Copper's Characters

[Copper]

ｗａｒｒｉｏｒ ｃａｔｓ

➸ Raventhorn ➸ Tom Cat ➸ 25 Moons ➸ Warrior ➸ Single

Raventhorn is a smokey-white tabby. His fur is a canvas of light Grey with a few dark brown points on the ridge of his nose and his legs. His tail is a strikingly brown that looks almost out of place from the rest of his body. Raventhorn is a sturdily built and stocky tom. He has short legs and is scarcely taller than the average clan apprentice but weighs in at an even eleven pounds. His paws are large compared to the rest of his body and he sports a round face with small ears. One of the most noticeable things about Raventhorn are his ice-blue, crossed eyes. Though these were the reason he was a little slow to develop eye-paw coordination as a kit they don't impact his daily life too much as an adult ... at least, not most of the time.

Raventhorn's personality is that of a Chipmunk. He is forever finding an endless assortment of things in the woods that he likes to keep tucked away in his secret stash outside of camp. After all one can never have too many funny looking leaves or uniquely colored stones. Much to the dismay of his denmates his nest is often a mess and piled with feathers, rocks and a whole other assortment of things that Raventhorn "Will definably need later so don't throw those out". Apart from his hunter - gatherer tendencies Raventhorn is an all around fun Tom to be with. He's always cheerful and friendly to everyone and while he would fight to help his clan he has never see much sense in it. "Why have enemies if you can have friends instead" is his motto in life. He adores the the 'kits and the 'paws of the clan likely because they have the same go-lucky attitude towards like that he does.

Raventhorn was born into the clan. He came from a litter of four and though he never met his father his mother, Foxtail, said that he looks just like him. He had a relatively normal kithood and nothing much out of the ordinary happened to him during his time spent as a 'paw though it may be worth noting that on his first day out hunting with his mentor he caught not one but two rabbits. At the end of the day when Warrior duties are done and fun is to be had one can often find Raventhorn lazing about the nursery entertaining the young kits with stories and games he himself invented.

➸ Weaselfur ➸ Tom Cat ➸ 30 Moons ➸ Medicine Cat

Weaslefur has eyes that can be best described as Newleaf Green tinged with the faintest hints of a leafbare orange. No matter how close or how far on is, the sharpest of eyes can see the muscles that stand out in Weaslefurs thin legs. Supportive of his lightly muscled body, his legs are the central of his power, used primarily for hunting, and herb seeking. His shoulders are large and powerful, matching the strength and build of his thighs and back paws. Weaslefurs pelt is a base of sandy brown covered in many fine black and grey stripes. A light grey accents his paws, tail tip, chest and muzzle with a wide dash running across the middle of his forehead. Weaslefur is missing his left ear and though his littermates teased him relentlessly for it during his kithood it is rarely commented on by other members of the clan anymore.

Weaslefur is a soft and kindhearted tom, polite and sincere, noble and protective. Being as soft and sweet as he is, Weaslefur can have his moments of harsh behavior. He stands for what he believes in, and protects all that he holds dear, most importantly the ones in the Clan he resides in. The young Tom is not keen on fighting but uses his minor fighting skills when they really need to be used. He was built for healing and hunting alone and tends to stay neutral in all discussions regarding the raising of claws. Weaslefur has a special talent for healing, so it isn't a surprise if he goes into thorough great detail of herbs and their uses when asked about them. He is an intelligent Tom and usually creates a conversation spiced with similes, metaphors and descriptive words. Weaslefur loves to learn new things and will often watch the Warriors training their apprentices so pick up on the latest battlemoves. In summation he is a very well rounded Tom, not overly spectacular but just unique enough to be the topic of conversation from time to time.

Weaslefur has lived in the clan his whole life. He has two siblings Rainfur and Beetlewing who he is fairly close to, both of his parents are with Starclan and he thinks of them still from time to time though his thoughts are mostly on another starry-pelted cat. Though relationships are strictly forbidden for Medicine cats Weaslefur has been madly in love with Snowbird, a young Starclan warrior since well into his apprenticeship. From the first day she walked in his dreams he’s been looking forward to the time that his days in the forest are over so he could finally be with her. Though he would never dare to talk of her to any-cat he spends his ideal moments deep in thought of the day he will finally be able to push his nose into her fur.

