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Post by MudBug on Dec 5, 2010 14:42:33 GMT
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Post by MudBug on Dec 5, 2010 14:47:22 GMT
So tell me, little bird, all of the good things you have heard.
[/I][/font]  'Cause I need you, little bird, to sing me a sweet song.[/I][/font][/size][/center]
(THE SMALLER FEATURES);
Character name: Filatweet [Fee-la-tweet]
Age: 6 years
Gender: Female
Animal: Feline
Breed/s: Ocelot
Pack: Lexis
Link to website of your photo/s: Here it be.
(I THINK I NEED A THERAPIST);
Personality:
Filatweet is a simple girl. She's as sweet as can be, which isn't always good for her. She's often thought to be stupid, or twitty, at least. She does have her dull moments, but she's not dumb by any means. She likes to give people the benefit of the doubt, which also leads to her being dooped, rather easily by, no so honest, folk.
Her naivety has gotten her into rather troublesome situations, more than once. She doesn't practice lying herself, which sometimes makes her forget that some others lie with every breath they take. She is very soft of heart, and constitution. She doesn't like to see pain. Pain of others bothers her more than her own troubles. She likes to help anyone, anyway she can. She's even been known to help injured enemies.
This is mostly to her detriment when she needs to hunt. She hates hunting, as strongly as anything can be hated. She was the laughing stock of her family when she would always disappear when mother would take them hunting. While this seriously impaired her hunting skills, it taught her to be rather good at hiding.
Most would think she's a curious cat, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. "Curiosity already killed one cat. It's not getting me, too.", is what she likes to say, on the matter. Some would say this is wise, but it also leaves her hopelessly lacking in the bravery department. Fleet footed and fearless of mockery, she will run if she senses even the slightest twinge of danger.
She's not your usual loner. In fact, she's hardly a loner, at all. She'd be lost, if not for her constant companion, Twix. He's annoying, no good for protection, and rather useless, but she loves him like a big brother. Though, sometimes she feels like he doesn't care about her, as much as she cares about him. She needs him. She needs someone. She's a very clingy cat and she knows it, but the thought of being truly alone sounds like death, to her.
Three strengths: Sweet, Honest, Good at hiding.
Three weaknesses: Fearful, Over trusting, Poor hunter.
(LOOKIN' AT MY REFLECTION);
Height: 15 inches at shoulders.
Weight: 20lbs.
Appearance:
Filatweet is small, for her breed. She wasn't always a runt, but as she grew and pursued more serene activities, her size didn't quite keep up with her more rough and tumble siblings. Her coat is nothing special, it is actually rather lackluster. Overall, she is a rather plain Ocelot. This never really bothered her, while the other females of the family always seemed to obsess over appearances.
Her one, prize trait would be her eyes. She was born with eyes of the brightest golden color, none the likes of any other Ocelot eyes to have ever been seen. "Better than any lost treasure I've ever seen.", is what her companion Twix said, out of pure awe, when they first met. She didn't realize until later on, just what a complement that really was. She fights with her own vanity over her bright eyes, but can't deny that it gives her comfort knowing that at least one part of her is beautiful. Beautiful indeed.
(REMINISCING LIKE HELL);
History:
Filatweet has had an easy life. Born into a large family, full of skilled hunters, she was always the oddball, the flower child, the weakling. This never bothered her though. Who were they to judge her for not enjoying, the murder of other living things? Even if she did eat the meat, killing it herself was just that much worse. Being the outcast didn't bother her either. She would make friends with other critters, more often than not.
Until her father died. She had always been daddy's gentle little girl. After he passed, in a horrible hunting accident, it seemed as though her entire life flipped inside out. Her mother found a new mate, who seemed to despise everything about Filatweet. Nothing she did could please him. She hunted as well as she could, but the kill was never fast enough, never big enough, never brutal enough. Finally, one cold winter day, she could no longer stand it.
The family was preparing for a big hunt, all would have to go, but Filatweet would not be there. She slipped away among the bustle, and never looked back. Flying into the woods, hoping luck would find her. She had nobody, wanted anybody, but companionship was not to be found back home.
She wandered alone, chatting with whatever strangers crossed her path, but no-one ever wanted to stay with her. She would always be asked where she was headed, and each time made her wish more and more that she had an answer. She didn't mind living in the country, but not having a home did hurt.
Finally, she stumbled upon, a rather silly looking little canine. He seemed to be trying to get something in a tree. She offered to help, and dropped down an apple. You can imagine her surprise when he ignored the apple and instructed her to get that "beautiful" piece of..metal paper? She did as instructed, and brushed it from the leaves holding it out of his reach. Sure as the sun, the little guy's tail stood straight up and he even let out a little bounce of joy.
He said his name was Twix, and that he too was an outcast. Then went on to explain how amazing the "treasure" was that she had just fetched for him. They hit it off rather well and somewhere in all the chatter decided they should be loners together. This was about 2 years ago, and they are now inseparable. Filatweet can't imagine not having Twix to talk, or more often than not, listen to.
Major turning points in life: Leaving family, Meeting Twix.
(ALL ABOUT YOU, YOU, YOU);
Roleplaying Sample:
It was quiet this morning in the open countryside and all was well with the world, or this small piece of it at least. She walked the small edge of a forest and a valley. The forest to her right, the valley to her left. Filatweet enjoyed taking soft luxurious steps through the dewy grass, each morning. Dew fascinated her, like little diamonds left by the night for the early bird to delight in. Resting so softly on the grass tips. It did get her paws wet, but she didn't mind too much. It helped get some of the dirt off, so her paws wouldn't taste so gritty when she licked them, something that always irritated her.
She thought about what she needed to do this day.
"Twix is out hunting, and we know where that creek is for water. There's still been no signs of any predators nearby. The place we slept last night could do for a while. I guess I don't have anything to do. Finally, a day to truely relax, thank the heavens!"
A sweet smile broke across her face. She faught it for a moment but then decided that her happiness was in place and let out a quick little giggle.
"Oh!"
Her jubilee was rudely interrupted! A quick cry left her throat when she heard the most horrid growling sound coming from - her stomach. She felt like a kitten for letting it scare her like that. Then she was annoyed.
"Twix, where are you?!"
He'd been out hunting for well over 2 hours.
"Honestly, how hard could it be to catch a measly mouse or 2?"
He probably wasn't hunting at all, and she knew it.
"Off looking for more shiny bobbles, no doubt. Silly fox."
He'd let all the mice in world run free, if it meant one more "Lost treasure", as he called them, to add to his downright gaudy collection. They had recently stumbled upon what was left of an old human camp. They stayed for the better part of a day, while Twix browsed around for anything that, he thought, was worth having. She had though his treasure hunting itch had been scratched, or maybe it hadn't.
"I shouldn't be so hard on him, though."
Filatweet thought, feeling just slightly guilty.
"He's got to find happiness someway."
She heard a faint crack, come from the woods. Stopped in her tracks, right front paw still raised in mid step, she listened intently for anything to be heard. There was another..and another..and another! Whatever it was, it was awfully loud! The urge to run started to creep into her. She was seconds from sprinting, for all she was worth, when she heard a familiar tune, being whistled completely off-key.
"You've got to be kidding."
The whistling got closer and, sure of what she was hearing, she slowly stood back up..
"When did I crouch?"
..and trotted toward the tune.
"How can he hope to catch anything, while making all that racket?"
A few branches and a small puddle later, there was Twix, in all his food barring glory.
"It's about time, Twix! I'm starving here. I even got spooked by my own-. Where is the food?
He couldn't have done it again. But, as hard as she looked there wasn't a single morsel on him.
"Well that answers my first question!"
She was beyond annoyed now, purely angry. Not only would she now be hungry, and not get to relax, but she detested having to hunt. Everyone had always called her weak, a kitten, unable to survive in the world. She couldn't deny, it was a weakness, one she would have to conquer someday, but crushing the life out of even the smallest living thing, right before she had to eat it, no less, made her heart feel cold. Not to mention, she wasn't very good at it. She pulled herself out of her dark thoughts, best not to focus on how much she hated hunting, 'cause, no doubt now, she would have to. Besides, Twix was actually trying to justify himself.
"Now, don't get mad Tweety. I got the best reason for my obvious lack of breakfast."
He said in his, particularly annoying at the moment, high pitched voice.
"Oh, do you now, Twix-y?"
The last syllable fell off her tongue so dripping with sarcasm, you could see the drops glinting in the light. He had picked the wrong morning to be lazy.
"Yes! I do, in fact. I found the most beautiful-"
She cut him off right there.
"What! The most beautiful what, Twix?! It's always the same thing with you! I send you out with a simple task and all you can bring me back is the 'most beautiful' garbage!"
She tried her best to sound scary, but her sing-songy, soft voice kept her sounding hardly threatening and almost comical. Oh well, there would be no changing that. She did, however decide to let her anger run it's course. He deserved it, and perhaps venting now would keep her from wanting to kill him when she had to hunt later. He tried again.
"But, Filatweet this one-.
Cut off again.
"Is not food! I cannot eat whatever you have found, Twix! No matter how, amazingly, blindingly "light up my soul" dazzling it may be, It does me no good when my stomach is so empty it's nawing on itself!"
She was working up a whole 'nother bout of words for him, when he lifted his tail up and around to his left, to reveal the most beautiful peice of jewelry she had ever seen.
"Oh my."
She didn't want to look so plainly awestruck, but she had never been good at hiding her thoughts. And, of course, there was that ridiculously crooked, "I'm so proud of myself" grin of his.
"She's a beauty, isn't she?"
Said Twix, openly gloating about his precious, now.
