Taggerung ♦ Imperial Guard
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/_8569124.jpg)
Taggerung
Imperial Guard
Mate: none
Kin: Joten (father), Mellowred (mother), Silvane (uncle)
Pups: none
Taggerung is a respectable and feared Imperial Guard of The Slay. Known for his strategy and massive strength, this large wolf is seldom ever messed with. Wolves and dogs will talk behind his back but never to his face. If they do, they're bound to be on the sorry end of a heavy blow. As an Imperial Guard, Taggerung receives a good deal of respect, sometimes admiration, from other members. But he feels he doesn't deserve it. He didn't want to be an Imperial Guard really, but seeing as that was what he was best at and most determined to do -guard the leaders' lives- it seemed the proper role to place him in. He accepted, and he performs his duty well. But sometimes he wishes things were not so. He'd much rather protect the Alpha of his own volition than have it designated as some duty. Though a Pack member, he acts like a lone wolf since that is the lifestyle he is most accustomed to. He tends to keep to himself and sometimes wanders off alone. He obeys and respects Creature, and proudly addresses himself as one of The Slay, but his heart tells him otherwise. He doesn't shy from his duties, no. He will always be relentlessly loyal to the Alpha, Alphess, and Heir. No matter the circumstances. Even if the whole Pack were to howl for the rulers' blood, he will stand by them till the bitter end. He couldn't save his family when the Shift occurred, but he is determined to save Creature when that day comes. If ever that day comes. He prays it never will. But still there is a yearning to be something else. Someone else. He won't give into it though, saying that that side of him will never win over him. He says lots of strange things, for he is a strange wolf. He tells incredible, elaborate tales, some of them he claims to be in them. But they sound so fantastic that most wolves hardly believe him. He likes to tell stories, probably the one thing he really enjoys next to running. He's fast and strong, an excellent runner and swimmer. Taggerung is a large, strong wolf with black and gray fur with hints of dark brown scattered throughout. His muzzle, legs, underbelly, and some patches on his back are white. His eyes are a pale cerulean. Taggerung was born in the middle of a harsh, cold winter to two Warriors, Mellowred and Joten, some time during the Shift. The small family lived peacefully with the pack for a time. Then the Shift came. Taggerung remembers it well though he had been hardly a week old at the time. His father disappeared with a part of the pack, and all Taggerung remembers of him is his father's silver back vanishing into fire and falling debris. His mother and he were separated from the rest of the wolves. They ran and hid and struggled to stay alive while the world shattered around them. Then a building collapsed. Mellowred tossed her son into the street as heavy cement slammed into her back. Completely crushed, but still alive, she struggled to dig her way out. Taggerung tried to help, but being so small, he couldn't do much. He tried to keep her alive, bringing scraps of food and dirty rags soaked in water. Eventually, her body couldn't take the strain and she succumbed after a week of the incident. Taggerung would have died too, a month and a half old, on his own in a falling city. He was saved by his uncle, Joten's brother Silvane. Silvane took Taggerung to the old camp of the pack to wait for Joten. When Joten didn't return for many months, Silvane and Taggerung ended up wandering. They went far and wide, facing many terrible conflicts and finding incredible things that they could hardly dream about. During one of their wanderings, Silvane was brutally murdered. Taggerung tried to avenge his friend but failed. He continued wandering as a lone wolf, and eventually found The Slay. At first, the wolves were a bit suspicious, but in need of members, they accepted him into the pack. After proving his loyalty and ability, Taggerung was made an Assassin, and after a few years, an Imperial Guard. Taggerung is in the latter part of his prime, a considerably older wolf, but not old enough to retire. His mind is sharp, his eyes are bright, and his senses are keen. He has been tried by the Shift and has passed its various tests. He can defend the Slay. He can protect his leader. He will do all these things in the names of those he could not save before.
