ID #10929490
This wolf is immune to illness for 1 rollover.
| Currents | |
|---|---|
| Age | 3 years 3½ months (Adult) |
| Sex | Male |
| Energy |
|
| Hunger |
|
| HP |
|
| Personality | Imaginative |
| Breeding Information | |
|---|---|
| Age in Rollovers | 79 |
| Pups Bred | 5 pups bred |
| Last Bred | 2024-10-19 05:19:42 |
| Fertility | N/A |
| Heat Cycle | N/A |
| Items Applied | None! |
| Pair Bond | |
| Looks | |
|---|---|
| Base | White (3.15%) |
| Base Genetics | Monochrome Light I |
| Eyes | Yellow |
| Skin | Black |
| Nose | Black |
| Claws | Black |
| Mutation | None |
| Secondary Mutation | None |
| Carrier Status | View Report |
| Variant | Default |
| Markings
|
|
|---|---|
| Slot 1 | Red Mantle (100% : T0) |
| Slot 2 | Gold Dilution (10% : T0) |
| Slot 3 | Black Dilution (100% : T0) |
| Slot 4 | None |
| Slot 5 | None |
| Slot 6 | None |
| Slot 7 | None |
| Slot 8 | None |
| Slot 9 | None |
| Slot 10 | None |
Biography
Mercy, the founder of Phoenix Tribe, is a diplomatic wolf with thick white fur, black-and-red tickings, and yellow eyes. He currently serves as the Head of the Tribe. He is the mate of Cedar and father of Fern, Willow, Aloe, Sigil, and Crumb.
Biography
Mercy, originally referred to as "M3-2" by humans, was born on an illegal wolf fur farm with three sisters. They lived in a kennel across from their mother, who they were separated from early in their youth. Mercy was constantly bored as a pup, less content with the kibble and treats his sisters seemed to grow plump on. He got along well with them, but would often playfight for food and took on resource guarding, despite eating less kibble than them. He took to luring birds near the cage with clumps of his own shed fur and catching them through the bars.
His sister M3-1 seemed lonely and liked barking at their mother beyond the bars. 3-3 was a compassionate pup who made up games with Mercy, while 3-4 loved socializing while she ate lots and lots of food! Near adolescence and under the stars, the group gave each other new names. 3-1 was named Loudmouth for her barking; 3-3 was Wag because of her always-wagging tail; 3-4 insisted she be named Kibble. They wanted to name 3-2 Bird for his constant bird hunting antics. He didn't like it though! He wanted to be called Phoenix, a foreign word he heard the humans muttering from time to time. The farm, as he didn't know, was codenamed Phoenix Farm for its location near Phoenix, Arizona.
The workers saw M-2 as intelligent and territorial because of his food guarding. His pelt was less glossy than the sisters' as well, so he was instead sold to a private wolf hunting group that would hunt him for sport. A month before his first birthday, Mercy was taken from his siblings and shipped to a privately owned island. But the plane crashed on the way there! By nothing short of a miracle, he made it out alive with severe burns. Utterly alone, separated from his slaughtered family, and in near critical condition, M-2 limped from the flames and ashes of the crash. He remembers little from the time after that; all he knows is someone nursed him back to health, and the only words he remembered from their voice was a chant for Mercy.
His oldest memory after the crash was meeting Cedar, a yearling with a striking chocolate pelt who liked his awkward personality and was curious about his odd accent, where he first introduced himself Mercy. They travelled as a pair under many suns, where Mercy learned how to survive in the wild with her. His personality never returned to the puplike wonder of his youth; however, he's still observant and always exploring, trying to learn as much as he can about surviving in this new world. Once his future best friend Rusty joined, they began to call themselves the Phoenix Tribe, where Mercy took on something like a scouting role while also managing the hoard and managing relations with other wolf packs.
With the tribe much bigger than he ever expected, he refers to himself as their leader in-name only while preferring to see himself as a lead scout. He's anxious about what his pack has become and often avoids them when the problem weighs on him, preferring to wander the wilds after instructing what they will spend their sun doing for the pack.
Cedar passed down the tradition from her birth pack labelling the different jobs within the pack—hunters, pupsitters, leads, etc. Mercy was the Head of the tribe, as he was the one planning the pack operations and intermingling with other packs. Hunters are the Body, supporting the Tribe directly with food and patrolling. Pupsitters and queens are the Heart, as they nurture and keep the pack alive while also managing the daily tasks within the Camp. Finally, scouts are the Limbs, as they extend territory and travel the land.
