Out of Character

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Edraia --
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Thu Oct 01, 2015 2:34 pm --
Tue Mar 08, 2016 2:59 am

In Character

Male 01 Mar 2014
Northeastern Coyote(highly hybridized) Verto
Clockwork is of a short sort, even for his mixed coyote heritage. Standing only 5'5' in Optime form and a scant 110lb, his frame is lean without being emaciated. In lupus form he looks like an average, if slightly small, specimen of his species. His coat is a warm gray that fades towards a creamy tan and white at his face and chest. The darker top line sports a number of silvery hairs that give him a grizzled appearance. Each large ear is backed in his darkest gray while the interior sports pale golden hair. Each eye is underlined in white and each eyebrow has an oval spot in the same pale shade.

While in Optime form(which he spends most of his time in), his hair is soft and thick. The long strands on the back of his neck have been pulled up into a sloppy bun while the bangs have been chopped in rough layers that sweep over his face and cheeks. A feral background has led him to sit and crouch in an animalistic way, though he walks mostly upright as he finds it easier to balance this way.

Fond of wearing accessories and deeply interested in body modification, he has cut stylized holes and notches in both ears, the former often being fitted with trinkets.
Creative • Loyal • Soft-Hearted • Head-in-the-Clouds • Just • Feminine • Fear of Deep Water

Creative: Clockwork was always an artistic sort, often creating things for his own enjoyment and to give as gifts, using whatever he had at his disposal to craft. Most of his crafts are decorative in nature, particularly jewelry though he has been known to work hide and has an interest in learning more.

Loyal: Though not immediately trusting of others, he can be loyal almost to a fault, it takes a great deal to cause Clockwork to abandon a person or a cause he's chosen to follow.

Soft-Hearted: Clockwork is incredibly practical when it comes to doing what needs to be done, but whenever possible his desire is to spare anything from suffering. His kills are quick, clean, and only through necessity. Likewise, he makes every attempt to avoid permanently harming plant life or even inanimate objects.

Head-in-the-Clouds: He's in desperate need of something to ground and focus him. Clockwork is a dreamer and stargazer who often finds himself distracted from his tasks with daydreaming. He knows they're just dreams but he indulges them all the same.

Fair: Clockwork is good at keeping a level head during disputes and judgments, often able to see both sides of a situation. This is particularly handling when settling spats between pups.

Feminine: Though genetically and mentally male, Clockwork tends to slip into feminine roles habitually and sees nothing wrong with being effeminate.

Fear of Deep Water: A swim that nearly killed him(see biography), has caused a not completely irrational fear of deep water. Clockwork will hesitate to swim in water that he can't see the bottom of or touch his feet in. Likewise, he has a fear of boats.
Clockwork was born into a small, familial pack that roamed the border between what had once been Canada and Michigan, holding onto a small but well sustained territory. The entirety of their small pack were non-Luperci and most were Eastern Coyotes, genetically a mix of coyote, wolf, and dog.

Due to the fertile lands, prey was abundant and the pack thrived and grew and so did the amount of territory they needed and could patrol. Perhaps this would not have been a problem but for a wolf pack that held territory to their North. A bitter rivalry sprang up and there were a number of small skirmishes that continued on for months. No one was willing to speak of a peace, so Clockwork did as he was bid and he abandoned his crafting to learn to sink his teeth into canine flesh.

A short respite came in the form of a couple months of uneasy peace. It had seemed that their rivals were contenting themselves with a smaller piece of land. Instead,the northern pack of wolves had added a few oucasts to their ranks and a new regime was in control. The outcasts had been Luperci and their weapons outmatched the wolves.

Soon the attacks came back with a vengeance. No longer content with wounding, they began overwhelming and killing small patrols as they marked borders, the conquest shooting like an arrow to the heart of the Pack's land and attacking the home dens themselves. Matched against Luperci weaponry and savage wolves, the smaller pack was forced to concede and allow themselves to be swallowed up or die resisting.

Each of them chose to live, accepting their lot in a new pack. The new Alpha was a brutish wolfdog Luperci who decreed that everyone in his pack would be infected without debate. The women were forcibly bred and the males were given savage bites that were then slathered with Luperci blood. Many of the old members slipped away whenever possible. Nearly all were caught within the day but sometimes one would never be found.

It was enough to give Clockwork hope and so he fled in the night through a route he knew well, making south for the Great Lake. The trackers were on his trail quickly and when he encountered the shoreline, he plunged into the cold waters and swam, more afraid of being caught than of drowning or dying of exposure.

As the shore disappeared behind him and the horizon continued show only murky waves his endurance began to fail him. A felled tree floated upright in the deep waters but the water worn wood was as smooth and hard as and iron rod. Submerged branches only tangled his tired, canine legs and he found his hope of salvation slipping away.

Ironically, the unwanted gift of the Luperci was the only thing that saved him. With his reserves empty, he hadn't the strength to resist the change and so he let it happen. His forepaws grew fingers and he found he could grab the floating trunk with the dexterous additions. By the hour's end he had shimmied his way up the trunk like a bear until his weight forced the tree to float horizontally on the waves like a canoe.

Lost, but safe from drowning, he let the August sun dry his pelt while he took a brief nap, his legs and tail dragging in the water as his new craft drifted where it would. The sun rode a bit lower in the sky as he roused himself and took stock of his situation. To the East he saw a brown band where the sky met the water. Using his new hands and feet, he paddled the log for two days until the water was shallow enough for him to wade to shore. He only paused long enough to break a piece of his bleached savior off to carry with him for luck.
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