Lune
| Last Details | |
|---|---|
| Death Age | 8 years 0 months (Elder) |
| Sex | Female |
| Personality | Unknown |
| Breeding Records | |
|---|---|
| Death Age in Rollovers | 192 |
| Pups Bred | 12 pups bred |
| Looks | |
|---|---|
| Base | Snow (2.96%) |
| Base Genetics | Monochrome Light I |
| Eyes | White |
| Skin | Dark Brown |
| Nose | Marbled |
| Claws | Root |
| Mutation | None |
| Secondary Mutation | None |
| Carrier Status | Unknown |
| Variant | Default |
| Markings | |
|---|---|
| Slot 1 | Red Dorsal (78%) |
| Slot 2 | Yellow Back Heavy Patch (81%) |
| Slot 3 | Yellow Neck Band (73%) |
| Slot 4 | Red Highlights (91%) |
| Slot 5 | Brown Mantle (45%) |
| Slot 6 | Brown Agouti (41%) |
| Slot 7 | Brown Forehead (100%) |
| Slot 8 | Brown Head Stripe (72%) |
| Slot 9 | Red Underfur (24%) |
| Slot 10 | Brown Unders (37%) |
| Birth Stats | ||
|---|---|---|
| Strength | Speed | Agility |
| Unknown | Unknown | Unknown |
| Wisdom | Smarts | Total |
| Unknown | Unknown | Unknown |
| Birth Information | |
|---|---|
| Moon | Unknown |
| Season | Unknown |
| Biome | Unknown |
Biography
The Wolf of Many Lifetimes, Lune
-
You tread along the bluffs of a cliff. They overlook a craggy, fast flowing river and the call of a raven echoes through the cavernous length of it. The golden field of grass you'd been walking through begins to thin out for this scar in the land.
A scent carries to you and you lift your head to scour around yourself. In the distance you can just make out the leader of this pack sitting and admiring the distance from a raised portion of the canyon. The look in the wolf's eyes is distant, one of an individual lost in thought. A raven sweeps up from the depths below and lands beside her. You recognize that this must have been the one you'd heard.
You have not had much time to spend with their leader yet but the pack speaks of her with fondness and certainty. With each mention of Lune, a wolf smiles or nods with respect. Curious about this wolf that commands the total loyalty of her pack, you pad closer to her vantage point.
It is not until you are fairly close that Lune appears to take notice of your approach. Her head turns towards you and she greets you almost as if she'd expected you to come here. Her tail swishes lazily back and forth as she speaks to you.
"Welcome, friend."
Some say she came from the sea, that she padded straight out of the waves.
Some say she came from the wind, that in the middle of a great storm she simply swirled into being.
Others say it was the moon, that on the clearest night of the year she sprung straight from the beams of moonlight.