06-26-2020, 01:54 PM
Discord Id - Nyghthawke#0804
Previous Characters - Kutara, Marja, Raewyn Darkclaw, Jhasato, Taelarys, etc. etc.
Character Name - Kutara
Character Race & Sub-Race - Muiri, I suppose? She's just a wolf.
Alternate Graphic Wolf (ID 225) Hue 2991
Character Description - The most obvious trait is that she is a wolf, her thick coat a deep slate with silver markings on her underside and legs. She is young, having only seen three seasons, but is large and healthy. Vivid, honey-coloured eyes watch the world with a sense of intelligence and curiosity.
A spirit of the wilds, Kutara is naturally wary around humans. However, she is also curious of the antics of Man, some might say unhealthily so. Her youth is most apparent when she thinks none are watching, as she is still susceptible to bouts of puppyish behavior.
Shard Plot Line (Strengths & Weaknesses)
Strengths Wolf
Weaknesses Wolf
Special Role-play Ability - Animal Instincts: by being more sensitive to smell and hearing, Kutara is able to pick up on unusual behaviors, such as deception (with OOC communication and approval)
Previous World - The small slips of forest left in Tevarine, where Man has yet to tread...for now.
Backstory
The large she-wolf's ears pricked forward, nose aquiver as she froze like living moonlight along the game trail. Despite the scarcity of food, her pack had been loathe to venture into the farmlands, but luck was on her side this day. A rabbit lay not five paces ahead, freshly killed but abandoned. Perhaps on a different day, she would have noticed the lingering scent of Man along the trail, but hunger urged her forward. As she lunged for the rabbit, she felt a sudden tightness around her neck as her legs slid from underneath her. She yelped in surprise more than pain, thrashing to free herself from the snare, but the cable only drew tighter around the thick ruff of fur on her neck. Her vision began to darken. She flopped onto her side, her lolling tongue coated with leaf litter from the forest floor. Somehow the tightness around her neck seemed lessened this way. She could just make out a form approaching her from up the trail; was it one of her pack? No...the creature coming for her came on two legs. She failed to muster even a growl as her vision darkened and she lost consciousness.
"Oi, Reinard! Take a look at this beauty!" the man approached the limp wolf, cutting the snare from her neck. "Think we could get a few coppers for her pelt?"
Another man, Reinard, apparently, shambled towards him, looking doubtful. "Aye, Ambrose, probably...s'nice and thick." Ambrose knelt and held her by the scruff of the neck, pulling his dagger from his belt. "But y'know...what about that daft wanker Lord Whitbury? Heard tell he's spending all his wealth making a menagerie." Reinard gestured at the wolf. "Might be worth more alive."
Ambrose squinted, considering when considering clearly did not come easily. He slid the dagger back into its sheath. "Yeh, alright."
----------------------
Kutara awoke in a dark, cramped space with wooden walls that stunk of old hay. Dust motes swirled in a shaft of daylight that streamed between a crack in the wood; she, and the box that contained her, were moving. She pressed her nose to the crack and sniffed frantically. The scent of the forest was fading, replaced by the stink of metal and leather and Man. Voices shouted at one another from all sides. She lurched to the side as the box lifted, swayed, and was set roughly on the ground. No, not ground...her ears flicked. More wood. She could smell the acrid pinch of tar pitch and salt, feel the gentle sway of the boat beneath her. With no other recourse, she curled into the tiniest heap of fur she could manage, ears pinned against her skull, and whined for her pack.
The swaying beneath her worsened by the day; sometimes it felt as though the entire crate would tumble end over end. Voices still shouted around her; Mans were certainly noisy creatures. She braced her feet against the bottom of the crate as it listed to the side, sliding against the moldy hay. The voices came more hurriedly, now. Her head jerked up, ears swiveling at the sound of stone tearing through timbers. The crate tilted, tumbled, came to a jarring rest against the railing. But her crate was not the only cargo; a heavy barrel smashed into her wooden prison. The wood splintered and tore apart; she yelped as the jagged edges clawed through skin, scrabbled for a foothold but tumbled into the icy foam of the sea.
A dark furry head popped to the surface. She snorted water, paddling away from the dangerously tilting ship. Screams of the crew rang in her ears. Salt stung the cuts along her legs and ribs, but stinging was good. Stinging meant she lived, yet. An explosion caused the waves to surge around her; the ship's powder stores made short work of what remained of the vessel, and her doomed crew. Above the spray of salt, above the choking black smoke that billowed over the waves, the wolf's nose quivered at a faint, familiar scent. The smell of trees, and earth. The smell of home, but different too. Twisting round, she paddled onward, her nose leading the way. Her strength lasted long enough to drag herself up a sandy shoal, and not an inch further.
Previous Characters - Kutara, Marja, Raewyn Darkclaw, Jhasato, Taelarys, etc. etc.
