-Preset-Faction: N/A
Rank: Shaman
Species: Liger
Gender: Male
Name: Dikota
Family Lineage: Born initially into the Ember Pond Faction, Dikota was one of four cubs born to the tigress Matat, their sire being a past leader of the faction. Though his frailty and startling, supernatural pelt nearly led to him being abandoned to the vicious wasteland, a hag of a tigress took him in, raising him in the darkness of her den. He was kept and reared in secret, lest he be slain upon sight for his strange appearance.
Personality: Dikota was estranged as a cub, raised alone and in darkness, shrouded in secrecy. He is a beast of few, and cryptic words. The old queen that raised him was far from her right mind, though she taught him well in the ways of the tigers, learning the uses of the various herbs and plants of the land, be they for intents both innocent and malicious. Before the anniversary of his second year, he was taken to the Tree of Souls, where the Shaman of the time, a strangely wise and oddly colored boar took him in, and taught him the art of reading the moon, stars, how to listen to the winds and heavens themselves to bring counsel to the beasts that sought it from them.
As he is often left to his lonesome now that his tutor has long since passed, Dikota spends most of his time tending to the tree itself and observing the great fire that burns within it, gazing into the flames for what seems like ages at a time. Some may even think that he sees the expanse of time through the blaze, unable to decipher the cryptic words he murmurs as he watches the fires dance.
Rp Sample: Dikota sat perched in his arboreal home, his head turned skyward as sapphire eyes watched the gentle twinkling of the stars.While the world around him sat in the deep silence of night, the liger could hear a symphony of voices. Some were soft, sweet, while others wept in his ears, others still let loose vicious cries of anger that rattled his senses, shaking him to the core as his body trembled.
"What do you see, Shaman?" A wolf asked shyly. Her voice was hushed, weak. It was a common misconception among the creatures of Eden, that he saw things to be foretold. But nay, spirits whispered their wisdom to him on the winds, only revealing themselves to be seen in his fleeting sleep.
"Grief claws at your soul, wolf. Welcome the cold and embrace it, let not fury stir your senses, hold fast to the earth and drink not from the offered paw." He spoke softly, his voice hoarse with a fury that was not his own. The hybrid turned his starlit gaze down upon the small ashen fae, seeing not the wolfess, but straight through her and the unborn pups that were coiled safely in her womb. "Their journey will not be one survived but one wrought from fire and tousled by the sands." He rose to his paws, stalking away from her, his words spent.
"Wait! S-surely.. There must be more, something.. Please.." She pleaded, chasing several waddling steps after him, her voice trembling with fear.
"Your path is not your own, child. What is to come cannot be avoided, only confronted." And with that said, he lept upwards to the more secluded boughs of the tree, his ghostly pale pelt slipping away and fading into the darkness. Crestfallen, the wolfess slowly trudged her way back down the precarious tree to find solid ground.