➸ Fernpaw ➸ She Cat ➸ 11 Moons ➸ Apprentice ➸ Single

Fernpaw sports a snow-white forefront that extends to not only half of her face but also onto a few choice patches on her body and hind paws. Overall she could be best described as a grey and brown tabby though her stripes are barely visible giving her a more “patched” look than anything else. Her eyes are a mesmerizing sight, yellow tinged with green and the ever faintest hint of orange. Fernpaw has a very short bobbed tail the rest of her tail is buried somewhere in the forest. As a kit her and her mischievous littermates wandered out of their mothers watchful sight and she got herself tangled in a steel trap and lost part of her tail in the process. She is alright with it though because she feels that it makes her look dangerous and unique.

Fernpaw despite looking like a friendly and easy to love she-cat is anything but. If one could only use a single word to describe this young apprentice it would be sarcastic. She isn’t at all shy about stating her opinion, no matter if it was asked for or not. Some would think this is a bad quality but Fernpaw calls it “just being honest” and afterall, isn’t honestly always the best protocol? Regardless if you don’t like her that’s not her fault and she certainly won’t pine over the loss of your friendship. Fernpaw isn’t the type of she cat you will find batting her eyes and giggling at the Tom. She has far too much respect for herself to ever do, or even think of doing, such a thing. While not outright mean Fernpaw’s bark is just as bad as her bite and it would certainly be wise to not provoke her because she won’t hesitate to bat you over the ears if she feels you are being foolish.

Fernpaw doesn’t like to speak about her past, considering it a taboo subject. Born to a litter of five and a rouge mother times weren’t easy for the little family. Her mother left her near the camp where the clan cats lived hoping they would be found when she was still very young. Her inquisitive nature proved too much for her mother and after she lost her tail to a bear trap Fernpaws mother knew that she couldn’t take care of the spirited kit. Fernpaw has been with the clan ever since and though they are welcoming of her and consider her family she still regards herself as an outsider.

➸ Adderfang ➸ Tom ➸ 32 Moons ➸ Deputy ➸ Single ➸ Earthpowers

Adderfang is a rather vain tom and goes out of his way to keep his appearance in order. Dark brown stripes accent a lighter brown undertone, mixing together in a canvas of earthen tones. Emotionless Green eyes complete this tom's face, making him the rather dashing looking fellow. His fur is thick and luscious and is kept soft by a steady regime of washing. Adderfang is of average size, nothing too large or too small and has a good amount of stamina and strength and has the experience to back him in battle. He has a deep series of scars running across his legs and the pink skin can easily be seen through his fur. Adderfang is quite the handsome fellow and he knows it hence his meticulous cleaning of his pelt. It's not for the she-cats though. It's only for himself. He only sets out to exceed his own expectations, and his appearance certainly reflects that.

Adderfang is a hard to like fellow. He borders on the antisocial side of things and has quite a few tendencies that could be considered downright sociopaths. This tom has a fine taste for violence and will never be found baking down from a fight. That being said he would never do anything to harm any of his clanmates, quite the opposite his clan is his world and he would gladly give his life to keep each and every resident of Stormclan safe, even those that he doesn't particularly like. Adderfang is a rather brave tom and certainly he has intelligence to spare. When Rowanstar chose him as the clans deputy nobody took much issue with it because one would be hard pressed to find a tom with more passion for his clan. As passionate as he is though he has quite a shortcoming when it comes to being kind or even remotely understanding of others.

Adderfang doesn't care much for the opinions of others though despite his borderline narcissism he is quite kind deep at heart. He doesn't particularly like opening up to anyone to getting to know him is rather difficult but if one takes the time to it certainly wouldn't be a waste of their time. He doesn't particularly like kits, or even apprentices for that matter, and finds both of them aggravating and tiring beyond words. Not surprisingly Adderfang has a short temper and it doesn't take a lot to get him angry and frustrated. Anger just happens to be one of the only emotions he ever shows apart from utter disdain. While he is an intelligent tom, Adderfang also can be quite idiotic in the matters of love and social interaction. His mother wasn't exactly a loving cat so he never had much practice to become friendly. Instead of "sugar-coating" a matter, he will bluntly tell it, not that he does often. Adderfang is often kept from being the bearer of bad news because he tends to make it worse.

