Terracotta was named because he rather enjoyed playing in the mesas near by as a cub. His splashes of piebald coloring were often covered in browns and reds. He suggests it was only because he thought it looked cool, but others in the pride argue that it was because he felt 'outted' and different because of his mutation.

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They Call Me A God often thinks highly of herself and disregards what others have to say. She doesn't like cubs that much but loved ypuvking/queen so she does what he says. She loves her friends and is also very protective of them at times if danger. Though she doesn't seem like she likes her pride mates she would ise for them.

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ℱ𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈 ℴ𝒻 ℬ𝓁ℴℴ𝒹's name and namesake usually tend to scare off newcomers and young cubs, but in reality she is one of the kindest lions in the pride, and usually is one of the first to step up whenever anyone needs help.

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As a tigon, Iris doesn't get along well with the rest of her pride. She knows she's different from the lionesses. Her natural curiosity, therefore, has manifested in a great love for the world around her.

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Lehill is a bit insecure about her eyes a bit

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Dawn was never quite fond of pride life; she preferred being on her own near the water. You can always find her near that same waterhole. Settled down in the soft dirt, her paws slowly drifting through the water, her claws tracing across the stone. That's where she found the flowers that she wears upon her pelt. She enjoys the soft scent; it reminds her of the waterhole, and the various nights she's spent there.

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KΛƬΉΛЯӨƧ loves to spend time by herself though she does enjoy the company of others. She is saddened that she is the only one in the pride other than a few cubs.

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Time is Fantasy is a little ashamed of her eyes - she loves talking to other lions and making new friends, but sometimes they freak out at the sight of her gaze - especially after the Time of the Serpent (June event). She's a little jealous that her father King Chicken Tender is able to get over this so easily and make friends regardless.

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Want to know where to find Arbutum Agros? Check the fields, any will do, as long as they're expansive, that's where he'll be. Sprinting through the fields, his paws leaving prints on the crushed grass that he tears through. Rabbits be warned, that's for sure. He always enjoys the hunt, that's another thing about him. No rabbit is too quick to catch. You'd almost think that he's a hybrid of a lion and cheetah and not a leopard.

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The Warden rarely speaks, there is little to say, but in the depths of the prison alone other than their unwilling charges there is plenty of time for thought. Thoughts of duty, purpose, morality, life, death. One would not expect such an intimidating lion to be philosophically minded but when you spend so much time alone, the best person to talk to becomes yourself. With yourself there is no need for idle chatter, no forced conversation or guessing games. There are only your own personal truths.

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Adaeze often gets mistaken for a wolf with a skinny tail due to how fluffy she is, she thinks its funny and likes to often play along with the joke.

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Despite daredevils name she is quite cautious and careful around unknown things. Her pride mated often tease her for it, but she plays along with it.

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Dreaming Dark has a strange connection with birds. From collecting feathers and skulls to effortlessly communicating with them, her nature prompts some suspicion in pride members.

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Maasym endlessly wanders the fields of long since ended wars. She explores the ruins of battlefields and searches through the trenches. No one's quite sure if she's looking for something, finds curiosity in death, wants to know the history of the battle, or simply enjoys cold walks through fields of corpses. Either way, that's where you can find her most often. That and stalking birds within elephant graveyards.

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The enigmatic figure known as "The Scavenger" is perpetually trailed by a retinue of birds. Should any of these feathered companions meet an untimely demise, she reveals a remarkable display of tenderness. With exquisite care, she plucks the feathers from the fallen bird and delicately attaches them to her own body, preserving a poignant connection.

At times, The Scavenger employs a shrewd stratagem by placing a log beneath a moving vehicle, meticulously staging a faux accident. Her impassioned cries, resonating with urgency, simulate the distress of someone who has been struck by the vehicle. As concerned onlookers rush to the scene, drawn by her cries, she seizes the opportunity to stealthily pilfer anything she can carry from their belongings.

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