ID #10410488
This wolf is currently on a breeding cool down. She will be able to fall pregnant again in 5 rollovers!
This wolf has not rolled over today and will not be able to be traded or gifted until its next rollover.
This wolf has not rolled over today and will not be able to be traded or gifted until its next rollover.
| Currents | |
|---|---|
| Age | 1 year 11 months (Adult) |
| Sex | Female |
| Energy |
|
| Mood |
|
| Hunger |
|
| HP |
|
| Personality | Fair |
| Breeding Information | |
|---|---|
| Age in Rollovers | 46 |
| Pups Bred | 3 pups bred |
| Last Bred | 2024-08-14 02:40:41 |
| Fertility | Good |
| Heat Cycle | On Cooldown |
| Items Applied | None! |
| Pair Bond |
None
|
| Looks | |
|---|---|
| Base | Black (6.03%) |
| Base Genetics | Monochrome Dark I |
| Eyes | Olive |
| Skin | Black |
| Nose | Umbral |
| Claws | Apollo |
| Mutation | None |
| Secondary Mutation | Piebald: Biewer  |
| Carrier Status | Unknown |
| Variant | Relaxed |
| Markings
|
|
|---|---|
| Slot 1 | Ducat Light Husky (8% : T6) |
| Slot 2 | Cedar Sallander (47% : T8) |
| Slot 3 | Silver Lupos (32% : T6) |
| Slot 4 | None |
| Slot 5 | Dark Brown Shadow (22% : T3) |
| Slot 6 | None |
| Slot 7 | Black Sallander (7% : T8) |
| Slot 8 | Brown Wings Heavy (28% : T2) |
| Slot 9 | White Tamaskan Unders (40% : T7) |
| Slot 10 | None |
Biography
https://www.wolvden.com/trading-center/search/general?owner=135152#results T3, NBW, deco and mutie trades! https://www.wolvden.com/wolf/9827403 STUD!
One of Many Voices
The sprawling expanse of the Crimson Crown Hounds pack territory was a verdant paradise, shrouded in the ambiance of the forest. Towering trees loomed overhead, creating an emerald canopy that filtered the sunlight into golden specks, dancing around Mania's ears. The sky-high mountain at the heart of the land cast an imposing shadow, a silent guardian over the lush depths below.
In a part of the forest thick with fog, where shadows slipped between the trees, a wolf's delicate figure lay battered and bruised upon the damp earth. Her hazel and caramel-toned pelt, marked with splotches of white, blended with the muted colors of the forest floor. Mania, a young she-wolf, was on the verge of death, her breaths shallow, the vibrant fire of life fading within her.
Ezequiel, the pack leader with a tawny hazel coat, stumbled upon her while patrolling the territory. His keen eyes caught the glimmer of her hazel eyes, embers of a dying flame flickering in the darkness. As he approached, the whispers of the forest fell into an eerie silence.
She stirred, her voice a soft plea that sent ripples of concern through Ezequiel. "I want to feel alive," she whispered, her tone barely lifting from the ground. Then, as if slipping into another realm, she continued in a hauntingly different voice, "There's no point to carry on. Just let me go."
Ezequiel felt a fierce protectiveness surge within him, harsh and urgent as winter's breath. He leaned closer, sensing the fragile thread of hope woven through her words. "You will not die today," he vowed, voice firm but gentle. With a swift motion, he pressed her against him, their bodies forming a shield against the encroaching darkness.
With great care, he lifted her into his jaws and took off into the depths of the woods, sprinting towards the pack den. The dense fog followed them, swirling like restless spirits, creating a atmosphere heavy with foreboding yet underscored by Ezequiel's determination.
Izanami, the pack's revered herbalist, was tending to her garden of healing plants when Ezequiel burst through the entrance of their den, still cradling the injured she-wolf. Her heart raced at the sight of Mania, the young wolf so raw and vulnerable yet filled with haunting defiance.
"What happened?" she gasped, already preparing her healing supplies.
"A rogue attack I presume," Ezequiel replied through gritted teeth, laying Mania gently on a bed of soft moss. "We need to save her."
As Izanami worked tirelessly, stitching wounds and applying poultices, Mania hovered at the edge of consciousness, trapped between life and death. The voices slipped in and out of her muzzle, many calling to her, some with urgency, others whispering sweet nothings, but none offering solace.
Days turned into weeks, and under the patient care of Izanami, Mania began to mend. Ezequiel often visited her, speaking to her of pack life, of strength and resilience. Slowly, the flicker of hope reignited within her. She grew enamored with the herbs, their scents and subtle magic. She watched as Izanami tended to the plants, whispering to herself their properties as she went along.
