Post by ' ' K.O.T.O.R.I. on Aug 3, 2009 12:06:03 GMT -5
KINX
" I feel it on the inside
Twisting and contorting
Memory has shaped me once again
Still feel you on the inside
Biting through and stinging
Will I ever forget to remember?"
the basics,
»»character full name: Kinx
»»age: 36 seasons (9 years)
»»species: Mexican Grey Wolf
»»pack: Canitao
»»status in pack: Dunno yet.
the appearance,
»»eyes: Web eyes. Originally honey brown, but a film is starting to creep its way over the iris like a web.
»»markings: Her left ear has been torn off, and her right foreleg mutilated, half of the foreleg missing, paw completely gone.
»»height: 30 inches
»»weight: 75 pounds
»»general appearance: You're wondering, are you not, the look of this wolf? Strange, you must be thinking with missing forepaw, missing ear, strange, half-blind, fey eyes. So small, you notice. How could she ever survive? How is she even old? Is she attractive still? Or old and haggard? Is she nasty? It's a natural reaction to her, to be sure, so don't be ashamed. She'll forgive you. Birthed into a race of smaller wolves, the little Mexican Grey was destined to be smaller framed than the other wolves which roamed the plains and the mountains and she has had quite a lengthy time to get used to it. Standing only at 30 inches at the shoulder, and rather slim with it (weighing only 75 pounds) she is a creature meant for speed. Little paws, little legs but a duration, and light-weightedness that made her seem to fly over the ground. Nothing could have stopped her: there was sheer power in her body as her muscles unbent from their shape around her muscles and let loose speed.
Slender, it is her pelt which makes her look much bigger than she is, a double layer of fur dividing underfur and guard hair. The underfur, white with streaks of Grey, soft as downy, and silky smooth is still the same even with her old age. It keeps her warm in the coldest of winters and give her a measure of protection against foreign jaws that seek to kill her. The second layer of fur, while more flamboyant serves a similar purpose. Her fur is the mottled colors of her breed; bright orange and reds color the rims of her ears, along the nape of her neck, thinning out into a darker tan until it turns to brown, and muted whites. Her muzzle is comprised of mostly white, as is her chest and underbelly, but dark splotches of brown and black begin to weave into her fur and around the flanks. Though this doesn't necessarily make her beautiful, there is a certain startling allure to the mixture. Kinx has never been thought to have been beautiful, even before the mutilation of her paw and her ear, and the myriad scars of dominance battles has pockmarked her back, and sides. Her eyes are filmy now, where once they had been sharp and honey-brown. Some swore that gold glittered in their depths but now, with the web-eye casting a net over her eyes, and making her sight dimmer, and milkier, it is nothing but a lame, torpid beige color that sees poorly in the daylight. Oftentimes when there is nothing but darkness she can distinguish things better, but Kinx has gotten used to the habit of relying on her other senses to survive.
It does not help matters that she is old, and that what strength she did have is slowly diminishing. Her bones hurt her if she walks for too long, and often her back will start to crack from stress of running too far, too fast. Of food she has become a carrion eater and it is obvious in the way the hollows dip in her hips. Still, there is flesh on her bones, and a fierce passion burning in her heart and though she is old and nearing death there is no one who has yet to gainsay her existence. Kinx, strange creature that she is, does not fear death, it having been a thorough companion throughout her life.
the personality,
»»likes:
»»dislikes:
»»strengths:
»»weaknesses:
»»secrets: Her past, her disfigurement. She doesn't tell anyone.
