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Description
I'm not giving up on Nahuel yet. I decided to rework my previous bid and enter it in the current design your own auction.

The fog had rolled in thick, smothering all but the occasional chirp of a long-limbed insect and the creaking of age-old trees. One dark ear swiveled wide and Nahuel snorted. When there wasn't anything to be heard, one's thoughts were left to wander, left to revisit the sounds of the past and nightmares that lingered fresh just behind the eyes: screams in an otherwise silent forest, blood bubbling in another's throat, and the last dying breaths of his once closest friend.

He loved her, Chantrea; loved her with all of his heart. Their relationship transcended sweet nothings and instinctual fumbling and was instead carefully built on sincerity and a deep rooted trust established since fawnhood. He had her back and she knew that she could always rest her head on his. His sister knew how much Chantrea meant to him and would always poke fun at the notion of their fawn one day gracing the caverns. He'd have nothing of it, of course, but occasionally a quiet chuckle would escape him.

They were both six-years-old at the time, Chantrea and Nahuel, out scouting on behalf of the herd. Their task was to secure the area and to locate any fawn that may have wandered too far into their woods. They were dead silent and focused, but equally naive and ill prepared. The elders had always reminded the younger individuals of the perils outside of the cave system, but sometimes only seeing was believing and the stark spots and rosettes of a jaguar provided too many Oakferns with scars and the most unfortunate of eye openers.

The two Fawnlings fled at the sight of the predator, lithe legs and their small-enough statures making quick work of the unforgiving swamplands. They were fortunate in that they had wandered the quagmire when they were younger and were familiar with certain trees that Nahuel would often mark; unfortunate, however, in that the stag had since then grown antlers, hooked and split two ways. In the midst of the chase, one of his prongs caught hold of a low-level branch, costing him valuable time as he struggled to free himself. It was not his efforts but Chantrea who freed him, and it was she who soon found herself tagged by the jaguar, tooth and claw.

"Run, Nahuel! Save yourself!" He remembered the wide-eyed look of fear that mangled her features. They were not as he knew them so well. He tried to save her.

Even now he remembered the sensation of the big cat's chest upon his foremost tine and the warmth of its blood running down his face. He lowered his head under the weight of it all and his body grew cold as the last of the recollection rolled off of him.

His name meant Jaguar.

Nahuel still found himself frequenting the swamplands outside of the underground labyrinth of caves that he continued to call home. His antlers had grown more formidable with each season and his body toned by two-years-time, dark skin stretched tight over muscles now hot from the hunt. On some nights, he would don warpaint, letting his pelt speak for itself and serve as a warning to big cats and the Fawnlings of the neighboring kingdoms. He wanted them to know fear, as he had. On such nights, he would surrender his name to Gealach and become what he hated most, all for Oakfern, the atonement of his sins, and her.

Name: Nahuel
Pronunciation: Nah-WELL
Meaning: Jaguar
Gender: Stag, male, ♂
Breed: Fawnling
Use: Western Isles
Height: 7.2hh
Eye Colour: Brown
Build: Medium
Age: 8 Years, born in the Year 749 of the New Age
Colour: Black
Genotype: EE/aa/nSty
Bloodline: Oakfern
Sister: Nascha
Best Friend: Chantrea †

Temperament:
- Patient to a point. Will not sit around if there is work to be done.
- Fiercely loyal to and protective of his herd, as most Oakferns are.
- Fairly solitary as an individual, however. Not at all selfish, but reserved.
- Cool and curt, passionate, but composed. Rarely speaks if not necessary.
- Strong, but humble. Willing to follow orders so long as he believes in them.
- Observant. Well aware of his surroundings, but chooses not to involve himself in politics.
- Strict, very self-critical. Holds himself to higher standards than others, finds it hard to forgive.

Notes:
- Of a simple bloodline. Not a son of a king nor soldier, but of a simple stag and doe. Both of his parents have died of natural causes and are rarely spoken of.
- Occasionally suffers from nightmares, but tends to keep them to himself. A good majority of them revolve around the death of his dear friend Chantrea for which he blames himself.
- Remains very fond of his younger sister Nascha who has a number of vision defects and is unable to leave the confines of the caves. Will often bring her gifts or otherwise useful items from the outside world.
- Has come to terms with the meaning of his name at this point in his life and will occasionally don warpaint in the likeness of a jaguar. There are many reasons for this, including a desire to instill fear in those who pose a threat to his people. May be thought of as eccentric by some, but allows himself to be seen this way.
- Bones are trophies, not actively sought, but retained. Has acquired a small collection of skulls, claws, and teeth and will sometimes wear such items on his antlers.
- Not above stealing away fawns from the three neighboring kingdoms, but does not derive pleasure from this. Does what he does for Oakfern, not for himself.
- Somewhat uncomfortable with does after the loss of Chantrea. Finds it difficult to interact with them.
- Well versed when it comes to herbs and poisons. Also capable of treating minor wounds and ailments. A lot of trial and error, learns from his own experiences and what has worked for or hurt him in the past.

Affiliation: Oakfern
Current Location: Oakfern

Fight Stats
Speed: 2 (max. 7)
Stamina: 2
Strength: 5
Experience: 3
Strength +1 (Medium)
Starter points: (3) +2 Exp. +1 Str.

Herb Lore Level: Medium [11]
Water Magic Level: Basic [0]

Future Plans
- Increase skills and grow as an individual.
- Open up to others, perhaps even overcome his aversion to does.
- Become an effective soldier or captain, if the position were offered to him.
- Come to understand the importance of water magic and learn from another individual.
- And whatever else may come our way, of course. Always open to interesting interaction.

