[align=center][div style="width: 60%; height: auto; font-family: verdana; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; line-height: 13px; border-bottom: 5px COLOR solid; padding-bottom: 5px; color: COLOR;"]Kilgore had grown up in the desert, had seen it for the first time upon crawling out of his mother's den as a snot-nosed pup; to go from a dusty, dry cave to a warmer climate with a bright glare shining directly on a pelt full of thick fur was unpleasant, but he quickly got accustomed to it. How he could he not? He would have nowhere else to go, no outside contacts to retreat to for relief. His family lived in The Pitt, had died in The Pitt. He could faintly recall a large figure staring down at him, how Kilgore had put his paws directly on this stranger's muzzle and yipped, wagging his tail as a breeze of excitement passed through his very core. Who that wolf had been — where he had gone — the growing dire-wolf had not a clue. His memories were a blur, and his past days had been spent surviving off of the scraps of a passerby and keeping his head down so as not to catch the attention of someone he'd regret running into.
He was older now, so much older, and it was his time to learn, adapt, and overcome. The poor conditions of his life would grow still, and he would take the reigns and turn it around himself. The pride of what was assumed to be upcoming achievements swelled in his chest, stirring restlessly until it sent shock waves down his spine. Older characters oft yearned for the ignorance of their younger years, but being apart of the youth all Kilgore could do was hope for the future and for the unexpected to happen spinning his life all the way around on its axis.
The young dire-wolf would start by introducing himself and making a name. It should be relatively easy. The Pitt was not a subtle group, and it would not be hard to be heard over the moans and groans of slaves and the low growl of the common folk. He stood squarely in the busiest spot he could find in the Ancient City, paws and legs spread out beneath a robust body and a determined glint in his mint-green eyes. "My name is Kilgore." he announced. When nobody came up to him the first time, residents passing by him without a backwards glance, he stated louder, "My name is Kilgore!" it was a pitiful shout, naivety wafting off of him in droves. His thick southern accent, awkward and high-pitched, only enhanced the hilarity of the situation and his lack of self-awareness.
He was older now, so much older, and it was his time to learn, adapt, and overcome. The poor conditions of his life would grow still, and he would take the reigns and turn it around himself. The pride of what was assumed to be upcoming achievements swelled in his chest, stirring restlessly until it sent shock waves down his spine. Older characters oft yearned for the ignorance of their younger years, but being apart of the youth all Kilgore could do was hope for the future and for the unexpected to happen spinning his life all the way around on its axis.
The young dire-wolf would start by introducing himself and making a name. It should be relatively easy. The Pitt was not a subtle group, and it would not be hard to be heard over the moans and groans of slaves and the low growl of the common folk. He stood squarely in the busiest spot he could find in the Ancient City, paws and legs spread out beneath a robust body and a determined glint in his mint-green eyes. "My name is Kilgore." he announced. When nobody came up to him the first time, residents passing by him without a backwards glance, he stated louder, "My name is Kilgore!" it was a pitiful shout, naivety wafting off of him in droves. His thick southern accent, awkward and high-pitched, only enhanced the hilarity of the situation and his lack of self-awareness.
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he who drinks from the deep water
MAY HE KNOW THE DEPTHS OF THE WELL —— "MAY I STAND UNSHAKEN?"
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( ♛ ) - ————————————————— -「 the pitt & bio & & [url=https://beastsofbeyond.com/index.php?action=profile;u=7]main acc. 」