the history,
»»mother: Feather (deceased)
»»father: Caiun (deceased)
»»siblings: Immediate::
»»others:
Mates:
Pups:
1st litter
[li]Cathan (M;; Adult;;deceased)
[/li][li]Laoise (F;; Pup;;deceased)
[/li][li]Isolde (F;; Adult;; living)
[li]Diarmaid (M;; Adult;; living)
[/li][li]Jarlach (M;; Pup;;deceased) [/li][/ul]
Torro::
1st litter
[/li][li]Caellach (M;; Adult;; living)
[/li][li]Keely (F;; Adult;; living)
[/li][li]Labhras (M;; Adult;;deceased)
[/li][li]Nuala (F;; Adult;; living)
Reilly::
1st litter
[/li][li]Isibeal (F;; Adult;; living)
[/li][li]Maire (F;; Adult;;deceased)
[li]Daly **(M;; Pup;;deceased)
[/li][li]Driscoll (M;; Pup;;deceased)
[/li][li]Lamont (M;; Adult;; living)
[/li][li]Nora (F;; Pup;;deceased)
[/li][/ul][/li][/ul]
[/size]
»»background:
Some would say Kinx loved too fiercely in her own way, others would say she didn't love enough, not nearly enough for the way the world ran. For sure how could such a thing pass that the wolf, the decrepit being that crept into your lands and stole your caches could have been powerful? Could have given birth to five litters, could have mated with three different males, and outlived every single one? The ignorant would cry tears for her, the skeptical would keep a wary distance, and who really knew which one was the wiser? Who knew if it was Fate's hand that was pushing this wolf to this land, to do only what she wills? Perhaps it didn't matter but still the story itself is lengthy, and perhaps to some it is uninteresting. But to her, to Kinx, the small Mexican Grey who knew the story by heart, could still remember the pain of walking that path and managing to live through it when all she wanted to do was die... well, it wasn't so boring to her. It was chaotic, it was frightening, it was infuriating. She loved, make no mistake, she loved with a burning heart that only youth could really bring, but lets take a few steps back. You must understand her, to know why she picked her path, why she tread the curving line of earth and let herself be pulled by Fate's wicked hand.
She was born.
To who? To Feather and Caiun. She was not the strongest, was not the most precious - nothing so special that preordained her greatness, but quite the opposite. In most cases she was forgotten. In most situations she had to fright to speak, to fight to eat, to fight to even breathe and sleep in the place of her choosing. How terrible you must be thinking that a mother and father could so disown a child? Shame on you for thinking such things. The children were adored but it was the way of the wolf to live as a family unit and in this, there was only the truth. The strongest survive and the weakest die. So she fought amongst her brothers and sisters, third child in a litter of four. Their names are unimportant. Like her father, like her mother, they were but a ghost of a memory that peppered her with kisses, with scars that would remain on her pelt when the play became too rough for her, when her bones could not hold her up and there was nothing but the painful knowledge that they could be dead, or they could be living. Most likely dead. She was third youngest, and she barely lived. They, poor dears were most likely dead. Scattered to the wind on their second year of life, their parents died in quick succession. Mother, poor Feather, loving mother, loving Alpha, taken by the water as they sought to cross the icy expanse of the frozen river. Father, Caiun, soon lost his life from sheer grief, his heart stuttering out one night and never starting again. The snows were deep that year.
Next Alpha, some Halo, threatened to kill them and their siblings, so the four left, running from the sharp knives of his fangs and scattered. Who knew which way the wind took them? Kinx, lonely, little Kinx, left alone in the winters, the deep snow drifts, the cold, the starvation -- until she crossed into a pack, a pack she did not know, could not find herself joining, so she lingered, beaten down, skittering out of the way though her jaws ached to slice their throats, to creep into their dens and piss on their cache. Ohhhh, the temptation! The feral, guttural temptation to do what she was forbidden to do. No matter how strong or how fast, she would never outrun a pack, and so she stayed, lingered for three seasons on the very edges of pack-life, wishing herself to be part of the pack while reviling their every glance in her direction. She ate on their forbearance, and hunted alone, in secret.
