Registration Date: 05-09-2013
Last Visit: 11-28-2013 02:54 AM
Total Posts 21
Played By: HYSTERIA

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822

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Age VI	Gender Male
Species Halfling	Sexuality Heterosexual
Mate	Pack --
Rank --	Alignment The God of Omens

Relations:

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Other Info:

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Reference

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Without any extraordinary features to possess, the man carries a rather stocky, robust build, muscles packed along his shoulders and chest, lining his limbs with powerful promise. The concentration of his thick muscles can be mostly found in his shoulders and hind quarters, earning him the ability for quick spurts of speed and strength, though lacking in endurance and stamina. Pulling back from his musculature come the pelt that dress his figure, coffee in color diluted in milk to earn him a lovely tan brown. That same milk has earned its place upon his shoulders and along the length of his back, speckled across his maw and ribboned on the lengthy tail he possesses. Stripes of pure coffee finally take hold and gift his back with its presence, also diving down in factions along his tail and finding its home slipping from his nose to find a snug fit aside the milked lips of the man. His toes are lightly dipped in the milk, claws only equally as white. As mentioned the man has grown a rather feline like tail, resembling that of a lion or other short haired cat, with it a long fan of lengthy hairs trailing from the mid section and extending outwards to the tip. This curtain of hair is blonde, traces of a stunning blue in its midst. Erupting from his crown is a waterfall of blonde, rushing to adorn his face and frame his jaw. Blue is found at the tips along his jaw as well as dipped slightly in the front. Radiating from his neck continues that blonde much like that of a horse's mane, falling to rest between his shoulders, carrying with it a stringy length that tangles and dances in the air with every movement. His eyes are a sullen orange.

If one was to say the he was a gentleman, you wouldn't be far from the count. Civil, level-headed and calm is the man, exuding an air of confidence that doesn't scream arrogant or otherwise. Often a noble and kind sir, he resorts to flattery and praise to the women he meets, charming in his approach. He is, without question, a traditionally driven man, born in the wrong time and holding strong to his beliefs. He leads a simple life, enjoying the little things and fondly attached to all that is nature and caring for the children. Known to be a fatherly figure, it isn't rare for him to be found playing with the little ones, telling them stories and indulging their sense of curiosity and adventure. Love is a serious matter for Ferricor, entirely devoted, seeking the warmth in the arms of a lover and the company of a companion. As he lost his bonded animal when he was in his younger years, it has changed him, leaving the void in his chest from her absence an ever weeping wound. Falling ill, she had succumb to disease, leaving the man still young and naive without a sense of hope to cure his heart ache. He hasn't come to terms with her death just quite yet, still found talking to her and asking for guidance.

A sheltered child, the I was born into a family of many, nothing really ever mine to own if not known for the family to share. Being the middle child of an ever growing family, several litters following before and after my birth, the attention of my parents was never something readily available for me to receive--likewise for my siblings. However, this wasn't to say that my childhood was any less lacking or that my parents any less loving of us all--that I understood and took without question. Thus, I accepted my standing in the family dynamic and had little to complain for, making use of my time tending to things my parents had no time for, caring for the young and ensuring the safety of the whole. We took care of each other and were a close unit, the eldest caring for the younger ones until they too came to the age where they could help and raise those that came after. My family, to say, was part of a very open and giving community. We were poor, but we had enough to make it by. The hunting grounds had little pickings, of that the pack knew, and because of it we cycled through as nomads, the other families following in pursuit of a place to settle and finally call home. There came a time, however, in my younger years where mother fell ill and lost her battle during the winter months. The family took it hard, father especially, unable to accept the loss. A few of the younger ones died that same winter, leaving a handful of the family that once was. By the time the group was ready to pick up and leave again, my father refused. Only a few spare number of my siblings remained by his side, taking my mother's burial ground and holding fast to her memory; that became our home. The others for either one reason or the other continued on with the Nomads or broke way to find their own calling. My father worked hard trying to find enough food to keep us alive, often gone the majority of the day with a small catch of food to show for his efforts. Those who were left helped, while I was left to tend for the young. Eventually my father never came home from one of his expeditions. We never found him. My older siblings grew bitter and accused my father of abandoning us. It wasn't long before they broke from the family. When the young ones were able to fend for themselves, soon they left, too. We were a shadow of our former selves. Afterwards, I set off on my own, tending to my own needs and wants and fulfilling my desires. That was when I met Plethora. She was the one I had shared my thoughts and soul with. I cherished every bit of her, finding solace in the companionship she had offered me. We spent a few years in each other's company before she, too, left me. Through illness she was taken from me, and I have never been the same. I still talk to her. I still feel her. I refuse to believe that the strength of our bond left nothing for me to remember her by.