Post by moonfox210 on Aug 21, 2006 2:03:31 GMT -5
[x]Name: Dagstae
[x]Gender: Male
[x]Age: 9
[x]Breed: 2/3 Gray Wolf, 1/3 Dire Wolf (hybrid)
[x]Alignment: Virtue
[x]Virtue: Fortitude
[x]Rank: None
[x]Appearance: Heavier build than most wolves, due to his Dire heritage, but still not much larger as far as length and height is concerned. He could still be considered a large male, but not fantastically so. He has a muted golden pelt, with paler underbelly and maw. Like his brother, he sports marbled black markings over his sides, neck, and tail, similar in pattern to that of a mackeral tabby. He sports dark, golden-brown socks on all feet. Has bethlahem blue eyes.
[x]Personality: Loyal - Honest - Hardworking - Aggressive - Attentive - Wary - Patient - Chivalrous - Masculine - Fond of his brother
[x]History: Dagstae grew up in a very warrior-oriented pack, much resembling the human's crusaders. His alpha, a mighy male wolf and a formidable fighter, led the pack on countless journeys to distant countries in attempt to rid the world of all evil creatures (whom he considered to be anything other than the common wolf). Dagstae and his brother Tor lived many long years fighting this wars, and have seen all of Europe and parts of Africa. Eventually, the two were killed during one such battle, dying side by side in glory.
[x]Lineage: Dagon (father) and Braya (mother), both deceased before the opening of Venial
[x]Mate: None
[x]Pack: None
[x]Siblings: Tor
[x]Offspring: None
[x]Other Relations: None
[x]Abilities/Powers:
Resistance
RP Sample:
Dagstae awoke, feeling a numbing pain in the muscles on his side. Gritting his teeth, he climbed a little shakily to his paws and glanced around. The pain... hardly pain really, more like aching numbness. He tilted his head to the side to sniff at his bruises. The wounds he received covered his body, but already and blood had coagulated and scabbed over. He knew that. This pain would be temporary. It would not deter him from his path.
Wait... where was his brother? Where were the others. Instead of the bloody war-torn battlefields he had expected to find, he was alone in the plains. A calm cooling breeze rippled over the grassy lands, but his heart was all but calm. Tor... where was Tor?!
"Tor?!"
He called out, his voice harsh and loud with a slight streak of panic in his deep reverberating tone. He limped forward before pausing to test his paws again. Still a dumb numbing ache... but he was battle-seasoned enough to know it was nothing major. He started forward, ignoring the strain he felt in his muscles and chest.
Only temporary Dag, the pain wil make you stronger...
His father's words came back to him. If anyone had hurt his brother... His anger fueled him forward in an almost-normal run as he kept calling out Tor's name.
[x]Gender: Male
[x]Age: 9
[x]Breed: 2/3 Gray Wolf, 1/3 Dire Wolf (hybrid)
[x]Alignment: Virtue
[x]Virtue: Fortitude
[x]Rank: None
[x]Appearance: Heavier build than most wolves, due to his Dire heritage, but still not much larger as far as length and height is concerned. He could still be considered a large male, but not fantastically so. He has a muted golden pelt, with paler underbelly and maw. Like his brother, he sports marbled black markings over his sides, neck, and tail, similar in pattern to that of a mackeral tabby. He sports dark, golden-brown socks on all feet. Has bethlahem blue eyes.
[x]Personality: Loyal - Honest - Hardworking - Aggressive - Attentive - Wary - Patient - Chivalrous - Masculine - Fond of his brother
[x]History: Dagstae grew up in a very warrior-oriented pack, much resembling the human's crusaders. His alpha, a mighy male wolf and a formidable fighter, led the pack on countless journeys to distant countries in attempt to rid the world of all evil creatures (whom he considered to be anything other than the common wolf). Dagstae and his brother Tor lived many long years fighting this wars, and have seen all of Europe and parts of Africa. Eventually, the two were killed during one such battle, dying side by side in glory.
[x]Lineage: Dagon (father) and Braya (mother), both deceased before the opening of Venial
[x]Mate: None
[x]Pack: None
[x]Siblings: Tor
[x]Offspring: None
[x]Other Relations: None
[x]Abilities/Powers:
Resistance
RP Sample:
Dagstae awoke, feeling a numbing pain in the muscles on his side. Gritting his teeth, he climbed a little shakily to his paws and glanced around. The pain... hardly pain really, more like aching numbness. He tilted his head to the side to sniff at his bruises. The wounds he received covered his body, but already and blood had coagulated and scabbed over. He knew that. This pain would be temporary. It would not deter him from his path.
Wait... where was his brother? Where were the others. Instead of the bloody war-torn battlefields he had expected to find, he was alone in the plains. A calm cooling breeze rippled over the grassy lands, but his heart was all but calm. Tor... where was Tor?!
"Tor?!"
He called out, his voice harsh and loud with a slight streak of panic in his deep reverberating tone. He limped forward before pausing to test his paws again. Still a dumb numbing ache... but he was battle-seasoned enough to know it was nothing major. He started forward, ignoring the strain he felt in his muscles and chest.
Only temporary Dag, the pain wil make you stronger...
His father's words came back to him. If anyone had hurt his brother... His anger fueled him forward in an almost-normal run as he kept calling out Tor's name.
