Juju
PREY-FOR-US
A NEW CHALLENGER APPEARS!
Name: Lithariel Ire’wa
Age: 142
Race: Ailuran (cat version of lycan. Comes from the word Ailuranthrope. [ailouros meaning "cat"] I’VE DONE THE SCIENCE!)
Human form:
Silver hair, blind in the right eye with the left being a pale blue
Half-Beast Form:
(Note: Tail is MUCH shorter, like the one shown with her Full Beast Form)
Armor reference:
Probably something like this. Usually wears a black fur cloak...looks like it was from an over-sized wolf
Full Beast Form :
Personality: Lithariel is not one for petty wastes of time and will not suffer for fools. Her patience is thin when it comes to annoyances and her anger knows no bounds, often lashing out with deadly force. On the surface she is proud, merciless and cold; insufferable towards weakness. On the inside she holds a frozen emptiness in place of a heart. This she guards fiercely, cloaking it in icy spite for all living things... a deep rooted hatred that could belong only to one whom knows nothing but killing. Stand in her way and you will die.
[SIZE=13.333333333333332px]Where are they from[/SIZE][SIZE=13.333333333333332px]: [/SIZE][SIZE=13.333333333333332px]The Ice Fangs (a mountain range that towers above NearGashia) [/SIZE]
History:
I am so sorry. This is really long. I had to get this out of the way though T^T
[SIZE=13.333333333333332px]Magic... if they use magic: [/SIZE]
[SIZE=13.333333333333332px]Lithariel’s race have traits that are very similar to that of the lycan people, giving her unnatural agility, reflexes, perception, strength, stamina, stealth etc. Whenever she shifts forms these gifts become even more enhanced, allowing her to sneak up and kill even the most alert of guardians without so much as letting the fleas on their head know what is going on.[/SIZE] If you manage to get a glimpse of her shadow you are already too late. Prolonged periods of combat are no problem, her stamina allowing her to fight for days if needed, but usually her prey don't last that long. If they happen to survive her initial attack she will quite happily cut them down in a flurry of blades or rip them apart with claws and teeth. Their fate is the same regardless.
Name: Lithariel Ire’wa
Age: 142
Race: Ailuran (cat version of lycan. Comes from the word Ailuranthrope. [ailouros meaning "cat"] I’VE DONE THE SCIENCE!)
Human form:
Silver hair, blind in the right eye with the left being a pale blue
Half-Beast Form:
(Note: Tail is MUCH shorter, like the one shown with her Full Beast Form)
Armor reference:
Probably something like this. Usually wears a black fur cloak...looks like it was from an over-sized wolf
Full Beast Form :
Personality: Lithariel is not one for petty wastes of time and will not suffer for fools. Her patience is thin when it comes to annoyances and her anger knows no bounds, often lashing out with deadly force. On the surface she is proud, merciless and cold; insufferable towards weakness. On the inside she holds a frozen emptiness in place of a heart. This she guards fiercely, cloaking it in icy spite for all living things... a deep rooted hatred that could belong only to one whom knows nothing but killing. Stand in her way and you will die.
[SIZE=13.333333333333332px]Where are they from[/SIZE][SIZE=13.333333333333332px]: [/SIZE][SIZE=13.333333333333332px]The Ice Fangs (a mountain range that towers above NearGashia) [/SIZE]
History:
I am so sorry. This is really long. I had to get this out of the way though T^T
Concerning Ailurans
[The inhabitants of The Ice Fangs are said to be as rugged and cold as the mountains they inhabit, with legend speaking of giant cats that prey on those who managed to escape the wrath of the elements. It is safe to say that only the Ailurans have been able to live on these peaks. A proud but scattered people, the catfolk of the mountains are elusive hunters who live solitary lives in the most desolate region of the world. Yet every year beneath the last full moon before winter, all of their species gather within the caverns below the tallest peak in the range for a religious ceremony and as a means to exchange news and catch up on friends and family. When romances are formed, they are maintained during this event before both parties continue on with their lives in solitude.
