Name: Scythe
Age: 3 years
Gender: Brute
Appearance: Scythe is a small, yet muscular wolf. He hasn't the appearance of someone tough, yet he is. His pelt has a silver hue to it, shining in dim light. With the combination of a black stripe from his nose to the base of his tail, his image is quite odd. That black stripe of fur always stands on end, as if bristling, and onlookers often get a different message. Despite it's shaggy look, Scythe's fur is shockingly thin.
Scythe has silver colored eyes with a tingue of dark green. You can see intelligence yet boredom in them, as if he is waiting for something to happen. Both of his eyes have black fur around them that reduces glares, giving him the advantage in bright-light battles. That fur also gives him a lifeless look, as his dark eyes are not easily noticed apart from the black fur.
With a silent, loping gait, combined with a lithe build, Scythe is often the master at stealth, and can often conceal himself for long periods of time. Although, on some occasions, he won't even bother to hide his presence and walks along, his paws making heavy thumps. A voice laced with warmth, Scythe has a low voice, if not gruff at times.
Personality: A lover of fighting, confusing, and nature itself, Scythe has a mixed personality of sorts.
With fighting, Scythe will look for challengers to defeat, but will never challenge another wolf without their permission. To defeat his foes, he'll use his mind to come up with battle tactics to outdo them, often coming up with tactics only he can understand. In this sense, one could say he is a smart brute. His intelligence could also be related to his nature of confusing others. Making up riddles for others to solve, and then to stump them when they can't find out the answer, that's one of the brute's favorite hobbies.
Now, nature has always had Scythe's facination, what with the new growth and all that, but what really catches his attention every time, is existance itself. He'll almost always try to find a way as to his questions, but ends up confusing even himself.
Since Scythe has never belonged to a pack, he grew up with his parents and one sibling, and he holds these memories close. He doesn't like to be in the presence of large numbers at times. For a big wolf, he is quite shy. Negative about others fighting for pain itself, but always willing to help others in need, Scythe is a friendly wolf to most.
History: Scythe hasn't the best of all pasts, but it is not full of misery or happiness either. This silver brute was born to a loner and a pack wolf. His father, Mountain, had met a fae by the name of Butterfly, a member of the local pack. They had mated, and that was against the code Butterfly's pack followed. The Alphas drove her out for "breeding with such a rogue", and banned her from their lands. To be driven out at that time was bad for Butterfly, as she could've had her pups any day. Mountain and the fae traveled together, and only three days had passed before Butterfly insisted on staying in a cave. That night, one male and three female pups were born, but only two survived. This included Scythe and one of his sisters, the only sibling our brute came to know.
With a father, mother, and only one sister, Scythe was the happiest pup in the world! He would romp around with his sister, chase his parents' tails, and he had just enough to eat. They were a happy little pack, until the time came that winter would strike, bringing with it the first blizzard of the season. With refuge in Scythe's first home, the cave, the small family sought out to stay together, until they had to eat. Mountain had volunteered to track down some-any-prey he could find. After no sign of her mate, Butterfly left the cave, reassuring little Scythe and his sister that they would be alright. And with that, the pounding ice and snow covered the last those pups would see of their parents.
After the blizzard ended, Scythe dared to venture out into the snow. With those black eye markings, he had no trouble seeing through the blinding ice. His sister wasn't so fortunate, as she refused to leave until nightfall, and Scythe didn't want to wait. After that, he left the last of his pack in the place where he was born.
Now, our poor brute was still a young pup, weaned, but not able to hunt a single thing. Wailing for help seemed like an unlikely action for him to do, but he did it. The betan of a nearby group of young wolves heard his cries, and picked Scythe up. She carried him to their camp, and gave him food, and this continued until he was just about a year and a half. With farewells to that small pack, he left to venture to places unknown. Or perhaps, the lands of Soul of the Wild...