"Yes. Yes she is. Where did you find it?"
She couldn't remember them passing anywhere that would have such a fancy lying about. It appeared to be one of those things she heard humans would wear hanging from their ears. What a novel idea, hanging pretty little things from your It sounded fun.
"But you'd have to put a hole. That must hurt and-."
Oh, Twix was talking again.
"I had finished hunting when I thought I saw something glistened through the trees. It was too high to be dew, so I went to have a quick look and there was a cabin!"
Her ears perked. Now, she was interested. A cabin meant so much more than shiny new toys. A warm and safe place to sleep, a place to..relieve themselves without the smell being in the wind for any animal, big or small to follow and find them. Perhaps, it even meant, dare she hope, food!
"Don't lose yourself, Tweet. It could be a few planks of wood, for all you know."
She realized he admitted to having lost an, already caught, breakfast. She felt bad that animals had essentially died without reason. It couldn't put out the hope in her heart, though.
"Ugh, why is he still talking?"
She scolded herself for being so impatient with him this morning, and listened.
"It was almost like new! There weren't even any old,..people left inside."
At this, they both shuddered, just a bit. They had found just one dead human during their travels, but it was enough to never want to see it again. Then she realized what else he had said.
"Like new?!" Her tail shot up and she couldn't keep her excitement from shining threw like a kitten who had just found the most perfect ball of yarn. This was sure to be all they needed and more! They could stop roaming the country for a few weeks, maybe months, maybe even a year! She had to see this place.
"Well, why are you just sitting here gabbing about it? Show me!"
Your name/nickname: MudBug / ..Mud?
Age: 17
How long you've been roleplaying for:
That bit up there is the first thing I've ever written. It was fun, though!
A few interesting facts about you:
I'm homeschooled, have been all my life. I don't like pie, bacon, or fresh baked cookies. <~ My mother believes I'm a communist for this. xD I could look at and name probably every AKC breed of dog there is.
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Post by MudBug on Dec 5, 2010 14:50:37 GMT
Someday, I'll be livin' in a big ol' city..
..and all you're ever gonna be is mean.
Why you gotta be so mean?
(THE SMALLER FEATURES);
Character name: Twix
Age: 7 years
Gender: Male
Animal: Canine
Breed/s: Fennec
Pack: Lexis
Link to website of your photo/s: Here ya go.
(I THINK I NEED A THERAPIST);
Personality:
Twix is not a complex boy. He's very immature, for his age. He never really grew up, and there's no signs he ever will. He's exceedingly adventurous. Since birth he would wander away from his mother, and often miss out on feeding time. But, as with most adventurers, he's a very fickle little fox. He'll be exploding with ambition for one thing and cursing it the next.
The only thing he's ever stuck with, in his life, is his quest to find the lost treasures of humans. Some would call this just a frivolous quest as any of his others, but he believes there are amazing discoveries to be made. He's a rather quirky little fox. Some would say he's not the brightest bulb in the box either, but this isn't true. In fact, Twix is rather intelligent, in a booksmarts kind of way.
The more accurate description would be that he's rather scatterbrained, easily distracted and doesn't really know when to takes things seriously, accept for his human treasures, of course. He's a little too brave for his own good. He's gotta himself hurt, many a time pushing the limits of his physical capability. He curses his small size quite often, wishing he could have been a larger canine like a wolf or even a regular fox.
He doesn't let his emotions shine through, often. But, deep down, he is a sweetheart. He has an especially soft spot for his companion, Filatweet. He wouldn't know what to do if any harm came to her. He fears that if she were ever in peril, his size would render him completely unable to do anything. He hates that helpless feeling, but it is all too familiar.
Though his mind can be rather easily distracted with dreams of grand adventures, Twix is a realist. He doesn't like those with their heads in the clouds, even if he does tend to fantasize things himself. His temper is quick and biting, and rather comical to behold. So much anger trying to burst out of a such a small creature most often debilitates his foes with fits of uncontrollable laughter.
Nothing ruffles his fur like being mocked. The quickest way to get Twix latched onto your face, like a bear trap, clawing and nawing at whatever he can, is to make fun of his size. He's knows he's small. He doesn't think he needs others harassing him about it and won't tolerate such mockery. You could say he's a rather egotistical little fox, but then maybe it's just that all his buttons are pressed, too often.
Altogether, Twix is rather fun to be around. He's a kind heart, with lots of ambition and thirst for life. And, there's never a dull moment, with him.
Three strengths: Sweet, Brave, Realist.
Three weaknesses: Small, Short tempered, Doesn't know when to be serious.
(LOOKIN' AT MY REFLECTION);
Height: 9 inches
Weight: 1lb
Appearance:
Twix is a very gangly Fennec. However, much to the surprise of most, he's not clumsy. Many adventures requiring nimble leaps from point A to B, honed his control of his cumbersome limbs. Unfortunately, he hasn't yet learned how to apply this skill to hunting. The ancient art of a stealth still eludes him. His ears are rather petite, for a Fennec. He's been the butt of many a joke, among other Fennecs, for his inadequate ears. But, this never bothered him, as he always found the more common satellite dishes atop his fellow's heads, quite ridiculous looking.
He isn't very muscular. But, at the same time this helps keep him lightweight which is good for leaping around various places hunting for human relics.
His most noble feature would be his eyes. Black as pitch, they always seem to catch the light in the most fascinating ways. Letting it roll along and play with the reflections in, what would appear to be, black pearls.
His coat is much more saturated than most Fennecs. Having spent most of his time playing in the woods, out of the suns strong beams, his fur wasn't bleached nearly as much as his fellow's. His claws have grown into practical talons. He likes to keep them rather long, to aid in climbing and digging. Also, to inflict maximum damage when he rarely does have to defend himself.
He's not a particularly handsome fellow, but he's not repulsive either. He doesn't think about his looks very often, or much at all.
(REMINISCING LIKE HELL);
History:
Twix had always been the oddball of the family, who never seemed to grow up. Rather small, even for a Fennec, and always interested in more frivolous activities. He tried his best to fit in, but nobody would accept the silly little fox. Always hopping from one "adventure" to the next, with absolutely no sense of responsibility. If his "free spirit" hadn't made him the apple of his mother's eye, no doubt he would have exiled.
His most recent adventure led him to a discovery so grand, he couldn't have imagine it. He found, what he thought, was the most amazing thing he had ever seen! A small pair of old timey pilots goggles shined, like two silver suns. He hurried it back home, for all to back in it, and his, glory. Much to his horrid surprise, the reception was anything but a hero's welcome. Scorned for having wasted precious daylight on, yet another, silly plight of his own. He was distraught.
He took his treasure and ran as fast as he could. He ran until dusk was upon the sky and every kind of pink and purple hues colored the heavens. He rested that night under the exposed branches, of a half fallen oak tree. He was a loner now. A truth he didn't want to face, but after disappearing, his family would simply exile him, if he tried to return. His poor mother, she would be heartbroken. Oh well, he was nearly an adult and had to face the world someday. Better not have to do it with those wretches judging every step he took.
The next day was equally as troublesome. His poor hunting skills were the bane of his existence. He was close to giving up and simply heading home, to face the wrath of his father, when he met an old silver fox. A, very old, silver fox, in fact. This fox seemed rather mysterious, but friendly enough. He offered to catch a small meal for Twix and, of course Twix accepted. He would have to owe him later, but right now he just needed food.
After a small lunch together, Twix thought perhaps the old fox would want to see his treasure. He fetched the goggles and eagerly trotted back to the wise old one to see what he thought of it. Perhaps it was just that his family was too close minded and ignorant to comprehend it's beauty. The old fox didn't seem amazed, but he didn't disregard it as trash either.
He told Twix of a lost species. "Humans", he called them. They used to be the most powerful species on earth, and controlled every inch of it. They could fly and swim and even reach the stars. But, a great plague had stricken their kind down and not a single one survived. But still, great buildings, monuments and artifacts told the history of their people. Many animals, who are still alive today, lived among them and tell stories of life with them and understand some of their amazing inventions.
Twix had never heard of humans. So, needless to say, it was like a small child who had been told they'd discovered a dinosaur bone. Twix was so intrigued, he thought his mind would burst with curiosity. He was seconds away from bombarding the poor fox with every question imaginable, but he caught himself and figured that old silver had told him everything he knew.
But, these animals that had lived among them, he had to find one! Having lived with a lost people, what a thought! Right then, Twix knew, he had found the adventure he was meant to have! He would find every human treasure in the world and, one day, he would find one of their abandoned cities and explore every inch of it!
He thanked the old fox and went on his way. So determined, in his new found quest! And, as sure as the sunrise, Twix never stopped moving. Of course, discoveries were few and far between, out in the forest, but every now and again he would find something and it would embolden him anew! He didn't have to search alone for long, before meeting a certain, soft hearted feline by the name of Filatweet.
Her story, wasn't very different from his, but she was far from amazed by his collection of relics. Even so, they hit it off well and neither one of them wanted to be alone. They soon grew to be the closest of friends. She is like the younger sister he never had, even though she is easily four times his size. They've been together for 2 years and he can't imagine going on his adventure without her.
Major turning points in life: Running away from home, Finding goggles and learning of humans, Meeting Filatweet.
(ALL ABOUT YOU, YOU, YOU);
Roleplaying Sample: [at least 200 words & only needs to be filled out on first character - can be from another website]
Your name/nickname:
Age: [optional]
How long you've been roleplaying for:
A few interesting facts about you:
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Post by MudBug on Dec 18, 2010 22:37:57 GMT
(THE SMALLER FEATURES);
Character name: Montgomery
Age: 3 years
Gender: Male
Animal: Canine
Breed/s: Belgian Tervuren x German Shepherd
Pack: Tempest(born into)
Link to website of your photo/s: ^Linked up there^
(I THINK I NEED A THERAPIST);
Personality:
The first words that would come to mind when thinking about Montgomery would be, vane, egomaniac, and butt kisser, among others. No, he doesn't have many charming qualities.