➸ Otterpaw ➸ She Cat ➸ 8 Moons ➸ Apprentice ➸ Single ➸ Earthpowers

Otterpaw was born in the middle of a harsh leaf-bare, and is the only survivor of a litter of three. Due to her early birth, she will most likely always be small-framed and lithe, a form which compliments her bright green eyes. She has a curious pelt, with the main color being predominantly a white with overlaying patches of black, brown and orange. Due to this, many cats debated as to what power the young cat would grow up to, and she surprised quite a few Clanmates when she began discovering her element. Or rather elements as it were. Otterpaw holds the powers of fire, shadow and air in her paws.

That isn't the only trait that had puzzled her Clanmates before. From the moment Otterpaw discovered her power, she had always demonstrated an exceptional ability to smolder the grass around herself when in a foul mood. She struggles in other aspects that cats with her power should have, such as being able to levitate rocks. “Reserved, a trifle shy, yet feisty when provoked" will probably be a very suitable description befitting this young apprentice. Indeed, Otterpaw is a bit of an introvert when it comes to socializing, but she is still a very friendly she-cat who adores having fun and enjoys the company of others - provided that they come in small groups, of course.

[Copper]

ｄｏｇｓ

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♚
ＴＯＷＳＥＲ
unaltered male
four years
english pointer
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Brown flecks accent an otherwise white canvas of fur. He has a large brown splotch on his back and a near perfect brown circle on his rump. Towser also sports a brown head with a white dash running from his muzzle to his the base of his head. The brown splotches on his legs are very closely formed together so they look like they are constantly dirty. True to the Pointer form he is tall and lithe and has massive muscles allowing him to outrun many of the stockier dogs with ease. He sport a set of droopy jaws and ears and long white-tipped tail. Measuring 26 inches at the shoulders, he tips the scales at a formidable 83 pounds. Indeed a force to be reckoned with. Taozer's frame is built for speed so he excels in running and is quite a good jumper and can clear a 5 ft fence with ease if need be. His strong leg muscles also allow him to climb most chain-link fences so long as he gets a running start.
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Towser is fairly happy-go-lucky guy who doesn't particularly care who he's with or what he's doing at any given moment. Being a friendly, clownish dog by nature he has no comprehension of the word "shame". He loves his life and sees every new dog as a potential friend despite of where they came from or where they're headed. He can often be found rolling around with some of the younger dogs in the grass and playing foolish games, although he may seem immature he really is anything but. Certainly he is a mostly fun and games type of dog but being a Junkyard dog he knows when to be serious and when to slack off. Confident and the tiniest bit headstrong at times, he will put his paws down when things aren't going in a way he deems correct. Overall though he's a big teddy-bear and although he scoffs at the dogs when they pad after one-another like a bunch of lovestruck sparrows, he secretly wishes that someone would do that with him. That being said when there's a bird or small rodent around Towser suffers from selective listening skills as, true to his breed standard, he'll be in hunting mode and ignore anyone that was interacting with him.
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The fact that Towser is such a joyful animal is amazing when one considers his past. He was ripped his mother and siblings at a young age and was forced to live in an outside kennel with five large hounds. His owner Travii had bought him to use as a hunting dog and he treated him exactly like the older dogs he had, forgetting to fed him, beating him when he didn't listen well enough. The poor pup didn't know what was happening to him and his human, who he loved despite the beatings, didn't even give him a name. It was only after he ran away for the first time at the age of 1 that he found a homeless woman named Rose that christened him "Towser". He's been living in the city junkyard ever since.

