mut rep:
-born with 430 stats
-aged to 1 year with aging stone at 2 months (oops)
-aged back down to 4 months
-used aging crystal at 1 year
kinged on 11/28/24 at 6:16 PM PST
kinged with 988 stats
+15 STR
+15 AGI
+14 SPD
+28 SMR
+14 STM
NYOOOOOM!! YAY easily left all of his classmates behind in the dust in a race. There he went. Bye. +4% training experience!
After an hour of running around, YAY managed to pull it together enough to get in some good sneaking! Nicely done! +2% training experience!
YAY practically bowled his opponent over with pure energy and gusto. Wow. +4% training experience!
YAY scrambled clumsily up the wall, but it worked out pretty well in the end. He managed it! +2% training experience!
You watch bemusedly as aYAY runs in circles in front of you. Where does that lad get his energy?
appearance heir:
bought for 8gb
stats: 126
generation 6
clean
kinged on 11/10/24 at 12:44 PM PST
kinged with 420 stats
-added sunrise splendor in slot 1 - 100%
-added wicked snuggle in slot 2 - 100%
-added bloody omen in slot 5 -100%
-added feline 10 ebony in slot 6 - 100%
-added shard feline in slot 3 - 100%
-changed briar heavy rosette making opacity 35%-100%
-changed noctis margay to 100%
-changed cimmerian margay 66%-100%
-changed ardor feline unders to 100%
-changed base from brown to rough ruby
-changed mane color from divine to gregarious
kinged on 11/10/24 at 12:44 PM PST
lore
|
v
Arley was born into a pride that values strength and physical perfection. His unique appearance—several additional eyes scattered across his face—was regarded with a mix of awe and fear. While his mother believed he was special, the rest of the pride grew increasingly uncomfortable with him. Rumors whispered through the pride: perhaps he was cursed, or even a sign of misfortune. As Arley grew older, it became harder for his mother to protect him from suspicion and, eventually, hostility.
When a period of drought struck, the pride looked for someone to blame, and all eyes fell on Arley. The leaders of the pride forced him out, accusing him of being the root of their bad luck. Despite his love for his family and desire to belong, Arley was abandoned to the harsh savannah, forced to navigate its dangers alone despite only being a year old. While he survived by scrounging for food and water, he was plagued by the memory of his rejection and the haunting sense that maybe something was truly wrong with him.
After days of wandering, weak and close to collapsing, a shadow appeared before Arley—a figure lurking in the shadows of dusk, taking the form of a powerful male lion and calling itself ‘Shakrai’. Shakrai had a striking similarity to Arley, bearing the same multiple eyes that had marked Arley as an outcast. Shakrai claimed to understand Arley’s pain, calling himself a “brother” of sorts and a fellow exile.
Shakrai revealed to Arley that he, too, had once been shunned for his unusual appearance and otherworldly nature, and had spent years fighting against it. He spoke to Arley about the harshness of the world and the hypocrisy of others who pretended to care, only to turn on those who were different. Shakrai’s bitterness resonated with Arley’s pain, yet Arley still clung to a sense of compassion and forgiveness that conflicted with Shakrai’s dark view.
Seeing the young lion’s gentle nature as both a weakness and a challenge, Shakrai began to subtly manipulate Arley, positioning himself as the only one who truly understood him. He would encourage Arley to ruin the lives of other animals to let out his resentment for his former pride. Shakrai framed his advice as a way for Arley to survive and protect himself, but his influence gradually led Arley to act on darker impulses.
In time, Shakrai’s suggestions became more extreme, urging Arley to reject those who were weak or disloyal and to punish those who wronged him. Shakrai argued that fire—an ultimate force of cleansing and destruction—could be used to mark territory or scare off rivals. As the dry season left the savannah parched, Shakrai saw an opportunity to test Arley’s loyalty to him.
Shakrai pointed out a distant patch of the savannah—a rival pride’s territory, where a few lionesses and their cubs roamed, vulnerable and unaware. Shakrai whispered to Arley that these lions might someday seek to harm him, just like his own pride had. Though hesitant, Arley felt a twisted sense of justice, and he agreed. Shakrai’s words had a way of making his fears seem justified, and the idea of fire—a force that would destroy everything, yet cleanse his world of those who might reject him—began to sink in.
With Shakrai’s encouragement, Arley made his way toward the dry grass, his heart heavy with fear and guilt. He wanted to believe he was protecting himself, that this was the only way to find peace.
The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the savannah in a dim, orange glow. He could see the faint flicker of fireflies in the distance, a serene beauty that only deepened his sense of unease. He didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to do what Shakrai had urged him to. He knew this wasn’t right.
But Shakrai was already urging him on eagerly, lurking like a shadow against the night sky. His many eyes gleamed with an unsettling hunger, and he smiled in a way that Arley had come to dread—a smile that promised he knew best, that he was doing this “for Arley’s own good.”
