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Art by #50745
Art thread




Source

❝Sometimes, the truth hurts more than lies.❞

Yifan

Gender Identification:
Male

Sexuality:
Demisexual

Romantic Orientation: Panromantic

Age [Human years]:
25 years

Physique [Appearance]:
Yifan had the looks of a king.
Standing at the height of 5"11, the fairly young sovereign has a tall, lean build, with lightly defined muscles beneath his dark fur. With a gait entirely made of the power he held, Yifan's youthful, sharply proportioned face remains a stoic neutral expression, sometimes curled into a focused scowl as he thought deeply about something. His head is almost always raised, a noble aura wafting around him and wherever he went, aided by the graceful length of his silk pelt, more distiguishable on his chest where the fur was significantly thicker. The colors that were bestowed to Yifan seemed to have fallen from the night sky itself- His bodice is covered by masses and masses of jet black hairs, occasionally flecked by the faintest trace of hidden white stripes.
Silvery tones of ashen gray place themselves right below his chest area, his muzzle and even his abdomen, barely visibly ending near his hind areas. Yifan's eyes are a striking shade of rich gold, although it leans more to a darker, coffeebean hue.

Disposition [Personality]:
Yifan is as cold as the harshest of winters. He prefers to be alone rather than socializing with other wolves. One of the major reasons for this is his intimidating stare, which often provokes fear or misunderstanding despite his composure. Another reason is his fear. Yifan seems strong, and he truly is, just not strong enough to conquer his fear of losing loved ones. The ones who managed to break though his grumpy, unaffectionate facade he treasures much, and as a result he is too possesive and overprotective of them, although he likes to say otherwise. Yifan likes to be in control, needs to be. Despite his sensible mind and strong sense of right and wrong, he will go through drastic measures in order to keep control of his pack, since he was taught from a pup that everything he said or did was the best decision. Even though he has far too many flaws to count, Yifan has neverending patience and often has great control over his desires and his temper. He is also rather selfless. Even if he may seem unreasonable or a terrible leader, it is his way of trying to keep order within the hierarchy in line, or to protect the home he was born in.

Ranking:
Sovereign

Mate:
None.

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name

luciel

age [in human years]

luciel is twenty six (26) in human years.

gender identification

luciel is born female and identifies as one.

sexual and romantic orientation

she is bisexual and panromatic.

physique

luciel is a tall and slender female with thick ginger fur on her belly and ears. she bares a long muzzle and a similar look to a fox with a few black sploches on her tail and side. she holds a pair of tow colored eyes with her jaws and underbelly as a sandy white color while she holds no visible scars besides nicked ears.

disposition

at first, luciel is a bit shocking in bold and unique personality. she is one of the most upbeat wolves out of the pack. she is very energetic and loves to talk, though she almost always ends up going off on bizarre, unrelated tangents. she forgets things quite quickly, so she tries to write in the dirt to help her remember. when she gets upset or nervous, luciel seems to have a bit of a verbal tic: saying things twice. despite her general quirks, luciel can be a startlingly wise and contemplative person. she holds a strong respect for individuality, and encourages others to be themselves.

rank

I'd like to apply for shaman, but okami can be a combatant if you want her to be.

relationships/mate

she's close friends with arthur, and often tries to make him smile when she comes across him, but bares no romantic feelings for him.

Source: Ria P. on DawnThieves

❝ Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. ❞

: Name :
Fell

: Gender :
Male
[He/Him Pronouns]

: Sexuality :
Heterosexual & Heteroromantic

: Age :
20 Years
[Human Year Equivalent]

: Physique :
A beast of a wolf, Fell is a tall, sturdy male. He walks with a long, confident gait, his ears usually pricked forward and his head slightly lowered - as if he's constantly tracking something. A snow-hued pelt covers his muscular frame, the fur around his neck so thick that it almost gives the appearance of a mane. While the left side of his face is untouched, the right side is badly disfigured. His right ear is torn at the tip, and a nasty scar from a bite runs all the way over his eye and down to his muzzle, so that part of the right side of his muzzle is constantly pulled back as if in a snarl. Because the left side of his face is unscarred, it provides a shocking contrast and an eerie glimpse of what he might have looked like had he not lived such a violent life.

