Clover Evelyn McKinn
It's said she's made of of storm cells and a wild wolf's hungry heart,
that she's learned the lightning's secret to ripping darkened skies apart.
The power of her presence can bring the mountains to their knees,
Her song is one of chaos as she stirs the angry seas.
But if you've met, you'd be none the wiser,
since she is also born of light, another face in the crowd;
the hidden hiding in plain sight.
Great power doesn't always come inside the forms that you'd assume,
but you would never doubt her strength when she's howling at the moon.
-- Author Unknown
The Essentials
"Chloe", "Rose"
Born in 1588, turned in 1608; immortal
5'5", 118
Born in County Galway, drifter
Widow, no living children
Irish bloodline, moon daughter of Cailleach and The Morrighan
Extended
Arms runner, bartender, huntress
Fluent in English, Irish Gaelic, Romanian, Latin, French, and Italian
Heteroflexible, switch
History
Clover was born to a poor peasant family on the moors of Ireland, where they made a meager living off the land and some farming under the rule of their local chieftain. When she was still a girl, she had lost her parents and siblings to the Black Death that ravaged most of the clan. Being an orphan had taught the girl independence and quick thinking - enough so that tales of England and their grand lords had reached her ears in her early teens.
The travel had certainly not been easy, and not without dangers. It was only by sheer strength of will and the kindness of an occasional meal from strangers that Clover found herself in the duchy of Lord Willerhelm and had, through hard work in his field and helping in his stables, that she had been offered a position to help cook and clean within the castle walls. There, she worked as hard as she always had as she grew into a young woman under the gaze of the staff that had always seemed too uneasy around the lord and his sons.
Clover found out soon enough why. Her dark curls and trim frame attracted the attention of the oldest son the winter she had turned seventeen. When his advances were rejected, the girl found out quickly how cruel the hands of the nobility could be.
The summer of her nineteenth year, she had met and become smitten with a stablehand named Mikhail that had also hailed from Ireland. The young man was tall, broad, and handsome with a kindness and patience she had not known since childhood. He treated her with a softness she needed in those days, sometimes tending to her wounds himself with herbs gathered from the countryside. Though the two were never intimate, there was a bond that defied definition between them.
Every mistake, big or small, had resulted in everything from a simple backhand to caning her so badly that it was nigh impossible to move. That didn't mean that the young woman gave in - rather, Clover had taken it and continued her job until one night where she had finally fought back by clawing the young lord Richard when he had attempted to rape her. The beating that night had nearly killed her, and when he was done, she found herself literally thrown into the rain to bleed to death or die of exposure. It was not kind, but the man had never seemed to have an ounce of goodness and empathy within him.
It was Mikhail that found her gasping for air from broken ribs and a broken nose, barely clinging to life from internal bleeding brought on by repeatedly beating her wherever the blows could meet. Only when she had been coughing up blood had he literally dragged her screaming and begging from inside had any ounce of hope dared to crop up in her.
Frankly, Clover hadn't remembered her dear companion picking her up out of the mud to carry her beyond where others could see, deep into the forest that surrounded the castle. She never knew his sense of urgency, only that they were beneath a pine tree and away from the rain as he gathered her tighter into his arms.
"Forgive me, I cannot think of another way to save you," he had said as he peeled away her clothing from her shoulder, revealing forming bruises beneath.
That had been the first time Clover had seen him shift, becoming something not quite wolf and not quite human as he held her dying body in his arms. Mikhail had been a large man, standing far taller than those around the estate, but when he had shown his lunar gift, it had defied her thoughts.
With a whimper of sorrow, his muzzle opened wide and his teeth sunk deep into her body. His maw was so large by comparison, encompassing not only her shoulder, but into her back and the top of her breast as he transferred his wolfen favor into her mortal flesh.
That night, the only thing she could remember after the bite was being free. Running through the trees, feeling unbound and wild under the gaze of the moon and stars with a huge black wolf at her side. It was pure hedonism, but it was perfect.
It had come of no surprise that Mikhail had helped her cope with her change, taught her how to shift and hunt and hide amongst the humans. He had no pack, but the two became so deeply bonded that it went beyond being mates. They soon had a small home of their own, farming and raising livestock, in a way that was simply perfect. It was made complete when Clover became withchild, giving birth to twin boys with a bright crescent moon in the sky months later.
Her life was pure.
Perfection never lasted forever.
Hunters ruined her nirvana. Full of hatred and lack of understanding, they had found the four of them with a contempt for anything but human. While Clover was never sure how they had found them, that night had been nothing but death and fire... whole destruction of her happiness.
The mates had woken to men breaking into their home, drove silver stakes into the children despite the parents trying to fight the group off, and lit the cabin ablaze. Clover had tried desperately to fight them off, eyes streaming tears as she screamed with a sorrow and rage that couldn't be described. Mikhail had been the one to put most of them down with claws and teeth before grabbing his mate to run, putting the blaze behind them as he ran into the trees. The sound of horses pounding over the terrain behind them had been something out of a nightmare, and he had thought of nothing else but to see her safe.
"Run, a'gra... do not look back."
Those had been the last words he had said to her, pushing her away to run as he sacrificed himself to save her. The last thing her hearing could pick up was his snarling and the braying of the horses and screaming of men he ripped them limb from limb in his mission to keep Clover alive and unfettered.
The forests and moors that Clover went through were a lonely, desolate affair. She had hunted off the lands and hidden in the forest for months, mentally lost and unable to approach humans after the loss of her entire world. When she finally did, it was to become a field hand and then help inside of a tavern. It all wound up blurring together through the years.
Time saw Clover wearing many "hats", everything from tending bar to working at the docks to running guns when conflicts broke out. She learned languages and traveled, keeping hunters off her tail for a few generations. Tales of a she-wolf escaping as a mad lycanthrope tore apart a group of hunters had become legend. Mikhail was hailed as a maneater and a danger, and surely his living mate was no different.
Drifting through the world and simply living was the only direction Clover really had.
At least she still had her ring, and a hope that one day hatred would give way to peace.
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Out of Character
This character was on the shelf for a long time, only played a couple times recently! I've been playing her for years, on and off.
My werewolves can shift at will, and have a human form, a fully wolfen form, and the in-between that is often depicted in art. They aren't rage-y or bloodthirsty, but simply trying to live their lives and blend in with humans. They have enhanced senses and sometimes have a bit more lupine behavior than humans (relying on scent, head tilting, that type of thing).
Potential possibilities of pairings:
- A defected hunter is looking to restart their life.
- While on the run, Clover stumbles her way into a pack.
- A human bonds with what they think is just a pretty girl.
- Someone is in need of saving, and Clover lends a hand.
- I'm open to suggestions!