Character Name - Kutara
Character Race & Sub-Race - Muiri, I suppose? She's just a wolf.
Alternate Graphic Wolf (ID 225) Hue 2991
Character Description - The most obvious trait is that she is a wolf, her thick coat a deep slate with silver markings on her underside and legs. She is young, having only seen three seasons, but is large and healthy. Vivid, honey-coloured eyes watch the world with a sense of intelligence and curiosity.
A spirit of the wilds, Kutara is naturally wary around humans. However, she is also curious of the antics of Man, some might say unhealthily so. Her youth is most apparent when she thinks none are watching, as she is still susceptible to bouts of puppyish behavior.
Shard Plot Line (Strengths & Weaknesses)
Strengths Wolf
Weaknesses Wolf
Special Role-play Ability - Animal Instincts: by being more sensitive to smell and hearing, Kutara is able to pick up on unusual behaviors, such as deception (with OOC communication and approval)
Previous World - The small slips of forest left in Tevarine, where Man has yet to tread...for now.
Backstory
The large she-wolf's ears pricked forward, nose aquiver as she froze like living moonlight along the game trail. Despite the scarcity of food, her pack had been loathe to venture into the farmlands, but luck was on her side this day. A rabbit lay not five paces ahead, freshly killed but abandoned. Perhaps on a different day, she would have noticed the lingering scent of Man along the trail, but hunger urged her forward. As she lunged for the rabbit, she felt a sudden tightness around her neck as her legs slid from underneath her. She yelped in surprise more than pain, thrashing to free herself from the snare, but the cable only drew tighter around the thick ruff of fur on her neck. Her vision began to darken. She flopped onto her side, her lolling tongue coated with leaf litter from the forest floor. Somehow the tightness around her neck seemed lessened this way. She could just make out a form approaching her from up the trail; was it one of her pack? No...the creature coming for her came on two legs. She failed to muster even a growl as her vision darkened and she lost consciousness.
"Oi, Reinard! Take a look at this beauty!" the man approached the limp wolf, cutting the snare from her neck. "Think we could get a few coppers for her pelt?"
Another man, Reinard, apparently, shambled towards him, looking doubtful. "Aye, Ambrose, probably...s'nice and thick." Ambrose knelt and held her by the scruff of the neck, pulling his dagger from his belt. "But y'know...what about that daft wanker Lord Whitbury? Heard tell he's spending all his wealth making a menagerie." Reinard gestured at the wolf. "Might be worth more alive."
Ambrose squinted, considering when considering clearly did not come easily. He slid the dagger back into its sheath. "Yeh, alright."
----------------------
Kutara awoke in a dark, cramped space with wooden walls that stunk of old hay. Dust motes swirled in a shaft of daylight that streamed between a crack in the wood; she, and the box that contained her, were moving. She pressed her nose to the crack and sniffed frantically. The scent of the forest was fading, replaced by the stink of metal and leather and Man. Voices shouted at one another from all sides. She lurched to the side as the box lifted, swayed, and was set roughly on the ground. No, not ground...her ears flicked. More wood. She could smell the acrid pinch of tar pitch and salt, feel the gentle sway of the boat beneath her. With no other recourse, she curled into the tiniest heap of fur she could manage, ears pinned against her skull, and whined for her pack.
The swaying beneath her worsened by the day; sometimes it felt as though the entire crate would tumble end over end. Voices still shouted around her; Mans were certainly noisy creatures. She braced her feet against the bottom of the crate as it listed to the side, sliding against the moldy hay. The voices came more hurriedly, now. Her head jerked up, ears swiveling at the sound of stone tearing through timbers. The crate tilted, tumbled, came to a jarring rest against the railing. But her crate was not the only cargo; a heavy barrel smashed into her wooden prison. The wood splintered and tore apart; she yelped as the jagged edges clawed through skin, scrabbled for a foothold but tumbled into the icy foam of the sea.
A dark furry head popped to the surface. She snorted water, paddling away from the dangerously tilting ship. Screams of the crew rang in her ears. Salt stung the cuts along her legs and ribs, but stinging was good. Stinging meant she lived, yet. An explosion caused the waves to surge around her; the ship's powder stores made short work of what remained of the vessel, and her doomed crew. Above the spray of salt, above the choking black smoke that billowed over the waves, the wolf's nose quivered at a faint, familiar scent. The smell of trees, and earth. The smell of home, but different too. Twisting round, she paddled onward, her nose leading the way. Her strength lasted long enough to drag herself up a sandy shoal, and not an inch further.
![[Image: Raewyn-Signiture.jpg]](https://i.ibb.co/T1hxSd2/Raewyn-Signiture.jpg)
![[Image: Dali-Signature-3.jpg]](https://i.ibb.co/BsVPPHZ/Dali-Signature-3.jpg)