My name is Abraxis. They say that I’m impulsive. That I’m malicious and nasty. And maybe it’s true, but what could you expect from someone like me? From the moment my claws grew sharp, I was built for my job. My mother raised me for battle and deception, so she could pass down her occupation to me. My bloodline grants me these unique powers of flame, which I love to utilize. I was the king’s champion, after all; his assassin, and a very good one at that. The lifestyle I lived was a very good one. The king treated me well, and killing off those he wanted dead was quite entertaining. Mother has always told me to be good, or the consequences will come right back around and kick me in the ribs. I lived by those words. Though when I get angry or stressed, I can be a bit… violent and impulsive. My mother, the king, and others had tried to stop me from these episodes, though they were just getting more frequent by the day. Soon, my king came to me to explain that I needed to stop these episodes of fiery violence. I begged to him that I could not control it, which was true for the most part. Nonetheless, he was annoyed, and we both left that conversation both feeling livid and offended. A few nights later, when I was resting the night at the castle, a cloaked figure snuck into my room. I feigned my sleep, though when it was within range, I leapt up and tackled it to the floor, digging my claws into its flesh, and turning his dagger back towards its throat. It tried to fight back, to claw me down, but I was an assassin, trained to kill. My fur smoldered as I willed it, burning into the attacker's cloak. It was only a matter of time before it reached his own. A fiendish grin spread across my face. I yanked its hood back furiously, revealing the snarling face of my king. I was taken aback, with shock, but most of all with rage. He tried to catch me off-guard, but I willed myself: hotter. My heat burned into him, and he winced. How sad it was that he thought that he could prance in and assassinate his own assassin. Who did he think I was? I pressed my claws harder against his neck, seething. He underestimates me, He hates me... my self-conscious murmured. I growled. Well then, I hate him too. A sudden rage consumed me whole, and I killed him there, my own king, with a slight flick of my wrist. I then stood up, and grabbed my belongings, my palpable rage still humming in my bones, and ran from the castle, leaving everything besides my darksteel armor behind. I fled the kingdom soon afterwards. People now think of me as a myth; a legend of the past. But I am not. I still live on. Name: Abraxis Age: 5 (canine years) Personality: War-torn, Bold, Hot-tempered, and skilled. He thinks of love as a weakness and blood as a strength. When Abraxis wants, he gets what he wants, or people get hurt. His rage, the force that has been infesting him since he began his murderous career, has become a weakness; wiping his senses and logic blind for minutes or seconds at a time when he becomes angered. You like it? :) Thanks to for hosting this and giving scratchers the opportunity to get some amazing OCs! Music ~ Wildfire (Cover by JubyPhonic) Art ~ moi Story ~ moi Fire Gif in background ~ internet