: Disposition :
Perhaps because of his rather jarring appearance, others are often shocked to find that Fell is not an outwardly violent wolf. On the contrary, he often comes across as a calm, eloquent wolf when you first meet him; presenting himself as courteous to both enemies and allies alike. He's a naturally charismatic leader, but isn't afraid to be harsh with others if he feels they need to be put in their place. He's a confident, strategic wolf who doesn't crack easily under pressure. He's adept at formulating plans, as well as being able to make amendments to them quickly when things go wrong - both skills which have aided him tremendously in battle.

While his composed demeanour hides his true thoughts well, just like any other wolf, Fell has his pressure points, and when they are touched upon you may start to see the cracks in his calm facade. He has a strong sense of pride, and won't stand for disrespect. This can be his downfall, as he dislikes taking orders from others because of it, and can be stubborn in certain situations. He's also extremely protective of his sister, as his only surviving family member, and an threat to her wellbeing will quickly make him snap. Furthermore, his blindness in his right eye is still a sensitive subject, as he doesn't want others to see his blind spot as a hindrance to his fighting abilities.

: Bio :
Born in a rowdy litter of four males and one female, Fell and his siblings had a tough upbringing. Their mother, Alva, was a lone female, kicked out of her previous pack for having romantic relations with a lone male. Fell is the spitting image of his mother, a sturdily built white-pelted wolf who even had a similar scar to Fell's - in her case on her left eye. Many wolves would have crumbled under the pressure of raising such a large litter all on their own, but Alva rose to the challenge with fierce determination. She herself would often go hungry to allow all of the pups to eat, and she taught all of them to be fierce, and to go to any means to get what they needed to survive. She commanded such respect from her family that, to this day, Fell still looks up to her image as the wolf he aspires to become.

As Fell and his siblings grew into mature wolves, the six of them altogether became their own small pack, thriving together with Alva as their leader. One fateful evening, however, Alva sustained a harsh kick to the head from a doe they were attempting to hunt, and, despite the frantic efforts of her children to keep her alive, she succumbed to her injuries only minutes after. Now without their mother figure, the small family pack fell into turmoil, all of them grieving and each of the brothers feeling that they had the right to become Leader. For Moons vicious fights erupted amongst them, giving many of them brutal scars. Only Runa, heartbroken that they had turned to violence after the death of their mother, didn't try to compete for dominance, instead becoming distant and spending much of her time wandering on her own. Eventually, Fell, the first-born and the largest of the litter, came out as the Leader, but the ordeal had left him blind in his right eye.

With an established leader again, there was relative peace for a few Moons. Just as it looked as if the family was about to get back on their feet, however, the Disease broke out, claiming three of the five siblings. Fell immediately suggested putting them out of their misery, but Runa, convinced they could be healed, tried her hardest to help them. Only when the Disease had poisoned their mind so severely that they began to lash out at Fell and Runa did she finally agree that there was no way to save them. Ultimately, it was Fell who had to put his brothers down himself.

Not wanting to infect himself, he led them to a fast-flowing stream, where he and Runa crossed over a fallen tree. When their brothers tried to follow them Fell destabilised the make-shift bridge, resulting in all three of them falling into the water and being swept away by the currents. Runa and Fell didn't have to travel on their own for long before they found their new pack, but having to kill all but one of his siblings himself has left Fell with a warped, detached view on death, making him a fearsome fighter.

: Ranking :
Combatant
[Aspiring Mercenary/Proxy]

: Family :
Alva - Mother - Deceased [Head Injuries]
Hall, Kare & Loki - Brothers - Deceased [Taken by the Disease]
Runa - Sister - Alive [RP'ed by me]

: Mate :
None

“Silence is only frightening to people who are compulsively verbalizing.”
-William S. Burroughs

Source: Elli S. on DawnThieves

❝ Though lovers be lost, love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion. ❞

: Name :
Runa
Meaning: Secret love

: Gender :
Female
[She/Her Pronouns]

: Sexuality :
Pansexual & Panromantic

: Age :
20 Years
[Human Year Equivalent]

: Physique :
Though nowhere near as large as her brother, Runa is still average in size and she has the same thick pelt that Fell does, aiding her in making her appear slightly larger than she really is. She's built more for speed, and she moves in swift, elegant strides. Her pelt is mostly white in colour, but she has pale brown colouration on her sides and hindquarters, giving the fur in those areas a honey-like hue. She has large, amber-brown eyes and a slender snout which gives her a focused expression. She's been lucky enough to avoid the brunt of the conflict in her family, and there are no visible scars on her pelt.

