[CHAR] Werewolves are Endangered? Reboot [Starting soon!]

[Trinais]

Name: Ryan Jameson

Age: 27

Appearance: (image or description is fine)
Cannot get images to work (>.<), so I'll just say 6-foot-3, 150 lbs. Dark brown hair cut short on the sides, Ryan is dressed in Midwestern jeans and tees from the thrift shop.

Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Beta Werewolf

Background:
The son of a rancher father and a stay-at-home mom, Ryan Jameson grew up with the sun over his head and the wind at his back while mom and dad tried to bring him up right. Hard work was rewarded and good behavior would be noticed out in the real world, they said. So when dad took mom out to Topeka for an anniversary, they had no qualms about leaving their son to watch the house for a night. And when Ryan found a large dog in one of the newer remote-controlled coyote traps, he did what his dad taught him to: keep it locked up and wait for dad to grab his gun and take care of it.

When he heard other dogs howling on his way back to the house, Ryan didn't pay it no mind. Figured the strays would run together.

Of course, when he got to the front porch of the house and felt himself tackled and bit into by a pair of other dogs, he straight up lost it. And when the dogs coordinated to drag him into the fields, he passed out from fear.

After which he promptly awoke in the basement of another house (later learned to be the suburbs of Topeka). The Alpha of the pack didn't appreciate being caught in a common animal trap, making him look like a fool to his Betas. And he sure as hell didn't like being left out there until Ryan's "dear daddy" came back to put a bullet in his brain like he did to the pack's number three Beta last full moon. So he did Ryan the pleasure of informing him the pup would be taking the Beta's place.

It was a rough crowd at first, but Ryan took to the job of being a Beta with natural ease. He wasn't able to watch the news and see the search effort his parents lead, but it was probably for the better. The bony, pimply faces on milk cartons and the cable networks were much more different than his new, muscular and lean look the wolf in him brought out. Maybe it was Stockholm Syndrome, or maybe it was just a new love for his supernatural life, but after the first year Ryan didn't think about reaching out to his family again. Probably for the best; his dad was crucified by the media as an irresponsible parent and locked up under suspicion of murdering his own son, and his mom offed herself not long after under the media scrutiny.

After a few years, Ryan started to flex his legs and leverage his status as a dominant Beta for more freedom. The Topeka Alpha, Jared Wilks, resisted and kept Ryan on a tight leash to keep the Betas in line and prevent an insurrection, but when Mori the Alpha came to town, things changed right quick.

She ran with Topeka for a couple of days before realizing what was going on: a pack with twenty wolves wasn't the norm in her travels. Jared added a new wolf to his pack every year, while another easily wouldn't live through the change. Mori saw this wasn't going to last forever- sooner or later a Hunter would catch on and come to town and clean house. So she did the only sensible thing she could think of. She kicked the shit out of Jared and scattered the pack by force. Ryan, not sure what to do without his Alpha to follow, took to following Mori out West to Cali.

Moving out to California, Ryan hasn't fully integrated with the new pack. He keeps to himself, working at the last bar in town, "The Backhouse," as a mixer. California hasn't been the land of milk and honey he hoped it would be, but he's started seeing a human by the name of Michael on his nights off. The budding relationship between Ryan and Michael is a source of potential conflict for the pack- Ryan hasn't told Michael what he does on his "Fishing Trips" during the full moon, and Ryan has gotten overly aggressive whenever the subject of turning Michael to keep pack secrecy has been brought up...

[AllIsOne]

Anthar

Name: Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw

Age: 27

Appearance:



Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Hunter

If hunter: Were you born into it or did you become one by choice?: The answer is in the background, if it's not OK let me know!

Background: Grew up in an orphanage in a bad neighborhood, never knowing who his parents were. At age 13 he fled the orphanage and took to the streets. He quickly learned to survive by pick-pocketing and thieving, and in times of need disappearing into the shadows, and he got quite good at it. One time when he was 17, he saw a man who seemed an easy enough target, so Anthar tried his trick of bumping into the target, then sticking his hand in the pocket and stealing whatever was there. His hand closed on a wallet. It felt quite fat, and fat means more cash, so smiling he pulled his hand out, still clenching the wallet. But before his hand left the pocket, he felt a big strong hand grasp his hand tightly. 'I've been caught!' he thought to himself, and tried to escape the powerful grasp of the hand, but to no avail. He looked up at the man and saw the man was grinning.

Ten years later, under the training of that same man, who Anthar now knows as Randal Helwich, a successful werewolf hunter, Anthar has become a master of most weapons, though he favors the crossbow. He also has two Colt Python pistols (he uses silver bullets of course) which he can fire with extreme accuracy, and a silver machete coated with wolfsbane that he uses for close-combat. Randal taught him how to track werewolves, how to kill them and when to run away. He learned everything there is to know about hunting them. Randal gave Anthar a small bag of wolfsbane which hangs from a string that he wears around his neck. He told Anthar that that amulet has been passed on from father to son in his family for generations, and the amulet not only weakens werewolves, but it also protects the wearer from turning if bitten by a werewolf.

A few weeks before, Anthar and Randal ran into some trouble on a hunt for a werewolf that had escaped from the last pack they destroyed. The werewolf surprise-jumped Randal, and they fell wrestling on the ground. Anthar aimed his crossbow at the werewolf, and fired. The bolt went through the werewolf's neck. Anthar ran to Randal and threw the dead werewolf off of Randal. To Anthar's dismay, he saw that the bolt went straight through the werewolf and was stuck halfway in Randal's chest. Randal was dead.

