Name:Razgul Age:20 Gender:Male Species: Demonic Werewolf Personality: Razgul is a very strong leader, but he's new at it. He recently took over his pack from his father and a new learner to all the ways of leadership. He's been learning fast over the past month he's bee in control, and like his father before him he was a human killer. His father had been hunted throughout his life...but never caught...until a month ago. The male had mysteriously come back to his pack, a poison arrow stuck between his wings where the main bloodline of his body traveled. The blood by the top of his and his son's back's are extremely narrow because they go to the wings and cannot carry a heavy amount of fluid. The poison had spread through the pinioned appendages, destroying the tissues and infecting the one thing he can't manage himself. If the wings of the demon wolves ever got injured, they couldn't shift back. That was their one weakness. Yes, flying was an advantage, but it was also the greatest disadvantage. The pack was extremely well known around the area, even though most members had no wings and stayed far away from town. Razgul and his father were gifted with the appendages, but they couldn't use them to fly. It was to obvious, to well known to look above as you walked the streets at night. Surprise was something the wolves no longer had while flying. Now all Raz could use his wings for was to bound swiftly through the forest and leap extremely high. Flying was suicide since guards were stationed everywhere to watch for him. Tonight was a very calm one, only crickets were heard along the edge of the forest as the giant wolf stalked out in to the night air. His pitch black wings reflected off moon's rays, shining with a warm gray, almost like a flashed-signal. He kept them tightly folded against his back so they didn't signal any of the guards in the watch towers around town. Tonight Razgul needed to hunt...to bring back at least one human for his hungry pack. He was new, not but a month old in his position of leader. The second Raztul had died everyone turned their eyes to the last winged wolf, waiting for him to take over and not screw up...right off the bat. Raz felt the pressure, badly, but he kept it inside and remained quiet and calm. Stressing out wouldn't help the male catch anything...he needed to focus. The past month he'd caught about five humans and two deer. It wasn't a bad kill record for a new leader but he needed to make a kill tonight. During all those kills the boy had gotten lucky though...he hadn't found a single hunter during any of the chases. Lucky. He just hoped his luck was just as good tonight. With a quiet grunt Razgul ducked down in to the tall wheat field that connected the giant Baziell Forest to the great town of Sherwell. He ducked and dodged swiftly through the cornstalks, dodging around foot traps that he'd memorized and jumping over small pitfalls. He kept his wings against him and moved quickly, hoping to get to town without being spotted. If he was seen the alarm would be raised and all his work for a sneak attack would be ruined for the day.