: Disposition :
Runa is generally seen by the rest of the pack as a friendly, helpful she-wolf. She's warm and accepting towards newcomers, and for this reason is able to make friends easily. This, however, doesn't mean she's a pushover, and any wolf to think that they can take advantage of her kindness would find themselves gravely mistaken. She's carried the lessons from her mother that she needs to be cautious in order to survive, and, because of this, while she'll make friendly conversation with anyone, it takes her a long time to put genuine trust in someone. In fact, she's found herself much more hesitant to become attached to others since the death of her brothers, and she treats those close to her with more appreciation.

Nevertheless, she loves helping others out, and if she has nothing to do she'll often be found speaking to the Shamans or helping them with small errands. She does have some knowledge of herbs and how to use them, but dislikes having to deal with injuries and death, and therefore refuses to accept a position as a Shaman full-time. She has a very strong moral compass, and if she feels someone's doing the wrong thing she won't hesitate to tell them; a trait which often gets her in trouble, as she's been known to question authority figures. She can also be extremely blunt at times, and doesn't tend to sugar-coat situations. Some admire her honesty, but other times her bluntness is simply perceived as rudeness.

: Bio :
See Fell's backstory ^^^

: Ranking :
Combatant

: Family :
Alva - Mother - Deceased [Head Injuries]
Hall, Kare & Loki - Brothers - Deceased [Taken by the Disease]
Fell - Brother - Alive [RP'ed by me]

: Mate :
None

"If you stand behind me: I will protect you. If you stand beside me: I will respect you. If you stand against me: I will not show kindness."

Name
Magnus

Gender Identification
Male

Sexuality
Heterosexual

Age
22

Physique
Composed almost entirely of deep, earthen hues, Magnus appears to have been formed from the soil of the earth. His eyes are intense and unwavering, with a hint of kind curiosity, and comically round. His angled ears are always pressed forward, both as a display of his dominance, and his constant pondering. His face is surrounded almost completely by thick hair, and there is little distinction between his skull and neck. Magnus' coat protects him not only from the cold, but from the jaws of his enemies. His legs are thin and slender, though not overly long, and end in massive paws. These paws are black on top, but fade to brown on the toes. His toenails are an ebony hue, contrasting sharply against his cream colored feet. He is drastically toed out, standing with his heels nearly facing each other. This does little to hinder his gait, but it does give him a comical, easily recognized stance. His back is peppered with long black guard hairs, emerging from a complicated pattern of several shades of brown, cream, and grey. His coat fades to a soft golden hue as it melts down his sides, and his underbelly hides several small white markings.

His tail is typically held slightly aloft, and he is an imposing presence. He is full bodied, well muscled, and compact, which pushes him back a bit on the speed spectrum. But his strength is certainly present, and his endurance is nothing to laugh at. Should one be unfortunate enough to end up on the receiving end of his gaping jaws, one might notice only half a canine on his upper jaw, on the left side. This was from a run in with a rock at an early age. Needless to say, the rock won, and he's still a tad bitter about this. In addition to the chipped canine, his jaw pops every time he opens it past a certain increment, and this frustrates him greatly. But there's little he can do about it, and he grudgingly accepts it. Because of this, when the wolf speaks or eats with a little too much gusto, it's sure to be accompanied by a grotesque snapping sound. When the weather grows especially cold, his jaw often aches.