For the past few weeks Anthar has been blindly hunting down pack after pack all over the country, seeking revenge. He will not stop until all the werewolves are dead, or he himself dies.

On one of these hunts, he was tracking a werewolf who supposedly killed a few hunters. The werewolf with the scar beneath its left eye. He followed its footsteps and ended up at a warehouse. Anthar carefully entered the warehouse, looking in every direction. He noticed that someone had set traps all over the place. At the last moment Anthar noticed a razor sharp string. It was stretched out a few centimeters in front of his throat. He could already smell that it was laced with wolfsbane. Another hunter. Interesting. He continued carefully avoiding the many traps. Suddenly he heard a scream of pain. definitely a werewolf. He ran towards the noise. When he arrived he saw he had missed all the action. The werewolf he was tracking was lying dead, his throat slashed open. Lying beside the werewolf was a man, a hunter by the looks of him. He ran to the hunter and saw that on the hunter's left arm was a huge cut. The man already lost a lot of blood, and it didn't show any signs of stopping. He quickly picked up the unconscious hunter and carried him out on his back. He drove to the hospital as fast as his Chevy Impala '67 could go.

A few days after that incident Anthar was contacted by a clan of hunters with a base in a town called "Greyville". They asked him to join their clan. The pay was pretty good, but Anthar wasn't the type of working together with others. On the other hand, working alone did get quite lonely at times. Anthar thought about it for some time, then decided he would go and check out the clan. Greyville was only 5 hours drive away, and he didn't find any new werewolf tracks anyway.

The clan was a good bunch of people. Their leader, James, was very experienced and was a good leader too. Anthar was tired of being lonely with no one to talk to and he needed some cash for his gas and beer, so he decided to join them. Pretty cool to be part of a clan anyway.

[Manticore]

Name: Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester

Age: 29

Appearance:

Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf

If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega? Alpha

Background:
Morgana had always been an odd child. Unlike the other girls, she didn't care about the dolls and pretty dresses. She enjoyed spending her time with boys in the nearby forest. Hunting, fighting, building things...that was her definition of fun. Her father was an alcoholic, and he often took a swing at her and her mother. Morgana hated them both, equally. Father for his violence, and mother for her cowardness. She promised herself that one day she would put an end to all of this. Hanging out with the boys eventually made her stronger, and fearless to a fault, but nothing could equip her for vengeance better than what happened to her on one August's full moon night. She made a bet with the boys that she dares to walk across the forest alone, using only moonlight to light the way. She never thought she would be in danger out there. After all, the woods have been her second home. The place of joy, laughter, and freedom. She knew all the creatures that lived there, from a giant stag to a grumpy boar. But she had no idea that the forest had welcomed a new visitor. It all happened in a second. The sound of growling, ripping, screaming… And then nothing but silent darkness.

She never learnt who was the werewolf that turned her that night. He left her alone in the woods, where she was later found by the local hunters, who took her to the hospital. She was badly wounded, but odly enough, her wounds had healed pretty fast. In just a few days time, she was back home with her parents, but the reunion wasn't quite like she anticipated. Her father hit her in the face, bloodying her nose, for she was misbehaving and needed to be punished. However, It was the last thing he did. Morgana's eyes flared up like fire, and then she throw herself at the old man and began to hit him again and again and again, until the voice of her mother's screaming brought her back to her senses. Upon seeing what she had done, she fled the house, and never returned.

For almost a decade, she roamed the country looking for answers. She met a few packs, and even joined some for a while, but after witnessing too many werewolves being slaughtered by a hunter due to a bad leadership, she decided to create a family of her own. Starting with Ryan, the member of one of those failed packs, called the the Topeka pack. She practically snatched him away from Jared, the pack's alpha', after thoroughly showing them how she felt about their ways. So she had one wolf following around, but she knew that, finding and collecting the lost puppies wouldn't be as easy as joining the already established pack (even though the kind of pack she'd feel confortable in wasn't easy to find). So, after moving to California, she soon found the trail on the newest pack that was in need of another female alpha. The previous one had been killed off by a hunter, and the pack was left chaotic after that. Since the past had shaped her into being a natural leader, with a strong sense for community, she soon claimed her place.

With her parents both dead (her mother killed herself after witnessing Morgana's outrage) and having no other siblings, she would do anything to protect her current pack. They are her only family. Her strength and her weakness. As a leader she can be as motherly as she can be cold and brutal. She is respected for her fairness, cunningness, and fearlessness. She would stand no tratiors, and would advice anyone, who wanted to take her place, to think about it twice. For their own sake.

[NanixErka]

First Character
Name: Carlson Jakes

Age: 26

Appearance:
I might update this

Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf

If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega? Alpha

Background: Carlson was born a werewolf in Tennesee to two betas at a complex in Memphis. His parents saw that the alpha of their pack was ineffective (as they were stubborn and unable to accept change), so the family severed their ties to the pack, and left for California, where they knew of a sizable pack near San Francisco. They got to California, and were eagerly accepted into the pack. As Carlson grew, the alpha of the pack saw his potential and had him trained as an Omega, which he had practically perfected by the age of twenty. But on a hunt during the full moon, the alpha of the pack was gravely injured by hunters, and before the entire pack, he declared Carlson the new alpha, shocking everyone. He's been at the job for almost 6 years now, and has been doing a pretty good job, having the highest pack survival rate in California. Carlson has shown himself to be resourceful, smart, and a perfect match for alpha, despite his age. He is also very accepting and understands that if the werewolf population is to recover even slightly, turning people is necessary. He's a kind person who just wants the best for his people, and no one truly understands how far he is willing to go.

