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.
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.
Tue Mar 14, 2017 2:09 am by 
