TORAK; Polar Bear [Male]

[GREYtheFLAILER]

TORAK
"Counting bodies like sheep,
to the rhythm of war drums."

NAME • Torak
SPECIES • Bear
BREED • Polar Bear
AGE • Six
GENDER • Male
SEXUALITY • Straight


PERSONALITY •

Torak is certainly one hell of a hardened individual, even at only six years old. Due to his past, the bear has been forced to mature at a very rapid, unnatural rate, and because of this he has become a very guarded, cold, and unforgiving individual. He tends to be on the quiet side; observing the ones around him, rather then provoking conversation, though as soon as he gets angered, he has somewhat of an explosive temper. He has little experience in keeping his emotions controlled, so it's not unusual to see him succumb to his emotions, in wild acts of anger and/or lust. He's weak and inexperienced when it comes to females, and should he be tempted, it would prove very difficult to keep himself in check.

Now, Torak isn't one to crack a smile very often. He's rigid and stiff, never partaking in physical contact aside from sex, as he tends to be a rather rough, abrupt male. He refuses to get close to anyone and views it as dangerous, and in all truthfulness, entirely fears love. He feels emotion is weakness, and chooses not to feel them. That, of course, excluding anger and lust. Those are the only emotions he feels are acceptable, and won't cause him harm.

Now, should Torak get close to anyone, like most of the members in the tribe, he gets very, very protective over them. Should he feel threatened he will act outwardly and aggressively, without thinking whatsoever. He'll die for the ones he cares for, and will stay loyal until the end. However, it's getting close to him that's the hard part. It takes a lot for the male to bother to care about someone, so as you can imagine, it would take a hell of a lot of work.

Now, Torak's a skilled fighter, not in the technical area, but rather in resourcefulness, experience, and ability to read a threat. It also tends to help that he's unnaturally massive compared to the general population, and a single swipe from one of his massive paws could shred someone apart. He's physically strong and he knows it, and will display his dominance should someone come across as a threat to him.

LIKES • At least 3
DISLIKES • At least 3
WEAKNESSES • At least 2
STRENGTHS • At least 2
FEARS • At least 1

APPEARANCE •

Topping the charts with a massive 5.3 feet at the shoulder, as well as weighing in at approximately 1, 500lbs, Torak is certainly one to be wary of. He's built with a very stocky and hulking build; one that was created from strength and durability, rather than speed or stamina. Scars mar his entire body, the most prominent being the one slicing down the side of his face, all from his career as a circus bear. The male's eyes are a light, bright blue, surprisingly for the species, however aren't nearly brimming with warmth. They speak only of his cold attitude towards everyone and everything, and often have a rather frightening aspect to them.

PELT COLOR • White, creme
EYE COLOR • Blue
HEIGHT • 9ft tall, when standing upright; 63in (5.3ft) at the shoulder
WEIGHT • Approx. 1, 500lbs
BUILD • Massive; stocky and broad, though very muscular
SCARS? • Several, most gathering around his shoulders, ribcage, and hindquarters; however, the most noticeable would be one massive scar stretching from his forehead to his cheek
MARKINGS • --


HISTORY •

At one point, Torak did know happiness; he knew what it felt like to love, and be love ferociously in return. That, however, was six long years ago, when the massive male was a mere cub, and in the care of his tender mother. Memories of his time spent with her still linger, barely, though they are vague and fading; threatening to slip away from his grasp, leaving the bear without a memory of anything remotely good. He lived a good few months with the protective female, learning to hunt and swim during the day, only to curl into her cozy hide come nightfall. She protected him from any hungry leopard seals or wolves, and didn’t mind him clambering all over her, in hopes to play. All in all, the first part of his life was very pleasant. Without any disturbances whatsoever, the bear grew quickly, taking after his mother with his kind, compassionate disposition.

However, she couldn’t have ever prepared him for what was to happen, before his first birthday.

The bear cub was just over ten months old, when the nearby sound of a vehicle’s tires grinding against the packed snow echoed across the tundra, successfully startling his mother to a point of aggression and need to flee. She let out a series of warning huffs to her son as she loped off a few strides, before turning towards him, urging him to come after her. And, despite his curiosity of the loud noise, the little cub did take off after his mother, his little paws carrying him only so far at a time. Her flight instinct taking over, the female leaned down to grasp at the cub’s scruff, before taking off into a quick run, her gait quickly accelerating.

Even so, the animal’s run was no match for the vehicles.