[gogojakeo]

Name: Stíofán ó Faoláin (English: Stephen Whelan)

Age: 28

Appearance:
Stephen stands at 6 foot 7 inches (200.66cm), and has medium length, ginger hair. He also has a ginger beard, which he keeps at a medium length. He has pale skin, and is quite muscular. On his left arm he was a tattoo sleeve that he got whilst travelling. The sleeve has a shamrock on it, underneath saying the phrase "Níl aon tinteán mar do thinteán féin", written in a green, Celtic, font. There are also tattoos of: a catholic cross, another quote saying "Only God can judge me", a stem, that splits into two large, wilted, back roses, and a smaller, similarly black and wilted rose, a tattoo of the state of California next to the Republic of Ireland, a hand holding an arrow, and the Irish flag, with the edges dissolving into the skin. His musculature is slightly defined. He also has a scar along his right upper arm from when he was attacked.

Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf

If werewolf: Beta

Background:
Stephen grew up in Ireland, speaking Irish as a first language, with English as a second. When he was 21, he moved away to see the world, and then settled down with a friend in California when his family died in a car crash when he was 23. Being Irish, this was not perfect for him, and he was thinking of moving back to Ireland, but was attacked when he went out one night in the dark by a werewolf at the age of 25. Two months later, his friend who he lived then said that he was moving cross country, and Stephen moved into the apartments with the other werewolves. Since joining the pack, Stíofán has always had the feeling that Carlson didn't like him.

[Gwynbleidd]

Name: Fayth "Fay" Morrow

Age: 23

Appearance:

Dyed Hair Look

Natural Look

Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf

If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega

Background:

Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul.

Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth’s father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness.

The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of “The Black.” With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of ‘wolf’ within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction.

Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn’t be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father’s claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror.

Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn’t get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever.

She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn’t been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went.

At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights.

She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery.

The woman of many faces.

Who she has met, how it happened:

Avery
Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days.

Carlson
Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan.

Mori
If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life.

Ryan
A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.

[CallaLily]

~°~°~

Name
Avery

~°~°~

Age
Twenty-Five

~°~°~

Appearance
Avery is a natural brunnette with long flowing hair. Her lips are a nice color of pink, although they are thin. She has grey eyes and healthy, smooth skin. She stands at 5'8 and weighs about 120lbs. You will find Avery wearing a lot of tank tops, jeans, and all around casual clothes. She has a few piercings here and there, one on her belly button that she always wears, and another on her nose which she prefers to keep out. If you manage to sneak a peek at her body, you'll see a tattoo on her ribs, saying 'Be the one to guide me, but never hold me down.'

~°~°~

Human, Werewolf, Or Hunter?
Avery is an average human being, with little to lose.

~°~°~

What Is Your Life Like?
Avery lives a simple life that no one else would trade for. Though she was given away and treated roughly, she has always managed to smile through her pain and has tried to be a social person.

~°~°~

History
Avery was born to two rough parents. Her mom would tell her almost every day how she was a mistake, and her father would ignore her all together. She grew up in solitude, never really getting attached to anyone around her, which proved to be a good thing later in life.

At the age of sixteen, Avery's parents put her up for adoption, in a small orphanage that was full of younger children. Since Avery was so old compared to the others, she never managed to get adopted, and at the age of eighteen she was kicked out of the orphanage with little money and no place to go.

In the span of two years, she managed to stand on her own two feet, with a small job as a waitress and a rented apartment she called 'home'. She never tried to settle down with anyone, always deciding that if she did, she would end up getting hurt. So she tried to stay as secluded as possible, without as many friends as she wanted.

Lately, Avery has been paying more attention to the conversations going on in the restaurant, because more people have been coming in for a warm place to stay. She's snuck past tables, hearing whispers from men and women about "Dangers in the night," and "dog attacks." Avery has always been rather curious about these sorts of conversations, and she finds herself thinking about them late at night. It was interesting how people would talk in hushed tones, and then when she came to take their orders they would be all loud and awkward. She was starting to piece little bits of information together, but she didn't want to seem crazy, and never talked about it with the few friends she had.

Relationships
Fayth: Avery works at the same restaurant as Fayth Morrow, and is kind of concerned about her clumsy attitude. They pull night shifts together, and yet they never hang out exclusively.

Werewolves in general: Avery works at the bar where all the wolves gather, and She has noticed that before every full moon, the same group comes down to the bar.

[NanixErka]

Name: Nanix Erka

Age: 23

Appearance:

Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Human to be Turned

If human, what is your life like? Parents died in a horrific accident. Suffers from a form of PTSD and irrational fears of forests (which kind of sucks for her but oh well). She works as a fashion model and photography model (working nights at bars). Its a lonely existence, but at least its a living

Background: As said above, her parents died in a horrific "accident" (She calls it that because she doesn't want people to ask) that led to an irrational fear of forests and forested places- which is why she lives in the heart of the city right near the werewolf apartment building. She works at a bar down the street that she doesn't know is frequented by the Weres, and Carlson has been contemplating sending someone to scope her out- as her demanding presence and kind nature would make her a great omega. For now though, she works as a model by day and bartender by night

[gogojakeo]

Name: James Matherson

Age: 32

Appearance:


James is six foot two, and has slightly above average muscular definition.

Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Hunter

If hunter: Were you born into it or did you become one by choice? James was born into a hunter clan.

Background: James was born into a hunter clan, and has been training since he was sixteen. When he was 28, his father was killed, and he became the head of the clan, and promised vengeance, and to kill all werewolves with no mercy. He recruited more hunters, including all of those in Greyville.

