Name: Helcaraxë (Hell-car-ox-ay) © to J.R.R. Tolkein

Age: 6

Gender: Male

Connections: Fathom, Nero Scythe, Avatar

Appearance:

Helcaraxë is a stout fellow, very thick-set. Most would call him swarthy or stocky, though his legs are in good proportain to his body. His skin lies atop much hard muscle tissue, earned from years of hard labor. His black skin makes his coat look ever thicker. His tail is rather long, hanging below his hocks and almost dragging the ground.His strongly built legs accent the long tail. His small paws make him look as if he is ever about to tip over, but his balance is near-perfect. He has an overall balanced look to him as well. He does not appear to have a massive chest, or small hindquarters, thus utter balance. His ears look tiny atop his head, though they are quite well porportained, and only his vast amounts of fluff can make them appear small.These ears are perfect acute triangles, and swivel instantaniously at any sound, inconspicious or blatantly obvious. He has a straight nose, though his overall muzzle is rather dog-shaped. His teeth within his muzzle are perfect ivory fangs worth looking out for.

Helcaraxë has luminous fur that seems to glow from within with his black skin. His fur is thus a steely white. This fur fades out into near-balck on his shoulders, creating a saddle like marking not unique in the wolven world. His head holds two cold blues eyes that stare from a face devoid of any but the tiniest emotion. His eyes appear to be two holes into his mind, producing a look of utter deapth upon his face. whiskers do find thier way upon his face, and they are visible. These helpful whiskers often forcast what his mouth is about to do, whether it be snarl, laugh, or scowl. The tip of his tail shares this sooty coloration, making his every tail movement visible, even in snow. His claws too are this color, and most like to keep a careful eys on them for the chaos they wreck upon the flesh of others.

Personality:

Helcaraxë is a wolf that the phrase "seeing is beleiving" cannot even begin to describe. He relies only upon himself, not trusting the words of others. He must experiance the sensations and such for himself. He is stubborn in this, and fails to see the point in anyone trying to tell him different.

Helcaraxë is also very superstitious, though there is not much for him to look out for. He dislikes a black wolf with blue eyes, a white wolf with green eyes, and a brown wolf with gold eyes. He was raised this way. He also distrusts anything that appears what it is not. He dislikes spies and all of that sort, and deals out his anger to them heavy-handed.

He is not easily angered, normally just undergoing a smouldering temper, but his temper can spark. He grows violent, and his claws are to be feared. He does not like using his fangs except for killing, wanting to reatain thier strength for necesary times. His claws preform the job much better than jaws could anyhows.

Normaly he is reserved and silent, saving his words until he has thought them over well. He analyses and listens to all words that are spoken. He reads expressions like most would read the wind for sign of prey. He was once quick to judge, but a grave mistake changed thi in him.

History:

Helcaraxë was born the runt of a litter of three pups. His parents were the Alphas of the Glasere Varje, a pack that took in few newcomers and was mainly based off of a hereditary hierarchy. His eldest sibling was also the largest, as well as the meanest. He lied and pulled pranks and hurt to get his way. The middle sibling was a sister. She was quiet, but a master of deceit as well. Helcaraxë alone was not shady in manner as his siblings. His hue was different as well, his coat the color of fresh snow atop a granite fortress, instead of the black that his family held sacred. This too led him to be the unliked pup. He was not a trusting pup, wanting to prove everything that his parents told him for himself, including the fact that the enemy packs were evil. He almost lost his life in proving that one.

A patroller caught him crossing their border and hunted him, intending to kill the pup and bring his carcass to his own Alpha as a sign of triumph. The little white pup had difficulty finding a hiding place and so he ran. His stamina was great indeed. The adult wolf caught him by herding the pup to a creek, which was too deep and swift for a mere pup. Helcaraxë then turned to fight. He tried biting the brute, but his little puppy teeth had no purchase on the rough skin of the adult. The patroller pinned him easily with one foot. The small pup gave in. As the massive head came up the pup got an idea. He swiped at the bulbous eyes and scored. He felt his tiny claw slash through the gooey tissues of the eye. The adult whined in pain and backed up, pawing at his eye. The pup ran away, satisfied that the other packs were indeed out to get them.

