was. His hooves came into contact with the rock as he landed, scraping and skidding along the rough surface, before the male let out yet another snort, turning in order to face the entrance in which the members would start arriving. He knew, as soon as he should call, it wouldn’t be long until the masses started to arrive; at least, if the herd was truly as large and magnificent as it had been made out to be.

The stallion jerked up his skull, lips parting in order to release a booming, ear-piercing summoning, the sound horribly demanding and unpleasant to the ears; a sign that, yes, there was a new lead within the lands. A herd member wouldn’t dare calling out with such outright dominance and urgency; it was nearly unheard of. As the stallion’s call finished he tossed his head in a rather aggressive, jerky manner, both excitement and anticipation welling up within his core. He, quite literally, couldn’t wait to take charge here, and rule the caverns as he had so longed for. “Loyal members of Corrupt Caverns, make your presence known!” He bellowed, his naturally alto, gravelly lyrics radiating with power and strength. “It is about time The Saints be run the way they were originally meant to.” He added, his voice no longer a beckoning yell, but rather a comment of truth, only for those nearby to heard.