[Traitor]

Name: Jesse Williams

Age: 24

Appearance:


Human, werewolf or hunter?: Beta Werewolf

Background:
Jesse was born as a werewolf and raised as a werewolf, with all the hardships of being the youngest cub in the pack.

She was the last 'naturally' born member of her old pack and thus lived a life at the low end of the pecking order for more than twenty years. This majorly contributed to her bully-esque character and the rebellious demeanor that comes with it.

Jesse's old pack was essentially the werewolf equivalent to human gypsies. They wandered between cities frequently, always claiming a set 'turf' for a while before moving on to the next city or town. They were loud and aggressive and drawing general attention required them to change locations before people asked too many questions. As one would expect, an almost permanently drunk crowd of rowdy werewolves didn't interact in the smoothest ways with other packs, so fights with other covenants were not unheard of. After building a bad reputation among their kin for some years, warm welcomes from other packs were somewhat rare. The pack eventually dissolved when their alphas fell to rebelling omegas, and said omegas succumbed to their injuries afterwards. With nobody to lead the pack, they fell apart in less than a month and scattered in all directions.

During her time at the wandering pack, Jesse always was the weakest link. She was never physically weak, on the contrary - being bullied by a pack of aggressive and highly violent werewolves put her in a fairly well-conditioned state. However, she lacked a certain finesse, the dexterity to use her power for anything more than a pair of bone-breaking fists. Her defense against her fellows lacked unpredictability or skill, she never made it past being a brutal thug and this pack lacked all forms of benevolence, so nobody trained her. In the past, new werewolves were born into the pack who would take over the position of the general 'victim', but the digress of werewolf birth damned Jesse to a life at the bottom of the food chain. As a result of twenty years worth of punishment for being the youngest cub, she turned into a fairly violent, erratic slugger herself. Being superior to humans only, she let off all the steam from being subdued on human street gangs and thugs. She always tries to act reasonably 'human' around them - masking her unnaturally strong punches by using baseball bats for example, broken bones from a bat swing are a lot less unusual than from a casual backhand after all. Mostly taking it out on gangs also let her avoid unnecessary attention, police forces never really care when the victims of a brawl have comprehensive criminal records. Despite all the precaution, she has a few murder-stains on her slate, none of which can be connected to her directly though. Another feature she gained during her time at the wandering pack is the affection for her 'turf'. To this day, she considers the area she lives in as her property and takes the right to represent the law. In other words, to beat shady characters into a bloody pulp at will. This and her general fixation on human interaction (playing 'gang wars' with the lesser creatures and such) is usually met with disapproval from other wolves. It also gets her in trouble frequently as it draws attention of less benevolent wolf packs or hunters. Beyond her highly ranked position in human gang interactions, she's still a lowlife in werewolf society. Jesse is a coward that doesn't hesitate to switch to the winning side in times of conflict. She's the kind of person who instigates mutiny, stays out of the actual fight and then gangs up on the already defeated party. Though she has little more to offer than brute force in a combat scenario, she's by no means stupid and constantly tries to manipulate people around her for her own advantage.

After the downfall of the wandering pack, Jesse lived alone and on the streets for a while. She didn't really encourage the humans to, but a gang formed around her. Mostly just cowardish thugs who hid behind the seemingly insane but undefeatable woman, but Jesse never discouraged them either and enjoyed being admired for a change. It sure was a hell of a lot better than being on the receiving end all the time, she thought. Coincidentally, the area she poached in at the time was Greyville. The resident pack noticed her puppetry with the humans and approached her eventually. In order to minimize the chaos Jesse could cause and driven by the omnipresent decline in birth rate, they negotiated her joining the pack. A crucial condition was that she would dissolve her gang and swear to never join or form one ever again. A condition that didn't exclude the option to wreak havoc on human lowlife every now and then.

Coming from a pack that didn't put any value in cohesion and only coexisted for the sense of security a group of wolves offers, Jesse doesn't quite fit into the greyville pack. While she respects the alphas and obeys most omegas, she spends most of her time interacting with the pack in petty fights. Most notably, she got into a scuffle with Fay at some point that didn't end in her favor. The woman even joined the pack right afterwards, as an omega no less, setting the stage for an exemplary hate-love relationship. With a heavy focus on the hate-part.

[Inertia]

Name: Thomas Young

Age: 21

Appearance:

Thomas

There is a notable scar, that runs the length of his left arm, this is due to a hunt that almost took his life.

Human, werewolf, or hunter?:
Hunter

If hunter:
Both, explained in the background.

Background:
Growing up without a mother, he always questioned his father at why he never talked about her, only to be given a cold glare and ignored. Always perturbed by this, he grew to somewhat dislike his father, nevertheless he still depended on him, at the tender age of 15 his father started training him on the art of killing 'werewolves.' Believing werewolves to be a children's tale, he questioned his father, he finally caved and talked about his mother, through tears and snot, he explained at how his mother died being attacked by one of those things, it mauled and tore away at the mother, while claiming that it was grinning the whole time, the werewolf let the father live for some odd reason, left with the task of raising his 5 year old son, Thomas, to himself. Thus the father took the mantle of becoming a Hunter, with the sole vengeance of hunting that one 'fucking werewolf, with the scar beneath its left eye' Fully taken aback by this, he started to follow his fathers training more rigorously, and in time, be more proficient than his father.

