Ardent
01-25-14, 03:39 PM
Name: Lyra Garet
Age: 22
Race: Shifter
Hair Color: Dirty blond streaked with Coffee Locks
Eye Color: Green
Height: 5’4
Weight: 120 lb
Occupation : Bounty Hunter
Personality:
Lyra is pessimistic and riddled with demons that she has yet to acknowledge. She interacts with people out of need and a strict abhorrence to the entire situation. Can turn belligerent in a moment’s notice. Often goes off by instinct, which can be conflicting as her instinct shifts as much as her physical shape does.
Appearance:
When in human form, Lyra has emerald green eyes which stand out boldly from her olive tanned skinned face. Her dirty blond hair with permanent streaks of coffee, grows out a lot faster than she likes; which results in alternating homemade hair styles… when she doesn’t butcher it with a pair of rusty scissor or anything underhand with a sharp edge.
Generally keeping to a low profile, Lyra wears soft leather boots, tough leather riding pants, with a loose sleeveless cotton green shirt. All of which is covered by a riding cloak, often with the hood drawn up to cover her easily distinguishable hair.
Skills:
Taunting: From years of making enemies, Lyra knows what would push a person’s buttons. She lacks finesse, and instead of pushing one button she slams the whole hand down blindly and sees what gets the best reaction.
Tactical strike: Lyra has gained a one sided anatomical knowledge of both animals and humans and knows where to hit where it will hurts the most. This knowledge was gain from both sides of delivering and receiving such strikes.
Survival Instincts: Innate instinct for fight or flight. Will fight when determines that it would end the conflict faster, but will flee when tides turn. When seriously injured will turn feral and systemically will seek shelter and safety to recover.
Abilities:
Partial Shapeshifting: Due to her past Lyra cannot take the full shape of an animal, instead when her emotions are heightened specific features will deform to animal likeness, such as her eyes will turn into feline slits, which in turn can provide the heightened senses in high stress situations.
Heightened senses: The longer Lyra spends in any one animal form, she regains more of their traits for longer periods of time, the last to leave is the sensory improvement attained from that animal. When in human form Lyra’s sense will be marginally improved as opposed to her animal form which will retain improvements from previous shifts along with that animal’s primary sense.
Agility: Due to her small size and lack of clucky standard armor, Lyra can move quickly and silently. Resorting to using her offensive quick assault as a defense, her strategy is to never let the enemy have a chance to strike.
Equipment:
When in human form, Lyra tends to favor the less honest of approaches to combat, showing affinivity for stilettos daggers tipped with poison for sneak attacks. However when cornered Lyra will switch over to her morning star hanging from her hip to make up for her lack of brute strength required in close combat. The morning star was chosen over the mace due to the use of wood in the base shaft of the weapon lowering the weight of the item. Due to the use of the wooden the weapon is rarely used for a parrying attack, rather it’s used as a surprise attack initiated when her opponent gets too close for her comfort.
History:
A single distant howl pierced through the darkened valley. A chilling reminder to the inhabitants of the town nestled comfortably between two mountains that they were not alone. Minutes later an answer resonated from the other end of the valley, answering the call of its kin. Before the hour was over, two four legged shadows skulked into the town. A town that was far from quiet and sleepy.
Here, the day only brought work and strict adherence to moral codes, none of which were present at night. While the small minority of the good natured folk, closed their doors and lumbered of to sleep the rest sought out the pleasure that only the night could bring. The bustle of the town was in full swing, the lights shown bright in the windows of the establishments that offered nightly entertainments and pleasures.
An inebriated fellow stumbled out of a building, the doors swinging and unleashing the bright light that burned within before being recaptured by the wooden enclosure. He was standing beneath the swinging sign that identified the establishment as –Dog’s Hair Pub-. He was patting his pockets in search of his gloves against the night chill when he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. Two large animal shadows were thrown against the opposing building, the light coming from a low leveled window of the adjacent building. Even in his drunken stupor, he managed to distinguish the muzzle attributed only to wolves. Between one blink and the next, the shadows that covered the entire building were gone, leaving an ostentatious brink wall betraying all its flaws and cracks to the light.
He started to turn back in a hurry, the procession of one foot over the other causing him to get tangled within his own two feet. Toppling over the drunkard was starting to regain his footing and managed to take an overdue step in the right direction when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, someone or something was coming up behind him. With a whimper he silently said his prayers as his body followed the curious impulse while his fear soaked brain told him to just run.