Vanity; His vanity is not so much unjustified, as it is flamboyant. He seems more proud of the fact that he knows he's handsome, than his actual appearance. At first, this boggles most, but they quickly stop caring why he's so impressed with his looks and are just annoyed.
Egomaniac; This isn't unlike his vanity, more just a different breed of it. 99.9% of the time, he is right. The problem is, he darnwell knows it. Montegomery is a very logical dog. He doesn't support the war between canines and felines, not so much because he wants peace, but because he believes that the war is bound to do more harm than good for both sides, and is irrational from either stand point.
Butt kisser; Yes, he is a butt kisser, pure and simple. But, not in an obvious way, as he still has his monstrous pride to keep to. He will sneakily follow your example, or do things you didn't know that he knew you wanted done, but still make sure knowledge that it was his doing reaches you, loud and clear.
Snarky; Yes, believe it or not, this quiet intellect of a dog is rather quick with his tongue. He has an amusing knack for insulting you, in the friendliest sounding way. Often you won't even know that he thinks you're a complete incompetent..but he does.
Smooth talker; Not in the cheesy way, but he knows how to get your line of thinking to line up with his. He's a very good salesman, whether the pitch is for a product, plan, or idea. He'll have you quoting him, before you even realize you agree on something, since he can convince you in a way that sounds like the idea was your own.
Intelligent; Unfortunately, he has a horrible way of showing it, but Montgomery is incredibly gifted in the gray areas. Though street smarts aren't his forte(he's much to blunt for that), he is rather good with most anything involving facts or critical thinking.
Knows when to pick fights; He may be blunt, snarky, and outright rude to most, but he's not stupid. He knows, full well, when the odds are on his side. Honor isn't a big thing for him, so fighting for principle is an alien term.
Honest; You wouldn't expect it, but Montgomery is not a liar. He thinks that it always leads to more trouble and confusion and the simplest thing is to keep your nose out of trouble, and you won't have anything to lie about.
Three strengths: Honest, Intelligent, Smooth Talker
Three weaknesses: Egomaniac, Vanity, Kissup
(LOOKIN' AT MY REFLECTION);
Height: 27"
Weight: lbs.
Appearance:
It is plain to see the Tervuren in this boy, in fact it's hard to believe there is anything else. Like a Terv, he has tall pricked ears, with heavy feathering, a long abundant coat, and quite alot of excess fur on his cheeks. Although, if you know what to look for, you can see the traces of German Shepherd in him. His coat is predominantly tan(was/is dark as a pup), with mostly black on his face and end of his tail.
His eyes, though not blue, are a gorgeous silvery gray color, you could say very desaturated blue. Very striking, as their not commonly see on dogs of any sort. His gait is that of a German Shepherd, though not as exaggerated. His rump is only slightly lowered than that of any other Tervuren, but just enough to offer him a quite surprising amount of speed when he needs to run.
He rarely smiles, but when he does it is a rather charming sight. He's most prone to a sly crooked grin, which more often annoys than it does charm. His tail has all the fluff and fur of a Terv, but has a very distinct curve at the tip, like that of a German Shepherd.
(REMINISCING LIKE HELL);
History: Not applicable
Major turning points in life: We'll see, now won't we?
(ALL ABOUT YOU, YOU, YOU);
Roleplaying Sample: [at least 200 words & only needs to be filled out on first character - can be from another website]
Your name/nickname:
Age: [optional]
How long you've been roleplaying for:
A few interesting facts about you:
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Post by MudBug on Dec 19, 2010 1:53:35 GMT
 (THE SMALLER FEATURES);
Character name: Braker
Age: 7
Gender: Male
Animal: Canine
Breed/s: Saint Bernard
Pack: Tempest
Link to website of your photo/s: Link to photo
(I THINK I NEED A THERAPIST);
Personality:
At first glance, you would like to assume that Braker is a gentle, loving, teddy bear. You couldn't be more wrong. Braker's heart is as cold as a blade, with a mind just as sharp. He plays to win, at all costs. He will deceive you, manipulate you, lie to you, and enjoy your cries of pain as he crushes the life out of you. Braker goes beyond feral. He's simply evil.
Aside from his obvious detesting of felines, Braker would just as soon destroy the frail body of a small dog. He detested humans, even before their demise, and when their reign came to an end he let out a terrifying howl, in celebration. He despises what they did to canines, thinking they should never have been made derivative from their wolf ancestors. With his great size to keep him feeling atleast remotely connected to his wolf brethren, he believes small dogs shouldn't even deserve to be called canines. Most of them more useless than many felines he has known, and killed.
Though, he accepts that his prejudice is not a common one, and it is his own personal struggle to control it. All the tiny dogs of the city should thank the stars, for if Braker were leader of anything, they would soon see a bloody end.
He's incredibly cunning, and is a very good judge of character. He'll know you better than you know yourself halfway through your first conversation. He thinks small dogs are a blight on the earth, useful for nothing but service, and hardly even that. He detests humans, for what they did to his species. He often refers to himself as a wolf in a dog's body, which is most often true. He believes that humans stripped dogs of their dignity. Turning them into showpieces, or home decorations for their own idiotic amusement.
While he is a skilled leader and often invents elaborate plans to reach his own goals, he is prone to rash decisions. His temper is short, so when his ability to keep it fails, mistakes often occur. Of course, he would take a blow to the head before admitting he would ever flaw his own plans. When Braker makes a mistake, often someone else is blamed, who later disappears in the night. That's how he does business.
Speaking of business, with all of his intelligence, that is one finesse that escapes him. He can be almost easily swindled out of more than most. He never put much value in things of a monetary sort, thinking power and obedience of others were the true values of this life.
Three strengths: Ruthless, Good judge of character, An actor.
Three weaknesses: Not good with business, Randomly loses control of temper, Not agile.
(LOOKIN' AT MY REFLECTION);
Height: 32"(shoulders)
Weight: 264lbs.
Appearance:
Braker is nothing special, looks wise. He's much like any other Saint Bernard you've ever seen. He's actually quite large, even for a Saint. He has the usual characteristics, like baggy eyes, flewy muzzle, and quite a bit of fluff, though he he hates it. Coat wise, he's rather picturesque. He has a full mask on his face and full mantle mahogany coat on his back. One of the prettiest Saint's you'd ever see. He often uses this to his advantage when seeking fleeting female companionship.
His size grants him obvious prowess in brute force fighting, but an opponent with considerable speed could easily play with him like a toy. Climbing eludes him completely. Even for a large breed, he isn't very old, but he often feels as though his physical prime never arrived.
(REMINISCING LIKE HELL);
History:
For Braker, memory lane is a dark, dark road. He was born unto the wealthiest and most elite of Saint Bernard kennels. His father was an international champion and golden sire, while his mother's achievements were nothing to sneeze at either. He was raised, trained, groomed and postured to be the best in the world, but it's what's on the inside that counts, and Braker's evil soul shone through far too much.
He would bark, growl, bite, and often completely attack any who came near. Humans didn't understand it, and his canine family didn't try to. His father was always much too preoccupied with impregnating every female he could find, while his mother would spend her days chasing his father. Of course, all the humans thought they were hearts of gold, but Braker knew the truth about them, and himself.
Finally, all the champion bloodlines in the world couldn't keep him out of trouble with the humans, and he overheard discussion of 'what to do with him'. All he needed to hear were the words 'put' and 'sleep' and his mind was decided. In the darkest hour of night, he crept away from that smothering place. He didn't need humans, or grotesque amounts of grooming and showing, or even all those extravagant dogs that he left behind.
Major turning points in life: Born into elite family, ignored by parents, ran away to live on the streets.
(ALL ABOUT YOU, YOU, YOU);
Roleplaying Sample: [at least 200 words & only needs to be filled out on first character - can be from another website]
Your name/nickname:
Age: [optional]
How long you've been roleplaying for:
A few interesting facts about you:
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Post by MudBug on Dec 30, 2010 1:50:46 GMT
(THE SMALLER FEATURES);
Character name: Tony
Age: 6
Gender: Male
Animal: Feline
Breed/s: Toyger
Pack: Lexis
Link to website of your photo/s: Here ya go.
(I THINK I NEED A THERAPIST);
Personality:
Tony is a pretty cliche personality, but he wouldn't change a thing about himself. Outgoing, friendly, and quite the talker, it's no wonder he gets himself in quite alot of trouble.
You'd be surprised, but despite his rather striking looks, Tony is anything but full of himself. He often just shrugs and smiles awkwardly when he's complimented, since he doesn't see what they mean, himself.
However, this doesn't mean he's shy, far from it. Tony loves to make friends, friends with anyone! He'll strike up conversation with a rock, if you leave them alone long enough.
But, being a chatty cathy doesn't have it's disadvantages. It's not rare for just about everyone in the area to tell Tony to simply shut-up! He'll usually listen and keep it down after that, but it doesn't phase him, unless someone's particularly mean about it.
Most often he catches flack when he lets his screwball antics get in the way of others' plans. Tony is a goofball, just out for a goodtime, and his idea of a goodtime may just be your idea of all hell braking loose!
His, seemingly, endless supply of energy certainly doesn't help, when you want to calm him down. Tony has been known to go days without sleep, and climbing through the trees while he's at it. This actually comes in quite handy when you can hunt day and night. But, be warned, his body may still be going strong, but his mind gets a little fried on day two or three without a wink.
