Post by Snowmuzzle on Jul 12, 2007 5:15:33 GMT -5
Name: Blackthorn
Gender: Female
Age: 8 years old
Appearance: i207.photobucket.com/albums/bb169/Snowmuzzle/Blackthorn.jpg
She is dark, cloudy grey over most of her body, with paler mask circles around her eyes, and lighter grey on her muzzle and chest. A thick black line runs down her back, finishing at her tail and starting on her forehead to make a three-pronged mark on her head. The tip of her tail is black, as are the outsides of her ears, which are light grey inside. The toes of her front paws are white, but her hind paws are all-grey-- the same colour as her body. Her most distinguishing feature is her right eye, which she cannot see through as she is half-blind. A scar runs through it. The eye is a pale, shining grey colour, and there are a few scars on her muzzle marking her age. Her other eye is sharp yellow. Blackthorn is a stocky creature who walks with a slight limp in her front left paw from a hunting accident, and she is quite slow due to her old age. Her claws are irregular-shaped and the same colour as her paws.
History: Blackthorn was born many a moon ago, one of two in a litter. She was very close to her sister Kenna, and to her mother, but never got along well with her father, Pale Cloud. Her ambition was to be an Alpha, as a young wolf, but her father laughed at her, believing that females couldn't lead packs — only serve their mates. Furious, Blackthorn ran away with her sister to find a pack that would respect them, or some males to start a new pack with. They found none—lone males were hard to come by, and those they did find were either frightened away by Blackthorn's sharp-tongued nature or else they didn't suit her. Kenna found a mate, but he was not as strong as he boasted and perished on their travels when he ate poisoned bait.
In the end, they returned to their homeland, tired and fed up, hoping to find Pale Cloud had died or was no longer Alpha. Unfortunately, he was alive and well, and when they set foot in his territory, he sent his strongest wolves to kill his daughters. Kenna was the weaker of the two, and couldn't keep up when they ran for safety. Clambering up a rocky slope to get to the caves was too much for her, and Kenna fell to the wolves below. Blackthorn was heartbroken when she saw this, and wanted to run back down to help her, but it was one against eight, and she knew it was hopeless. Her only chance was to keep going. While Kenna's killers were busy, Blackthorn escaped to some caves and hid until the search was called off. She was more determined than ever to show her father what she was made of, and one night, crept down to where the pack was sleeping. She seized Pale Cloud by the throat, stopping his cry for help short, not letting go until she heard him give a final choke and fall limp. The pack were roused, and got ready to attack, only to find their leader dead. They turned to their other Alpha-- Blackthorn's mother. She took one look at her daughter and ran up to her, joyful and sad at the same time, calling off the pack in an instant.
Time passed, and as Blackthorn grew stronger, she rose to the rank of Alpha. She had a mate, a handsome creature by the name of Granite, but they weren't very much in love. The pack was a large one, and needed lots of controlling. They had two litters between them, but only one had a female in it-- Swayla. Swayla was Blackthorn's pride and joy; she knew that this pup would be special, and hoped she would become Alpha someday. That, however, was not to be. One harsh winter, the pack went into turmoil. There was not enough food to supply them, and the position of Alpha looked oh-so tempting to the wolves. While Granite ran away, Blackthorn felt it was her duty to stay with her pack until the end. They attacked her, and tried to kill her daughter. As she tried to fight the hordes of wolves on top of her, Blackthorn saw Swayla escaping into the forest. In what she thought would be her last few moments, the Alpha female smiled to herself. Swayla would be fine-- she was a strong youngster, and would carry on her mother's blood into the world. Blackthorn gave one final gasp, and everything went black.