What exited the alleyway was the sound of high-heeled boots, clicking their way towards the pub. Their rhythmic beat was echoed by a pair of heavier sets of footsteps, clothed in something with a softer and lower heel than the lead. The man turned to see a young woman walking towards the pub, shadowed by a male figure. Both were dressed in disarray, wearing less clothing than what was appropriate for this weather. The clothes were wrinkled, as if there were stored somewhere in a tight space, hidden. The two figures wore linen shirts, both of grey color with loose linen pants of the same size, seeming small on the man and large on the woman.
The woman’s coffee colored shoulder length hair swirled around her face as the wind tugged at it. Her skin was olive and unmarked, her statue athletic but slim, but her eyes were emerald. It was those eyes that the man could not tear his gaze away from. She approached him and continued on past him, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder for his clumsiness. Breaking his trance he only got a glimpse of the man that brushed past him, nearing throwing him off what little balance he had. The man was a mirror copy of the female, the hair was short and his bulk was more massive in density and size, but undeniably those two were related.
As he watched them enter through the doorway by which he took his leave, he forgot what it was that he was so frightened of. He chalked it up to much indulgence of libation and paranoia that only can only be triggered by hallucination. He walked off in the vague direction of his house, where the misses was probably seething in rage at the late hour of his inevitable arrival.
A patrons of the pub were well into their cups when the pair walked in. The human noise stifled whatever words the two exchanges before the female was in a fit of laughter, leaving the man scowling. They moved through the room, the female straying off into the only available dark corner which the male made a bee line for the bar. He returned to their table with a bottle of ale and two glasses. They were off in a celebratory mood.
Having most of the patrons of the pub being male, it was understandable that eyes followed the potential female entertainment. Since she did not exhibit any signs of being any fun, most eyes fell away and moved on to their gambling, drinking and rough housing. All but a few, all of them seated in the middle of the room, also one of the few that were not taking part of the festivities.
The men rose in unison, and headed throws the pair in the back corner. The pair continued to laugh and drink, but their eyes flashed towards the group and back towards each other signaling awareness of the situation. “Lyra and Lionel” Said a broad shouldered man with a cowboy hat, a well past five o’clock shadow on his face and weary eyes. Lyra and Lionel, turned towards the men and sunk back into their chairs comfortably. Neither acknowledging that they were in need the two by such names, they painted their expression with patience, prompting further clarification as to the men’s intrusion.
“Now then, your reputation precedes you. Me and my boys here you are one of the best bounty hunters there are, albeit with questionable methods.” While the posse stood around for the effect, the leader drew out the empty chair and sat himself at their table. “We have a last minute offer for you that you cannot refuse. We would have given you more time, but your late arrival made that impossible.” Without further prompting, the man drops a large and weighed pouch onto the table with a resonating sound of coins. The two pair of emerald eyes widen at the sound, Lionel reached over and opened the bag enough to draw out a gold coil from sack. “What’s the job?”
~~~~
It was a quick job, but it wouldn’t entirely be simple. They were to raid a hideout of a couple of bandits currently holed up in the two story cottage off the main road. The originals occupants were rudely ejected under duress. Lionel and Lyra, were not too eager to go on a job after only reuniting recently. But the man was right, it was a job that they couldn’t refuse.
They knew they were taking a risk by shifting so close to a previous change. But their human forms were only marginally better than their human counterparts, they were best in wolf forms. The pack mentality linked the two of them into near perfect unison and they worked as one. They went off to their respective seclusions and stripped the clothing off, rolling it up and tucking into a safe place. Soundless but excruciatingly they changed back to a more comfortable form. There was power in the beast, a heightened senses, strength, stamina and balance. Balancing on four paws, beats stumbling on two legs, any day. When the change was complete, out came two cinnamon colored wolves in all their fur rippling glory.
The change left them bone weary but not weak, they slinked towards the cottage. Quickly making their rounds, they sniffed out four individual scents, all male. Lyra went around back with intentions for the second floor, while Lionel waited at the front for her to get into position. He heard the sounds that the female sent out, inaudible to human ears. They were ready.
Lyra ran towards a tree growing a few feet away for the house and sprang up and off of it, crashing through the second story window. A shower of glass and wood paneling followed her landing. She skipped to a stop and took in the room, it was well lit but barren wallpaper peeling, floorboards bare, save for two human figures. Just then a loud burst was heard from downstairs, Lionel had entered the house as planned. She turned on the two humans, ready to corner and maim if necessary. But it wasn’t her that was doing the cornering; there they stood smug smirks on their faces, both holding a thick rope in their hands leading to the ceiling and back down to the floor. They simultaneously pulled on the rope and Lyra felt her feet pulled out from under her and she gave quick yelp. She was on her side, cradled by the thick net hanging from the ceiling. Realizing her situation, a thick slow growl rolled in her throat throwing her head sideways she bit down on the rope. “Wouldn’t do that princess.”
