Jedediah.

Personality: Jedediah is an old soul. His nature is delicate and slow, and he takes his time with things. Instead of acting on impulse, as he was so infamous for as a pup, he has become more calculating. At his age, risky situations become a fragile balance of life and death--mistakes are something he cannot afford. In the days of his youth, Jedediah was, if anything, a bandit--romantic, spontaneous, proud, and full of adventure. He ran with many dogs--from the most wild feral monsters to the most demure house pets. He lived every day as if it were his last. Now, as an ambling old coyote, he lives each day as though it were his first. Though aged and faded, with his glory days gone, he still wears a smile and his eyes flash with spirited humor. Jedediah, having never been anything more than a dusty story to the pups he fathered, acts as a grandfather to the misguided pups he comes across--it's as though he's making up for lost time. He enjoys the banter that comes with speaking to the more youthful dogs. In his words, it "makes him feel young again." With a trembling step and a laugh that sounds like old oak, Jedediah is a spirit of the past ghosting through the present.


Appearance: Jedediah's fur is matted with age, and he wears tapering scars as if they were badges of honor. His eyes are a faded yellow and they glow with rich history. His muscles, which were once plump and full, have now significantly reduced with age. Beneath all of that matted fur, Jedediah is extremely thin and frail. One of his rear legs is stricken with worsening arthritis, causing him to walk with a signature limp. Despite the setbacks that his wounded leg causes him, Jedediah hardly ever lets it get the best of him. Though he is no longer spry, he is still physically capable.



History: Born to a mother who detested humans, Jedediah was quick to learn and memorize an extremely biased telling of their fall from grace. He and his sisters, of which there were two, spent much of their puppyhood humoring their mother as she ranted and regaled them with the same story over and over and over again. In Jedediah's words, his mother was "a spitfire gal that never shut up." While this was true, she provided Jedediah and his two sisters with the best upbringing she could. Jedediah absorbed the world through wide and wondering eyes. He yearned for the freedom of maturity.

At two years old, Jedediah broke free from the smothering guidance of his mother and joined the world as a vivacious and explosive coyote. He traveled widely and found romance and adventure wherever he went. He stole hearts and broke them; started fights and ended them; made friends and lost them. His life was rough 'n tumble with very little time for pauses. It was only when he reached the age of five that he finally took a moment to catch his breath, and suddenly the world was much slower than before. It was then, too, that his leg began to ache and his spark began to fade. He had always feared growing old, and always prayed that he would die in the heat of doing something grand.

But now, he has settled into the groove of the waiting game. He has finally begun to appreciate the old and wise oak trees.

Season born: Winter.


RP Sample:

Sometimes, he wondered where the time went. He wondered why summer had to fade and give way to the chill of autumn. He stood between two great oaks, the length of a vast and old forest at his back. In the far distance, he noticed the rigid silhouettes of skyscrapers against the blue morning sky. He had heard whispers of this city and of the turmoil that lie within. There was a war of some nature unfolding. 

Jedediah limped with delicate paws over the tender, fallen leaves. The meadow that lie before him was subject to a brisk autumn wind, and a small grunt left his throat as he braced himself against the chill. He knew not why he was ambling towards the city--he knew that this war, the nature of which he did not understand, probably had nothing to do with him. Perhaps he was in search of a good story? Perhaps.

Or, maybe it was the onset of winter that had him yearning for the warmth and touch of others. 

He trekked onward, until the sight and smell of blood mixing with earth caught his attention. The trail was fresh and the excitement of a meal put him in an uncommonly joyful mood. He bounded along the blood, his weathered ears stiffly perked. At the trail's end, Jedediah found the rotting remains of a large hare. A large raven on the corpse paused his approach. 

The raven, its black head slicked with blood, looked up from its meal and croaked with great gusto. 

"Hey! Hey! Old man! Have you heard about the war in Hexasol?"

Jedediah tilted his head. 

"To some degree. I haven't given it much thought, t'be honest."

The raven cackled--a laugh mixed with a loud croak--and swallowed down more chunks of hare. 

"They say it's raining cats and dogs--can you believe that?"

Jedediah sat down before the carcass and cautiously helped himself to some hare. He listened, with renewed interest, to the raven's tale of dogs fighting cats. 





Link to image of character: Here