Even as few and far between as they are, Tony does have his delicate moments. It's rather entertaining to see him take a shot at being sensitive. His version of helpful is, list the problems. This often means riddling off, though in a nice way, everything wrong with someone, or what they're doing. Of course, he never understand why he's got the other animals about ready to kill him.
Of course, Tony could never harm a fly. He may be the most peaceful soul you ever meet. It's not so much that he think everyone in the world should think the same and never have so much as a spat, but Tony sees death for what it truly is, pure pain and destruction, in which there is no winner.
Three strengths: Outgoing, Energetic, Humble
Three weaknesses: Goofball, Pushes buttons, Chatterbox
(LOOKIN' AT MY REFLECTION);
Height: 7" at the shoulders
Weight: 12 lbs.
Appearance:
Tony is a rather lovely looking cat. Most don't know what to think of him, since he looks so much like a very shrunken tiger. With a lovely golden base coat and strikes of the deepest copper they almost look black. His nose is very broad at the tip, which many think looks rather funny, but it adds to his overall wildcat appearance.
His very long legs grant him quite alot of skill at common feline activities. Great speed and climbing skills, but sometimes he just doesn't know what to do with them at times.
His tail is long and skinny, with a blent tip. He has very small paws, which surprise most. His eyes are very round, for a feline. Their color is a rich brown, rimmed in an almost golden color. His ears are more rounded at the tops than the usual cat.
His body is long and lean, with a straight back, and a long neck that puts his head just slightly above his shoulders.
(REMINISCING LIKE HELL);
History:
Toyger doesn't recall much of his own past. Not because of any incidents or conditions, but he considers it so very uneventful that he doesn't really push his mind to recall it.
He was born to a premier breeder of cats of his kind. He was raised as the best, by the best, to be the best, but his heart just never seemed to be in it. With so much emphases on furthering his breed, it seemed that cats like him, that were just the beginning of the breed, were treating more like stepping stones than actual pets to be cherished, atleast by his own masters.
Him and the rest of the breeding stock were kept in a nice, but often lonely kennel outside of his breeder's home. It wasn't an abusive containment area, but it often drove Tony to more than he could handle, being trapped in a confined space of any sort. Thankfully, the owner's young daughter always had a soft spot for the cats kept outdoors and when she realized all hope was lost for mankind's survival, as a last act of kindness, she left every last cage open.
When Tony woke that morning, to find all of him and his companions set free, he knew just who had done it, and sought her out. There she laid, as if she was sleeping, but Tony could smell the death on her. He licked her face softly, and goodbye kiss, before leaving that place, without a single look back. That was a very sobering moment for Tony. He vowed to himself to live his life to the fullest, and not let death rule it.
Major turning points in life: Growing up in confinement, Seeing his breeder's young daughter dead, Deciding to live like peaceful, avoiding death.
(ALL ABOUT YOU, YOU, YOU);
Roleplaying Sample: [at least 200 words & only needs to be filled out on first character - can be from another website]
Your name/nickname:
Age: [optional]
How long you've been roleplaying for:
A few interesting facts about you:
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Post by MudBug on Jan 7, 2011 14:53:52 GMT
 Kriket------7 years • male • cat • peterbald • iris------+ PERSONALITY |Cricket's personallity is one of a very simple nature. He lives, breathes, sleeps, even dreams to serve. Particularly whatever frightening soul has come to go by the name of "your Muchness", for Kriket. That is his own , rather ridiculous, term that he applies to the key creature he follows. Many find it annoying, but old habits die hard, or not at all in Kriket's case.
It's hard to find an endearing quality in Kriket, he more just has useful ones. He's incredibly patient. He's scared of his own shadow. No, really, he gets frightened by the shadow of his own form on a regular basis. He has the strangest, and most utterly grating, tendency to seemingly echo the words, orders, and opinions of "your Muchness". This puzzles all that encounter him, until they stop wondering why he is so strange, and it simply annoys.
Though he seems to gravitate towards the cruelest of characters, Kriket himself is not a particularly cold soul. Though not the warmest of felines, violence, sadism, and things of that nature are better left to someone else to carry out. On the flip side, scenarios where any sort of love or affection come into play, or that stir his awkward emotions, Kriket seemingly does not know how to act. He'll become clammy, awkward, and dodgy, to the point that he may flee the situation alltogether.
Kriket is not one to be on his own. Being alone, or rather having nobody to follow causes him an immeasurable amount of distress. He has no goals in life, he never had any and likely never will. His only purpose, in his own mind, and the minds of others, is to serve those in power over him, which is seemingly everyone.
If you come across him, regardless of rank, size, species, you will be in charge of the relationship. This puzzles many, as he acts as though he is beneath them, when they themselves have set no such precedent. This is also due to the fact that it's hard to believe he even has a mind of his own. When caught in the debate, where his opinion has not been given to him, he acts like a confused bumble bee that can't find it's hive.
• likes | "your Muchness", pleasing others
• dislikes | emotional situations, violence
• goals | to serve
• fears | loneliness, his own shadow
• strengths | patient, loyal, obedient
• weaknesses | annoys others, strange tendencies, inability to think for himself
• mental disorders | no actual disorders
+ APPEARANCE | Kriket is an almost grotesque looking feline, but creepy would be a better word. With not a single strand of fur on any part of his body, and fleshy pink skin exposed you'd think he was a killed that had been partially dressed down. Small spindly veins can be seen a faint blue crawling across his form. With piercing silver, spherical eyes, and a long, whip like tail, he could, ironicly, appear rather frightening in the dark, to a creature of similar size.
His form is rather bizzare, which is only accentuated by his bare skin. His back rises to a towering arch, toward the middle of his form. His legs are long and held wide apart, when he is standing. With a sloping skull, and widely set apart ears, his head almost resembles that of a rat. A very ironic description, to anyone who knows him at all. Tall, for his breed, but gaunt and lanky, it's as if he is trapped in a permanent state of awkward adolescence.
• height | 12" at the top of his head
• weight | 2lbs.
• fur colour | hairless
• eye colour | silver
• scars | none
• noticeable features | eyes, tail, skin
• physical disorders | none
+ HISTORY | Kriket's story is a rather sad tale. I say sad, meaning pathetic. It's almost a show of bravery that this cat has not strangled himself with his own tail, but endured such a meager existence.
Kriket was born to an abusive, Russian breeder of felines, who's only interest was in making a name for himself. His plans of dominating the competition with the newest breed on the scene, was not going as well as he hoped. As he lived alone, he could take out his anger and frustration on no other than his helpless pets. He thought his luck had turned around when Kriket had been born, and blossomed into quite the specimen.
However, through the years of berating and abusive treatment, and hours of grueling training, it had broken Kriket's spirit to the point that being shown was all but impossible. Though Kriket wanted nothing but to please his master, being seen in public, and prodded, and openly judged by others, embarrassed him so thoroughly that he would breakdown, begin to shake, and sometimes lose control of his own bowls.
It was the worst the first time. Before that fateful day, Kriket did not know of anything but baldness. Some of the other cats in the breeder's pen had some fur, but very little. The abundant coats that he witnessed at the shows made him feel naked down to the core of his soul.
It was sad day, as he failed miserably in every one of the show rings. It all ended with him curled up in the corner of his cage that night, bruised after a harsh manhandling by master. But it was his fault, he had messed up, he made "his Muchness" angry, he deserved it.
This was a neverending cycle for years, until one day, at the usual time, his Muchness never came to take them away for feeding and training. Kriket was to be studded out that day, to quite a few of the females, an idea he did not like the sound of. He did wish to love someday, but that kind of heartless breeding made his stomach turn.
The felines were not kept far from the bedroom of the house, and it was not long before the sickening smell of death reached the noses of all those kept outside. All of the other felines rejoiced, outright, at the death of their abusive owner. They dug holes, deeper and deeper, until finally they all were sprung free from the chainlink prison they had known all their lives. It was weeks before Kriket dared to leave the only broken home he had ever known. After all, his Muchness could come back, and oh how angry he would be, but Kriket would please him, he would stay.
The days drug on and Kriket's body began to put up a debate for freedom that he could no longer ignore. Hunger, thirst, and the unbearable smell that wafted from the house bedroom were more than Kriket's frail self could handle. So, in the dead of night, he snuck out, silent as death, and crept away from his past, and into the future he did not want.
He did not plan to be gone long, but it had been so hard to find food. He was away from his cage for weeks, and just as he was about to turn back, he realized that if his Muchness had returned, he would be furious! Fearing for his very life, Kriket fled as far from his old life as possible. It brought him to a very busy shipping dock where the rat population promised he would never go hungry, and of course water was easy to come by.
One fateful day, in the midst of a hunt, Kriket did not realize he had been led onto a ship that was bounded for the Americas, and it was too late to get off. It was too long that he spent on that ship, watching the crewmen slowly be stricken with the same illness, and be felled to death by it. Finally, with just enough crew to keep it afloat the boat made shore. Landing the large ship would be the last act of the loyal crew's lives, an act Kriket was thankful for, as he slowly took his first steps on the soil of his new home.
Alas, he found himself at home in the city of Hexasol. He did now know this place, or the war that was destined to wage on, between canines and felines, but all he knew was that he was alone, and he did not like to be alone.
• season born | winter
• place of birth | Russia
• family | Other Peterbalds, presumably still in Russia
• memorable events | Abusive owner, first time in a show ring, owners death, accidentally being shipped to Hexasol
+ SAMPLE | Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words.
