Werewolf Rastaran
Was created by an Elder werewolf 20/03/2006 at 05:17:52
Clan:
Character description
Marie was walking home from church one morning, stopping occasionally to pick another wild flower for the old woman. She was contemplating her 'conversation' with her priest, and feeling the holes in it. She had been seeing very strange things as of late, and had heard noises at her door late at night when no natural thing should be stirring. The priest had told her to pray and that the strange noises and sights would leave. He dismissed her tales as the ramblings of a mad woman and sent her away without further thought. Marie was certain that praying wouldn't take the noises away, and she was also quite certain that she wasn't mad.
They said that her mother had been mad before she died, but Marie hadn't known her and really didn't care what the other villagers said. The old lady that had taken her in had told her repeatedly that she wasn't mad, so it must be so. The old woman was always right, and was very wise. Marie had known her all her life, but couldn't quite remember her name, or remember anyone ever saying it. She dismissed this as unimportant and continued down the path to the little hut that she and the old woman lived in.
When she arrived outside the hut, the first thing that struck her was a strong sense of something being not quite right. The world seemed somewhat different, as if all the colors were fever-bright. She blinked and cautiously appoached the house, sensing something different about it.
The first thing she noticed was the smell of blood in the air. She looked around the dimly lit hut, her heart racing and breath coming fast.
Everything was in complete disarray, the table overturned, the fine china above the fireplace lying broken on the floor. She saw the battered and broken body of the old woman lying half on the bed and made a strangled cry as she rushed over to it, the flowers crushed in her sweating hand.
The old woman was very pale and her eyes were open and glazed over. Her neck had been savagely torn at, but there was very little blood. Marie's vision wavered, and she harshly brushed the tears away with the back of her hand. She cradled the old woman's head in her lap, and gently brushed her fine white hair from her face. She closed the old woman's eyes and held her for a long time.
The sun was high in the sky when she finally laid the old woman on the bed and went outside to dig a grave next to the flower garden behind the house. She buried the old woman as the sun was setting and laid the mangled wild flowers on the new grave. She couldn't bare to sleep in the hut that night, so she went inside and grabbed a blanket and made a bed on the ground by the old woman's grave. She fell asleep feeling tired and worn out.
That night strange noises woke her again. Something was inside the house. She quietly rose, dragging the blanket with her, the full moon lighting her path.
There was enough moonlight to see a fight going on between a wolf and a man. Marie gave a little cry as the wolf lunged at the man's throat and broke his neck with a sickening crack. Marie grasped and backed up, stumbling over the blanket and falling to the ground. The wolf turned to her, its muzzle shining with blood in the moonlight. Marie frantically tried to crawl backwards but the wolf lunged and grabbed her neck with its jaws. She tried to scream but made only a wet gurgling noise. Marie struggled to push the wolf away, to stop the bleeding, but it only went on eating, chewing its way to her heart. The pain was immense as the wolf ripped open her rib cage. Marie's head flopped back and her sight was filled with the moon.
Eventually she became aware that the wolf was no longer on her, and that the pain was fading. She regained control of her trembling arms and placed them cautiously on her neck. She watched with wonder as her savaged rib cage reformed, leaving the skin whole and untouched but for a mark above her heart.
She sat up and gazed with wonder on her newly healed skin. She gave a relieved laugh, cut short by a gasp as a new pain formed. She doubled over as her blood turned to liquid fire in her veins. Her bones twisted and ground against each other and dark red fur grew from her skin. She screamed and screamed until that scream became a howl of pain and loss. She stared up at the moon behind a wolf's eyes and saw images take shape. In the moon's face she saw a dark man with a raven on his shoulder. His fine clothes were ripped and shredded, and she saw infinite sadness in his eyes. He extended his hand to her and she reached up to take it with her wolf's paw. Cold ice enveloped her paw as she saw his life pass before her eyes; his wife and children being murdered by his closest friend, and his own death by his friend's hand. The whole time, a voice whispered in her mind, I have chosen you to avenge my death and lead my people to paradise. You shall be called Ras'Taran, cleasing fire. Go now, and spread my gift.
The visions faded and Rastaran stared up at the moon. She wept, but didn't know who for.
Human Description
Age: 18
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 122 lbs
Hair: Dark Red
Eyes: Green
Werewolf Description
Height: 7'3"
Weight: 360 lbs
Fur: Reddish Normal Wolf Markings
Eyes: Dark Green
Since her Marking, Rastaran has gone forth into the world, spreading the word and will of Sammael, creating a pack to drive back the vampires and resurrect Sammael so they might follow him into paradise.
They said that her mother had been mad before she died, but Marie hadn't known her and really didn't care what the other villagers said. The old lady that had taken her in had told her repeatedly that she wasn't mad, so it must be so. The old woman was always right, and was very wise. Marie had known her all her life, but couldn't quite remember her name, or remember anyone ever saying it. She dismissed this as unimportant and continued down the path to the little hut that she and the old woman lived in.
When she arrived outside the hut, the first thing that struck her was a strong sense of something being not quite right. The world seemed somewhat different, as if all the colors were fever-bright. She blinked and cautiously appoached the house, sensing something different about it.
The first thing she noticed was the smell of blood in the air. She looked around the dimly lit hut, her heart racing and breath coming fast.
