Name: Meurtrier

Gender: Female

Age: 4 Years Old

Pack: Pyrvanthros

Rank Requested: Hunter

Appearance:
Meurtrier is an arctic wolf who stands at about 72 centimeters, covered in smooth muscle. The pretty fae always make sure to keep her gleaming white fur in pristine condition at all times. Her beautifully striking amber eyes contrast with her fur in the most wonderful way. Meurtrier has a good form, she is not to lanky but she isn't built like a rhinoceros. She has more of a wiry body type. Her clean white fur is long and thick, making it a blessing in the winter, yet a curse in the summer. She is a pretty fae, and her beauty reflects her personality. She is kind and caring, and is willing to lay her life on the line for anyone she loves. She is stong and fast, capable of inflicting a lot of damage despite her size and her kindness. She isn't afraid to fight for her beliefs, and stay loyal to anyone she trusts. Yet, if you cross Meurtrier, she is not afraid to make your life a living hell, or worse, kill you. Meurtrier means murder in Français. Meurtrier's muzzle is long and thin, and her nose is a striking black. Her legs are strong and powerful, making her a wonderful runner. Her lungs are like that of a horse's, which allow her to run fast for very long distances. Her tail is average length, although it is long and thick. She has long needle-sharp teeth, making them more like fangs rather than teeth. Her paw pads are also black and in good condition. She keeps her paw pads moist and grooms them daily.

Photo:


History:
Meurtrier was born into a lone family who's morals weren't the best. Her father was a large white brute who was cross with every wolf whom he'd ever spoken to. The mother was killed by her father at a very young age, and her only sister ran away to be free at a very young age. Meurtrier's brother, Aleas, never spoke a single word after he witnessed his father slaughter his mother, and she often got frustrated with him/ He was the only wolf she knew besides her father, yet he wouldn't speak. Titus, her father, never let her leave the den. When the young fae had reached two years of age, she left the den without saying goodbye to her father or brother, and she never looked back. Young Meurtrier eloped with a handsome young mexican wolf that went by the name of Midnight although he was far from black. After the pair had mated, Midnight left Meurtrier on her own. After having her litter, they were taken from her by a pack of coyotes, all except for one. Her name was Cora, and she was just as beautiful as her mother. After about one year, the only one Meurtrier loved was killed by a rogue. She was slaughtered in cold blood, for no reason at all. Meurtrier promised she would live on, in the name of her mother and her beloved daughter, Cora. The pretty arctic wolf found it hard to face any other wolves after the slaughter of her daughter, so she lived alone. She lived on the outskirts of the forest in solitude, hunting and learning to live on her own. She longed the companionship of her daughter, or even midnight. She set out to be a rogue but found that their lifestyle was somewhat violent, so she retreated back to her own solitude. She eventually grew very skilled at running and hunting, as she had to feed herself all winter.

Joining Keys: A hungry wolf has eaten the joining keys, so sorry~ Alphess Rose

How did you find Age? Warrior Warg

Example Post:
Warg padded across the frozen ground, the once-beautiful leaved brown and shriveled. He wrinkled his muzzle and huffed, a white could of steam trailing from his lips. He hated winter, he despised it with all of his heart. (Or what was left of it) Everything was dead, colorless, and stale. Although he wasn't generally a happy, gleeful wolf he enjoyed the world around him when it was vibrant and full of color. It made him feel better about himself and his past, and made him forget about it sometimes. When winter rolled around he was always reminded of who he was on the inside, dead and cold. The other seasons all had good smells and colors, and it was one of the only things he took pleasure in anymore. He shook his head, blinking against the cold. The heavyset brute ruffled his black fur and sneezed. The cold always made his nose and eyes so dry. He longed for the taste of the air on a warm spring day when the flowers were beginning to bloom, and the springs were sweet and cool. He flicked his ears and stopped walking. His feet were cold and tired, but he was seep in thought, so he continued walking. He wondered if he'd ever find another mate, or if he'd love her just the same as his beloved Cora. He shook the memory of Cora's beautiful face out of his large skull. He just wanted to forget, but he hardly doubted he would. The feeling inside his heart was confusing to him, ho couldn't decipher is he wanted to love again, or if he just didn't want to be lonely anymore. He couldn't decide, he was conflicted, and there was nothing he could do. He squeezed his eyes shut and huffed again, not knowing where to go, or what to do. The black brute trotted on, deep in thought.

Fixed