During the rest of the year this place serves as a refuge during times of need and houses the elders who maintain it year-round.]
-------
Lithariel was born and raised on the slopes of The Fangs, along with her mother and older sister. Like all of her kind, she was raised without the presence of a father except during the religious gathering once every year. To single-handedly raise one child in such a habitat was a hardship, let alone two, but her mother always managed to hunt down enough prey to keep them all fed. That is until one winter where the prey became so scarce that even her mother with all of her hunting experience could not find any food in her entire territory. To keep her offspring alive she turned to drastic measures and intruded into the territory of the wolven people. At first she was able to do this without their notice, but things were lean on both sides and a decrease in prey and the scent of cat was not to be ignored.
Eventually Lithariel’s family ran into the wolves but managed to escape… at the cost of wolven life. Her mother decided to stay in their territory from now on but the wolves were not done yet. It was an organized group of individuals, juveniles that had known the fallen and had hearts filled with bloody justice. They stalked the cats deep into their territory and cut them off from the refuge of the mountains, forcing them to be on constant move without rest, toying with them to exhaust the already malnourished adult cat. After a day and a half they struck. Lithariel’s mother fought as best she could to allow her cubs time but she was no match for a pack in her current state.
In the end Lithariel was the only one who made it onto the peaks, her older sister lying bloody and torn upon the rocks below where she was run down. She didn’t stand a chance when the beasts drew in and Lithariel knew the only reason why she was not there in her sister’s place all came down to which sibling was faster. Though the cold could not pierce her hide, Lithariel's heart froze that day. It was as if every emotion she had ever known before this day no longer mattered, all except rage and the chilled flame of revenge.
The next years were spent at the religious shrine where she helped out the elders by hunting and cleaning for them. Hunting was a favourite, but the caretaking made her sick. She trained when she could, taking down larger prey and practicing the art of fighting with anyone who would spar. As soon as she came of age she struck out on her own and made her way back to her mother’s old territory. By now it belonged to the wolves, but not for long. After Lithariel’s first kill she became hooked, the hatred becoming a hunger that could never quite be sated. Soon it didn’t become a matter of keeping wolves out but of actively seeking their kind and slaughtering them without remorse. Her territory grew to be double the size that her mother’s had ever been and most of her time was spent at the edges, waiting for any wolf to come too close. Sometimes she would deliberately injure a prey species only for it to be used as bait for those less than weary.
These actions disturbed the others of her kind and soon she was met by fear wherever her shadow fell upon the rocks of the caverns each year. The catfolk feared that Lithariel would spark an all out war with the wolfen folk, one in which the few Ailuren would lose should all the wolves band together. To resolve this they opted to kill or imprison Lithariel when she made her way to the religious gathering. Needless to say Lithariel was lucky to have lived and was driven back into her territory. She should have been slain, but as a final act of mercy from an elder, she was instead clearly marked as an outcast for both wolves and cats to see and banished from any Ailuren territory but her own. Mercy was what they called it, to be left bleeding on the stones while those you had thought to be family burned a cruel mark on your shoulder before leaving you to the frost.
------
Sometime later there came a day when she encountered a wolf she could not kill. Many times did the two clash, turning the snows red and destroying the land they used as a battleground. Yet regardless of how heated the battle became both sides always ended up surviving. This wolf was an equal in every way, matching her ferocity with his love of battle and her hatred with his desire for a true challenge. After a few battles a strange bond began to develop between the two… a respect that could only be shared between warriors on opposite sides of a blade. It was through this that Lithariel began to question her resolve in hunting down wolves. This warrior, Argen, had shown honor that she believed to not exist in his kind.
She began to look forward to their fights and their rivalry became something more along the lines of kinship. Something then happened that Lithariel didn’t expect at all… she began feeling again. After all this time she thought she had lost that ability. Her hatred was beginning to melt away. Incidentally when Argen offered that they try meeting without weapons for one night she tentatively accepted. It was the most difficult thing she has ever done in her life, and looking back she now believes it was the worst thing she has ever done.