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ＲＥＭＭＩＮＧＴＯＮ
unaltered male
two years
german shorthaired pointer / labrador mix
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Remmi is mostly brown, his fur the tone of an old leather jacket. A white chest and forepaws are the only accents of color in his coast and they too are heavily ticked with brown flecks. His stature takes after his mother and he is almost indistinguishable from a purebred pointer form-wise. Although his ears are more like his fathers and are a little on the small side compared to the way they should be and his paws may be just a tad bigger than he'd like them but overall he likes himself just fine and would likely be the fancy of some other dogs eye. Rounding out at 23 inches at the shoulder he's definably on the small and lithe side. Much of his body has a definable muscle mass so it's not surprising that he weighs between 50 and 60 pounds, give or take depending on what's on the dinner menu.
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Remmi is a pretty easy dog to read and understand. He's one of the most personable and outgoing dogs you could ever meet. Bubbly in nature he doesn't know the meaning of the word enemy and considers everyone a good friend. Not exactly the best quality for a streetdog but he's been managing to get by just fine. He is friendly and is the one that's always convincing others to go out and just make friends with every other dog in the area. It can get a bit boring almost, since he seems to be so hyper and excited at the worst times, which really angers others, but he doesn't seem to notice. Another part of him is his helpfulness. He's always willing to stick a paw in and give his opinion on a matter if he thinks it'll fix the situation at hand. Remmi is the one to comfort a dog first, giving them relief in the times of pain or loss. This means his loyalty levels are through the roof. Remmi is very loyal and sticks with you one hundred percent, even staying with you when it comes up to everyone being against you and your ideas. It's just a trait of him that can get a bit dangerous. Now for his biggest downfall; Remmi can be a bit too clingy. His energy and friendliness seems to combine into one form that ends in him sticking with you,even when you don't want him there. It really angers others, since he's so emotionally connected to another dog as if they were his littermate, and he suspects it is from his lack there of. The real reason is because of his deep seated fears that any dog he loves will leave or die, leaving him completely alone in the world once again.
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Prior to being rounded up by humans Remmi has lived his whole life as a streetdog. He's lived in the city and apart from a few run in's with some rather unfriendly rats has never killed anything, let alone killed anything and then eaten it. He's rather skilled in the art of garbage can tipping and can smell a two day old hamburger from a mile away. All of Remmi's family has long since left this earth. His mother Juniper died after being hit by a car while trying to cross a busy highway and he lost his father in a hunting accident. He thinks of his parents often,since he really was close with them, but he tries to push down the grief as much as he can. Love wise, he's never had any relationships, and not even crushes. Living on the street since he was a young pup has caused him to give up on the hope of ever finding a special dog to spend his life with and maybe raise a litter with.

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ＢＥＡＴＲＩＸ
unaltered female
three years
3rd generation labradoodle
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Light fawn colored specks dappled their way across Beatrix's white fur though they aren't too noticeable apart from on her ears that are clearly a shade darker than the rest of her. She has a mostly Poodle-like coat and due to lack of grooming it has become terribly overgrown despite of the homeless people she solicits food from attempting a lack-luster trim. At the moment she looks almost like a poodle with a bad case of mange. Despite her current situation, she tries to keep her coat silky and shiny by taking nightly baths in the fountain in the park with not much avail. She wears a pink collar made covered in fake diamonds, that was given to her in her last home. Being the way she is she tells everyone that they are real. At 83 pounds with a shoulder height of 25 inches, Beatrix is pretty much true to Labradoodle "standard"
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There are some dogs that are very easy to get along with. Beatrix isn't one of those dogs. She is rude, sarcastic, stuck up and just downright nasty. Worst of all she is a street dog that looks down upon other street dogs and that makes her hard to like for every-dog she comes in contact with. She lives in a fantasy world where she is still the pampered house-dog that she ones was and not the lost and forlorn street dog she has become. She still trots around town in such a manner that people could easily mistake her for one of the many mansions papered poochi-kins. Of course her shabby un-groomed coat give her away as a stray instantly and she suffers the indignity of being kicked out of shops and the park far to often. Though she is a yappy, complaint-filled little thing Beatrix is in reality utterly frightened and wants nothing more than a kind, and rich of course, person to scoop her up, take her home and treat her the way she wants to be treated. Despite that she pushes dogs away she is desperately longing for a friend to share her worries with and cuddle up next to during the cold nights. Beatrix doesn't enjoy mussing up her fur in the slightest so a simple stream or patch of dirt could easily be her downfall as she will refuse to cross it, hence limiting any possible "fun" activities. Being the stuck-up little thing she is, Beatrix is absolutely horrid at making any friends or holding any meaningful relationships. She also lacks a natural mothering-instinct so she tends to come off as a terrible spoiled little brat when she bares her teeth at young pups.
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Beatrix was born into she lap of luxury. Gemstone-covered dog bowls, weekly trips to the doggy spa and a closet filled to the brim with fancy clothes and collars. She lived in the high-class, fast lane and she was enjoying the ride ride. As it goes though, her ride on the easy highway of life came to an abrupt and shocking end. She didn't understand what the words "bankrupt" meant but she did understand that she was no longer receiving steak for dinner. Her loving owners moved to a small apartment but there was one problem. No dogs allowed. She ended up in the city pound and her yappy and stuck-up personality made her nearly unadoptable. Eventually a kindly old woman took her in and although they didn't have the riches that her original family possessed they spoiled her and she soaked up every-bit. Of course her wonderful life wasn't meant to last and the old woman died. When the paramedics came Beatrix slipped out the patio door. Ever since then she has been living on the streets and eventually wandered into the city-limits. Naturally, she hasn't accepted her role as a street dog and will deny living there talking instead of "living in that mansion on the hill". Sometimes living in fantasy is so much better than accepting the reality.