Imperial Guard
Mate: none
Kin: Joten (father), Mellowred (mother), Silvane (uncle)
Pups: none
Taggerung is a respectable and feared Imperial Guard of The Slay. Known for his strategy and massive strength, this large wolf is seldom ever messed with. Wolves and dogs will talk behind his back but never to his face. If they do, they're bound to be on the sorry end of a heavy blow. As an Imperial Guard, Taggerung receives a good deal of respect, sometimes admiration, from other members. But he feels he doesn't deserve it. He didn't want to be an Imperial Guard really, but seeing as that was what he was best at and most determined to do -guard the leaders' lives- it seemed the proper role to place him in. He accepted, and he performs his duty well. But sometimes he wishes things were not so. He'd much rather protect the Alpha of his own volition than have it designated as some duty. Though a Pack member, he acts like a lone wolf since that is the lifestyle he is most accustomed to. He tends to keep to himself and sometimes wanders off alone. He obeys and respects Creature, and proudly addresses himself as one of The Slay, but his heart tells him otherwise. He doesn't shy from his duties, no. He will always be relentlessly loyal to the Alpha, Alphess, and Heir. No matter the circumstances. Even if the whole Pack were to howl for the rulers' blood, he will stand by them till the bitter end. He couldn't save his family when the Shift occurred, but he is determined to save Creature when that day comes. If ever that day comes. He prays it never will. But still there is a yearning to be something else. Someone else. He won't give into it though, saying that that side of him will never win over him. He says lots of strange things, for he is a strange wolf. He tells incredible, elaborate tales, some of them he claims to be in them. But they sound so fantastic that most wolves hardly believe him. He likes to tell stories, probably the one thing he really enjoys next to running. He's fast and strong, an excellent runner and swimmer. Taggerung is a large, strong wolf with black and gray fur with hints of dark brown scattered throughout. His muzzle, legs, underbelly, and some patches on his back are white. His eyes are a pale cerulean. Taggerung was born in the middle of a harsh, cold winter to two Warriors, Mellowred and Joten, some time during the Shift. The small family lived peacefully with the pack for a time. Then the Shift came. Taggerung remembers it well though he had been hardly a week old at the time. His father disappeared with a part of the pack, and all Taggerung remembers of him is his father's silver back vanishing into fire and falling debris. His mother and he were separated from the rest of the wolves. They ran and hid and struggled to stay alive while the world shattered around them. Then a building collapsed. Mellowred tossed her son into the street as heavy cement slammed into her back. Completely crushed, but still alive, she struggled to dig her way out. Taggerung tried to help, but being so small, he couldn't do much. He tried to keep her alive, bringing scraps of food and dirty rags soaked in water. Eventually, her body couldn't take the strain and she succumbed after a week of the incident. Taggerung would have died too, a month and a half old, on his own in a falling city. He was saved by his uncle, Joten's brother Silvane. Silvane took Taggerung to the old camp of the pack to wait for Joten. When Joten didn't return for many months, Silvane and Taggerung ended up wandering. They went far and wide, facing many terrible conflicts and finding incredible things that they could hardly dream about. During one of their wanderings, Silvane was brutally murdered. Taggerung tried to avenge his friend but failed. He continued wandering as a lone wolf, and eventually found The Slay. At first, the wolves were a bit suspicious, but in need of members, they accepted him into the pack. After proving his loyalty and ability, Taggerung was made an Assassin, and after a few years, an Imperial Guard. Taggerung is in the latter part of his prime, a considerably older wolf, but not old enough to retire. His mind is sharp, his eyes are bright, and his senses are keen. He has been tried by the Shift and has passed its various tests. He can defend the Slay. He can protect his leader. He will do all these things in the names of those he could not save before.
Scarecrow ♦ Warrior
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/_2734339.jpg)
Scarecrow
Warrior
Mate: none
Kin: unidentified
Pups: none
Scarecrow. A menace. A terror. A motley spattering of browns, blacks, whites, and grays cover his fur. Narrowed eyes. Dangerous eyes. A cruel glaze of misty brown. Brutality. For a warrior, he acts more like a machine. Viscous. To a fault. Always fueled by some sort of rage or insatiable hunger for strife. Unlike some wolves who enjoy fighting or killing, he's more of a sadist. He likes one thing: causing others pain. Psychotic. Most likely. It is common knowledge enough that there are things in the world that can cause a wolf's mind to lose itself and avert to darker things. He's not crazy necesarily. In fact he's highly intelligent and very logical. Rather, he has a murderous and distressing side to him that comes out to play when he's in one of his moods. Usually when he's either alone with a lone wolf or some other subordinate creature that he is free to use at his mercy. He plays and toys with the psyche, splitting canines open to see what makes them tick. He's dangerous and disturbing, and it is well known that he will only be kept so long as he is useful. He knows what this means. He has disposed useless wolves before. So he keeps a damper on himself. A leash if you will. He will only act to a certain extent, and no further past that point. He knows if he does to much, then he'll end up in trouble. Is this all he is? Some mindless, killing thing? No. He's relatively boring and average on a daily basis. The above was only a description of how he is when in a 'mood' if you will call it such. He's quite sociable really, and tends to complain when things don't go well. He picks on apprentices and plays with pups. He does his duties and flirts with the she-wolves. In fact he's so normal, most wolves tend to forget his moods. Until they happen. Then they are surprised maybe for a moment before remembering that this is who he is. Cruel a moment, kind the next. A facade. A sham. Maybe. He's such an ever changing character.