"Teach me," Mania implored Izanami on one stolen afternoon, her eyes wide with earnest passion. "I wish to help others, like you helped me."
Izanami smiled, a soft, motherly gesture that illuminated her features. "Very well, my young one. But remember, the world of the healer is fraught with its own battles."
As the seasons melted into one another, Mania trained under Izanami's watchful gaze. She blossomed into a skilled herbalist, her connection to the earth deepening with every lesson learned. However, the voices that had once been mere shadows loomed larger as whispers turned into tangible figures in her mind. They argued and wept, each seeking solace, each vying for her attention.
One clear morning, as the sun spread its golden rays across the forest, Izanami, aged and weary, succumbed to the quiet embrace of death. Mania felt her heart tear apart as if the very fabric of her being had been unraveling. In that moment of profound loss, the voices surged; they clamored for dominance, each desperate to be heard as if arguing over a grave.
"Why didn't you save her?" one voice shrieked, sharp like broken glass.
"He'll die too," another said, filled with sorrow. "Just as she saved you."
Caught in the tempest of her emotions, Mania found herself isolated from her true voice. Ezequiel tried to reach her, but she remained adrift, swept up in the tide of grief and the clamor of the dead. A cacophony of souls that now called her home.
The pack began to call her "One of Many Voices," an affectionate title laced with unease. Mania skirted the edges of the community, her laughter now broken and fractured. Ezequiel watched helplessly, the weight of leadership heavy on his shoulders. He had brought her back from the brink, but he had failed to preserve her essence.
One cold night, the moon hung low, glowing like a ghostly beacon. Ezequiel sought her out, finding her at the foot of the mountain shrouded in fog. "Mania," he called, his voice threading through the mist.
She turned, her hazel eyes reflecting the moonlight. "I don't know who I am anymore." She stuttered as a lone tear left her eye.
Without hesitation, he moved to her side, his presence a grounding force. "You are a healer, a friend, and part of this pack. The voices may come from pain and memories, but they are not you. You have the strength to let them guide you, to remember those you've lost without losing yourself."
His words washed over her, sparking a glimmer of clarity amidst the chaos. As the wind whispered through the trees, she began to acknowledge the voices, not as invaders but as echoes of the past, reminders of lessons learned, of lives lived fully, even in sorrow.
With newfound determination, Mania lifted her head to the moonlit sky, embracing every sound, every whisper as part of her journey. She reached out to the voices within, inviting them to dance alongside her truth, a connective thread spun from both life and death.
And in that moment, standing with Ezequiel by her side, she felt alive once more. The fog lifted, revealing not just the pain she had endured, but the strength she had gained. The forest hummed its ancient lullaby, life, woven into every note, alive and vibrant in her heart.
One of Many Voices
In a part of the forest thick with fog, where shadows slipped between the trees, a wolf's delicate figure lay battered and bruised upon the damp earth. Her hazel and caramel-toned pelt, marked with splotches of white, blended with the muted colors of the forest floor. Mania, a young she-wolf, was on the verge of death, her breaths shallow, the vibrant fire of life fading within her.
Ezequiel, the pack leader with a tawny hazel coat, stumbled upon her while patrolling the territory. His keen eyes caught the glimmer of her hazel eyes, embers of a dying flame flickering in the darkness. As he approached, the whispers of the forest fell into an eerie silence.
She stirred, her voice a soft plea that sent ripples of concern through Ezequiel. "I want to feel alive," she whispered, her tone barely lifting from the ground. Then, as if slipping into another realm, she continued in a hauntingly different voice, "There's no point to carry on. Just let me go."
Ezequiel felt a fierce protectiveness surge within him, harsh and urgent as winter's breath. He leaned closer, sensing the fragile thread of hope woven through her words. "You will not die today," he vowed, voice firm but gentle. With a swift motion, he pressed her against him, their bodies forming a shield against the encroaching darkness.
With great care, he lifted her into his jaws and took off into the depths of the woods, sprinting towards the pack den. The dense fog followed them, swirling like restless spirits, creating a atmosphere heavy with foreboding yet underscored by Ezequiel's determination.
Izanami, the pack's revered herbalist, was tending to her garden of healing plants when Ezequiel burst through the entrance of their den, still cradling the injured she-wolf. Her heart raced at the sight of Mania, the young wolf so raw and vulnerable yet filled with haunting defiance.
"What happened?" she gasped, already preparing her healing supplies.
"A rogue attack I presume," Ezequiel replied through gritted teeth, laying Mania gently on a bed of soft moss. "We need to save her."
As Izanami worked tirelessly, stitching wounds and applying poultices, Mania hovered at the edge of consciousness, trapped between life and death. The voices slipped in and out of her muzzle, many calling to her, some with urgency, others whispering sweet nothings, but none offering solace.
Days turned into weeks, and under the patient care of Izanami, Mania began to mend. Ezequiel often visited her, speaking to her of pack life, of strength and resilience. Slowly, the flicker of hope reignited within her. She grew enamored with the herbs, their scents and subtle magic. She watched as Izanami tended to the plants, whispering to herself their properties as she went along.
"Teach me," Mania implored Izanami on one stolen afternoon, her eyes wide with earnest passion. "I wish to help others, like you helped me."
Izanami smiled, a soft, motherly gesture that illuminated her features. "Very well, my young one. But remember, the world of the healer is fraught with its own battles."
As the seasons melted into one another, Mania trained under Izanami's watchful gaze. She blossomed into a skilled herbalist, her connection to the earth deepening with every lesson learned. However, the voices that had once been mere shadows loomed larger as whispers turned into tangible figures in her mind. They argued and wept, each seeking solace, each vying for her attention.
One clear morning, as the sun spread its golden rays across the forest, Izanami, aged and weary, succumbed to the quiet embrace of death. Mania felt her heart tear apart as if the very fabric of her being had been unraveling. In that moment of profound loss, the voices surged; they clamored for dominance, each desperate to be heard as if arguing over a grave.
"Why didn't you save her?" one voice shrieked, sharp like broken glass.
"He'll die too," another said, filled with sorrow. "Just as she saved you."
Caught in the tempest of her emotions, Mania found herself isolated from her true voice. Ezequiel tried to reach her, but she remained adrift, swept up in the tide of grief and the clamor of the dead. A cacophony of souls that now called her home.
The pack began to call her "One of Many Voices," an affectionate title laced with unease. Mania skirted the edges of the community, her laughter now broken and fractured. Ezequiel watched helplessly, the weight of leadership heavy on his shoulders. He had brought her back from the brink, but he had failed to preserve her essence.
One cold night, the moon hung low, glowing like a ghostly beacon. Ezequiel sought her out, finding her at the foot of the mountain shrouded in fog. "Mania," he called, his voice threading through the mist.
She turned, her hazel eyes reflecting the moonlight. "I don't know who I am anymore." She stuttered as a lone tear left her eye.
Without hesitation, he moved to her side, his presence a grounding force. "You are a healer, a friend, and part of this pack. The voices may come from pain and memories, but they are not you. You have the strength to let them guide you, to remember those you've lost without losing yourself."
His words washed over her, sparking a glimmer of clarity amidst the chaos. As the wind whispered through the trees, she began to acknowledge the voices, not as invaders but as echoes of the past, reminders of lessons learned, of lives lived fully, even in sorrow.
With newfound determination, Mania lifted her head to the moonlit sky, embracing every sound, every whisper as part of her journey. She reached out to the voices within, inviting them to dance alongside her truth, a connective thread spun from both life and death.
And in that moment, standing with Ezequiel by her side, she felt alive once more. The fog lifted, revealing not just the pain she had endured, but the strength she had gained. The forest hummed its ancient lullaby, life, woven into every note, alive and vibrant in her heart.
| Birth Stats | ||
|---|---|---|
| Strength | Speed | Agility |
| 64 | 47 | 49 |
| Wisdom | Smarts | Total |
| 48 | 66 | 274 |
| Birth Information | |
|---|---|
| Moon |  Full Moon |
| Season |  Autumn |
| Biome | Taiga |
| Decorations and Background |
|---|
Background
Flickering Forest4 uses left
Decorations
Above
[Eye Enhancer] Glistening Gaze9 uses left
Blackening Waxcap Mushroom4 uses left
Caesar's Mushroom Crown4 uses left
Windy4 uses left
Pussywillow3 uses left
Fairy Ring Mushrooms2 uses left
Dappled Sunlight9 uses left
Below
None equipped!
Currently
Herbalist
Herbalist | Proficiency | |
|---|---|
| Hunting: Stalking | |
| Hunting: Chasing | |
| Hunting: Finishing | |
| Scouting | |
| Herbalism | |
| Pupsitting | |
| Statistic | Count |
|---|---|
| Total Number of Scouts | 0 |
| Total Number of Hunts | 0 |
| Successful Hunts | 0 |
| Total Number of Lessons Taught | 1 |
In current pack for 30 rollovers
Wolf created on 2024-07-04 00:52:29