A dull thud resonated within her elongated skull. It took a few disoriented seconds for her to come to terms that someone hit her on the head. One of the two goons was backing away, grinning holding a billy club in his hand. “The less you struggle the easier its going to be for the both of us.” The voice said again, Lyra turned her head enough for her left eye to see the doorway of the room. There stood the very same man that hired her and Lionel. She realized that the other two was most likely a part of the same posse from the pub. Lyra let out a snarl that continued on in her throat, “I have to say, it was harder to track you down than we thought.” The man continued on without a second thought to the blood thirsty animal within feet of him. Meanwhile all Lyra could think was about her brother, she couldn’t sense hi. Did he get away? Did he get captured as well?
As if in answer to her questions, a loud yelp followed by a whimper came from downstairs, sending Lyra into an incontrollable fit. She thrashed like hell demon, all three men started to gather condensation as sweat rolled down their brows. Pressing forward as if to get in the last word the man with the cowboy hat continue on “Now if someone asks you who caught the infamous siblings, you tell them Simon Welter bested the two of you.” Simon said proudly, as Lyra was tearing into the ropes around her, her claws useless in this situation other than to get her more tangled, but her teeth were making progress. “Do you even know how much we can get for a pair of werewolves?!” Barked Simon, slapping his knee in his fit of cackling like a mad man. That statement alone would have perked Lyra’s ears, but not today and not right now.
Silence from downstairs was deafening to her, she roared to fill the world with a call for her brother. “Shut her up.” Another dull thud, then another, and another; they hit her over and over until darkness took her under.
~~~
During her captivity she shut off her humanity, she shut off everything except the need to survive, and that required a lot of cold systematic planning. Finally when she breathed the cold night air again, free and unchained, she ran to the nearest tallest mountain and let out all her mourning, rage and hope for the last of her pack. That night all else was silent as from dusk to dawn, a torn howl was heard echoing through the region.
Age: 22
Race: Shifter
Hair Color: Dirty blond streaked with Coffee Locks
Eye Color: Green
Height: 5’4
Weight: 120 lb
Occupation : Bounty Hunter
Personality:
Lyra is pessimistic and riddled with demons that she has yet to acknowledge. She interacts with people out of need and a strict abhorrence to the entire situation. Can turn belligerent in a moment’s notice. Often goes off by instinct, which can be conflicting as her instinct shifts as much as her physical shape does.
Appearance:
When in human form, Lyra has emerald green eyes which stand out boldly from her olive tanned skinned face. Her dirty blond hair with permanent streaks of coffee, grows out a lot faster than she likes; which results in alternating homemade hair styles… when she doesn’t butcher it with a pair of rusty scissor or anything underhand with a sharp edge.
Generally keeping to a low profile, Lyra wears soft leather boots, tough leather riding pants, with a loose sleeveless cotton green shirt. All of which is covered by a riding cloak, often with the hood drawn up to cover her easily distinguishable hair.
Skills:
Taunting: From years of making enemies, Lyra knows what would push a person’s buttons. She lacks finesse, and instead of pushing one button she slams the whole hand down blindly and sees what gets the best reaction.
Tactical strike: Lyra has gained a one sided anatomical knowledge of both animals and humans and knows where to hit where it will hurts the most. This knowledge was gain from both sides of delivering and receiving such strikes.
Survival Instincts: Innate instinct for fight or flight. Will fight when determines that it would end the conflict faster, but will flee when tides turn. When seriously injured will turn feral and systemically will seek shelter and safety to recover.
Abilities:
Partial Shapeshifting: Due to her past Lyra cannot take the full shape of an animal, instead when her emotions are heightened specific features will deform to animal likeness, such as her eyes will turn into feline slits, which in turn can provide the heightened senses in high stress situations.
Heightened senses: The longer Lyra spends in any one animal form, she regains more of their traits for longer periods of time, the last to leave is the sensory improvement attained from that animal. When in human form Lyra’s sense will be marginally improved as opposed to her animal form which will retain improvements from previous shifts along with that animal’s primary sense.
