tags: iridium , chased , heritageless, g1 , generation 1 one , male
* To reiterate, your account MUST be six months or LESS in age. If your account is over six months old, your entry will not be valid for this raffle.
BLURB
Lockjaw is a wolf I obtained from the giveaway chat for free. I spotted him in another user's den and noticed that he had an iridium base! This is one of my favorite bases, so I snatched him up quickly but as I do not plan to keep him permanently I thought that I'd set up a little raffle. I want to give Lockjaw to a newer account, with the hopes that he will find his forever home. I even wrote up a little backstory for him to give him some character!
I would not like if Lockjaw were sold in the market place, however the winner of this raffle can change him in any way that they see fit! He can even be regifted if the winner pleases, but again I would prefer that he is not sold for currency or chased. Though he doesn't have any special markings, he is a T3 heritageless wolf and is decently young-- all things pretty rare!
LOCKJAW
Lockjaw is a chased wolf! This means that he is heritageless, or generation 1, so he can start a new line or be used to keep your lineages clean. He has an iridium base, which is a tier 3 base-- one of the rarest categories of bases! Lockjaw is a male, and is roughly a year old at the time of posting. Due to being chased, his stats were rerolled to a total of 225.
If you want to learn more about Lockjaw, please click on his image to visit his page!
BIOGRAPHY
This is a brief biography I wrote for Lockjaw in hopes of giving him some character! When I saw him, he really stood out to me as a unique individual who deserved a unique backstory. Feel free to change or scrap this bio!
Warmth. Comfort. Safety.
His first memories were deep in the deciduous forest, snuggled among his mewling siblings and wedged into the crook of his mother's flank. Lockjaw's parents were a close pair-- each some time ago had decided to venture out from the security of their birth packs to begin anew the cycle of life. They hunted by night, quick as thieves in the undergrowth, and by day rested beneath warm spattering of sunlight with gorged bellies. Their young soon followed, learning first to eat regurgitated meals and then to growl and whine among themselves, and eventually to follow along on hunts. It wasn't long before the pups were taking down prey of their own. Grouse, rabbits, weasels-- the forest was bountiful. Stalk, kill, eat, rest, play, and again. These were the virtues by which they lived.
A day came when the family followed their mother to hunt. Dusk had just waned; the ashy sky silhouetted her strong and nimble body along the crest of a hill. For her signal, they waited below. Then came a terrible crack-- something louder than thunder, and more violent than lightning. She fell as she never had before, sudden and carelessly. Lockjaw was the last of his siblings to scatter, instead he watched his father mount the hill and then a surprised hunter. They wrestled fiercely, until another crack erupted and shattered the blanketing tranquility of the night sky. Lockjaw raced to rejoin his siblings, corralling them and driving the group downhill. The hunters seemed to appear from every quiet nook of the forest, frenzied and wild as the wolves themselves. This way! Lockjaw herded. Another splitting crack. Watch the trees! Crack. Hurry now! Crack.
Very suddenly, he became aware that he was alone in this newly terrifying world as he had never been before. He did not spare a backward glance, but instead tore down the hill side and toward the rushing river below. His burning limbs and heaving lungs carried him far from the echoing cracks, but not out of the hunter's range.
Another crack, another thunderous boom, another strike of terrible lightning. There was a searing pain skipping along the crest of his rump and down the length of his hind leg, so agonizingly powerful that the solid earth beneath him slipped loose from his grip and he was plunged into the shocking cold of the river currents.
Warmth. Comfort. Safety. Gone now.
It was hours before he could bring himself to his feet and shake loose his waterlogged fur. Days until he could find the strength to hunt once again, and even more until he learned to do so successfully without the help of other gnashing maws and prowling bodies. Months more before the terrible depression of isolation outweighed the crushing grief.
Lockjaw will never forget his past, but he chooses to remember the mewling of his siblings and the nightly hunts of weasel and grouse with his parents. He hopes one day to have young of his own, to protect and teach and eventually hunt beside. As he quests to find company in another pack, he reminds himself frequently: Never again will he go so quietly, like a hare being hunted. Next time, he will be the hunter. The cold river had graced him with the second chance to do so.
ENTRIES
All entries are free! To enter, you must follow the requirements below, and post a reply in this thread. The winner will be picked via a random number generator.
REQUIREMENTS
To enter, your account must be six months of age or less. I will verify each entry manually. This raffle will continue until January 9th, however this deadline is subject to change if there are few participants.