His father disappeared one night, and Thomas knew why, one misstep with a werewolf encounter could very well end your life. Vengeance seeped into his very being, the same vengeance his father had. Weeks and weeks he had tried to look for this werewolf with the scar beneath his left eye, after months and even years of fruitless leads, he finally found 'it'. It appears that the werewolf would appear in this warehouse, the reason wasn't given to him as to why, but he didn't care he simply wanted revenge. Thomas set up traps in the area where the lead was found, from razor-sharp strings to silver-laced traps. He set up meat in order to try and lure the fucker into the trap. Everything was ready for this encounter.

Hours of waiting, the Werewolf finally showed up, enticed by the smell, Thomas made sure the fucker was the same one who killed both his parents, taking a quick glance over he saw the visible scar directly under the Left eye. Finally confirming this was 'the' werewolf. He set his plan in motion, after a few minutes he heard a trap go off, and quickly rushed to find that the trap has been set off, but there was nothing there. Wide eyed, he looked around and found nothing, suddenly a seeping pain entered his left shoulder and ran down to his hand. The werewolf has jumped up to one of the support beams right before the trap went off, searing in pain, he was thrown back to a pile of metal rods, and sat there, bleeding to death. The werewolf, smuggishly grinning, it then started to walk towards him, chest stuck out "Like father, like son." It uttered in a condescending tone. Suddenly, a bag of wolfsbane poured onto the werewolf, one of his contingency traps had activated. The werewolf screamed in pain and agony. Using the last of his strength, he grabbed a silver knife that his father had handed down to him, the night before he died, and slashed across it's neck. He slashed a few more times with the strength he had left, and finally it stopped struggling, it died with a groan.

Collapsing on the floor from succumbing to his injuries, he had finally finished the job that his father couldn't, content with dying there he gave himself a stupid smile, he closed his eyes.

Luckily, he was found by a hunter, who was tracking the same werewolf, and was saved by 'a hairs breadth'. He woke up in a Hospital, "Guess God has other things planned for me." he utters before collapsing again.

Relationships:
Anthar Raclaw: "Ah him, well, he did save my life after all and I owe him. He also introduced me to the 'clan' and again I am very grateful, but something about him seems off, it seems that he wants to eradicate all werewolves till he drops, which I don't share the testament."

James Matherson: "Big honcho, big man, leader of the clan. He seems like a pretty chill guy, but my guts telling me he's hiding something under that... smile. I can't really say anything else since I just met him a couple of times."

Sierra D. Lovett: "Seems like one of those closed of gals, I would bet that she's pretty passionate and somethin' in her past happened that she couldn't control. Pretty fun to talk around, she's opening up."

[CallaLily]

Name
Sierra D. Lovett

Age
Twenty-Seven

Appearance
Sierra has light brown skin, and long arms and legs. She has brown short cut hair for maneuverability, though if she grows it out it looks fairy curly at the ends. Her skin is rough and calloused, both from fighting werewolves and taking care of the farm. She is 6'0-as height runs in her family-, which makes her taller than most women. She weighs 145lbs, and has brown eyes.

Human, Werewolf, Or Hunter?
Sierra is the fourth generation of Hunter in her bloodline.

Were You Born Into It?
Sierra was born into being a hunter.

History
Sierra grew up like any normal child, with the exception of her intense weapons training. Throughout her life, she has had the knowledge of werewolves. Hunting has kept her strong, and it has kept her family together. Sierra knew weapons and strategies better than she did most of her close friends. And until she was fifteen, she savored this life.

Her family kept a farm, with a two story farmhouse and a large red barn you'd see in movies, where they raised animals, planned attacks, and kept their weaponry. One night, a week after Sierra's fifteenth birthday, her family heard of a nest of werewolves that they decided they would take care of. They left Sierra alone at the large farm, because of the danger that this mission could hold.

Only one of her family members returned. Her older grandfather, who told her of the unexpected numbers in the pack, and the planned counterattack. Sierra was heartbroken, and after that, she was almost never the same. Instead of being a cheerful, fun-loving teen, she grew a hard shell. She decided that she would spend her free time training, and taking care of her grandfather.

When Sierra turned twenty, her grandfather fell ill. She did her best to save him, but he didn't want to be saved. So when he died he left Sierra with a small amount of money, and a ton of grief. Sierra was alone with her farm animals, in a house that was far too big for one person.

Later on in life, Sierra discovered more hunters like her. She joined up with them, and was able to start making new friends.

Other
Weapons: Silver Bow /w Arrows & Dagger
Clothing: Cloak & Armor

Relationships
James: James found Sierra shortly after her grandfather died, and he told her he had a place in the main group of hunters. "I like James, he took me in when I was down, and he told me how to fix my problems. I'll follow him, but I think he needs to be more sincere."

Anthar:

[Remus]

ignore this post of mine >-<"

[Raining]

Name: Yvette Stowe

Age: 21

Appearance:
Yvette takes the appearance of a tall girl, being about 6 feet with messy brown/blonde hair and pale skin. She has a rather morning dew look to her and her eyes are constantly applied with makeup since she has grown quite attached to materialistic possessions. Without the eye makeup she has noticeably smaller eyes with dark circles from her lack of sleep. Though she has a rather jittery appearance, Yvette is actually quite lax and laid back.