Agility: Due to her small size and lack of clucky standard armor, Lyra can move quickly and silently. Resorting to using her offensive quick assault as a defense, her strategy is to never let the enemy have a chance to strike.
Equipment:
When in human form, Lyra tends to favor the less honest of approaches to combat, showing affinivity for stilettos daggers tipped with poison for sneak attacks. However when cornered Lyra will switch over to her morning star hanging from her hip to make up for her lack of brute strength required in close combat. The morning star was chosen over the mace due to the use of wood in the base shaft of the weapon lowering the weight of the item. Due to the use of the wooden the weapon is rarely used for a parrying attack, rather it’s used as a surprise attack initiated when her opponent gets too close for her comfort.
History:
A single distant howl pierced through the darkened valley. A chilling reminder to the inhabitants of the town nestled comfortably between two mountains that they were not alone. Minutes later an answer resonated from the other end of the valley, answering the call of its kin. Before the hour was over, two four legged shadows skulked into the town. A town that was far from quiet and sleepy.
Here, the day only brought work and strict adherence to moral codes, none of which were present at night. While the small minority of the good natured folk, closed their doors and lumbered of to sleep the rest sought out the pleasure that only the night could bring. The bustle of the town was in full swing, the lights shown bright in the windows of the establishments that offered nightly entertainments and pleasures.
An inebriated fellow stumbled out of a building, the doors swinging and unleashing the bright light that burned within before being recaptured by the wooden enclosure. He was standing beneath the swinging sign that identified the establishment as –Dog’s Hair Pub-. He was patting his pockets in search of his gloves against the night chill when he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. Two large animal shadows were thrown against the opposing building, the light coming from a low leveled window of the adjacent building. Even in his drunken stupor, he managed to distinguish the muzzle attributed only to wolves. Between one blink and the next, the shadows that covered the entire building were gone, leaving an ostentatious brink wall betraying all its flaws and cracks to the light.
He started to turn back in a hurry, the procession of one foot over the other causing him to get tangled within his own two feet. Toppling over the drunkard was starting to regain his footing and managed to take an overdue step in the right direction when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, someone or something was coming up behind him. With a whimper he silently said his prayers as his body followed the curious impulse while his fear soaked brain told him to just run.
What exited the alleyway was the sound of high-heeled boots, clicking their way towards the pub. Their rhythmic beat was echoed by a pair of heavier sets of footsteps, clothed in something with a softer and lower heel than the lead. The man turned to see a young woman walking towards the pub, shadowed by a male figure. Both were dressed in disarray, wearing less clothing than what was appropriate for this weather. The clothes were wrinkled, as if there were stored somewhere in a tight space, hidden. The two figures wore linen shirts, both of grey color with loose linen pants of the same size, seeming small on the man and large on the woman.
The woman’s coffee colored shoulder length hair swirled around her face as the wind tugged at it. Her skin was olive and unmarked, her statue athletic but slim, but her eyes were emerald. It was those eyes that the man could not tear his gaze away from. She approached him and continued on past him, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder for his clumsiness. Breaking his trance he only got a glimpse of the man that brushed past him, nearing throwing him off what little balance he had. The man was a mirror copy of the female, the hair was short and his bulk was more massive in density and size, but undeniably those two were related.
As he watched them enter through the doorway by which he took his leave, he forgot what it was that he was so frightened of. He chalked it up to much indulgence of libation and paranoia that only can only be triggered by hallucination. He walked off in the vague direction of his house, where the misses was probably seething in rage at the late hour of his inevitable arrival.
A patrons of the pub were well into their cups when the pair walked in. The human noise stifled whatever words the two exchanges before the female was in a fit of laughter, leaving the man scowling. They moved through the room, the female straying off into the only available dark corner which the male made a bee line for the bar. He returned to their table with a bottle of ale and two glasses. They were off in a celebratory mood.
Having most of the patrons of the pub being male, it was understandable that eyes followed the potential female entertainment. Since she did not exhibit any signs of being any fun, most eyes fell away and moved on to their gambling, drinking and rough housing. All but a few, all of them seated in the middle of the room, also one of the few that were not taking part of the festivities.
The men rose in unison, and headed throws the pair in the back corner. The pair continued to laugh and drink, but their eyes flashed towards the group and back towards each other signaling awareness of the situation. “Lyra and Lionel” Said a broad shouldered man with a cowboy hat, a well past five o’clock shadow on his face and weary eyes. Lyra and Lionel, turned towards the men and sunk back into their chairs comfortably. Neither acknowledging that they were in need the two by such names, they painted their expression with patience, prompting further clarification as to the men’s intrusion.