It all happened so fast. One moment she was on her way to their meeting location and the next she was surrounded by wolves. She didn’t have much time to react before the fangs fell on her and the blades cut into her flesh. In the struggle one of her attackers caught her in her right eye, forever rendering it useless. By the time she could transform into her cat form she was gravely wounded and half blind. Unable to take on so many fully grown wolves, she fled the scene towards the cliffs where she knew she would have the upper hand. It was so predictable. They cut her off, glimpses of her mother’s fate shining before her eyes as she was herded towards the ledge of a cliff. Then, with nowhere to go she fought as only a cornered beast could but in the end she fell into the ravine when her wounds became too great.
There was no telling how many hours had passed or even days by the time Lithariel opened her eye. All she knew was pain as she stared up at a half dark world. She was covered in snow, white in appearance but she could see the red peeking from beneath where her blood had stained it. Lithariel couldn’t move her limbs and instead was forced to wait hour upon agonizing hour while her flesh and bones knitted themselves together. It gave her more than enough time to grasp what had happened. She had been ambushed… no lead into a trap while she was most vulnerable. This realization hurt her far deeper than any sword and stung like venom. The one person she thought she could trust, had trusted... no… it couldn’t be.
After an unknown period of time Lithariel was able to gather enough strength to heave herself out of the snow. It was not a pretty sight but she had other things to worry about than the scars that would form on her pelt. Using every ounce of willpower she had she forced herself out of the ravine and back to the site where she had been attacked. She saw the footprints left by her attackers and how they had circled back here after her fall… then there was another, familiar scent. Argen. His scent mixed with the other wolves and had lingered for some time… they must have brought him the news of their victory, or had he been there when they attacked her? His scent seemed to follow along the path she had fled. She was shaking then, and not just from exhaustion and bloodloss. Her head turned to detect the scent go off in the same direction as the other wolves.. to their meeting spot. If hearts could shatter, Lithariel’s did so then. What made it so much worse was that she could feel it this time… the cold numbness she once had could not save her anymore. She was broken and didn’t even stoop to pick up the pieces.
With nothing left for her, Lithariel abandoned her homeland and limped off in the direction of the human kingdoms. There she lived as a blight in the darkness, preying upon any creature that came across her path. Death held little meaning to her and life even less; the only thing that mattered was what came in between; the hunt, the kill. It was only when the life of another was snatched from their hearts did her own seem to feel something. She was hollow but did not care, the ice around her heart returned and this time she let it consume her entirely.
It was easy to pass as just another monster of the wood, but not every human was fooled. Along came a lordling with a quick wit and an even quicker smile, though not of the kind sort. He knew what Lithariel was and did not want it to be wasted on travelers and beasts. The lordling offered her a chance to put her skills to use and drive true fear into the hearts of kings and men alike. Lithariel could not care less for whatever cause pulled this one’s strings but she had to admit the challenge posed by would-be adventurers and wild beasts was nothing but child's play to an Ailuran. She accepted the offer to carry out the king’s work in the shadows, assassinating key targets with ease.
[The inhabitants of The Ice Fangs are said to be as rugged and cold as the mountains they inhabit, with legend speaking of giant cats that prey on those who managed to escape the wrath of the elements. It is safe to say that only the Ailurans have been able to live on these peaks. A proud but scattered people, the catfolk of the mountains are elusive hunters who live solitary lives in the most desolate region of the world. Yet every year beneath the last full moon before winter, all of their species gather within the caverns below the tallest peak in the range for a religious ceremony and as a means to exchange news and catch up on friends and family. When romances are formed, they are maintained during this event before both parties continue on with their lives in solitude.
During the rest of the year this place serves as a refuge during times of need and houses the elders who maintain it year-round.]