Species/Occupation: Hunter

Background:
They lived blissfully unaware of their surroundings, as happy as an average middle class family could be. What more could they want? They had everything; A house by the country side, two children, and a family pet to fill in that last missing hole in their heart.
It was all so perfect, so perfect that even Yvette's parents sensed something was off... Yet they continued on, swimming in their ignorance and skipping on with life.
Yvette was an average girl, with average grades, an average lifestyle, and an average family. She would always come home from school to greet her mother and father, whom would sit at the porch, anticipating the arrival of their precious children. Her mother was a simple nurse, while her father was a plumber. Though their jobs weren't too great, they made enough to keep their family happy and healthy.
When had it happened? She didn't remember... But what she did remember were the faces of her parents as she was shoved away into the tight crevices of the basement stairs. It... Whatever it was, had decided to prey on her family. Her family that was just unlucky on that fateful night.
She and her brother were discovered by investigators covered in their own vomit and urine, both children a sobbing mess. Her brother, barely being 3 years old had already been traumatized by the events that took place at their home.
Thankfully, their uncle Roger took them in. Yvette's father warned her about him, how he was schizophrenic, and did odd things. But it turned out that his ramblings had ended up to be true, and what actually killed her parents was an adult werewolf.
Revenge is what she had wanted, and so that is what her uncle had given her. She was trained underneath his wing, and soon prospered and surpassed that old crazy fool.
When she was old enough, she left her brother in the care of her aunt, and went elsewhere to put her skills to use.

Relationships:Dimitri Kozlov and Thomas Young: supposedly all of their relationships started in Alaska. She had ran into both of them leaving the state, when she was rather curious what their business was waddling about so late, she had decided to tag along on their adventures, seeing as they had somewhat common goals.

[Tip]

Name: Anton N. Vladiscnir

Age: 26

Appearance: The clothes are weird so ignore them please. ^^

Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf

If werewolf: Beta

Background: Anton was born into the Greyville Pack, but her personality and strength were still assessed before she was put as an omega wolf; for safety precautions. Considered level-headed and quite strong, she landed herself the rank. When Anton turned 18 - well, let's say, she got into a spot of "bother". The night of a full moon she was out at the pub (thinking it was the night before!) and, you guessed it, she transformed. It was her that convinced the villagers that there were werewolves living in the forest. Obviously, werewolves don't live in the forest, but even so, a pact of werewolf hunters were called in, bringing us to present day. The Alphas of the pack soon found out the true story, based from eye witnesses, and demoted Anton from her original status as Omega to Beta. She lost all her friends -- one of her friends was killed. Anton fell into a state of wading sorrow, close to depression.

[Remus]

Name: Kalib Xeer
(pronounced like Caleb)

Age: 21

Appearance:

Kalib

Kalib is 6 feet tall even. Being lean, fairly built and well-toned for running. He's relatively strong and can hold his own in a fight. Even though his eyes are green in the picture, they actually shift colors on occasion (usually between different blues and greens). His hair is ashy brown and styled almost like a pompadour, though it often gets messed up and is poorly taken care of. Though mostly unnoticeable, he has scars on his right forearm and under his left arm from when he was turned.

Human, werewolf, or hunter?: werewolf

If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega? omega

Background:
Born and raised in Los Angeles, California, Kalib had a pretty easy-going life. He wasn't very good in his subject in school and was bullied pretty often by some guys on the school's football team. When he realized he couldn't fight off his aggressors, he oped to learn how to outrun them by joining track. As the years went on, he got really good at track and became the captain of the cross country team. Things got pretty complicated in high school when he started learn about himself and, well, there were certain things he couldn't tell his very conservative parents. Near the end of senior year, Kalib decided to come out to his parents and things didn't go as he planned. He figured that since he was going to be leaving home anyway that it wouldn't have mattered if they knew but. . . . In the end he was kicked out. He took his car and decided to drive to his friends' house a town away but he ran out of gas and had to walk to find help. While on his walk he was attacked by a rogue werewolf and wasn't able to escape. After all that Kalib couldn't go back to his family and friends, instead leaving California for some time to understand what happened and learn about the werewolf communities. While he was gone, his parents and friends put out a search for him, only to find his car and a lot of blood in the woods nearby. The police concluded it was an animal attack and Kalib is presumed dead by his loved ones.

The first year was the toughest, as he didn't know the ropes of Werewolf society and was pretty afraid every time the full moon came around. But eventually he got a grasp of things and embraces his werewolf side, becoming confident again and almost back to how he was before the turn. Now, after 3 years of being away, Kalib has come back to his home state. He's recently joined the Were community in Greyville and is excited to be starting a new life.

[Asuu]

Dimitri Kozlov

Name: Dimitri Kozlov

Age: 23

Appearance: Dimitri is a tall, muscular young man, his physique stream-lined and chiseled from years upon years of arduous training and physical exercise. His face is considered 'handsome', with a clearly defined jawline, and strong cheekbones. A minor scuffle could be seen dusting his face, a natural dirty blonde, the exact same as his hair - which is naturally cut short to his head, to avoid anyone gripping it in a fight. His eyes, however, are a dark blue, almost appearing black in different pieces of sunlight. Multiple long, pale scars on evident on his torso and back, with the most prominent one being the three deep, jagged marks scraping across his chest and down his abs. Generally wears a thick, form-fitting, dark-colored long-sleeved shirt, rugged jeans, and combat boots, along with a leather jacket thrown over it, sewn in with Kevlar. Can never be too careful, and he's pretty used to cold and hot temps.

Species/Occupation: Human/Hunter

Background: Dimitri was born in Moscow, Russia, underneath two war-weathered parents; Aleksandr Kozlov, and Marie Kozlov. His father was a veteran from the Spetznaz forces, while his mother was a former soldier in the Marines, having been honorably discharged after a grenade ended with her left arm being torn to shreds. How the two managed to find love in each other, Dimitri would never know; while his father was strict, gruff, cold, and incredibly ruthless in the training of Dimitri, his mother was soft, kind, and gentle, always there with warm treats and cold bottles of water. That's another thing...his training.

Aleksandr Kozlov was both a Spetznaz veteran, and a former Werewolf-Hunter, having to retire from both due to old age, and PTSD. While this made the man quite brutal, it also made him force Dimitri to follow into his footsteps - and not for a bad reason, either. Werewolves - specifically, feral ones - were dangerous, this Dimitri knew from a young age. At first, up to the age of seven, he didn't know what he was training for. His father always made him do pushups, squats, and sprints down the snow-frozen road whenever he was awake and not eating/hydrating, always stopping and limiting the repetitions so that it was just under enough to not have any effect on Dimitri's physical growth. Weapons training and close quarters combat had already began, back when he was six.

Pistols, assault rifles, shotguns...he was a crackshot, naturally skilled in any firearm that was brought before him. Obviously, he was kept to smaller, less destructive weaponry, as his relatively small stature - albeit big for his age - would make it incredibly difficult and inefficient to train with. Krav Maga; it's basic stances and attacks were taught to him as his 'main' chosen fighting style, although it was more along the lines of his father forcing it upon him. When he turned eight, he was brought on his first 'mock mission', which wasn't a mock mission at all.

His father had tracked down a wandering, feral werewolf that preyed on cattle and smaller children that would wander away from their parents, in the park. Seeing his father rip open the werewolf's chest, and give him the silver knife...Dimitri was confused. Sorely confused. But when he saw the corpses of the children, he plunged the dagger down without hesitation. That was the start.

Years passed, and Dimitri was trained with the brutality of a Demon from hell. He became an immensely capable marksman, a master of Krav Maga, and extremely competent and lethal when it came to the art of fighting with melee weapons - he began taking Werewolf Hunting missions at the age of twelve, going for the Werewolves that was blatantly harming others due to lack of mental awareness, or general insanity and love for violence. Life continued on like this, with Dimitri becoming a strong, intelligent, brave young man that did what he had to do in his forced line of work. His mother had passed away due to an illness - something that affected Dimitri greatly, and seemed to inspire his father's fiery ire even more. Finally, the man keeled over from a stress-filled cardiac arrest, on Dimitri's twentieth birthday.

Ever since then, Dimitri has been travelling the globe, always on the case whenever reports of wild werewolf attacks sprung up, or whenever mysterious sightings or murders breezed the grapevine.

Relationships: Thomas Young...Dimitri's partner. They met in Alaska, while Dimitri was hunting a group of feral Werewolves. It was an...interesting predicament, with Thomas managing to stop Dimitri from executing an innocent female Werewolf that had been planning on escaping her wild, out of controlled friends. Yvette was picked up, as his second partner, as they were leaving the frozen state.

It snowballed from there.

[Wintergrey]

Name: Olive "Live" Bones

Age: 17

Appearance:

Human, werewolf, or hunter?: newly turned werewolf

If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega? beta

Background: Live grew up poor, raised by her single mother with two jobs. The conditions of their apartment was terrible and often times Live was forced to go the night hungry. Despite this, however, she was a bubbly girl, full of energy. She always looked to people as a possible friend she could make and in response everyone was naturally drawn to her. She had no trouble finding the good in a situation despite everything.

One night while Live was sleeping, she was awoken by a loud thumping at the door to the apartment. Sitting up straight in her bed she stared at her door wondering if it had just been a figment of her imagination. After not hearing anything for a moment she started drifting back into the tendrils of sleep. And then suddenly there came another thump, this time louder. It was closely followed by a scratching sound, like claws running down a piece of wood. Once again Live sat up and stared at the door, her heart thumped faster and faster.

A muted shout came from behind the door, she sound of her moms voice. The terrifying sounds that had just occurred intensified. Her mother screamed and another loud thump could be heard reverberating through the walls. Live shook under the threadbare blanket that covered her, still watching the door that protected her from whatever monster awaited on the other side. Slowly the handle creaked open. Ducking her head, Live tucked her head under the blanket.

The next thing she knew she was on her knees outside in the cold night. Before her was a large bonfire, with shadowed figures, some human, some not. On the other side of the fire was a truck with a man standing in the bed looking at her. Immediately adrenaline began to pump through her veins at an accelerated pace. Terrified she looked for a place to run, but could not find an opening in the circle of figures around the fire. She couldn't even stand due to the rope tying her hands and legs together. All she could do was sit there and stare in fear.

The man on the truck stepped forward, standing on the edge of the truck bed. His head was covered in a hood that shrouded his face in shadows. His voice rolled out deep and angry, "We werewolves are the superior race! We are stronger, faster, deadlier! And yet these hunters, these meek humans have decimated us! They have forced us into hiding!" With every sentence the crowd cheered him on. "Last night a member of our pack was killed by these hunters and so, tonight, we take one of theirs and make them our own!" Everyone shouted and yelled out in excitement, the wolves prowling next to the men howled to the moon overhead.

Launching himself from the truck bed, over the fire, the man landed in front of Live. Immediately she recoiled as if shot. "P-p-please don't hurt me. I-I-I'm innocent." Now that he was closer Live could see more of his face, just enough to see him smile and say, "None of us are innocent, not any more." With that he moved forward with lightening speed and turned her.

