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Description

11/13/16: ...Oopsie. Blaming a bunch of friends for this. >3> But hEY!! This group looks pretty neat! and I'm in a better place now, real-life terms, and now that I've gotten my RPs to a manageable level, I feel like I can spread out a little more. ;u;
I'll likely add more details to my form, but for now I'm keeping it simple!
Also that history ... I did not plan for it to be that long and dark and cliche, rip.
11/14/16: Salem is full, but that's okay! It actually inspired a lil mini plot for her and her friend! <3
11/14/16: Aaaa I got in, whoop whoop! ;u; Added a couple more details to her bio too!
7/18/17: Switched to rogue. Preparing to wrap things up and leave. uwu

I N T R O

Name: Baajaril ("Baah-jaah-rill")
Nicknames: Baaja
Age (Current): Young Adult - 2 Years, 4 Months
Age (Joined): 2 Years, 4 Months
Gender: Female
Height: 35"
Weight: 115 lbs
Appearance: First glance gives a few easy words: large, pale, and hard to miss. She is unnaturally large for a female, and heavily built - muscled and buff. This being said, she's been mistaken for a male quite a few times. Her fur is creamy, and fades along a red spectrum near her face, back, and down her tail. Rough and somewhat coarse to the touch, Baaja's pelt is not the prettiest, but it is thick and serves to keep her warm. It tangles easily, however, and is often ruffled and askew, particularly since she rarely tends to it. Baaja has a thick tail, wide ears, and very poofy cheek fluff. She also has a snaggletooth that pokes out on the left side of her snout. A couple scars adorn her pelt, tributes from past experiences.
Scent: Thick, dry coniferous woods.
Voice: Low, melodic, only slightly feminine. (Looking for actor..)

D E T A I L S

Pack: None
Rank: Rogue

Personality:
Independent & Self-Confident
Despite a troubled childhood, Baajaril holds herself with certainty. She is proud of who she is, what she looks like, and what she stands for. It has always been part of her to stand up on her own, even when she was young. She belongs to no one; she is her own, and she is strong. At times her confidence may transition to arrogance, though she is usually able to reign it back. In general she is aware of her own limits, and is not so boastful except perhaps when joking.

Sensible & Imaginative
Baajaril views the world through reason and reality. She has never been subject to a religion, and the idea of gods simply puzzles her. It does invest her curiosity, however, which is a strong force on its own. Baaja revels in having a well-learned mind as well as a fit exterior, for she thinks knowledge is as great a power as fighting skill. Learning came easy for her, thought it was rough in her early days, and she was always eager to push herself forwards and ask questions when uncertainty arose. Her imagination stretches far, but she does understand the limits of the world itself - at least, what she believes are the limits.

Belligerent & Resentful
Being large and powerful on the outside, one would expect her to use her skills a great deal, and that she does. With somewhat of a temper, Baajaril is prone to snapping out and telling someone else how she sees things. She knows she can fight, and so she uses this to her advantage. Anyone who threatens her will face a challenge, or at least some sort of retaliation. She does not like to be toyed with, or dismissed, and is known to hold a grudge for a very long time.

Harsh & Awkward
Aside from being short-tempered, Baaja can come across quite cold - if she gets a bad vibe from someone. Basically, she's very honest about whether or not she likes someone, unless subtley is required for her surival. She will say it how it is. If it upsets someone, she usually finds herself more puzzled than empathetic. Not very good at comforting, she'll go the 'buck it up, son' sort of route. In general, she is a little socially withdrawn, and tends to avoid large groups. Sometimes the more in-depth signals leave her clueless, and she at times will grumble when she doesn't understand what's going on.

Protective & Loyal
Though she struggles with forming relationships, Baajaril ends up often very close to those she does connect to. She is keen on keeping bonds, and goes out of her way at times to spoil and respect her friends and family. She would lay down her life for them, no doubt. They are her most important part of life.
Likes: Light and few company, wind in her fur, winning a fight, accomplishing things, mountains, eating.
Dislikes: Big crowds, rainfall, losing at most anything, being underestimated, deep water.
Other: N/A
Themes: Parrot , Blame

Family: Emarla (Mother, NPC), Vardrir (Father, NPC), Mahklen (Brother, NPC)

Orientation: Panromantic, demisexual.
Preference: Either gender, particularly with soft fur colors and bright eyes. She likes scars (to her this shows experience) as well. Skill that outmatches her own (would invoke a false hatred that means she's interested). On the other paw, has a soft spot for the meek and cute (ones she can protect).

Current Interests: N/A
Past Interests: N/A

Mate: N/A
Offspring: N/A

P A S T

Pre-Group History/Backstory: [Warning: Violence/gore]
A hard rain pattered the ground outside the den, where a white she-wolf had just littered two pups. It was early in the season, the threat of frosts still very real, and the birth had been hard on the mother. She was part of a large pack, though not by choice. Just months before, she and her mate had been taken by a patrol and forcibly brought to the pack, which was known as Hn'varag. Her mate had fought back, and he'd been instantly killed. The she-wolf, Emarla, would have wished death upon herself had she not been pregnant. She was shoved aside, under watch of the pack, and told her pups would be fodder soldiers. There was no choice in the matter, and the next month passed with Emarla sinking into depression, barely keeping herself alive. She'd begun to understand some of Hn'varag's workings, but it was a black and horrid reality. The pack seemed to be ruled by a select few - a family group most likely. There were two alphas, a pair of cruel males - twins, surely. The bulk of the pack held in by the royal guard, warriors with frightening skill and the ability to kill so fast few ever tried to go against them. She-wolves were considered breeding tools unless they were barren. Pups were taken once they were weaned and thrown into a small group of 'youth soldiers'. These were the first line of defense. Casualties were a given. If the young survived to their second year, they were deemed a packmate. War was Hn'varag's lifeblood. They were nomadic, and sought battle. Few ever escaped their clutches.

It was this group that Emarla's pups would be subjected to. She blamed herself of course. She and her mate had wandered too close, and he'd paid with his life. Now her children would be forced into battle, likely to die before their first year. For a moment, Emarla considered killing the two newborns. They were already weak, thanks to her emaciated lifestyle. How would they make it a day, a week? But if she killed them, she'd surely be punished. Fear clouded her mind. She let them nurse, and fell into an agonizing slumber. The next month the pups grew steadily. Though far from fat and healthy, they were kept alive and fed. Emarla had named them: Baajaril, the creamy female, and Mahklen, the russet male. She was not the only female with a litter - and this may have kept her from total darkness. A friendship formed with a blue-furred she-wolf named Lilreeni, who had four dark puppies. They were offspring of one of the royal guard... a forced mating - which was hardly unheard of here. A flicker of light, however, was the bond that Emarla and Lilreeni shared.

Baajaril did not question her presence in this dark, bloody world. It was all she had ever known - she could not fathom anything better, or worse. Hunger was a familiar friend, as was fear. She was used to big wolves walking big, leering at her and her brother and even her mother, who shirked from them even more than her children did. Baaja focused on growing up. While she was used to the environment, she did not like what it did to her and her kin - particularly Emarla. She pestered her mother with questions, but they were often unanswered. She played with Mahklen constantly, telling him they ought to learn how to be big and strong - so they could defend their mother! Mahklen was shyer and more prone to hiding and sleeping, but he was fierce when prompted by his sister. They made fast friends with Lilreeni's litter, too. Baajaril particularly bonded with the youngest pup, a silver-blue female called Uchetir. They were quite alike in personality, and became a formidable puppy pair. Despite long nights of hunger, there was something to smile about. Baaja had friends, and she had her family. One day, she'd bring them a better home. This she promised to herself.

Weaning came with a shock. The six pups - not plump, but filling out - were taken suddenly into the night. A trio of guards herded them away from their mothers to a clearing. A clearing sharp with pain and fear. Within sat ten or so young wolves - ranging from around six months to nearly two years. They were guant, scarred, and shied away at the approach. Baaja, her brother, and Lilreeni's litter were shoved forwards. A few of the adolescents cast them pitying looks. When daylight came, Baaja knew why. She was suddenly faced by a huge guard, and her friends were each paired with their own huge opponent. Training had begun. It lasted for a month or so. During that time the six pups saw only each other, the other young wolves, and the guards they fought. They did not know how to get to the main camp where their mothers were. They had never been out in the territory before. But, they had no time to explore. Once the sun rose, they were forced to train. To fight, against wolves twice or three times their size. Blood was spilled, enough to teach the pups - at least that was what they were told. They fought into the night, then allowed to sleep. No one had energy to do anything else. The cycle repeated day after day.