“Do you see them, Arley?” Shakrai’s voice was low and venomous. He gestured with his paw toward the distant shape of a the same lionesses and their cubs from earlier, huddled together for warmth. “They’re just like the pride that cast you out. Look at how they huddle together, like they’re so much better than you. They don’t know the pain you’ve endured. They don’t know you were marked.”
'Marked?' Arley snuck a quick side glance at Shakrai.
He brushed it off and focused on the lionesses, clenching his jaw and shifting his weight uneasily. “They haven’t done anything to me,” he whispered, though he could feel the anger rising in his chest, stoked by the memory of his own pride’s betrayal. He hated that Shakrai could draw out his pain so easily. “They’re just… surviving, like I am.”
Shakrai slinked closer, his presence thick and oppressive. “Surviving, yes. But how long until they find you here, Arley? Until they turn on you, just like the others did? You know how they are—all smiles until they see what makes you different. They’ll chase you off, and they won’t think twice.”
Arley’s chest tightened as he looked at the small pride in the distance. He knew it was wrong, but his heart was heavy with fear and loneliness. He didn’t want to be driven out again, didn’t want to suffer through that pain and rejection.
But something in him resisted. “I… I can’t,” he muttered, his voice barely more than a breath. He turned his head, hoping Shakrai would give up and let him walk away.
But Shakrai didn’t relent. He pressed in closer, his eyes glinting like embers. “You can, Arley. You must. They’ll never leave you in peace. Burn the grasslands. Send them a message. Show them that they can’t toy with you, that they can’t treat you as something less than them.”
Arley swallowed, his heart pounding as he stared out at the dry, cracked grass beneath his paws. He didn’t want this, didn’t want to harm anyone. He was supposed to be a protector, wasn’t he? Yeah, right. He could still remember the fear he’d felt as a cub, sinking behind his mother as the whole pride stared him down with hatred and disgust.
Shakrai’s voice sliced through his thoughts. “Or do you want to be the helpless, lonely little outcast forever? Is that all you are? The one they throw out when times are hard?”
With a trembling paw, Arley nudged a dry patch of grass, his claws dragging against the brittle stalks. He could feel his anger—hot and twisting—surging with his fear. Maybe… maybe a fire would protect him, make them afraid to hurt him, make them understand what he was capable of. His heart ached at the thought, but he was tired, so tired, of being afraid.
Taking a deep breath, he raked his claws against a sharp rock, sending a spark onto the grass. A small, orange ember glowed at the edge of a stalk. He took a step back, his breath catching as the ember caught, growing and crackling, spreading in a thin line. But Shakrai’s whispers urged him on, and, as if in a trance, Arley grabbed a nearby branch in his jaws. The wood was brittle and dry, perfect for carrying flame. He lowered it to the smoldering grass, watching as the fire clung to the tip, flickering before bursting into a steady flame.
For a moment, he simply stood there, transfixed by the way the firelight cast his shadow across the ground. The heat kissed his face, the crackling filling his ears. He took a few steps forward, branch in his mouth and head hung low, the flames trailing in his wake, spreading the fire further. But as the blaze began to consume the grass, climbing higher and faster than he’d expected, he felt a pang of unease twist in his chest.
Regret tore through him. He dropped the burning branch, stumbling back as he watched the flames lick at the grass, moving with an eerie beauty across the plain. His stomach twisted with guilt, and he felt bile rising in his throat.
“No… no, I shouldn’t have…” he whispered, his voice barely audible and panic fueled in his throat.
But Shakrai only grinned, a terrible, triumphant smile. “There, you see? You’re stronger than they ever thought you were. This is the power they feared in you, Arley. They’ll finally know what you’re capable of.”
Fury and anguish crashed through Arley’s heart. He whirled on Shakrai, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “You… you pushed me to do this!” he cried, his voice breaking. “You kept telling me they’d hurt me, that they’d betray me, but you don’t know that! You’ve been twisting my fear into something hateful!”
Shakrai’s grin faltered, but he held his ground. “I know the world, Arley. I know how cruel it is. I’m teaching you to survive.”
Arley shook his head, his body trembling as he struggled to hold back the flood of emotions within him. “Survive?” His voice was barely a whisper, laced with both sorrow and defiance. “You’re not teaching me to survive—you’re teaching me to hate, to destroy. That’s not who I want to be.
For the first time, Shakrai looked at him with something akin to disappointment. But Arley didn’t care; he looked into Shakrai’s many eyes, and his own gaze grew steady. “I don’t want to be like you,” he said softly, his voice shaky and words laced with a quiet, stubborn resolve. His teeth were clenched so hard they hurt. He was caught between the fire he’d started and the darkness that was Shakrai, and for the first time, he realized he might never escape this spiral unless he found the strength to defy the demon within.
