They called me.
Kohl

It's been.
15 years

I'm kissed.
Bull

My blood runs.
Red Deer

They shaped my soul.
A gentle giant. Enjoys story-telling more than anything else, and his sweet composure makes him perfect. He unfortunately doesn't have too much patience, but he can wait however long its needed. He's protective, and can get very aggressive when he wants to be. He enjoys violence, and often incorporates it in his teachings. He's intelligent and has keen senses. He doesn't like to tell stories of himself, and doesn't enjoy flattering himself with making others look up to him. He's a bit crazy, his mind has a couple loose screws, claiming he can 'recieve prophecies'. Many think of him as an old bat.

They painted and molded me.
He's coloured an pale strawberry colour, his neck and head a much darker maroon. His antlers spike out in 13 tines, making him a royal. His eyes are a dark brown and flash with intelligence. His body is bulky with muscle and his legs, though shorter than usual, are strong and carry him proudly. His haunches are covered in meat, and on his left one is a dark birthmark. He has many scars covering him from his own stories. The deepest one runs down his entire spine.

What has happened since.
Settle down now, children. I thought, tonight, I'd introduce another deer, another survivor, another ancestor. Would you like that? Yes? Good. Now hush.

His name was Kohl, and he was born many years ago, under the sky on the beaches by the sea. He grew up, him, his mother, and a few others. He ate sea grass with the otters, spoke with the seals, laughed with the fish, danced with the seagulls, and raced with the waves every night. When he was old enough to be on his own, he left the seaside, for his mother had drowned several moons before, and it made him sad to see it. He left to find another herd, and he did. This herd lived by a loch, a large lake, just like the one we have.

He lived there for years, his blood coursing strongly through the herd. He was a captain, helping guard the entire herd, near the top. He had earned his antlers, which, at ten, where looking quite healthy and intimidating. His life had gone well for the first decade. He shed his antlers, and they grew back on the day when he got a limp.

See, he was guarding the herd, when he noticed a specific fawn grazing far off. He went to tell it to go back to its mother, when a fox appeared from nowhere, and raced towards it. Kohl beat it to the fawn, and that day saved one of his children's life, though at first he didn't recognize it. He fought the fox off with tooth and hoof, because his antlers weren't strong just yet. This was a downfall, and soon the powerful fox had him in his jaws. He broke his leg trying to kick him off. Finally help came to him, but he would never be the same. It was knarled and broken. It healed wrong, and from then he couldn't protect the herd anymore.

He had always been good with stories. He had a way of taking the truth and stretching it to unbelievably irresistable points. So, he became a story-teller. For 5 years he sat beneath a tree and talked, the motor-mouth he was. He regained his respect, especially with the fawns, and as they grew up from his make-belief and his magic, he did not. He had been telling the story of a mythological creature that soared through the skies, when he had suddenly paused.

Fire, was his last word, and immediately he was up, stamping and bellowing. Minutes later, everything was in flames, including the tree he had sat beneath moments before. He ran through fire and trekked across valleys, always one step ahead of the blaze. He went solo, flying alone. He came upon this place by chance. He had been running one day to see a pathway leading through a very dense forest, and immediately charged down it, coming to the land known as The Haven.

A bit of me.
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