Sultan Zaafir.

[Sultan Zaafir]

SULTAN ZAAFIR

.. the mask

Your Name: Lexxy or Lexx.
Where did you find us?: Roleplaying forum list.
How long have you been roleplaying?: About.. 7 years.
Password: [ admin edit! ]

...basic character information

Birth Name: Sultan Aydin Ebri Zaafir.
Nickname: Sul, Ebri, Zaffy.
Pronunciation: Suhl-tan Aiden Eh-bree Zah-fear.
Gender: Male.
Age: 18
Grade: 12
Birth date: February 13.
Program: Arts.
Major: Philosophy.
Animal Identity: Eurasian Eagle Owl.

.. personality

Likes:

• Being sneaky.
  
• Outsmarting people.
  
• Sunsets.
  
• Learning other languages.
  
• Arguing / Discussions.
  
• Making friends.
  
• Cold weather.
  
• Studying Turkey / Ottoman Empire.
  
• Reading.
  
• Martial arts.
  

Dislikes:

• Snobby people.
  
• Snide remarks directed at his friends.
  
• Hot weather / Humidity.
  
• Small books.
  
• People who talk too much.
  
• Animal hunting.
  
• Hypocrites.
  
• Cheats and liars.
  
• People who are too quiet.
  
• Lots of work.
  

Fears:

• Falling while flying.
  
• Claustrophobia.
  
• Being 'bested' in something he likes to do.
  

Strengths:

• Confident.
  
• Witty.
  
• Quick-thinking.
  

Weaknesses:

• Not very strong.
  
• Over confident.
  
• Always looking for a fight.
  

Overall: In general, Sultan is the typical 'secretly caring mysterious bad-boy' type.

Sultan is very outgoing. He's never afraid of a little adventure and this shows in the way his eyes seem to twinkle every time he sees something he wants to do or sees as worthwhile. He values his life as simply time to do the things that will get him remembered. He's typically described as the 'sarcastic bad-boy' of a group, whatever and whoever may be in the group with him. When he meets a new person he'll be polite enough to let them get to know him, but over time his true sides with come through. His normal side isn't bad, it's normally funny and witty, as well as sarcastic. He makes it his life's goal to make people smile if he sees them looking down or depressed. Even to the point of putting himself through a small amount of pain if need be, thought he's found that that normally makes them worry more. He loves books. In his backpack he literally has a walking library. Books on ever subject line wherever he may be, and he's happy to lend you one if he gets it back with not a drop of coffee spilled on it. Sultan is constantly cracking jokes and giggling at everything, even when the jokes are at the expense of others. Especially in that situation. He likes anything shiny, but prefers to be in the dark. This is why Sultan carries several small chains and pendants around his neck and a few bracelets. Whenever he's in a bad mood, he simply glints one of them off of any piece of sunlight or light in general and the bad mood seems to be erased away. That's how he stays mostly happy all of the time. He has an addictive personality, so anything he does can and probably will be obsessed over for about a month, and everything under the sun seems to peek his interest, so he'll have several different 'phases' over the course of a few months or even a few weeks. Case in point, the collecting of the chains and pendants. He's very hypocritical though, despite hating hypocrites. For instance, he hates thieves, yet if he sees anything shiny or especially beautiful, he can't help but feel the urge to steal it. Often times he does, but he hates himself for it afterward- not wanting to give it back for fear of them knowing it was him. It's rare to see him cry, but when he does, get an umbrella because there's going to be a flood. He'll hunker down in his room and just sit in the corner and sob for hours upon hours on end. And even after he's stopped, for about an hour after ward, anything and everything will make him upset or emotional, no matter how insignificant. Sultan is suave and smooth, always trying to woo the ladies and if he feels like joking, men. His mysterious appearance draws in a certain group of them, most which he'd rather ignore.

.. appearance

x x

Play By: Nir Regev.
Appearance: As a human, Sultan is relatively handsome, with sharp features and a stiff, well formed jaw line. It's obvious he's from Turkish descent with his lovely tanned skin tone and dark hair. His neck is thinner then you'd expect, and his squared chin is covered in a thin black stubble, which he rarely shaves completely off. His lips are full and a rosy pink color, bottom lip larger then the top one. His nose is pointed, and of average size. His eyes are sharp and large, a bright golden color that reflects light and makes them look like they glow. In reality, his eyes are just a very very light amber color, giving them the appearance of gold. He's rather tall, at a sky-scraping 6'5 feet tall, and looks extremely old for his age. His black hair falls a bit past his ears, and he normally doesn't comb it much, giving it a spiked, teased appearance. When he does comb it though, it can take on a variety of styles, including taking on a formal looking air to it. His style is kind of what you would describe as a formal attire, rocker style, and a bit of indie put together. It normally consists of witty t-shirts and a hoodie or a jacket, or a button down and a blazer with jeans or slacks. Sultan likes his clothes and normally takes pride in his style. His hands are normal, yet with very thin fingers. Sultan walks very fluidly, and normally it looks like he glides instead of walks, and at his height, that's saying something. His smile is kind of a let down from his appearance, but is nice none the less. His teeth are large and a bright white color, with one gold filling in the left corner of his mouth.