Until Mict. Large, lovely brute with chaotic black eyes -- though truly brown. Newly joining the pack, he quickly fought his way up into the pack, but his eyes were distant, his nose constantly moving toward the outsider, the lithe little creature that darted in with clever little twists of her muzzle, sneaking out meat when no one but he was truly looking. No one noticed her but he, for she had become a constant companion, a familiar hum of outside life they only the truly bored every gave notice to anymore. But Mict, with his dark eyes, his white fur -- there were marks of battles on his skin, marking him much older than she but it was not long before she was wound about his paw, her young heart fluttering, caged within her breast by sheer manifestation of her existence. It could not fly free or else it would have. When the mating season came, he followed her, and she, exhilarated, led; led as her father had once led, led as her mother had once done with a flick of her tail and tilt of her chin.
So they left, mated, and she, virile creature, gave birth to three pups, her first. Cathan, Laoise, Isolde, but poor Laoise didn't make it past pup-hood, stumbling out of the den when the two were hunting and taken by a mountain lion. His puppy-screams still haunt Kinx's ears from time to time, waking her up in the middle of the night, or when she dozed in the warmth of the sun and she would know horror and grief again, would know the pain of her first loss, her pup which she had loved more than life. She would have died of grief had the other two not needed her, if Mict had not roused her with his quiet, potent ways. Steady eyes, humble spirit. He was strong where she flighty, steady where she was chaotic and it balanced them out so that she crawled out of her hole of depression. The ranks of the newly made pack grew to admit Diarmaid and Jarlach -- poor Jarlach born stillborn.
Pack of five, strong though their numbers were low, they survived the winter to admit three more into the pack -- Torro, giant beast of a wolf, multi-hued like herself and submissive to known but herself, interested in none but herself, and two brothers, Sock and Lock, young, reckless and rowdy but they brought a measure of fun to the pack, often leading a game of tag or chase. When the Heat came to the females, was it any wonder that the brute with mischievous, tender eyes fought Mict for his right to breed her? Probably not, but there was not to be worry yet. No, not yet -- for though it was close and Mict suffered from the battle, he won, the other cast down again though less wounded. Torro waited, a mischievous tilt to his ears as Mict kept himself first and foremost. When tragedy hit, it was not in the form you'd think. Mict tripped over his limping foot during a hunt, trampled by a herd of elk.
Pure grief! She was taken by Torro then, hard, fierce and she knew no tenderness from the coupling, though he was wont to lick her face as her belly grew with pups. Caellach, Keely, Labhras, Nuala -- how fickle fate that would make her former pups die when conceived in love but healthy and perfect when conceived with hatred, with force! They lived, healthy, but Torro did not make it past the year. Perhaps karma did look out for her lucky charm, her little Kinx of the multi-colored fur and the sharp honey-brown eyes. Though Labhras did not make it past his second winter, the pack was eight strong, and Kinx, fighting back the tension that was rising from a one-leader hierarchy, fled during heat, driving off Sock and Lock whenever they sought to mate with her, or her children.
That was the year that Reilly entered into the mix. Six years to his four, it was a strange pairing for sure but he was swift on his feet and strong with it, pushing aside the twin brothers and forcing himself to be noticed. It was so strange to be so transfixed by this attention that was it any wonder that Kinx slowly fell in love again, that she took him as her mate when the world and the pack fidgeted and grew mutinous over the coupling. The brothers were used to going without, but the children, the pups, the yearling, the older ones did not like this meddling and it was with agony that Kinx watched Cathan, the last living pup of Mict battle for Alpha. He would discard her, she knew, as was right but it was painful to watch as Reilly ripped his throat out when he would not submit, when blood was spilled on innocent, virgin snow, their cries echoing up in grief and in triumph. They mated, gave birth to Maire and Isibeal, their second yielding four pups, but only of which Daly survived.
It was in Daly that Kinx found herself fixated, finding so much of Mict in his demeanor, his actions, the way he carried himself. So beautiful with his snow white fur, she coddled him as she shouldn't have. It was painful when her sons and daughters slowly dispersed t make their own path, most especially when a new female, Morningstar came within the pack for the mere purpose of finding a mate, and she did, have no fear. She found one in Daly and lured him away no matter that his mother's grief was awful to behold.
