Oenasar

Temoc (Brother, NPC)

Gwendie and Nedalla (Sisters, NPCs)

## Application Sheet

Oenasar was a dusty gray-brown wolf with piercing, ice blue eyes. He was born outside of the Domain, and lived as a loner until he ultimately chose to leave. Oenasar was created and RP'd by Zoketi.

## Personality

* ***Wicked and Bitter.*** Oenasar is no one's friend. He doesn't even understand what a friend is. He is a negative, cruel wolf. Raised as a bully, turned on by kin, and sent from his homeland to terrorize those he met. He has never known love or warmth. He believes that the world turned on him, and so he rebels by bringing pain to others. He's not very social, obviously. He doesn't like to talk, nor is he skilled in conversation. He prefers to go straight to physical interaction, aka violence.
* ***Cunning, Mischievous, and Selfish.*** However, he is quite smart, having gleaned a lot from his old father, his pack, and surviving on his own. He uses his intelligence for his own benefit. He is very selfish, as well as manipulative and slippery. He never thinks of others before himself. Everything is done *for him*. He cares not for anyone's feelings, their opinion, their status. He follows no rules. He takes what he wants when he can, whether it hurts someone or not. In fact, he prefers to hurt others.
* ***Cowardly.*** He is a coward, though. Always fleeing when he knows he can't win or gain anything. He's a good judge of when he can or cannot triumph, and usually sulks off if his plans won't work. He's quite creative, and good at using his surroundings to help him. Rarely does he jump into things without careful thought. He likes to plan things out and have them go exactly that way. If one thing goes wrong he may even abandon what he was doing, deeming it a failure. Precision is everything. His extreme tactics often prevent him from failing. When he does, however, it drives him nuts. He is well aware that he has his limits, too. He can also be a bit obsessive, especially when it comes to his plans. They're so carefully wired, and he seeks to carry them out to the point of perfection. He is a perfectionist, in other words.
* ***Creative, Secretive, and Resourceful.*** He can go a bit wild on occasion, and this makes him unstable, so during these bouts he's very unpredictable. His creativity lends a paw to his craziness, and it is very hard to perceive what he will do next. He is very proud of this aspect too, but not to the point of arrogance. He does not forgive easily, either. Obviously past actions have given him to holding grudges for a very long time. He does not change his mind often, but it's not unheard of. He likes to have a set course of action; any doubts are analyzed and thought over obsessively.

## Pre-Group History

Heavy rains announced the birth, to an elderly she-wolf named Ambritee. She was a sad, weak creature, who'd lost two litters previously. This time she bore four pups, two males and two females. They seemed healthy. But so had her others. Nonetheless, she'd care for them as vigilantly as before. Her mate, the pack alpha, blamed her for the loss of his other children. She knew that if she lost these ones, she'd loose not only her status in the pack but perhaps her life too. He was not a forgiving mate. The new pups suckled contently as the nurse wolf went to tell the news (normally, she would have left camp to birth, but last time she'd returned with dead pups and her mate had forced her to remain in the den site this time). Her mate, Lord Pachitar, was soon in the den, his pale bulk dominating the small shelter. He only sniffed the cubs, and gave Ambritee a look. She knew what that meant. She quailed back against the dirt floor, and watched him leave without a word.

Like any pups, they grew fast. The ringleader was the eldest, a male named Temoc. He was somewhat of a bully, too. There was another litter in the pack at that time, and Temoc often took his siblings to roughhouse with their peers. It usually resulted in squealing and crying from the victims. But of course, no one dared to scold the alpha's children. Pachitar watched them all the time, and some even wondered if he was proud that his pups became so violent and bossy. He cared little for the other litter - as long as they survived to join his ranks they were fine. Besides, it was their mother's fault they were so weak and pathetic. On the other paw, Ambritee was disappointed that she was raising pushy bullies. But she couldn't do a thing to change them. Her role was to keep them fed and groomed and well-rested, that was it. The more they became like their father, the less she loved them.

They were surviving well. Ambritee had doubts. What if she stopped caring for them? The world didn't need four new Pachitars. Besides, she had little reason to live anymore. She was old, and no one cared about her, and there was nothing anymore that brought her happiness. But, fear kept her from doing nothing, yet. It wasn't like she could just take a pup and slit its throat anyway - she was always being watched. She raised her children with little love. They didn't seem to care much. They spent little time with their mother. Baths were short and silent, and even settling to bed they barely spoke. Eventually they stopped coming to her at all - around the age of five months. She then spent much of her days sleeping. Pachitar watched the pups when he wasn't doing alpha duties, and when he was he put two nurses in charge. He paid no mind to his mate. Pah, it wasn't like he'd chosen her out of love. No, she'd been beautiful once - the perfect mother for his heirs. Now she was old and had no more use to him. But she'd raised the litter, so he wouldn't kill her. Besides, she hardly ate anymore, she'd probably die within the month.

As the pups continued to age, Pachitar began to take them out of camp and give them lessons. He took Temoc more than the others, of course, for the eldest son was to be the next alpha. He showed obvious favoritism to Temoc, which did upset the three others - so used to being spoiled and tended to by the white alpha. He still interacted with them, for they were still his pups and therefore more important than any other packmates. They'd rise to good positions if they trained right. He ignored their slight bitterness. Temoc was no longer the leader of his siblings; they had turned against him in jealousy. One playfight went too far, leaving Temoc with a torn ear and tear-stained cheeks. He ran to his father, who berated him for crying. However, he then comforted the pup, and sent the pack beta to punish the other three. Gwenie, Nedalla, and Oenasar each earned a scar for their behavior.

Adolescence soon arrived, and with it more angst and bitterness. Gwenie, who'd been closest to Temoc as younger pups, now shunned him completely. Pachitar seemed to care about his other three offspring less and less. In time he ignored them just as mcuh as he had Ambritee. They carried her weakness, and so were no longer worthy of his care as a father. Temoc had grown strong, no more did he cry. He was completely separate from his siblings. His father's influence was great, and he had no one else to offer opinions, so he easily absorbed Pachitar's views. The pack itself was a broken mess. Some wolves followed the alpha contently, sharing some of his darker ways. Most just lived in dull fear of his wrath, staying only because they could not leave without risking penalty. It had always been that way, since Pachitar's rise to power seven years before. And Temoc would follow in those pawsteps. But trouble brewed in the form of sibling jealousy.

However, Pachitar was well aware of this. He would get rid of his other children. Denying his earlier thoughts, he murdered Ambritee and made it look as though his runt son Oenasar had killed her. He turned the pack on him, and on his sisters too. They ran. Nedalla fell in the chaos, and was trampled to death by Pachitar's loyal scouts. Her sister and brother made it out. Only, however, to run into Temoc, who had been told to stay away from camp. They were alone with their brother. Hatred ran high, and they fought. They killed him. Gwenie was badly injured, but they took off again, leaving the heir gutted and useless. Fleeing the territory, up into the mountains, they heard Pachitar's cry of fury. He gave pursuit, and caught up to his children easily, for they had been traveling to account for Gwenie's condition. She fell, begging Oenasar to help her, as their father bore down on the pair.

He looked back, saw her *weakness.* Poison. He turned and ran, leaving her fate a mystery. He could hear her cry out as he betrayed her, springing up into the dense woods, never to return to the pack of lies and misery.

By the time he left, he was leaving juvenile days behind. He did not stop traveling for weeks. He had to leave that horrid pack behind; where he would never ever come upon it again. But life was hard now. He had to feed himself. His hunting skills were poor, for he'd not been taught much, and he survived on rodents and rabbits and anything that got in his way. He was skinny and tired and sore each day, and haunted by guilt and anger and violent dreams that kept him up at night, pale jaws that lashed out. He avoided contact with other wolves - always hurrying away from any traces of scent and fleeting packs that he neared. He was lonely and miserable. It turned into anger over time. He took risks and thought little of his well-being. He'd chase deer, earning wounds when they turned back to fight. His prey died in pools of blood. He fought foxes and raccoons. Even a cougar, which nearly took his life - an escape was made into a river. It was a wonder he survived. But he recalled lessons from his old pack's healer, and managed to find what he needed to preserve his life.

Eventually, his wildness slowed, and he began to feel the need to make contact with others of his species. Nearing a pack, he would skirt the borders, hoping to chance a glimpse of another wolf. Sometimes he saw them - and their happiness confused him. It made him bitter and jealous. Sometimes he was spotted, and had to flee upon fast legs. Days of running away had made him fast. Most of the time he lay in bushes, watching curiously as the pack canines went about their day. He never tried to approach at first. Especially if there was more than one wolf. But once he saw a she-wolf, obviously a pack wolf, but without company. She was young, elegant, and looked blissful. He burst from the bushes, demanding to know why she was happy. She tried to flee, but he tackled her down, screeching his anger and confusion. She cried, for she didn't understand. He began to hurt her, riddling her pelt with gashes. He wanted to take away her happiness, he wanted to steal it for himself. How dare she live like this! He found himself sobbing too, and finally he crumpled back, allowing her to escape. She fled in terror, howling in pain. He knew her pack would come, so he turned and fled again, like always. No happier than before.

Yet he felt satisfied. Maybe if he hurt others, maybe if he showed them what it was like to suffer, maybe then he would be allowed to have joy. His mind believed this would work. He took off again, and whenever he came across a pack he lay in wait. In wait for those who laughed and talked, who played. He would attack, he would hurt them, even if he was reduced to a bloody pulp himself. Luck kept him alive. He loved it. He loved seeing their faces go from delight to terror, to anger and fear. How he loved that he himself was the cause. Look how they suffered like he had! Over and over again, he would do this. Mostly to young pack wolves who were alone, or in pairs. It was his game. His life. Perhaps his father would be proud of him now.

## Group History

Oenasar was *very* excited when he reached the Domain - the world was full of possibilities! Of course, sometimes the rain put a damper on those plans. So did earthquakes, apparently!

When the Tectonic Shift rocked the Domain, Oenasar was in the forest. A tree had fallen towards him, but thankfully, it caught on the shrubbery he was hiding in, and he managed to escape relatively unscathed.

He was frightened out of his mind, and he was dealing with a lot of frustration at himself and his own past actions. He used to be certain of his actions, even proud. But now? Now, he was confused. And he *had* to get rid of it.

To get rid of it, he approached a pack. Dawnguard was the nearest one. He spotted Samhradh gathering herbs, and prostrated himself on the ground, asking her (quite politely) to kill him. Samhradh, being a healer (and a decent wolf) said she wouldn't, and instead offered to take him to her alpha, Nahimana. She might be able to help. Oenasar didn't think so, but he agreed to go with her.

Going to Dawnguard didn't help, but he did realize that death was not the answer. He decided to leave the Domain, seeking somewhere where there was...joy. Happiness. Laughter. Things that made life worth living. He hasn't been seen since.

## Trivia

* He has a habit of talking to himself.
* He chews on things when he's upset and angry (including on himself).
* He's a jerk, and he knows it.
* He doesn't like water. Or rain. Or being wet in general.

## Quotes

* "Would you please slit my throat? Or, suffocate me, or shatter my skull...make it fast please...I have done very bad things, and I deserve to die. Do you know where I can find death?" (to Samhradh, *Death Wish*)

## External Links

* Official Application Sheet
* Zoketi's deviantART Gallery