Post by thedarkone on Dec 29, 2010 2:11:44 GMT -5
Myra
I always had to have the upper hand
I'm struggling to see the better side of me, but I can't
Take all your jabs and taunts, you're pointing out my every fault
And you wondered why I walked away?
Back to Basics||
Name: Myra Altone Siln
Age: 3 Summers
Gender: Female
Pack: Vecka
Rank: Warrior
Other: N/A
Short personality description: The loner within the pack, a bully, and an adrenaline junkie.
A Quick Glance in the Mirror||
Looks/Attributes: Myra is one with a strong presence and air. Her body is tall, thick and densely layered with muscles. One would think she was a male from afar from her build, she stands at quite a tall height, enough where one wouldn't think she is the age that she is. Her legs are slender, good for running, but with the muscles, her running stamina isn't the best. Her fur is thick, and keeps her warm in winter, and also cushions bites a little. From certain angles, there are small spots where there is no hair; these places are home to her scars. Scars from hunting, fighting, or just falling as a pup. Nevertheless, she has many.
Myra's face can give off a lot of her personality. It's usually set in an emotionless frame, but at times she can be seen stalking around with a scowl or glare plastered on. Her eyes are always searching for something to get into, something that would give her an adrenaline rush.
Height: 34 inches
Weight: 92 pounds
Eyes: Musty yellow
Pelt: Pure black
More?||
Personality: Myra is the loner within the pack, the one that just wanders through the territory looking for trouble. She walks along the borders, searching for wolves that have crossed over that she can pick a fight with. She tends to stay away from others, not talking unless it is necessary. She holds respect for the Alphas and those of higher rankings, but she finds it annoying to have to listen to them.
Along with being a loner, Myra is a bully. She'll pick a fight with any wolf, at any time, if she's in the mood. Usually, though, when she's in the mood to fight, one can tell. Her hackles would be raised, and a dead snarl would be echoing from her throat at all times, only stopping so she could breathe. In these moods, she will attack anything that moves, except a pup.
Likes: At least three.
- Fighting (verbally and physically)
- Being alone
- The darkness
Dislikes: At least three.
- Crowds
- Overly-confident wolves
- Having to take orders
Strengths: At least three.
- Her physical power is pretty incredible.
- Having black fur, she is excellently camouflaged at night and against some surfaces.
- She can come up with fairly good strategies on the spot, and good ones when given time to think.
Weaknesses: At least three.
- She can get cocky during fights.
- She can’t run quickly or for long periods of time due to her having a muscular build.
- Her vicious temper can put her in some bad situations.
History: Myra was born under a New Moon, during a dark, cool, summer night. Her mother had given birth to five pups that night; four males and one female. Her father had known that his mate had been suffering from malnutrition since the early stages of her pregnancy, and knew that it was a miracle she had made it this long. Later that night, Myra's mother died from exhaustion, leaving five newborn pups alone with their father. There was no pack to aid them; they were loners.
A year passed. Myra, having grown with her brothers, was as strong and hardy as they were. She bore the blackest pelt, but was the only one with yellow eyes, her mother's eyes. Her features were like her father's, though. Long, slender legs, and a muscular body. She was becoming a great fighter at a young age.
Three months passed, and the leaves started turning golden, red, and brown. They spiraled to the ground in a tango with the wind. Myra was back at the den while her father had taken her brothers to practice hunting, her not being able to go since she had taken a rather bad fall whilst rough-housing with Kuna, and broken her front right paw. Therefore, she would not have been a help to them, and voluntarily stayed behind.
Hours passed, her family did not return. Hours turned to days, which then turned to weeks. She eventually had to get food, and accept that her family was not coming back. At first, grief pulsed through her, mourning for her lost family. Then came anger, thinking they abandoned her because she was the only female, or because she had broken her paw. Finally, acceptance came, and she moved on with her life, though she changed very considerably. She never saw her family again.
Meet the Family||
Sire: Darth
Dam: Kair
Siblings: Ser{m}, Darius{m}, Kuna{m}, and Ile{m}.
Other relations: N/A
The Creator||
Name: Claudia
Age: 15
Other characters: None
Role play sample: "We're going hunting, are you able to join us?" Myra's father asked her, standing before her, his sons flanking him, waiting patiently for the start of their hunt.
"I don't think I can." She lifted her paw, which was limp and swollen. An injury from horsing around with Kuna, her brother.
"We'll get something for you." Her more mature, and nicer, brother, Ile, nodded. Myra nodded back at him, a silent 'okay, thanks', and watched them trot through the trees, and disappear over a hill.
Bored, alone, and with a throbbing paw, Myra sat beneath a pine tree, awaiting her family.
It started getting dark, and Myra was pacing, her front right paw lifted off the ground as she circled the pine she had been sitting under all day. She thought nothing of their extended absence, as they sometimes went on hunting trips that took days.
Another day passed, and Myra had had enough. She limped over the hill where she had seen her family disappear over, following their very faint scent to their usual hunting area; an open field. She smelled an old carcass, that had some meat still stuck on it, and had been dragged from it's original position.
Fear struck her when she realized she had lost their scent after approaching the carcass. She backtracked, but found nothing. Her heart dropped, and she started calling out their names.
"Dad? Kuna? Ile! Darius?! SER?!" Her yells became louder with each name, fear increasing. She started limping from the carcasses, towards the trees on the other side of the field, her cries for her family loud and shrill.
A week passed, and Myra had become hopeless. Her family, nor their scent, was no where to be found.
--
Myra sat upon a mossy boulder above a creek, as motionless as her seat, thinking deeply of so many things. Six months had passed since her family's disappearance, and her overall image had changed. An angry, aggressive air radiated off of her like electricity. Her fur had lost it's sheen, but still maintained it's dark color. A scar ran across her muzzle, a badge from a fight with a loner that had challenged her for a meal a month before.
The wolf stood, her body rippling as she stepped from her perch. A blank expression marked her face as she walked through the trees. Her energy was pent up from going a week on small animals, as she hadn't seen a larger creature in that time. Her nostrils flared as she sought out something to do, something to interact with.
A wolf's scent flew through the air, hitting her in the face with the sudden intensity, it was a male, and he was close, with a kill, by the accompanying scent. Letting out a challenging snarl, she stood like a sentry among the trees, awaiting a response.
And a response she got; a large, lanky male slithered through the trees to the right of her, his fur matted and a dusty brown-grey. His teeth were bared, blood staining his maw.
Myra responded by snapping her jaws together in an aggressive bark, challenging the male for his kill.
He approached her slowly, his lips twitching over his fangs as he kept his eyes on her.
She made the first move; lashing out with a sudden intense snarl; the male had hardly enough time to react. Pinned beneath her, his paws scraped at her stomach, but she endured the stinging pain, her teeth ripping at his throat. Once again victorious, Myra made way to the barely-eaten elk just a couple of yards away.