Post by Deleted on Aug 22, 2017 23:22:44 GMT -8
Unfortunately due to circumstances that have made my life a very busy one, I have decided that I will be putting a few of my beloved characters up for adoption in the hopes that the pressure to post will start to ease. I've decided to put these three boys up for adoption because sadly I have lost a great deal of muse for the them, but I can't express how much I love each of them and it really pains me to have to give them away. I've had a lot of fun with these guys, but I think it's time that I part ways with them for the sake of my own productivity.
If you would like to take on any of these lovely dudes, please leave a post with the following:
Your characters
Character you would like to adopt
Roleplay Sample
General Azriel, 4.5 Years, Male, Eurasian Wolf
Pack: Ferus || Rank: General || Measurements: 3'7", 6'4"
Azriel is harsh, cunning, calculative and sometimes known to be cold. This male had no time for the weak and is constantly striving to become as best as he can be (usually at fighting). Although Az may seem quiet and mean, at times he can come off as quite a charming and somewhat friendly individual when surrounded by the right wolves. And he might look down upon the weak and useless, but that doesn't mean he isn't willing to help or support, although he may seem hesitant to waste his time on such a wolf. Azriel believes that everyone can be strong through some aspect of their personality and he is happy to help anyone reach peek perfection in that said aspect, wether it be through his harsh training methods or stern words. This cunning male always has a battle plan ready in the back of his mind, and always looks forward to a bit of mischief every now and then. Azriel isn't overly dominate, but will step up to the plate if the time is right. If Az finds someone who he thinks is worthy of his undying trust and loyalty, he will dedicate himself wholly and can be one of the most loyal wolves you are ever likely to meet.
Azriel's coat is a splattering of brown, cream and black. The hues dappled and mottled across his muscular figure, with some defining cream colours across his stomach, and some darker brown mixes around his face. With glowing honey orange eyes that bring together his somewhat handsome appearance, he had been known to catch the attention of a few females in his past. Az has small scars scattered over his body from previous fights and training exercises, the most prominent scar being the thick shape that runs over the left side of his jaw, he is known to lick this scar quite often after eating or getting into a fight. His form is slightly larger than any average wolf, with muscles rippling across his body from years of training, his physic alone is enough for any wolf to tell that he enjoys fights, and isn't one to back down from them, either.
Azriel was the fourth born in a litter of nine to the powerful General of a powerful pack. His mother was a sweet little thing, not capable of hurting a fly, whereas his father was the biggest and toughest within the pack, thus his title of General. Az was the biggest in his litter, and it was clear from day one that he was born to fight, the little pup would always roll around with eyes and hears still closed attempting to nibble on his siblings ears or feet.
By the time the pups where ready to leave the den, it was obvious that most of the pups took after their mother in nature. They were all quiet, obedient and careful. Except for Azriel and the runt of the litter, Cassian. They were both reckless, loud and always tussling with each out through the thick grass of the territory, both young boys always sticking close to their father in hopes that they would be chosen to be his prodigy. But at the age of eight months when the boy where taken on their first hunt to decide who would follow in their father's training, Cassian was hit directly in the head by an on coming stag, and was then trampled by the rest of the herd. He died the next day, suffering sever wounds to his head, ribs and legs.
Azriel quickly forget about his brother and moved on, as he was chosen to be his father's prodigy. The loss of his brother was tragic and brutal, but Az had to learn to get over it as the next ten months of his life were filled with intense training sessions and battles. His small puppyish limbs were quickly replaced with muscular legs, broad paws and a ready stance. Throughout his training he became smarter, quicker and stronger, the true prodigy of a legendary General. A few months after his training came to a close, he said his goodbyes to his mother, father and siblings as he set out to find his own story as a two year old ready to explore the world. He was to carry on his father's legacy in another pack or another place, but he has yet to find such a place for himself, as he has become fond of the rogue life, but now ready to give it up and search for a new place to call home.