Disposition
Magnus is a courageous wolf, with too much bravado and a strong sense of showmanship. He thrives under attention, and often acts recklessly to earn it, masking his need for acceptance under a daredevil attitude. When faced with a situation that calls for action, Magnus is heavily inclined to act, and think upon his feet. He's a highly motivated wolf, with a strong prey drive, and sitting still does not bode well with him. Magnus is a silent mover, despite those overly large paws, and should he decide to shut his mouth, he's quite the difficult wolf to hear. He's an eloquent creature, with an eye for flair, and an optimistic outlook on life. He's fiercely devoted to his pack, maybe to a fault, and he would die for them without a second thought. He has no doubt they would do the same. Though he has a difficult time forming lasting bonds, due to his tendency to fling himself into danger, those he does manage to forge are forever.

Another piece of his multi faceted personality is his charm. He's a charismatic bastard, with a chipped tooth grin and cocky, devil- may- care demeanor. To those who don't quite know him, he's a bit full of himself. To those that do- he's a bit full of himself. What can he say? He's gorgeous, and he knows it. He loves to talk, and loves the sound of his own voice, though he also loves the ideas of others. He finds himself captivated by other wolves- the way they walk, the way they talk, anything is fascinating to him. He once watched a bug simply go about its day for several hours. Magnus occasionally has episodes of intense focus, where everything he sets his mind to gets done. The rest of his time is split into two categories: to finish later, and to finish after this.

One of his greatest fears, right alongside losing his honor, is water. Magnus is irrationally afraid of it, going out of his way to avoid it. Even drinking from a stream unsettles him, and should he have to cross one, he can only squeeze his eyes shut, pray, and hurl himself over. He's never lost anyone to water- making his fear even stranger. Perhaps it's because he knows he won't float. He's never tried it. Or maybe he has, and is simply too afraid to say. No one truly knows.

He's a cunning creature, should he decide to stop moving and think, which is rare. His wit is as sharp as his teeth, and he never hesitates to let a quip dance from his tongue. The reactions are varied, but typically range from annoyed grunts, to polite, but fake, chuckles, and a full fledged belly laugh. He jokes regardless. Magnus' secret talent is making jokes about the worst things at the worst times. He once made a stab at bringing light to the loss of one of his beloved elders, mentioning how she must hate being dead or something along those lines, only to find most of the pack still hadn't quite recovered from the loss. He accepted that defeat: a rare occurrence. Once you have crossed him, he will never forget. He's one to hold a grudge for a very long time, and he's never one to let things slip his mind. Despite this, he's a brave, showy wolf, with a fierce loyalty towards his pack and a fascination with all things that might catch his eye. A powerful ally, and a dangerous enemy.

Ranking
Infiltrator

Mate
Open!

Source
..............................................................................................................................................................

"He who dares not grasp the thorn should never long for the rose."
Name
Maculoses {Mac}

Gender
Female

Sexuality
Bisexual

Age
24 years

Physique
Mac is of a slender build, though her ivory fur hides that well. Her muscles are lithe and thin, similar to her legs. The tuck of her waist suggests some sort tainted lineage, far, far back. Her coat is long and wiry, run through with streaks of a smoggy grey. Her color is akin to the tusks of an elephant, a creature she has never, and will never, see. Her ears are more pointed than round, and her muzzle is sharp. The narrow nose is topped with a sandy brown color, like the thin female had stuffed her nose underground, and the dirt never washed out.

A white cape spills down her back, threading through the stark grey hairs with bold contrast. Her nose, lips, and paw pads are all a deep, ebony black. Her eyes are a stunning grey color. Despite their cold hue, they are soft and kind. A mother's eyes. Her tail is comically short, and the same color of her pelt, albeit darker. Her chest bears a small smudge where no grey hairs stand out against the white. It is the shape of a paint smear, as if someone drew upon her chest with a thumb. She likes to think it's because she was given an extra large heart; all the more to love you with.

Demeanor
Mac is quite the embodiment of an overrun mother, still very much in love with her many children, but tired of their mischief. She's firm and stubborn, adhering to her decisions like glue. The more one tries to push her towards a different idea, the harder she fights. Her heart abounds with love for all, though, and she never hesitates to show it. She acts as somewhat of a makeshift mother, often smoothing ruffled fur or working through problems with many in her pack. She's overall very kind, but push enough of her buttons, and she won't hesitate to aim a furious nip at an unfortunate shoulder. Thankfully, her buttons are rather hard to find, and a bit more difficult to push.