That was until the wench came back scant weeks later, terrified of the pack which followed them, which Daly had drawn off -- in fear, without thought she left the pack, left Reilly behind to chase after her youngest pup, her darling dearest to find that it was much too late and his body was in tatters, torn apart by ravaging wolves too angered by the trespass. 8 years strong now, it wasn't until the seventh year that the web-eye had begun to take hold of her eyes, a slow decay that would eventually destroy her sight. It was for this that she had lost her paw, her ear. She did not see them with the day so bright, her sight dimmed by the glare -- and they attacked her.
A pack of rogues, for no other would have thought to simply attack a grieving mother. Her ear was torn off early in the battle as she sought to run, to get away from the larger, battle hungry wolves but they would not let her go, and one found their jaws around her paw, fiercely tearing flesh from bone and bone from bone. The pain! They let her live thinking without her paw she would die, and she nearly did, but it was winter and the cold sealed the wound, let it heal where it had no right to heal and though starved and embittered she rose from her grave of snow and dried blood and relearned her body. She did not return to her pack, did not do anything but wander as the world turned and she turned with it. Nine years old, still able to breed but who would want to breed a disfigured sow such as herself? Tortured by the pain of her lost limb, by the hearing that was only half-accurate, by sight that saw dimly, and body that was tired from the long travail of her life, Kinx found herself looking for protection, a place where she would spend the last of her days. Perhaps she would breed if they would take her, but death was close to her, and had always been, so she has no doubt it is only fourth beginning of her life.
the player,
»»name: Alicia
»»age: 20
»»contact: pm system!
»»rp sample:
Password: accept
How did you find us?: proboard support ^_^
" I feel it on the inside
Twisting and contorting
Memory has shaped me once again
Still feel you on the inside
Biting through and stinging
Will I ever forget to remember?"
the basics,
»»character full name: Kinx
»»age: 36 seasons (9 years)
»»species: Mexican Grey Wolf
»»pack: Canitao
»»status in pack: Dunno yet.
the appearance,
»»eyes: Web eyes. Originally honey brown, but a film is starting to creep its way over the iris like a web.
»»markings: Her left ear has been torn off, and her right foreleg mutilated, half of the foreleg missing, paw completely gone.
»»height: 30 inches
»»weight: 75 pounds
»»general appearance: You're wondering, are you not, the look of this wolf? Strange, you must be thinking with missing forepaw, missing ear, strange, half-blind, fey eyes. So small, you notice. How could she ever survive? How is she even old? Is she attractive still? Or old and haggard? Is she nasty? It's a natural reaction to her, to be sure, so don't be ashamed. She'll forgive you. Birthed into a race of smaller wolves, the little Mexican Grey was destined to be smaller framed than the other wolves which roamed the plains and the mountains and she has had quite a lengthy time to get used to it. Standing only at 30 inches at the shoulder, and rather slim with it (weighing only 75 pounds) she is a creature meant for speed. Little paws, little legs but a duration, and light-weightedness that made her seem to fly over the ground. Nothing could have stopped her: there was sheer power in her body as her muscles unbent from their shape around her muscles and let loose speed.
Slender, it is her pelt which makes her look much bigger than she is, a double layer of fur dividing underfur and guard hair. The underfur, white with streaks of Grey, soft as downy, and silky smooth is still the same even with her old age. It keeps her warm in the coldest of winters and give her a measure of protection against foreign jaws that seek to kill her. The second layer of fur, while more flamboyant serves a similar purpose. Her fur is the mottled colors of her breed; bright orange and reds color the rims of her ears, along the nape of her neck, thinning out into a darker tan until it turns to brown, and muted whites. Her muzzle is comprised of mostly white, as is her chest and underbelly, but dark splotches of brown and black begin to weave into her fur and around the flanks. Though this doesn't necessarily make her beautiful, there is a certain startling allure to the mixture. Kinx has never been thought to have been beautiful, even before the mutilation of her paw and her ear, and the myriad scars of dominance battles has pockmarked her back, and sides. Her eyes are filmy now, where once they had been sharp and honey-brown. Some swore that gold glittered in their depths but now, with the web-eye casting a net over her eyes, and making her sight dimmer, and milkier, it is nothing but a lame, torpid beige color that sees poorly in the daylight. Oftentimes when there is nothing but darkness she can distinguish things better, but Kinx has gotten used to the habit of relying on her other senses to survive.
