OOC: I hope this is good enough.

Name: Morgra
Age: Three and a half summers have withered in her pride.
Gender: Female
Pack: Loner
Position:
Appearance: Though as a pup her pelt was rusted blade in color, it darkened immensly to a red-golden hue. Her pelt may be considered thin to most others but the protection it gives against the cold is astounding. The fur that trails down her paws can be described as obsidian, for no trace of neither white nor grey can be found. The thin fur covering her maw is also ebon in color, but disperses to a rusted as it begins to trail down her chest and along her belly. Optics of a golden amber though her left orb has a slight abnormality, around the black pupil is a light crystal blue. Most find this strange to see in a varg though her mother told her it made her unique in a way none would understand. Although her appearance can be decribed as 'freakish' among other Morgra has learned to merely ignore the opinions of other simply because of her unusual exterior. Morgra, as any wolven may have noticed, is far from ordinary. Many small but unique qualities are held within her personality and appearance. But underneath the fur dwells her feminine figure, though it is well muscled from her constant trekk. Despite this she still retains a slender build of her kin.

Though you can see the muscles rippling beneath her pelt she still retains her feminine build, a long sleek bodice, the look of a female. Though her paws may seem to be dainty they can turn into a deadly deliverer of pain in battle. A quick swipe in a well placed assault could deal a hefty blow to any wolf, or any creature for that matter. By perfecting her gait she can run silently, no matter how hard one strains their auds to hear the familiar sound of her foot fall. Her vocals speak in a an eerily calm tone, a voice that is often used to cause another to have second thoughts about mocking her. But be warned that seemingly soothing tone can turn in a viscous threat when threatened by another varg. She walks neither proud nor submissive, its just normal. Though she changes her posture to fit her surroundings whether she need to lower herself to show respect to a superior or she raises her tassle and chest to be in a position of dominance over the omega.

Whatever you want to call it, basically she adapts to her environment. As for her physique, Morgra could be easily defined as catlike. Her body is lean and lithe, though some would call her underweight. When her body stretches out at a full run, her body looks almost skeletal, though when at a standstill, she seemes perfectly formed. Her legs are long and her joints are like the roots of trees. Small and feminin, but sturdy and strong. Her back has a graceful curve to it, as does her belly. Average sized for a fae of her kind but certainly not to be considered small. Others would often judged her by her eyes and cast her away before they got to know her. But as a young pup her mother often told her that her eyes made her no different than anyone else, it merely made her unique in a way that few would understand. But because of the torment she had suffered as a youngling Morgra has always retained her tainted mind, at will remain as such.

Personality: This fae of rust has an understanding of the world around her, also holding an inner eye for beauty she can bring out the inner secrets in nearly all things she sees. If put in a higher position she can hold her own, keeping her dominant stature if threatened by another. Words that exceed her maw usually talk of the truth of the matter at hand. She may seem overly serious but her unique sense of humor shows itself when necessary. She prefers not to see herself as a uniquely viewed wolfess who wanders the earth with no meaning in her life. Instead she sees herself as a bringer of darkness, mostly seeing the shadows within light.

She does not think that she is little miss perfect but holds the sense that all vargs are equal to eachother. She enjoys the company of both male and female and holds that one soft spot for pups. Despite this eerily calm exterior she can turn deadly with the flick of an aud. Though she prefers not to reveal this side of her except perhaps in the midst of a fight. Morgra is a fae of many sides. To the observer's eye, she is a mainly placid fae, a delicate thing that is like a flower that wilts when the sun goes behind a cloud. Her eyes are clear and beautiful, and can be perceived as happy, when really a hurt resides in them stronger than any other emotion. Upon a first meeting, Morgra is quickly noted to be the strong silent type, preferring to speak through body language than words. Even after meeting someone, she is quite silent; she thinks to herself a lot, comparing her past to the present, and likewise to the future. But that is only one side to her story. Morgra, although drawn back from others at first, can be quite a pleasure to be around. She would rather sit in the companionship of others than dwell in the shadows as a loner.

In so, she is an intelligent femora, and does not let much pass her by. She is quick to pick up on the actions of others, and so, is able to anticipate. But when you truely delve into her character, you can see a truley troublesome fae. Her looks can be greatly deceiving, having a horrible past makes the fae very bitter and cynical, resentful beyond compare when her past is brought up. From a placid female to writhing vipor, the fae is one of many colors. She quickly gets a dark perception of others, and is quite a critical thinker. When many are confronted by Morgra, she may seem a bit distant, even cold at times. While this may be her normal personality, she's actually a very complex wolven. She's not exactly the "funny" one, seeing as how her sense of humor is rather morbid. Morgra is hard to describe, and can be used in many words. A sly and outgoing fae, sneaky at first impressions, smart and quick-witted in the end. She has a strong sense of loyalty and when broken you know she's gone crazed. Morgra is not known to be angered easily and sets herself with a patience that can outlast time. But still one's patients can only be stretched so far. Although at times she can be one to express her respectful ways, she can also redivert his emotions swiftly.

