Pallas

Two littermates (NPCs)

Wichita (Guardian)

## Application Sheet

Pallas was a reddish-brown she-wolf with darker markings and vivid green eyes. Born outside of the Domain, she would eventually join Xassa in the midst of the Hive Wars with her guardian Wichita. Her story is ongoing. Pallas was created and RP'd by panderingpangolins.

## Personality

* ***Curious but Nosy.*** Pallas longs to learn everything there is to know about the world. Her puppy fascination with the undiscovered only grows as she ages and leaves her thirsty for knowledge. This extends to learning about others as well, to the point where some may find her a bit snoopy. Overall, she is able to be fascinated with just about anything and rarely lets herself grow bored.
* ***Experimental and Reckless.*** No question is too dumb to ask, but short and open-ended answers are inexcusable to Pallas. If left with an unsatisfactory response, she will get her own paws dirty to find an appropriate answer. She enjoys experimenting with everything she comes across, even if it is an incredibly stupid and risky thing to do. A lot of her motivation is in researching the unknown and there is little that will deter her from reaching her goals.
* ***Competitive but Needy***. Despite being a second-place type of wolf, Pallas strives to achieve and prove her worth. She does not take kindly to taunts, be they friendly or not. Rivalries are born in the span of a breath when someone is considered worthy enough (be it mutual or one sided). Only those she considers the best catch her eye in order for her to properly best them. This desire is directly correlated with her needs to feel wanted. She constantly seeks out affection and affirmation from those she loves and will cling to them like glue, almost to the point of being strictly dependent.
* ***Calculating and Ruthless.*** Her curious nature has Pallas’s mind constantly thinking. She has a great attention to detail but tends to overthink things, for better or worse. Each move she makes is meticulously plotted out. To those she’s close to, she is cautious with her behavior to always appear open and friendly and to never offend (and thus drive them away). To those she hates, she uses every minuscule flaw and folly they learn to tear them down and Pallas is quite comfortable with unsavory actions. She is quick to strike down her enemies with little care of consequence and hardly blinks an eye when asked to do something most others would not
* ***Devout and Easily Manipulated.*** Because of her strong attachment-based personality, Pallas is extremely loyal to her loved ones. Nothing they do or say can ever smear their reputation in her heart, even if they are abusive towards her or attempt to lead her astray. She has difficulties recognizing when others mean to do her harm because she puts this unwavering faith within them. She’s become a little more guarded after the trauma of her puphood, but once someone wiggles their way within her heart, there is a high probability of the cycle repeating itself.

## Pre-Group History

Ever since her birth, Nicasia had been a survivor.

Born last in a litter of three, she struggled to stay alive from her first breath onwards. Her frail body was far too small compared to those of a healthy pup’s, but hers was also the only one that made it through the first day of life as her siblings perished as quickly as they had been born. But their parents had little time to grieve as their remaining daughter’s plugged nose needed constant tending to, the cough in her chest unending as the sickness purged through her. But somehow, Phoebe was able to keep her scrawny child strong enough to remain with the living until, finally, Nicasia gained enough strength to survive on her own.

Her father often joked that she could survive anything, no matter the cost. She was born of the gods, after all. And while her mother agreed, she still fretted over her fragile life and swore to protect her, no matter the cost.

Nicasia would never remember these experiences, but the aches and pains would continue to be her companions growing up. But that didn’t matter. She could handle the occasional coughing fit and sharp nettles stinging her lungs. This dance with death left a mark that would forever be branded on the young pup: she was alive, and she was very eager to live her life to the fullest.

She was born the sole daughter to a very prominent family belonging to the strange pack known as the Pact of Valekin. Her father Galen was its Head Priest and preached of ways to walk between this world and another magical realm, a place they called the Vale. In the Vale wolves were their perfect selves and the world itself was perfect too. There was no want the Vale could not satisfy, no sickness or hunger or murder could be found there. With the priests’ help and guidance, the wolves of Valekin had found a way to unlock their paradise.

And the Pact thrived. There was surely no such thing as sickness or hunger, not with the bountiful prey running within their lands. Wolves were far too content to care about murdering each other. They ate their fill and danced and sang praises and were a merry bunch, indulging in all the benefits the Vale provided them. All except a certain little girl, whose lungs still rattled, whose body still ached with sickness. A girl whose very veins were filled with impurities and rot.

In order to cleanse his daughter, Galen decided the sickness must be drained from her. Many nights they would travel to the highest point where the Vale’s influence was at its strongest and he would give her the things that made all the wolves so warm and happy. And it did make her happy, she often craved for the flowers and their magic hold on her. Once she had been entranced, Galen would slice open her veins and Nicasia would bleed until the sun rose and her paws were soaked in red. This would cure her illness, Galen said. And she believed in him and the pretty flowers and the Vale.

And yet, no matter how much she bled, her sickness still festered. So while Nicasia longed to join the Pact’s antics and merriment, Phoebe often kept her behind in her youth, never allowing her to stray far, ever fearful for her safety. Living a sheltered life might have been boring to any other pup, but Nicasia’s curious mind more than made up for the lack of adventure. She questioned any and all things that captivated her attention; the world she lived in was filled with wonder and the magic of the Vale was hidden within everything.