[DizzyIsabella]

Name: Amelia "Millie" Hollingsworth

Age: 22

Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf

If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega? Beta - Brand new to the pack

Background

Raised in Atlanta, Georgia, Millie Hollingsworth was a true southern belle. Born, raised and loved by a large, happy family, she wanted neither for love or attention. She blossomed in confidence from a young age, feisty and stubborn, just like the women who came before her. She got good grades, had plenty of friends and plenty of male attention. Her life was perfect, up until the age of seventeen.

Sneaking home on night from a house party, having been dropped off at the small town welcome sign, the dark hadn't worried her as she walked, afterall, nothing bad ever happened in her little slice of paradise, apart from the occasional stray football breaking a window, or the occasional group of teenagers gaining a slap on the wrist for sharing a few beers in the back of a truck. A rogue, loner werewolf had stalked her through the undergrowth, waiting until a dark bend to attack her, leaving her for either dead, or to transition, he hadn't cared, as long as he'd got what he wanted.

It was a cruel fate, and her life darkened in the months that followed. She withdrew from her friends and family, becoming cold and dismissive. Her grades dropped, her family despaired. At the age of eighteen, she left home, breaking off ties with her already distant family, disappearing away in the middle of the night.

She wandered through the states of the county, mostly keeping to herself, only socialising with other groups of werewolves to gain information, or for safety. She rarely let her guard down, keeping her quiet, almost cold exterior. She was still sweet underneath, only those closest to her seeing her real personality. She had to be able to hold her own, her stubborn, headstrong southern nature still thriving. She was usually a flight risk, leaving the groups she'd felt too close with without warning, needing to regularly move on. She always worried she'd cross the werewolf who'd turned her, or worse, hunters.

The thought of the release of death tempted her often, but she wasn't about to be finished by some hundreth generation pretty boy who thought he was owed the world because of his hunter lineage, or worse, the same breed, but female, that would've been too humiliating.

She soon grew tired of moving around so much, and managed to gain the trust of her current pack. She worked hard as pianist at a local resteraunt, putting her youth-learnt talents to use, and brought in good money to the pack house. When life felt a little stale for her, there was usually some kind of brawl to keep her entertained.

[Metronome]

Name: Luca Petulengro
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Nationality: Roma/German/Mixed

Species: Unsuspecting human

Occupation: Head priest and owner of a small Catholic church.

Personality: Luca is a gentle man. He loves people. His passion for helping others and his need to share the light of God often combine. He can be found working at homeless shelters on Saturdays, passing out soup and kind words. He lives at his church, along with anyone else who needs a place to stay.

His personality is humble and kind. He can be taken at face value, hiding no secret agendas or lies. Luca is very much the man he appears to be. He couldn't tell a lie if he wanted to.

He has no opinion on the werewolf/hunter war, mostly because he's unaware of it. Even if he did know about the whole situation, he would likely remain neutral.

Other: The church was passed to him by the former priest, who had been something of a father figure to Luca. With it being a fairly small church, Luca is the only priest in the clergy. He holds morning sermons on Sunday and night sermons on Wednesday, where the doors are left open for anyone and dinner is served for free.

He speaks with a soft German accept.

Upon becoming a Catholic priest, Luca took a vow of celibacy. He has chosen to live a life of chastity and unmarriage, so that he would have no earthly distractions from God and his church.

Appearance: Luca is a very average man. He stands at 5'9" with dark brown hair, light tan skin, and brown eyes. He is of Roma and European decent, being a mix between the two. His clothes are very humble, consisting of dress pants or jeans on most days of the week and collared shirts. On Sunday and Wednesday, he dons the iconic priests' robes to preach.

History:

Luca came from a hard beginning. His family was a group of Romani that traveled the European countrysides. When they came into town to sell and buy, they were often met with discrimination and hate. Most places put up with them until they left, but it was when they reached a small town in Germany that their band was met with brutal forces. The mayor of the town called the police on them, having them arrested and shipped from the country.

Some of Luca's family fled, and some were captured and removed. But in the chaos, Luca was separated from them. At the tender age of 9, the boy was left to fend for himself. He quickly left the town that had attacked his family, afraid that they may hurt or even kill him. Luca wandered until he found a new, larger city to settle in. There, he lived on the streets until he was 15. A farmer approached him, offering him work in return for food and shelter. He had no intent on paying Luca, making the transaction completely illegal and slavery by definition. But Luca was desperate, so he agreed.

Luca worked long days on the farm, doing anything asked of him until his body and muscles hurt. He lived in the barn and ate whatever leftovers were brought to him. Although he was no longer freezing to death or starving, he was still miserable. The farmhands took to mocking and tormenting him, calling him a dirty gypsy while he did their work. If Luca ever tried to defend himself, he was typically knocked around until he learned to keep his mouth shut.

He endured for several years, until he was 18, when a couple of Christian missionaries happened to come to the farm. They saw the boy in such poor living conditions, and couldn't stand to leave him there. By this point, Luca had become so accustom to his loss of freedom that when the farmer refused to relinquish him to the missionaries, he didn't even fight it. It didn't occur to him that he didn't actually belong to the farmer and his awful workers.

The missionaries went to the law. Police came to the farm and demanded that Luca be set free, eventually arresting the farmer for unlawful imprisonment and treatment of his employee. After speaking with the boy, the missionaries convince Luca to come back to America with them, where he wouldn't face such cruelty and discrimination. They brought him to the church, where he learned to speak English and live like a real person. It took him a while to come out of his shell, but with gentle coaxing, Luca came to regard the clergy as his family.

With the oldest priest's help, Luca studied to become a priest himself. He was passionate about helping those who lived on the streets, like he once had. His kindness and drive made him very well accepted as the new head priest when the elder passed.