The worst thing is if you even happen to breaking through her patience, she’ll be quick on her feet to spring and force you back in line without a speck of grief, pity, or mourn. Strangers will never get a peek to the best of her. But she makes a point of not being rude in her actions. But do not mess with this seemilngly slender femora, beneath her ruffled fur is a well muscled femme capable of giving any male a decent battle. Careful not to cross ties with this femora, if your intentions be inpure.

History: What subtle actions bring to us the illusion of courage, they compel us to believe that whatever is being said or done, is simple bravery, gallantry, anything which requires a strong will and nerves of steel. But for what we do not realise is that this courage is but a mirage in the dessert of our lives. Just a simple chimera, which hinders our very perception to make us believe what we have seen is part of the greater good. What I mean is, we all relate these words, bravery and courage to good things. Yet flaws such as envy or hate are often part of evil things. But what really does define this daring lurks somewhere within us all. Many of the wolven breed, when the name Morgra is whispered, think of an devil of sorts. They believe that she is either a wandering loner looking for a pack or a spirit that is trying to fix past mistakes.

Rynn's warmth was calming as her heartbeat lulled her to sleep. Her and her four siblings had their first practice hunt and were exhausted. Dante padded over to the cave entrance one last time to stand guard. All of a sudden everything was different. The shrill bay of hounds echoed through the forest as Rynn scrambled to gather the pups. Dante was alert and ordered Rynn to take two pups and run to saftey. That was the last time Morgra saw her mother, and to this day she still cannot find them. Morgra was pushed to the back of the cave as Dante figured out what to do. Finally he grabbed the pups and headed outside....too late. The hounds had caught thier scent and Dante sprinted past a hound to get away. Another dog cut him off and yet another ramed into him as he darted sideways. Out of breath Dante ordered the young pups to run. Kashera fell back not able to keep up. Morgra rushed back to her urging her to speed up. In the distance the was a sharp "BANG!". Morgra sped up and nipped Kashera to move faster.

Being young the pups they couldn't outrun the swift pillars of the hounds. The duo had barely made it past the big oak tree when the hounds were onto them. Kashera fell back again and Morgra looked back to see a vortex of dust as the hounds caught up to her...she ran faster now and could hear the strong beat of a hound's paws striking the ground with each malice step running after her. To her left a small hole at the base of a tree came in as a clear picture to her optics. Everything went black as she was knocked out by the shere impact of her crania to the tough roots of the oak.

She woke sometime later to an angry chipmunk chipering for her to get out of its home. Wearily she got up and finally saw the gleaming light of day before her. She winced as her optics adapted to the sudden light intensity. In her first few days she struggled to even walk a few miles before her hunger hurt took its toll causing fatigue. She caught small animals and learned how to putwit small prey such as rabbits. She grew very fit as she traveled and could easily run a few miles before any sign of tiring appeared.

Humans were her worst fear and as she got farther away from her father's terrirtory she saw many more humans, thus learning to stay in the shadows and hunt at night. Rival packs prowling the borders of their territory would threaten her and dive her away with ther jowls snapping at her heels. Coming upon her first year she ran into a trap and knawed at the rope that bound the trap shut until it finally snapped and gave way. That had tremendously slowed her down so she was in hiding until her paw healed. Winter brought a hard time with rare meals. It was then that she lost a large amount of weight and the dizziness and weakness slowly began to take its toll. Though she had somehow survived the season of white until the increase in temperature melted the cold bringer. Spring brought a surplus of food and she ran easily and hunted often.

Morgra never knew what she was looking for until he came upon this place where they might accept her. After going through a year on her own without much knowledge of the outside world she feels that she knows enought to finally stop running from her past. She had to "grow up" in that year or she would have not survived. Now is her time to truly be a wolf as a wolf should be.

Ooh, looks like Kazzy could make a chicky friend...

Wait, there's another wolf like Morgra here? Coolies!!

Yep, Kazzim's got a bit of maned wolf blood in him. (at least I'm pretty sure that's what it is...) He isn't exactly friendly, though. ;) I wonder how he'd react to another wolf "like him"...

Who knows, Morgra might be a bit 'surprised to see another wolf like her. Are there any other maned wolves here?

Few things but not much ^.^

1)

Wolves can't exactly kill another wolf with a swipe of their paw. They can dig deep but not kill them ^.^

2)

That one just confused me a bit. If she had lack of food then she would be famished and not have a high fitness level. Perhaps its just the wording you used but yeah, that confused me. Please explane if you would or just change it ^.^

3)

Ok with that, her fangs would have broken and she wouldn't have been able to get through metal bars anyway. So... perhaps if you found a different trap? Or a different way she got out? At the moment, wolves arn't capable of chewing through metal ^.^

Das all I saw ^.^

~Niccy

Yeah, Kazzim is a maned wolf. His parents were maned wolf and wolf. But he looks like a maned wolfie.

K, I think I fixed it all.