Everything was in complete disarray, the table overturned, the fine china above the fireplace lying broken on the floor. She saw the battered and broken body of the old woman lying half on the bed and made a strangled cry as she rushed over to it, the flowers crushed in her sweating hand.
The old woman was very pale and her eyes were open and glazed over. Her neck had been savagely torn at, but there was very little blood. Marie's vision wavered, and she harshly brushed the tears away with the back of her hand. She cradled the old woman's head in her lap, and gently brushed her fine white hair from her face. She closed the old woman's eyes and held her for a long time.
The sun was high in the sky when she finally laid the old woman on the bed and went outside to dig a grave next to the flower garden behind the house. She buried the old woman as the sun was setting and laid the mangled wild flowers on the new grave. She couldn't bare to sleep in the hut that night, so she went inside and grabbed a blanket and made a bed on the ground by the old woman's grave. She fell asleep feeling tired and worn out.
That night strange noises woke her again. Something was inside the house. She quietly rose, dragging the blanket with her, the full moon lighting her path.
There was enough moonlight to see a fight going on between a wolf and a man. Marie gave a little cry as the wolf lunged at the man's throat and broke his neck with a sickening crack. Marie grasped and backed up, stumbling over the blanket and falling to the ground. The wolf turned to her, its muzzle shining with blood in the moonlight. Marie frantically tried to crawl backwards but the wolf lunged and grabbed her neck with its jaws. She tried to scream but made only a wet gurgling noise. Marie struggled to push the wolf away, to stop the bleeding, but it only went on eating, chewing its way to her heart. The pain was immense as the wolf ripped open her rib cage. Marie's head flopped back and her sight was filled with the moon.
Eventually she became aware that the wolf was no longer on her, and that the pain was fading. She regained control of her trembling arms and placed them cautiously on her neck. She watched with wonder as her savaged rib cage reformed, leaving the skin whole and untouched but for a mark above her heart.
She sat up and gazed with wonder on her newly healed skin. She gave a relieved laugh, cut short by a gasp as a new pain formed. She doubled over as her blood turned to liquid fire in her veins. Her bones twisted and ground against each other and dark red fur grew from her skin. She screamed and screamed until that scream became a howl of pain and loss. She stared up at the moon behind a wolf's eyes and saw images take shape. In the moon's face she saw a dark man with a raven on his shoulder. His fine clothes were ripped and shredded, and she saw infinite sadness in his eyes. He extended his hand to her and she reached up to take it with her wolf's paw. Cold ice enveloped her paw as she saw his life pass before her eyes; his wife and children being murdered by his closest friend, and his own death by his friend's hand. The whole time, a voice whispered in her mind, I have chosen you to avenge my death and lead my people to paradise. You shall be called Ras'Taran, cleasing fire. Go now, and spread my gift.
The visions faded and Rastaran stared up at the moon. She wept, but didn't know who for.
Human Description
Age: 18
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 122 lbs
Hair: Dark Red
Eyes: Green
Werewolf Description
Height: 7'3"
Weight: 360 lbs
Fur: Reddish Normal Wolf Markings
Eyes: Dark Green
Since her Marking, Rastaran has gone forth into the world, spreading the word and will of Sammael, creating a pack to drive back the vampires and resurrect Sammael so they might follow him into paradise.
Statistics
| Total loot: | 46,696.05 kgs of flesh |
| Victims bitten (via link): | 19 |
| Fights: | 832 |
| Victories: | 207 |
| Defeats: | 625 |
| Draws: | 0 |
| Gold gained: | ~ 5,000.00  |
| Gold lost: | ~ 11,000.00 |
| Damage to enemies: | 27083.49 |
| Damage from enemies: | 134586.91 |
The attributes of Rastaran:
| Character level: | Level 20 |
| Strength: |    (32) |
| Defence: | (30) |
| Agility: | (32) |
| Stamina: | (29) |
| Dexterity: | (24) |
| Experience: |   (1939|2000) |
The ancestral site statistics of Rastaran
| Attempted challenges: | 0 |
| Successful challenges: | 0 |
| Failed challenges: | 0 |
The sentinel of Rastaran
| Sentinel breed: | Enraged hound |
| Sentinel name: | Nibbles |
| Attack: | (12) |
| Defence: | (11) |
| Stamina: | (11) |
Profile
| Gender: | female |
| Age: | 15-20 Years |
| Hometown: | North Dakota |
| ICQ-number: | --- |
| MSN Messenger: | --- |
| Yahoo Messenger: | --- |
| AIM-Name: | --- |
| Jabber ID | --- |
| Skype ID | --- |
Arena
Rastaran has not yet achieved a special arena rank.
Rastaran has created 6 Werewolves so far:
| Porkchop | Level 18 | Loot 46420.55 kgs of flesh |
| Burakari | Level 15 | Loot 33792.79 kgs of flesh |
| King_of_Killers | Level 13 | Loot 20615.09 kgs of flesh |
| Corlyn | Level 11 | Loot 17346.9 kgs of flesh |
| Grimknuts | Level 7 | Loot 4002.74 kgs of flesh |
| Enkaia | Level 1 | Loot 7.8 kgs of flesh |