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Description

-
“There are so many fragile things, after all.
People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts.”
-Neil Gaiman
-

Name: Nikare
Age: Adult
Sex: Male
Height & Weight: 85cm | 39kg
Moon Phase: WAXING GIBBOUS MOON: OAK (The Leader)
Territory: Skydas
Rank: Omega
Task: None

Abilities: None
Family: N/A

“I never wish to be easily defined.
I’d rather float over people’s minds
as something strictly fluid and non-perceivable;
more like a transparent, paradoxically iridescent
creature rather than an actual person.”
-Franz Kafka

P e r s o n a l i t y
A classically smooth, aristocratic wolf. He is enigmatic, and is not at all open with sharing his own secrets. Guarded, and endlessly evasive, Nikare prefers instead to talk about others, and is content to listen. He is graceful, and he is patient, feeling no need to rush in blindly to anything. Situations of all kinds can be dealt with proper care and nurturing, and the right time always presents itself eventually. He has learned that, and is an expert at biding his time.
Charming and chivalrous, Nikare takes great care in how he speaks, and in how he acts around others. He makes it a point to treat others with respect, even if he finds them particularly distasteful. He is witty, and gifted with words. Very easily Nikare can spin soft, sweet words, diplomatic and eloquent words, or barbed, sharp words (though he does reserve the latter). He likes to be in control at all times, and so will often do his best to exude a calm exterior for all to see even if he is struggling. Very rarely does he lash out, but there are times when his icy demeanor turns to fire, and he would like nothing more than to taste blood.
Despite his outward charm, Nikare is a very cold creature. He’s pragmatic, and ruthless. He’s willing to do, or oversee, sacrifice for the greater good, whatever it might be. Despite all of his flattery and warm words, he is arrogant, and while he does conceal this trait to an extent, it seeps out in his overwhelming sense of self-confidence.

““Don’t I?” He canted his head to the side slightly.
“I have a great fondness for the past,” he
added gently. “And knowledge.” Knowledge was
power, after all, and he was insatiable
where knowledge was concerned.”

H i s t o r y
  He was born beneath the light of a full moon, with fur as pale as the light of the full moon itself. His mother was young, and full of thoughts of the young and deeply imagined, could only see how special her little white runt was. Her other two pups, a male and a female, were both the normal dark brown wolf pups. Not knowing where the white of her unusual runt came from, Nikare’s mother could only imagine that he was touched by the moon itself.
  Sickness found its way into the family den while the pups were only two weeks old. Their mother had caught it first, and one by one the pups fell ill. Their eyes and noses ran with mucus, and when they should have opened their eyes, they remained shut fast by the dried mucus. They coughed, they sniffled, and they struggled with life. First the grey male faded, then he did not wake. A small bundle of fur gone too soon. The little female faded next, only days later. She clung more strongly to the threat of life than her brother before her, but in the end, she too slipped away.
  So the only one to remain was the smaller pup, Nikare. His mother was desperate to keep him alive more than ever, afraid to lose her last child, afraid to lose her little sliver of moonlight. She moved herself and her son to an herbalist's den, and with constant care, and perhaps with a bit of luck, little Nikare pulled through the sickness.
  All through his puphood, however, Nikare remained rather sickly. His eyes always ran, and he could never really get rid of the cough. He wanted to play with the other pups around his age, but he was small and always underweight, and as soon as he seemed to slow down or cough, his mother would sweep him back to the herbalists.
  It wasn’t the fun childhood one might hope for, but Nikare was inquisitive, and he liked learning. In spending time with adults more than children his own age, he matured more quickly, and oftentimes found himself belonging around neither the adults or his peers. However, Nikare did not mind walking his own path. He, oddly, never felt left out. Instead, he seemed to understand how little the fleeting friendships of childhood really meant, and he pursued more interesting subjects, such as the tales of ancient times, ideas of magic, and of course, healing.
  Healing and herbs was where he excelled, after all, he had spent quite a lot of time with his mother and various herbalists that quizzed him on plants and their uses while he was bored.
  It was usually while he was alone with his mother, or in other superstitious circles, when Nikare got to hear about magic, about a time when the wolves were worshiped by something called humans. They sacrificed themselves to their lupine gods, and Nikare always wondered why the wolves now were so very different; just wolves, not gods. The stories never really stated what had happened to cause the extinction of humans on the island, be it poor management by his godly ancestors, or something else entirely. But the magic in the land vanished, and the island had fallen asleep. Nikare wanted to know more.
  Fueled by an insatiable hunger for power, he fell in with a wolf that did seem to know more; Malaysia. Perhaps she could help him in his quest for knowledge. That was when and where his path deviated from the one that had seemed, at first, so obvious. He wanted to be more than an herbalist, and he wanted to know more than herbs. He needed to know more than herbs. More than that, he wanted to be a God. It was his right as a wolf to be such, and he would be part of the wolves that would return their kind to former glory.
  He was there the day of the massacre to bathe in the blood of man. However, it was that same day when his own blood spilled on the sands to mingle with the sacrifice. A human slashed his face with some strange, sharp stick, but it had not been enough to fell Nikare.
  He went north with Malaysia and her Kol. The wound he took weakened him for a time, for despite herbal remedies, infection set in. Gods did not die by the creatures that were to worship them, he had told himself, and after a time, Nikare did recover. He took his place among the Kol, among the wolves who had followed Malaysia to become gods, but he knew that he himself already was a god. It was his divine right.