Then, everything was uprooted. The pack moved. The young wolves were pushed along, circled by guards, at the head of the pack. Baaja glimpsed her mother behind them, with the rest, but she was not permitted to step out of the guard circle. They traveled for a week, perhaps, but the time blurred and Baaja was not sure in the end. When they stopped, one of Lilreeni's litter fell and did not get up. A guard picked him up and took him away, and he was not seen again. This was the first true emotional pain Baajaril felt. But there was no time to grieve. She, along with her brother, the rest of Lilreeni's pups, and all the other adolescents, were dragged along with a crew of guards and a battalion of other packmates. They faced a line of strangers, angry and big. A signal was given, and fighting ensued. Baaja had never seen this before. This was what real battle was. Snapping jaws and swiping paws, flicking blood off into the snow. Their enemies seemed baffled by the tiny warriors, but fought nonetheless, and Baaja was terrified. She tried to fight - oh she tried. But she ended up fleeing more than throwing blows. Her pelt grew slick with blood, some of it her own and some of it not. This was panic. Desperately, she sought out her brother and her friends. Ducking from a snarling stranger, she spotted Mahklen, backing away from another enemy. He held one paw to his chest; it was mangled and dripping blood. Baaja screeched and lauched herself at the enemy. Chomp down on his flank! He howled and turned, sinking teeth into her shoulder and throwing her aside. Thud! Her head screamed in pain, and the world turned black.

When she woke, it was quiet. Dead silent. Snow covered the ground, but it was churned and stained red. There were bodies... everywhere. Nothing moved! Where had they gone? Baaja shivered, fighting bile in her throat and panic in her chest. Where had they gone?? She stumbled forwards, and her eyes caught sight of a familiar cream-and-rust pelt. Her heart jumped into her throat. "Mahklen?" He was.. nearly unrecognizable. His forepaw! What happened to it? Had the enemies done this? She inched forwards, sniffing. He smelled of the guards too. T-they hadn't - why? He was dead, no doubt. Baaja turned away, tears streaming down her face. She gagged and fought her way through the snow, trying to escape the battlefield. Another body caught her eye. Bluish fur... it was Uchetir, her best friend. She couldn't look anymore, and ran. Choking on her tears, the cream pup fled through the woods. She ran until she passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Again, Baajaril woke to cold silence. Her pelt was a mess, bloody and sticky. Her wounds ached and stung, and her stomach was twisted. She was hungry, and yet the battle scene made her feel as if any food she ate would be thrown up. A sense of desperation took over. She was lost, alone, and injured. Hopeless, she fell into a dreamless sleep. Sharp pricks brought her to consciousness. Someone was pulling on her fur. Eyes opened to see a crow. It hopped back as she moved, squawking once. Baaja whimpered, glancing around to see a crowd of dark birds. Carrion-eaters! She was going to die. However, a thunder of pawsteps made her look up. The birds fled in a flurry of wings and cawing, and Baaja hid her face, expecting to be eaten by something else. Instead a nose prodded her, and she peeked up into a set of pale green eyes. Calm, kind eyes. They belonged to a strange wolf, tawny in color and big in stature. But she resonated friendliness, not anger or the desire to harm.

Her name was Kelamyn, and she took in the troubled pup. Set her up on her paws and cleaned her wounds, told her everything would be okay. At first Baaja was wary and distrustful, but the weeks turned into months and she grew - both mentally and physically - and came to trust the tawny female. Kelamyn taught her things anew. How to fight - not by beating Baaja up, but through careful practice. How to hunt - something that the creamy youth struggled with - particularly when it came to speed. But she was not hit for being wrong, not abused. The kindness was baffling but oh so wonderful. Never had a stranger shown any compassion prior to this. It gave her such hope. The world was not as awful as her birth pack had been. Rejuvenated, Baaja reached her first year while traveling with Kelamyn, suddenly a healthy young wolf.

Despite her new life, Baajaril thought constantly about her former, and in particular, her mother. How one time she had promised her family and friends a better life. Some of them were dead. The others, she did not know. It troubled her, but she did not voice her concerns to Kelamyn. What could two wolves do, anyway? Time passed steadily, and Baaja continued to grow and learn of her world alongside her rescuer. She ate up knowledge like a starving newborn, and was prone to questioning any and every thing. She and Kelamyn got along very well, and the latter was happy to answer all of the youth's wild questions. It seemed Baajaril's misery was at an end, wasn't it? Surely nothing worse could befall the young female. Of course, Fate would have different ideas, and one crisp spring morning the pair caught scents of a pack. Not just any pack, no. It was Hn'varag.

Baaja had told her friend plenty of the horrid pack, and the two wolves were swift to head the other way. However, they ran straight into an exploring patrol. One of the wolves was none other than Emarla, Baaja's mother. The white wolf rushed to her child, a wrong move according to the others she was with. They yanked her back before she and Baaja could get out any words - and the young female was suddenly overcome with fury. She'd spent the past months realizing how much better life could be and now she was faced with some of the wolves who had tormented her, caused the death of her brother and best friend. Her mind was blurred by hatred, and she launched herself at one of the wolves. Chaos descended. Baajaril did not know exactly what happened, but suddenly everyone was fighting. Blow after blow - and somehow she took the guard down. Maybe he'd been small, and her size lent her the luck to win. But she had killed him.

She looked around, and things changed. Emarla was bloody and still beneath a guard, and Kelamyn was struggling against two others, who on their own would have been beaten surely. Baaja charged at one, hoping the distraction would lend her mentor enough to win. She swiped and bit, and her opponent retaliated, though he was backing away. He ended up fleeing, and she chased for a moment, then spun round to return to Kelamyn and her mother. Her mother! The she-wolf was laying still on the ground, and Kelamyn was too! Baajaril quailed where she stood. There were two guards over her mentor, so she ran towards them. Only to skid to a halt as three more wolves burst from the brush - one being the wolf she'd chased off. They charged her, and she knew she had no chance. Again she ran.

The next weeks she traveled, bitter and frustrated. Her mother was dead, she was sure of it. She didn't know what had become of Kelamyn. Either way, Hn'varag had won. Over her, anyway. They had taken everyone she'd loved. But she was done. She journeyed far, far away from the trouble. She'd been told running away was bad. But what choice did she have? It was fear, again, that sent her fleeing. She was ashamed, but went on, further from the pack that had for so long haunted her. And it faded from her thoughts for the most part, as time went on. She was able to push it aside and focus on living again. Eventually forturne turned her way again - though at first it didn't seem so. Stumbling across a lone wolf facing a bear, Baajaril followed her instincts to defend the other, despite knowing nothing about him. She managed to save the both of them, and then he in turn healed her wounds. Donovan, he was called. They ended up traveling together, even after Baajaril had regained her strength. She was wary, afraid to lose again, but warmed swiftly, and the two became close friends over the course of a few months.

Just before they reached strange lands, she and Donovan were separated during a fierce storm. Distraught, Baaja has set her goal to find her friend, wherever he may be. The storm left her weak and lost, and she ended up finding a pack of wolves, called Chogan. They were strong and she was tempted - and so she joined. Perhaps now, with the strength of a pack, she will be able to find Donovan.

In-Group History: Nothing yet.

Relationships: Link!

E A R N I N G S

November 2016
- RP Tracker (+3 Feathers)

December 2016
- Sentinel (+7 Feathers)
- Sorbet Silence (+6 Feathers)

January 2017
- Balinkie (+4 Feathers)

March 2017
- Her Part (+5 Feathers and 30 EXP)
- Touch Meme (+8 Feathers)
- It's a Start (+2 Feathers and 15 EXP)
- AC: Distrust (+9 Feathers and 10 EXP)

April 2017
- Expression Meme (+8 Feathers)

May 2017
- Baaja Medallion (+7 Feathers)

June 2017
- Disturbed (+8 Feathers and 20 EXP)

July 2017
- Baaja's Choice (+8 Feathers)
- Leaves Chogan to become a rogue.
- Back To Me (+4 Feathers and 15 EXP)

October 2017
- Home Is Not A Place

Current Total: 74 Feathers | 90 EXP
Overall Total: 74 Feathers | 90 EXP

Character (c) Zoketi
HotL Group (c) Rightful Creators
Application Sheet (c) Siphiri

Description

11/13/16: ...Oopsie. Blaming a bunch of friends for this. >3> But hEY!! This group looks pretty neat! and I'm in a better place now, real-life terms, and now that I've gotten my RPs to a manageable level, I feel like I can spread out a little more. ;u;
I'll likely add more details to my form, but for now I'm keeping it simple!
Also that history ... I did not plan for it to be that long and dark and cliche, rip.
11/14/16: Salem is full, but that's okay! It actually inspired a lil mini plot for her and her friend! <3
11/14/16: Aaaa I got in, whoop whoop! ;u; Added a couple more details to her bio too!
7/18/17: Switched to rogue. Preparing to wrap things up and leave. uwu

I N T R O

Name: Baajaril ("Baah-jaah-rill")
Nicknames: Baaja
Age (Current): Young Adult - 2 Years, 4 Months
Age (Joined): 2 Years, 4 Months
Gender: Female
Height: 35"
Weight: 115 lbs
Appearance: First glance gives a few easy words: large, pale, and hard to miss. She is unnaturally large for a female, and heavily built - muscled and buff. This being said, she's been mistaken for a male quite a few times. Her fur is creamy, and fades along a red spectrum near her face, back, and down her tail. Rough and somewhat coarse to the touch, Baaja's pelt is not the prettiest, but it is thick and serves to keep her warm. It tangles easily, however, and is often ruffled and askew, particularly since she rarely tends to it. Baaja has a thick tail, wide ears, and very poofy cheek fluff. She also has a snaggletooth that pokes out on the left side of her snout. A couple scars adorn her pelt, tributes from past experiences.
Scent: Thick, dry coniferous woods.
Voice: Low, melodic, only slightly feminine. (Looking for actor..)

D E T A I L S

Pack: None
Rank: Rogue

Personality:
Independent & Self-Confident
Despite a troubled childhood, Baajaril holds herself with certainty. She is proud of who she is, what she looks like, and what she stands for. It has always been part of her to stand up on her own, even when she was young. She belongs to no one; she is her own, and she is strong. At times her confidence may transition to arrogance, though she is usually able to reign it back. In general she is aware of her own limits, and is not so boastful except perhaps when joking.

Sensible & Imaginative
Baajaril views the world through reason and reality. She has never been subject to a religion, and the idea of gods simply puzzles her. It does invest her curiosity, however, which is a strong force on its own. Baaja revels in having a well-learned mind as well as a fit exterior, for she thinks knowledge is as great a power as fighting skill. Learning came easy for her, thought it was rough in her early days, and she was always eager to push herself forwards and ask questions when uncertainty arose. Her imagination stretches far, but she does understand the limits of the world itself - at least, what she believes are the limits.

Belligerent & Resentful
Being large and powerful on the outside, one would expect her to use her skills a great deal, and that she does. With somewhat of a temper, Baajaril is prone to snapping out and telling someone else how she sees things. She knows she can fight, and so she uses this to her advantage. Anyone who threatens her will face a challenge, or at least some sort of retaliation. She does not like to be toyed with, or dismissed, and is known to hold a grudge for a very long time.

Harsh & Awkward
Aside from being short-tempered, Baaja can come across quite cold - if she gets a bad vibe from someone. Basically, she's very honest about whether or not she likes someone, unless subtley is required for her surival. She will say it how it is. If it upsets someone, she usually finds herself more puzzled than empathetic. Not very good at comforting, she'll go the 'buck it up, son' sort of route. In general, she is a little socially withdrawn, and tends to avoid large groups. Sometimes the more in-depth signals leave her clueless, and she at times will grumble when she doesn't understand what's going on.

Protective & Loyal
Though she struggles with forming relationships, Baajaril ends up often very close to those she does connect to. She is keen on keeping bonds, and goes out of her way at times to spoil and respect her friends and family. She would lay down her life for them, no doubt. They are her most important part of life.
Likes: Light and few company, wind in her fur, winning a fight, accomplishing things, mountains, eating.
Dislikes: Big crowds, rainfall, losing at most anything, being underestimated, deep water.
Other: N/A
Themes: Parrot , Blame

Family: Emarla (Mother, NPC), Vardrir (Father, NPC), Mahklen (Brother, NPC)

Orientation: Panromantic, demisexual.
Preference: Either gender, particularly with soft fur colors and bright eyes. She likes scars (to her this shows experience) as well. Skill that outmatches her own (would invoke a false hatred that means she's interested). On the other paw, has a soft spot for the meek and cute (ones she can protect).

Current Interests: N/A
Past Interests: N/A

Mate: N/A
Offspring: N/A

P A S T

Pre-Group History/Backstory: [Warning: Violence/gore]
A hard rain pattered the ground outside the den, where a white she-wolf had just littered two pups. It was early in the season, the threat of frosts still very real, and the birth had been hard on the mother. She was part of a large pack, though not by choice. Just months before, she and her mate had been taken by a patrol and forcibly brought to the pack, which was known as Hn'varag. Her mate had fought back, and he'd been instantly killed. The she-wolf, Emarla, would have wished death upon herself had she not been pregnant. She was shoved aside, under watch of the pack, and told her pups would be fodder soldiers. There was no choice in the matter, and the next month passed with Emarla sinking into depression, barely keeping herself alive. She'd begun to understand some of Hn'varag's workings, but it was a black and horrid reality. The pack seemed to be ruled by a select few - a family group most likely. There were two alphas, a pair of cruel males - twins, surely. The bulk of the pack held in by the royal guard, warriors with frightening skill and the ability to kill so fast few ever tried to go against them. She-wolves were considered breeding tools unless they were barren. Pups were taken once they were weaned and thrown into a small group of 'youth soldiers'. These were the first line of defense. Casualties were a given. If the young survived to their second year, they were deemed a packmate. War was Hn'varag's lifeblood. They were nomadic, and sought battle. Few ever escaped their clutches.

It was this group that Emarla's pups would be subjected to. She blamed herself of course. She and her mate had wandered too close, and he'd paid with his life. Now her children would be forced into battle, likely to die before their first year. For a moment, Emarla considered killing the two newborns. They were already weak, thanks to her emaciated lifestyle. How would they make it a day, a week? But if she killed them, she'd surely be punished. Fear clouded her mind. She let them nurse, and fell into an agonizing slumber. The next month the pups grew steadily. Though far from fat and healthy, they were kept alive and fed. Emarla had named them: Baajaril, the creamy female, and Mahklen, the russet male. She was not the only female with a litter - and this may have kept her from total darkness. A friendship formed with a blue-furred she-wolf named Lilreeni, who had four dark puppies. They were offspring of one of the royal guard... a forced mating - which was hardly unheard of here. A flicker of light, however, was the bond that Emarla and Lilreeni shared.

Baajaril did not question her presence in this dark, bloody world. It was all she had ever known - she could not fathom anything better, or worse. Hunger was a familiar friend, as was fear. She was used to big wolves walking big, leering at her and her brother and even her mother, who shirked from them even more than her children did. Baaja focused on growing up. While she was used to the environment, she did not like what it did to her and her kin - particularly Emarla. She pestered her mother with questions, but they were often unanswered. She played with Mahklen constantly, telling him they ought to learn how to be big and strong - so they could defend their mother! Mahklen was shyer and more prone to hiding and sleeping, but he was fierce when prompted by his sister. They made fast friends with Lilreeni's litter, too. Baajaril particularly bonded with the youngest pup, a silver-blue female called Uchetir. They were quite alike in personality, and became a formidable puppy pair. Despite long nights of hunger, there was something to smile about. Baaja had friends, and she had her family. One day, she'd bring them a better home. This she promised to herself.

Weaning came with a shock. The six pups - not plump, but filling out - were taken suddenly into the night. A trio of guards herded them away from their mothers to a clearing. A clearing sharp with pain and fear. Within sat ten or so young wolves - ranging from around six months to nearly two years. They were guant, scarred, and shied away at the approach. Baaja, her brother, and Lilreeni's litter were shoved forwards. A few of the adolescents cast them pitying looks. When daylight came, Baaja knew why. She was suddenly faced by a huge guard, and her friends were each paired with their own huge opponent. Training had begun. It lasted for a month or so. During that time the six pups saw only each other, the other young wolves, and the guards they fought. They did not know how to get to the main camp where their mothers were. They had never been out in the territory before. But, they had no time to explore. Once the sun rose, they were forced to train. To fight, against wolves twice or three times their size. Blood was spilled, enough to teach the pups - at least that was what they were told. They fought into the night, then allowed to sleep. No one had energy to do anything else. The cycle repeated day after day.