At a year old Helcaraxë and his two siblings were judged. His father picked the eldest for Alphan heir. His sister took the position of seeker. He was given the rank of subordinate. His father did not like the ways of the pup that had to prove everything. His mother protested at the low rank. According to her, Alpha pups did not get ranks that low. Reluctantly he was placed as seeker, a mercenary. He excelled at the job, becoming the best in the short amount of time that he held the position.

The tide changed abruptly. His brother died in a brawl, boasting about something or another. His sister was jealous of his power and had tried to ambush him on the side of the plateau. She died in the attempt, fighting him until he clawed her up against the dge and she jumped. His father put another pup, not even his own, in the position of Alphan heir. His mother was disappointed, and sent her son to change his mind. She sent him to stay with another pack for a while, claiming that he had died.

Helcaraxë joined a pack that had been enemies with his own for many long decades. He rose in ranks, becoming the leader of the raiders, the fighters. He led an invasion of his home pack. He won some territory, but he became nostalgic. He soon crossed sides and learned that his father was dying of some mysterious disease. His mother recognized him and was overjoyed. His father named the young brute that he no longer recognized as Alpha.

Finally, Helcaraxë had gotten his rightful place. He led well, his mind strong and his courage never lacking. He became mates with Gwathia, a lovely white fae that was adept at keeping secrets, for she was known as the Shadows of Abyss. She could find out anything with her dark ways. Helcaraxë was named after the Ice that had frozen his lands over for the first time when he had been born, as well as his white coat. He had one litter of pups with Gwathia before Chaos struck.

His pups were Custer, a strong male that took after his father at being a rebel, Demi, a girl pup that was as conniving as he mother, and then Avathar. Avathar was the runt of the litter, and she was secretive. She was named after the shadows which she hid within. Helcaraxë loved his family greatly, even the quite Avathar. The disaster struck.

A monsoon ravaged his lands, flooding deserts and making many of their areas uninhabitable for prey to survive. The great hit came when one bank of the river collapsed, sending waters flooding his way. Everywolf ran for his self. Helcaraxë watched in disbelief. His pack was starving, bones and getting funguses from the foul water, only to be taken out with a wave of water. He would not let his pack die. He howled, bravely, strongly, and led his wolves. He helped those he could, and tried to prevent the passing of the others. He watched as one wolf toppled over backwards, knocking one of his pups into the ravaging waters. He wanted to leap in, but there was nothing he could do. He led the pack to the plateau. There he took note of who had been lost. His elder had drowned, along with two of his pups. He turned to the wolf that had one pup, the one least loved, hanging in his jaws like a limp rag. He grew violent, his claws making the black brute across the face and shoulders. The fate of his pups had rested on this wolf, and he had let them die! The wolf fled, the pup leaving after him.

Helcaraxë watched his tiny pack die off, plague and disease taking their toll. After the death of his mate he scattered the pack to the ends of the lands. He didn’t want to be the cause of the deaths of the strong. They could live on, join other packs and make them stronger, infuse them with the life of his lands.

Helcaraxë, with nothing, set out to wander. His wolves had betrayed one another, and know he was alone as they prospered in another’s lands. He thought over his life. It had been one big failure. He then thought of his pup. Perhaps she still lived. Perhaps he could get his paws on that wolf that took her and find out what happened. Perhaps he could confront the traitor and kill him. He sets off; following his pup’s old scent, hope within his breast. Will he find her? Will the traitor pay? Will the kidnapper be found? It’s all here, ready to be played out upon the lands of Soul of the Wild.

Erm...is the history still coming?

Okay, Its ready to be further scutinized! I do belive that this is my longest aplication yet!

Helcaraxe!

heh, very nice! I was hoping the history was forthcoming!