tAR: Gareth

––––––––––––––––––* BASIC IDENTIFICATION *––––––––––––––––––

Nicknames/Aliases: 

Age: Elder

Gender:  Male

Height: 39

Weight: 181

Family: Siana (Daughter/Deceased) Carys (Former Mate/Deceased)

Friends: None

Rank: Rogue

Role: Exile

––––––––––––––––––* DETAILED IDENTIFICATION (optional) *––––––––––––––––––

Build: Solidly built, age has taken it's toll. The years have been kind, but his flesh hangs a little looser, and his shoulders stoop with the weight of age. He is solidly built, for all his age.

Face Shape: His thick snout descends into thick tufts of fur that has extended past his jowls. His face is thick furred with a winter coat.

Scars/Deformities: Small scars crisscross his front paws and legs. A thick scar on his left side, glancing across his ribs. His body bears the numerous marks of many battles won and lost.

Voice: Lance Henrickson

Scent: Pine, and a light hint of snow damp fur.

Posture/Stance: Dominant

Walk Style: Confident, but often weary.

Quirks/Gestures: He has a resting scowl most times. He is extremely prone to nodding off mid conversation.

––––––––––––––––––* PERSONALITY *––––––––––––––––––

Overview: Gareth is an old and weary soul. He has made many mistakes, and it has cost him everything that matters. The weight of his years has begun to prey on him, and he is past his prime, though he has struggled to stay healthy. He is gruff, and grumpy, treating most creatures he encounters as unruly pups who won't leave him be to nap. For all his thorny nature, he loves to tell stories, in the unlikely event he doesn't drive any potential listeners away. He is more tolerant these days than he once was in his youth, slower to anger.He will often step in if the strong prey on the weak for no purpose. While he might grumble the entire time, he will stand up to tyrants and petty abuse of power, for no other reason than because it entertains him (or so he tells himself). In truth he lives to be a wolf his Daughter would be proud to call Father.
He has authority issues as a whole, and refuses to bow to any beast, and certainly not to Man.

Traits: Chivalrous | Remorseful | Crotchety | Surly | Shrewd | Experienced | Driven | Earthy

External Conflict(s): He is alone, and on a one wolf pilgrimage through unknown lands. He will likely butt heads with just about anyone with a lot of arrogance.

External Motivation(s): He claims to just be a traveler, an old wolf who meddles too often, and naps too rarely.

Internal Conflict(s): He struggles with his own mistakes, and the choices that led to his Daughters death. He struggles with his anger at the world.

Internal Motivation(s): He wants to truly become someone his daughter could have been proud of. He regrets not trying harder while he still had the chance, and even more so, despises himself for the wolf he once was.

Likes: Stories, Pine trees, Naps, Deflating over-inflated egos, Pretending to fall asleep to get someone to shut up and go away.

Dislikes: Arrogance (not Pride), Being ordered about, Loud Puppies, Quiet Puppies, Man

Fears:  Making the same mistakes, Failing his Daughter, Living

––––––––––––––––––* HISTORY *––––––––––––––––––

Pre-Group: 
Childhood: Gareth grew up fighting for every scrap of food, and every fleeting moment of peace. The pack he grew up in was overpopulated, and barely held together. Constant infighting, and constant displays of dominance, while the pack struggled to feed itself. He remained oblivious to the subtleties of the pack politics. Each day filled with the constant struggle for scraps between the pups, Gareth quickly learned that the strong eat, and the weak starve. As he grew, the harsh lessons of his desperate scraps and tussles, and humiliating defeats by larger and older wolves taught him to be Strong.

Adolescence: With each passing month, Gareth grew quickly, packing on lean muscle, and towering over his surviving litter mates. He soon found himself the target of older adolescents, who would follow him, striving to take any successful prey from his amateur first hunts. Such was always the way, the strong take from the weak. Tiring quickly of their so called "Tithe", Gareth killed for the first time. The older pup harassed everyday, stealing the scrawny squirrels, or occasional rabbits Gareth would catch. He remembers lunging for the older pups throat, surprise briefly flickering in his eyes. He had thought Gareth cowed, another fear filled pup, quick to jump at an order. Gareth sank his teeth deep, and refused to let go, clamping his jaws as tightly as he could. He remembers the sudden hot wash of blood, and the stunned silenced that followed. That was the last day one of the other youths tried to steal from him.

Young Adult: Ambitious, and eager, Gareth was quick to challenge those above him, and often found himself with blood and bruises to show for his naked ambition. However, as time passed, he drew more of the pack under his influence. The Alpha quickly grew paranoid of Gareth's spreading influence, and growing disrespect for his word. Seeking to step on this thorn in his side, he confronted Gareth to establish dominance. Their snarls echoed across the low hills, and their blood stained the grass as they tore into each other, tooth and claw. He finds it difficult to remember just how long they fought, but in the end he stood over the Alpha's still body. He remembers digging into his fallen foe, ripping into flesh, until he held a ragged piece of the fool's heart for all to see. Swallowing it down, he let loose a howl of victory, turning to his new pack. The strong would rule.

