For all intents and purposes, Roach is the quintessential embodiment of a wolf. Like others of his lineage, he is a lean creature built for endurance; a sleek hunter cloaked in shades of pale creams and warm shades of the earth with hints of ivory and ebony, and hazelnut hues scattered throughout his pelage, complete with agouti banding and a black-tipped tail. His coat, while appearing soft is more coarse than it seems, and he is remarkably average in height, courtesy of his parents. Unlike others of his lineage, rather than having a warmer, rich and golden eye color, his are more a citrine yellow; along the right side of his face, he sports a healed gouge from a bite.
A spinning compass guides him, ever equipped with what seems an insatiable wanderlust. He is an intelligent, observant being at his core, at times quick-witted and generally fun loving. Ever the optimist, he tends to look for the good in the world rather than be drug down by it though from previous hardships have lent him balance and compassion. He tries hard to do good by good and be an easy going sort, but his youth also tends to leave him a touch headstrong when it comes to where his morals and loyalties lie.
, he is the son of Mojave Ostrega
and Hecarim Ashmourn
. The youngest of his litter, he is also the brother to Maya
. More details on lineage can be found in the Extended Ostrega Family Tree
· (June 2019 — August 2020)
Born in a place known as the Splinterlands
, Roach was raised in the warm sands of a distant land. The youngest of three, he was primarily raised by his mother though his father was here and there in his life. His natal pack was largely composed of those who came and went of their own free will; often times some sought glory elsewhere while others merely wanted to gather life experience—the latter of which Roach eventually fell into. However idyllic his home was did not last for long, for a series of droughts and mounting tensions between other predators and distant, neighboring packs eventually led to dissolution, which promptly set the yearling out into the world. Fortune favored the majority of those who lived in the Splinterland and they endured, but were left shaken to the core. His father perished from wounds too grave to mend and his mother was never the same for it, nor he and his siblings in varying degrees. Though difficult to leave behind all he knew familiar, he set off to see what existed in the world, letting time heal him and clinging fiercely to a long, inexpiable deep-seated draw to what lied beyond the horizon time and time.