It does not help matters that she is old, and that what strength she did have is slowly diminishing. Her bones hurt her if she walks for too long, and often her back will start to crack from stress of running too far, too fast. Of food she has become a carrion eater and it is obvious in the way the hollows dip in her hips. Still, there is flesh on her bones, and a fierce passion burning in her heart and though she is old and nearing death there is no one who has yet to gainsay her existence. Kinx, strange creature that she is, does not fear death, it having been a thorough companion throughout her life.
the personality,
»»likes:
- Quiet
- Fresh Meat
- Wisdom
- The sound of wind
- The sound of rain
- Weather
»»dislikes:
- Loud
- Bright lights
- rowdy boys
- Young girls
- Innocence
- Stupidity
»»strengths:
- Fast (she's still built for speed though she can't run as long as she usually does)
- Sense of Smell (one of the last senses left to her, she relies on it heavily)
- Taste (keeps her from being poisoned from rotten meat)
- Stealth (she's not strong enough to defend herself anymore so she's learn to be very quiet in how she walks)
»»weaknesses:
- Her hearing (with only one ear, it's a little off)
- Her sight (the Web-eye slowly dims her vision)
- Bright lights (it agitates the web-eye)
- Heat (it makes her bones hurt)
»»secrets: Her past, her disfigurement. She doesn't tell anyone.
the history,
»»mother: Feather (
»»father: Caiun (
»»siblings: Immediate::
- Keegan (M;; Older;;
deceased) - Lachtna (M;; Younger;; living)
- Aeryn (F;; Older;; missing)
»»others:
Mates:
- Mict (
deceased) - Torro (
deceased) - Reilly (missing, thought
deceased)
Pups:
1st litter
[li]Cathan (M;; Adult;;
[/li][li]Laoise (F;; Pup;;
[/li][li]Isolde (F;; Adult;; living)
[li]Diarmaid (M;; Adult;; living)
[/li][li]Jarlach (M;; Pup;;
Torro::
1st litter
[/li][li]Caellach (M;; Adult;; living)
[/li][li]Keely (F;; Adult;; living)
[/li][li]Labhras (M;; Adult;;
[/li][li]Nuala (F;; Adult;; living)
Reilly::
1st litter
[/li][li]Isibeal (F;; Adult;; living)
[/li][li]Maire (F;; Adult;;
[li]Daly **(M;; Pup;;
[/li][li]Driscoll (M;; Pup;;
[/li][li]Lamont (M;; Adult;; living)
[/li][li]Nora (F;; Pup;;
[/li][/ul][/li][/ul]
[/size]
»»background:
Some would say Kinx loved too fiercely in her own way, others would say she didn't love enough, not nearly enough for the way the world ran. For sure how could such a thing pass that the wolf, the decrepit being that crept into your lands and stole your caches could have been powerful? Could have given birth to five litters, could have mated with three different males, and outlived every single one? The ignorant would cry tears for her, the skeptical would keep a wary distance, and who really knew which one was the wiser? Who knew if it was Fate's hand that was pushing this wolf to this land, to do only what she wills? Perhaps it didn't matter but still the story itself is lengthy, and perhaps to some it is uninteresting. But to her, to Kinx, the small Mexican Grey who knew the story by heart, could still remember the pain of walking that path and managing to live through it when all she wanted to do was die... well, it wasn't so boring to her. It was chaotic, it was frightening, it was infuriating. She loved, make no mistake, she loved with a burning heart that only youth could really bring, but lets take a few steps back. You must understand her, to know why she picked her path, why she tread the curving line of earth and let herself be pulled by Fate's wicked hand.