Adult: Ruling as Alpha for several seasons, Gareth culled the pack, exiling those who would not support him, and reminding those who might challenge him to tread lightly. One spring, he found a confounding female skirting the edge of his territory. When he challenged her presence, her sarcastic reply brought a surprised bark of laughter. He soon learned her name was Carys, and he found excuse after excuse to patrol the border that she would occasionally frequent. He would lounge under the fir trees with her, as she told him stories of the world, stories of strange beasts that dwelled to the south. Tales of Man, and tales she would weave from her own beautiful mind. They became mates, and for a time they were happy. With her belly growing with their children, the Betas ambitious eyes gleamed behind Gareth's back. As she went into labor, Gareth paced at the entrance to their small den, glaring at the Shaman chanting over his straining wife. Breathless, sides heaving, the Beta burst in, gasping about an attack by a neighboring pack . Gareth waited only for the weary nod of his mate, before he dashed out, snarling for the Beta to protect his wife. As he darted forward through the forest, he caught the sharp scent of those lying in wait, already too far to turn back. It all snapped into focus. He desperately turned, hearing the ambushers tear free from the brush, hot at his heels. He grunted with pain as one wolf slammed a shoulder into his hindquarters, spinning him about. Three wolves faced him, and cowards all. With a snarl of rage he lunged forward, throwing his full weight at the largest of his opponents. He remembers his desperate rage, the fear coursing through him. His mate... his pups... Snapping at the other wolves leg, he let the wolf clamp onto his should. He might bleed, but with a snarl, and a twist of his head, the sudden loud snap insured that the other wolf would never walk again if Gareth had his way. pulling free of the screaming wolf's jaws, he whirled to meet the charge of the other two. He fought them for all too long, but the savagery of his first attack made them hesitate. Ever the cowards. Trade blow and bite, he made them bleed enough to flee for reinforcements. With his brief reprieve, he ran with all his might back towards the den. Bleeding, and weary he came into the den, the scent of blood and offal making his eyes water. She was so still.... so quiet. 
With a sudden surge of movement, he closed the distance, slamming full force into his Beta, with no heed to himself. He felt the sharp tear of teeth into his skin, but he pushed forward, driving his own teeth home with the full force of his charge. With a snarled, muted by a mouthful of flesh, Gareth twisted and turned, thrashing his body as hard as he could. Shaking the Beta savagely, tearing his own wounds wider, but worrying his teeth deeper into the Beta. He thrashed until he felt the flow of blood into his mouth slow and thicken. He turns to her still body, and the still forms gathered around it. So tiny, so... so frail. Yet, there was movement, a single wriggling pup, blindly nursing her still mother. Hearing the howls growl closer, he turned to the lone pup, trying so hard not focus on the bright shock of red around his beloveds throat. Gently scooping up the protesting puppy, he ran for the first time in his life. He ran until his blood dried thick and tacky in his coat, and his knees buckled with weariness. He had long ago left the howls behind, and now exhausted beyond reason, he curled around the lone crying pup, and slept. 

Elder: The seasons passed, and he traveled with Siana, his daughter, who with each passing month smiled back at him with her Mother's mischievous smile. The pup often fell ill, though Gareth found a nomadic shewolf to nurse his daughter in return for fresh kills. All the same, she was a small, and frail child, never truly achieving good health.
 They would hunt, and travel, sleeping beneath fallen fir trees at night, as he would tell her stories of the lands her Mother had visited, of the beasts Carys had slain, and of the strange things she had seen. Of the wars he had fought, and the things he had learned. She was quick to respond with a quick wit, and a sharp tongue. 
She was entirely too social for Gareth's tastes. Sharing kills with other nomads, cats, and conversations with any other critter that crawled, flew, scuttled, or walked across her path. Always fishing for more stories, she could never know enough tales to tell. He would lounge nearby, listening to them trade stories, and keeping a wary eye on any wolf or Cat that would think his frail daughter easy prey. So it was that she began to hear of Man, and her eyes glistened at the prospect of seeing something so strange. As they traveled together, he found himself learning nearly as much from her, as she had from him. She was oddly wise beyond her years, and with time he found himself shifting in his thinking. Greeting prey! When full anyway. For all her weakness, she possessed a fire he never had. A strength that he had only just begun to understand through her mother, but through which she herself lived such an example of. 
They traveled together for years, when they came upon man for the first time. A human, wearing long dead skin by the smell. He smelled like a pup, and seemed so small. Limbs so thin. He slunk forward, giving his daughter a stern look, but restraining a smile at the light in her eyes. He turned forward, watching the beast stab his sharp stick into the water. This pup should be learning to hunt, not slapping at the water. He heard a faint rustle as his daughter edged forward. "Siana," He whispered, "Still yourself." 
He should have turned them back. Should have curbed her curiosity. Maybe she wouldn't have stepped into the open, barking a greeting. The Manpup was startled, and suddenly that stick was flying through the air. He scarcely remembers his howls of rage and mourning, as he watched her body crumple, wrapped around that wooden haft. He remembers her last words. Urging him to spare the manpup, to not be angry, to not hold on to hate. Always thinking of others, always.... He carried her body, to their sleeping tree. Her mother and her had always loved the smell of the pine needles. He lay his head against her neck and howled till his throat was cracked and raw, and unconsciousness claimed him.
Group: None yet

Activity & Fossils: