09-11-2011, 08:37 PM
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Gender: Male.
Age: 2 years.
Preferred Rank: Traditional (wood sculptor)
Currently Played Characters: None.
Initial Post:
His eyes focused on the looming tree in the distance. The young Luperci raised his muzzle up, breathing in the scents of fellow canines. A pack. Perhaps this was the pack a trader had told him of. Just a few days ago, Loviere had been attempting to trade one of his wooden miniatures with a passing loner. The stranger had no use for any of his artwork, but had suggested that Loviere seek out Cercatori d'Arte, a pack known for its artistic appreciation. Intrigued, Loviere had set out immediately for the place. He limped along, his tan lupus body hopping up and down clumsily as he moved. A makeshift belt of sharpened rocks and wooden sculptures hung from his side. It might have been easier for other Luperci to travel in Optime form, but Loviere was at one disadvantage. His right leg was deformed, turned at a strange outward angle since birth. Despite its inconveniences, Loviere preferred his lupus form.
"Oct, not much further, mate. Don't you worry, brother, I doubt these chaps'll care much for the taste of scrawny coons." With his gentle drawl, Loviere addressed his longtime traveling companion. In his short life, Loviere had been introduced to many different dialects and accents. His voice was a combination of the many creatures he had learned from. The bulky cream wolf tilted his head toward the young raccoon, who trundled along beside him. The creature acknowledged the wolf with a chattery sound and a wink and he slowed to walk behind Loviere.
Soft brown eyes danced at the thought of a home, of a potential family. Two loners had given birth to Loviere and a life of solitude was not one that he cared for, not any longer. The half tundra, half timber wolf hummed a soft melody to himself and his friend as they moved forward. At the crescendo of the tune, he let out a joyful howl to alert any nearby pack members of his presence. In front of the tree, Loviere laid out his sculptures and prepared to use his best manners for the inevitable confrontation.
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Gender: Male.
Age: 2 years.
Preferred Rank: Traditional (wood sculptor)
Currently Played Characters: None.
Initial Post:
His eyes focused on the looming tree in the distance. The young Luperci raised his muzzle up, breathing in the scents of fellow canines. A pack. Perhaps this was the pack a trader had told him of. Just a few days ago, Loviere had been attempting to trade one of his wooden miniatures with a passing loner. The stranger had no use for any of his artwork, but had suggested that Loviere seek out Cercatori d'Arte, a pack known for its artistic appreciation. Intrigued, Loviere had set out immediately for the place. He limped along, his tan lupus body hopping up and down clumsily as he moved. A makeshift belt of sharpened rocks and wooden sculptures hung from his side. It might have been easier for other Luperci to travel in Optime form, but Loviere was at one disadvantage. His right leg was deformed, turned at a strange outward angle since birth. Despite its inconveniences, Loviere preferred his lupus form.
"Oct, not much further, mate. Don't you worry, brother, I doubt these chaps'll care much for the taste of scrawny coons." With his gentle drawl, Loviere addressed his longtime traveling companion. In his short life, Loviere had been introduced to many different dialects and accents. His voice was a combination of the many creatures he had learned from. The bulky cream wolf tilted his head toward the young raccoon, who trundled along beside him. The creature acknowledged the wolf with a chattery sound and a wink and he slowed to walk behind Loviere.
Soft brown eyes danced at the thought of a home, of a potential family. Two loners had given birth to Loviere and a life of solitude was not one that he cared for, not any longer. The half tundra, half timber wolf hummed a soft melody to himself and his friend as they moved forward. At the crescendo of the tune, he let out a joyful howl to alert any nearby pack members of his presence. In front of the tree, Loviere laid out his sculptures and prepared to use his best manners for the inevitable confrontation.
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