{Appearance}

{Name} Kayne Bloodlust
{Alias} Wolfie, Nightbane, Fluffy, and there's sure to be more.
{Race} Hybrid/ Ancient Winterwolf (Explaination below)
{Sex} Male
{Age}-850
{Height} 6ft
{Weight} 240
{Build} Muscled
{Eyes} Icey Blue, with wolf like slits.
{Hair} Icey white, seemingly have blue tints.
{Skin}-Dark Grey


         {Hybrid Appearance}

Dark grey skin, and icey blue slitted eyes would gaze out through the white locks of his hair. Though it'd seem to be kept well enough, it showed he didn't give it much care. Those eyes themselves would show age, and a calming, perhaps predator look within their gaze. If one's eyes would gaze down over his features, they'd notice that his features would seem rough, scars upon the grey flesh, giving it almost a leathery appearance. If one were to judge by his facial features, they'd guess he was a seasoned warrior, for even his goatee was white, or perhaps described as an icey white. A peircing would run through his eyebrow that would twist and slip through the flesh several times, while one would be in the top of his ear as well.

A thick neck would lead down to the broad shoulders, best described as having a barrell of a chest, the muscle beneath nicely toned, though having a slim layer of fat over it, just letting those washboard abs show through. His torso would seem to have several deep scars, seeming to have been caught by his fair share of lucky blows, stray arrows, for several holes would seem to be through his chest, the scar being shown on his back. If one were to take the time to gaze over the bare back, they'd see a rough tattoo on his back, as if someone cut the flesh and grinded ink into it, forming the rough shape of long sword down his spine. Upon his ribs would be scripts in rune's most known by the northern barbaric tribes. "Bare your scars upon your chest, and not on your back." On his shoulder would be a more intricate design of an one eye'd raven. His other bicep would seem to have the same rough scar like tattoo of a wolf's head, that of a trident as well.

Those hands would seem to be calloused, battle worn the fingers seeming slightly closed together as if he spent more time with a weapon in hand than without, making them almost naturally keep a loosen clasp of an invisible hilt.

His waist would be tapered, though they'd lead down to slightly built thighs, the muscles pushing through, giving evidence to they were used to being under regular activity, but not overly like those who trump in full plated armor.

If one were to stand close to him, it'd almost seem with each time he'd exhale, flickers of cold air would steam from his lips, making the temperature a few degrees colder around him, though not overly chilling. While those white teeth would almost seem to be like those of canines, mostly white though holding a yellowish tinge, due to his habbit of eating raw meat.

      {Personality in this form}

His posture though wouldn't hold the stature of a seasoned knight, for his shoulders would seem slightly hunched, though his twitching eyes would show that he perhaps was more use to the throes of the constant attention required when on the battlefield, where one couldn't accept many blows when not wearing the thick tin can. Those lips would almost always seemed to turn into a wolfish, and perhaps roguish smirk. They way his eyes would look over one would be like that of gazing over what one really was, meat and flesh.

Though his attitude may seem cold, and so does the air around him, if one can get past the chilling attitude, they'd notice that he was decent enough, just having a gruff exterior, and a questionable attitude, for his personality would perhaps be described as untamed.

             {Normal Form}

If anyone were to see this beast, they'd almost think it was a worg for it'd walk on all fours, it's fur seeming mostly white, though tinges of grey would be seen beneath it. This twisted perversion of nature, would seem much larger than it's today's race, most commonly known as a Winterwolf. With each pad, the long strands of hair would shift, while he'd move with the easy gait of a practiced predator, some scars still evident through his coat, for some parts no hair would grow, and upon the snout would appear as if he caught the unfortunate end of some claws, or general sharp objects. Those eyes would be piercing blue, as if rushing water beneath a layer of ice, and the constant chill of it's heavy breath would cause steam to seem to leave it's lips from the sharp change in temperature. His broad hunches would raise off his back, while the hair would seem to form almost a mane over his chest and that of his back.

Much like his regular form, did the piercings stay in this form, a hoop reciding through the large ear, and the seeming wrapping loops going through the flesh of the eyebrow several times.

            {Personality}

He'd naturally in either form would hold a distaste for the winterwolves of today's era, finding them inbred and weak, pitiful to what they once were. It's likely if you're staring into the eyes of this form, and the frost would be slipping out of a snarling maw, it'd be best to back off before it'd gladly take a chunk out of your lovely ass...It's a Winterwolf, what do you expect?
           {Background}

A piercing howl would echo out over the wintering top peaks of the spine of the world, the mountain having seen the rise and fall of many races, and kings. Those who were native to the land would hear the call and would begin to usher their children inside, they knew that when the animal's calls began to ring, that it was time to give nature it's sway. Tilting it's head, before giving it's large mane a slight shake and pushing itself up onto it's paws, it's own deafening cry of a howl would tear through the night, drowning out the other claim of dominance for the area.

The soft crunches of paws would be heard on the crisp snow as the snarling visage would be seen through the sheet of dancing snowflakes, colder wisps of air leaving it's maw to wrap up around it's features. The shadows of the night would seem to keep it's form from fully being seen, before it'd simply seem to get lost in the dizzy display of the whipping white flakes, just to let the feel of the fangs grasping, and twisting on the other wolf's neck would be heard, throwing it to the stone. As the battle of the two predators would take toll, the other locals would give wide birth, noting the perversion of nature, and not wishing to have anything to do with the winterwolf. As teeth and nails would flash between the two, the challenging wolf and the larger beast. As the familiar intake of breath would be heard, that icey blast would tear from it's lungs, freezing the animal to the ground.

The sound of whistling arrows would be heard as the sound of crashing feet would thunder over the field before the screeching ring, and thunderous smashes of swords and hammers colliding against eachother, hero's of the old, and those who were the expendable smashed into eachother. A familiar howl would be heard, the excitement of it tingling the blood of it's collegues, knowing the beast had joined the hunt, the other's perhaps letting their blood run like ice, as it'd freeze within their bodies, and their lungs would begin to stop working, though panting breaths would try to draw air into them. Not always in a clean battle, this creature would seem to lust for battle, the hunt, the challenge of being bested, feeling more at home covered in blood, and other fluids of the never clean story.

That large wolf would seem to lower it's head, as it'd drop down in submission before to whispering figures, as if bowing in submission, the white fur seeming more dull in appearance, it's eyes having grown more dull as it would come to them in the last flickering years of it's prime. Though what why it had kneel that night, no one but itself and the two flickering figures would know.