ASHER.

Personality: Personality wise... I don't much act my age, but then, honestly who the fuck does? I've been compared to acting like a puppy, and honestly, I won't deny that. I love to play, I love to romp around... Granted, I'm an old fart of a dog, and I'm openly a dirty old man. I get off on watching the little ones play, and fight for dominance. I get nostalgic, easily, remembering my younger days, especially when I find myself attached to one single individual. I'll find myself seeing parts of myself with in them, seeing things of how I used to be, and I'll start to miss it. Why do you think I prefer pups to dogs my own age? Who doesn't want to get that youth back that they lost to their age? I have no shame in saying that a lot of what I do, is purely for selfish reasons. Being labeled as a pedophile just comes with the personality traits that I happen to posses.

Am I foul mouthed? Shit yeah, I really am. Why? It's the way I was raised. Momma, and many of her bitches where foul mouthed individuals. I grew up hearing such words, and even used them at a early age. I've never been one to clean up my mouth, even when asked. Quite simply, I really can't. Curse words aren't words I really even notice I'm saying, just like you wouldn't notice you're saying something like 'um', or 'like' or whatever the hell you'd say. Am I an asshole? To those who are assholes back. I know a few of those I've kept could have complaints that I was to rough.. But I could have been much worse. I've seen it before, after all. Got it all so far?

Let's face it. I'm your typical old pervert. I crack a sex joke from time to time, bust a nut. They just tickle my boys. I don't generally care who hears it, I'll just pop them out. But who hasn't cracked a joke about something that's big and long, and oh my god thick too? Ha-ha. The world, and life revolves around sex; it's natural to want to poke a joke or two at something that's quite literally shoved in your face. Since, don't we all know that the 'beautiful sound of nature' is every living thing desperately trying to get fucked? On another note, in relation to a sexual topic, no, I'm not gay.

Or, well, as Momma would have said 'I'm no fucking faggot'. I never much cared for the word 'faggot' myself, but I've heard it tossed around quite a bit. Doesn't offend me much; nothing really ever does. Ah fuck, there I go, babbling like an old man! Back on topic, with ya, ya old dick. But no, I don't strictly prefer penis. Ladies are fair game in my mind too. I find either gender to be quite attractive, but I do tend to lean more towards males. Not exactly sure why though; perhaps because I've always been exposed to same sex couples, and the fact that I engaged in many homosexual acts in my past? Who the fuck knows, who the fuck cares honestly! As long as my fancy is tickled, I could care less about the rest.

Shut up. Shut the hell up. Asher, shut the fuck up! I used to hear those words quite a lot as a young one. I've always had a slight problem with not being able to shut my mouth. Don't ask me why, I honestly don't know. I can talk for hours on end, and half the shit I say is quite literally pointless, it's all - usually - meaningless babble that my mouth vomits forth.

My temper... Is something of which even after this long I don't quite understand. I've tried to control it, and a lot of times I really can.. That is until just the right button is pushed and I see red. Before I know it, I'm usually coming too attacking someone. I admittedly feel pretty guilty for not being able to control my temper as well as a man my age should be able to... But I try to, I really do. It just happens with out me even realizing it, you've got to believe that much at least! If you believe nothing else I tell you, please do believe that I don't want to hurt anyone. I'm not a malicious creature; I wish no ill-will on anyone. Only a few have earned my hate, and they rightfully have it for the things they'd done. I'm an old man; I don't need anyone hating me anymore like I admittedly had the desire for when I was a young and hormone filled boy.

You can't judge me, and hate me and claim that I've sinned. I'm aware that I'm not exactly in the right with what I do... But I've accepted that I'll probably burn for those things, and honestly I don't mind to much. I've led an interesting life. When I see it roll out before me, and I'm asked about it, I won't deny or regret anything. Not one thing. Everything that's happened to me, the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the flat out fucking ugly, that shit's all happened to me for a reason. It's made me who I am, and really.. I'm not ashamed of who I am, regardless of the things I do. The way I look at things, you're either going to hate my guts, or you're going to flat out fucking love me. I chose to believe that there's no in-between; I can't stand that love-hate shit that goes on so often now-days. Your life is yours, do with it what you will, and just fuck the rest!

I'm a happy individual despite leading a life of love, pain, and sex, sometimes all three at once. It is what it is, really. I've chosen to be happy, rather than to let the bad things drag me down. I'm old, I deserve to be happy, right? Life life to the fullest, is what I always say. But really... Despite being happy, and shameless, I'm not going to spill my guts to you. That's just not who I am, to be honest.