When she woke, Blackthorn felt light headed and sick. She could taste her own blood washing through her mouth, and could almost hear the whisper of Dis' tongue in her ear. But when she opened one eye, all she could see was whiteness. Then she opened her other, and saw redness. Blood strewn across the snow... but why was it suddenly white over there? Slowly and painfully, Blackthorn waved her tail in front of her right eye. She couldn't see! Panic welled inside the she-wolf, but she soon pulled herself together and told herself that half-blindness was better than being dead. Turning her head, she was shocked to see another wolf lying next to her. Was it dead? Just as Blackthorn was leaning over to touch it, the wolf got up, but it wasn't a wolf that she knew. “Who are you?” she asked, and the wolf, a male, smiled softly. “I am Whitepaws of the Red-earth pack. We found you lying here... you seem ill. What happened? And what is your name?” Blackthorn opened her mouth to say, but shut it again. What if her pack knew she was still alive? They'd slay her all over again. “M-my name is...um, Moon-eye.” she said, glancing at her reflection in a puddle of melted snow. Her blind eye certainly did look like a shining, silvery full moon. “Welcome” said Whitepaws, stretching his lean body. “We will take care of you for as long as you wish.” He howled, and a small pack came trotting out of the trees-- a large female with two younger she-wolves, and three pups. They sniffed and snuffed Blackthorn's scent and whimpered their greeting, bringing her a hare to eat. She gobbled it gratefully. Then a small male pup peered out from behind his mother's legs and trotted up to Blackthorn, sizing her up. They touched noses, and Blackthorn took an immediate liking to this little one. When she asked his name, his mother replied “Firefly”, a little nervous at letting her pup go off with this stranger.
As time went on, Blackthorn recovered and became a useful member of the pack, but her eye never healed. Little Firefly grew on her as well-- she would spend many hours washing him and watching him play. Her job was to be the pack's guide-- she was wise and thoughtful, always knowing where to hunt and whether to attack an intruder or avoid him. She knew every plant and tree and creature, and liked to teach the pups what was safe to eat and how to survive. It was the day that her wisdom was needed most that it went ignored, though.
There was a distinct smell of sickness on the air that night, coming from a little farm to the east, and Blackthorn knew what it was. Panicking, she hurried back to the pack as quickly as possible and told Whitepaws: “There is rabies in the east! We must leave! NOW!”. Whitepaws shook his head. “You must be mistaken, she-wolf. There has not been sickness in this valley for years!”
Blackthorn snarled with frustration. “We have to leave! Think of your pups!”
“Nonsense! And besides, if we leave this place, we will starve! There is good food here.” Whitepaws' mate cried out. “Leave if you must, Moon-Eye, but we won't follow.
“So be it.” was the reply, and Blackthorn melted into the shadows. Next morning, Firefly and Blackthorn were gone...
She'd taken him, with the promise to protect him from the rabies, and it worked. Days later, she came back to where she'd left the pack and found them lain in a little circle, covered in bites and with threads of silvery drool hanging from their jaws-- killed by their ignorance. Firefly howled with despair, but he was too young to understand what had really happened. He was growing weaker by the day and Blackthorn knew it. She hadn't thought about him needing milk when she'd taken him, and it was taking a toll on the tiny pup. He could barely stand... “What am I going to do with you, Firefly?” she sighed. Let him die slowly? Kill him quickly? She could do neither of these! All she could do was put the pup in the care of the gods, and hope someone would care for him. As the sun rose up over the hills, she placed the pup in a bed of ferns to the north of the territory, and, choking with emotion, left him. Perhaps she would never know what happened to him... but she prayed they would meet again. (Note: You may play Firefly as your character, but he will be an adult as this is set about four years ago)
Personality: A tough wolf with a strong personality, Blackthorn is not one to be messed with. She isn't afraid to kill if she feels it necessary, and says what she thinks. Clever and wise, but can be short-tempered. She has a soft spot for pups, liking to teach them what she knows, and her separation from Firefly has made her bitter in some ways. She dislikes packs after her past experiences, but as she is slower and weaker in her old age, she may consider joining a small group. She likes to watch the goings on, often seen lying on a vantage point or haunting the forests, but is very good at vanishing if she does not want to be seen.
