#794149656923
Belongs to Saberius's Former Pride

Skye

"Frostbitten NCL"

Lion Stats
Experience	0 / 100 (0%)
Level	1
Strength	24	Speed	35
Stamina	13	Smarts	13
Agility	35	Skill	23
Born With:	Unknown	Total Stats:	143

Lion Currents
Age	15 years, 4 months old
Hunger	0%
Mood	100%
Sex	Female
Pose	Good
Personality	Unreliable (Snarky)

Elder Stage

Breeding Info
Father	Unknown	Mother	Unknown	View Full Heritage
Last Bred	More than 20 days ago	Fertility	Very Low (21%)	View All Cubs Bred (1)

Appearance		Markings
Base	Frostbitten (Marbled Skin)	Slot 5: Blue Ridge (100%) Tier 3
Genetics	Black Medium Solid Special
Eyes	Dioptase
Mane Type	Scarce
Mane Color	Fawn
Mutation	None
Marking Slots	10

Equipped Decorations Hide/Show
None!

Lifetime Hunting Results
Total Hunts	0	Successful Hunts	0	Success Rate	0%

Biography
"I have better things to do," you hear, carried on the wind. You perk up your ears, swivelling to look at a lioness a dozen or so feet away. Her tail is lashing indignantly as she glares up at her very chagrined king. He is leaning in, talking quietly as to not draw attention to the altercation. "C'mon, Skye. You had one job. We put you on the hunting party because you said you could handle this - you can't just slack off. It ain't fair on the others, you get me?" Skye just growls, her hackles raised. You snort. For a Smilus, Sab is too soft-spoken. You stride over to sort the issue out yourself, chest puffed out; leaving the king looking miffed, to say the least. The lionesses rumble with impressed mirth.

Biography

"I have better things to do," you hear, carried on the wind. You perk up your ears, swivelling to look at a lioness a dozen or so feet away. Her tail is lashing indignantly as she glares up at her very chagrined king. He is leaning in, talking quietly as to not draw attention to the altercation.

"C'mon, Skye. You had one job. We put you on the hunting party because you said you could handle this - you can't just slack off. It ain't fair on the others, you get me?"

Skye just growls, her hackles raised. You snort. For a Smilus, Sab is too soft-spoken. You stride over to sort the issue out yourself, chest puffed out; leaving the king looking miffed, to say the least. The lionesses rumble with impressed mirth.

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