Character Birthdate (including year): October 13, 2008

Species: Grey Wolf

Gender: Male

Preferred Ark Rank: Painting

A Secondary Form of Contact: aim: Werewolfblight msn: Werewolfblight@hotmail.com

Currently Played Characters: Moth Lockhart

How You Found 'Souls: Shaw got me here. :>

Initial Post:

Moth looked over his shoulder with a low whine. He did this often, just looking back as if she had been following behind him this entire time, only to be disappointed with reality once again. It'd been maybe seven months now since she passed? Leaving him alone in a strange land. Although born to a packless mother, she had taught him much of the ways of her kind the best she could. He wasn't ignorant, but nor was he educated. He was a rocky medium. Together they had met other packs on their way from the highlands of Scotland but mother always chose to keep them moving towards Nova Scotia. Where father was. Or so they had thought.

Life on one's own was extremely dangerous Moth had found out. Even at two years old he was hardly a match for anyone. He was rather small, and more often than not preferred running away from a problem than facing it. He'd already run into plenty of trouble in his travels and was keen on not adding another souvenir to his hide. Since his mother's death he'd already run across several pack territories, but too timid to speak to anyone he had simply passed on by quietly. He could now smell a new scent, another pack's lands lay just before him. He made up his mind after some time, deciding to just keep his dusty colored hide right where it was and silently hope for the best.

Thanks.

If Moth sat any more still than he already was, someone could probably mistake him for a large oddly shaped stone. The dusty color of his fur didn't help his case all that much. Every bit of noise made his heart stop. Though he had decided to park his hide and wait for someone to spot him, he doubted his decision with each passing moment. He wanted to go, just keep on moving in hopes of something he didn't even know. But then again he also didn't want to keep wandering aimlessly and completely alone where anything would find him as prey. He inherited that from his mother he figured, she was rather small compared to others they had passed, but she had a bit of a fiery streak if provoked. He lacked that it seemed.

Moth had been focusing all his attention on a single leaf, following its contours with his eyes, its veins when he heard something off in the distance. Someone was drawing near, he perked up, and they were playing an instrument it seemed. Part of him hoped they would pass by without noticing him, but part of him also hoped they would see him. The sounds drew closer, then suddenly he could hear their steps becoming quicker. It wasn't long until he saw someone coming right at him. Moth shifted nervously where he was, automatically withdrawing into himself, not only because mother has taught him to, but also because he was terrified. It took everything in him to utter anything at all.

"...H-'ello, sir." he mumbled, looking for that elusive thing called courage, all the while avoiding any eye contact. "Me name is M-moth. M-moth Lockhart. I'm a wee bit lost in these parts, but I was h-hoping...I know very little of these lands I mean to say."

His gold eyes focused on anything but Shawchert, "I was h-hoping I could find someplace to stay I mean. I..." he trailed off. He really wasn't good at this. There was a good reason why he avoided others. This entire situation was a pretty good example.

out of character text

That leaf he'd been inspecting earlier quickly became Moth's best friend in the whole world right now. Shawchert was massive compared to him, although he seemed to be a good soul from first impressions. His tone helped Moth's nerves slightly, but it was hardly noticeable. However the entire time he remained withdrawn, shifting his paws now and then.

His golden gaze shifted from his little green friend to a stone on the other side of Shawchert when he spoke. It took him a moment, what could he offer the pack? His size and slight build was little use he figured. He could hunt, but again he wasn't much use there. Moth's gaze touched momentarily on the flute about Shawchert's neck.

“I can paint?” he muttered. “A-and draw. Well, nothin' special. I m-mean. I can mix pigments and such as well? H-honey works well for a medium...”

MORE WORK FOR YOU SHAW.

Moth shuffled a bit. He had been slightly taken aback by this stranger's kindness. Many of the packs and others he had run across before were usually slightly hostile. It was nice to see such a warm soul, even though he must've been at least twice Moth's size. Or maybe he was exaggerating, at any rate it was strange, but appreciated.

He looked up for a second, not at Shawchert's eyes but his outstretched hand waving towards the forest. Really? Just like that? Moth looked out into the forest, terrified, yet slightly excited. His ears perked a bit at the thought of having someplace to belong. He turned to Shawchert, lowering his head giving a short sweeping bow. "T-thank ye. And I'd very m-much like some guidance."

"I-I can hunt. N-nothin' big, b-because I'm a wee bit small. Size mae benefit a scout." he paused for a moment, mulling things over. "I-I be willin' to learn anything to help out." He had gotten good at catching small prey, but anything large he simply didn't have the skill or power to take down. In his travels he'd learned to tread quietly, especially since he'd been moving on his own. He passed many territories quietly. If this pack was so generous to keep a scrawny thing like him around he'd sure try to make some use of himself..

out of character text

The scrawny wolf listened intently taking his first steps forward into the forest with Shawchert. He wasn't sure where they were heading yet, but he was excited to find out. It would be good to get a feel of the town. He'd have to make mental notes of things as they went. From what the large one beside him was saying it seemed that the pack owned quite a bit of land. Which made him wonder just how many pack members there were. From the sounds of it a decent number.

Moth gave a light smile at Shawchert's comments, minuscule, but probably the first to cross his lips in a long time. "I be willin' to learn." He commented, trying to mind his accent. "I-I prefer the oils meself. The long drying time is nice. I-it can be tempermental, but it be pretty forgivin'."

Moth's eyes touched on the instrument around Shawchert's neck, "Ye a musician then?." He regretted the question a bit, it was an obvious one. He had heard the wolf playing the instrument before he met him. After a moment pause he tried to correct himself, "I-I mean to say--How long ye been at that? Are there others that play similiar here?"

Rah rah, ah ah ah...yeah I have it stuck in my head.

Moth kept his eyes mostly on the ground ahead of him as he walked. He hoped the other members were as kind as Shawchert. He probably wouldn't meet many if any of them. Being shy and all, but if he did he hoped them to be as nice as the one beside him. When Shawchert mentioned his mother taught him, Moth couldn't help but think of his own mother. He did his best to not look over his shoulder as he had a habit of doing.

"I-I heard ye. In the w-woods before. Ye play well." Moth had tried to carve something once when he was a pup, it had been hard and he gave up fast. So naturally he was slightly awed that the beautiful thing about Shawchert's neck was handcarved by himself. From what the large one said it seemed that the group living here was pretty diverse. Moth smiled quietly to himself, catching the smile on Shawchert's face, he wasn't good with expressions, but he knew that one.

"O-originally? From tae Heelands of Scotland." His accent came through a bit too much on that one. He had to work on that. From the few he had talked to in his travel with his mother others seemed to have difficulty understanding him if he had a thick accent. "Workin' on gettin' rid o the accent. S-sorry. The highlands of Scotland." He repeated a bit more clearly.