Played by honey
Alecto Thrasos Kalon
Fur Color
Sex & Gender
Blue and gold
4 (27 August, 2018)
Eurasian Wolf



Fury crafted the woman. Shadows paint her hide, blurring supple curves and blunting harsh lines. A body in contrast, showing evidence of the girl she once was - and the tyrant she has become. Alecto, beautiful, ruined Alecto, bears her rage well. Crafting it into an armed blade, sharp as polished steel. There have been those who had sought her out, found her a prize to win, and upon her body marked the very nature of the beasts she now seeks to rid from the world.

Lithe muscle lay beneath silky coat. The woman maintains impeccable grooming, averse to tracking yesterdays mess into the present. Shrewd intelligence shines from her remaining eye, always assessing, planning their next move. Those past had wanted her, and had broken that which was most coveted. Her scars, that matrix of scar tissue and blindness it cast, made a maiden of the land something truly divine. A wolf who bore their struggles outward, and shaped their pain into vengeance. It shaped her into something that found strength where others would crumble beneath the weight. An unfettered fury.


On that day, when she had woken, the Widow sneered at the grey sky; growled at the accumulation of salt on her pelt, on her face, in her nose. Her claws had scraped at her nose, jagged edges carving finite lines and drawing blood to the surface. She had hated living in that fucking cave at the corner of the sea and the end of the world. The ugly melancholy pissed her off, the smell of the sea pissed her off, the accumulation of her own scent pissed her off, but most poignantly she seethed over the fact that her heart was still beating. She had hated what she had become. A sniveling weakling with her head in the sand, surrounded by her own filth. Self shackled to the promise of safety and anonymity loneliness offered, she remained hidden away. Spending her days throwing not so silent curses up at the gods for any minor inconvenience and contemplated throwing herself off the cliffs she despised so much.

Rage. It over took all her senses. Her arteries clogging with thick, ugly, hatred. Coagulating, it slowed the flow of blood until her entire circulatory system was drained and hollow. Poison welled in her salivary glands and her lips pulled back to expose teeth. Froth formed at the corners of her maw as teeth gnashed and spittle decorated her pelt like stars in the night. Pacing just outside the maw of her den, the woman lingered. For the first time in a year, she felt revenges cold touch. It whispered to her to trap the bastard who dare do this to her in her webs, and carve out the melody of his dying breath. The earth pulsed below her, calling out for her daughter to act. To be her blade, to serve as judge, jury, and executioner. It was her birth right. It was her destiny. It was this day that she left that dank cave and never looked back. The shadow of her former self not welcome among the daemons that decorate it now.

She found him just as she was coming into herself. He was skin and bone, a scrap of fur, not even enough flesh to satisfy the circling crows - screaming with murderous intent. What had possessed her to pick him up and carry him with her, she still didn't know... Perhaps it was the small part of her that still longed for companionship, for a connection. The desire to know and be known. Perhaps it was the morbid desire to watch as he pulled himself from the depths of hell. To observe the same struggle, the same fight, and crawl with tooth and nail back from deaths door together. Despite the odds, they survived. Together they grew, not of flesh and sinew - but of spite and hellfire. As he grew healthier, he spoke of his past. Of the sister he had lost long ago, and wanted nothing more than to retrieve. The widow used her webs to find her, but nothing in this world comes for free. Matching shackles decorate their throats, chains swinging between them. Irrevocably bound, the siblings would live the rest of their lives in service to her - and she basking int he protection of their shadows.

Her two scions grew into warriors, and the trio quickly made a name for themselves. The dark demise. Named in part due to their coloring, the other based on when they chose to strike. None escaped them, and the rumors of their success spread. Alecto the head, Kuandyk and Rayana the hands. Clientele from all walks of life came seeking out their services, unaware of how they truly chose their victims. For the group operated not as mindless assassins but as servants of their own twisted ideology. But, oh, how infamy kills and hubris blinds. The day Rayana was taken was the day everything changed. Drowned, maimed, ruined the viper had been defiled. Her hound bayed his war song, and the tyrant saw the world bathed in crimson. No one stole from her and lived for long after. In the shadows they wait, observe, collude. Seeking out the one that did this, ready to return the favor threefold.



Played by
Local Time
10-06-2022 at 05:49 AM
6 posts
Member Since
Other Characters

scroll to top