• link to image of character | Pic link
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Post by MudBug on Jan 12, 2011 2:42:58 GMT
 Isac------3 • male • canine • lab+akita • tempest------+ PERSONALITY |Isac is not like other Tempest dogs. In fact, he's not much like a Tempest dog at all. He's sweet, kind, loving, shy, and caring. The only qualities he shares with most of Tempest is loyalty, and being born canine. Isac was born into Tempest, and despite not enjoying any of the fighting, and deep down wishing everyone could just get along, Tempest is his family, and he loves them deeply and would never betray them.
Isac is not quite a scientist, but he enjoys learning and making things work. Hence his profession as a healer. Which also lets him partake in battles, without having to hurt anyone. It's hard to say whether or not Isac is a capable fighter. His build looks like that of a fairly formidable foe, but his skills are nonexistent. Always avoiding rough play and training, to go play in the herb bushes, it's no wonder the art of battle eludes Isac, of course, this doesn't bother him. But, only time will tell just how long he can carry on without bleeding, nor shedding blood.
Isac is terribly shy, and a worry wort to boot. Ironically, even as shy as he is, he feels more comfortable around females, than males. Around other males, he gets an overwhelming feeling of silent judgment, because of his soft heart and herbal pursuits. He's not sure why, but he's always thought that females understood him better. But, these are Tempest females, so that may nto be as true as he believes. Crowds do not bother Isac, as they are easy to get lost in, but close quarters with few other creatures means he is bound to catch attention, and this puts him on edge.
A mate is not a real concern of Isac's, it just does not cross his mind often. But, if he were to meet the right bitch, undoubtedly his legs would give way, being the emotional dog he is. Isac is not a dumb dog, he's just nice. Many mistake his kindness for a young pup's lack of learning, but he does not think that any amount of time will change who he is. The softest place in his heart is reserved for pups, and kits, but that secret is locked deeply away. Even as young as he is, he has an overwhelming urge to care for, and nurture young. They remind him of himself, in a way, with their helplessness.
Isac does not fear much. He does not like violence, but he does not fear it. He fears growing a cold heart, becoming calculating, callus, and as ruthless as so many of his packmates. This may be his deepest fear, but more evident is his fear of being found out. As he goes around the battlefield, healing the wounded, it is not rare for him to help a feline warrior, who is near death. He does not help them all, he cannot help them all. But he cannot stand to watch as a life drifts away, right before his eyes.
Even though he does not share the typical Tempest hatred for everything feline, Isac is not sure how to conduct himself around them. This may be out of the fact that they're two completely different species, or the constant fear that he will be accused of treachery and killed by his own family. Regardless, if they are not in need of desperate help, Isac with often do whatever he can to avoid contact with a cat, of any kind.
• likes | herbs, pups
• dislikes | violence, small groups
• goals | fatherhood
• fears | growing cold, being caught helping a feline
• strengths | healing, caring, loyal
• weaknesses | compassion for hurt felines, shy, poor fighter
• mental disorders | none
+ APPEARANCE |Isac is as muttly as they come. Neither of his parents were purebred, so what breeds really are in his blood is anyone's guess. His father's coat showed the clear markings of brindle, while his mother had a distinctive tail and lean form, with small patches of white adorning her chest and back paws, which are all reminiscent of a labrador.
His eyes are a lovely chocolate brown, encircled by a dark black ring. He has small paws, oddly small actually. His dainty paws mean he's prone to odd little trips and stumbles, and running is risky. His ears are set high, just on top of his head, with a prefect little fold in the middle of their length. His tail i fluffy, and is usually held in a curl when he walks, but lowers almost straight when he's standing still. His brindle coat is a rich chocolatey brown, and deep black. The brindle covers his entire pelt, save a small strip on his chest, and his toes on his back paws look to have been dipped in white.
• height | 22in at shoulders
• weight | 75lbs
• fur colour | brindle - brown & black
• eye colour | chocolate
• scars | none
• noticeable features | tail with a curl, small paws, high set but floppy ears
• physical disorders | none
+ HISTORY |
Isac was born Tempest, he has known no other life. Despite all of this, he still maintains his soft personality, and has not forged the same burning hatred for felines of other Tempest dogs. His parents were deeply in love, but his father was Tempest, while his mother was a loner. Of course, his mother harbored the indifferent ideas toward felines, while his father hated them tenfold. Despite this, they kept their secret passion burning for years. It was not until Isac, and his single brother, were around 4 months of age, that the unthinkable happened.
When she was found pregnant, his mother had agreed to join tempest, but begrudgingly. Thankfully, her and Isac's father were not particularly noticed in the pack and having such a small litter helped this. His mother was not adapting well to the cold, harsh ways of Tempest life, but she did not have much choice. His father would not leave his pack, and she could not leave his father. Finally, something broke her. She could not stand it any longer, and made a horrible scene for all of Tempest to see. She cursed them, and their prejudiced ways, and stormed off of the territory, or at least she tried.
Several enraged Tempests charged at the bitch, feeling punishment was in order. Isac's father leaped between his packmates and his mate, and a most horrid fight ensued. His father, died. Slain by his own packmates, for treason, and bringing a traitor into their midst, his mother. Isac's mother blamed herself, and promptly threw her body off of the highest point of Tooth Cliff. Her pups, were left to fend for themselves. Thankfully, it seemed that they were absorbed by the rest of the pack. Their parents crimes were not cast onto themselves, and they were raised as any other Tempest pups would be. This caused a tear in Isac's views. He could not bring himself to hate the felines, but the Tempest pack was the only family he had ever known. Isac's brother grew to be the epitome of a Tempest dog, with a bloodlust for felines like no other, and a skill at fighting that was hard to see matched. Isac, however, could not forget his mother's bravery in declaring her different, peaceful views, and felt that ultimately it was the prejudice of the two species, canines and felines, that had led to his orphaning.
• season born | spring
• place of birth | tempest
• family | deceased mother & father, brother
• memorable events | mother trying to leave tempest/declaring her lack of hate for felines, father dying to save mother, mother's suicide
+ SAMPLE | Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words.
• link to image of character | Link
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Post by MudBug on Jan 30, 2011 0:12:09 GMT
 Simpatia ------6yrs • female • canine • scottish • tempest------+ PERSONALITY |Mature, is the first word that comes to mind when you try to describe Simpatia. Simpatia, despite her young age, is very much an adult. She knows exactly how to control herself under pressure. Her ability to keep an even tone, when others would be screaming their lungs out, or having an emotional breakdown, is sometimes so potent it's creepy. She has a very practiced way of handling problems. Calm down. Realize the problem. Find solution. Act on solution. This isn't to say she doesn't have emotions, she is also a very passionate young dog, but she has a level of self control that even some animals far her senior have yet to achieve. It takes particular situations, or rather particular emotions, for Simpatia to loose her cool, or let it slip. Anger is the easiest for her, it's not hard to keep from showing your anger, or controlling. This helps her have a devastatingly calculated way of fighting, despite her size. She fights with her mind, thinking of the implications of every move, only taking the most effective. Sadness is a bit more difficult, as only things that cause her very, very deep pain even touch on sadness. This is because anger is her default reaction to most situations, as it's easiest. So, as you may have guessed, pain, like loss or worry, hit her the hardest. It's not a pretty sight when she's shook loose. Bawling her eyes out isn't the reaction you get, or atleast not the only one.
With all that said, she sounds like something of a wet blanket. In all honesty, she sort of is. She doesn't get excited over trivial things, and not much but irony can get a good laugh out of her. However, she is known to warm up quite a bit when she's with those she cares about. Speaking of caring, Simpatia is a very, caring dog. She likes to help others, in a bunch of ways. Through nursing them back to health, or helping them reshape a destructive personality. Her subtlety in awkward situations is almost like a social grace. Not to see she's a soothe sayer, but she has a way of getting you to say what you need to hear yourself, instead of hearing it from her. She doesn't like to admit it, but she has quite a soft spot for pups. They're the only thing that has ever seemed to bring her true lighthearted joy. Besides singing. Yes, as odd as it is, she is a songbird. When she howls, it's as if an angel is weeping. From high tones to deep moaning tones, it's a marvelous sound. She does not think of herself as some amazing starlet, it is just that her soul is barred naked when she sings, which is why it is a rare treat. Despite not being a bucketful of laughs, ego is not a problem of Simpatia's. She knows just what she is, flaws and all, and has no problem admitting it, or understanding when others point it out.
Simpatia's distaste for cats is very linked to her past, it's fueled by her fear of being replaced, or rather fear of one sided relationships. She's aware of it, but she doesn't like to make it obvious. Alot of the way she conducts herself socially is fueled by a chronic independence that she feels she simply needs to survive. The idea of following after someone only to have them make it painfully obvious that they could care less about her, is something she will. not. have. happen. It humiliates her more than anything, but on a deeper level than most embarrassment. It makes her feel naive, and helpless, two things she is not. Of course, this type of impenetrable wall to keep herself from getting hurt, is not a fool proof plan. She has a hard time letting anyone in, or letting anyone else let her in. It's not that she's antisocial, but she thinks that "buddies" is the safest relationship. She knows she'll have to face this sooner or later, but has accepted that she'll either cross, or burn, that bridge when she comes to it.
