Name of Character: Rordan ("Little King Poet")
Age of Character: 21
Gender: Male
Personality: Poor Rordan. Mistaken as a beast, the cage of a monster, all on first impression. Fierce and unapproachable? No, Rordan the exact opposite of unapproachable. In fact, he is probably one of the gentlest wolves out here. Quiet as a church mouse, he rarely ever speaks, but when he does, his voice is calm and smooth, a very uplifting and or soothing tone. Only in the face of danger or a threat, will his voice spike firm and serious. But it is highly unlikely that the sweet composer of this pack would ripple, so that firm tone may never be heard. And though he rarely speaks or would be the first to strike a conversation with you, he makes sure to include himself in the pack to not seem like a loner. (He is also a very good listener, so if you have a problem and don't really have anyone to talk to you can always come vent your problems to him. Rordan may not have the answers, but he is a great person just to vent to.)
Appearance: Strong Rordan. He, like any other wolf of his kind, was abnormally large with only a soft white pelt, stained with maroon ocelot markings on his body and tail, while the markings of a king cheeta met his face and took it as it's home, separated him from the rest of his kind. His torn ears perked in slight pride, remind him to be thankful... His black turquoise eyes are always sensitive to emotion.
History: Southern Ireland is the place Rordan called home as a pup. Soft rolling hills, gentle sloping mountains, clear waters, bright healthy green grass, what a wonderful home to be born too. Rordan was born to a mother and about a year later came his three younger sisters. It seemed like the perfect life for a while, until that one faithful day....
A neighboring pack invaded, Rordan's pack. These wolves had come from the harsher lands, they where larger and stronger. Even the pups where frightening. How ruthless they where, leaving no wolf uninjured. It was maddening. One large male who fought against mother, who fought valiantly to protect her pups, disregarded her attempt as child's play and casted her aside. One by one, the male snatched up Rordan's sisters and ate them. Once he had finished off the last one, his attention turned to Rordan. Frozen in horror, he stood there, with his tail between his legs. Only a sharp pain in his ears cause him to snap from his trance and yelp out in pain. The male had a hold on Rordan by the ears, he was just about to take off Rordan's head when, the male was rudely interrupted by Mother. She had thrown herself at him, managing to knock him off her son. While the male was dazed by the sudden force, Rordan's mother told him to run. Run Fast, Run Far, Never Look Back. Frightened to death, he had no choice but to obey...and he bolted. Running as fast as his short little body would take him. And he continued to run, for about 16 years of his life, he ran. And now at the age of 21, he settled in this pack, as calm as he could be, Hoping never to have to run like that again.
Other: Though Rordan was built to go into battles and bring home kills, he would much rather watch over the pups or sit with the elders, listening to the stories they had to tell.
Player Name: Forum: Shade, Username: shadowexz
