Loki

[Cam]

Chaos is my middle name

Name: Loki
Gender: Male
Age: 25 Moons (2 years 1 month)
Species: Brazilian Barn Owl - T. a. tuidara
Kingdom: The Pure Ones
Position: -- (I don't remember the positions in the Pure Ones!)

i am alive, i am alive, i am alive
i promise I'm a well intentioned explosion
here comes the light, here comes the light, here comes the light
give me that light.
today we give ourselves to the fire--

[/i]

Description/Picture:
Never before has an owl taken so strongly after the sun as Loki. The traditional gray pebbling on T. a. alba has been replaced by a robust orange that almost seems to glow in the night sky, as if lit by Apollo himself. Even his facial disc, although still white, is tinged with an orangish glow; it amost looks like he has on permament eye shadow. Contrasted with his dark eyes it can give him the spooking effect of a jack o' lantern. especially when they spark with rage in the heat of battle. His wings, barred elegantly above with bands of rich orange and chocolate brown, are a gorgeous cream beneath; when he flies, they almost give the imression of a flickering flame.

His wingspan is typical for that of a male of his species, but he's a little on the plump side from the cushy life of a barn owl in the Pure Ones. He has, to date, managed to keep himself mostly scar-free; the ones that he does have are hidden by feathers and are usually only visible during a particuarly intense molt.

He speaks with a tinge of a strange accent; although it doesn't usually affect other's ability to understand him it's really largely dependent on the individual owl. Most of the Pure Ones are used to his accent; but even high-ranking owls have had to ask Loki to repeat a word or sentence on occasion.

Personality:
Loki has complete and udder hatred for any owl that isn't a Tyto alba. Although he manages to squash it slightly when it comes to masked owls, sooties, and other Tyto, it is only for the sake of the smooth functioning of the group that he does so. Anything else, however, is fair game. Where other owls curse Glaux or Glaomora, Loki will curse spotted owls or fish owls.

Within the group, he's taken on a reputation as the used car salesman. This owl could sell scales to a nest-snake, or convince a snowy he's not really white after all but instead bright pink. Loki can keep his cool in even the most heated situations. There is an exception to this - taunt his accent and he will come right off his rock. Loki's greasy voice has even been known to add fuel to the fire for his own amusement. Typical of his namesake, he is deceitful, a trickster, the liar who never truly lies but instead manages to bend the truth just a wee bit past the breaking point.

He's extremely superstitious, however - never eat prey tail first, because it will chew out of your gizzard. Never touch the molted feathers of another owl, because yours will fall out - strange things, really, and no one knows for sure where he picked most of them up. He's also paranoid about cleanliness and spends an abnormal amount of time keeping himself clean. Although he can fight, he prefers to keep his talons out of such 'messy' business.

Loki has a rather irritating habit of physically harassing and generally flirting with the other male Pure Ones; it's a mystery as to if he actually means anything by it or if he's just doing it to annoy the other owls or to - as he does best - raise a little hell. Either way, it's gotten him into some tight spots before, especially with the more up-tight owls.

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

History:
Loki is bred and born Pure One, although it isn't in the traditional manner; he was, indeed, born outside of the cult. His parents, in the Tyto forest, were never highly regarded by the other owls. They were a rough-and-tumble type, and so were their children, picking fights at every oppertunity and irritating the other Tyto with their strange accents.

His parents weren't from the forest, per say, they were from someplace else - some place southern, although he was never entirely sure where. They spoke of warm times spent near the ocean, where salt hung heavy in the air and a strange bird they called seagull wheeled about, screaming with calls that were harsher than a crow's. They told the chicks tales they themselves had learned from when they first arrived there from their homeland of swirling snow - tales like that of how Loki got his name - with their thick, foreign accents.

He always felt, and his parents always felt, that because they were T. alba they should be granted all that came with that position, from the best nests in the forest to the easiest pickings on the hunt. When they found that this wasn't the case, it wasn't how things functioned in the forest, they were outraged - but they kept their rage to the nest, muttering it to their chicks instead of voicing it to a more appropriate audience.

Loki was, of course, very impressionable at this age, and he took his parent's mutterings about "Idiot sooties" and "stupid spotties" quite seriously. If his parents were that enraged, if they had taken as much from them as his parents said, then they were to be hated. There was clearly something wrong with them. This gradually extended into a hatred for anything that wasn't a Tyto alba, from massive fishing owls to the tiniest diggers.

When Loki left the nest, he brought this hatred with him, and soon he began to catch mutterings on the breeze - an entire flock of owls that thought just like him. Of course, the other owls spoke of them in hushed tones, as if they were terrible - but Loki, hah! Loki loved the idea, and so he set off in search of this mysterious organization. He eventually found them, in the form of a small group of Tyto harassing a scopes owl.

"Are you from this group everyone is talking about?" He had asked, and they had looked at him as if he'd just asked them if they were trout. Yes, they said, of course we are, we are from the Pure Ones. What's it to ya?

And so Loki returned with them to the base camp of the Pure Ones, where he was, of course, welcomed with open wings and smiles. A barn owl, Tyto alba, albeit one that was little more orange than usual; he was more than welcome to join with their cult, and so he did, quite happily, and that's where he finds himself today.
IC: See any of Cam's posts
Other:
Lyrics: Today We Give Ourselves To The Fire - Cloud Cult