Their eyes shine in the moon’s light as they fight. Their movements are fluid, smooth, and predatory. Lean, taunt muscles lay beneath different colors of fur and sharp incisors are visible beneath black gums. Blood spatters over their beautiful coats and color the ground red as they snap, tear, and wound each other.

Fur standing on end, you approach the two groups as they pause and separate as they take notice of your presence. Two pairs of eyes stand out to you and unnerve you. Both seemed to draw the respect out of you without your consent as you lower your head and tuck your tail between your legs. Power radiated from them both, and you’re unsure whether it was the large, dark grey male with golden eyes, or the black female with bright green eyes that had the strongest air to them. They both stood across from each other, and large groups of other wolves and Werelings in human forms stand on each side behind them. All of their eyes bore into you and you stop as you stand before the two obvious leaders.

Your muscles tense and they begin to shake as your wolf side slowly draws you towards one side, your true nature, good or evil, slowly reveals itself as you make your decision. Which side will you choose? Will you choose the path of light and good? Or the path of dark and evil?

Venantium or Eternals?


Last Updated: 01/27/2014

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Pack Census

Eternal Darkness
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Warrior Brutus

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1 Warrior Brutus on Sat Dec 14, 2013 6:55 pm

Name: Brutus Ceasar
   Age: 27 [280 in Wereling]
   Gender: Male
   Rank: Warrior
   Pack: Venantium

   Human Photo:


   


   Wolf Photo:


   



   Summary:
Brutus's story is like many others, a pure blood leaving his home country behind to run to America. How many of his friends had left the pack and went to the USA? Tons. When it was finally his turn to leave he never looked back. Not even thinking twice as he hugged his mother; the Alphess and his father; the Alpha goodbye. His brother was destined to run the pack, Brutus had a different love. It was fighting.

Goodbye merry old England, Brutus had other dreams and it involved the red, white and blue. Where everyone spoke about being free. Freedom? That was for the pansies, he wanted the land where he could earn a living beating someone down. That was his freedom, that was his enjoyment.

But after being here for years and countless fights, he realized one thing. It was all a shameless scam, he was just a immature wolf. Looking to take his anger out on the next victim that stepped into the ring. All he did was fight humans in a locked cage, he would give them a pounding of their life. Smashing, beating, punching and breaking their bodies until they laid unconscious. It was a gruesome rule-less sport but nonetheless, back then nothing pumped up his adrenaline more then a good fight.

When his opponent would catch the scrawny kid on the opposite side of the ring, he would hear that familiar laugh. They were fools to question his abilities and they were even dumber for underestimating him. Brutus didn't need tons of abs to fight, no he had other advantages speed along with durability. He knew he could take a hit and give a harder one in return. Once his wolf got roweled up there was no stopping him, the beast would be unleashed.

Brutus'the Beast' Ceasar

The nickname was stupid, he knew if his older brother ever heard it. He would call him a coward for picking on humans. Remind him that he should be in the woods fighting with a wolf that could match him. Still Brutus was lucky to make a ton of money from fighting, the odds had been in his favor for a very long time. He would pick up and move state to state, looking for something. He was never really sure what, but when he ended up in New York he figured he needed a change of pace. Even if he was a loner by choice it didn't bother him, he adapted with the world. Living day by day.

Brutus heard the whispers about packs in the area and he couldn't fight the urge to check one out. Attempting to keep his fighting to a minimal he went on the search to find a pack to offer him, the things he lacked.


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