Fawnlings © Ehetere
Nahuel © me, TheWyvernAndTheFox

Description
I'm not giving up on Nahuel yet. I decided to rework my previous bid and enter it in the current design your own auction.

The fog had rolled in thick, smothering all but the occasional chirp of a long-limbed insect and the creaking of age-old trees. One dark ear swiveled wide and Nahuel snorted. When there wasn't anything to be heard, one's thoughts were left to wander, left to revisit the sounds of the past and nightmares that lingered fresh just behind the eyes: screams in an otherwise silent forest, blood bubbling in another's throat, and the last dying breaths of his once closest friend.

He loved her, Chantrea; loved her with all of his heart. Their relationship transcended sweet nothings and instinctual fumbling and was instead carefully built on sincerity and a deep rooted trust established since fawnhood. He had her back and she knew that she could always rest her head on his. His sister knew how much Chantrea meant to him and would always poke fun at the notion of their fawn one day gracing the caverns. He'd have nothing of it, of course, but occasionally a quiet chuckle would escape him.

They were both six-years-old at the time, Chantrea and Nahuel, out scouting on behalf of the herd. Their task was to secure the area and to locate any fawn that may have wandered too far into their woods. They were dead silent and focused, but equally naive and ill prepared. The elders had always reminded the younger individuals of the perils outside of the cave system, but sometimes only seeing was believing and the stark spots and rosettes of a jaguar provided too many Oakferns with scars and the most unfortunate of eye openers.

The two Fawnlings fled at the sight of the predator, lithe legs and their small-enough statures making quick work of the unforgiving swamplands. They were fortunate in that they had wandered the quagmire when they were younger and were familiar with certain trees that Nahuel would often mark; unfortunate, however, in that the stag had since then grown antlers, hooked and split two ways. In the midst of the chase, one of his prongs caught hold of a low-level branch, costing him valuable time as he struggled to free himself. It was not his efforts but Chantrea who freed him, and it was she who soon found herself tagged by the jaguar, tooth and claw.

"Run, Nahuel! Save yourself!" He remembered the wide-eyed look of fear that mangled her features. They were not as he knew them so well. He tried to save her.

Even now he remembered the sensation of the big cat's chest upon his foremost tine and the warmth of its blood running down his face. He lowered his head under the weight of it all and his body grew cold as the last of the recollection rolled off of him.

His name meant Jaguar.

Nahuel still found himself frequenting the swamplands outside of the underground labyrinth of caves that he continued to call home. His antlers had grown more formidable with each season and his body toned by two-years-time, dark skin stretched tight over muscles now hot from the hunt. On some nights, he would don warpaint, letting his pelt speak for itself and serve as a warning to big cats and the Fawnlings of the neighboring kingdoms. He wanted them to know fear, as he had. On such nights, he would surrender his name to Gealach and become what he hated most, all for Oakfern, the atonement of his sins, and her.

Name: Nahuel
Pronunciation: Nah-WELL
Meaning: Jaguar
Gender: Stag, male, ♂
Breed: Fawnling
Use: Western Isles
Height: 7.2hh
Eye Colour: Brown
Build: Medium
Age: 8 Years, born in the Year 749 of the New Age
Colour: Black
Genotype: EE/aa/nSty
Bloodline: Oakfern
Sister: Nascha
Best Friend: Chantrea †

Temperament:
- Patient to a point. Will not sit around if there is work to be done.
- Fiercely loyal to and protective of his herd, as most Oakferns are.
- Fairly solitary as an individual, however. Not at all selfish, but reserved.
- Cool and curt, passionate, but composed. Rarely speaks if not necessary.
- Strong, but humble. Willing to follow orders so long as he believes in them.
- Observant. Well aware of his surroundings, but chooses not to involve himself in politics.
- Strict, very self-critical. Holds himself to higher standards than others, finds it hard to forgive.

Notes:
- Of a simple bloodline. Not a son of a king nor soldier, but of a simple stag and doe. Both of his parents have died of natural causes and are rarely spoken of.
- Occasionally suffers from nightmares, but tends to keep them to himself. A good majority of them revolve around the death of his dear friend Chantrea for which he blames himself.
- Remains very fond of his younger sister Nascha who has a number of vision defects and is unable to leave the confines of the caves. Will often bring her gifts or otherwise useful items from the outside world.
- Has come to terms with the meaning of his name at this point in his life and will occasionally don warpaint in the likeness of a jaguar. There are many reasons for this, including a desire to instill fear in those who pose a threat to his people. May be thought of as eccentric by some, but allows himself to be seen this way.
- Bones are trophies, not actively sought, but retained. Has acquired a small collection of skulls, claws, and teeth and will sometimes wear such items on his antlers.
- Not above stealing away fawns from the three neighboring kingdoms, but does not derive pleasure from this. Does what he does for Oakfern, not for himself.
- Somewhat uncomfortable with does after the loss of Chantrea. Finds it difficult to interact with them.
- Well versed when it comes to herbs and poisons. Also capable of treating minor wounds and ailments. A lot of trial and error, learns from his own experiences and what has worked for or hurt him in the past.

Affiliation: Oakfern
Current Location: Oakfern

Fight Stats
Speed: 2 (max. 7)
Stamina: 2
Strength: 5
Experience: 3
Strength +1 (Medium)
Starter points: (3) +2 Exp. +1 Str.

Herb Lore Level: Medium [11]
Water Magic Level: Basic [0]

Future Plans
- Increase skills and grow as an individual.
- Open up to others, perhaps even overcome his aversion to does.
- Become an effective soldier or captain, if the position were offered to him.
- Come to understand the importance of water magic and learn from another individual.
- And whatever else may come our way, of course. Always open to interesting interaction.

Fawnlings © Ehetere
Nahuel © me, TheWyvernAndTheFox