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Description

Name: Invictus
Gender: AMAB Male
Age: 8 years (Mature Adult)

Species: Giant (Body and antler type based on moose!)
Height: 7 ft at the shoulder
Weight: 1800 lbs\
Appearance:
Invictus is a hefty stag set upon two long but incredibly sturdy legs, with a sloping back that connects between pronounced shoulders and hips. Like his legs, his neck is lengthy but strong, with his pale head often held lower than it could be to seem less immediately intimidating. Aside from the white covering his face and making a spot on his neck, Invictus is covered in deep reddish browns, that drape across his body in conjunction with his layered fur. Behind wide palmate antlers, his sorely lacking ears sit, torn nearly to the base with little explanation for why. His expression is a never-changing lidded smile, with his dark sloping eyes almost looking sad if you weren't paying attention to his expression. His cheek and brow bone are somewhat pronounced on his face, and many sleepless nights have etched themselves into the wrinkles around his eyes.

Herd: Solitary
Task: -
Rank: -

Personality:
First impressions of Invictus is a man very soft-spoken and gentle, his voice holding a curious but calm cadence that always seeks to learn everything about the cervid he speaks to. Be the reception welcoming, wary, or snappish, he reacts very little, which may be comforting to some, and wholly disconcerting to others. The most unpleasant insults may be hurled his way, and he will simply smile and question where they learned it from. He will actively go out of his way to aid another deer, insisting upon the idea that he is nothing if he does not lend his abilities where they may be needed. And abilities aplenty he most certainly has.
However, while one could not be blamed for trusting him, another would not be wrong in wholly distrusting him. Beneath that surface is a visage most unpleasant, an awful boiling cesspit of twisted ideals, draconic philosophies, and violent tendencies. A distaste for those who cannot fathom the idea of betterment. A bitter hatred for the world at large and the boons it's left just out of grasp. Judgment upon those who would refuse to seek it.

History:
The world was awful. Cruel.

Invictus was born into fire, dropped in the middle of an inferno he could never have hoped to comprehend. Not until the blood had soaked his once beautiful white fur, leaving him stumbling about with his matted and saturated coat. It was when he had to share meat beside his mother that his eyes then darkened, never to be pure again. And the world would always know it, even seeing fit to send wolves after his ears and his mother for it.
At least, that's the story he'll tell when he decides the time is right.

While partially true, and perhaps just as dramatic for a fresh start to life, the ideas of his supposed pale coat and eyes were little more than the lies his mother fed him while she guided him through the mountains, living off of ferns, bark, and whatever protein she could find. She'd hoped to escape from the fires that ravaged her home forest and the skirmish that came shortly after from the herds fighting over resources. The stags she'd happened to like were dead or dying, and she saw no point in staying and fighting over land that would never recover soon.
But Lilium was never fit to be a mother to begin with. A dutiful caretaker, but one who saw the inconvenience of life with a child as a slight against her. Regret turned into annoyance, annoyance turned to resentment. Resentment turned into the impulse to leave. To never warn her quickly growing child of danger. To let him walk into situations he had not the experience to recognize.

Perhaps her disappearance was an exchange for his life, given to him by the wolves that stole his ears. That's what he believes, anyways.
And though he was thankful for his life, they still took from him. Took that which was not theirs. Were they little more than cowards? Taking his ears but not his life? His mother was selfless, but she had to die? How unmerciful. How barbaric. How idiotic.
Grim as it was, he took his survival as a message. A message, to a thought. A thought, to a plan.

What does he plan?
Group Events: TBA

ANTLER REF: sketchfab.com/3d-models/moose-…

Description

Name: Invictus
Gender: AMAB Male
Age: 8 years (Mature Adult)

Species: Giant (Body and antler type based on moose!)
Height: 7 ft at the shoulder
Weight: 1800 lbs\
Appearance:
Invictus is a hefty stag set upon two long but incredibly sturdy legs, with a sloping back that connects between pronounced shoulders and hips. Like his legs, his neck is lengthy but strong, with his pale head often held lower than it could be to seem less immediately intimidating. Aside from the white covering his face and making a spot on his neck, Invictus is covered in deep reddish browns, that drape across his body in conjunction with his layered fur. Behind wide palmate antlers, his sorely lacking ears sit, torn nearly to the base with little explanation for why. His expression is a never-changing lidded smile, with his dark sloping eyes almost looking sad if you weren't paying attention to his expression. His cheek and brow bone are somewhat pronounced on his face, and many sleepless nights have etched themselves into the wrinkles around his eyes.

Herd: Solitary
Task: -
Rank: -

Personality:
First impressions of Invictus is a man very soft-spoken and gentle, his voice holding a curious but calm cadence that always seeks to learn everything about the cervid he speaks to. Be the reception welcoming, wary, or snappish, he reacts very little, which may be comforting to some, and wholly disconcerting to others. The most unpleasant insults may be hurled his way, and he will simply smile and question where they learned it from. He will actively go out of his way to aid another deer, insisting upon the idea that he is nothing if he does not lend his abilities where they may be needed. And abilities aplenty he most certainly has.
However, while one could not be blamed for trusting him, another would not be wrong in wholly distrusting him. Beneath that surface is a visage most unpleasant, an awful boiling cesspit of twisted ideals, draconic philosophies, and violent tendencies. A distaste for those who cannot fathom the idea of betterment. A bitter hatred for the world at large and the boons it's left just out of grasp. Judgment upon those who would refuse to seek it.

History:
The world was awful. Cruel.

Invictus was born into fire, dropped in the middle of an inferno he could never have hoped to comprehend. Not until the blood had soaked his once beautiful white fur, leaving him stumbling about with his matted and saturated coat. It was when he had to share meat beside his mother that his eyes then darkened, never to be pure again. And the world would always know it, even seeing fit to send wolves after his ears and his mother for it.
At least, that's the story he'll tell when he decides the time is right.

While partially true, and perhaps just as dramatic for a fresh start to life, the ideas of his supposed pale coat and eyes were little more than the lies his mother fed him while she guided him through the mountains, living off of ferns, bark, and whatever protein she could find. She'd hoped to escape from the fires that ravaged her home forest and the skirmish that came shortly after from the herds fighting over resources. The stags she'd happened to like were dead or dying, and she saw no point in staying and fighting over land that would never recover soon.
But Lilium was never fit to be a mother to begin with. A dutiful caretaker, but one who saw the inconvenience of life with a child as a slight against her. Regret turned into annoyance, annoyance turned to resentment. Resentment turned into the impulse to leave. To never warn her quickly growing child of danger. To let him walk into situations he had not the experience to recognize.

Perhaps her disappearance was an exchange for his life, given to him by the wolves that stole his ears. That's what he believes, anyways.
And though he was thankful for his life, they still took from him. Took that which was not theirs. Were they little more than cowards? Taking his ears but not his life? His mother was selfless, but she had to die? How unmerciful. How barbaric. How idiotic.
Grim as it was, he took his survival as a message. A message, to a thought. A thought, to a plan.

What does he plan?
Group Events: TBA

ANTLER REF: sketchfab.com/3d-models/moose-…