Warrior
Mate: none
Kin: unidentified
Pups: none
Scarecrow. A menace. A terror. A motley spattering of browns, blacks, whites, and grays cover his fur. Narrowed eyes. Dangerous eyes. A cruel glaze of misty brown. Brutality. For a warrior, he acts more like a machine. Viscous. To a fault. Always fueled by some sort of rage or insatiable hunger for strife. Unlike some wolves who enjoy fighting or killing, he's more of a sadist. He likes one thing: causing others pain. Psychotic. Most likely. It is common knowledge enough that there are things in the world that can cause a wolf's mind to lose itself and avert to darker things. He's not crazy necesarily. In fact he's highly intelligent and very logical. Rather, he has a murderous and distressing side to him that comes out to play when he's in one of his moods. Usually when he's either alone with a lone wolf or some other subordinate creature that he is free to use at his mercy. He plays and toys with the psyche, splitting canines open to see what makes them tick. He's dangerous and disturbing, and it is well known that he will only be kept so long as he is useful. He knows what this means. He has disposed useless wolves before. So he keeps a damper on himself. A leash if you will. He will only act to a certain extent, and no further past that point. He knows if he does to much, then he'll end up in trouble. Is this all he is? Some mindless, killing thing? No. He's relatively boring and average on a daily basis. The above was only a description of how he is when in a 'mood' if you will call it such. He's quite sociable really, and tends to complain when things don't go well. He picks on apprentices and plays with pups. He does his duties and flirts with the she-wolves. In fact he's so normal, most wolves tend to forget his moods. Until they happen. Then they are surprised maybe for a moment before remembering that this is who he is. Cruel a moment, kind the next. A facade. A sham. Maybe. He's such an ever changing character.
Mesorogiwi ♦ Apprentice
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/_8654309.jpg)
Mesorogiwi
Apprentice
Mate: none
Kin: unidentified
Pups: none
Mentor: none
Young, quiet, creative: Mesorogiwi is one of the pack's promising apprentices. He has strength, smarts, and an eye for... killing. Killing, killing, and more killing. Some say he will be an Assassin. Some say he will merely turn into a monster at this rate. Mesorogiwi ignores them all. He has no care for petty titles, only the promise of his own ability. He loves to fight and to be the victor. He loves the art of combat and could hope for no better life than to exist in the Slay and battle alongside his pack members in the midst of the fray. He studies and learns and fights. Maybe a little too much. He has a heart full of good intentions but a mind constantly elsewhere. He doesn't seem to have a patriotic affinity for the pack, and carries about his own ideaologies. No one knows where he got them, probably from some other wolf he crossed paths with in his life before the Slay. He lived far away, wandering for many seasons before he actually came across the Slay. Their strength is what drew him in and kept him there. He still has a sort of wild, rugged side to him. He seems to have a keen survival instinct and can't quite relax, especially when times become difficult. He's always been a mystery, and many wolves don't quite know what to expect him to do or how he will react when trials approach, for they are bound to. He hasn't really had a chance to prove his loyalty, and a good half of the members doubt the strength of his allegiance. It seems he wasn't quite meant for pack life, but he does his job and does it well and that's all anyone can ask of him really. He is helpful and reliable in a pinch, but again, a bit unpredictable. He doesn't seem to care much for the ranks or laws or regulations and doesn't believe in much of anything except himself and possibly other higher powers the wolves haven't heard of before.
Apprentice
Mate: none
Kin: unidentified
Pups: none
Mentor: none
Young, quiet, creative: Mesorogiwi is one of the pack's promising apprentices. He has strength, smarts, and an eye for... killing. Killing, killing, and more killing. Some say he will be an Assassin. Some say he will merely turn into a monster at this rate. Mesorogiwi ignores them all. He has no care for petty titles, only the promise of his own ability. He loves to fight and to be the victor. He loves the art of combat and could hope for no better life than to exist in the Slay and battle alongside his pack members in the midst of the fray. He studies and learns and fights. Maybe a little too much. He has a heart full of good intentions but a mind constantly elsewhere. He doesn't seem to have a patriotic affinity for the pack, and carries about his own ideaologies. No one knows where he got them, probably from some other wolf he crossed paths with in his life before the Slay. He lived far away, wandering for many seasons before he actually came across the Slay. Their strength is what drew him in and kept him there. He still has a sort of wild, rugged side to him. He seems to have a keen survival instinct and can't quite relax, especially when times become difficult. He's always been a mystery, and many wolves don't quite know what to expect him to do or how he will react when trials approach, for they are bound to. He hasn't really had a chance to prove his loyalty, and a good half of the members doubt the strength of his allegiance. It seems he wasn't quite meant for pack life, but he does his job and does it well and that's all anyone can ask of him really. He is helpful and reliable in a pinch, but again, a bit unpredictable. He doesn't seem to care much for the ranks or laws or regulations and doesn't believe in much of anything except himself and possibly other higher powers the wolves haven't heard of before.
