OOC: Heya peeps, this is going to be a bit of background on one of the characters I am planning on making in FH. Fair warning I don't really write happy la la stories. So if your looking for a fairy tale with a happy start and a happy end look somewhere else. Now if you are looking for a violent tale, then your probably looking in the right place. Feedback is welcomed.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Karak, a vile pack where few wolves survive. The Karak begin their training at six moons. These pups are given nothing but scraps from their elders, and as such they have to learn to feed themselves. However being of their size there is little they are large enough to hunt, so they either starve or resort to more grotesque methods. Those methods I speak of are cannibalism. Not one shred of meat passes by these pups, wolf flesh or otherwise. After a year of this they are usually old enough to hunt for themselves, by this time their real training begins. The elders see to it that those that had survived are strong. To do this they put these wolves' bodies to their limits. A few that show promise are then taught basic battle tactics. After a year and a half of this they are put into the battlefield. The Karak is almost always in a war. Their howls strike fear into the hearts of their enemies, at least those that know of them. For those that do know of the Karak know of their fighting style, ripping gnashing, the Karak care not for honor, they only care for the thrill of war. Their howls do not sound of a average wolf, they sound more of a growl echoing in the winds, warning all who hear of it of the Karak's coming.
Jarok was one of these pups, however he unlike most of the other pups, did not have a taste for wolf flesh, yet still as a pup he learned to eat it. He grew with the training of the Karak as all other pups did. He was given the title Morohtar, which in the Karak was a great honor. The Morohtar was a title only given to few wolves in the Karak. They were the alpha's chosen warriors. They took their orders directly from the alpha, and acted as his fangs and claws in battle.
Jarok is a large wolf, he towers over most other wolves. He has a jet black pelt that seems to be woven of shadows. His body is littered with scars from battles. His eyes are like round sapphires. He scents of blood, no mater how many times he is washed the scent lingers. The smell haunts his steps, as if all the beings he had slain refused to give him rest.
After his ,sixth year in this world he decided to leave the Karak. Despite all he had earned among them it was no longer enough to bind him. He felt as if something was missing, something that warfare could no longer replace. So he set off on his own, to find this thing his soul yearned for so desperate. Ever since he has been traversing the plains, searching for something, yet never knowing what it was that he searched for.