Notes: Because of Azriel's importance within Ferus I would prefer if an experienced role-player with knowledge of the pack's history and workings adopted him. If nobody ends up taking him I will consider keeping him myself because I really don't want to have to kill him off.
Rogue Rowan, 3 Years, Male, Yukon x Northern Rocky Wolf
Pack: Rogue || Rank: Rogue/'Leader' || Measurements: 3'5", 5'7"
Upon first meeting Rowan, he would seem somewhat cold and distant, as if he has built a wall around his true self for whatever personal reason. His stone like expression, calculative gaze and gruff/fiery personality makes it hard for anyone to get to know the real Rowan, but once they do this brutes true nature makes him seem like a loveable puppy. Under his stone cold outer appearance is hidden a kind, caring and generous male who is willing to help anyone in need once he knows them well enough. He can be loveable at times, but is usually too busy baring his teeth and hiding in seclusion, as he prefers to be alone or in small groups, but he finds that he would be able to tolerate larger hoards of wolves, such as a pack. Rowan isn't particularly dominate, but he hates when others stand above him and talk down to him if they have no right or respect earnt from him, however once you gain this males respect you will also gain his undying loyalty and possibly friendship.
Rowan's taller figure stands at 3.5 feet tall, making him not the tallest wolf ever but definitely not classified as small. Under his thicker fur lays a hint of muscle, suggesting that he knows how to handle himself in battle and is prepared to defend himself if needed. His pelt is predominantly a creamy white, with darker colours such as grey, black and brown running along his tail and mottling in a small patch along his back. His forehead and ear tips are a brown/grey colour that fade down into a milky cream hue over his startling grey eyes and muzzle which continues on to the rest of his body.
Rowan's parents, Kazred and Sansi, were the proud Beta's of a large pack situated in a lush and dense forest. He was the second born of the pair, however his older brother died soon after birth, which then made Rowan the top of his small litter of four that consisted of himself, a younger brother named Cadre, and his two younger sisters named Madra and Kasie. The young male grew to love his pack very much, especially his siblings as he acted like a guardian over the younger and smaller pups.
A few days after the pups had become four months of age, a massive bear had wondered into the common grounds while the rest of the pack was at the hunting grounds. The ferocious animal found its way to where the pups lay huddled in their den asleep, waiting for their pack to return with a fresh kill. Rowan was first to hear the bear's hushed growls of joy upon finding the four pups, and he quickly alerted the rest of his siblings to wake up. Kasie was the only one to wake up, the two other pups not hearing the hushed growls over the shouting of their siblings and thinking they were only joking. When Rowan realised that they were not going to get up, he pushed Kasie out of the den and told her to run as the bear reached into the den and scooped up the unsuspecting Cadre, eating the small male on the spot before reaching back into the den to grab the squealing Madra, her fate being the same as her brothers, leaving Rowan huddled at the back of the den and only just out of the bear's reach. Traumatised, alone and with death knocking on his door, he sat motionless and scared for his life for a few minutes before a flurry of fur and claws pushed the beast away from the den, it was his father, Kazred, who had leaped upon the bear and had started ripping through its flesh with teeth and claw, soon followed by his smaller mother, Sansi.
They fought valiantly and were joined by the rest of the mighty pack in the attack on the bear and soon managed to kill the giant beast, but they did not gain this victory without a few losses. Both Kazred, Sansi, and one of their best warriors were mortally wounded in the process and dyed a few days later due to blood loss and infection.
Rowan was distraught, and the pack mourned the loss of their Betas for a few weeks. Kasie had gone missing amoungst the chaos that had ensued that day, his two other siblings had been devoured by a bear and both of his parents were dead. The pup had no one left, and still slightly traumatised from the incident he forced himself to build walls around his once loving nature, and he soon become distant and cold.
Being the oldest of his litter, Rowan was blamed harshly for the death and disappearance of his siblings. His pack mates showered him with criticism, telling him that he should've died before his siblings. While Rowan was heartbroken, lost and traumatised, he one day lashed out at the pack's newly appointed Beta who was baring down on him with a great amount of harshness. The now six month old pup managed to mangle the Beta's leg, and as punishment he was banished from his pack.
