silver's garden of dreams

A hunter in the shadows.

The great cat was larger than most, monstrously so for its kind; the peak of its shoulderblades reaching above the heads of orc and human alike. Its towering presence was hard to miss, wherever the behemoth creature found itself. Despite its exceptional size, the cat was silent as any of its brethren, stepping silently even amidst the foliage of a forest's floor, ocean-colored eyes watching warily any bold enough to approach.

Its pelt only lent to its cautious nature, dark as an evening storm and speckled densely as falling rain with a uneven, mottled pattern, camouflaging well with the many shadowy places the creature preferred to dwell. Strangely, should one approach closely enough, the cat's pelt was notable for being of a curious texture -- wavy like rolling clouds, tending to curl at the ends. Even the whiskers, and especially the whiskers...! They squiggled and frazzled every which way, coiling and bending, just begging to be touched. Indeed, the cat's entire pelt gave the impression of warmth with its thickness, and incredible softness... a creature of the cold north, undoubtedly.
Snow-white blazed across the back of the cat's large neck in an eye-catching mane, which was sometimes seen to be carefully braided at times, the braids lined with colorful glass beads when present. The cat's toes all looked to have also been "dipped" in the same white, as well as the tufts of their eartips and the tip of their long, thick tail.

Even the thick, soft pelt of the cat betrayed its underlying physique, strength rippling through its massive body with each movement. When sitting, the fur could be observed to "crease" in several places along the bellyside of the torso.... likely scars, bare but still well-protected by the sheer thickness of the silver cat's pelt closing around them. Tiny, lesser scars marred the velvet muzzle, only noticeable when quite close, but still telling of the harshness of its life.

And yet, for the intimdating size of the beast, and sheer brute force it seemed capable of inflicting, the cat was of a very reserved and quiet character. The fanged mouth spoke only rarely when not addressed first, the voice deep from such a huge animal, and accented in the speech of one borne into an elven mother tongue. For such a brute, the cat was polite and somewhat formal, if always a bit wary.
A greeting given would be returned in kind, with a polite nod and a name given thus...

Silver Ramirez, of World's Heart.