She was born.
To who? To Feather and Caiun. She was not the strongest, was not the most precious - nothing so special that preordained her greatness, but quite the opposite. In most cases she was forgotten. In most situations she had to fright to speak, to fight to eat, to fight to even breathe and sleep in the place of her choosing. How terrible you must be thinking that a mother and father could so disown a child? Shame on you for thinking such things. The children were adored but it was the way of the wolf to live as a family unit and in this, there was only the truth. The strongest survive and the weakest die. So she fought amongst her brothers and sisters, third child in a litter of four. Their names are unimportant. Like her father, like her mother, they were but a ghost of a memory that peppered her with kisses, with scars that would remain on her pelt when the play became too rough for her, when her bones could not hold her up and there was nothing but the painful knowledge that they could be dead, or they could be living. Most likely dead. She was third youngest, and she barely lived. They, poor dears were most likely dead. Scattered to the wind on their second year of life, their parents died in quick succession. Mother, poor Feather, loving mother, loving Alpha, taken by the water as they sought to cross the icy expanse of the frozen river. Father, Caiun, soon lost his life from sheer grief, his heart stuttering out one night and never starting again. The snows were deep that year.
Next Alpha, some Halo, threatened to kill them and their siblings, so the four left, running from the sharp knives of his fangs and scattered. Who knew which way the wind took them? Kinx, lonely, little Kinx, left alone in the winters, the deep snow drifts, the cold, the starvation -- until she crossed into a pack, a pack she did not know, could not find herself joining, so she lingered, beaten down, skittering out of the way though her jaws ached to slice their throats, to creep into their dens and piss on their cache. Ohhhh, the temptation! The feral, guttural temptation to do what she was forbidden to do. No matter how strong or how fast, she would never outrun a pack, and so she stayed, lingered for three seasons on the very edges of pack-life, wishing herself to be part of the pack while reviling their every glance in her direction. She ate on their forbearance, and hunted alone, in secret.
Until Mict. Large, lovely brute with chaotic black eyes -- though truly brown. Newly joining the pack, he quickly fought his way up into the pack, but his eyes were distant, his nose constantly moving toward the outsider, the lithe little creature that darted in with clever little twists of her muzzle, sneaking out meat when no one but he was truly looking. No one noticed her but he, for she had become a constant companion, a familiar hum of outside life they only the truly bored every gave notice to anymore. But Mict, with his dark eyes, his white fur -- there were marks of battles on his skin, marking him much older than she but it was not long before she was wound about his paw, her young heart fluttering, caged within her breast by sheer manifestation of her existence. It could not fly free or else it would have. When the mating season came, he followed her, and she, exhilarated, led; led as her father had once led, led as her mother had once done with a flick of her tail and tilt of her chin.
So they left, mated, and she, virile creature, gave birth to three pups, her first. Cathan, Laoise, Isolde, but poor Laoise didn't make it past pup-hood, stumbling out of the den when the two were hunting and taken by a mountain lion. His puppy-screams still haunt Kinx's ears from time to time, waking her up in the middle of the night, or when she dozed in the warmth of the sun and she would know horror and grief again, would know the pain of her first loss, her pup which she had loved more than life. She would have died of grief had the other two not needed her, if Mict had not roused her with his quiet, potent ways. Steady eyes, humble spirit. He was strong where she flighty, steady where she was chaotic and it balanced them out so that she crawled out of her hole of depression. The ranks of the newly made pack grew to admit Diarmaid and Jarlach -- poor Jarlach born stillborn.
Pack of five, strong though their numbers were low, they survived the winter to admit three more into the pack -- Torro, giant beast of a wolf, multi-hued like herself and submissive to known but herself, interested in none but herself, and two brothers, Sock and Lock, young, reckless and rowdy but they brought a measure of fun to the pack, often leading a game of tag or chase. When the Heat came to the females, was it any wonder that the brute with mischievous, tender eyes fought Mict for his right to breed her? Probably not, but there was not to be worry yet. No, not yet -- for though it was close and Mict suffered from the battle, he won, the other cast down again though less wounded. Torro waited, a mischievous tilt to his ears as Mict kept himself first and foremost. When tragedy hit, it was not in the form you'd think. Mict tripped over his limping foot during a hunt, trampled by a herd of elk.
