Elven Sex GoddessCharacter Name:
Tamara Abigail McKenzie "Loup Rouge"Age:
Heterosexual with a curiousness and openness to try anything beyond normal comfort.Powers:
The ability to shift into a dire wolf size wolf. A wolf that one would think is from the prehistoric age. The preternatural sense of smell and hearing. That also transcends to her human form. Giving her a uncanny ability to hunt and track. A preternatural rate of healing that heals at ten times the rate of a normal human. With a qualify exception listed below in weaknesses. In the wolf form a preternatural strength and quickness and a bite that makes a rottweiler seem like a fleas bite. In human form her strength and quickness not at preternatural ability more at a human at peak human conditioning.
Her ability to change to wolf form is not condition to the full moon only. That of the full moon is explained in weaknesses. However, Tamara has the ability to change with her force of will. Race:
Silver, causes aggravated damage that does not heal with her enhance werewolf healing factor. Full moon frenzy, change to wolf form automatic and remain such in the grip of the wolf for the duration of the full moon. Finally a weakness born of who she is that is mental in aspect. Which is with the personality trait of being a alpha and protector. She is intensely loyal to those that are in the pack. In such away that can become a weakness of one took advantage of such deep rooted personality traits.
To be with others of her kind. She has long sought such out. An now that she found a pack that she can be part of she will strive not to lose such a family.Personality:
One simple trait that runs in her family and all descendants from Ian the first of the family line. An does not change with Tamara being the first female heir to inherit the curse of the white wolf bite. She is alpha in nature. Her other prominent inherent personality trait is she is a protector. Along with a survival trait that has served her well. History:
Legend has it through the Blue Ridge Mountain range of western North Carolina among the hardy locals that populate the region. To the outside world they are known as hillbillies. Backward people with superstitions and mythical lore. Old wives tales that are carried from generation to generation. Once such tale has persisted to this day and age. The old wives tale of the 'Loup Rouge'. From before the revolutionary war. This story grew, started among the hardy papist of the Scottish highlanders who had come mostly as indenture servants to the colonies. Men and women who had followed the Bonnie Prince Charles and the Stuart uprising.
One such family had a secret long hidden yet widely known and spoken in whispers. For they were garoou. What the world would call werewolves shape shifters. Settling on what would be called McKenzie Valley on the heel of Blue Ridge Mountain. Ian McKenzie once a laird of the clan McKenzie in the Scotland Highlands. A large man of six feet and three inches, broad of shoulders. Thick of limbs with power. Would be bitten by a spirit wolf. That is to the native Americans of the land the Cherokee Indians. A animal that is pure white, is a spirit animal. It thou had not stayed after suddenly leaping out and biting Ian. It turned and ran. As a highlander, Ian took off fearless and undaunted by the size of this great large white wolf. Running full tilt heedless of where he is being led. He burst into a clearing and a Indian village. In the commotion of a slaughter as the village is under attack. Women and children crying and screaming. With a Gaelic war cry he launched himself into the fray causing both those being attacked and those attacking to pause and look at this giant of a man suddenly wade into the battle.
After the battle those of the village who survived the attackers all dead, the carnage great. An in that moment all knew the truth the giant of a man with fiery red hair. Is the reason the village stands victorious. One old woman a squaw of indeterminate age would step forward and lift his hand which still streamed blood from the bite. She lifted it and looked it over. It was not a wound of the battle. It is a bite.
Through limited in language between the parties. The Indians would piece together he had been bitten by a white wolf. A spirit wolf and they would look at him reverently. He return home to his land and tenants. A few dozen settlers some highlanders some Germans and French. Papist and protestant in religion. Yet bound together in a new world in forging a life.
The first full moon Ian would change and the legend of the Loup Rouge would be born. A legend that would be passed down through the generations to his descendants. Through the American Revolution and then the American Civil war and in the course of history. The stories and the legends would grow. Through the sightings of the Loup Rouge were very rare.
Tamara Abigail McKenzie a beautiful young woman twenty two years of age. Like her ancestors she is a ginger with fiery hair. An like her great many times descendant she is the one who the infliction of lycanthropy surfaces the next in the long line of Loup Rouge. However, she is the first woman of the lineage to do so. As the others before her since Ian. She would change on the first full moon right after her sixteenth birthday.
She knew the stories knew the lore and it scared her. She wanted not this, she felt tied and yet apart from the land. Yet beyond Ian no one had ever seen the White wolf, the spirit wolf again. That is until now. For the spirit wolf that while wolf would come again. It happen a year later the nights of the full moon. Tamara forced to change in the full moon. Would catch glimpses of the white wolf. The Loup Rouge would follow. Led far from home and hearth of her world of the ridge. Where her family and people have resided for over two hundred years. She loped following the elusive white all night. Its scent so very real yet no matter how strong it would become she seem never to close the the gap.
By morning she had come to a hunting cabin. She change back she is unsure how far she has gone. For she is not in familiar territory of the ridge. She is nude, ones clothes do not mystically change. She sees no activity with the cabin. It is deserted and it is open. Unlocked she would find clothes and a bed to sleep in.
The full moon turned to a waning Gibbous moon. That night, she could not smell or sight the white wolf again. Yet the pull of the night had her not returning towards home. But again widening the distance to home and family. Something else is driving her, she cannot name it. She stumble through the wilderness in human guise. A woman lost, the pain of hunger growing each day. The nights bringing a chill. She is not a survivalist. She knew not how to build a fire. It became clear as she settled down for the coming night on that third night. That she is lost and would likely die in the wilderness of the back country. Either of hypothermia or and starvation. Rising up she strip off the oversize hunter clothes she had taken and worn. The chill of the night causing a ripple of goosebumps to appear across her skin. In full concentration she would will herself to change, something she had never done in a year. She had only changed on the full moon. She succeeds as her body melds and shifts, twisting and becoming the red wolf. She let herself be drawn into that side of her the instinct of a hunter as a wolf. She lop off into the woods in search of a meal. Tamara awakens the next morning she is nude, sprawled on the ground. Yet a fullness of belly is felt. As she comes clear of thought she is got blood on her. An the carcass of a deer buck lays near, it has been ravaged as if a predator had feasted. She knows that predator was her. The bile of vomit that once rose with such thoughts when she had done such on the ridge during full moons. Does not come, she thinks reflectively for a moment rises and looks around. Again letting the instincts flowing through. She returns to her clothes and dresses.
Its been five years of wandering for Tamara as she stands outside the Hollow. It be a full moon this night. Five years the spirit quest has driven her. She knew not wholly what she searched for, but she knew without knowing that once she found it she would know. She had heard rumors and caught scents of other werewolves. Through she had not ever come across one. Now standing outside of the Hollow she felt a tug and draw. Sensing kindred near it is with great growing excitement of mind that she would enter the bar.