As an owl, Sultan is very smooth, as owls often are, and is a light tan to a bright white on his body- with a ring of brown around his face that some say represents his constant black stubble. He's about a foot tall, with a wingspan of around three feet. Each feather on the bird's wing is a different shade of brown, but the rest of his body is a light cream to a white. Though it's hidden by his long wings. His eyes are the same as his human form- a bright liquid gold, seemingly all knowing- giving away that this owl is not all that meets the eye. His beak is a black color, and pointed to a taper that turns down, lighter at the tip.
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.. history

Parents: Asil and Syli Tabak.
Siblings: None.
As a child, Sultan was born as Aydin Ebri Tabak, to the royal class of Turkey. He was born normal enough, but his father lived in constant fear that his son would grow up to be like his grandfather, who was a feared thief, murderer, and criminal. He was a shifter, a rough looking man who Sultan had inherited his looks from. His name was Emin, and he chose his animal to be a black panther. In his animal form, he was larger then most panthers and used that to terrorize the country under his rule, until his death when Sultan's father was 20, forcing him to take the throne. At 36, now, he and his wife had had Sultan to give the family an heir.

Growing up, Sultan had exhibited mostly the same mannerisms as Emin had, though on a smaller scale. The petty thievery, the attraction to power, and the witty cruelty. His father was worried. What if he grew up to be another man just like his grandfather? What if he completely destroyed the country as they knew it? Agonizing days went by as Sultan was punished for increasingly horrible crimes until his 13th birthday.

His father had sparked an argument with his mother about if he should be allowed to take the throne after his death. Of course, Syli defended her son, saying it was simply teenage rebellion and that he would get over it. Asil disagreed strongly, bringing Emin into the conversation every few minutes and explaining about how if Sultan were to be like that, he would be executed for a drastic measures. Sultan's eyes grew wide and he ran to his room. Eventually, after a few hours of fighting, Sultan heard a crash as his father hit his mother so hard he sent her tumbling to the floor. Then he heard struggling as the door clicked, locking her in a room as the footsteps grew closer. Sultan's eyes widened as he stood as close to the window as possible, wishing he could fly away and never come back. He would be happy to leave this all behind. A tear escaped his eyes as he suddenly felt the urge to sit on the windowsill. Not knowing what else to do, he did so.

Just as his door opened, his body suddenly flung itself out of the open window. With horror, he realized he was plummeting over a cliff. Not knowing what to do, he panicked. He had wished he could fly away, and now he was about to die. In vain, Sultan flapped his arms as if they were wings. Suddenly, he felt like his bones were popping out of place. He figured he had simply hit the ground and he was dying, his mind playing tricks on him. He felt singing pains his his fingers and arms, and all over his body, really. His legs felt as if they were curling up, knees touching his chest. His neck went stiff, and his eyes felt like they were growing, the faint light of the city now stinging his poor retinas as if they were floodlights. His lips felt dry and hard, and he was no longer able to move them.

This was it. He was definitely dying, his mind just playing tricks in his last seconds. Until he felt himself lift up, soaring over the waters as if a bird. Wait.. he pulled one of his arms in front of him and with a stomach-plummeting thought, realized he had.. feathers. Soaring low and skimming the water, he saw himself. An owl. his face was circular and soft looking, and with a start and his little heart racing, he turned tail and flew back towards the castle. He noticed his father looking out the window, searching for the crumpled body of his son on the rocks below as he noticed a small owl fly from where his son was. His eyes filled with rage and he threw a small stature at the owl, hoping to hit it. Sultan dodged it and perched on the edge of the cliff, behind the castle where his father was, and tried to relax. However, he simply collapsed as things went black.

When he awoke, it was dawn, and he was covered in bruises and scrapes, muscles and arms sore from the flight and pain of sprouting feathers. He was disoriented, and so when he tried to stands he fell. After he finally stood, Sultan walked off into the village, growing his hair out and blending in with the crowds, changing his name to Sultan Zaafir after the throne that was wrongfully taken from him.

Eventually Sultan heard about an academy for the shifters. Hoping to find someone that was just like him, he ventured off and away from his homeland to join them, to hone his skills.

.. connecting human to animal

Sultan is very intelligent and owls are known for their intelligence and portrayed as the 'older and wiser' in most tales and stories, being able to give good advice and are rather kind. They're also shown as quiet and sly, much like Sultan, a quiet and sly predator to those below him, but can also be helpful and sweet. He enjoys wide open spaces and the night, much like an owl, and his movements are fluid and soft like one as well. He prefers meat to vegetables, and often throws away nothing but the bones of what he eats.

.. literacy

This is from a wolf roleplay, and is on a good day. My posts normally average from 500 to 800 words.