It was quickly approaching, the sound of the transportation device, and the female bear’s ears pinned backwards in a sign of her discomfort, though she continued running, pushing herself faster, until her lungs began to burn and her breaths came in pants. Her grip on her son tightened as the vehicle neared, and it was when the vehicle pulled up towards the running pair that Torak’s mother lunged towards the vehicle in a warning, her head sinking into alignment with her withers as she took on a more aggressive, warning tone. The car swerved, each and every man sitting within the van momentarily frightening, before speeding up the car, and beginning to herd the female towards a nearby rock outcrop. She didn’t realize she was being cornered until the van rolled to a stop, and eight men stepped from the strange machine, and beginning to close in on her. The crème bear placed her son down gently behind her, nuzzled him, before facing the competition that stand before her, and hauling herself onto her hind legs. A savage, angry roar slipped past her parted lips as the female watched the men with frightened eyes, causing each and every one of them to chuckle, sneering with clear enjoyment of her pain.

Despite her size, she was no match for a gun.

It was after the biggest, single man had taken a step too close that Torak’s mother had let out an angry snarl, before dropping back to all fours, and charging. Jaws agape in hopes to meet flesh and claws ready, the female was just feet away from the man, when a single, loud shot was heard, as well as the sudden blooming of pain in her side. The female stopped, stunned, and began stumbling to her side, casting a wary glance towards the crimson dripping from her pristine coat. Another roar and she rushed once again, only before the man shot once more, the bullet piercing her chest this time, causing the femme to let out a small grunt in pain. Even still, she tried to drag her body closer to the danger to her child, unaware of the fact that the pain wouldn’t stop, but in fact, come again. As she neared, life slowly fading from her eyes, a single, last shot was fired, and the female collapsed to the ground beneath her, a crimson pool growing around her bloodied form.

Torak stood, stock still, his breath hitching within his tiny throat. He knew he should run, obviously these smaller beasts were dangerous, but the tiny brute couldn’t pull himself to separate from his mother. He called out to her, the sound nothing but a meek cry, which was met with nothing but silence as the men bound her, and hauled him into the back of their truck. It was only after they were finished that they turned towards Torak, and without much struggle on man’s part, roped him and shoved him into a tiny crate, before sliding the crate onto the back of the truck. The stench of his mother’s blood taunted him with every inhale he took, and the cub fell asleep with his nose sticking out the crate bars, resting against her limp, lifeless paw.

After the death of his mother, Torak changed, like any cub would; he quickly became scared and nervous, afraid of what was going on around him. The men that had captured him were sent to catch a polar bear cub or two for their boss, the man who ran a massive circus. No one had a polar bear, and he figured, should he get one, his circus would certainly become the best in the world. Once the bear arrived, he was immediately pushed into a large train-box, in which the ground was sprinkled with hay, and a raw steak sat waiting for him in the back. He got used to living in the box, only being brought out when he was muzzled and chained, in order to get exercise to keep himself fit. The train would move from place to place, and the bear would get a chance to see all of the animal’s mulling about camp, and occasionally, see another bear whom would remind him of his mother. He’d call out to them, and there were a few that would call back to him, though they were immediately whipped by the man leading them for doing so.

As soon as Torak reached maturity, he was expected to learn tricks. You know; balancing on a ball, doing certain commands. The whole lot. However, the little bear wasn’t any sort of pet, he wasn’t nearly accustomed to learning new things, especially unnatural ones. But, when he didn’t respond, he was beaten. And, it wasn’t as if the bear could do anything about it but roar and cry out, as he was chained firmly against the ground, and his binds seemed nearly impossible to break. He slowly began getting used to learning new commands, as well as the savage beatings that would come from the drunken head-master every few nights, and put up with it. He did put up with it, for a good few years, far past the time he’d started doing shows. He would ignore the relentless prodding with the pointed rod in order to make him move, the amount of times the man screamed at him, and whipped him into submission. Everything that could be done to an animal to make it angry, the head master did to Torak.

Finally, but a few months ago, the bear absolutely lost it. It was in the middle of a show, when the man poked the bear in the ribs a tad too hard, drawing a thin line of crimson. His pelt was marred with scars of the same manner, but as Torak turned his massive skull towards the daring man, his ears turned backwards, and he lunged.

The man was dead in seconds.

Torak unleashed hell upon the man, ripping him apart without even trying. And, he continued to do so with the next twenty-four men that tried to control him. The audience was screaming and running about in an attempt to escape, and soon enough, the bear took off from the tent, and into the nearby forest. It was just days later, that the Government’s people found him, and had him removed. It was during his time in a confined, isolated rehabilitation area in which the storm hit, and the animal was forced to escape, using his strength in order to free himself from his confines. He was a phenomenal swimmer, and so he took to the water, and ended up here days later.

ROLEPLAY SAMPLE •

Nawbro.