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Character Name: Nocht
Character Birthdate (including year): May 2003
Wolf or Luperci: Luperci
Your e-mail: xfaolx@gmail.com
A secondary form of contact: (MSN) xfaolx@gmail.com (Almost never on.)
How did you learn/hear about 'Souls?: Old school, baby. Played here nigh on four years ago and then wandered off into the ether.
Apologies, therefore, if I'm out of practice.
The sky was the same no matter where you were, but for her part, Nocht felt relatively happier with four paws back on flat land. Or land at
all. Relative to wanting to commit mutiny just so she could 'turn this boat around and go straight back home', of course. The four paws part
also being a turn of phrase she reflected, as she ambled inland upright, in her werewolf form. She considered the merits of being a
landlubber as her eyes, a nondescript blue, sought patterns in the slate grey clouds above her head, glancing only momentarily before her as
she moved to make sure the path was clear. Despite her apparent preoccupation she listened alertly for the sounds of approaching wildlife,
Lupine or otherwise, as her delicate nose translated and matched smells to images in the back of her mind. The scents of trees, only slightly
different in appearance to her untrained eye from those of her homeland, assaulted her with their massively different smell. It was,
depending on which way one looked at it, either an assault on the senses or a cornucopia of new discoveries just waiting to be had. Nocht was
finding herself caught somewhere betwixt and between. Excited and cautious, keeping to herself out of a sense of self perservation in this
alien land, so like home in some ways and so unlike it in others.
Finally, her nose caught the scent she had been aimlessly searching for for the past two days and a night, since her boat had disgorged its
crew upon the beach, its belly smashed to bits. (She had observed wryly, after the fact, that they weren't much good at landings yet. They'd
need more practice. Her comment had most certainly not not been recieved in the spirit intended.) The whiff of pack borders hit her
like a shock in her distraction and she stopped in her tracks. She approached further, taking more care now and once she judged she was near
enough, but still at a safe distance threw her head back and announced herself with a low howl. She had designs on announcing herself, but not announcing herself too much. She fiddled with the sliver of carved, curved bone placed in the hole through her septum as she waited for a
response, berating herself as to whether she should have howled louder or quieter.