It has been too long since the beast stalked the lands of his mother and father. Too long since he had witnessed the destruction left by those flaming balls of godly fury, since his Irish eyes of gold and shamrock have graced across the crater created by the largest of the falling rocks. His monochrome frame moves across the sunken face of Moladion, body language practically screaming his self-confidence. Scheming mind processes the faces he comes across, the monotonous scan of facial features, searching for anything familiar to him. His muscles roll lazily beneath his slate grey pelt, paler legs moving blackened toes to point him in the direction of Iromar, where he last saw his mother. Startling rumors had begun to circulate, that the once great queen had succumbed to her crimes against wolven kind. She never was one to go easy, but still, the news of her death shocked the young lad to the very core of his being.
He had grown to idolize his mother, watching the way she moved was almost like seeing the wind across the wheaten plains of the north, the grace with which she carried herself was unrivaled by any other. Nevermind the darkness within her mind, or the callous way she treated him, his mother was a goddess upon the earth to the young boy. Some part of this beast she made longed for the company of its creator, but he has grown colder in her absence, no longer tethered by her to this world. He surrounded himself in darkness, was cradled by the glacier of loneliness, he needed no other. But the less savage part of his psyche demanded that he fill a basic need for company, that he find someone worthy of spending a bit of time with. Such a thing was valuable, you see, for time was precious. No one ever knows how long they are for the world, the recent death of his sire and dam have proven such to him. But, who is worth the art of conversation and the wasting of said valued time?
Who within this desolate land would be willing to even speak with a son of Jaidah, after the darkness within her first born is revealed? Would anyone even know who he was after so long of being away? He doubted anyone could remember him, especially since Jaidah kept him hidden away like some dragon guarding her treasure. He had been the last of her final litter, the only one who was close to her, and for all she knew it truly was the only chance she had to save her line. Never knowing that Covet was out there somewhere, though now, even he did not remain. Jaidah had many short comings, but her way of parenting apparently ensured that only the strongest of her offspring would survive. With Tobias his strength lies within the labyrinth of his mind, within the twists and turns of it, within the darkness. Jumanji walks a fine line between both the darkness and the light, knowing what he does, choosing his side of the line.
He is the youngest surviving son of Jaidah, born of her last litter and stashed away from Moladion for so long. His toned frame comes to a rest, legs finally not gangly, body finally growing into his paws and ears. He looks more like his father now, with the muscle of his mother's line running over his skeleton. His motion is smooth as he reclines, his tail naturally held straight behind him, flicking up every so often to express the dominant nature that lies beneath the calm exterior. Would anyone approach the monochromatic male with the Irish gold and green gaze? Would anyone dare?