But of course, magic was not real.

One day while Nicasia practiced her songs in the field, a disheveled boy happened upon her. He’d been watching her, he confessed, and was worried for her. His name was Pallas and he told her the dangers of the Pact. Of how they lived in a state of addiction to those pretty flowers and the effects they held over them, how they believed their blood contained that of the gods. Of how they liked to feed that very blood to those gods.

She rebuffed him. Her father was helping the wolves, not killing them. And she was sick, her blood was tainted, the only way to cure her sickness was to rid herself of it.

Pallas left that day but often came back. And with each meeting Nicasia grew more and more willing to listen to his fairy tales. Not because she believed them, but because she

had no other companions and she was tired of being alone.

And yet deep down she knew. Despite what her father preached she knew the sky did not rain because the wolves danced and sung praises to their gods. The deer did not simply come about from their magic chants. There was always a reason that things worked the way they did, not because of the Vale, but because of something else. And Nicasia vowed that she would uncover all there was to learn. She theorized about everything she came across, be it prey patterns, the way the waves crashed against the shore, how lives began and ended, the reason why for it all.

She told her father of all the things she learned and was quickly informed that she had been led astray by the Trickster, the one who discredited magic and the Vale and led wolves into false worship and an early death. And it must have been Him who infected her soul from the day she was born.

The High Priest could not have a demon for a daughter.

Nicasia struggled as Galen dragged her towards the bleeding place. Her kind and gentle father was now full of rage and hatred, all directed at her. She wasn’t his daughter, he said, just a devil in her skin. She pleaded with him to let her go but she had grown weak from the many nights of losing blood. The flowers she so loved now made her belly sour and her head swim in all the wrong ways.

The Vale needed a sacrifice. They allowed the Trickster to come within their ranks and now the gods were angry. Nicasia knew this would be her last day in this world and while it had been wicked and cruel, it held an immense amount of beauty and wonder and secrets, too. If only she had gotten to explore what was beyond Valekin.

But then there was a growl and a roar and someone knocked Galen away from her. The next moment jaws were around her scruff and her legs were lifted off the ground. Despite her tears filling her eyes and mucus plugging her nose she knew it was Pallas who had saved her.

The boy with the disheveled hair took her from the Pact and brought her north to the wilds of the unknown world. And the outside world was endless. They hadn’t known just how vast it could be and they soon found themselves in over their heads.

It was hard, surviving on their own. Nicasia was still sick, worse off than she’d ever been before. She needed to rest and regain the blood she lost. So Pallas often left her in the hole they called a den and went in search of food during the day. At night they lamented what had happened to them. Nicasia asked how Pallas knew what he did. How was he so sure he was right and that Galen was wrong?

He said it wasn’t until the night of her very birth that he began to question everything the Pact stood for. When he witnessed Galen take his firstborn son and daughter from the womb and snapped their necks in half. Their corpses sat on that hill for days. How could a father who claimed to love his children do that? For some invisible gods he chose to believe? He must’ve fed the wrong gods, Pallas mused, because from that point on the High Priest was the one who had been cursed.

A curse. That was all Nicasia was. She wasn’t sure what was real or fake anymore, but that seemed to be the most true thing of all. No matter what Pallas said, what happened was all her fault. If only she wasn’t sick, if only she had been born normal. None of this would have happened, she would have joined the others in their celebrations and everything would have been as it should have been.

And still, her curse followed them.

It wasn’t long before they were found by the Pact. It seemed even Pallas knew this outcome was inevitable. They split ways, him urging her to continue northward to freedom, begging her not to look back. She wasn’t sure what she was being freed from, only that she was once again going to lose the only thing she’d known.

Nicasia escaped that day traveling in a field of wildflowers masking her scent. And she didn’t look back. She figured it was better to believe her one and only friend had made it out alive, even if she knew it was just a lie she was telling herself. She’d been lying to herself for her entire life anyway. What was one more?

She shed her name that day; Nicasia was no more. She instead took on the name of a wolf she only wished she could become one day. Someone who was brave and questioned the world, despite all its adversaries. She would seek for nothing but the truth and live on in the legacy of the one who gave her a chance to live for herself. She was Pallas, the sole survivor of her litter and defiler of the Vale. And she would continue to survive as she had done thusfar, no matter the cost. Whether or not she was born of the gods or just a simple curse she would have to see.

So Pallas continued north until her feet could barely carry her another step, until her starving belly begged her to stop. She could survive, but not on her own. She was still just a child in a world she was unprepared for. Just as the end was drawing near was when she stumbled upon another stranger, whose golden pelt was as warm as the sun, who happened to have a knack for spinning tales she so happily believed…

## Trivia

* Her sickness is often the worst during allergy season and winter months.
* As a puppy her ears are rather floppy.
* Has a strong aversion to perfumy/flowery scents.
* Is very guarded with her front legs and does not let anyone touch them.

## External Links

* Official Application Sheet
* panderingpangolins's deviantART Gallery