Appearance: Photo included.



History: My birth wasn’t much of anything. I had a momma, and I had a brother and a sister. You see, Momma was a self-centered, bitch of a mother, who wasn’t exactly all there. There were two adults in my early life; Momma and Valafar. They were a cute couple, sure, and Valafar kept Momma in check. But a lot didn’t look upon our little family of five approvingly. You see, both Momma and Valafar were females. Most that resided in the same pack as us… Or, well if you could call it a pack that is, weren’t so approving. At a young age, our small family were cast out, left for dead. Valafar was a fucking traitor, a backstabber, a bitch who needed to die for what she did to us. She was my favorite, and I was her favorite, and she chose that stupid pack over us! It ruined my young heart, and toughened me. Perhaps I should thank Valafar? Little did I know though, I would later get the chance to do just that.

Though, Momma, Toby, and Eli and I got through the next few months. Momma found her another bitch ( I never referred to Momma’s lovers, as ‘lovers’ or ‘ladies’ or anything. In my mind, they were simply Bitches. Most of them, I could thank for the state of my mind, and mouth now. ) named Flea. The Mange Ridden mutt’s name fit her well, since she was always clawing at her skin. I didn’t much like Flea, even from the start. She liked Eli and Toby too much in my opinion. I remember hearing Momma ask her, once, why she didn’t like me so much. ”Because he looks too much like his father,” Flea had answered, in her scratchy, always shaky voice. That set off a hatred though, which only came forth when I came into our den to find the bitch toying with Toby. No adult dog should touch a pup like that, ever! I flipped. I, thanks to my father, was quite large, and Flea wasn’t much larger than a Border Collie. My size alone over powered her, since I was about the size of a Boxer dog. The fact that I was fueled by pure rage only gave me strength, and by the time I was able to force myself to stop, Flea had basically had the living tar beaten out of her. I wasn’t ashamed of what I’d done. ”You stupid bitch,” I snarled, as I dragged her out of our den. ”Get the hell out of here. Or I will kill your sorry ass.”  She didn’t hesitate, didn’t put up a fight as she picked up herself, and her dignity and began to limp off. I stared at her. Should have given her a taste of her own medicine, the thought was in my mind before I could stop it. Where had that came from? I shook my head, as I pushed it off, and went back to comfort my sister, Toby, who was terrified. But… Not of Flea. Of me.

That made me worry, since for a long time after that, Toby avoided me. She blamed me for what had happened, said that I should have been there before her innocence was stolen. I hated myself, hated Toby for blaming me. Though, there was another emotion there, that I had never experienced before. Now that worried me, but I forgot it after a while, the emotion going away. Though, by that time, Momma had found another. I had come to realize that my mother was a whore, but then again, I guess everyone knew that. But, there were things that Momma began to notice. I was much like my father, and that for some reason worried her. I questioned her about it, but she bluntly refused to answer my questions.

By now, I was nearly a year old. Eli and Toby were still fully dependent on Momma still, too scared to venture far for fear of being hurt. I, on the other hand was more willing to wander off for a day or two before showing my face again. No one ever questioned where I went; I think Momma thought I was doing something ‘naughty’. Not in my mind, anyways. Unless you counted following others, watching them as ‘naughty’. Like I said earlier, by this time, Momma had her a new bitch, named Verona. She was a young little thing, being a good three years younger than Momma. She was a pretty thing too, looked a good deal younger than she really was, being one of those breeds that always looks a bit pup-like. Something about that made my brain tick. It was in that moment that I realized that there wasn't something quite right in my mind. I didn't much have time to figure it out though. Momma found Verona with a pretty little boy named Madrox, and chased her off. My momma's hunt for another bitch started again. During this time, I started wandering farther.

After about a year, Momma had had a pretty little bitch by the name of Miima around for quite some time. I didn't much mind the old lab mutt. She was nice, and made Momma happy. She didn't mess with my siblings, or me, so I couldn't complain at all. I think I even grew to see Miima as a second mother... That is until I came home from wandering one day, Momma had taken Toby and Eli out to find food, while Miima had stayed home sick with something. I smelled the scent of a male, and knew pretty well that I'd find Miima in the throws of sex with him.. Or so I thought. He was on her, that much I knew... But it wasn't pleasure. Miima was scared, terrified. When she saw me, she whined for help. I don't really know what it is with me, and those I care about.. But I snapped quite easily. I attacked the smaller male, forcing him off of Miima, and dragged him out of the den. I didn't hold back like I did on Flea. I let out any anger I had on this bastard who dared to touch Miima with out her permission. He'd been quite for quite some time by the time Miima stumbled out, and told me to stop, forcing herself between me and the dead male's body. I'd killed him.. And I didn't even know how I'd done it. Terrified, I ran.

Five months of being alone, five months of near solitary confinement with nothing but what I killed to eat to talk to. Perhaps I went a little bit crazy in that time.. But I'd killed someone, and hadn't meant to! Anyone would go crazy! But then, I met a four year old male, named Uval. I found it weird that I found myself so attracted to him.. But I just couldn't help it! His thick white fur, and adorable face drew me in, as well as that lovable 'old man' personality that he had just captured me. I was head over paw for the male. Why? Hell if I know. We clicked easily, and made, or so I thought, quite the couple. Uval was the first lover I'd ever had. He'd had quite a few though, and knew what to do. He taught me a lot. Now that I think about it.. He taught me things I shouldn't have needed to know.. Like how to  use older males to my advantage. He'd told me that if something had ever happened to him, that using older males would take me a good hell of a way, especially if I became their boy toy.

I spent along time with Uval, being just a few months past my three year mark, when he came to our 'home' looking as if something had torn into him. Worried, I panicked, questioning him. "Uval, what happened?" Nothing, he'd told me. Nothing at all. Dumbshit was torn up, and he expects me to believe nothing? No. No. No. I forced him to tell me. "An old lover attacked me.. It was a bad break up.. Really bad.. He caught me cheating on him.. With someone I was with before you even stumbled along... He's got my death etched into his mind. It's his goal to kill me.. And I'm going to let him, Asher. I've lived, and had the time of my life with you.. I've lived a truly happy four years, and these past few months with you.. Have made every godawful thing I've ever done seem pointless. I love you Asher, I really do.. But you don't need me anymore.. And besides.. He injured me in a way that I know is going to kill me," He told me. "You're crazy, Uval.. I can protect you. You know I can! I wouldn't let anyone hurt you," He shook his head, pained. "No.. Asher, it's how things have to be," He told me, that glimpse of a soul much older than his body soothing me a little. I nodded slowly. "As you wish, my love," I murmured quietly, feeling wretchedly heartbroken. "Good boy, Asher... Now.. I have someone for you to go meet.. A nice older fella, by the name of Mal," He said, then going on to explain how to find and talk to this so called 'Mal'. I left Uval alone, or so he thought. I lurked around, and watched as my first love was godawfully, and brutally slaughtered by a massive brute of a dog, with nothing but bloodlust in his eyes. There was no mercy, no compassion. No glimpses of the former lover that the brute could have been. He gutted, and ripped Uval apart. And then left the scene a bloody mess to what ever might have stumbled along. Horror struck, but thankful that I hadn't followed the strict order to not stick around, I buried Uval's remains as best I could. I couldn't help but hope a demise ten times worse met the bastard who had done this to Uval. I hoped the brute had his head ripped, off, and his body strewn apart. Perhaps eaten too, anything to make his death worse than Uvals. Even then, I thought, it wouldn't match what he truly deserves for slaughtering Uval in such a monstrous and brutal way.

I followed Uval's words none the less, and found Mal. The Shepherd mutt was pretty much petrified. Ancient. Old as hell itself. It was shocking that the old bat was still alive, but he was a kindly old fella. If you pleasured him right, that is. I did what Uval told me, did what Mal told me. I paid my time off, and even made a friend out of a lover. I became what Uval referred to as 'kept'. Mal was my first, and I was his last. Beautiful how it worked out, really. A few days after I turned four years old.. I woke up beside Mal, and found him dead, having passed away peacefully in his sleep. It comforted me, honestly, to know that someone could go so peacefully. All I had seen of death was pain, and blood, and remorse. Mal had died happy... And the fact that I had made love to him, actual love, made me think that perhaps I was one of the reasons that he went happily, with out a struggle. I took the time to bury him properly, before I started to wander, hopping from dog to dog... Until I met a certain ten year old stud named Vish.

He was an attractive dog, for being so old; a hound of true class was exactly what he was. A Pharaoh hound, I believe he called himself. A deep red, and a pristine snow white made up his fur, while a deep mahogany brown made up his captivating, and wise beyond compare eyes. If one thing held true for an old dog though... Vish was almost always in the mood for some one on one play time. And honestly, the old man knew how to show a boy like myself a good time, so who was I to object to his sexual pleas? By the time Vish grew tied of me, and sent my on my way, I was nearly five and a half years old. I left him to himself, giving him one last hour of play, before I left, setting off by myself once more.