• likes | puppies, helping others, singing
• dislikes | being led on, emotional reactions
• goals | family, never being led on again
• fears | being led on,
• strengths | keeping her cool, humble, can help people solve their own problems, calculative fighter
• weaknesses | too distant with others, not much fun, soft spot for pups
• mental disorders | none
+ APPEARANCE |It's not something she dwells on, or even likes really, but Simpatia is rather beautiful. Her beauty is not the modern kind, but more of an honest beauty. Simple, but striking in it's own right. Her looks do not begin to be noticed until they are backlit by her personality. Her fur is as white as the driven snow, with cream colored areas around her paws and mouth. This is not the norm, as technically she should be "wheaten" colored all over. Her eyes are wide, round, and a lovely chocolate brown. Her nose is a soft pink. Her ears are her most endearing feature, in a cute sort of way. They never seem to be able to stay in tune with each other, instead they take turns standing up and flopping lazily in half. Despite her breed, there is not much that is "cute" about Simpatia. But to anyone who spent even the slightest amount of time with her, it's not a key descriptor. Her build is very basic for a scottie. Short legs, long wide muzzle, thick lush coat, though it never gets full length. Her body is just as stocky as any other scottish terrier, and of course quite funny to watch move along to the ground.
• height | 8.5"
• weight | 18lb
• fur colour | white
• eye colour | brown
• scars | none
• noticeable features | eyes, funny ears, white coat
• physical disorders | none
+ HISTORY | Simpatia's history was nothing special. Her life was pretty average, aside from how it shaped her personallity personally. She was adopted as a pup by a lovely Italian family. She was much softer then, eager to love everyone and easy to get attached. Then, she learned the hard way. She thought her owners were deeply attached to her, like they wouldn't trade her for the world, well they were wrong. A french handler, and breeder of the "most spectacular" persian cats came to town, and for God only knows what reason, took quite a shine to Simpatia. Little did the poor bastard know he'd be dead in a years time, but he had plans for Simpatia. He was not mean man, or manipulative, he simply offered Simpatia's owners a trade. One of his finest felines, for Simpatia. She was young, and he saw quite the show dog and breeding stock, given her brilliantly white coat. Of course, Simpatia did not like this idea, this was her family. The force of her world imploding when her owners greedily took the exchange was enough to shake something in Simpatia, something that stayed where it landed after it was wrenched from where it had sat. She loved these people, she cared about these people, she thought they loved and cared about her, they didn't. They did not beat her, or treat her wrongly, but to give her away so quickly, so easily, was like a hot knife piercing her back. She felt it sink in slowly, burning with pain, as she was passed to the hands of the French breeder.
It was a few months, before the wound was healed, and the hard scar was formed. She built her walls, subtly. The gate was there, but it would not be easily opened. She made a decision, however bitter of a decision it was, to not let that happen again. She must protect herself, for the sake of her own sanity. She could not let herself become any more jaded than she already was. She went on like nothing had really changed, until everything changed. The breeder died, just died. Just like that, dead. As if Simpatia needed another reason to be afraid to form attachments. Though the darkness of it didn't escape her, but almost felt happy that she had not let herself really care for the man. Of course, all of the snooty cats were happy to make a break. Simpatia did not know, nor really care, where she was headed. All she knew, was that she didn't want to stay in France. She soon realized, not all of the humans were gone. There were quite a few left, and she heard of this same place again and again. Hexasol. It obviously wasn't in Italy, but since all of the humans were fleeing to the largest water vessels imaginable, she deducted it wasn't in France either. He snuck aboard the first ship that the opportunity arose, and hunkered down. Arriving in Hexasol was nothing special, but it was disheartening to learn it was in a place very different from her beloved Italy. It was not long before all if the humans were gone, and Simpatia watched, saddened, as the war between canines and felines escalated. Thinking of her own experience with the persian cats of her french home, and hearing of the heinous acts of Iris pride, Simpatia's choice was not difficult.
• season born | spring
• place of birth | italy
• family | none
• memorable events | loving italian family, being traded for a cat, stowing away to hexasol
+ SAMPLE | Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words.
• link to image of character | lookit
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Post by MudBug on Jan 31, 2011 6:55:46 GMT
 Mary-Kate ------4yrs • female • canine • afghan hound • tempest------+ PERSONALITY |Mary-Kate, in all honesty, is a self centered brat with a serious vanity problem. That's just the icing on the cake. Of course, she is very beautiful, problem is she knows it. She believes that her looks is all she needs. She's very bossy, in the most obnoxious way possible. Not in the way of a leader, or even just a controlling a-hole, but in the way of a toddler that will throw an everloving fit if they don't get their way. Of course, it doesn't work on many, especially since she usually tries it on Tempest dogs. This, of course, results in a fit and a day or two of pouting. She may be a baby, but she's not an idiot. There are times when she uses her beauty in the cruelest ways. Though, of course, if makes other females want to murder her, she possesses an undeniable charm. Not a completely sweet or innocent charm, but a charm that is just flirtatious enough, without becoming downright trampy.
She hates puppies. Of course, this is completely fueled by her selfish lazyness. Puppies are, after all, so much work and horrible on a bitch's body. She likes to spend her days lounging, grooming herself, and using others. She's a horrible user. If you have something she wants, she'll make you fall in love with her, until you have no more to offer. Of course, she's made many enemies this way, but she loves herself more than anyone so why should she care? Like herself, she loves to travel. She gets bored easily, so staying in one place too long drives her nuts. She sort of settled down in Tempest, only because traveling alone was just too much trouble. Of course, she loves to go on and on about her travels, being the drama queen she is. She can escalate any situation far beyond it's true severity, simply be reacting as if it's the end of the world.
• likes | herself, traveling
• dislikes | puppies, work
• goals | traveling
• fears | work, not being gorgeous
• strengths | charm, looks, bossy
• weaknesses | whiny, lazy, user, vain, drama queen
• mental disorders | none
+ APPEARANCE |Of course, she is beautiful. The annoying, contrived, hot blond that all the girls want murder, type beautiful. Long golden hair, like silk, covers every inch of her form. Honey brown eyes, almost too bright to be called brown. Her tail is like a whip, long and skinny, that loosely curls to the sky. Her form is tall, long, and lean, like any perfect female form is. Her ears may be the only trait of herself that she is not completely happy with, though she wouldn't dare call them ugly. They're long and floppy, hugging her face. Her snout is set high, almost even with her eyes, and gracefully shaped. Small paws are almost invisible beneath the long hair that covers them. Her coat is tinged a darker blonde in certain areas, like the tips of her ears, and her ankles.
• height | 25"
• weight | 58lbs
• fur colour | golden blonde
• eye colour | honey brown
• scars | none
• noticeable features | hair, eyes, snout
• physical disorders | none
+ HISTORY | MK's history is pretty lackluster. Being born just a year after the humans died out, she takes pride in believing she'll likely be the last purbred of her breed, seeing as how amazingly uncommon and gorgeous they are, in her eyes. She spent a great deal of time traveling, basically being anywhere possible for a very short amount of time. She did an essential donut around Hexasol, purposely. She heard stories of the war that raged, and of course that sounded like way too much baggage for her. She didn't like war, danger, or responsibility, so all the packs and prides and drama didn't appeal to her, even though drama is her forte. She spent a great deal of time near a certain waterfall that she simply fell in love with. She likes bodies of water, she likes the way her fur moves when it's submerged. So, of course, she also spent alot of time on beaches. Finally, after a few hard nights during winter, she decided that maybe pack life would be easier. She could use them for whatever they had, and she might even have someone to talk to. So, she made her way into Hexasol, and was just plain too snooty for the kitties, so Tempest got to be honored with her presence.
• season born | spring
• place of birth | outskirts of hexasol
• family | none
• memorable events | convincing herself being purebred was special, staying in places with water, a harsh winter, coming to hexasol and joining tempest
+ SAMPLE | Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words.
• link to image of character | clickeh
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Post by MudBug on Feb 21, 2011 0:10:46 GMT
 Kairen ------7 • male • feline • siamese mix • loner------+ PERSONALITY |Kairen's personality is that of a classic street raised outcast. Being raised on the streets of downtown Hong Kong, and never quite accepted because of his mixed blood, he grew callous and jaded. He's quite a cynic, when it comes to hope, and he has extreme trust issues. He does not put anything past anybody. He's driven many who truly cared about him away, accusing or believing that they would ever do horrible things to him that they didn't even think of. Quite insulting, as you can imagine. He can't help it, he's simply trying to survive.
Many would call him "intense", which he is, but not in the usual sense. He does not brood about his troubles, he usually tries to ignore them, hoping they'll go away. This isn't to say he has his head in the clouds, but would rather focus on other things, like sharpening whatever skill he's focused on at the time. He's reluctantly patient. Like he'll stand and wait but with a glower on his face, and a tapping foot. Having to wait is not something he enjoys, even if he has trained himself to bare it.
Usually he's very quiet, choosing his word wisely. He only chooses to say very pertinent things. This can be an obvious conclusion, solemn words of wisdom or, even more rarely, a snarky comment. Kairen's sense of humor is hardly what you would call intact. He finds very little amusing, even less funny, and most things plainly annoying. Not many get on well with Kairen, most get tired of his rather dreary attitude. He's not the most lively cat, that's for certain.
While he is very versed in the ways of Kung-Fu, he does not buy into most of the spiritual jargon that is always tacked onto it. He doesn't meditate, but simply makes time for calm and silence. Of course, even hours of serene time alone cannot completely tame his temper. Though it's rare, he is quite a thing to behold when his anger takes control. He's not wise, not in the classic way, more like street smart, or just a realist. He has quite a knack for seeing straight to who people are, or what their true intentions might be. Kairen likes to keep things simple. This is a major influence on his fighting style, which is not completely classic Kung-Fu. He believes in taking the best pieces of everything, and combining them to counter their flaws. He doesn't like the overly complicated and form heavy ways of Kung-Fu, or how it does not teach you much to do when you do, honestly, need to seriously injure the enemy. This is why he mixes in street fighting styles with his Kung-Fu, to amp up his speed, and the impact of his blows.