He is not known well by many Hunters and tends to only interact with Scouts due to his busy nature. On the few days he does socialize, the pack wolves generally see him as rugged and wise beyond his years, if not downright intimidating. He wears the burn scars from the crash on his pelt, tattering the fur, and scars from his many battles while exploring the land.
Mercy has two litters with Cedar. The first was two girls, Chaser wolves named Fern and Willow. He watched over the two but didn't foster a relationship with them, used to a distant parental relationship from his childhood and having no concept of what a father is. He felt an ancestral draw to them and wanted to see them safe, but couldn't seem to close the distance between them.
When Fern and Willow left to join another pack, Mercy felt less hollowed than Cedar but still missed their presence. He took longer trips away from the tribe, and his packmates didn't see him around for a few months. Cedar felt alone and was upset at him for emotionally withdrawing. They reconciled and grew closer as mates, spending more alone time exploring the woods together.
Their second litter came the next Sun Sublunary after Fern and Willows departure. Cedar named Aloe and Crumb, while Cedar named Sigil. He promised to try and be more of a father to them, taking lessons from John D'arc and trying to spend more time at camp. Cedar herself resigned from her position as hunter to pupsit her children as they grew up.
Mercy felt a particular connection to Sigil, the bold pup who loved exploring and playing with his father. While Crumb and Aloe enjoyed relaxing with Cedar, his son was always nipping at Mercy's tail and trying to spend time with him. Sigil reminded Mercy of himself as a pup, back in the cages of the farm. He tried giving Sigil the guidance and playtime he never had, bringing home all sorts of feathers for his son and teaching him how to stalk and hunt way before he was due to take pup lessons.
Crumb seemed to roll his eyes at his father's discipline lessons. He was less interested in hunting and more in whatever whims he had for the day, which Mercy didn't know how to correct. Cedar spent more time parenting Crumb because Mercy was at a loss of what to do with him. They did, however, have time where they shared the same bones. While cuddling as a family, Mercy had to admit Crumbs was the fluffiest and least pokey to sleep beside, even compared to his mate who loved to kick him in the ribs in her sleep.
Mercy worried when Aloe fell sick, a new emotion he hadn't felt so deeply before. He spent most of his free time in camp checking in on her. While scouting their territory, he would ask other packs if their herbalist knew of the symptoms and what could be causing this so consistently. He gave a lot of resources to Kala and the Raccoon to see if it was the water causing her stomach pains. He comforted Cedar the best he could, more accepting that their pup might not make it to adulthood.
"I don't know what I'm doing."
Rusty fell silent at Mercy's words, pausing his chew on an elk bone. He didn't want to show his surprise, but he couldn't help but pause at the subject's heaviness. Only an oak leaf's crinkle and the sound of Rusty's own breathing proved time hadn't frozen.
The air felt colder, now. Waking up pelt-to-pelt with Mercy and going for their morning stroll had blindly lifted his mood and dulled his senses. The morning air cooled against Rusty's breaths, exhaled crystalizing against the muted golds of the autumn forest and inhales washing ice over his lungs.
The pause stretched. It thickened.
"Regarding...?" Rusty asked at last. His voice was graveled with age in his own ears. When had he grown old? Mercy, whose scruffy fur, light frame, and pitched tone bore the signs of his youth, seemed more like a pup to him. But no, his leader was of age, no matter how youthful.
Mercy sat on the edge of Moss Rock, eyes scanning over the trunks as if he had heard something. They both knew he hadn't. The curl of his tail around his paws seemed stiff, calculated.
"Any of it--Leading. Being a father." Rusty looked up at Mercy, letting his eyes fall against his back. Mercy's red ticked coat was striking, if not intimidating, akin to blood and blending with the warm hues of the deciduous trees. A light scent of squirrel wafted from him, a remaining sign of their breakfast.
"I came here because I had no choice. I never expected to feed this many mouths. Part of me naively thought it would be me, you, and Cedar forever."
"Nothing lasts forever," Rusty replied, speaking the truth. He had learned that lesson time and time again through losses, through illness, through the joy of finding family and the agony of losing it. The dejected look in Mercy's eyes, however, made him second guess sharing it.
