Post by Noapte Cavael on Feb 28, 2006 21:31:58 GMT -5
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Tombe
Siblings:
Retta; Hwyn; Myrrh
Likes:
The Past; Legends; The thrill of Exploration
Dislikes:
Memories; Peace; Other Varg
Personality:
Not one to show emotion, Cavael's blank stare seems to describe everything about him. Often, he will not speack, even when spoken to. He trads in a straight line, making sharp turns and never straying off a path that seems set before him. He's intellegent by far, though to gain his genius, he payed the price of strength. However his sacrafice was never in vain, for his quick thinking ceased many of his battles before they even began...
Past:
As far as Cavael is concerned, he knows naught of his past. Yes, as long as this intellegent Don Juan of a wolf has wondered the Carpathians, his mind had been able to live only in the future and present, remembering no past, save for a hndful (er..pawful) of memories that awoke wihin his mind...
Noapte Cavael begun life like most do-- being born into a den, cold wet and confused. He lived the average life of many in a pack, with siblings, and adoring parents. Everything was seemingly perfect.
That is, until, he began to wander.
Further and further from his den, he strayed. Alone, day and night. He taught himself how to live, and to hunt, and the knoledge aided him well. He heard tales from traveling kerls, and wolves of all sorts. Tales of a past; of myths; of history. These things fascinated him, and he devoted his time to searching the Carpathians for more legends. He became a holding tank of them, and could recite them from memory. Cavael had discovered his purpose-- to tell, and be told memories. So he traveled, welcomed everywhere he went.
Then, he returned home.
And he knew no more...
Now, Noapte Cavael is a mere shadow of his former existence. He fears his memories; fears the past. Now, all he does is travel constantly, wherever the wind may guide him...
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Dubbance
Noapte Cavael
Age:
One winter and eleven moons
Gender:
Dragga (Male; brute; brujo)
Description:
Cavael is somewhat spindly, though not muscular. His face is trapped in a constant state of blankness, and often, he does not stare at those to whom he speacks, giving the appearance of blindness. His pelt is a brindle color, and his eyes, yellow. Larger than other wolves, his paws seem too big for the rest of him. He bears few scars, with one across his muzzle, and another sickle-shaped scar upon his back left leg.
Sire:
Lesang
Dam:
[/b]Noapte Cavael
Age:
One winter and eleven moons
Gender:
Dragga (Male; brute; brujo)
Description:
Cavael is somewhat spindly, though not muscular. His face is trapped in a constant state of blankness, and often, he does not stare at those to whom he speacks, giving the appearance of blindness. His pelt is a brindle color, and his eyes, yellow. Larger than other wolves, his paws seem too big for the rest of him. He bears few scars, with one across his muzzle, and another sickle-shaped scar upon his back left leg.
Sire:
Lesang
Dam:
Tombe
Siblings:
Retta; Hwyn; Myrrh
Likes:
The Past; Legends; The thrill of Exploration
Dislikes:
Memories; Peace; Other Varg
Personality:
Not one to show emotion, Cavael's blank stare seems to describe everything about him. Often, he will not speack, even when spoken to. He trads in a straight line, making sharp turns and never straying off a path that seems set before him. He's intellegent by far, though to gain his genius, he payed the price of strength. However his sacrafice was never in vain, for his quick thinking ceased many of his battles before they even began...
Past:
As far as Cavael is concerned, he knows naught of his past. Yes, as long as this intellegent Don Juan of a wolf has wondered the Carpathians, his mind had been able to live only in the future and present, remembering no past, save for a hndful (er..pawful) of memories that awoke wihin his mind...
Noapte Cavael begun life like most do-- being born into a den, cold wet and confused. He lived the average life of many in a pack, with siblings, and adoring parents. Everything was seemingly perfect.
That is, until, he began to wander.
Further and further from his den, he strayed. Alone, day and night. He taught himself how to live, and to hunt, and the knoledge aided him well. He heard tales from traveling kerls, and wolves of all sorts. Tales of a past; of myths; of history. These things fascinated him, and he devoted his time to searching the Carpathians for more legends. He became a holding tank of them, and could recite them from memory. Cavael had discovered his purpose-- to tell, and be told memories. So he traveled, welcomed everywhere he went.
Then, he returned home.
And he knew no more...
Now, Noapte Cavael is a mere shadow of his former existence. He fears his memories; fears the past. Now, all he does is travel constantly, wherever the wind may guide him...
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