-
“This looks like the end of the story; but it isn’t.”
-

O O C
Contact Preference: Google Docs
Random Events: Opt In

Description

-
“There are so many fragile things, after all.
People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts.”
-Neil Gaiman
-

Name: Nikare
Age: Adult
Sex: Male
Height & Weight: 85cm | 39kg
Moon Phase: WAXING GIBBOUS MOON: OAK (The Leader)
Territory: Skydas
Rank: Omega
Task: None

Abilities: None
Family: N/A

“I never wish to be easily defined.
I’d rather float over people’s minds
as something strictly fluid and non-perceivable;
more like a transparent, paradoxically iridescent
creature rather than an actual person.”
-Franz Kafka

P e r s o n a l i t y
A classically smooth, aristocratic wolf. He is enigmatic, and is not at all open with sharing his own secrets. Guarded, and endlessly evasive, Nikare prefers instead to talk about others, and is content to listen. He is graceful, and he is patient, feeling no need to rush in blindly to anything. Situations of all kinds can be dealt with proper care and nurturing, and the right time always presents itself eventually. He has learned that, and is an expert at biding his time.
Charming and chivalrous, Nikare takes great care in how he speaks, and in how he acts around others. He makes it a point to treat others with respect, even if he finds them particularly distasteful. He is witty, and gifted with words. Very easily Nikare can spin soft, sweet words, diplomatic and eloquent words, or barbed, sharp words (though he does reserve the latter). He likes to be in control at all times, and so will often do his best to exude a calm exterior for all to see even if he is struggling. Very rarely does he lash out, but there are times when his icy demeanor turns to fire, and he would like nothing more than to taste blood.
Despite his outward charm, Nikare is a very cold creature. He’s pragmatic, and ruthless. He’s willing to do, or oversee, sacrifice for the greater good, whatever it might be. Despite all of his flattery and warm words, he is arrogant, and while he does conceal this trait to an extent, it seeps out in his overwhelming sense of self-confidence.

““Don’t I?” He canted his head to the side slightly.
“I have a great fondness for the past,” he
added gently. “And knowledge.” Knowledge was
power, after all, and he was insatiable
where knowledge was concerned.”

H i s t o r y
  He was born beneath the light of a full moon, with fur as pale as the light of the full moon itself. His mother was young, and full of thoughts of the young and deeply imagined, could only see how special her little white runt was. Her other two pups, a male and a female, were both the normal dark brown wolf pups. Not knowing where the white of her unusual runt came from, Nikare’s mother could only imagine that he was touched by the moon itself.
  Sickness found its way into the family den while the pups were only two weeks old. Their mother had caught it first, and one by one the pups fell ill. Their eyes and noses ran with mucus, and when they should have opened their eyes, they remained shut fast by the dried mucus. They coughed, they sniffled, and they struggled with life. First the grey male faded, then he did not wake. A small bundle of fur gone too soon. The little female faded next, only days later. She clung more strongly to the threat of life than her brother before her, but in the end, she too slipped away.
  So the only one to remain was the smaller pup, Nikare. His mother was desperate to keep him alive more than ever, afraid to lose her last child, afraid to lose her little sliver of moonlight. She moved herself and her son to an herbalist's den, and with constant care, and perhaps with a bit of luck, little Nikare pulled through the sickness.
  All through his puphood, however, Nikare remained rather sickly. His eyes always ran, and he could never really get rid of the cough. He wanted to play with the other pups around his age, but he was small and always underweight, and as soon as he seemed to slow down or cough, his mother would sweep him back to the herbalists.
  It wasn’t the fun childhood one might hope for, but Nikare was inquisitive, and he liked learning. In spending time with adults more than children his own age, he matured more quickly, and oftentimes found himself belonging around neither the adults or his peers. However, Nikare did not mind walking his own path. He, oddly, never felt left out. Instead, he seemed to understand how little the fleeting friendships of childhood really meant, and he pursued more interesting subjects, such as the tales of ancient times, ideas of magic, and of course, healing.
  Healing and herbs was where he excelled, after all, he had spent quite a lot of time with his mother and various herbalists that quizzed him on plants and their uses while he was bored.
  It was usually while he was alone with his mother, or in other superstitious circles, when Nikare got to hear about magic, about a time when the wolves were worshiped by something called humans. They sacrificed themselves to their lupine gods, and Nikare always wondered why the wolves now were so very different; just wolves, not gods. The stories never really stated what had happened to cause the extinction of humans on the island, be it poor management by his godly ancestors, or something else entirely. But the magic in the land vanished, and the island had fallen asleep. Nikare wanted to know more.
  Fueled by an insatiable hunger for power, he fell in with a wolf that did seem to know more; Malaysia. Perhaps she could help him in his quest for knowledge. That was when and where his path deviated from the one that had seemed, at first, so obvious. He wanted to be more than an herbalist, and he wanted to know more than herbs. He needed to know more than herbs. More than that, he wanted to be a God. It was his right as a wolf to be such, and he would be part of the wolves that would return their kind to former glory.
  He was there the day of the massacre to bathe in the blood of man. However, it was that same day when his own blood spilled on the sands to mingle with the sacrifice. A human slashed his face with some strange, sharp stick, but it had not been enough to fell Nikare.
  He went north with Malaysia and her Kol. The wound he took weakened him for a time, for despite herbal remedies, infection set in. Gods did not die by the creatures that were to worship them, he had told himself, and after a time, Nikare did recover. He took his place among the Kol, among the wolves who had followed Malaysia to become gods, but he knew that he himself already was a god. It was his divine right.

-
“This looks like the end of the story; but it isn’t.”
-

O O C
Contact Preference: Google Docs
Random Events: Opt In