•▪▫ Moniker : Laizjan [lai-zu-jan]
•▪▫ Alias : Zjan [zu-jan]
•▪▫ Gender : Male
•▪▫ Age : Young Adult
•▪▫ Birth : 27, September 1937
•▪▫ Species : Foxwolf
•▪▫ Fur : Electricity bound slate
•▪▫ Origin : Luxembourg
•▪▫ Residence : Indonesia
•▪▫ Experience : WWII, Vietnam
•▪▫ Pack : 宿 Shukumei 命
•▪▫ Ability : Electricity
•▪▫ Impervious : All manner of natural occurences
•▪▫ Division : 108th WM
•▪▫ Fear : Failure
•▪▫ Specialty : Search and rescue
•▪▫ Weakness : Work before Life
•▪▫ Persona : Calm, Fierce, Determined, Brilliant, Resilient
•▪▫ Fate : Train wreck
•▪▫ Relation : Aku
The first thing that came to my mind was that I was imperfect. I was a curse, a smear, a scar of what those around me thought I should be. I fear I will never let myself do that, and I cannot suffer the guilt to endear their desires over my own regrets and goals.
A thinning mist filtered down through the canopies of northern Germany. The forest might have been spruce, ash or something of that sort but in all honesty, it had nevered mattered for trees are trees it can be said. The common bird's song echoed around each branch and trunk, giving an odd feeling to this wilderness. A soft pattering of footsteps began to crunch over fallen needles and decayed foliage, the crisp sound was muffled with the slow shuffle of the footfall. It seemed either a very cautious thing was at hand, or just a lazy one.
It was a slate wolf, and he was neither cautious nor wary, Laizjan was simply one who felt his feet were better closer to the ground. As he let the warmth of the soil roll along his paws, it may seem that shuffling could be the only word for the action. He wanted to call out, and shock the silence of this empty place he once called home. A hundred years before, he had walked this same path now covered in the forest's tribune... if it was of use at some point, it was surely not now. Things had grown into the old trail and Laizjan might've been the first of his kind to cross this way for decades.
It was in the year of 1942, he was only a pup then, when the nuclear detonation changed him. He turned from his only companions, his pack, and left. The nuclear missile was the only of it's kind, a bio-chemical stroke of genius. It killed only those without blood of an ancient line.
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