Post by faded on Jul 19, 2009 14:42:18 GMT -5
Name:
I’m known as Ayden. And for the record, nicknames do not amuse me.
~~~
Gender:
If my masculine physique doesn’t tell you my gender you must be blind.
~~~
Breed:
The blood running through my veins is pure Gray wolf.
~~~
Height:
I stand thirty four inches at my shoulder.
~~~
Age:
I’ve cursed this earth for four years, give or take a month.
~~~
Appearance:
Handsome devil aren’t I? Or so I’ve been told on numerous occasions. The thick coat of fur covering my muscular frame is most certainly one of my better features. The brown, silver and black by themselves are nothing out of the ordinary I suppose, but mix them together and you get a pattern that can conceal me in the shadows like nothing else. I view the world from a pair of pale amber eyes, but don’t think they will show you any of my thoughts. I keep them intense and focused, with no allowance of any emotion to be shown save for what I desire you to see. They say eyes are the windows to the soul. Well, mine have been shuttered for a long time.
~~~
Disposition:
Personality? Oh I have plenty of that. I’ve been called many things in my life, but the ones that seem to be repeated most often are, ‘mysterious’, ‘sarcastic’, ‘a charmer’, and oh, let’s not forget, ‘persistent’. You might say that last one is what ties everything else together, the driving force that brings out every other facet of my character. Are such words really a good judge of who I am? Perhaps, perhaps not. I’m certainly not the most unpleasant wolf you’ll ever come across, but then again, a pleasing façade is one of the oldest tricks in the book to hide what truly lies inside.
For instance, I truly hate socializing with others of my kind beyond those of my own pack, yet I am able to do so with apparent ease and enjoyment to those around me. A little discipline and self control can go a long way I’ve found, not only in matters of conversing, but when it comes to gaining what one desires. Though one would hardly guess from the easy going manner I present, there is nothing that can stop me once I set my mind to a task. If it takes, minutes, hours, days, months, or even years, I will do whatever I must to succeed and use whatever tactics are required. Decisions, once made, I rarely go back upon. Stir me to fight, I won’t back down. However, I’m not one to throw my brawn around without cause.
By now you’re probably thinking I have no redeemable qualities to my name, eh? Perhaps not, but there is one thing I possess that is consider by many to be a desirable trait indeed and that, my friend, is unshakable loyalty. Once I give it, you have it for a lifetime.
~~~
History:
The past. Everyone always wants to talk about that particular subject and though I’m not overly fond of discussing my life I suppose I can oblige you this once.
I was the second born out of a litter of four to the Alphas of the Riordan Pack. My two younger siblings lived for only a few days before succumbing to the harsh elements of the land we called our home. Set amid the barren peaks of the far northern mountains prey was scarce and weakness was not an option if you wanted to survive. Though I was by no means a small pup, my brother Zabor was clearly the larger of the two of us, taking after our father Decantir in both physical appearance and personality. I, on the other hand favored our mother, Nalinra, in both coloration and temperament, a fact that often sparked many an argument between us as we grew up. Zabor was loud, brash, impulsive and quick to throw around his weight to gain whatever it was he desired, a fact that caused those in our pack to both respect him out of fear.
My first year of life was spent mostly fighting Zabor for my fair share of well, everything. From our mother’s milk to the warmest spot in the den, to the pieces of bone leftover from a hunt we played with as toys. If it came down to a fight he most always won which forced me to develop other tactics in order to gain what it was I wanted. Already much quieter than he was, I soon learned the powerful tool of observation, learning how to read my brother and any other pack member from a simple look. Seeing how easily I could read most faces and body language made me much more aware of my own and I soon became well versed at the skill of keeping my features a blank canvas.
By the time we had reached two years of age our father had appointed Zabor as his Beta and I was Lead Hunter. Though hardly an easy life our pack was good sized and filled with wolves that had proved their ability to survive. I could almost look back upon that part of my life with a certain fondness had it not been for my brother’s increasingly growing desire for control. Decantir had already been past his prime when my brother and I were born and as the eve of our third year approached it was easy to see the longs seasons of hard living had taken its toll. That previous winter had been the worst in recent memory, leaving us with even less prey than normal. A third of the pack had perished, including our mother. By this point things were getting bad enough that my father had come to the decision that it was time to find new land for our pack to call home. This was met with mixed reactions from the rest of the pack, with some eager for the move while others balked at the idea of leaving the land that had been our ancestors’ home for scores of years.
I was in agreement with our father and thought it was best that we find new land. Zabor on the other hand was firmly against it. Half of the pack seemed to side with him while the other half with our father and I. Before long what had started as a simple argument grew into a bitter feud and then came the night I will never forget when all hell broke loose.
The attack came without warning, planned out by Zabor and those with him. Under the cover of darkness they were upon us before we had time to react, but once we did it was with a vengeance. One side never gained ground over the other and soon it was left between me and Zabor, the last two standing. I can never remember fighting so hard for my life as I did that night and for the first time I was the one who ended up on top. The metallic taste of his blood as it flowed across my tongue told me of my victory, but it hadn’t been without its costs. Zabor had left me a bloodied and broken mess, his claws and teeth doing their work well. A week passed before I was able to leave the site of the massacre but once I was able I left and never looked back. A year has passed since then and though the scars are mostly hidden beneath my coat the memory of that night will never fade from my mind.
