Homid: A little too thin, especially in the face, giving her a haunted look that makes one think of a skeleton. Furtive eyes dart around, never quite focusing on the world around her. She hides in loose clothing, layered and flowing, hair almost always unkempt and kept in a thick braid. Lupus: A sleek black wolf with extremely lean muscle. Not quite thin enough to show ribs, but her fur is tight around her face and neck, especially, giving a slightly skeletal look to the form.

I dream of Anubis. I can understand him when I dream, but his words are wind the moment I wake. I have always been sensitive to the dead. I knew Death as a child. Barely old enough to form memories, my first were of dark monsters invading the camp of my wandering tribe, gentle people living a traditional life. My mother hid me, bid me be as still as the grave lest the monsters find me too. I heard screams, horrible sounds, and then my mother hid with me.. though she could not hold me. She whispered all the things she would have said had the monsters not come. But they came, and so did Death. And I spent more time with the spirits left behind than the living. Once another tribe found the camp and the slain, they found me, catatonic, murmuring the secrets my mother whispered to me until she faded to the beyond. I grew up, quiet and wild, my foster family fine and kind, but they could not take the horror from my mind, nor the rage in my heart. I heard the dead, spoke with them, grew to carry the messages from the dead to the living... and vice versa when the need arose. Most avoided me, thinking I spoke to the voices in my mind, but they could not believe. Even those I helped rarely truely believed, and just sought the comfort. Those that could not hear the truth reviled me, and called me fraud. The living held no pain for me. Not... not until... The monsters came again. Except... the monsters were the common sort - men who sought to extort and harm my foster family. I bid my foster mother, my foster siblings hide. Be as quiet as the dead. I did not know why, but the dead warned me that the monsters were coming, and I could stop them. Monsters... monsters.... monsters....... When next I came to myself, I was covered in blood, tasted it in my mouth, and... pieces of people lay strewn around me. A man stood above me... no, not a man. A monster with kind eyes. I saw him become a man before my eyes, and the kindness became sadness. "The dead told me the men would come. I spoke the secrets they told me. I know no more." "I know little Death Talker, and now we must run. There are places to go and be safe, but now we must run." Drawn To Death took me in, taught me the ways, the speech, the control I would need for this new life. And we ran. The dead still talk to me. I have holes in my memory before the taste of blood in my mouth, but I know the rites to perform. Now my path leads me across the oceans, to the mountains. Drawn to Death told me of others that can guide and teach me more, and where I will not have to face the monsters alone.