#540431413102
Belongs to 's Pride
(View Former Prides)

Ophelia

fluffy // s7 cl"

This lioness gave birth in the past two years. She is on a breeding cool down and will be breedable again in 4 real life days.

Lion Stats
Experience	4767 / 5390 (88%)
Level	8
Strength	353	Speed	294
Stamina	398	Smarts	379
Agility	364	Skill	6
Born With:	Unknown	Total Stats:	1794

Lion Currents
Age	4 years, 3 months old
Hunger	20%
Mood	90%
Sex	Female
Pose	Default
Personality	Prudent (Good)

Adult Stage

Breeding Info
Father	Boombah (Deceased)	Mother	*jayla	View Full Heritage
Last Bred	19 days ago	Fertility	Good	View All Cubs Bred (0)

Appearance		Markings
Base	Black (Black Skin)	Slot 3: Onyx Brindle (82%) Tier 1 Slot 4: Onyx Back (85%) Tier 1 Slot 7: Cream Lace (65%) Tier 2 Slot 8: Under White 4 (83%) Tier 0 Slot 9: Leg Banding Onyx (80%) Tier 1
Genetics	Black Dark Countershaded Common
Eyes	Green
Mane Type	Razor
Mane Color	Hallowed
Mutation	Mane Fluffy
Marking Slots	10

Equipped Decorations Hide/Show
Niger River Above African Pink Violet Violet Garland Rising Water

Lifetime Hunting Results
Total Hunts	34	Successful Hunts	34	Success Rate	100%

Biography
There’s a willow that leans over the brook, dangling its white leaves over the glassy water. Ophelia made wild wreaths out of those leaves, braiding in crowflowers, thistles, daisies, and the orchises that vulgar shepherds have an obscene name for, but which pure-minded girls call “dead men’s fingers.” Climbing into the tree to hang the wreath of weeds on the hanging branches, she and her flowers fell into the gurgling brook. Her clothes spread out wide in the water, and buoyed her up for a while as she sang bits of old hymns, acting like someone who doesn’t realize the danger she’s in, or like someone completely accustomed to danger. But it was only a matter of time before her clothes, heavy with the water they absorbed, pulled the poor thing out of her song, down into the mud at the bottom of the brook. ultimate decor plans Birthstats: 1750 +1 skill

Biography

There’s a willow that leans over the brook, dangling its white leaves over the glassy water.
Ophelia made wild wreaths out of those leaves, braiding in crowflowers, thistles, daisies, and the orchises that vulgar shepherds have an obscene name for, but which pure-minded girls call “dead men’s fingers.”
Climbing into the tree to hang the wreath of weeds on the hanging branches, she and her flowers fell into the gurgling brook.
Her clothes spread out wide in the water, and buoyed her up for a while as she sang bits of old hymns, acting like someone who doesn’t realize the danger she’s in, or like someone completely accustomed to danger.
But it was only a matter of time before her clothes, heavy with the water they absorbed, pulled the poor thing out of her song, down into the mud at the bottom of the brook.

ultimate decor plans

Birthstats: 1750 +1 skill

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