Pure grief! She was taken by Torro then, hard, fierce and she knew no tenderness from the coupling, though he was wont to lick her face as her belly grew with pups. Caellach, Keely, Labhras, Nuala -- how fickle fate that would make her former pups die when conceived in love but healthy and perfect when conceived with hatred, with force! They lived, healthy, but Torro did not make it past the year. Perhaps karma did look out for her lucky charm, her little Kinx of the multi-colored fur and the sharp honey-brown eyes. Though Labhras did not make it past his second winter, the pack was eight strong, and Kinx, fighting back the tension that was rising from a one-leader hierarchy, fled during heat, driving off Sock and Lock whenever they sought to mate with her, or her children.
That was the year that Reilly entered into the mix. Six years to his four, it was a strange pairing for sure but he was swift on his feet and strong with it, pushing aside the twin brothers and forcing himself to be noticed. It was so strange to be so transfixed by this attention that was it any wonder that Kinx slowly fell in love again, that she took him as her mate when the world and the pack fidgeted and grew mutinous over the coupling. The brothers were used to going without, but the children, the pups, the yearling, the older ones did not like this meddling and it was with agony that Kinx watched Cathan, the last living pup of Mict battle for Alpha. He would discard her, she knew, as was right but it was painful to watch as Reilly ripped his throat out when he would not submit, when blood was spilled on innocent, virgin snow, their cries echoing up in grief and in triumph. They mated, gave birth to Maire and Isibeal, their second yielding four pups, but only of which Daly survived.
It was in Daly that Kinx found herself fixated, finding so much of Mict in his demeanor, his actions, the way he carried himself. So beautiful with his snow white fur, she coddled him as she shouldn't have. It was painful when her sons and daughters slowly dispersed t make their own path, most especially when a new female, Morningstar came within the pack for the mere purpose of finding a mate, and she did, have no fear. She found one in Daly and lured him away no matter that his mother's grief was awful to behold.
That was until the wench came back scant weeks later, terrified of the pack which followed them, which Daly had drawn off -- in fear, without thought she left the pack, left Reilly behind to chase after her youngest pup, her darling dearest to find that it was much too late and his body was in tatters, torn apart by ravaging wolves too angered by the trespass. 8 years strong now, it wasn't until the seventh year that the web-eye had begun to take hold of her eyes, a slow decay that would eventually destroy her sight. It was for this that she had lost her paw, her ear. She did not see them with the day so bright, her sight dimmed by the glare -- and they attacked her.
A pack of rogues, for no other would have thought to simply attack a grieving mother. Her ear was torn off early in the battle as she sought to run, to get away from the larger, battle hungry wolves but they would not let her go, and one found their jaws around her paw, fiercely tearing flesh from bone and bone from bone. The pain! They let her live thinking without her paw she would die, and she nearly did, but it was winter and the cold sealed the wound, let it heal where it had no right to heal and though starved and embittered she rose from her grave of snow and dried blood and relearned her body. She did not return to her pack, did not do anything but wander as the world turned and she turned with it. Nine years old, still able to breed but who would want to breed a disfigured sow such as herself? Tortured by the pain of her lost limb, by the hearing that was only half-accurate, by sight that saw dimly, and body that was tired from the long travail of her life, Kinx found herself looking for protection, a place where she would spend the last of her days. Perhaps she would breed if they would take her, but death was close to her, and had always been, so she has no doubt it is only fourth beginning of her life.
the player,
»»name: Alicia
»»age: 20
»»contact: pm system!
»»rp sample:
y'know my style
Password: accept
How did you find us?: proboard support ^_^