I grew tied of being kept though, having a few more old dogs keep me around. None where quite as good as Vish, and none quite as nice as Mal. They where decent, at best. Quite a few though, I found where complete and utter, pure, bitch-whipping assholes who cared nothing for those that they kept, only how much sex and playtime they could get. Dumb male-whores; a few pissed me off to the point where I actually broke them by complete accident. No pain, no shame, no fucking guilt. I felt nothing for those few; they'd done nothing but abuse me. I wasn't Momma, I wasn't Tobi. I wasn't going to take no bullshit from anyone, not even someone who kept me up was going to treat me like I was property. I was six before I had my first boy-toy. An attractive little collie mix named Pruflas. The poor boy was quite stunning, even if he was boney and had low self esteem. I fattened  him up though, and made him see just how beautiful he was. He started to believe me, after a particularly... Er... Eventful night. When he realized just how excited he could get me.. Things got quite interesting after that. For three months, Pruflas stayed with me, before he told me that he had a son that he wanted me to meet. The pup was only about seven months old. Quite the adorable little thing, he was. His name was Tokla.

I felt dirty for the thoughts that the little pup conjured up in my mind. I couldn't help it, don't you see that?! I couldn't! Just the very sent of him thrilled me, excited me to no end.. I made friends with him, played games with him, anything to give myself a justified excuse to even press my nose into his side for a second and drink in  his sweet, soft sent. When he fell into a stream one day.. That just gave me an excuse to lick him, taste him. Feeling his fur, his body heat, feeling the small tiny tremors that ran through his fragile little body.. I took him off with me the next day, when Pruflas was out looking for food. Into a small hidden area, and told him to tell me what he knew. "I know you like me. Daddy told me to be careful around you. He said that he thought you liked to play with little ones like me," I flushed a little at the statement, but shrugged it off and chuckled. "Little Tokla, your Daddy is right... I do admittedly find you to be quite the handsome little fellow... You excite me. A lot. But, Tokla, I would never hurt you. Grandpa Asher would never hurt you. You're far to sweet, and to much of a good little boy to need any sort of punishment. I only ask one thing of you Tokla... Never tell Daddy that he was right. Never tell him what I have told you today. Promise me this, Tokla, will you?" I asked him, laying down on my stomach to look into his stunning brown eyes. "Let Grandpa Asher play with you. I won't hurt you, I promise. You'll like it.. And I'll love it. If you get scared, you tell me, and I'll stop. Just one play session, and then I'll never touch you like this again, okay little one?" I asked him quietly, nudging him slightly. He nodded, and I grinned. "Thank you, little Tokla," I told him, before I started my game. Sweet God it was the best in my life.

Sick. Twisted. Fucked up. I knew I was every horrible word I could be called that could be associated with a title such as 'Pedophile'. I just had to accept a fact about myself, that I'd never wanted to accept before, and that would get me judged endlessly, and hated. I liked young ones, pups, children. How had Momma birthed something as fucked up as me?!

Slowly, Tokla, and Pruflas distanced themselves, and eventually they disappeared all together one day. I was nearly seven years old at this time, only about three months short, and I started wandering again. I came to a city known as Hexasol, where I've been since.

Season born: Autumn.

RP Sample:
Dark eyes peered out of the seemingly endless stretched of sand. Tiny, white
grains, that never washed away no matter how much they where beaten by
the ocean of which they rested beside. The water surged in, not caring
what it washed over, who it crashed over. With a hiss, it charged back
out, the simple pattern being broken every other time, as a second wave
tried to surge in before it's companion had fully been swept back out.
The tide was low, at that particular moment, the distant pier showing
more of it's stilt like post, than it had been, several hours before. It
was strange, if one really thought about it, how earth's night brother
had such influence on the substance of which covered most of the earth.
The morning fog hung heavily over the ocean, slowly rolling in from it's
home several miles out. The misty haze blocked a small amount of light,
giving the light that could be seen behind it, oddly distorted as it
tried to pass through the moisture that hung before it. The air was
filled with the salty tang of the ocean's waters, and the distinct reek
of fish, and seaweed. The cried of seabirds danced through the air,
annoying any and all that happened to be able to hear them. The air,
slightly cooler than usual, having been touched by autumn's chilly
fingers, too to be handed over to winter's icy clutch. Many of the
beings in Cascaro hung onto the spring, and summer months, clutching
onto the heat like one clutches a lover, relishing in the soothing
warmth of which it put out.

White pillars paced effortlessly
along the cliff side, carrying the scrawny canine towards the looming
tower that stretched high above the heads of any and all. Dark kissers
parted slightly, a pale pink tongue lolling out as the dog panted. A
slight breeze disturbed the brute's fur, as he strode onward, lengthy,
slender legs carrying his slender body easily over the ground. Many
wouldn't think him capable of much destruction; though he had the will,
the vile spirit, and the knowledge to do so. The brute kept his senses
alert, spying for any other living creature. Dark brown optics gazed
over the rocky ground, at the cliff face that started to one side of
him. He chuckled at the thought of someone taking a 'fall' down the
side. They certainly wouldn't survive, with the large boulders at the
bottom. Their bones would be broken, and if they landed right, they
would probably get their gut ripped open, their internal organs spilling
out. A sick thought indeed. The brute enjoyed the thought, and simply
because of that he couldn't help but let a cold wicked grin dance across
his muzzle.

He suddenly was faced with an opening; the door of
the light-house. In to the looming tower, the brute went, with out a
second thought of what might lay ahead. He blinked, eyes aching in the
sudden gloom as they rushed to adjust to the new light. He padded
forward, being faced with boxes, and the stench of birds. He let out a
bark, sending two gulls flashing into the air, with startled screeches.
He jumped, as one flew above his head, taking a reckless move in it's
mad dash to get to safety. His jaws snapped on it's foot, dragging it
down to earth, slamming the bird onto the ground. He pinned the bird
down, placing a single paw on each wing, splaying the bird. It
struggled, squawking, and clawing at him. He laughed. 'Escape is futile, little bird.'
The amuse thought crossed the brute's mind. He parted his jaws,
grasping a mouth full of feathers. With a hard pull, they snapped out of
the bird's flesh, leaving small welts, drops of blood bubbling out of
them. A sadistic grin danced across the brute's muzzle, distorting his
face slightly, as he continued to put the bird through agony, laughing
as the bird screeched with each feather pulled out, struggling madly to
get away from this beast that was torturing it.

The Irish Setter
slowly moved his right paw, gripping the bird's left wing in his mouth.
He could see the fear in the bird's black beady eye. It knew what
was about to happen. It started flapping, struggling as soon as it did.
The brute slowly tightened his grip, slowly, oh so slowly crushing the
bones in the bird's wing. With the slow crunching of bone, the bird
screeched, it's agonized cries echoing through the lighthouse. Placing
his paw back on the birds wing, he gripped the bird's neck in his jaws.
Removing his paws from it's wings he slowly started to shake his head;
like a puppy with a toy. That's all this was to him, a game, a sick
twisted game, and nothing more. He didn't intend to eat the bird; he
wasn't hungry. Then why, bother to kill? Simply out of the sick joy of
it. The bird's neck snapped it's straggled cries cutting off as it's
body slumped limply in his jaws. He dropped the bird, the bloody, limp
body piled in a heap at his paws. Many would have left the bird as it
is, but no, he was going t take it farther.

He took a paw,
turning the bird over onto it's back once more, the blood soaked, mostly
featherless body coating his white paw in crimson. The male's cold eyes
glittered with a nearly insane enjoyment at what he was doing. He
parted his jaws, sinking his fangs into the bird's abdomen, ripping it
open. He then proceeded to pick the bird up, it's insides spilling out
with a sickening 'plop'. At this point, many would have lost the
contents of their stomach, the reek now coming form the bird and it's
pile of guts, was almost over whelming. With a low chuckle, he carried
the bird several feet, it's intestines trailing behind him, as he
walked. He dropped the bird as he came to the base of a set of stairs.

He
continued up the steps, leaving the dead bird at the bottom step,
making a trail of bloody paw-prints as he continued up, taking no time
to be cautious about where he placed his paw. He soon found himself at
the top of the steps, the creaking of rusted metal, and the low hum of
machinery evident closer towards the spinning light. He stood, looking
out over the cliffs, standing where the harsh gusty wind wouldn't blow
his fur. He'd lurk here for a while, see what time brought to him;
another victim perhaps? Who knew, one would just have to wait, and see.

(( It's a bit old, but it works, I suppose. <3 ))

Link to image of character: Here