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ＬＥＯＮＩＤＡＳ
altered male
10 months
Boxer / Labrador Mix
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Leon is the epitome of Halloween. His orange coat makes him look like some kind of misshapen pumpkin. Small in stature and a long body that even a Basset Hound would envy he's certainly an interesting sight for the eyes. A white dash runs from his forehead and between his eyes meeting up with his full white muzzle. White tips on his tail and four feet accent his white chest and underbelly nicely.Leon wears a amber leather collar around his neck with his ID tags, and a shock collar that would ideally prevent him from climbing over (or digging under) the backyard fence. 23 inches at the shoulder and weighing 35 pounds Leon is still in that awkward size range where he's too big to be a lap dog but still small enough to get away with being one on occasion
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Leon is all-over-the-place crazy. He has bounds of high energy and no attention span to spare. His mind is as jumpy as his body forever giving the impression that his master lets him drink coffee. In reality Leon only has to speeds; 100 mph and naptime. Overall Leon is a friendly & rather bubbly dog so long as no dog is trying to dominate him. Happy smiles, and a wagging tail can melt away pretty quickly when that happens and he will turn into a little growly-pants. Leon is terribly cat friendly and even lives with one named Otto. Oftentimes the pair will hang around together though even Otto is rather ashamed of his housemate and will climb a few fences to avoid having to deal with him all day. Though Leon is a major klutz and has a brain that can't keep up with his mouth he tries really hard to keep everyone happy. He is after-all still pretty young at just about a year old, and still trying to break out of the "awkward juvenile" stage. Leon is as fast as his attention span is short. Sometimes he enjoys running just for the sake of it and once he gets started it could be potentially difficult to catch up to him. His shorter stature also enables him to squeeze under many of the town looser chain-link fences though he could just as easily jump over then if they weren't too tall. Anything below 5ft is easy stuff. Anything above it, not so much. Lack of attention span seems to be the most terrible problem of Leon's. He's just an all-around goof that doesn't take anything seriously and seems incapable of staying with one subject matter for more than .5 seconds. He's still rather young and also incredibly naive so he could be easily swayed to do something "bad" just due to doggy peer pressure.
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Born of a Labrador mother and sired by a Boxer, Leon is in all sense of the word a mutt. His siblings and him were born in a cool evening the previous October in a backyard. They grew up in that same cold backyard and at the age of 8 weeks they were separated and given away to whoever wanted them. Leon went to live with a family with three younger children. He was in pure puppy heaven and the family loved him dearly. Unfortunately, as it so often happens, cute puppies turn into unruly juveniles and suddenly jumping up and eating sneakers is no longer as adorable as it once was. Leon found himself dumped at the animal shelter. His family was upset and so was he. Leon languished for three months at the animal shelter till one day his current master, Piper adopted him. The pair were, and continue, to be constantly at odds. Leon having no training whatsoever leaves an endless trail of destruction and mayhem wherever he goes, and Piper refuses to give up on him and return him to the shelter from which he came. Hopefully with age will come wisdom and Leon will learn that he can't keep doing what he's doing, otherwise someday he may well end up at the shelter again. A problem dog doomed to forever be someone else's problem.