With her rather gory medical history, Mac isn't one to sugarcoat. If a dog is expected to die, she will tell them so they might make peace with the world. If one might sustain life altering injures, she'll let them know so they can begin to adapt. If they can't handle it? Well, then too bad. Despite the bluntness, Mac is rarely ever sarcastic, or humerus at all. She's quite the serious dog. Seemingly fearless in the face of battle, or covered in other's blood while desperately trying to save them, Mac still suffers from extreme separation anxiety. Being alone doesn't bode well with her, but she manages to hide it well. If one of her close friends is heading out and Mac feels that familiar sensation of a pounding heart and cotton mouth, she'll make an excuse that her herb supply is running a bit low and she needs to restock. She's a clever creature, indeed.

Mac suffers from epilepsy. She only has small seizures, petit mal, in which she loses her abilities of speech, sight, and hearing, but she only sits, rigidly still. It's during these that she is given prophecies from the future. They are encoded, however, and often difficult to decipher. Whoever sends them must have a twisted sense of humor. But Mac loves her job, and she wouldn't give it up for the world.

Rank
Shaman

Mate
Open

Source

”If I wanted to destroy you, I would. But I’m a good girl.”

Name
Kismet

Age
20 Years
[Human Equivalent]

Gender
Female

Orientation
Biromantic & Bisexual

Rank
Combatant

Mate
Unmated

Physical Description
Kismet is not intimidating in size, being the average height for her age and gender. She doesn’t dip below the height of many, and can hold their eyes without having to lift or lower her head. (Though she rarely lowers it anyway.) Her fur is gathered in various lengths along her supple, yet well-built bodice. It’s a soft white, not stark and blinding, but a calming, distant snow. There are points along her body that a creamy color becomes apparent, as if touched by light brown sugar. These spots exist upon the bridge of her delicate muzzle, cheeks, ears (that are backed by a tinge of warm grey), and along her back. It moves from her shoulders in an undefined triangular fashion, branching from her billowing shoulders and extending down the rest of her back, leaking into her flanks. The cape of her bodice is speckled with the same soft grey that peppered her ears.
And while this streamline limbed female — supple and lean muscled — has trouble intimidating those with her height, she doesn’t seem to have any trouble unleashing a scorching look of well-aimed amber. Her eyes are something of strangeness, often giving off an eerie vibe from how pale segments of them are, and how darker hues of rich, autumn-y color blend within, seeming to shift like smoke under a glass. (Of course, this is just tricks of the light, and knowing good placement.) This female carries herself in a way that is balanced and seems contained and calm, yet loose and comfortable.

Demeanor
Kismet is not inherently aggressive, rude, or cruel, but her tongue is that of a viper, though often with a drawl and tittering playfulness that could easily be its own apology or offer of friendship. She can easily get spicy though, fierce and unyielding. She does not take well to those who threaten her way of life and those she cares for. She will shred her opponents to ribbons without a thought, to protect and to live.

Kismet is aware of several weapons in her arsenal. A smile, a slow droop of eyelids, a smirk, a snarl, a gnash of teeth. Every part of her is a weapon and a bargain, part of some dangerous game of life. One she intends to play until her very last breath, and win. She doesn’t like giving herself away, either. She keeps her thoughts and feelings sheltered from prying eyes, and doesn’t let even her plans come to light. Nothing this she-wolf does is ever put out in the open before the actions take place. She appears calm and collected, always sporting a level-headed disposition.

Despite such manipulation — trained and oiled to perfection — she feels and cares deeply. As stated, she is not inherently cruel in any way, she simply does what she must to reach a tolerable conclusion. She will look after those within her pack with all the might in her bones and has often thought herself ready to die so that others might live, regardless of a game to play. She’s a realist, and one of the reckless ones. If she can preserve more life with the loss of another — including her own — she will not hesitate.

