(Kisu's trying a new Charrie *gasp*!)

Name: Garran (Pronunciation: Gar-ran)

Age: Four years

Gender: Male

Size: 2’9’’

Appearance:
Standing on long powerful pillars, Garran is almost half a head taller than most wolves of his species. This hulking brute is made of nothing but solid muscle, which ripples beneath his sleek coat of grey, brown, and black hues. His body is marred by countless scares, souvenirs of his past, each one worn with pride. One in particular runs from the top of his left eye all the way down to the edge of his maw. Those who ask will most likely get a demonstration, rather than an explanation as to its origin. Though built as a solid wall of power, he can move with surprising agility and speed, his multi-colored coat allowing him to blend easily with the shadows of a forested land. His auds, which sit erect when not laid back in fury, are also dyed a deep black, as though they have been dipped in the ashes of hell itself. Though his size is massive, the real power emanates from this brute’s penetrating orbs. Anywolf who gazes into Garran’s eyes are met with black coals, able to pierce through the mask of any unsuspecting wolf. The irises are a deep ebon color making it almost impossible to tell where they end and the pupils begin. Though dark, they burn with a fire within, constantly searching for any weakness Garran might use to his advantage.

Personality:
A word that might come to mind during one’s first meeting with Garran would be “unsettling.” The enormous brute is one of extreme silence, but when he speaks, it would be in your best interest to heed his words. He does not speak twice and will not tolerate those who do not listen. He is not a wolf that takes orders very well, though he will work in the companionship of others if he sees a personal benefit. Other than hunts or other ulterior motives, Garran is always alone, neither seeking nor particularly wanting the company of others. He is a wolf of no mercy and no feeling for any other creature besides himself…living or dead. With a patience that is drawn extremely short, he will ignore prattle and nonsense, or simply decide to end the matter in his own way. His eyes feel as though they can bore their way into your very soul in a penetrating gaze that never wavers. Seeing a potential challenge in almost any motion, meeting this gaze for too long is simple enough to result in your own demise. A ruthless killer, Garran takes his only joy in the death and blood of other creatures, and is not especially picky whether that blood is wolven or not. Killing is Garran’s only purpose in life, and it is the only life he’s ever known.


History:
The “creation” of the creature, for that is the best way to describe how Garran came to be, began long before his actual birth. The female that was to be Garran’s mother, dubbed Anibu, was a member of a rather small, but power hungry pack of wolves. With only six strong members in the group, they were continually driven from land to land, driven out by packs much larger than their own. Though many a time they fought for their land, their loss was almost inevitable. Frustrated and maddened by their continual defeat, the pack decides to increase their chances of survival by increasing the strength of the next generation, creating warriors for their cause. Anibu volunteered to be the carrier of these pups, and went out in search of the best possible mate. Pretending to be a simple maiden in distress, looking for the protection of a male, she went from land to land, pack to pack in search of a male with the perfect qualifications: size, strength, intelligence…nothing inferior would do.

Finally finding the perfect male, who quite luckily turned out to simply be a loner, Anibu convinced him to join her own pack and awaited the birth of the packs future. Four healthy pups were born, each looking almost as strong as the last. Garran however, stood out slightly from his other three siblings. He was a bit bigger, a bit more persistent, and a bit more aggressive than any of his brothers and sisters. Giddy with the idea that their plan might be working, the pack set to work at once, training the pups almost from the moment they opened their eyes. They were constantly pitted against one another in battles: single combat, three against one, group combat. Over and over again they would fight. Losses caused jeers and empty bellies. Wins won them nods of approval and an extra bit of meat. Garran quickly pulled ahead of the rest, winning almost every battle he fought, and giving the losers a merciless thrashing. The stronger Garran grew, the more the pack loved him. By the time he had seen one season, Garran had killed two of his siblings, severely injured another, and the fourth had simply snuck away from the pack under the cover of night.

Instead of being furious with her son, Anibu could not have been prouder. He would be the saving grace of their pack. When Garran fought, the pack would win. But he would have to be tested against stronger wolves. He then began battling the older, more experienced members of the pack, soon thrashing them as quickly and efficiently as he had his siblings. One night his mother, who was the only wolf he would listen too anymore, came to him with a final task. To earn her true respect, he would have to kill his father. Taking the news with an unflinching gaze, Garran simply nodded. Death was all he knew. Under the cover of night, he performed his deed, though not without adding to the already surprising number of scars that marred his young body. His mother greeted the news with a cold but proud smile, the first she had ever given her son.

The pack had been right, with Garran fighting for them, they began to win battles they fought with others looking to take over their lands. He fought like three wolves, seeming to be everywhere at once, with every move indented to kill. The pack’s prosperity and power grew, but as months past, so did their fear of Garran. They knew he would have the power to take over, if he so desired, and that did not sit well with the ruling Alpha, nor the other members for that matter. Who knew what life would be like under Garran’s rule? A pact was finally made to get rid of the monster they created, but any who attempted this task was immediately killed by the one they attempted to assassinate. Though he had never known friendship or kindness in the pack, Garran grew bewildered at the sudden hostility shown to him by his pack mates. The only thing he had been taught and trained to do was to defeat and kill others? Why did this no longer please them? Going to the one wolf he felt a bond with, Garran confronted his mother with his confusion. Anibu simply smiled and said they just didn’t understand him the way she did.

That night, another attack was made, but Garran simply dealt with the intruder with his usual efficiency. This time however, the blow he struck did not immediately kill. Standing over the bloody heap, watching the life slowly ebb from its body, Garran looked down to identify his potential killer. With a gasp he stumbled back, his eyes wide with disbelief: the body was that of his mother’s. With a final smile Anibu looked at her son. “I am the only one who could understand you…what a true monster I’d created…a mistake that must be destroyed.”

Still backing up, shaking his head slowly, Garran watched as his mother gave on last gasp and died. He then turned and ran from the scene, tears of pain that he had never shed rolling down his maw, flying into the night behind him. The one wolf he thought he could trust....and she had betrayed him, just like the rest. Garran finally came to realize his life had but one purpose: to kill. It had been the only reason he was created, and would be the only thing he lived for. From then on, Garran set out on his own, his heart nothing but a hardened shell, trusting, loving, caring for no one but himself.

No I hate it... bad on Kisu!

Accepted ^.^ Hehe <3