Silence fell once more, thick as fog. Rusty's chew had become unappetizing, but the awkward air compelled him to gnaw it. It's not like Rusty hadn't noticed. Living day to day with no particular guidance from their ever-wandering leader left the appropriate impression. It was the confidence Mercy had in his relationship with Rusty that gave him pause. The young scrap, Rusty felt, was another passing wolf in the motions. He figured wearing his use would lead to parting ways, as it had many times before. Showing weakness was vulnerable, dangerous even. The weight of his trust left Rusty feeling hollow.
Mercy wasn't going to say more. The twitch of his ears, as if starting to curl back, made it obvious he was holding on to apperances. Sigh.
"Listen," Rusty started. He shifted his weight and sat up, underbelly wet and fur clumping from morning dew. Leaf scraps and dirt clumps stuck to his rust-orange pelt. "You are inexperienced. You cannot hunt or rear pups well, and you're distant from your tribe. You're far from the strongest wolf I've ever met--look at me, Mercy." Mercy's Sun-kissed gaze shifted, stalling, then met his own. His soul was in his eyes.
"That speaks nothing to your character. We all chose to be here, didn't we? Nothing stops me from leaving, nor anyone else. There's a reason we sleep in the same dens." Rusty's expression softened. "I have faith in who you are. Experience can be gained, and leadership can be earned." Rusty could feel himself growing vulnerable. His barriers were weakened by the honesty in his leader's soul. 'We're trusting you with our lives. You earn that faith over the turn of the moon and the change of the seasons. You haven't let us down yet."
Mercy said nothing, but his expression spoke for him. A weight was lifted.
With a glace away, Rusty pawed the bone towards Mercy. "I'm done with this. I'm sure you can use it for something, right?"
The moment passed, like everything does. But the bond Rusty felt with Mercy felt thicker as they stood and made their way back to camp. The safety Rusty felt side by side with the young wolf was palpable, new, and very welcome. Mercy promised greatness, both as a leader and a friend. Rusty's heart, jaded with age, felt young for a moment. He became naive enough to hope he was by Mercy's side for as many moons as he walked these woods.
Expenses Reference Sheet
2 gc per wolf to ensure dynasty slots. currently that's 60 GC necessary
1 gc net saved for stud slots.
most if not all GC needs to be saved for guarana purposes when leaderboard stud project begins.
Mercy's Personality Lobotomize Sheet
Creation - 10/29 - Keen (1% proficiency to apprentences while training)
10/29 - imaginative (1% trophy boost)
Biography
Mercy, originally referred to as "M3-2" by humans, was born on an illegal wolf fur farm with three sisters. They lived in a kennel across from their mother, who they were separated from early in their youth. Mercy was constantly bored as a pup, less content with the kibble and treats his sisters seemed to grow plump on. He got along well with them, but would often playfight for food and took on resource guarding, despite eating less kibble than them. He took to luring birds near the cage with clumps of his own shed fur and catching them through the bars.
His sister M3-1 seemed lonely and liked barking at their mother beyond the bars. 3-3 was a compassionate pup who made up games with Mercy, while 3-4 loved socializing while she ate lots and lots of food! Near adolescence and under the stars, the group gave each other new names. 3-1 was named Loudmouth for her barking; 3-3 was Wag because of her always-wagging tail; 3-4 insisted she be named Kibble. They wanted to name 3-2 Bird for his constant bird hunting antics. He didn't like it though! He wanted to be called Phoenix, a foreign word he heard the humans muttering from time to time. The farm, as he didn't know, was codenamed Phoenix Farm for its location near Phoenix, Arizona.
The workers saw M-2 as intelligent and territorial because of his food guarding. His pelt was less glossy than the sisters' as well, so he was instead sold to a private wolf hunting group that would hunt him for sport. A month before his first birthday, Mercy was taken from his siblings and shipped to a privately owned island. But the plane crashed on the way there! By nothing short of a miracle, he made it out alive with severe burns. Utterly alone, separated from his slaughtered family, and in near critical condition, M-2 limped from the flames and ashes of the crash. He remembers little from the time after that; all he knows is someone nursed him back to health, and the only words he remembered from their voice was a chant for Mercy.
His oldest memory after the crash was meeting Cedar, a yearling with a striking chocolate pelt who liked his awkward personality and was curious about his odd accent, where he first introduced himself Mercy. They travelled as a pair under many suns, where Mercy learned how to survive in the wild with her. His personality never returned to the puplike wonder of his youth; however, he's still observant and always exploring, trying to learn as much as he can about surviving in this new world. Once his future best friend Rusty joined, they began to call themselves the Phoenix Tribe, where Mercy took on something like a scouting role while also managing the hoard and managing relations with other wolf packs.
With the tribe much bigger than he ever expected, he refers to himself as their leader in-name only while preferring to see himself as a lead scout. He's anxious about what his pack has become and often avoids them when the problem weighs on him, preferring to wander the wilds after instructing what they will spend their sun doing for the pack.
Cedar passed down the tradition from her birth pack labelling the different jobs within the pack—hunters, pupsitters, leads, etc. Mercy was the Head of the tribe, as he was the one planning the pack operations and intermingling with other packs. Hunters are the Body, supporting the Tribe directly with food and patrolling. Pupsitters and queens are the Heart, as they nurture and keep the pack alive while also managing the daily tasks within the Camp. Finally, scouts are the Limbs, as they extend territory and travel the land.
He is not known well by many Hunters and tends to only interact with Scouts due to his busy nature. On the few days he does socialize, the pack wolves generally see him as rugged and wise beyond his years, if not downright intimidating. He wears the burn scars from the crash on his pelt, tattering the fur, and scars from his many battles while exploring the land.
Mercy has two litters with Cedar. The first was two girls, Chaser wolves named Fern and Willow. He watched over the two but didn't foster a relationship with them, used to a distant parental relationship from his childhood and having no concept of what a father is. He felt an ancestral draw to them and wanted to see them safe, but couldn't seem to close the distance between them.
When Fern and Willow left to join another pack, Mercy felt less hollowed than Cedar but still missed their presence. He took longer trips away from the tribe, and his packmates didn't see him around for a few months. Cedar felt alone and was upset at him for emotionally withdrawing. They reconciled and grew closer as mates, spending more alone time exploring the woods together.
Their second litter came the next Sun Sublunary after Fern and Willows departure. Cedar named Aloe and Crumb, while Cedar named Sigil. He promised to try and be more of a father to them, taking lessons from John D'arc and trying to spend more time at camp. Cedar herself resigned from her position as hunter to pupsit her children as they grew up.
Mercy felt a particular connection to Sigil, the bold pup who loved exploring and playing with his father. While Crumb and Aloe enjoyed relaxing with Cedar, his son was always nipping at Mercy's tail and trying to spend time with him. Sigil reminded Mercy of himself as a pup, back in the cages of the farm. He tried giving Sigil the guidance and playtime he never had, bringing home all sorts of feathers for his son and teaching him how to stalk and hunt way before he was due to take pup lessons.
Crumb seemed to roll his eyes at his father's discipline lessons. He was less interested in hunting and more in whatever whims he had for the day, which Mercy didn't know how to correct. Cedar spent more time parenting Crumb because Mercy was at a loss of what to do with him. They did, however, have time where they shared the same bones. While cuddling as a family, Mercy had to admit Crumbs was the fluffiest and least pokey to sleep beside, even compared to his mate who loved to kick him in the ribs in her sleep.
Mercy worried when Aloe fell sick, a new emotion he hadn't felt so deeply before. He spent most of his free time in camp checking in on her. While scouting their territory, he would ask other packs if their herbalist knew of the symptoms and what could be causing this so consistently. He gave a lot of resources to Kala and the Raccoon to see if it was the water causing her stomach pains. He comforted Cedar the best he could, more accepting that their pup might not make it to adulthood.
Short Story 1 - Rusty's Advice
Rusty fell silent at Mercy's words, pausing his chew on an elk bone. He didn't want to show his surprise, but he couldn't help but pause at the subject's heaviness. Only an oak leaf's crinkle and the sound of Rusty's own breathing proved time hadn't frozen.
The air felt colder, now. Waking up pelt-to-pelt with Mercy and going for their morning stroll had blindly lifted his mood and dulled his senses. The morning air cooled against Rusty's breaths, exhaled crystalizing against the muted golds of the autumn forest and inhales washing ice over his lungs.
The pause stretched. It thickened.
"Regarding...?" Rusty asked at last. His voice was graveled with age in his own ears. When had he grown old? Mercy, whose scruffy fur, light frame, and pitched tone bore the signs of his youth, seemed more like a pup to him. But no, his leader was of age, no matter how youthful.
Mercy sat on the edge of Moss Rock, eyes scanning over the trunks as if he had heard something. They both knew he hadn't. The curl of his tail around his paws seemed stiff, calculated.
"Any of it--Leading. Being a father." Rusty looked up at Mercy, letting his eyes fall against his back. Mercy's red ticked coat was striking, if not intimidating, akin to blood and blending with the warm hues of the deciduous trees. A light scent of squirrel wafted from him, a remaining sign of their breakfast.
"I came here because I had no choice. I never expected to feed this many mouths. Part of me naively thought it would be me, you, and Cedar forever."
"Nothing lasts forever," Rusty replied, speaking the truth. He had learned that lesson time and time again through losses, through illness, through the joy of finding family and the agony of losing it. The dejected look in Mercy's eyes, however, made him second guess sharing it.
Silence fell once more, thick as fog. Rusty's chew had become unappetizing, but the awkward air compelled him to gnaw it. It's not like Rusty hadn't noticed. Living day to day with no particular guidance from their ever-wandering leader left the appropriate impression. It was the confidence Mercy had in his relationship with Rusty that gave him pause. The young scrap, Rusty felt, was another passing wolf in the motions. He figured wearing his use would lead to parting ways, as it had many times before. Showing weakness was vulnerable, dangerous even. The weight of his trust left Rusty feeling hollow.
Mercy wasn't going to say more. The twitch of his ears, as if starting to curl back, made it obvious he was holding on to apperances. Sigh.
"Listen," Rusty started. He shifted his weight and sat up, underbelly wet and fur clumping from morning dew. Leaf scraps and dirt clumps stuck to his rust-orange pelt. "You are inexperienced. You cannot hunt or rear pups well, and you're distant from your tribe. You're far from the strongest wolf I've ever met--look at me, Mercy." Mercy's Sun-kissed gaze shifted, stalling, then met his own. His soul was in his eyes.
"That speaks nothing to your character. We all chose to be here, didn't we? Nothing stops me from leaving, nor anyone else. There's a reason we sleep in the same dens." Rusty's expression softened. "I have faith in who you are. Experience can be gained, and leadership can be earned." Rusty could feel himself growing vulnerable. His barriers were weakened by the honesty in his leader's soul. 'We're trusting you with our lives. You earn that faith over the turn of the moon and the change of the seasons. You haven't let us down yet."
Mercy said nothing, but his expression spoke for him. A weight was lifted.
With a glace away, Rusty pawed the bone towards Mercy. "I'm done with this. I'm sure you can use it for something, right?"
The moment passed, like everything does. But the bond Rusty felt with Mercy felt thicker as they stood and made their way back to camp. The safety Rusty felt side by side with the young wolf was palpable, new, and very welcome. Mercy promised greatness, both as a leader and a friend. Rusty's heart, jaded with age, felt young for a moment. He became naive enough to hope he was by Mercy's side for as many moons as he walked these woods.
Expenses Reference Sheet
2 gc per wolf to ensure dynasty slots. currently that's 60 GC necessary
1 gc net saved for stud slots.
most if not all GC needs to be saved for guarana purposes when leaderboard stud project begins.
Mercy's Personality Lobotomize Sheet
Creation - 10/29 - Keen (1% proficiency to apprentences while training)
10/29 - imaginative (1% trophy boost)
| Birth Stats | ||
|---|---|---|
| Strength | Speed | Agility |
| Unknown | Unknown | Unknown |
| Wisdom | Smarts | Total |
| Unknown | Unknown | Unknown |
| Birth Information | |
|---|---|
| Moon | Unknown |
| Season | Unknown |
| Biome | Unknown |
| Decorations and Background |
|---|
Background
Massive Bonfire4 uses left
Decorations
Above
None equipped!
Below
None equipped!
Currently
Lead Wolf
| 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 | 5 |
| Total Battles | 1241 |
| Battles Won | 1048 (84.45%) |
In current pack for 55 rollovers
Wolf created on 2024-09-15 14:59:14