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ＴＲＩＴＯＮ ＶＯＮ ＨＡＭＭＥＬ
unaltered male
6 years
belgian malinois
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Triton is a stunning male, almost a breathtaking sight. This muscles are hard to overlook beneath light tan coat causing him to look just as threatening as he really is. A jet-black muzzle is accented by and equally black nose and glistening white teeth. Though Triton is missing his left front leg is isn't necessarily the first thing you are apt to notice about him. His large-formed ears stand like two black pillars against the sky making him look like he might have been some sort of rabbit in a previous life. Triton wears a thick black leather collar around his neck and a metal chain from which his old K9 Officer badge hangs. Standing 28 inches at the shoulder and weighting a light 73 pounds he's easily underestimated., one must remember that most of his weight is pure muscle.
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Triton is all work a no play. Ever since his injury and ensuing retirement from police work he's found countless other ways to keep himself occupied. He walks his master's son, Jason to school every morning, diligently keeping him safe from any harm. Throughout the day he wanders the street helping those in need of assistance and fixing anything he deems not to be "up to code". In the afternoon, like clockwork he's back the elementary school to walk Jason back home. During the night he lays on the back-porch protecting the house and bakery from any wandering hooligans and cats. Though Triton may seem cold and slightly full of himself he's not. Blunt and short-winded answers are his specialty and emotions are rarely ever shown unless anger is involved. Secretly he wishes to someday find a mate, preferably of pedigree, to settle down with. He's fathered many pups in his time but never got to know any of them or watch them grown up and he solely regrets that. Triton is the epitome of strength, his years on the police form aiding him greatly in that area. Though he's been retired for the past 10 months his muscles still ripple with every step. His master finds it extraordinary that he's almost as strong on three legs as he was on four. Him and his master go for routine jogs around town most mornings and he certainly has not trouble keeping up. Since Triton only has three legs his jumping and running ability isn't what it used to be. He's not slow by any means but there are certainly dogs that can easily outdo him in that regard. Triton greatly dislikes cats and much to his families dismay he will chase them, or worse, if given the chance. Though Triton is retired he refuses to take a day off. He spends much time "fulfilling his duty" by protecting his boy, and helping those in need of any assistance he thinks they may need.
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Triton's story is one riddled with great feats. Sired by the great Hammel Triton and his litter-mates were destined for greatness within the ranks of the police force. Starting at a young age Triton started cross training in Narcotics and Human Scent Detection. As he grew he became one of the police force's top K9 officers him and his human partner, James were charged with saving countless lives and removing tons upon tons of drugs from the streets of Charming. By the time Triton was three he had won countless medals of bravery and had even attended a special banquet in his honor at mayor Charming's estate. Life seemed perfect and Triton thought it would always remain so. Unfortunately things changed, as they quite often do, one dark and snowy night in December. On Christmas Eve the year prior, Triton and James were out of patrol. They responded to a call of domestic violence in the Kings Court Trailer Park. Arriving on the scene they found a terrible sight. James attempted to subdue a man and he pulled out a gun. Triton sprang into action and disarmed the man, but it was too late. James had been shot and Triton hesitated for a moment as he looked after his partner. The man got in a car and Triton, trying to stop him, got caught in the mayhem. Him and James were both rushed to the ER. One to the Hospital and one to the Veterinarian. Both Triton and James survived but wore the scars of that night. Triton lost his right left leg and after months of recovery learned to cope without it. Once James had recovered, Triton went to live with him at his house. He was forced to retire from the force, but you know what they say. You can take the dog out of the force but you can't take the force out of the dog. Triton still patrols the street and does his best to keep the town safe from any harm.

[Copper]

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Hawk is a canvas of color. A Red Wolf of the Highest caliber. This fur is a pattern of Roan, Brown and Black, tinged with some white throughout, almost as if he has a pelt speckled with flurries of snow. Like all wolves, he has a thick pelt that protects him from any element that he might be in, though he's miserable in the heat and much prefers to laze around in the water when the temperatures rise. His eyes are the deepest of brown and it's hard not to look away when they stay on you for more than a few seconds.