Gender: Female
Age: 8 years old
Appearance: i207.photobucket.com/albums/bb169/Snowmuzzle/Blackthorn.jpg
She is dark, cloudy grey over most of her body, with paler mask circles around her eyes, and lighter grey on her muzzle and chest. A thick black line runs down her back, finishing at her tail and starting on her forehead to make a three-pronged mark on her head. The tip of her tail is black, as are the outsides of her ears, which are light grey inside. The toes of her front paws are white, but her hind paws are all-grey-- the same colour as her body. Her most distinguishing feature is her right eye, which she cannot see through as she is half-blind. A scar runs through it. The eye is a pale, shining grey colour, and there are a few scars on her muzzle marking her age. Her other eye is sharp yellow. Blackthorn is a stocky creature who walks with a slight limp in her front left paw from a hunting accident, and she is quite slow due to her old age. Her claws are irregular-shaped and the same colour as her paws.
History: Blackthorn was born many a moon ago, one of two in a litter. She was very close to her sister Kenna, and to her mother, but never got along well with her father, Pale Cloud. Her ambition was to be an Alpha, as a young wolf, but her father laughed at her, believing that females couldn't lead packs — only serve their mates. Furious, Blackthorn ran away with her sister to find a pack that would respect them, or some males to start a new pack with. They found none—lone males were hard to come by, and those they did find were either frightened away by Blackthorn's sharp-tongued nature or else they didn't suit her. Kenna found a mate, but he was not as strong as he boasted and perished on their travels when he ate poisoned bait.
In the end, they returned to their homeland, tired and fed up, hoping to find Pale Cloud had died or was no longer Alpha. Unfortunately, he was alive and well, and when they set foot in his territory, he sent his strongest wolves to kill his daughters. Kenna was the weaker of the two, and couldn't keep up when they ran for safety. Clambering up a rocky slope to get to the caves was too much for her, and Kenna fell to the wolves below. Blackthorn was heartbroken when she saw this, and wanted to run back down to help her, but it was one against eight, and she knew it was hopeless. Her only chance was to keep going. While Kenna's killers were busy, Blackthorn escaped to some caves and hid until the search was called off. She was more determined than ever to show her father what she was made of, and one night, crept down to where the pack was sleeping. She seized Pale Cloud by the throat, stopping his cry for help short, not letting go until she heard him give a final choke and fall limp. The pack were roused, and got ready to attack, only to find their leader dead. They turned to their other Alpha-- Blackthorn's mother. She took one look at her daughter and ran up to her, joyful and sad at the same time, calling off the pack in an instant.
Time passed, and as Blackthorn grew stronger, she rose to the rank of Alpha. She had a mate, a handsome creature by the name of Granite, but they weren't very much in love. The pack was a large one, and needed lots of controlling. They had two litters between them, but only one had a female in it-- Swayla. Swayla was Blackthorn's pride and joy; she knew that this pup would be special, and hoped she would become Alpha someday. That, however, was not to be. One harsh winter, the pack went into turmoil. There was not enough food to supply them, and the position of Alpha looked oh-so tempting to the wolves. While Granite ran away, Blackthorn felt it was her duty to stay with her pack until the end. They attacked her, and tried to kill her daughter. As she tried to fight the hordes of wolves on top of her, Blackthorn saw Swayla escaping into the forest. In what she thought would be her last few moments, the Alpha female smiled to herself. Swayla would be fine-- she was a strong youngster, and would carry on her mother's blood into the world. Blackthorn gave one final gasp, and everything went black.
