Name: Magnus

Gender: Male

Age: 3 Years

Pack: Erenyx

Rank Requested: Hunter

Appearance:
Magnus is a large Eastern Timber Wolf, standing at 83 centimetres tall and 178 centimetres from nose to tail tip. Weighing in at roughly 38 kilograms, he is not a very heavyset wolf, relying more on speed and stealth as his trademarks during the hunt. His fur is what one would consider brown, or more specifically, tan. The majority of his body is coloured as such with his back covered in dark, almost black fur, forming a rather mottled coat of colour. His piercing eyes are of the typical amber common to wolves that light with a fiery gaze in the thrill of the hunt. Upon his muzzle, on the left side, stretch three adjacent scars, left by the teeth of his mother when she cast him from the pack.

Photo:


History:
Magnus was born to no mated pair in particular, he was what you might call your average wolf. His mother was a Guardian by the name of Arya and his father also a Guardian called Faolin. Or so he was told. The pups father was killed in battle against another pack during his mates pregnancy. He was born and raised in a strong pack that thrived by making all pups learn to fight the moment they were weaned from their mothers milk. After their first two months of basic training, they would be given their ranks and were trained accordingly. Magnus immediately showed promise in the trade of hunting but from his parentage, was ordered to the rank of warrior. But the young apprentice struggled. Matching blows against another wolf was not quite his forte, despite the transferability of each skill.

His mother trained him night and day, forcing him to become a ruthless killer. She pitted him against other pups and told him that if he wanted to survive to reach his first year, he would have to kill those weaker than him. The pack did not tolerate any weakness and for a young pup afraid of death, he had but one choice. With each kill he made, he became desensitised to even the thought of death. It did not bother him so much. For some time it was this way, and when he was two years old, he was granted the rank of Warrior and given the name Magnus - an old word which meant Great.

When he was two and a half years old, his mother visited his den one day. She came in the middle of a brutal snowstorm in winter, followed by a beautiful young fae. She was small and well groomed, a typical beauty. His mother told him that he was to be mated with the girl that winter and they would produce strong pups for the pack. That was where he put his paw down. His mother had controlled his life for too long. First she had forced him to be a warrior and now she would have him mate a fae he didn't even know, purely for the sake of producing strong pups. Magnus refused, scorning his mother for her disregard for her son. Arya turned on her only son and began the greatest battle Magnus had ever experienced. Magnus fought more ferociously than he ever had in his life, but he did not have it in him to kill his mother. And he could see in her pale eyes that she could not either. But she would leave him with a reminder of his folly. Her jaws clenched over his muzzle, she threw him into the snow, growling that he had best leave. Run, Magnus. Run away and never return. Those had been her final words to her son before she raked her canines over his muzzle, causing blood to swell from the wounds.

Months later, the wounds had healed into three adjacent scars that acted as a constant reminder of his old life. He had accomplished a life on his own and given in to his ability to hunt and honing his already present talent. He travelled a long way north, far from his old pack in search of new lands to pledge himself to. He stayed well away from conflicts with other packs until he found a place where he thought his stern mindset would be welcome.

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