At first glance, Hawk seems cold and aloof, not wanting to get too close to the other wolces around him. He, in fact, will not open up to others, even if they become very close to him, and will immediately change the topic when the conversation is directed at him. Become too pushy, and this Brute will simply leave your side and find another companion. His trust is hard to gain and very easy to lose. Get close enough to this male, however, and you'll break into his core. To those he knows well, Hawk tries to be somewhat of a comedian, though his intellectual jokes often go over others heads and he finds himself laughing at himself the majority of the time. He loves conversing with others, but is just as content lying stretched out in the grass while running his thoughts through his own head. If you hadn't guessed it, Hawk is an extremely hard worker. When on the job, he has an incredible focus and will work until the task at hand is complete before moving on to the next one. This is a Wolf that is always on time and scolds those that are late or that laze around when they should be working. There is a time for fun, but when there's something to be done, Hawk turns into an almost aggressive Brute, commanding it get done before anyone take time to lay around or converse with each other. He's extremely motivated and doesn't like to wait around for others to step up with him. Despite all of his, Hawk is a good listener and does care about the wolves he's around. He's very patient with them if they show kindness toward him, and he'll do anything to help them along. He always has a shoulder to lean on, and though he might not be able to understand what you're going through, he'll stand there with you through thick and thin. Stoic and courageous, he is often seen from afar, making sure that nothing is approaching that would harm the pack he has gotten so close to. It's hard to get him riled up, but beware if that's what you've set out to do. While he's very forgiving once everything is said and done, Hawk has a hard time stepping back until the thing that has attacked him is dead.

Hawkwing was the last-born in a litter of four, he was the smallest, the runt. Though he was the only one that looked like a mirror image of his Alpha father he was the least respected. Born in a litter that was the pride and joy of the Crescent Moon Pack he was an un-welcomed burden. He grew up watching as he sibling were loved and pampered. Envy and anger filled his heart turning it to stone. During the summer of Hawkwing's birth a wildfire raged through the pack's territory, claiming the lives of many of the packmemebers that scorned the young pup who's only fault was being born a little small. As ash covered the land Hawkwing, his father and the four surviving members of the pack tried to rebuild their lives by moving to a new land. The only surviving pup of the two Alpha's ambition blazed in Hawkwing's eyes with each and every pawstep he took. His father who had treated him with ignorance in the past now put his remaining energy into making him a powerful and feared leader. His training was strict and harsh but he rose above it and became a very powerful and talented warrior. His smaller size became a benefit as it enabled him to be much faster than some of his larger packmembers. As the seasons wore on a started to edge it's way to the second summer of Hawkwing's life he was suddenly separated from his pack,the worst drought that the Balkan Forest had ever experienced reached it's peak as fire ravaged the land. As the flames burned around them Hawkwing and his pack raced to the safety of the high mountains. He was separated from his family and it is yet unknown if they perished or are still alive.

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Fenris's ashen pelt clings tightly to his boney frame making the small wolf seem even smaller, his torso is skinny from lack of nourishment, and all of that is perched upon four spindly twig like legs. Though his auburn fur is thick it is bedraggled and scraggily from lack of care. His eyes are such a deep shade of brown they are sometimes mistaken for black. Fenris has a stripe of cream fur that starts under his chin and travels down to his chest. The same off-white color surrounds his paws. The rest of his fur is a Dark Grey color. The brute's muzzle is thin an long compared to most most wolves, just like all the other parts of his body.

Distant is the best word to describe this lonely wolf. He has never and will never allow himself to get too close to another wolf. To care for another wolf would be everything he is not. Not that Fenris wishes harm upon others. No, that isn't him either. It's more like he just doesn't care at all. His emotions are limited and he never, ever displays them for the world to see. His heart is cold and he does not seek companionship. All of these traits are driven from his inner loneliness. He has never had a companion or a friend and that has left him a shell. A shell that cares for nothing- including himself. Life means little to this wolf. He doesn't see why they even bother their struggle for life. It's a miracle (or a waste) that he has made it this far. Perhaps some day someone will teach him the value of his precious gift; survival. Then again, some one who doesn't want to learn won't. There is no way to change that. Perhaps this wolf is a lost cause. Then again even the scrappiest of wolves can be taught to love if only one shows them the way. That really is all that Fenris needs: love.