Kairen is skeptical of, well, everything. Friends, family, love, you name it. You could say this is simply an offshoot of his trust issues, which I suppose it is, but not quite the same breed. He tends to believe things are too good to be true, so he jinxes himself, in a way. Not putting in the effort to make good things work or happen, because he just doesn't have faith in anything good happening to him. His past experiences have carved quite a lack of respect for authority in Kairen. He doesn't really give a darn what titles, ranks, or connections you hold. This has gotten him in trouble more than once, but he's learn to convince himself that, in these cases, he must be right, and those snobs just need to get over themselves. From this, has stemmed an odd form of snobbery in Kairen himself. He's, what some would call, an inverted snob. He looks down on purebreds, of any kind, with a disdainful look. Assuming they must be closed minded, selfish, self centered, etc., simply because their parents were the same breed.
• likes | quiet, honesty, realism
• dislikes | humor, overcomplication, others with ulterior motives, authority, pious people, purebreds
• goals | To live his life in peace, perhaps with one companion
• fears | loneliness-though he doesn't know it yet
• strengths | calm, good fighter, realistic, a bit of an ego
• weaknesses | cynical, distrusting, dull, issues with authority
• mental disorders | none
+ APPEARANCE |Kairen's appearence is unique, but not spectacular. Nobody is for sure what else is in his blood, besides siamese. His most trait that is most like his biological father, would have to be his maw. Short and stumpy, it portrays his crossed past. His skull is also much rounder than that of a pure siamese. His eyes, however, are a lovely almond shape, and sky blue color. His coat is the trademark blend of beige and gray of a siamese, with darker brown stripes on his face and the tips of his ears. The bridge of his nose is the lightest brown on his entire pelt. His form is not as lean as most siamese, but still lean and muscular, with a long tail void of fluff, and with yet another spot of dark brown at it's tip.
• height | 15" at the shoulders
• weight | 12lb.
• fur colour | beige/gray
• eye colour | pale blue
• scars | none
• noticeable features | eyes, maw
• physical disorders | none
+ HISTORY | Kairen was born, well, a bastard. His mother, and her mate, were both pure siamese, from the finest lineages. The only problem with this match made in heaven? Kairen's mother strayed. When Kairen was born, it was obvious by his appearance that his mother's mate, and his father, were two completely different cats. Kairen's father was abhorred at the very thought of this, and the sight of Kairen did not help. Worried for his honor, he cast Kairen away as soon as the kit could walk, giving him good reason to never look back. His mother, being the clearly selfish feline she was, did not care to join him. She had pleaded with her mate to atleast give Kairen a home, but when he refused, the thought of life on the streets was too much for the pampered shecat, and she watched Kairen walk off alone with tears in her eyes.
Kairen, for the most part, raised himself just as any stray kitten. Only, with one very prominent difference. While the other mix strays were mostly ignored by the snobby purebred juveniles of the city streets, Kairen was not. Rumors of how he came to be circulated him for his entire life, in his home land. It was made obviously true by the clear traces of siamese in his appearance. The bullying, the names, the insults of his mother, the list of torment goes on and on. It hurt him at first, of course, very much. So much that one day he realized that he simply had to stop hurting or he would break, a satisfaction he did not want to give them. After that, slowly but surely, he taught himself to simply not care. His emotions no longer mattered, and all that he needed to care for was his very life. Of course, it was not hard to learn how to defend yourself on the streets of Hong Kong. His style morphed into something unlike most, doing away with the frivolous "forms" and "lifestyle" of Kung-Fu, and taking from it only the efficient ability to swiftly apply pain.
He did a good job at it too, quite good until, like all heroes of the stories, he met a girl. She was beautiful, a purebred, of course, 'twas just Kairen's luck. It was a fairytale, in more ways than slaying dragons and kisses in the moonlight. There were, however, a few differences from your average love drama. Their relationship was in no way a secret. They were flogged with negativity, but neither cared. Even lovelier, her family didn't mind. They were not a poor family, but not very powerful either. Her parents were rather oblivious to their daughter's romances. Where did the problem crop up? His father, the root of all of his troubles in life it seemed. His father grew worried that their relationship would bring out the truth of Kairen's lineage, that his mate had been unfaithful. For this reason, he had to get Kairen as far away as possible, and be rid of the problem once and for all.
In his anger, and haste, Kairen's father took a basic approach to getting him on the first ship out of China. He threatened him, physically. No, he did not threaten Kairen's girl, though Kairen would hardly have put it past him. For this very reason, Kairen accepted his cruel fate without question. He assumed, without doubt in his true love, that when he asked she would gladly come with him. Being wrong had never hurt so badly. She did not want to leave her family, or her home. She was more in love with absentee parents, and a city, than she was with Kairen. At the end of the conversation his face went cold, emotionless, like an unreadable stone. It was then and there that he decided to never care for anyone again, because they never cared for him. He went aboard the ship like a zombie, not a care in the world, and not in the usually nice sense of the phrase.
The ship did not bring him to Hexasol, but to another city quite a ways away. He was a nomad for years. Never wanting to settle down anywhere. Finally, once he had found his way to Hexasol, not even traveling could hold his interest. This place was big enough, open enough, surely he could find a place to be alone here. When the humans drifted away, Kairen's only concern was that they would no longer provide food from the trash. He heard of the war as it began, and as it raged, but it seemed redundant to Kairen. Both sides struck him as far too impressed with their own kind, a simple happenstance of birth, which, of course, turned him off immediately.
Now, he lives with a small group of other cats with his same skills, keeping to their own side in the grand scheme of things.
• season born | winter
• place of birth | Hong Kong
• family | mother and father, and step-father, both in China
• memorable events | Step father casting him out, being treated badly for being a mix, true love choosing others over him
+ SAMPLE | Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words.
• link to image of character | here
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Post by MudBug on Apr 2, 2011 23:49:21 GMT
 ANASTASIA ------3yrs • female • dog • australian shepherd • tempest------+ PERSONALITY |
Anastasia, she doesn't mind to go by Annie, is, unfortunately exactly what one would first assume a young aussie would be like. Her activity level is through the roof, and it's hard not to notice. She's not a spazz, she can sit still and focus on something, but only if that something is what she considers fun. It usually takes her much longer to get tired of something she enjoys than others. the phrase "too much of a good thing" doesn't really hold water with Anastasia. She doesn't understand the meaning of the word no, or rather, impossible. If you tell her she can't have something, she takes that to mean that she simply hasn't made a good enough case for it yet, or needs to change something to make the answer be a yes. She is stubborn, very stubborn. It's nearly impossible for Annie to let anything go. If she thinks there is even a sliver of a possibility for her to make it work at all, she won't give up.
Annie isn't the best judge of character. She tends to see people very two dimensionally, either in a good way, or bad. Her first impressions are formed almost as soon as she lays eyes on you, and her opinion is hard to change. For this reason she can be either very overtrusting, or incredibly suspicious. It really depends on how the light happens to hit you when you approach her. Yeah, she's that simple. On the flipside, if you change her mind about her original idea of you, then she will forget altogether that what she thought at first probably has a grain of truth to it. So, if you first cross her mind as a complete liar, but show to be trustworthy just enough to change her mind, her idea of you will leap to the other extreme and think you're all but incapable of deceiving her, which is no better than the first. This means that Annie is regularly surprised by what others do/how they react, when she thought she 'knew them so well'.
Anastasia may not be the most perceptive one of them all, but she's not just your everyday dumb. Her age is her main disadvantage, considering the lack of life experience that goes with it.
the one thing she does have experience with, is adventure. Annie has always been a spontaneous, and adventurous dog, as I'm sure you can imagine. This was even more prevalent when she was younger. The over abundance of random and wild jaunts hasn't taught her much, but it has made her a bit wary. She still has a serious lack of foresight, which means she usually doesn't see the sharks in the water until she's got one foot in the tide, but once she spots the danger, she doesn't take the risk. About 20% chance of all hell breaking loose, is as far as Annie is willing to push most situations.
All this still hasn't hurt Annie's ability to have a rip roarin' good time. Think of it as someone who absolutely loves roller coasters, because it feels dangerous as hell, but they know the harness will keep them in the seat. Craziness without consequence is the definition of fun, for Annie, and there's no end to what she can dream up to be fun. The best kind of crazy without consequence, is pranks. Annie is a prankster, much to the chagrin of her victims. She doesn't stop to think if they will find it as hilarious as herself, but no harm, no foul, and no holds barred.
Anything that can give Annie a laugh is worth her time. The girl lives to laugh, giggle, chuckle, or even just grin. Emotional situations are a drag, and anything but anger just resonates as senseless drama to her. It may, or may not, be a weakness, but she can't see the logic in anything other than happy. For this reason, Annie is pretty adaptable. Her iron willed focus on happiness, gives her that much more strength to simply push her troubles aside. Unfortunately, this can make rifts when people think she should be feeling sad, or distressed, or anything other than 'Ths is depressing, let's move on.' Of course, most would just call this bottling up your emotions, but Annie thinks she may have just cast her cares away completely. They may, or may not, come back in full force, if discovered and drug to the surface.
