Imagine, if you will, a knight.

Great! Now take the person out of it and replace it with a faceless amalgamation made from Chaos itself.

V-Chaos-Thirteen is about eleven feet tall and mostly muscle and chitin. What you would assume to be armour is a chitin exoskeleton that's completely black and iridescent with dark green. It sheds said exoskeleton fairly regularly: about every second cycle. Its new, softened shell is much more greener until it hardens again. If its casing gets too damaged, it might shed said exoskeleton much sooner: though at great exertion to the Valkhound.

It's sectioned off into pieces to supply natural armour while still remaining fairly agile. Though Thirteen is mostly a creature of brute strength, it's fairly quick, too. You'll find no indication of straps or the crinkling of cloth and leathers on it. Any part where the "armour" doesn't go is hard and almost scaled and ridged like treebark.

Thirteen's gauntlets end in sharp claws-- as does its sabatons, supplying some natural weaponry. It moves in a complete, eerie silence-- when it isn't growling and spitting, of course.

Though its eyes aren't usually visible, they do seem to be somewhere. Thirteen doesn't seem to have any particular issue with seeing. Its helmet does appear to be its face; the visor splits open to reveal a many-toothed jaw and neon, blue-green gums. The teeth layer down its throat like a fish and point backwards. Getting caught in its throat is ill-advised.

There is a faint glow that surrounds Thirteen's flesh, including its gums and tongue. Its tongue is long, thick and prehensile-- it reaches about four feet fully extended and is sticky. Usually, it is also covered in a thin layer of oil: oftentimes, Thirteen is spitting and drooling oil in general. Its voice is deep and coarse like feet dragging through gravel. It sounds like someone who has been smoking several thousand cigarettes a day for years.

Its oilstone gemstone is somewhere in the floor of its mouth. But good luck getting a look at it.

There does indeed seem to be hair coming out of its "helmet." It's silky like a horsetail, though Thirteen doesn't seem to have any particular feeling or control over it.

You might expect someone who looks like a knight to act like a knight.

V-Chaos-Thirteen acts more like a dog.

A problem dog. One that's been stuck in the shelter for too long because it's frankly unfit to be rehomed. Like many dogs that have gone through traumatic instances, Thirteen has a terrible habit of resource guarding. Anything that it deems belonging to it are closely-kept secrets and strangers seeing or-- God forbid --touching their precious things are snapped at. No, not metaphorically. Those jaws aren't just for show, you know.

Similarly, Thirteen seems to be wary of when its next meal will be. When faced with the prospect of food it eats like its life depended on it, or with the fervor of someone who thinks it might be taken away from them. It growls and bites and scurries away with whichever scraps of meat it can get.

Like most dogs, there is an ounce of potential loyalty to be found somewhere beneath all the chitin. It's nowhere to be seen now, of course: but it doesn't mean it can't be nutured out with care and a hand full of treats. For now, though, Thirteen listens only to who feeds it and will turn cloak for its next meal. It does not dream nor does it really seem to want to: its only amibiton is a full belly.

It remains to be seen if it can be coaxed out of its desperate nature.

Created by Totum in Cycle 119. Hatched in Cycle 120.