-------
Lithariel was born and raised on the slopes of The Fangs, along with her mother and older sister. Like all of her kind, she was raised without the presence of a father except during the religious gathering once every year. To single-handedly raise one child in such a habitat was a hardship, let alone two, but her mother always managed to hunt down enough prey to keep them all fed. That is until one winter where the prey became so scarce that even her mother with all of her hunting experience could not find any food in her entire territory. To keep her offspring alive she turned to drastic measures and intruded into the territory of the wolven people. At first she was able to do this without their notice, but things were lean on both sides and a decrease in prey and the scent of cat was not to be ignored.
Eventually Lithariel’s family ran into the wolves but managed to escape… at the cost of wolven life. Her mother decided to stay in their territory from now on but the wolves were not done yet. It was an organized group of individuals, juveniles that had known the fallen and had hearts filled with bloody justice. They stalked the cats deep into their territory and cut them off from the refuge of the mountains, forcing them to be on constant move without rest, toying with them to exhaust the already malnourished adult cat. After a day and a half they struck. Lithariel’s mother fought as best she could to allow her cubs time but she was no match for a pack in her current state.
In the end Lithariel was the only one who made it onto the peaks, her older sister lying bloody and torn upon the rocks below where she was run down. She didn’t stand a chance when the beasts drew in and Lithariel knew the only reason why she was not there in her sister’s place all came down to which sibling was faster. Though the cold could not pierce her hide, Lithariel's heart froze that day. It was as if every emotion she had ever known before this day no longer mattered, all except rage and the chilled flame of revenge.
The next years were spent at the religious shrine where she helped out the elders by hunting and cleaning for them. Hunting was a favourite, but the caretaking made her sick. She trained when she could, taking down larger prey and practicing the art of fighting with anyone who would spar. As soon as she came of age she struck out on her own and made her way back to her mother’s old territory. By now it belonged to the wolves, but not for long. After Lithariel’s first kill she became hooked, the hatred becoming a hunger that could never quite be sated. Soon it didn’t become a matter of keeping wolves out but of actively seeking their kind and slaughtering them without remorse. Her territory grew to be double the size that her mother’s had ever been and most of her time was spent at the edges, waiting for any wolf to come too close. Sometimes she would deliberately injure a prey species only for it to be used as bait for those less than weary.
These actions disturbed the others of her kind and soon she was met by fear wherever her shadow fell upon the rocks of the caverns each year. The catfolk feared that Lithariel would spark an all out war with the wolfen folk, one in which the few Ailuren would lose should all the wolves band together. To resolve this they opted to kill or imprison Lithariel when she made her way to the religious gathering. Needless to say Lithariel was lucky to have lived and was driven back into her territory. She should have been slain, but as a final act of mercy from an elder, she was instead clearly marked as an outcast for both wolves and cats to see and banished from any Ailuren territory but her own. Mercy was what they called it, to be left bleeding on the stones while those you had thought to be family burned a cruel mark on your shoulder before leaving you to the frost.
------
Sometime later there came a day when she encountered a wolf she could not kill. Many times did the two clash, turning the snows red and destroying the land they used as a battleground. Yet regardless of how heated the battle became both sides always ended up surviving. This wolf was an equal in every way, matching her ferocity with his love of battle and her hatred with his desire for a true challenge. After a few battles a strange bond began to develop between the two… a respect that could only be shared between warriors on opposite sides of a blade. It was through this that Lithariel began to question her resolve in hunting down wolves. This warrior, Argen, had shown honor that she believed to not exist in his kind.
She began to look forward to their fights and their rivalry became something more along the lines of kinship. Something then happened that Lithariel didn’t expect at all… she began feeling again. After all this time she thought she had lost that ability. Her hatred was beginning to melt away. Incidentally when Argen offered that they try meeting without weapons for one night she tentatively accepted. It was the most difficult thing she has ever done in her life, and looking back she now believes it was the worst thing she has ever done.
