Character Biography Full Name: Zasha shall-Iron Claw
Species: Wolf
Gender: Female
Age and Place of Birth: 18/ RyDauge City/
Rank and Title: Black smith. Iron claw
Appearance: Zasha is 5"11. She has dark gray fur with black lines etched through it. Zasha has attractive golden colored eyes. Along with a firm body shape do to her work at the forge. Although she is 18 years of age. She has spent yet most of her life doing what she does best. Shape amazing armors and weaponry.
Family:None alive (To her knowledge)
Friends: Prefers to stay secluded. Though she had recently made a friend that developed into a romance rather quickly. This friend is now gone. Will develop more.
Enemies:Will develop.
Love Life: Synopsis of love life: During the festival of hope and peace, Zasha developed an attraction for a Nezumi. It was sudden and romantic, but did not last long as the Nezumi went away. (Love life may develop more later)
Likes: Strength, Honesty, Weapons, Hard workers, Hard work, Being true to ones self and to others, Battling.
Hates: Liars, sadness, crying, beings who think they are better than everyone else, when someone takes the credit for something they did not do, the easy way out of hard work or choices, Admitting her feelings.
Fears: sadness, crying, becoming crippled so that she can not use her smithy or make armor and weapons, She has a fear of spotted things due to a child hood trauma. Admitting her feelings... especially love.
Strengths: Building things and creating weapons and armor. She is good with a variety of weapons. Has great stamina. Is very resilient.
Weaknesses: Is bad at emotional moments. Gets angry when she is wrong and or fails at something. Is too hard on herself. Scared to get emotionally close to somebody.
Weaponry and Gear:
(Steel long sword):
(Studded leather pants with her typical clothing):
(Has reinforced her claws with iron.):
Training: (Basic hand to hand and versatility in weaponry):
(How to use a smithy):
History: Character Biography Zasha has had a sad life. One day as a child Zasha had been spoken to by her mother. She had said that she had to go out for a while. Now, Zasha was only young when this happened. She was just young enough that her mother figured that she probably would not notice the moister around her eyes. But, instead of asking why she seemed so upset. Zasha just nodded her head. What else could she do? she knew something as wrong and that she could do nothing to fix it. She asked where her mother was going. But she would not tell her anything. She just grasped her daughter tightly, too tightly in fact. That Zasha knew something bad was happening. She also knew her mother was too proud too admit anything. Maybe that is why Zasha is so similar to her mother. Her mother left the room in a hurry as there was a noise outside. Leaving Zasha staring after her, wide and brim eyed. When everything quieted down. She rose to her feet. Then peered outside to find her mother leaving the city with another figure. She could not see much of the figures features but a spotted like tail whisking out of the city as they disappeared into the night. Zasha was strangely compelled to follow. She knew she had to stop something that was going to happen. But she had no idea what was actually going on. As she slipped out of the city just before the gated closed. She walked up the mountain, following dusty prints. She traveled as far as half way up the trail she was on. Zasha's body froze as the echo's of arguing resounded up ahead.
Zasha could not stand it. Then when the sound of a feminine sounding accusative shout called her mothers name. Along with many other insults. She bolted up the hill calling for her. When she got up there, her mother ran down to meet her. A fresh reddening wound on her mothers cheek told her that her suspicion was correct. "What happened?" she asked silently. Her mothers mouth opened "I have to tell you something...." she murmured guiltily. But before she could tell her any other word. The sound of a growling hiss stilled her mothers words. Soon after, a rock fall traveled down the mountain. She wanted her mother to hold her, but instead she pushed her away. The rock fall crushing her mothers body under them and forcing her over the mountains edge. She ran to the edge, shouting her mothers name... although now she could not remember what it was shamefully. It might have been because of the extra rock she had not waited for had skipped off the mountain and clubbed her in the back of the head. She remembered blacking out and waking up groggily. A non wolf like smell overcoming her as the other form her mother had left the city with, then carried her back to the city. The figure was saying something... something she could barely remember. All that Zasha could fish up out of her head was "I am so sorry... I did not mean for this to happen my little..." the raspy voice carried no more sound as she was on the verge of unconsciousness. The last thing she remembers from that night was the figures eyes. They were a bright golden yellow much like her own. Although she never thought much of it. She frequently wakes up at night. Moister and tears brimming at her eyes as she recounted events that she was mad at herself for forgetting. No body believed her when she said it was murder. Not an accident.
One morning after another nightmare. She went over to the smithy. The wolf there had varying degrees of kindness and seriousness. She liked to mention that she was just like a sort of apprentice to her. This always made Zasha happy despite her dreams. The wolf smith also took the extra time she had to teach her sword play. Although she seemed kind of hurrying as the days grew past into months. Soon, she figured out why. The wolf smith was sick. Apparently with some sort of fatal sickness. She would not tell her what it was, though. Zasha stayed with her that one last night. She remembered falling asleep at her bedside. A whisper in her ear as she faded into an oddly restful sleep. "The smithy belongs to you now..." Zasha has spent the most of her life working the smithy. She did not know why she felt so strongly about it. Maybe because hard work reminded herself of her mother. Or because she felt she owed the now deceased wolf smith. But one thing she was certain of, she was the best of the best at it. Give her a material, and she will create the thing of which you desire most. Or at least get very close to it.
Last edited by Marco on Fri Jan 30, 2015 9:06 pm, edited 9 times in total.
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