1. Name: It's in hueg red letters right above this. ;D
2. Birthdate: October 21, 2002
3. Luperci Luperciiiii ortuuuuus~
4. Species: > 95% canis lupus communis, < 5% canis lupus familiaris
5. Gender: ALL MALE BB
6. Contact: all on profile :|
7. How you found 'Souls: I LOVE ANSWERING THIS QUESTION. IT CAME TO ME IN A DREAM. Or a psychotic episode. ONE OF THE TWO, anymore it's impossible to tell them apart. ;D
& Liliya Russo, his daughter, is also joining as his NPC. :o
1. Name: Liliya Russo
2. Birthdate: October 2, 2008
3. Luperci Ortus
4. Species: > 50% canis lupus communis, < 5% canis lupus familiaris, 50% canis latrans
5. Gender: Female
Also, Anatoliy will be replying right after me, so please hold off on replying until heem?
The silver-furred werewolf had packed up most of his possessions; what they were not bringing to Cour des Miracles, they had put back into the ship. The seafaring vessel —Rurik had named her The Syemv II, of course—had been dragged into an abandoned warehouse with the roof mostly still intact; Rurik hoped that his boat would not be dashed to pieces for the weather. Though he was headed to Cour des Miracles to join up with their ranks, the silvery Russian wolf knew he wouldn't stick around forever. Eventually, Sobirat'sya would come calling again, and he would have to head back. For now, though, the werewolf was quite willing to throw his hand in with the pack and help out where necessary. Strelein's tour of the Miracles packland had pretty much sealed the deal; with the Shattered Coast serving as their primary homeland, Rurik saw no other place he'd rather go.
Phoenix Valley had been nice, too, but it was his friendship with Strel that had pushed him to join up with this bunch. He didn't know it, but Rurik fit in quite well with these settings. Hoisting a bag full of his things over his shoulder, the werewolf turned his head back to his children for a moment, grinning at grumpy Liliya and baffled Anatoliy. They would be safer here, it would be better for them—while Silas learned how the coyotes lived, his other children would come and stay with him here, and they would learn how wolves lived in packs. It was valuable experience for them, and the silver-furred werewolf himself was itchy to get into more social surroundings. It was good living with the children alone, but now it was time to move it along. Liliya tagged along behind him somewhere, walking next to Anatoliy, though she only occasionally whined to complain that what she carried was too heavy for her.
They had enough stuff, anyway—though of course Rurik had left some things that were not so easily transportable behind, Rurik and Liliy each carried two large sacks of stuff, mostly filled with cleaned and washed cooking apparel. They had a few bottles of liquor in different bags to keep them from smashing, but most of it Rurik had locked up aboard the ship, hoping the meager defenses were enough to keep out would-be scavengers. It wasn't as if he wasn't going to return there, anyway—he planned to eventually move everything that wasn't tacked down onboard the ship to Cour des Miracles. It would have to happen slowly, though, since Rurik had no wagons or horses. He'd heard they had stables here, though, and he was eager to meet some of the equines—he was hopeful there was a generic pack horse that was free to ride, or otherwise made a friend with a horse to borrow. He had never owned one himself, but some of Sobirat'sya had heavy draft-type horses, and they were common with the gypsies he'd lives with. When one's whole life had to be mobile, a horse was a very good thing. He stopped on the border, gently setting down his things. “Careful now,” he warned his children regarding the satchels.
“I'll howl for someone,” he said merrily, tossing his head back and letting out a rather loud, low howl. It was short as far as howls went, but loud, as he figured the city was probably not a direction new members arrived from often. “Geez, Dad, Вы пытаетесь сломить их чертова барабанные перепонки?” she asked grumpily, in Russian for the benefit of Anatoliy.
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