It all happened so fast. One moment she was on her way to their meeting location and the next she was surrounded by wolves. She didn’t have much time to react before the fangs fell on her and the blades cut into her flesh. In the struggle one of her attackers caught her in her right eye, forever rendering it useless. By the time she could transform into her cat form she was gravely wounded and half blind. Unable to take on so many fully grown wolves, she fled the scene towards the cliffs where she knew she would have the upper hand. It was so predictable. They cut her off, glimpses of her mother’s fate shining before her eyes as she was herded towards the ledge of a cliff. Then, with nowhere to go she fought as only a cornered beast could but in the end she fell into the ravine when her wounds became too great.
There was no telling how many hours had passed or even days by the time Lithariel opened her eye. All she knew was pain as she stared up at a half dark world. She was covered in snow, white in appearance but she could see the red peeking from beneath where her blood had stained it. Lithariel couldn’t move her limbs and instead was forced to wait hour upon agonizing hour while her flesh and bones knitted themselves together. It gave her more than enough time to grasp what had happened. She had been ambushed… no lead into a trap while she was most vulnerable. This realization hurt her far deeper than any sword and stung like venom. The one person she thought she could trust, had trusted... no… it couldn’t be.
After an unknown period of time Lithariel was able to gather enough strength to heave herself out of the snow. It was not a pretty sight but she had other things to worry about than the scars that would form on her pelt. Using every ounce of willpower she had she forced herself out of the ravine and back to the site where she had been attacked. She saw the footprints left by her attackers and how they had circled back here after her fall… then there was another, familiar scent. Argen. His scent mixed with the other wolves and had lingered for some time… they must have brought him the news of their victory, or had he been there when they attacked her? His scent seemed to follow along the path she had fled. She was shaking then, and not just from exhaustion and bloodloss. Her head turned to detect the scent go off in the same direction as the other wolves.. to their meeting spot. If hearts could shatter, Lithariel’s did so then. What made it so much worse was that she could feel it this time… the cold numbness she once had could not save her anymore. She was broken and didn’t even stoop to pick up the pieces.
With nothing left for her, Lithariel abandoned her homeland and limped off in the direction of the human kingdoms. There she lived as a blight in the darkness, preying upon any creature that came across her path. Death held little meaning to her and life even less; the only thing that mattered was what came in between; the hunt, the kill. It was only when the life of another was snatched from their hearts did her own seem to feel something. She was hollow but did not care, the ice around her heart returned and this time she let it consume her entirely.
It was easy to pass as just another monster of the wood, but not every human was fooled. Along came a lordling with a quick wit and an even quicker smile, though not of the kind sort. He knew what Lithariel was and did not want it to be wasted on travelers and beasts. The lordling offered her a chance to put her skills to use and drive true fear into the hearts of kings and men alike. Lithariel could not care less for whatever cause pulled this one’s strings but she had to admit the challenge posed by would-be adventurers and wild beasts was nothing but child's play to an Ailuran. She accepted the offer to carry out the king’s work in the shadows, assassinating key targets with ease.
[SIZE=13.333333333333332px]Magic... if they use magic: [/SIZE]
[SIZE=13.333333333333332px]Lithariel’s race have traits that are very similar to that of the lycan people, giving her unnatural agility, reflexes, perception, strength, stamina, stealth etc. Whenever she shifts forms these gifts become even more enhanced, allowing her to sneak up and kill even the most alert of guardians without so much as letting the fleas on their head know what is going on.[/SIZE] If you manage to get a glimpse of her shadow you are already too late. Prolonged periods of combat are no problem, her stamina allowing her to fight for days if needed, but usually her prey don't last that long. If they happen to survive her initial attack she will quite happily cut them down in a flurry of blades or rip them apart with claws and teeth. Their fate is the same regardless.
)
like comeon stop thinking he's a good guy he's not lmao) and yours doesnt have to be either. Merely tagging along for seperate purposes.
