Kamuliir

[Kamuliir]

Name of Wolf: Kamuliir

Gender: Male

Pack: --

Rank: Warrior

Color of eyes and pelt: Most of Kamuliir's pelt consists of black, browns, and whites. His muzzle and chest are a creamy white color, along with his tail tip, and his back and ear tips are dipped in black. The rest of his pelt is mainly a mixture of browns that fades into the white and black colored fur of the bodice. His eyes are a golden golden with slivers of amber in them.

Body structure: Kamuliir is slightly stocky in build, and has a muscular body. His muzzle is slightly shorter than a normal wolf's, and his ears and paws are both slightly larger than normal.

Personality: Kamuliir is a very solitary wolf, hardened by the knowledge he was abandoned as a pup, by the slaughter of his pack family, and by the lack of companionship he's had. He is very trustworthy, strong, and dependent. Kamuliir doesn't really long for love, because he has never known it, and the hole that is gaping in his heart because of the lack of it there is deep. He is connected strongly with the night and its celestial bodies.

Family:
Mother: Kirul
Father: Aerandir
Cousin: Amenoir
Cousin's Mate: Ardahsir

History: Kamuliir was born in the Western Lands, the male pup of Aerandir and Kirul, Alphen and Alphena of the Westernland's Wolves. He was the only pup out of seven to survive, all of the others dying before a week of a serious disease. Somehow, he managed to evade death, acquiring only a few lingering symptoms of the disease. He grew a close companionship with both his father Aerandir, and mother Kirul, as he grew, and when his father died, he took his place as Alphen.

The Westernland's pack consisted of seventeen wolves overall, all of them wolves that had been loners or outcasts of previous packs, as all attempts for Kirul to have a healthy litter of pups had failed. They held bonds of strong companionship, and Kamuliir was very close to several of them, his female cousin Amenoire. She was dark, but all over, none of the lighter fur beneath her coat visible to any other wolf. She was of his age, 3 or 4 at the time, and longing for a mate, unlike him. She later became Alphena of the pack, when Kirul retired to a lower position, and to Amenoire and another wolf named Ardashir there was born a healthy litter of three.

Amenoire and Ardashir's sixth summer, which was Kamuliir's 3, marked the attack of the Westernland's Wolves by a rival clan, the Dusken Wolves. A war raged on for three months before the Westernland's Wolves were attacked in the middle of the night, killing all wolves but Amenoire and Kamuliir, who escaped towards the mountains after learning of the fate of their packmates.

Amenoire later died of injuries acquired at the last battle, and Kamuliir remained with her still form for days before departing the den they had made, and starting off alone. For over twelve months he traveled alone, until he approached the land of the Iqsiruq Wolves, where he now searches for a place. He longs for the past he once had, but reminds himself, that the past, is, however though we may not wish it, the past, and is gone.

So, drowsing in the sunlight, golden shafts of dusty, lustery light playing across his dark-furred back, he'll dream. Dream of the past, the present, and the future; dream of his old family... Aerandir, Kirul, Amenoire, and Ardashir; dream of himself...Kamuliir.

Example of Roleplay: Golden optics gazed about momentarily, the figure halting on the spot to drink in the unfamiliar view of a new terrain. Paws had been previously hitting the earth at an impact that the figure had not cared about at all, yet now, something made the paw steps become more gentle, no sound emitting from the collision, and imprints left behind small. Eyes directed back on the set course, before the paws went back into action again. Cautious action, forced by the figures mind. Not a usual way to traipse into a terra, yet the figure did, in fact, do so.

A dull brown spot from a distance. No, a brown blur. Yet, from up close, it was obvious what this creature really was... what this figure from far off had looked like was much different than up close. Now goldeny amber occuli belonged to a wolf; no, a brute, in more exact terms. Yes, male. His fur meant to be a mixture of bold blacks, browns, and whites, with a shining pelt that reflected the light, but not anymore. From continuous wandering of the land, no matter how rough the terrain, his pelt had gathered dirt and dust, making it lose its glossy sheen, and he had not bothered to clean it off. Too lazy. Or even memories. Memories from cleaning? What could possibly lead off from that?

A mother, of course... a caring mother that cared for your existence like nothing else in the universe. As long as you were there, she would be as happy as can be, always smiling with pearly white canines showing as her lips curled in the familiar grin. When away, she would wait intently for your return, to see your face again...

This was starting to turn into more of a memory, than an answer to the question, but that was how grooming could effect his own thoughts, triggering the memory of some time ago...

He had wandered from the den, from his mother's eye once again, only wishing to be alone for a while... not with the crowd of pack members, and an overprotective mother... Yet, as it seemed, it was not time for this, and he was soon collected up, loose skin gripped in his mother's jaw... what to gain? A purely clean pelt...

Yet the brute did not only consist of the brown-flecked-with-dirt pelt. His paws were dipped in an ivory white, a light colour, which faded into a lighter brown once reaching his ankles, and this faded again into the darker brown.

Now amber optics were still directed closely on the path he had chosen to take, weaving his way through confusing ways, instead of going purely straight. Paws halted abruptly, the brute skidding to a stop, surprised at himself. Now... there was a decision to make here... what would he choose to do? Saunter about this area for a while, and wait to be confronted? Go on, and risk an attack? Or give off a howl, to be confronted by another earlier, and saving some patience? At the moment, he was quite unsure...

After a while, he decided he'd just wait to be confronted... if he howled, there was still a chance of an attack, and, this way, he would only come upon one wolf. And, if they were dangerous, he'd be able to handle it much easier...

The brute slumped to the ground, paws splaying out, tassel flicking as if to try find interest in something for the time he had to wait. His emotionless orbs gazed about the terra, collecting every detail. Another decision appeared in his brain. Pack, or rest... But he already had a plan for that one too... one to bide him time before truly making it.

Which of course could become overly confusing.

[Ikkuma]

Accepted