'What a lovely day for killing, what a lovely day for deceit. What a lovely day for ignoring you, and paying more attention to me.' a small female sang. Her form wasn't small per se, but her minute presence was considered to be of beauty and grace to other men. At this point, she was a female. She could also be a male, but at the present moment she was being her usual self. See, as a female, dear Rosenrot would appear irresistible to men, but hideous and deformed to females. The same gender she appeared that her bones rearranging and shifting under the matted, bloodied hide that seemed to be sewn together from the remnants of old, rotten corpses. Her eyes hollow black eye socket, the hollows reached the back of her skull. Sticking a finger in her eye sockets, one could poke right through to the outside of her skull again. Those holes were completely hollow and slimy, though always appeared the darkest blacks. Although these holes were grotesque, a faint red light could be seem coming from the back of them, and she could see through the back of her head with this discovery.

Although to the opposite gender, she was a stunning sight to beheld. Her pelt was of a stunning orange with cream all down her legs and chest. Her face was dappled with rich splats of cream, and thin orange-sickle colored rings adorned the edges of her large, drawing eyes. Those eyes were her key- her power. She was able to make any wolf forget what she had done to them the nights previous. They were a bright, capturing orange with yellow tints around the pupil. That small slit in the nerves of the iris was always at the same level of dilation. This is how one could tell Rosenrot Morgenstern was a succubus.

A succubus. Oh dear. Why yes, and she was in this maze for victims. Victims who couldn't escape. She had memorized these twists and turns to use this hedge trap as an effecting cage for her unwilling, and sometimes willing, victims. They would run and run, but nothing could stop them once she had driven them to the middle of the maze where there was almost no chance of finding your way back out of that hedge trap of death that would surely come to you in your dreams. Or quickly in your alertness, either one was the ritual.

"Hmm.." she said in the most seductive voice one would have ever heard. Of course, if you were the same gender you would hear a gruff noise, almost a grunt, coming from her maw full of broken, rotting teeth and out of place fangs jutting out from weird places in her jaw and the roof of her mouth. But of the opposite gender, her voice was as smooth as velvet and was as hypnotic as LSD. Eyes glinting in the sun, she picked up a slender paw and flicked a few bugs out from under her claw with a grimace before nodding her approval at her manicure and dropping it to the ground again.

"Oh where oh where are my little play things?" she cooed, looking around for another wolf or anything else, really, Rosen wasn't picky. "Little Rose red is bored." she whispered to no one while stalking the rows of exactly identical hedges again. Yes, Rosenrot meant Rose Red, and she commonly called herself that. Rose Red is a euphemism for blood, and this made her smile. Far from the sweet, innocent girl she used to be.

Following a small pup for a while, she grinned. It was a female, so no doubt she'd look like a hideous monster to this kid. She transformed into the monster before the pup's eyes in an instant, her features fading to a disgusting facade "Hey there sweetie." she said, voice low and gravely now. "Where's your mommy?" the red lights that shone out of the black holes in where her eyes should be resting would look to this female and would only be seen by the gender that she currently shared. The pup turned around, quivering scared and jumped- nearly having a heart attack when she saw the grotesque Rosen. "Oh I won't bite." she whispered menacingly, stepping closer to the pup. "I'll take one big one, you won't feel a damn thing, honey." Her bones jutted out of the ripped edges of the hides that were nothing but sewn patches and the sinew could possibly be seen. Her teeth cracked and fell out of her mouth as she walked and her paws oozed black and red from minute lacerations.

The pup went faint, dropping to the ground like a fly. Rosen grinned to herself. "Well I'll never loose my golden touch, will I?" she laughed greatly, her rambunctious sounds echoing off of the hedges and leafy walls in the maze. She got pure enjoyment out of the pain and suffering of others, just as that yearling male had gained pleasure from her pain as a pup. Come to think of it, that pale pup reminded her of herself. Scared, alone, afraid. This just made Rosenrot want to step back and kill it while it was down. Effectively killing part of herself in the process. Anything that reminded her of her must be destroyed.

She stepped back, swatted the pup a few times, and in thinking that no fun would come with killing and torturing an unconscious wolf, she let it go. Rosen rounded the sharp green corners of the maze. "Oh I know there are plenty here. Would you like to come out and play?" she giggled, the sound sharper then a diamond autopsy knife. "Don't be afraid of ol' Rosy red, it's inside all of you." there was that euphemism again. Blood. and everyone seemed to have gallons of the stuff. But no matter how much Rosen got, she couldn't get enough. "I'm inside all of you." she grinned.

Indeed blood was in all of them, and she had fathered many bastard children. All residing inside demons that resided inside their mothers, Rosen was guaranteed to have at least one hundred children by now. But of course, they were rape babies and she was a male while conceiving them. But all in all, they were still her poor demonized bastard children. And all they needed was a signal from their parent and they'd come running like an army.

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