When she woke, Blackthorn felt light headed and sick. She could taste her own blood washing through her mouth, and could almost hear the whisper of Dis' tongue in her ear. But when she opened one eye, all she could see was whiteness. Then she opened her other, and saw redness. Blood strewn across the snow... but why was it suddenly white over there? Slowly and painfully, Blackthorn waved her tail in front of her right eye. She couldn't see! Panic welled inside the she-wolf, but she soon pulled herself together and told herself that half-blindness was better than being dead. Turning her head, she was shocked to see another wolf lying next to her. Was it dead? Just as Blackthorn was leaning over to touch it, the wolf got up, but it wasn't a wolf that she knew. “Who are you?” she asked, and the wolf, a male, smiled softly. “I am Whitepaws of the Red-earth pack. We found you lying here... you seem ill. What happened? And what is your name?” Blackthorn opened her mouth to say, but shut it again. What if her pack knew she was still alive? They'd slay her all over again. “M-my name is...um, Moon-eye.” she said, glancing at her reflection in a puddle of melted snow. Her blind eye certainly did look like a shining, silvery full moon. “Welcome” said Whitepaws, stretching his lean body. “We will take care of you for as long as you wish.” He howled, and a small pack came trotting out of the trees-- a large female with two younger she-wolves, and three pups. They sniffed and snuffed Blackthorn's scent and whimpered their greeting, bringing her a hare to eat. She gobbled it gratefully. Then a small male pup peered out from behind his mother's legs and trotted up to Blackthorn, sizing her up. They touched noses, and Blackthorn took an immediate liking to this little one. When she asked his name, his mother replied “Firefly”, a little nervous at letting her pup go off with this stranger.
As time went on, Blackthorn recovered and became a useful member of the pack, but her eye never healed. Little Firefly grew on her as well-- she would spend many hours washing him and watching him play. Her job was to be the pack's guide-- she was wise and thoughtful, always knowing where to hunt and whether to attack an intruder or avoid him. She knew every plant and tree and creature, and liked to teach the pups what was safe to eat and how to survive. It was the day that her wisdom was needed most that it went ignored, though.
There was a distinct smell of sickness on the air that night, coming from a little farm to the east, and Blackthorn knew what it was. Panicking, she hurried back to the pack as quickly as possible and told Whitepaws: “There is rabies in the east! We must leave! NOW!”. Whitepaws shook his head. “You must be mistaken, she-wolf. There has not been sickness in this valley for years!”
Blackthorn snarled with frustration. “We have to leave! Think of your pups!”
“Nonsense! And besides, if we leave this place, we will starve! There is good food here.” Whitepaws' mate cried out. “Leave if you must, Moon-Eye, but we won't follow.
“So be it.” was the reply, and Blackthorn melted into the shadows. Next morning, Firefly and Blackthorn were gone...
She'd taken him, with the promise to protect him from the rabies, and it worked. Days later, she came back to where she'd left the pack and found them lain in a little circle, covered in bites and with threads of silvery drool hanging from their jaws-- killed by their ignorance. Firefly howled with despair, but he was too young to understand what had really happened. He was growing weaker by the day and Blackthorn knew it. She hadn't thought about him needing milk when she'd taken him, and it was taking a toll on the tiny pup. He could barely stand... “What am I going to do with you, Firefly?” she sighed. Let him die slowly? Kill him quickly? She could do neither of these! All she could do was put the pup in the care of the gods, and hope someone would care for him. As the sun rose up over the hills, she placed the pup in a bed of ferns to the north of the territory, and, choking with emotion, left him. Perhaps she would never know what happened to him... but she prayed they would meet again. (Note: You may play Firefly as your character, but he will be an adult as this is set about four years ago)
Personality: A tough wolf with a strong personality, Blackthorn is not one to be messed with. She isn't afraid to kill if she feels it necessary, and says what she thinks. Clever and wise, but can be short-tempered. She has a soft spot for pups, liking to teach them what she knows, and her separation from Firefly has made her bitter in some ways. She dislikes packs after her past experiences, but as she is slower and weaker in her old age, she may consider joining a small group. She likes to watch the goings on, often seen lying on a vantage point or haunting the forests, but is very good at vanishing if she does not want to be seen.