“Now then, your reputation precedes you. Me and my boys here you are one of the best bounty hunters there are, albeit with questionable methods.” While the posse stood around for the effect, the leader drew out the empty chair and sat himself at their table. “We have a last minute offer for you that you cannot refuse. We would have given you more time, but your late arrival made that impossible.” Without further prompting, the man drops a large and weighed pouch onto the table with a resonating sound of coins. The two pair of emerald eyes widen at the sound, Lionel reached over and opened the bag enough to draw out a gold coil from sack. “What’s the job?”
~~~~
It was a quick job, but it wouldn’t entirely be simple. They were to raid a hideout of a couple of bandits currently holed up in the two story cottage off the main road. The originals occupants were rudely ejected under duress. Lionel and Lyra, were not too eager to go on a job after only reuniting recently. But the man was right, it was a job that they couldn’t refuse.
They knew they were taking a risk by shifting so close to a previous change. But their human forms were only marginally better than their human counterparts, they were best in wolf forms. The pack mentality linked the two of them into near perfect unison and they worked as one. They went off to their respective seclusions and stripped the clothing off, rolling it up and tucking into a safe place. Soundless but excruciatingly they changed back to a more comfortable form. There was power in the beast, a heightened senses, strength, stamina and balance. Balancing on four paws, beats stumbling on two legs, any day. When the change was complete, out came two cinnamon colored wolves in all their fur rippling glory.
The change left them bone weary but not weak, they slinked towards the cottage. Quickly making their rounds, they sniffed out four individual scents, all male. Lyra went around back with intentions for the second floor, while Lionel waited at the front for her to get into position. He heard the sounds that the female sent out, inaudible to human ears. They were ready.
Lyra ran towards a tree growing a few feet away for the house and sprang up and off of it, crashing through the second story window. A shower of glass and wood paneling followed her landing. She skipped to a stop and took in the room, it was well lit but barren wallpaper peeling, floorboards bare, save for two human figures. Just then a loud burst was heard from downstairs, Lionel had entered the house as planned. She turned on the two humans, ready to corner and maim if necessary. But it wasn’t her that was doing the cornering; there they stood smug smirks on their faces, both holding a thick rope in their hands leading to the ceiling and back down to the floor. They simultaneously pulled on the rope and Lyra felt her feet pulled out from under her and she gave quick yelp. She was on her side, cradled by the thick net hanging from the ceiling. Realizing her situation, a thick slow growl rolled in her throat throwing her head sideways she bit down on the rope. “Wouldn’t do that princess.”
A dull thud resonated within her elongated skull. It took a few disoriented seconds for her to come to terms that someone hit her on the head. One of the two goons was backing away, grinning holding a billy club in his hand. “The less you struggle the easier its going to be for the both of us.” The voice said again, Lyra turned her head enough for her left eye to see the doorway of the room. There stood the very same man that hired her and Lionel. She realized that the other two was most likely a part of the same posse from the pub. Lyra let out a snarl that continued on in her throat, “I have to say, it was harder to track you down than we thought.” The man continued on without a second thought to the blood thirsty animal within feet of him. Meanwhile all Lyra could think was about her brother, she couldn’t sense hi. Did he get away? Did he get captured as well?
As if in answer to her questions, a loud yelp followed by a whimper came from downstairs, sending Lyra into an incontrollable fit. She thrashed like hell demon, all three men started to gather condensation as sweat rolled down their brows. Pressing forward as if to get in the last word the man with the cowboy hat continue on “Now if someone asks you who caught the infamous siblings, you tell them Simon Welter bested the two of you.” Simon said proudly, as Lyra was tearing into the ropes around her, her claws useless in this situation other than to get her more tangled, but her teeth were making progress. “Do you even know how much we can get for a pair of werewolves?!” Barked Simon, slapping his knee in his fit of cackling like a mad man. That statement alone would have perked Lyra’s ears, but not today and not right now.
Silence from downstairs was deafening to her, she roared to fill the world with a call for her brother. “Shut her up.” Another dull thud, then another, and another; they hit her over and over until darkness took her under.
~~~
During her captivity she shut off her humanity, she shut off everything except the need to survive, and that required a lot of cold systematic planning. Finally when she breathed the cold night air again, free and unchained, she ran to the nearest tallest mountain and let out all her mourning, rage and hope for the last of her pack. That night all else was silent as from dusk to dawn, a torn howl was heard echoing through the region.