Theme Songs
Taste - Sleeping At Last
Eight - Sleeping At Last

“If it won't matter in five years, don't spend more then five minutes getting angry about it."

name

aka

age [in human years]

aka is thirty (30) in human years.

gender identification

aka is born female and identifies as one.

sexual and romantic orientation

she is bisexual and panromatic.

physique

aka is a short and slender female with thick fur around her body, unfortunately she was born with the genetic mutation of albinism. born with this rarity, she's a more likely target for predators and hunters as well. she holds no visible scars besides small scars on her neck and paws as well as a thick japanese accent.

disposition

aka is a well-mannered, sweet-natured, easygoing wolf. she uses "mr." or "mrs." when speaking to people and generally likes to help people out. while she always means well, she sometimes comes off as a bit slow. she tries to say something witty every now and again, but she usually isn't any good at it. aka is mostly a quiet, kind, and level-headed female. rarely losing her nerve and seems able to maintain clarity in any situation. despite her gentle nature, aka has trouble socializing due to her albinism seeming creepy. she mainly tries to make up for it by crafting small flower charms and trinkets to show she never means any harm.

rank

I'd like to apply for a possible care giver of the youths, but aka can be a combatant if you want her to be.

relationships/mate

she's friends with kiyoshi and okami, and often tries to make flower charms that match their coat and personalities, along with the other wolves.

"All warfare is based on deception."

Name
Khalida

Gender
Cisgender Female [She/Her]

Orientation
Biromantic & Bisexual

Age
21 [Human Equivalent]

Ranking
Combatant [Aspiring Mercenary]

Appearance
Long-limbed and willowy in physique — a true sight to behold. Standing 30 inches at the withers and weighing nearly 75 pounds, Khalida is one built for agility, elegance, and speed. Her gait is light, poise immaculate, movements silent, graceful, and practically sensual in nature — seeming to flow even when motionless. With high, noble cheekbones and a dignified frame, this female's appearance is typical of aristocracy, imitating those of a queenly nature though in reality ranking far below the prestigious title.

Khalida's fur is rather short, though kept meticulously smooth and shiny despite her feral lifestyle. Her coat is a pristine white, almost blinding in its unholy intensity, and her eyes a piercing amber. Various dark flecks can also be found on her legs, stomach, and tail. A pure black nose sits on her maw, and one can find deadly, razor-sharp incisors hiding beneath. She bears a decent amount of scarification, the most noticeable being various cuts on her rump, shoulders, and legs. Though they are not pretty scars by any means, she chooses to wear them as a symbol of pride rather than defeat. (After all, chances are the other dog got it much worse.)

Personality
Her mind is sharp and her tongue is even sharper. Khalida is a pragmatic and independent dog; a quiet presence who prefers to stay in the shadows and observe rather than engage in social interaction. Skilled at espionage and manipulation to an art, she uses keen eyes to discern even the slightest shifts of body language to use to her advantage in unscrupulous ways. She has a smooth, persuasive attitude and silver tongue, and will often involve herself in matters that are not her concern if only to obtain some form of advantage for herself.

A strategist through and through, with a cynical disregard for conventional morality and social standards she has no qualms with using her abilities to plan and guide other canines (however unknowingly) to ensure everything lines up to her utmost advantage. Like a game of chess, she sees her lessers as pawns — and she, the king. To these pawns, she is like honey, enigmatic and alluring, until it is time to strike. A favor here, a word of advice there, and suddenly one will find themselves trapped in her web of deceit. Khalida is a wolf that knows what she wants, and she will show no mercy to any who deny her it.

However, above all else, Khalida is a desperate hound — outside of her dealings around those she dislikes a terribly snarky and sarcastic individual with razor words and honey-coated mockery aplently. She can be highly judgemental, regarding the omegas and those of lesser rank with scorn, though she would never dare to turn this behavior in a competent sovereign or proxy's direction. (Being exiled for her impudence doesn't sound all that appealing.) Cold-hearted and cynical, when any dare to approach with mindless trivialities and profitless chatter they will find that derision and mockery is Khalida's forte — her words so cleverly crafted the recipient hardly knows they've been insulted until it's too late. Although her bite is painful, her words tend to be agonizing. A true deviant, if any.

Mate
None

“ Twins have a special bond. They feel safer with each other than with their peers."

"With shortness of breath, I’ll explain the infinite, how rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist."

Name
Tarkik.

Gender Identification
Genderfluid, but typically still uses he/him pronouns.

