Name:Cre (Based from the Romanian word 'Crezut' meaning thought)
Age (at most 200 years): 52
Gender: Male
Antler type: Pere David's Deer
Marking Types:Clouded Leopard: Spots on flank and the face markings; Sand Cat: The stripes on the chest; Cougar: The base coat;Euasian Lynx: The tipped ears.
Region: West
Rank: Trainee
Parents: Mother: Deceased (died after contracting a disease), Father: 150 years old
Personality:Cre is very intuitive and thinks outside the box. His mother gave him his name based on the fact that, even before he could see, Cre was always asking questions! And the more he learns, the more he wants to know! Sometimes he'll be so distracted, he'll just ramble on forever.
When alone, Cre often ponders why he's there on Anteer. His father tells him he's alive to defend their territory and to carry on the line of the Western Isnaroh, but Cre thinks that he's supposed to do something. He wants to be a great leader to make his mother proud, but knows such a thing can never happen.
Most of the time, he's very reserved and quiet. Most of the pack thinks Cre is shy, but he is thinking. About what? Why the sky is red, why he can't be leader, why the Sorith can't seem to just leave the Isnaroh alone!
Story:
Cre thought he'd share with you his first "hunt" story.
Age (at most 200 years): 52
Gender: Male
Antler type: Pere David's Deer
Marking Types:Clouded Leopard: Spots on flank and the face markings; Sand Cat: The stripes on the chest; Cougar: The base coat;Euasian Lynx: The tipped ears.
Region: West
Rank: Trainee
Parents: Mother: Deceased (died after contracting a disease), Father: 150 years old
Personality:Cre is very intuitive and thinks outside the box. His mother gave him his name based on the fact that, even before he could see, Cre was always asking questions! And the more he learns, the more he wants to know! Sometimes he'll be so distracted, he'll just ramble on forever.
When alone, Cre often ponders why he's there on Anteer. His father tells him he's alive to defend their territory and to carry on the line of the Western Isnaroh, but Cre thinks that he's supposed to do something. He wants to be a great leader to make his mother proud, but knows such a thing can never happen.
Most of the time, he's very reserved and quiet. Most of the pack thinks Cre is shy, but he is thinking. About what? Why the sky is red, why he can't be leader, why the Sorith can't seem to just leave the Isnaroh alone!
Story:
Cre wrote:My life began like all other Isnaroh, my mother gave birth to me in a dark, damp cave. She was a Hunter, my mother. She was fast and patient and strong. She would wrap herself around me in our little cave and tell me all the things I wanted to know. She would tell me stories; I still remember a few.
My father was a brave Defender. He would protect our cave and scout the area for Sorith. One day, he told me that we would run together all over the forests and mountains. He was a jolly wolf, that is, until my mother died.
It happened when I was old enough to become a trainee. She came home from hunting one day with a wound across her cheek. She said the rabbit she caught scratched her with it's claws. The Healer fixed the wound and we went on as normal until my mother's wound started to fester and become infected. She became so weak, she had to stop her duties and lay near where the Healer slept. One day, as I was finishing my trainee duties with my father, a friend of my father's came running up to us with his head low. "Celia," was all he said; my mother's name. I remember running all the way back to the pack trying to keep up with my father's fast pace. He stopped just before her body and whispered the word 'no'. Then he raised his head and sang the most mournful howl I've ever heard. All this time, I just stood there watching. "Why did my mother have to die?"
~~~~~~~~~~
Now, I am training to be a Defender. I guess I'm pretty good in a fight, but don't tell Father I said so. But, he wouldn't care anyway, he never cares about anything these days. I tried to learn hunting, too. I watched the Hunters and remembered how my mother hunted. They stalk the prey then run fast as lightning toward it and snap it's neck. I guess it just makes killing the creature more civilized. I wish I could learn both skills to be the best Isnaroh ever! Maybe I will, I feel I need to do something besides live my life afraid of the Sorith. Would they kill us if we could coexist? What about those bones the bull wears? Are they 'keepsakes' for the wolves he's killed? Gruesome, is what I think. Absolutely disgusting...
Cre thought he'd share with you his first "hunt" story.
Cre wrote:My first hunt was an exciting one. I was not about to fail, mind you, as I'm training to be a Defender, but wanted my father to be proud. It all started about a moon ago. I remember sitting on a cool, rocky cliff, waiting for the sun to to set. I saw that the Hunter's were very smart for hunting at dusk; the air was calm and the ground cool. I could almost taste the abundance of prey creeping from their hiding places to start their own quest for food.
Soon, more wolves were around me and the leader of the hunt signaled for us to follow her. We padded along a well-worn trail through the forest with our noses to the ground until the leader stopped short. I let out a Hmff! as I accidentally walked strait into the Isnaroh in front of me! I apollogized and tried to regain my conposure by shaking out my fur and looking to the leader as if nothing happened.
"What's going on?" the wolf in front of me asked. She was an offical hunter, with a pretty coat like a snow leopard. She swished her tail nervously, mimicking the actions of most of the group; they were on edge and I could tell why. A musty smell like wet fur drifted through the forest; the Defenders protecting us bristled. Suddenly, I head a loud crack and a large Sorith stepped out in front of us!
I took up my duties as a Defender and joined the others of my rank in standing up to the beast. As the Hunters swiftly ran back to the pack for help, the Sorith took its first target. He ran after the grey Hunter I had bumped into and thrust his horns into her side. I heard a yelp and raced to defend my pack-mate. A sharp bite to the neck made the Sorith turn his back on the she-wolf and face me instead. I growled and, of course, it growled right back. The other Defenders came up behind me, and one jumped on the beast's back. I bit back a cry when I relized the brave Isnaroh was my father! He's actually trying to save me! I thought. Another trainee Defender , a good friend of mine, stepped into the fight and stabbed the Sorith with her razor-sharp antlers. This outraged the animal and he bucked my father off, who landed with a thud on the hard ground. After sniffing to make sure he was okay, I swiped at the Sorith with my claws. It took a lunge at me and I barely missed being shishkabobbed alive! I heard more crashing though the trees and my blood turned ice cold. I jerked around, expecting more Sorith, but was releived to see our leader flying through the forest with renforcements. He slashed his powerful jaws while we distracted the Sorith. With that powerful bite to the head, we heard bones crunching and the creature slumped beneath out paws. I remember thinking that it was finally over, and that it was. I ran to the she-wolf who was first attacked and nuged her to her paws. She then thanked me for being so brave and first to act and told me her name of Kayana. We limped back with not a single piece of meat, but with scars and stories we will surely tell for generations.
Three facts:
1. Isnaroh have antlers like today's sheep and deer.
2. The bull Sorith is albino and has bones tied in his fur.
3. Defenders wear bracers on their front legs.
