Character Name: Narivar Oakheart
Age: Seventeen Summers.
Gender: Strictly male.
Race: Lycanthrope, pure blooded.
Power: Shape-shifting, increased wound regeneration, above average strength. A natural born druid.
Appearance: Standing just above six feet in height and weighing in at roughly sixteen stones in weight, he stands with the posture of an ever lax dog that spends its days lounging in the warm sunny spot on a summer porch. Mussed brown hair sits like a dirty mop atop his head, unkempt save for the odd brushing that it gets when somethings stuck in it. While not exactly the most ripped person in the gym he's far from flabby or lazy. A standing feature are eyes of deep emerald, a window to the soul of the forest itself, or simply his sight organs, depends on if you're mystic like that or not. Clothing wise, its often beaten up to hand-me-down clothes, ragged jeans, a flannel shirt, somehow he hopes the commissary will furnish him with some better fitting outfits.
Personality: Ever calm and laid back, a constantly blunt attitude leads many to think him for rude and impolite whereas he was taught to believe the truth is the only constant in the world.
History: Born to a kind hearted mother and an unknown sire and raised away from any sort of hustle and bustle of major cityscapes with the knowledge of the world abound. Being hunted for what they were and what they could become was not often far from their minds as they grew up, a small family of three, his younger sister a mysterious addition, though not bound by blood direct, she is still treated as such by him.
Time and puberty brought many changes, a budding aptitude for magic of the earth, and a rapidly growing body to match a wanderlust rarely seen in a race that rarely travels far from where they were born.
Theme Music: Other: Shoot man, I dunno. He
really likes cinnamon buns.