Sexuality
Demisexual.

Romantic Orientation
Panromantic.

Age
20 years old.

Physique
Sporting a silvery pelt grizzled with black and turning to more of a rust color along the muzzle, legs, and underlining of his tail, Tarkik’s coat is often sprinkled with dirt and splattered by mud from rummaging around in search of herbs. Though he has little idea what to do with them he's eager to learn their uses and incorporate them into his practice. He'll go herb hunting anywhere from the bottom of a pond to the branches of a tree towering miles above his head and his coat is rarely clean as a result.

His build is lanky and long-legged, most of his gangling frame hidden by his thick fur. Already he’s about the same height as a typical fully mature male, he is still fairly young and has quite a bit of growing yet to do do. Tarkik's nose is the darkest point on his body, being black as a chunk of coal, and his almond shaped eyes are a bright shade of amber, proving very expressive. You'll always know what Tarkik is feeling from his eyes if not his expression. The youthful herbalist is not free of scarring, his left ear quite tattered and tail crooked.

Disposition
To say the least, Tarkik is a bit of a hapless mess. Clumsy and a tad anxious, he means well but isn't the best at his job just yet. It's not necessarily through any fault of his own. He's never had a proper teacher. Often in the wild, the only things you have at your disposal for a wound are cobwebs and healers were kept around to more or less judge the severity of injuries, watching over sick or injured wolves until they either got better or died. A gloomy job truly. He's always wanted to do better and now he has the chance.

Tarkik is a non-aggressive wolf and would rather avoid a fight, uninterested in involving himself in any form of brutality and his own combat skills exceptionally poor. While practical, Tarkik is not unkind and hopes things will work out for the best regardless of the situation, as naive as that can come across. Optimistic and bubbly, he always tries to see the silver lining and you can always count on Tarkik to be optimistic. Compassionate and desiring nothing more than to simply be useful, Tarkik’s avoidance of confrontation and the way he flinches away at any sign of conflict seem to hint at an unpleasant life lived before finding his current pack.

Ranking
Herbalist.

Mate
None yet. TBD.

Theme
Saturn - Sleeping At Last.

Art commissioned from LVCIFERI (#165324) .

"Every wound will shape me, every scar will build my throne."

Name
Frostbite.

Gender Identification
Male.

Sexuality
Bisexual.

Romantic Orientation
Biromantic.

Age
25 years old.

Physique
A rather tall fellow, Frostbite reaches an impressive height, towering over more than a few of his packamtes, though he’s certainly not the largest wolf in the pack by any means. His build is willowy and agile, a decent amount of lean muscle layering his frame. He strikes an imposing presence, his wit often underestimated and abilities not to be taken lightly.

Frostbite possesses sharp and elegant attributes, a placid smile often etched across his tapered features. His body is covered in thick charcoal black fur, ticked with dark gray guard hairs along his back, sides and tail. Dashes of white fur can be found on his chest and front toes while his eyes are a bright shade of yellow. A long scar curves across the bridge of his muzzle and his ears seem a bit odd, flopping forward slightly at the tips as if the cartilage there has weakened.

Disposition
Charismatic and clever, Frostbite possesses a certain kind of charm. Quiet and inconspicuous, he's at times os mistaken for being introverted when in truth he's merely observing, learning all he can about the wolves surrounding him. Anyone who spends a decent amount of time around him will soon find he's quite sarcastic, bold and a bit full of himself.

He holds a sharp memory and can recall even the smallest of details, unable to forget them even if he occasionally wishes he could. As such, Frostbite is prone to grudge-holding, pitiless to those who cross him and often not quick to forgive. With that said, it’s fairly difficult to piss him off and he seems to tolerate most wolves quite well, save for perhaps those with a penchant for bullying. He’s been known to intervene in conflicts where one wolf outmatches the other and will frequently speak up on his meeker peers’ behalves.

Frostbite can prove shockingly empathetic despite his silent and aloof nature, seemingly willing to aid others simply because he can. Negative emotions are kept under lock and key, rarely expressed and non-existent so far as anyone else is concerned.

Ranking
Combatant.

Mate
No one yet. TBD.

Theme
Throne - Bring Me The Horizon.