Fenris's life has been one of solitude. Never has he had a friend, a lover, or even just a companion. Born to an omega, Fenris had no choice but to be hidden by his mother. The alpha of his pack was cruel and would not accept the forbidden pup among his ranks. No, in the alpha's opinion the only thing good enough for the omega's pups was death. So his mother hid herself and her pups away. She did a surprisingly good job, but blissful peace would not last for long. Fenris and three other pups were growing strong under the wanted omega's care. They were about four months old when some members from the pack bust through their shelter. There mother was the only one raising them as their father was a lone wolf. Though the omega fought valiantly the fighters over took her and killed her in front of her pup's very eyes. As the murders turned towards the pups the siblings fled, terror written across their faces. Luckily for the pups their mother had wounded the members from the pack. One of these wolves was blinded and the other was bleeding heavily from various wounds. They could not pursue the small fleeing forms. Even though Fenris was bonded with his litter mates they weren't exactly best friends. Eventually his littermates had had enough of him and they went their separate ways shortly before they turned a year. Fenris quickly became depressed from lack of socialization. On his own he was incapable of taking down larger game. Instead he resorted to small prey for nourishment. In the cold of winter there wasn't enough though. Month after month passed by with out contact with a single wolf. When Fenris was a year and four months old he finally met another wolf. This wolf was old a battle scarred fighter who had no intent of being friendly with the loner he had come across. Yet again he was being driven away from his home. As he traveled the same ting happened many times. Fenris would settle down, just to be uprooted by another wolf. It soon became apparent that he was to wander alone for all his days. If that first winter was hard, Fenris's second was even worse. That was when it began: the starvation, the fire, the flooding, the shaking. Somehow Fenris is hoping to survive to next winter, even if he has to do so with the aid of others.

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Twigleg, who got his name from his long, twig-like legs, spends much of his time living in a world of what-ifs. Due to transgressions of the past he now aims to treat everywolf how he would want them to treat him. He wants nothing more than to be treated with respect and kindness so those are qualities you can always find in him. Twigleg tragically lost the ability to speak (and much of the fur on his tail) in a fire a few seasons ago. So above all else he is a quite wolf, making him not so much of a hit with the ladies. Though he was forced into the Omega position long ago he still longs to hunt and patrol the territory and want often be found out at night, when much of the pack in asleep, on his own private hunting patrol. He has a special love for the antics of young pups and will happily watch over them while the rest of the pack is off attending to more important matters. If he could talk he would be able to tell the young ones wonderful stories and tall-tales, but he must be content in etching pictures into the soft earth with his claws.

Twigleg was born the only surviving pup of his mother, Springflower's, three litters. Though he was born into a pack where no wolf except the Alphas were allowed to bear pup's his mother, a mere Omega, was granted a reprieve. Legend has it that is was because she mated with the Alpha Male Nightstep. Though Nightstep never said anything on the matter his mother had quite a bit to say of it. Naturally Twigleg grew up without a firm father figure but spent much of his time admiring Nightstep. He dreamed of someday being Alpha of his own pack and trained exceptionally hard as a yearling and was well on his way to becoming a grand hunter and fighter. Throughout his training Twigleg learned that he had quite the talent for healing. This did not go overlooked and he was removed from Warrior training and forced to train as a medic. When Nightstep's mate bore him a litter the young Twigleg saw them as immediate competition and regarded all of them harshly.

When a fire raged through the packs territory many wolves were trapped in underground dens with no route of escape. Twigleg, who was a mere two autumns old charged through the burning entrance of the Alpha den to rescue the young pups he had envied for so many moons. He grabbed the two strongest males leaving the runt of the litter, Hawkwing, behind pleading for his help. By the time Twigleg reached the fresh outside air he realized that both pups where hanging limply in his jaws. He tried to call out for the help of the packs Medic but his throat burned with each word he tried to say. As the moons passed on Twigleg realized that he had risked his life and ability to speak for pups that never even had the chance to thank him for it. The pup he had left to die had been saved by another member of the pack and as he grew into a young wolf he took much of his anger out on Twigleg. By the time that young Hawkwing became Alpha of the pack, Twigleg had long since been demoted to Omega.