Then, everything was uprooted. The pack moved. The young wolves were pushed along, circled by guards, at the head of the pack. Baaja glimpsed her mother behind them, with the rest, but she was not permitted to step out of the guard circle. They traveled for a week, perhaps, but the time blurred and Baaja was not sure in the end. When they stopped, one of Lilreeni's litter fell and did not get up. A guard picked him up and took him away, and he was not seen again. This was the first true emotional pain Baajaril felt. But there was no time to grieve. She, along with her brother, the rest of Lilreeni's pups, and all the other adolescents, were dragged along with a crew of guards and a battalion of other packmates. They faced a line of strangers, angry and big. A signal was given, and fighting ensued. Baaja had never seen this before. This was what real battle was. Snapping jaws and swiping paws, flicking blood off into the snow. Their enemies seemed baffled by the tiny warriors, but fought nonetheless, and Baaja was terrified. She tried to fight - oh she tried. But she ended up fleeing more than throwing blows. Her pelt grew slick with blood, some of it her own and some of it not. This was panic. Desperately, she sought out her brother and her friends. Ducking from a snarling stranger, she spotted Mahklen, backing away from another enemy. He held one paw to his chest; it was mangled and dripping blood. Baaja screeched and lauched herself at the enemy. Chomp down on his flank! He howled and turned, sinking teeth into her shoulder and throwing her aside. Thud! Her head screamed in pain, and the world turned black.

When she woke, it was quiet. Dead silent. Snow covered the ground, but it was churned and stained red. There were bodies... everywhere. Nothing moved! Where had they gone? Baaja shivered, fighting bile in her throat and panic in her chest. Where had they gone?? She stumbled forwards, and her eyes caught sight of a familiar cream-and-rust pelt. Her heart jumped into her throat. "Mahklen?" He was.. nearly unrecognizable. His forepaw! What happened to it? Had the enemies done this? She inched forwards, sniffing. He smelled of the guards too. T-they hadn't - why? He was dead, no doubt. Baaja turned away, tears streaming down her face. She gagged and fought her way through the snow, trying to escape the battlefield. Another body caught her eye. Bluish fur... it was Uchetir, her best friend. She couldn't look anymore, and ran. Choking on her tears, the cream pup fled through the woods. She ran until she passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Again, Baajaril woke to cold silence. Her pelt was a mess, bloody and sticky. Her wounds ached and stung, and her stomach was twisted. She was hungry, and yet the battle scene made her feel as if any food she ate would be thrown up. A sense of desperation took over. She was lost, alone, and injured. Hopeless, she fell into a dreamless sleep. Sharp pricks brought her to consciousness. Someone was pulling on her fur. Eyes opened to see a crow. It hopped back as she moved, squawking once. Baaja whimpered, glancing around to see a crowd of dark birds. Carrion-eaters! She was going to die. However, a thunder of pawsteps made her look up. The birds fled in a flurry of wings and cawing, and Baaja hid her face, expecting to be eaten by something else. Instead a nose prodded her, and she peeked up into a set of pale green eyes. Calm, kind eyes. They belonged to a strange wolf, tawny in color and big in stature. But she resonated friendliness, not anger or the desire to harm.

Her name was Kelamyn, and she took in the troubled pup. Set her up on her paws and cleaned her wounds, told her everything would be okay. At first Baaja was wary and distrustful, but the weeks turned into months and she grew - both mentally and physically - and came to trust the tawny female. Kelamyn taught her things anew. How to fight - not by beating Baaja up, but through careful practice. How to hunt - something that the creamy youth struggled with - particularly when it came to speed. But she was not hit for being wrong, not abused. The kindness was baffling but oh so wonderful. Never had a stranger shown any compassion prior to this. It gave her such hope. The world was not as awful as her birth pack had been. Rejuvenated, Baaja reached her first year while traveling with Kelamyn, suddenly a healthy young wolf.

