Post by johnny on Jul 30, 2008 12:13:23 GMT -5
THE BASICS
Name: Bide
Age: Adult; probably about three years of age.
Gender: Female
Species: Wolf
Appearance: She's average in size and shape, though her body is thinner and more closely resembles a Red Wolf rather than the Timber wolf that she is. Her legs are also thinner and just a fraction longer, but overall she's plain and unremarkable. Her markings and coat colouring are completely ordinary - black, grey, and brown base coat with a white underbelly and tail. Her coat is shaggy and somewhat disheveled-looking in hotter months but grows thicker and more aesthetically pleasing when the weather cools. Possibly the only aspect of her physical appearance that stands out is her eyes, which are a bright, almost luminous gold-yellow.
THE CHANGES
Magic: None.
Alliance: Ancestral
Accessories: None.
INSIDE
Personality: She seems to have a surplus of love to spare, and she has an especially soft spot in her heart for pups. Even still, she's likely to take in and care for any wolf - regardless of age - that needs adequate attention. She has an undying, somewhat naive belief that everyone has a touch of good in them that, if properly tapped, could change a canine for the better. Bide doesn't like to fight, so she's unpracticed in the task, and when faced with a foe she is more likely to run than to oppose them - that is, of course, only if it's herself she's fighting for. For being a wolf, Bide has an incredibly large "Mother Bear" complex, and if a loved one is threatened she becomes a force to be reckoned with, simply out of sheer adrenaline and anger.
Strengths:
- Fast.
- Intelligent, at least as far as giving care to others goes.
- Good "motherly" figure.
- Protective, noble morals.
- Genuine.
Weaknesses:
- She can be a bit naive and a little too trusting of others.
- Easily swayed by a well-organized argument.
- She isn't the greatest fighter.
- Overprotective, which tends to grate on the nerves of more independent-personality canines.
- Has a weakness for anyone in need. It's almost as if she can't not help another who needs her help.
Personal Goals: Join a pack in which she can still have pups of her own, or else become an alpha.
History: In spite of her young age, Bide had always been the mothering type - as head "babysitter" for her former pack, she took great pride in raising and watching over the youngsters, but a yearning for pups of her own drove her to seek out her own pack in which she would have permission to breed. She left with the well-wishes of her Alphas, on the condition that her future territory was far enough away so as not to infringe on the established grounds of the pack. So Bide started walking.
She continued walking, and walking, careful not to wander into any foreign packlands and anger any volatile alphas, until she finally reached the "free" lands, where she knew she could eventually find a mate, claim some territory, and have the family she'd always dreamed of. She knew she had the honorable strength it took to be a good alpha, even if she didn't necessarily have the strength and fighting ability, and so she settled into a routine of searching for lands and wolves to interact with, grow friendships with, and care for.
Roleplay Sample:
Bide pawed at the pile of leaves and forest detritus stubbornly - she knew the vole had gone in here, so how was it that the small creature had disappeared? There didn't even seem to be a hole, just... nothing, completely absent of any sign that a little rodent had burrowed through, or even of any sign that the little rodent existed. Bid was getting hungry enough to believe that, perhaps, she'd hallucinated it - all signs pointed to the potential prey being a hopeful figment of her imagination. She sighed contemptuously at the turn her journey had taken after starting out so well - she hadn't eaten in days, and she seemed completely incapable of catching the sparse amount of prey she did happen to come across.
This worried her greatly - how could a wolf that (she felt) was destined to be a fantastic mother possibly care for her pups if she couldn't even care for herself? It was preposterous and ludicrous and she really, really needed to overcome whatever issues she was having. Perfectionism wasn't a personality quirk that Bide had - anyone who spent a majority of their time caring for pups couldn't survive with a perfectionist streak - but in the case of hunting and catching prey, she decided that the idea "practice makes perfect" should be put into play immediately.
She sat back, listening to the forest around her. She could hear the crackle of leaves caused by the wind, steady and brief, but also she could hear a less steady, almost frantic second crackle that was clearly a small animal running and stopping periodically in order to throw off predators. Ironic, considering that the stop-and-start non-pattern actually alerted the only visible predator in the area.
Bide lifted her head and caught the scent trail of a squirrel. It only took her a second to catch sight of it, standing in the center between two trees, digging with frenzied gusto at the ground where presumably a nut or seed was buried. She would have to be quick - once the squirrel got up either tree, it would be completely impossible to catch.
Standing slowly, the female wolf crouched down low - low enough to seem harmless to the squirrel, but high enough to keep her underbelly from touching the leaves below her and causing unnecessary noise and alerting the rodent to her presence. She moved slowly and deliberately, pressing one paw to the ground completely before lifting the other, one after the other, for what felt like forever to Bide's hunger-addled mind. In a perfect world, she could simply lunge carelessly at the little beast and have a nice early-morning meal... But, then again, in a perfect world she wouldn't have been hungry.
Finally, it seemed like the time was right for Bide to move in for the attack. Her muscles tensed, her hackles raised, and she launched herself at the squirrel...
Which, fast as lightening, scurried halfway up the tree to its left and clung there on the wide trunk, barking in a half-mad, half-mocking way that made Bide sigh.
Practice made perfect. She would just have to practice some more.
Other:
