CYRA.
Note: Feel free to personalize this skeleton to your hearts content.
N a m e s a k e:
Odin's Wolf | The Decapitator | Cyra the Wolfspirit
A l i a s:
Cyra.
N u m e r i c a l:
Age: Unknown. Birth: Unknown.
S o c i o l o g i c a l :
Profession: Serves no one. Martial Status: Single. Homeland: Fearaan. Allegiance: Thorvaald and the arctic wolves. Status: Nomad
B i o l o g i c a l :
Height: 6 feet Weight: 172lbs Ethnicity: Assumed Feraani
P s y c h o l o g i c a l:
Raised in the perpetual Winter of the Land of Moving Ice and grown alongside arctic wolves, no less, Cyra is more feral than even the barbaric warriors of her tribe. She is distrusting of humans and prefers the company of animals and the freedom of isolation in a frozen land that so many people consider desolate. She is crude and speaks at the most inappropriate times, having no knowledge of appropriate social conduct. Her lack of manners is largely ignored amongst the Wolf Tribe who have grown accustomed to her often bizarre tendencies.
Despite her violent nature, she is wholly loyal to her chief, Thorvaald, as a faithful dog might be. She seems almost possessive and overprotective, disliking any contact with him from other members of his tribe, thwarting any attempts at conversation from strangers and treating with hostility, at best, any who mean him harm or disrespect.
P r o f i l e :
Towering at an imposing height of six feet with wild blonde hair messily pulled from her face, Cyra is frightening to behold. Her gaze is fierce, her features nearly feline and her endless expanse of legs nearly always tensed for battle. She wears the skins and furs typical of her tribe, although she refuses to wear the fur of the wolves. She holds a round and sturdy shield in her left arm and the other wields a heavy axe.
K i n d r e d:
Her home belongs in the dangerous glaciers of Fernaan and her family the arctic wolves who roam there. Perhaps due to the distinctly animal way she moves and her having adapted to being little more than a wolf, but they seem to treat her as if she is one of them. Her closest companion is a blue-eyed and snow furred beast she fondly calls, "Din Din," even though the great wolf is in no way timid or adorable, at least, to outsiders. He is wherever she is but he is not a pet but an equal companion.
Although she spends much time with the Wolf Tribe - although more because Thorvaald spends so much time with them than because she enjoys their company - she does not subscribe to their ways. Her tribe is her pack of wolves and Thorvaald is the only human she is fond of.
F e a t s:
Cyra wields a heavy axe in her right hand and an impressive shield with her left. She is a mistress of the shield and axe and few can disarm or defeat her in an armed battle. Having "played wrestle" with her wolf pack much of her life, she is strong and skilled in taking people to the ground and keeping them there. What she lacks in skill and precision, she makes up for with pure, uninhibited power and force. Having run with wolves, she is very quick and adept at hiding.
She is well versed in the ways of animals and never has she been harmed by one in her memory. Wolves appear to take a special liking to her and she them. Her communicational skills with humans pale drastically in comparison.
A r s e n a l:
Her armour is the skins and furs she wears and the only other things she carries on her person is a shield and an axe. Her companion in all aspects of life is a great arctic wolf whom she affectionately calls Din Din.
A r c h i v e:
Her earliest memory consists of running with her pack, her human legs, so young and weak compared to the strong leap of the other cubs, trembling with exhaustion. She stumbled until, eventually, she crumpled to the white ground. Her dearest friend, a stunning arctic wolf, circled around to nudge the nameless girl with his nose. She lay curled in a fetal position for a while before she was rolled onto her back. She struggled to her feet and the mighty beast lowered his head, urging her to climb on. They ran long and far.
Her pack had to stay ahead of the hunting parties and they did, for the most part, being superior runners and killers to their other brothers and sisters who fell prey to the armed men. But one day, the first arrow struck.
Her uncle, a large beast who was strong but not as fast as the rest of the pack, fell, his crimson blood seeping into the white snow. Her pack growled at the hunters but some fled. They leapt at throats but they were outnumbered, eventually, most ran when more of their numbers fell. A frightened girl chased them, struggling to keep up with her two legs to their four. As she fell back, her lungs burning in agony, she saw the receding figures of her family. She fell as she'd done so many times before, but this time her pack did not slow down. She was sure she would be killed by the armed creatures.
Then, she felt the familiar softness of her close companion as he curled around her, growling at their enemies. The humans shouted, yelling words she did not understand then but now knew to mean, "Get the beast! Don't harm the girl! Get away, monster! Is he protecting her?" She'd clutched her friend's thick neck and bared her teeth at the hunters. She does not remember well now, but slowly, then all at once, she found herself clothed in strange things, coddled by these enemies that killed so many of her family. They did not let her escape, no matter how many times she tried. They taught her to speak, to fight and to be human, but she would never be. They were not her family.
Thorvaald saved her brave companion, whom she grew to call Din Din, short for the Norse God Odin whom they told her many great stories of. Because of Thorvaald, he was not killed and even allowed to stay by her side, and for that, she was greatful.
Note: Feel free to personalize this skeleton to your hearts content.
N a m e s a k e:
Odin's Wolf | The Decapitator | Cyra the Wolfspirit
A l i a s:
Cyra.
N u m e r i c a l:
Age: Unknown. Birth: Unknown.
S o c i o l o g i c a l :
Profession: Serves no one. Martial Status: Single. Homeland: Fearaan. Allegiance: Thorvaald and the arctic wolves. Status: Nomad
B i o l o g i c a l :
Height: 6 feet Weight: 172lbs Ethnicity: Assumed Feraani
P s y c h o l o g i c a l:
Raised in the perpetual Winter of the Land of Moving Ice and grown alongside arctic wolves, no less, Cyra is more feral than even the barbaric warriors of her tribe. She is distrusting of humans and prefers the company of animals and the freedom of isolation in a frozen land that so many people consider desolate. She is crude and speaks at the most inappropriate times, having no knowledge of appropriate social conduct. Her lack of manners is largely ignored amongst the Wolf Tribe who have grown accustomed to her often bizarre tendencies.
Despite her violent nature, she is wholly loyal to her chief, Thorvaald, as a faithful dog might be. She seems almost possessive and overprotective, disliking any contact with him from other members of his tribe, thwarting any attempts at conversation from strangers and treating with hostility, at best, any who mean him harm or disrespect.
P r o f i l e :
Towering at an imposing height of six feet with wild blonde hair messily pulled from her face, Cyra is frightening to behold. Her gaze is fierce, her features nearly feline and her endless expanse of legs nearly always tensed for battle. She wears the skins and furs typical of her tribe, although she refuses to wear the fur of the wolves. She holds a round and sturdy shield in her left arm and the other wields a heavy axe.
K i n d r e d:
Her home belongs in the dangerous glaciers of Fernaan and her family the arctic wolves who roam there. Perhaps due to the distinctly animal way she moves and her having adapted to being little more than a wolf, but they seem to treat her as if she is one of them. Her closest companion is a blue-eyed and snow furred beast she fondly calls, "Din Din," even though the great wolf is in no way timid or adorable, at least, to outsiders. He is wherever she is but he is not a pet but an equal companion.
Although she spends much time with the Wolf Tribe - although more because Thorvaald spends so much time with them than because she enjoys their company - she does not subscribe to their ways. Her tribe is her pack of wolves and Thorvaald is the only human she is fond of.
F e a t s:
Cyra wields a heavy axe in her right hand and an impressive shield with her left. She is a mistress of the shield and axe and few can disarm or defeat her in an armed battle. Having "played wrestle" with her wolf pack much of her life, she is strong and skilled in taking people to the ground and keeping them there. What she lacks in skill and precision, she makes up for with pure, uninhibited power and force. Having run with wolves, she is very quick and adept at hiding.
She is well versed in the ways of animals and never has she been harmed by one in her memory. Wolves appear to take a special liking to her and she them. Her communicational skills with humans pale drastically in comparison.
A r s e n a l:
Her armour is the skins and furs she wears and the only other things she carries on her person is a shield and an axe. Her companion in all aspects of life is a great arctic wolf whom she affectionately calls Din Din.
A r c h i v e:
Her earliest memory consists of running with her pack, her human legs, so young and weak compared to the strong leap of the other cubs, trembling with exhaustion. She stumbled until, eventually, she crumpled to the white ground. Her dearest friend, a stunning arctic wolf, circled around to nudge the nameless girl with his nose. She lay curled in a fetal position for a while before she was rolled onto her back. She struggled to her feet and the mighty beast lowered his head, urging her to climb on. They ran long and far.
Her pack had to stay ahead of the hunting parties and they did, for the most part, being superior runners and killers to their other brothers and sisters who fell prey to the armed men. But one day, the first arrow struck.
Her uncle, a large beast who was strong but not as fast as the rest of the pack, fell, his crimson blood seeping into the white snow. Her pack growled at the hunters but some fled. They leapt at throats but they were outnumbered, eventually, most ran when more of their numbers fell. A frightened girl chased them, struggling to keep up with her two legs to their four. As she fell back, her lungs burning in agony, she saw the receding figures of her family. She fell as she'd done so many times before, but this time her pack did not slow down. She was sure she would be killed by the armed creatures.
Then, she felt the familiar softness of her close companion as he curled around her, growling at their enemies. The humans shouted, yelling words she did not understand then but now knew to mean, "Get the beast! Don't harm the girl! Get away, monster! Is he protecting her?" She'd clutched her friend's thick neck and bared her teeth at the hunters. She does not remember well now, but slowly, then all at once, she found herself clothed in strange things, coddled by these enemies that killed so many of her family. They did not let her escape, no matter how many times she tried. They taught her to speak, to fight and to be human, but she would never be. They were not her family.
Thorvaald saved her brave companion, whom she grew to call Din Din, short for the Norse God Odin whom they told her many great stories of. Because of Thorvaald, he was not killed and even allowed to stay by her side, and for that, she was greatful.