~~~
Picture:
I’m known as Ayden. And for the record, nicknames do not amuse me.
~~~
Gender:
If my masculine physique doesn’t tell you my gender you must be blind.
~~~
Breed:
The blood running through my veins is pure Gray wolf.
~~~
Height:
I stand thirty four inches at my shoulder.
~~~
Age:
I’ve cursed this earth for four years, give or take a month.
~~~
Appearance:
Handsome devil aren’t I? Or so I’ve been told on numerous occasions. The thick coat of fur covering my muscular frame is most certainly one of my better features. The brown, silver and black by themselves are nothing out of the ordinary I suppose, but mix them together and you get a pattern that can conceal me in the shadows like nothing else. I view the world from a pair of pale amber eyes, but don’t think they will show you any of my thoughts. I keep them intense and focused, with no allowance of any emotion to be shown save for what I desire you to see. They say eyes are the windows to the soul. Well, mine have been shuttered for a long time.
~~~
Disposition:
Personality? Oh I have plenty of that. I’ve been called many things in my life, but the ones that seem to be repeated most often are, ‘mysterious’, ‘sarcastic’, ‘a charmer’, and oh, let’s not forget, ‘persistent’. You might say that last one is what ties everything else together, the driving force that brings out every other facet of my character. Are such words really a good judge of who I am? Perhaps, perhaps not. I’m certainly not the most unpleasant wolf you’ll ever come across, but then again, a pleasing façade is one of the oldest tricks in the book to hide what truly lies inside.
For instance, I truly hate socializing with others of my kind beyond those of my own pack, yet I am able to do so with apparent ease and enjoyment to those around me. A little discipline and self control can go a long way I’ve found, not only in matters of conversing, but when it comes to gaining what one desires. Though one would hardly guess from the easy going manner I present, there is nothing that can stop me once I set my mind to a task. If it takes, minutes, hours, days, months, or even years, I will do whatever I must to succeed and use whatever tactics are required. Decisions, once made, I rarely go back upon. Stir me to fight, I won’t back down. However, I’m not one to throw my brawn around without cause.
By now you’re probably thinking I have no redeemable qualities to my name, eh? Perhaps not, but there is one thing I possess that is consider by many to be a desirable trait indeed and that, my friend, is unshakable loyalty. Once I give it, you have it for a lifetime.
~~~
History:
The past. Everyone always wants to talk about that particular subject and though I’m not overly fond of discussing my life I suppose I can oblige you this once.
I was the second born out of a litter of four to the Alphas of the Riordan Pack. My two younger siblings lived for only a few days before succumbing to the harsh elements of the land we called our home. Set amid the barren peaks of the far northern mountains prey was scarce and weakness was not an option if you wanted to survive. Though I was by no means a small pup, my brother Zabor was clearly the larger of the two of us, taking after our father Decantir in both physical appearance and personality. I, on the other hand favored our mother, Nalinra, in both coloration and temperament, a fact that often sparked many an argument between us as we grew up. Zabor was loud, brash, impulsive and quick to throw around his weight to gain whatever it was he desired, a fact that caused those in our pack to both respect him out of fear.
My first year of life was spent mostly fighting Zabor for my fair share of well, everything. From our mother’s milk to the warmest spot in the den, to the pieces of bone leftover from a hunt we played with as toys. If it came down to a fight he most always won which forced me to develop other tactics in order to gain what it was I wanted. Already much quieter than he was, I soon learned the powerful tool of observation, learning how to read my brother and any other pack member from a simple look. Seeing how easily I could read most faces and body language made me much more aware of my own and I soon became well versed at the skill of keeping my features a blank canvas.
By the time we had reached two years of age our father had appointed Zabor as his Beta and I was Lead Hunter. Though hardly an easy life our pack was good sized and filled with wolves that had proved their ability to survive. I could almost look back upon that part of my life with a certain fondness had it not been for my brother’s increasingly growing desire for control. Decantir had already been past his prime when my brother and I were born and as the eve of our third year approached it was easy to see the longs seasons of hard living had taken its toll. That previous winter had been the worst in recent memory, leaving us with even less prey than normal. A third of the pack had perished, including our mother. By this point things were getting bad enough that my father had come to the decision that it was time to find new land for our pack to call home. This was met with mixed reactions from the rest of the pack, with some eager for the move while others balked at the idea of leaving the land that had been our ancestors’ home for scores of years.
I was in agreement with our father and thought it was best that we find new land. Zabor on the other hand was firmly against it. Half of the pack seemed to side with him while the other half with our father and I. Before long what had started as a simple argument grew into a bitter feud and then came the night I will never forget when all hell broke loose.
The attack came without warning, planned out by Zabor and those with him. Under the cover of darkness they were upon us before we had time to react, but once we did it was with a vengeance. One side never gained ground over the other and soon it was left between me and Zabor, the last two standing. I can never remember fighting so hard for my life as I did that night and for the first time I was the one who ended up on top. The metallic taste of his blood as it flowed across my tongue told me of my victory, but it hadn’t been without its costs. Zabor had left me a bloodied and broken mess, his claws and teeth doing their work well. A week passed before I was able to leave the site of the massacre but once I was able I left and never looked back. A year has passed since then and though the scars are mostly hidden beneath my coat the memory of that night will never fade from my mind.
~~~
Picture:
