NAME
Arkell

AGE seven years old
GENDER female
EYE COLOR A light, captivating olive green hue flecked with amber
APPEARANCE Orbs of amber-flecked olive rest just below a sharply sloping forehead bedecked by two triangular, ochre-edged ears. The black leather-gauged lips are constantly drawn back in a snarl, flashing ivory white daggers. Tall for her gender, Arkell is ignorant of her breed, her ancestors ranging from dire wolf to arctic and back to gray. Her shoulders are thick with padded muscle and her shale flanks are lithe and supple but iron hard with hidden strength. No daintiness is there within the broad chest or the large paws and only the long, thin legs (from a maned wolf somewhere along her family tree) give her any feminine charm. She is strange in the fact that, though large and brute-like, curvaceous hips lend a slight beauty to her form. The mane that rings her face falls in silky rivulets; the rest of her coat is more wiry and hugs her strong frame. She is a paradox, when one looks at her she is gaunt and muscular, strong and lithe, masculine and feminine, curvilinear and overpowering. Her banner is long and covered by the silky rivulets that frame her muzzle and curls slightly upwards at the tip. Arkell's face is a pale-yellow mask, stretching from her dark nose to enclose her eyes in butter colored fur. A tawny line of ochre breaks this by converging into a solid line along her blunt snout. A light cream is her base coat color and encircles her slender legs and belly. A large mantle of black, grey and tan hued fur melts into the cream base. The mantle covers her back, shoulders and head and forms two solid black lines like a collar around her throat and chest. Arkell is unusually large for a female, weighing in at 125 pounds and standing at a height of 45 inches from head to toe. She is strong and has enough muscle to ensure her power attacks are damaging, as well as being quick and agile. However, her agility is marred by her large size and thus she often finds it difficult to maneuver herself adequately.

Personality: Arkell carries no hint of the feministic cockiness born of a stunning coat or a sultry smile. Instead she prefers to keep to the shadows, not hiding, just keeping to herself and to her own business. She does not take fools lightly yet she has perfect self-control, preferring to leave then square up against another wolf, though she is a mastered fighter. Arkell is often described by those she meets as cold and calculating. Her knowledgeable gaze, when directed at somebody, is liable to make them feel very uncomfortable as the czaress scrutinizes them with indifference. She has the distinct air of a leader and when she gives orders most rush to carry them out. Arkell is fearless and reckless, though she always seems to know exactly what she is doing and doesn't often get disconcerted. Her mind is sharp, and her tongue is sharper. She doesn't understand the concept of fun and love to her is an alien emotion. Arkell, however, is not evil or cruel and she would make an excellent alpha.


OOC: CASJ


Name: Arkell

Age (pup, teen, adult): three years old

Gender: czaress

Eye Color: amber-flecked green

Appearance: Orbs of amber-flecked green rest just below a sharply sloping forehead bedecked with two triangular, ochre-edged soldiers. The black leather-gauged lips are constantly drawn back in a snarl, flashing ivory white daggers. Tall for her gender, Arkell is ignorant of her breed, her ancestors ranging from dire wolf to arctic and back to gray. Her shoulders are thick with padded muscle and her shale flanks are lithe and supple but iron hard with hidden strength. No daintiness is there within the broad chest or the large paws and only the long, thin legs (from a maned wolf somewhere along her family tree) give her any feminine charm. She is strange in the fact that, though large and brute-like, curvaceous hips lend a slight beauty to her form. The mane that rings her face falls in silky rivulets; the rest of her coat is wiry and hugs her strong frame. She is a paradox, when one looks at her she is gaunt and muscular, strong and lithe, masculine and feminine, curvilinear and overpowering. Her banner is long and covered by the silky rivulets that frame her muzzle and curls slightly upwards at the tip. Arkell's face is a pale-yellow mask, stretching from her dark nose to enclose her eyes in butter colored fur. A tawny line of ochre breaks this by converging into a solid line along her blunt snout. A light cream is her base coat color and encircles her slender legs and belly. A large mantle of black, grey and tan hued fur melts into the cream base. The mantle covers her back, shoulders and head and forms two solid black lines like a collar around her throat and chest.
Personality: Arkell carries no hint of the feministic cockiness born of a stunning coat or a sultry smile. Instead she prefers to keep to the shadows, not hiding, just keeping to herself and to her own business. She does not take fools lightly yet she has perfect self-control, preferring to leave then square up against another wolf, though she is a mastered fighter. Arkell is often described by those she meets as cold and calculating. Her knowledgeable gaze, when directed at somebody, is liable to make them feel very uncomfortable as the czaress scrutinizes them with indifference. She has the distinct air of a leader and when she gives orders most rush to carry them out. Arkell is fearless and reckless, though she always seems to know exactly what she is doing and doesn't often get disconcerted. Her mind is sharp, and her tongue is sharper. She doesn't understand the concept of fun and love to her is an alien emotion. Arkell, however, is not evil or cruel and she would make an excellent alpha.

History (optional): Arkell's father was a cruel tyrant, uncaring and callous, the result of a past as an assassin. He chose only the strongest of his several broods to follow in his pawsteps and taught them the way of the killer. Arkell had not been among them but, after much pleading and proof, her father had relented and taught her the True Way. Then something unforeseen had happened. Her father had led five of his best students, Arkell among them, to a sandy arena and pitted them against each other. They were all denmates or blood-relations and the huge czar bid them fight to the death. Arkell, luckily, was the last to fight and only one opponent was left. Quite unluckily, it happened to be Arkell's older brother. The two faced off and it was a bloody battle that ensued. Eventually though, Arkell managed to pin her brother beneath her paws and her father looked on with pride as her jaws opened to deliver the killing bite to a twitching throat pulsing with life blood. She gazed at her brother's sky blue orbs, closed now in expectation of the killing blow. She couldn't do it. Her father couldn't watch her not do it. He leapt at her, intent to weed out the weakling that had been allowed to live under his nose. Arkell fled. She lived for seasons alone and wandering, ever on the alert should she bump into her sire. Eventually, her stumbling paw-steps landed her at Moladion and she awaited, somewhat impatiently, to be allowed to gain entry into the dappled depths, the only hiding place where she could forever be free of her blood-soaked past.

It's CASJ:)