Almost two years later and Rowan has been wandering the rogue lands for most of his life, the harsh conditions have pushed his horrible memories back to his past, where he plans for them to stay and never be touched again.
Notes: When applying for Rowan, please take into consideration the fact that he has only one eye and a weak back leg due to recent injury. He will need to be role-played as such. I know I'm asking for a lot, but I would appreciate it if whoever takes him has a decent amount of knowledge of the history of his little group as he is technically their 'leader'. His group is currently located in the Brush Lands.
Scout Ravus, 4.5 Years, Male, Alexander Archipelago Wolf
Pack: Somnus || Rank: Scout || Measurements: 3'3", 6'1"
Damaged. That’s just it. Ravus has become so damaged and physically beaten that he would rather avoid talking at all costs in fear of being punished for whatever opinion or statement he might want to voice…which is why most wolves immediately assume him to be mute, which really just adds to the pity-factor.
Ravus is a quiet and gentle soul, never wanting to hurt anyone nor cause any conflict. Perhaps if his past wasn’t so horrific he would’ve turned out to be quite the charming gentleman, but unfortunately, this reality has been buried by an avalanche of torment and enslavement thanks to his very own father, who managed to drive Ravus’s self-worth deeper than either of them had ever thought possible. Despite this, the ebony male is not a weakling or a coward, his incredibly strong sense of determination has driven him through to where he is now, as well as a fierce and fiery passion to protect the few that he may manage to eventually love.
Ravus is a very confronting sight to behold. A once handsome body coated with ebony fur, standing at 3’3” to the shoulder and 6’1” from nose to tail, the most noticeable things about his figure are his dull, almost pained amber eyes, and the dozens upon dozens of scars that cover his body. From small and barley even gnarled, to a massive whorl of messily healed skin across his back leg. They’re everywhere, and they’re not pretty. The other noticeable trait would be his lack of speech, which leads most to think of him as a mute, though as time always tells, he is in fact not. Along with the PTSD that manages to make his life a living hell, Ravus is not the most stable of bodies you’ll ever meet…
He was only very young when his life went very wrong, two months old to be exact. It was a winter night, cold as anyone would expect it to be, and his father (Faras) had left on a nightly pack-hunt, leaving him, his mother (Aya) and his brother (Vaan) alone for the night. Ravus being the runt, his kind and gentle mother feared that her younger son may not make it through the night, so she pulled him close to her body, keeping him warm and safe as snow fell outside. However, his brother Vaan, being a stubborn and self-righteous male did not think he would need his mother’s warmth to survive the night. Vaan was dead before the grey morning light could reach his frozen body.
Faras returned before his mother or he woke up, finding his eldest and most promising son dead, the sadistic brute went into a rage, dragging Ravus out of the den by the leg and tossing him into the snow, threatening Aya that he would kill her favourite son as punishment for letting his own favourite fall to the hands of an icy death. In a panicked and devastated mind-frame, Aya quickly jumped between Faras and Ravus, insisting that if anyone should be slaughtered it should be her.
Faras did not think twice as he butchered Ravus’s own mother right in front of him, her blood staining his fur, the snow and drenched his father’s body. Still infuriated by his son’s untimely death, Faras continued to beat and scar Ravus until his small body was a bloody pulp laying amongst the snow, his mother’s still-warm body starting to ice-over beside him.
The Salutary of the pack found his almost dead figure soon after, quickly working to stop the bleeding and bring him back to strength. Reporting the death of Aya and injuries to Ravus immediately to the pack’s Alpha, the young male expected justice for his father’s crimes, but before the Alpha could approach Ravus to ask what had happened, Faras found his pup and dragged him out of the sleeping Salutary’s den by his ear, snarling in his face while saying “If you tell anyone what happened or what you saw, I will spill your guts on the ground faster than you can give them my damn name.” Terrified by his father’s threading words, Ravus was forced to tell the Alpha that a bear had slaughtered his mother while she was trying to protect him.
He was then subjected to years of relentless torture and beatings from his own father away from the pack’s prying eyes. Every time he tried to voice an opinion or tell Faras something mundane he would find another scar littered on his pelt. Whenever someone asked why he was bleeding or why he was limping, Ravus could barely even bring himself to push a lie through his teeth anymore, afraid that his excuse of being clumsy might not be good enough for his father and that it would only lead to yet another wound. So he became mute, choosing not to speak in fear of what may come if he did.
His father was all-too pleased by his son’s suppression, though a little peeved that the other pack mates were still trying to teach him to at least hunt, Faras was still overjoyed that every time he would speak to his own son, he would flinch away. Hell, he was even over the moon when Ravus began waking up in the middle of the night whimpering, gasping for air and scampering out of the den from his night terrors that were plagued with visions of Faras lashing him.
It was that thankful day when a ray of sunlight seemed to glimmer down onto the darkness of Ravus’s miserable life. It was the morning when he woke to the scent of a neighbouring pack at their borders, the howling-alarms of invasion cutting through the air and waking the entire pack. Every able bodied warrior were quick to leave heir dens, the Alpha rallying his wolves to defend their land. One of the warriors included his own father, while Ravus was left with the panicked younglings and weaker females. Terrified of what was to come, the ebony male did the only thing he knew how to do, he ran and hid, finding a cave not too far from the northern border of the territory. Curling his body up into a tight mass of fur and fear, he spent the next three days huddled in the cave, waiting for some kind of sign as to what was happening outside. It was the overwhelming scent of the invading pack that told him how well the battle went, and it was then that he took his chance to flee the territory, looking back only out of pure fear that Faras might’ve been following him.
But as far as anyone was concerned, Ravus was free from that moment onwards; but of course he is still haunted heavily by his PTSD, all thanks to his father.
Notes: Boy oh boy, Ravus is one complicated dude. He suffers from PTSD which includes mild 'flash-backs' and recalls, but he mainly suffers from severe night-terrors. This will need to be taken into consideration for roleplay. If you have any questions about his mental health, triggers or how to accurately portray his condition, please don't be afraid to PM me, I'd be more than willing to answer your questions~
If you would like to take on any of these lovely dudes, please leave a post with the following:
Your characters
Character you would like to adopt
Roleplay Sample
General Azriel, 4.5 Years, Male, Eurasian Wolf
Pack: Ferus || Rank: General || Measurements: 3'7", 6'4"
Azriel is harsh, cunning, calculative and sometimes known to be cold. This male had no time for the weak and is constantly striving to become as best as he can be (usually at fighting). Although Az may seem quiet and mean, at times he can come off as quite a charming and somewhat friendly individual when surrounded by the right wolves. And he might look down upon the weak and useless, but that doesn't mean he isn't willing to help or support, although he may seem hesitant to waste his time on such a wolf. Azriel believes that everyone can be strong through some aspect of their personality and he is happy to help anyone reach peek perfection in that said aspect, wether it be through his harsh training methods or stern words. This cunning male always has a battle plan ready in the back of his mind, and always looks forward to a bit of mischief every now and then. Azriel isn't overly dominate, but will step up to the plate if the time is right. If Az finds someone who he thinks is worthy of his undying trust and loyalty, he will dedicate himself wholly and can be one of the most loyal wolves you are ever likely to meet.
Azriel's coat is a splattering of brown, cream and black. The hues dappled and mottled across his muscular figure, with some defining cream colours across his stomach, and some darker brown mixes around his face. With glowing honey orange eyes that bring together his somewhat handsome appearance, he had been known to catch the attention of a few females in his past. Az has small scars scattered over his body from previous fights and training exercises, the most prominent scar being the thick shape that runs over the left side of his jaw, he is known to lick this scar quite often after eating or getting into a fight. His form is slightly larger than any average wolf, with muscles rippling across his body from years of training, his physic alone is enough for any wolf to tell that he enjoys fights, and isn't one to back down from them, either.
Azriel was the fourth born in a litter of nine to the powerful General of a powerful pack. His mother was a sweet little thing, not capable of hurting a fly, whereas his father was the biggest and toughest within the pack, thus his title of General. Az was the biggest in his litter, and it was clear from day one that he was born to fight, the little pup would always roll around with eyes and hears still closed attempting to nibble on his siblings ears or feet.
By the time the pups where ready to leave the den, it was obvious that most of the pups took after their mother in nature. They were all quiet, obedient and careful. Except for Azriel and the runt of the litter, Cassian. They were both reckless, loud and always tussling with each out through the thick grass of the territory, both young boys always sticking close to their father in hopes that they would be chosen to be his prodigy. But at the age of eight months when the boy where taken on their first hunt to decide who would follow in their father's training, Cassian was hit directly in the head by an on coming stag, and was then trampled by the rest of the herd. He died the next day, suffering sever wounds to his head, ribs and legs.
Azriel quickly forget about his brother and moved on, as he was chosen to be his father's prodigy. The loss of his brother was tragic and brutal, but Az had to learn to get over it as the next ten months of his life were filled with intense training sessions and battles. His small puppyish limbs were quickly replaced with muscular legs, broad paws and a ready stance. Throughout his training he became smarter, quicker and stronger, the true prodigy of a legendary General. A few months after his training came to a close, he said his goodbyes to his mother, father and siblings as he set out to find his own story as a two year old ready to explore the world. He was to carry on his father's legacy in another pack or another place, but he has yet to find such a place for himself, as he has become fond of the rogue life, but now ready to give it up and search for a new place to call home.
Notes: Because of Azriel's importance within Ferus I would prefer if an experienced role-player with knowledge of the pack's history and workings adopted him. If nobody ends up taking him I will consider keeping him myself because I really don't want to have to kill him off.
Rogue Rowan, 3 Years, Male, Yukon x Northern Rocky Wolf
Pack: Rogue || Rank: Rogue/'Leader' || Measurements: 3'5", 5'7"
Upon first meeting Rowan, he would seem somewhat cold and distant, as if he has built a wall around his true self for whatever personal reason. His stone like expression, calculative gaze and gruff/fiery personality makes it hard for anyone to get to know the real Rowan, but once they do this brutes true nature makes him seem like a loveable puppy. Under his stone cold outer appearance is hidden a kind, caring and generous male who is willing to help anyone in need once he knows them well enough. He can be loveable at times, but is usually too busy baring his teeth and hiding in seclusion, as he prefers to be alone or in small groups, but he finds that he would be able to tolerate larger hoards of wolves, such as a pack. Rowan isn't particularly dominate, but he hates when others stand above him and talk down to him if they have no right or respect earnt from him, however once you gain this males respect you will also gain his undying loyalty and possibly friendship.
Rowan's taller figure stands at 3.5 feet tall, making him not the tallest wolf ever but definitely not classified as small. Under his thicker fur lays a hint of muscle, suggesting that he knows how to handle himself in battle and is prepared to defend himself if needed. His pelt is predominantly a creamy white, with darker colours such as grey, black and brown running along his tail and mottling in a small patch along his back. His forehead and ear tips are a brown/grey colour that fade down into a milky cream hue over his startling grey eyes and muzzle which continues on to the rest of his body.
Rowan's parents, Kazred and Sansi, were the proud Beta's of a large pack situated in a lush and dense forest. He was the second born of the pair, however his older brother died soon after birth, which then made Rowan the top of his small litter of four that consisted of himself, a younger brother named Cadre, and his two younger sisters named Madra and Kasie. The young male grew to love his pack very much, especially his siblings as he acted like a guardian over the younger and smaller pups.
A few days after the pups had become four months of age, a massive bear had wondered into the common grounds while the rest of the pack was at the hunting grounds. The ferocious animal found its way to where the pups lay huddled in their den asleep, waiting for their pack to return with a fresh kill. Rowan was first to hear the bear's hushed growls of joy upon finding the four pups, and he quickly alerted the rest of his siblings to wake up. Kasie was the only one to wake up, the two other pups not hearing the hushed growls over the shouting of their siblings and thinking they were only joking. When Rowan realised that they were not going to get up, he pushed Kasie out of the den and told her to run as the bear reached into the den and scooped up the unsuspecting Cadre, eating the small male on the spot before reaching back into the den to grab the squealing Madra, her fate being the same as her brothers, leaving Rowan huddled at the back of the den and only just out of the bear's reach. Traumatised, alone and with death knocking on his door, he sat motionless and scared for his life for a few minutes before a flurry of fur and claws pushed the beast away from the den, it was his father, Kazred, who had leaped upon the bear and had started ripping through its flesh with teeth and claw, soon followed by his smaller mother, Sansi.
They fought valiantly and were joined by the rest of the mighty pack in the attack on the bear and soon managed to kill the giant beast, but they did not gain this victory without a few losses. Both Kazred, Sansi, and one of their best warriors were mortally wounded in the process and dyed a few days later due to blood loss and infection.
Rowan was distraught, and the pack mourned the loss of their Betas for a few weeks. Kasie had gone missing amoungst the chaos that had ensued that day, his two other siblings had been devoured by a bear and both of his parents were dead. The pup had no one left, and still slightly traumatised from the incident he forced himself to build walls around his once loving nature, and he soon become distant and cold.
Being the oldest of his litter, Rowan was blamed harshly for the death and disappearance of his siblings. His pack mates showered him with criticism, telling him that he should've died before his siblings. While Rowan was heartbroken, lost and traumatised, he one day lashed out at the pack's newly appointed Beta who was baring down on him with a great amount of harshness. The now six month old pup managed to mangle the Beta's leg, and as punishment he was banished from his pack.
Almost two years later and Rowan has been wandering the rogue lands for most of his life, the harsh conditions have pushed his horrible memories back to his past, where he plans for them to stay and never be touched again.
Notes: When applying for Rowan, please take into consideration the fact that he has only one eye and a weak back leg due to recent injury. He will need to be role-played as such. I know I'm asking for a lot, but I would appreciate it if whoever takes him has a decent amount of knowledge of the history of his little group as he is technically their 'leader'. His group is currently located in the Brush Lands.
Scout Ravus, 4.5 Years, Male, Alexander Archipelago Wolf
Pack: Somnus || Rank: Scout || Measurements: 3'3", 6'1"
Damaged. That’s just it. Ravus has become so damaged and physically beaten that he would rather avoid talking at all costs in fear of being punished for whatever opinion or statement he might want to voice…which is why most wolves immediately assume him to be mute, which really just adds to the pity-factor.
Ravus is a quiet and gentle soul, never wanting to hurt anyone nor cause any conflict. Perhaps if his past wasn’t so horrific he would’ve turned out to be quite the charming gentleman, but unfortunately, this reality has been buried by an avalanche of torment and enslavement thanks to his very own father, who managed to drive Ravus’s self-worth deeper than either of them had ever thought possible. Despite this, the ebony male is not a weakling or a coward, his incredibly strong sense of determination has driven him through to where he is now, as well as a fierce and fiery passion to protect the few that he may manage to eventually love.
Ravus is a very confronting sight to behold. A once handsome body coated with ebony fur, standing at 3’3” to the shoulder and 6’1” from nose to tail, the most noticeable things about his figure are his dull, almost pained amber eyes, and the dozens upon dozens of scars that cover his body. From small and barley even gnarled, to a massive whorl of messily healed skin across his back leg. They’re everywhere, and they’re not pretty. The other noticeable trait would be his lack of speech, which leads most to think of him as a mute, though as time always tells, he is in fact not. Along with the PTSD that manages to make his life a living hell, Ravus is not the most stable of bodies you’ll ever meet…
He was only very young when his life went very wrong, two months old to be exact. It was a winter night, cold as anyone would expect it to be, and his father (Faras) had left on a nightly pack-hunt, leaving him, his mother (Aya) and his brother (Vaan) alone for the night. Ravus being the runt, his kind and gentle mother feared that her younger son may not make it through the night, so she pulled him close to her body, keeping him warm and safe as snow fell outside. However, his brother Vaan, being a stubborn and self-righteous male did not think he would need his mother’s warmth to survive the night. Vaan was dead before the grey morning light could reach his frozen body.