Despite her new life, Baajaril thought constantly about her former, and in particular, her mother. How one time she had promised her family and friends a better life. Some of them were dead. The others, she did not know. It troubled her, but she did not voice her concerns to Kelamyn. What could two wolves do, anyway? Time passed steadily, and Baaja continued to grow and learn of her world alongside her rescuer. She ate up knowledge like a starving newborn, and was prone to questioning any and every thing. She and Kelamyn got along very well, and the latter was happy to answer all of the youth's wild questions. It seemed Baajaril's misery was at an end, wasn't it? Surely nothing worse could befall the young female. Of course, Fate would have different ideas, and one crisp spring morning the pair caught scents of a pack. Not just any pack, no. It was Hn'varag.

Baaja had told her friend plenty of the horrid pack, and the two wolves were swift to head the other way. However, they ran straight into an exploring patrol. One of the wolves was none other than Emarla, Baaja's mother. The white wolf rushed to her child, a wrong move according to the others she was with. They yanked her back before she and Baaja could get out any words - and the young female was suddenly overcome with fury. She'd spent the past months realizing how much better life could be and now she was faced with some of the wolves who had tormented her, caused the death of her brother and best friend. Her mind was blurred by hatred, and she launched herself at one of the wolves. Chaos descended. Baajaril did not know exactly what happened, but suddenly everyone was fighting. Blow after blow - and somehow she took the guard down. Maybe he'd been small, and her size lent her the luck to win. But she had killed him.

She looked around, and things changed. Emarla was bloody and still beneath a guard, and Kelamyn was struggling against two others, who on their own would have been beaten surely. Baaja charged at one, hoping the distraction would lend her mentor enough to win. She swiped and bit, and her opponent retaliated, though he was backing away. He ended up fleeing, and she chased for a moment, then spun round to return to Kelamyn and her mother. Her mother! The she-wolf was laying still on the ground, and Kelamyn was too! Baajaril quailed where she stood. There were two guards over her mentor, so she ran towards them. Only to skid to a halt as three more wolves burst from the brush - one being the wolf she'd chased off. They charged her, and she knew she had no chance. Again she ran.

The next weeks she traveled, bitter and frustrated. Her mother was dead, she was sure of it. She didn't know what had become of Kelamyn. Either way, Hn'varag had won. Over her, anyway. They had taken everyone she'd loved. But she was done. She journeyed far, far away from the trouble. She'd been told running away was bad. But what choice did she have? It was fear, again, that sent her fleeing. She was ashamed, but went on, further from the pack that had for so long haunted her. And it faded from her thoughts for the most part, as time went on. She was able to push it aside and focus on living again. Eventually forturne turned her way again - though at first it didn't seem so. Stumbling across a lone wolf facing a bear, Baajaril followed her instincts to defend the other, despite knowing nothing about him. She managed to save the both of them, and then he in turn healed her wounds. Donovan, he was called. They ended up traveling together, even after Baajaril had regained her strength. She was wary, afraid to lose again, but warmed swiftly, and the two became close friends over the course of a few months.

Just before they reached strange lands, she and Donovan were separated during a fierce storm. Distraught, Baaja has set her goal to find her friend, wherever he may be. The storm left her weak and lost, and she ended up finding a pack of wolves, called Chogan. They were strong and she was tempted - and so she joined. Perhaps now, with the strength of a pack, she will be able to find Donovan.

In-Group History: Nothing yet.

Relationships: Link!

E A R N I N G S

November 2016
- RP Tracker (+3 Feathers)

December 2016
- Sentinel (+7 Feathers)
- Sorbet Silence (+6 Feathers)

January 2017
- Balinkie (+4 Feathers)

March 2017
- Her Part (+5 Feathers and 30 EXP)
- Touch Meme (+8 Feathers)
- It's a Start (+2 Feathers and 15 EXP)
- AC: Distrust (+9 Feathers and 10 EXP)

April 2017
- Expression Meme (+8 Feathers)

May 2017
- Baaja Medallion (+7 Feathers)

June 2017
- Disturbed (+8 Feathers and 20 EXP)

July 2017
- Baaja's Choice (+8 Feathers)
- Leaves Chogan to become a rogue.
- Back To Me (+4 Feathers and 15 EXP)

October 2017
- Home Is Not A Place

Current Total: 74 Feathers | 90 EXP
Overall Total: 74 Feathers | 90 EXP

Character (c) Zoketi
HotL Group (c) Rightful Creators
Application Sheet (c) Siphiri