Name: Grgur
Age: Seven
Gender: Brute
Pack: Loner
Position:
Mate: No
Pups: None as of yet
Favourite attack: Throat grabs
Appearance:
When you first look at Grgur you see a quiet and submissive wolf, but as you scan the features you can get more of a story. Covered in hazel fur with flecks of white and auburn his body is slim, and any of his bulk is around his hips. He has one brown orb one green, usually half closed and looking downwards. His crown is most comfortable lower down, adding to the subdued effect he gives, though this is not always a handicap because if a fight was to occur he could get a nice throat grab, his favourite attack. He hangs low on his haunches, shoulders usually higher than the rest of his body, his plume, hangs between his legs, never swaying, he sees it a an invitation to bite it if he does. He has two scars on his hind, one a puncture mark, small in size but defined against his auburn and hazel fur. His fores, muscular but appearing fatty, stay a little further out than the rest of him, tentatively stepping in front of his frame. His hinds remain a bit bent, as if to leap out of the way of something. His maw is short and wide, white tufts of fur surround his lips and nostrils. He I not easily camouflaged amongst the forest during the warmer seasons, nor is he invisible in winter, but in autumn it could become harder to notice him because of the natural reds and brown in his fur. His voice is like that you would expect a teenager to have, sometimes higher and sometimes lower, very often he avoids speaking because of this. It I not an intimidating voice or a squeamish, squeaky voice. But a solemn voice that appears calm in most situations.
Personality: A tainted wolf, it is the best way to describe him, mind etched with the blood of his family and the terror of mankind drove him away from all he ever loved. He idolises his father and brother for taking down the beast that took away his sister and wishes to be as strong as them. His nightmares keep him from peace. His nature is mixed up; he fears confrontation and yet desires something to fight for. He wants to mate but fears the loss of another loved one. He is a sturdy runner and travels well over long distances, making up for his lack of skill in battle. He is enticed easily by smells, driving him into trouble quite often but he usually scrapes by without to much hassle. He is very untrusting but naïve, found in solitude or by a river if asked he will aid anyone he can, keeping an eye on them at all times. He struggles to have relationships with other wolves, usually shy around faes and intimidated around brutes, making his life lonely. He wishes to join another pack but does not know how to, being too afraid to ever try.
History: Born under the ever caring eyes of his mother, Grgur and his siblings had what can be referred to as a good upbringing. They never hungered and never feared, as their father was a violent hunter and had never come home without food. Their den was warm with love and thousands of aromas, tastes and sights awaited them when they left their home to join a hunt. Although they never dared join in the dangerous hunts their father embarked on they did wander the area marked out for them by him. Grgur was about three months when he first left the den, a potent memory to him, his tiny maw pressed deep into the ground as he moved so lightly. He remembers when he took a step up to a plant with bright blooming purple flowers, sniffing it so slowly, and when he rubbed his nares against it how a droplet of water fell on his face. The first time he had ever experienced the feeling of rain on him. This truly was a utopia in his memory, how his family had been so close and how he used to be coddled by his mother at night as he pressed up against her chest and slept. It was solemn, euphoric.
Tragedy struck though, when one day his father didn’t return from a hunt they all assumed the worst. He was a stunning fighter, and a marvellous tracker, he would not be lost in his homeland for six years. The pups were now older, stronger, faster and wiser. Nearly five years old they decided to abandon their whimpering mother, too distraught by the thought of losing her mate to notice their disappearance, to look for him. The now adult wolves split up, s and his sister Kahanu, travelled towards the clumps of trees where their father collected more tender prey whilst the other two, Bhaskara and Candrima, went east towards the larger prey. Bhaskara had inherited the strength of his father well, whilst Grgur was weak and relied more on his luck than Braun. Grgur was noticing things he hadn’t before, like the small rabbit dens amongst the foliage, the birds in the trees. Whereas before things used to be less visible to him, he could notice it all without his father beside him praising Bhaskara for his talents. He also noticed things he didn’t like though; the tracks of his father he was following led out past a river. He knew he would never find him this way, and they had already passed the marker for them to stop. Kahanu was more alert than Grgur, she simply wanted to find their father and return back to their mother. Grgur didn’t hear it at first, the voices, distinctly their brother, and yes, their father as well. He darted towards the sound, he was agile and in a way graceful as he bounced off the ground through the brush terrain. Kahanu was short behind him when they hit a clearing, Grgur was certain this was the place of the call. He called out to them, "Bhasakra, father, where are you?"...he received no reply. All he heard was the wind in the grass beneath his feet.
Then a sudden noise, deep and sorrowful, a loud bang echoed through his spine, nothing good came from whatever made that noise. He ordered Kahanu wait for him in the trees, she reluctantly obeyed him He darted at that sound, deciding whatever had made it would soon feel his wrath.
He quickly approached the figures, four bodies, one high on its hind legs, paws linked to some kind of long log. The thick black stench hit him hard, it was like nothing he ever imagined, heavy and bewildering, and it clogged his nostrils and made the scene much more abstract to him. He saw his father stood proud, high on his haunches, snarling at the creature. Then his brother, his coat shining in the sunlight, lower down than his father, head tilted as if he was to strike for the throat of the animal. Then he saw his sister, laid down in the mud, crimson stained fur. Rage welled up inside him as he saw his father spring at the monster. Then his brother howled triumphantly before pouncing upon it. Three puncture marks to the back was Bhaskaras contribution, whilst their father tore at the animals face with his claws. More crimson matter everywhere, their father took the beasts’ throat in his jaw, his powerful jaw capable of bringing a stag down in one fell strike. The sight of vengeance stuck in his head for a long time, how his father tore the creatures’ throat out, how they all laid next to his sister after, whining.
That night he was consumed by nightmares, ghoulish figures with long logs firing smells at wolves, the brilliantly scarlet juices flowing from both groups. A horrific sight to him, he ran from the den, ran as fast as he could, not caring where he went as long as it was away from the logs.
great appy, accepted! ^.^