Faras returned before his mother or he woke up, finding his eldest and most promising son dead, the sadistic brute went into a rage, dragging Ravus out of the den by the leg and tossing him into the snow, threatening Aya that he would kill her favourite son as punishment for letting his own favourite fall to the hands of an icy death. In a panicked and devastated mind-frame, Aya quickly jumped between Faras and Ravus, insisting that if anyone should be slaughtered it should be her.
Faras did not think twice as he butchered Ravus’s own mother right in front of him, her blood staining his fur, the snow and drenched his father’s body. Still infuriated by his son’s untimely death, Faras continued to beat and scar Ravus until his small body was a bloody pulp laying amongst the snow, his mother’s still-warm body starting to ice-over beside him.
The Salutary of the pack found his almost dead figure soon after, quickly working to stop the bleeding and bring him back to strength. Reporting the death of Aya and injuries to Ravus immediately to the pack’s Alpha, the young male expected justice for his father’s crimes, but before the Alpha could approach Ravus to ask what had happened, Faras found his pup and dragged him out of the sleeping Salutary’s den by his ear, snarling in his face while saying “If you tell anyone what happened or what you saw, I will spill your guts on the ground faster than you can give them my damn name.” Terrified by his father’s threading words, Ravus was forced to tell the Alpha that a bear had slaughtered his mother while she was trying to protect him.
He was then subjected to years of relentless torture and beatings from his own father away from the pack’s prying eyes. Every time he tried to voice an opinion or tell Faras something mundane he would find another scar littered on his pelt. Whenever someone asked why he was bleeding or why he was limping, Ravus could barely even bring himself to push a lie through his teeth anymore, afraid that his excuse of being clumsy might not be good enough for his father and that it would only lead to yet another wound. So he became mute, choosing not to speak in fear of what may come if he did.
His father was all-too pleased by his son’s suppression, though a little peeved that the other pack mates were still trying to teach him to at least hunt, Faras was still overjoyed that every time he would speak to his own son, he would flinch away. Hell, he was even over the moon when Ravus began waking up in the middle of the night whimpering, gasping for air and scampering out of the den from his night terrors that were plagued with visions of Faras lashing him.
It was that thankful day when a ray of sunlight seemed to glimmer down onto the darkness of Ravus’s miserable life. It was the morning when he woke to the scent of a neighbouring pack at their borders, the howling-alarms of invasion cutting through the air and waking the entire pack. Every able bodied warrior were quick to leave heir dens, the Alpha rallying his wolves to defend their land. One of the warriors included his own father, while Ravus was left with the panicked younglings and weaker females. Terrified of what was to come, the ebony male did the only thing he knew how to do, he ran and hid, finding a cave not too far from the northern border of the territory. Curling his body up into a tight mass of fur and fear, he spent the next three days huddled in the cave, waiting for some kind of sign as to what was happening outside. It was the overwhelming scent of the invading pack that told him how well the battle went, and it was then that he took his chance to flee the territory, looking back only out of pure fear that Faras might’ve been following him.
But as far as anyone was concerned, Ravus was free from that moment onwards; but of course he is still haunted heavily by his PTSD, all thanks to his father.
Notes: Boy oh boy, Ravus is one complicated dude. He suffers from PTSD which includes mild 'flash-backs' and recalls, but he mainly suffers from severe night-terrors. This will need to be taken into consideration for roleplay. If you have any questions about his mental health, triggers or how to accurately portray his condition, please don't be afraid to PM me, I'd be more than willing to answer your questions~