Everlove ♦ Maiden
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/_4449133.jpg)
Everlove
Maiden
Mate: none
Kin: Viggo (brother)
Pups: none
Wasn't her fault. Never her fault. Not her fault that she was strong or beautiful or in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her name is Everlove. A Maiden of the Slay. A victim of the Slay. It was one of their desperate times. A time when wolves were low and the need for them was great. A little lone she-wolf. Young and strong, severe and graceful. Prowling the city, searching for food to bring her sick and dying brother. Her poor little brother. He hadn't planned on getting hurt. But hurt he was. Hurt and dying. Everlove found him food. She caught a rather plump cat. It had been a surprisingly fierce and fast beast, but Everlove was quicker. She outwitted the thing and broke its neck. Wrapped up in her hunt, she hadn't noticed the four wolves watching her. They approached her. Cornered her. They ate her cat and took her away to become a Maiden of the Slay. To provide strong, healthy pups for the Pack. She was led away broken hearted and fearful. Not for herself, but for her brother. To this day, she has no knowledge if he is still alive. Viggo. Every day she listens to hear if a lone wolf has been found. To hear if the new wolf joining the pack is named Viggo. Or even if a lone wolf that fits Viggo's description has been slain. And every day she feels a little more dread that he really is gone, and sometimes hope that perhaps he is actually alive. Everlove isn't concerned of her situation here. She couldn't honestly care what the wolves do to her here. She has found some reluctant piece of loyalty to the Slay. They have been good to her, and their demands aren't ridiculous. Make pups. Things could be worse. She could be wandering the city, scared for her life while any old wolf came along and used her. She is strong but doesn't think so of herself. She doesn't believe she would last long out there on her own. That's probably the only thing keeping her here. She has a need to be with others. Protected. Secure. She's not good by herself and can even get scared when alone. She doubts her own abilities and her own will. Someday, maybe, she'll find it again. And with it, maybe she'll find Viggo too. Everlove is a sleek, silver-white wolf with hints of brown near a long, dark stripe that runs from her head to halfway down her tail. She has radiant, ice green eyes.
Maiden
Mate: none
Kin: Viggo (brother)
Pups: none
Wasn't her fault. Never her fault. Not her fault that she was strong or beautiful or in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her name is Everlove. A Maiden of the Slay. A victim of the Slay. It was one of their desperate times. A time when wolves were low and the need for them was great. A little lone she-wolf. Young and strong, severe and graceful. Prowling the city, searching for food to bring her sick and dying brother. Her poor little brother. He hadn't planned on getting hurt. But hurt he was. Hurt and dying. Everlove found him food. She caught a rather plump cat. It had been a surprisingly fierce and fast beast, but Everlove was quicker. She outwitted the thing and broke its neck. Wrapped up in her hunt, she hadn't noticed the four wolves watching her. They approached her. Cornered her. They ate her cat and took her away to become a Maiden of the Slay. To provide strong, healthy pups for the Pack. She was led away broken hearted and fearful. Not for herself, but for her brother. To this day, she has no knowledge if he is still alive. Viggo. Every day she listens to hear if a lone wolf has been found. To hear if the new wolf joining the pack is named Viggo. Or even if a lone wolf that fits Viggo's description has been slain. And every day she feels a little more dread that he really is gone, and sometimes hope that perhaps he is actually alive. Everlove isn't concerned of her situation here. She couldn't honestly care what the wolves do to her here. She has found some reluctant piece of loyalty to the Slay. They have been good to her, and their demands aren't ridiculous. Make pups. Things could be worse. She could be wandering the city, scared for her life while any old wolf came along and used her. She is strong but doesn't think so of herself. She doesn't believe she would last long out there on her own. That's probably the only thing keeping her here. She has a need to be with others. Protected. Secure. She's not good by herself and can even get scared when alone. She doubts her own abilities and her own will. Someday, maybe, she'll find it again. And with it, maybe she'll find Viggo too. Everlove is a sleek, silver-white wolf with hints of brown near a long, dark stripe that runs from her head to halfway down her tail. She has radiant, ice green eyes.