Despite her misplaced sense of caution, Anastasia still hasn't developed much of a respect for authority. Well, that's a misconception. Anastasia respects authority, what she fails to adhere to is the usual pretenses when interacting with persons of power. She's not gross, or completely lacking in manners, but there's a line Annie draws where you cross into butt kissery, or just plain over complication of interactions. Given this overt 'I ain't raising my pinky' attitude, Annie's caution doesn't extend far into conversation, or when is a good time to spring something on someone. This, no doubt, also has to do with lack of foresight, but you'll probably have a hard time getting her to see the connection. Quite often, Annie will 'put it straight' to someone above her, or even equal with her, when that just isn't a smart idea. Of course, she only does this when she's most sure she's correct, but that doesn't matter once her bluntness has thoroughly put off whoever she thrusted the facts upon. She's also known to ask something of someone at the most inopportune time, not seeing just how not in the mood the one she's asking might be.
• likes | pranks, lighthearted adventure
• dislikes | serious risks, consequences, manners
• goals | to pack her life full of hilarious memories
• fears | serious emotional situations
• strengths | gets over things quickly, fun loving, perpetual good mood
• weaknesses | not good with emotions, a bit of an airhead, lack of foresight, overly straightforward
• mental disorders | none
+ APPEARANCE |
Anastasia, though she doesn't dwell on it, in fact, she's rather oblivious to it, is quite a dramatic beauty. It may be hard to see through the constant dirt on her pelt, and her piercing eyes made be closed with laughter half of the time, but in the right moments, she can take even another female's breath away.
Her coat is merle, but the pattern is almost completely without the usual ticking. More like large patches of the darkest midnight blue, mingled with a silvery white. Her coat is soft, lush, and flowing with strong fur. Her ears are simply hand sized pieces of dark fur resting on either side of her face.
Her eyes, shine, quite literally, like two small suns nested in their sockets. They burn the brightest orange, and pierce the souls of all that might look into them.
Anastasia is large for a female of her breed, but not giant. Just large enough for notice to be taken.
• height | 21"
• weight | 52lbs
• fur colour | dark blue merle
• eye colour | Strangely enough, orange
• scars | none
• noticeable features | Her eyes
• physical disorders | none
+ HISTORY |
Anastasia's history, so far, is just what she'd like it to be, save one small experience.
She was about a year old, things were just starting to get exciting. Freedom had juts been handed to her on a silver platter, and Annie couldn't take advantage quickly, or fiercely enough. She quickly shot through the ranks of popularity, and those few that didn't seem to follow her around, waiting for excitement to happen, she didn't even notice. She'd come up with her grand master plan one day, the prank of the year. Set to executed on none other than April Fool's day. Her brother, a pup almost nothing like herself, was scheduled to be standing at their father's side, one something of a ramshackle stage, as their father gave a speech to quite a number of canines.
You see, Anastasia was in a family of locally powerful canines. A small 'pack' of sorts-or more like a large canine family-, had formed itself in the forests on the outskirts of Hexasol. These were simple dogs, used to a simple life, who wanted anything, other than the extreme conditions that they heard of in the war torn City. Alas, Anastasia and her brother, strangely the only two to have survived the birth of their mother's litter of seven, were something like the Prince and Princess of this little 'pack'. Their father was incredibly respected, and not without reason. It was expected of her brother, though he perished at the idea, to take the place of second in command, and ultimately lead, when their father passed on.
Today was something of a coronation for her brother. He was to give a speech on a certain matter he had been appointed to oversee. Of course, being the rebel child, completely without responsibility, this was nothing but the absolute perfect time for a prank of epic proportions, for Anastasia. Her plan was simple, in it's nature. Humiliate her brother. The style, she thought, was quite classic. Her and a select few friends, her most trusted, had plotted to dump a bucket full of tar on her brother, and follow that up with none other than chicken feathers. It was genius in it's simplicity, or atleast Anastasia thought so. A couple of buckets on the high branch of a tree, with a designated 'release' set to be pulled at precisely the right moment. All of the previous steps had been taken. Chicken's had been chased and plucked, a particularly fun task, and a tar pit had been visited for the pitch adhesive, not so fun a task.
Her brother was in place, stepping up warily to give his take on what he was to speak about. Anastasia, of course, had not even the faintest clue what that topic was. She watched with her bright, strangely colored eyes, and flicked her tail in strange circular way, to signal the release! It seemed like the tar would never finish falling, but finally, it was done. Anastasia was laughing before it had even hit her brother, and she was certain she would sufficate as she watched him flail about in a puff of white feathers. To her bewilderment, all she could do was stand in the shadows, and stare in horror.
The tar, the first thing to make contact with her brother's pelt, and absorb through to his skin, was burning him. Burning him fiercely. Anastasia did not understand why, or how, or what to even do. She watched in complete, feeling complete helplessness and, a strange new feeling to her, bone achingly ashamed. The tar, that she was sure she'd left to cool, and even touched this morning, has simply stored it's heat toward the bottom of the bucket. It hadn't occurred to Anastasia to stir it and check for heat anywhere but the surface. So now, by the work of her very own paws, her brother writhed around on the stage in searing agony, covered in feathers, only to be humiliated in his time of pain.
The commotion was quick, working into a boil of reactions that took hours to simmer down. Somewhere in all his rolling and thrashing, her brother had broken his foreleg. The least of his problems, considering that he had suffered severe burns in numerous places, now doomed to be a hideous freak, splotched with baldness all over his body. The feathers had been burned to his skin, and peeling them away was a painful process. It was all too much for Anastasia. Far too much. She had to think, had to focus on what wasn't absolutely horrible and completely her own doing. His leg. His leg would heal, it would be fine-aside from the burns-and that wasn't completely her fault. Well, perhaps it was, but it didn't she didn't seem so directly to blame as she was for the burns.
Time seemed to move in slow motion after that. It had not taken long for everyone to find out that she was to blame, but her family attempted to keep it something of a secret. They did not want their daughter to be shunned. Of course, she did not see it this way, because she, as usual, did not see the entire picture. As luck would have it, it had everything to do with the topic of her brother's undelivered speech. There had been rumors, and questionable proof, of another, much smaller, gang of dogs that had taken to attacking the 'packs' stock of chickens. Those chickens were their primary source of food, so this was quite the issue. For the young dog heading up the investigation into the matter to be seen running around on stage covered in chicken feathers, was seen as mockery by many. Anastasia's family were doing her and themselves a kindness by keeping the spotlight away from her pranking ways. The funny part? Nobody seemed to know that the troublesome chicken hunters, were none other than Annie and her friends on their quest for loose feathers.
Of course, that was something only the chickens knew, so it was of no use to anybody. Time went on, and the secret couldn't be kept much longer. It was found out that Annie had pulled the prank, and it was seen as mockery, whether that was her intention or not, which it truly wasn't. Her family's name quickly fell out of favor, and as his health began to wain, her father was simply replaced. Her brother, bless his soul, couldn't handle Annie's ridiculous refusal to take any sort of responsibility for her actions, or his disfigurement, or their family's fallen name. In truth, he didn't even care if she was wracked with guilt, he simply wanted her to appear to care. She didn't, she couldn't, she just walked around all smiles, jokes, and quick wittery, as if nothing in the world was wrong. Her brother didn't much care if it was her personal way to cope, and Anastasia still isn't sure she blames him. It was nothing showy, but one morning she showed up for the morning meal, and the entire 'pack' turned their back to her in a clear gesture, her family included.
Anastasia set on her ways, now nearly two years old, and spent the first few months rebuilding her walls. She had alot to handle now. Her brother's appearance, what appeared to be her father's early strained health, her own shunning, and now... loneliness. Yes, Anastasia was incredibly lonely. She had never known loneliness, not in any sense of the word, and she had no idea how much it hurt. She would have traded anything for companionship, any kind of companionship. She would have traded her freedom, her beliefs, her soul, her own free will... and that's just what she did. Out of shear desperation, and so beside herself with loneliness that she couldn't think clearly, Anastasia joined Tempest as soon as she could smell dogs.
To this day, she doesn't know much of what Tempest is about. Annie has completely rebuilt her emotional walls, left without a trace of her shameful past. She spends her days doing mundane things, somehow managing to be completely oblivious to anything outside of her small little world, like say, a war with a savage pride of felines. She hunts, gathers fruits and veges, plays with and cares for the pups of the pack, and goes on her easy little adventures when she gets the chance. Pranking..pranking happens, but she doesn't get the same rush. she won't admit why, she hopes to forget someday, but the joy of a prank is now marked with a bitter scar.
• season born | spring
• place of birth | countryside
• family | estranged brother, father, mother all shunned her
• memorable events | prank on her brother gone wrong, being shunned, leaving her 'pack'
+ SAMPLE | Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words.
• link to image of character | link
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Post by MudBug on Apr 11, 2011 21:05:31 GMT
 PAURA------4 years • female • feline • amur leopard • lexis------+ PERSONALITY |In reality, Paura's personality is a mystery. She does not like her true nature, and so covers it in a carefully crafted facade. On the outside, the way she wishes she could really be, is sweet, gentle, and lighthearted, what everyone wants to be. Not that she wishes to be a spineless jellyfish, but she fears that if she were to let even the slightest bit of her true grit show through, it may take over. She does a fairly good job at this, trying to convince others, and herself, that she does not have a much darker side. But, with that said, it is not a simple case of split personalities. There is no clear line between the two parts of herself. They both seem to intertwine in the most puzzling ways, showing their forms in different ways at different times. This equals out to a very unpredictable feline, to say the least. Her darker side, is not the usual sense of the idea. She's not a closet serial killer, or secretly plotting to take over the world, or do anything of consequence really. But, deep down, though she hates to admit it, there is a much colder Paura, pushing to get out. A calculating, spiteful, overbearing, selfish, and incredibly emotional soul. She was born with this monster in her heart, and it has been her lifelong battle to disarm it. But, so long as it lives in her, she's always afraid of it rearing it's ugly head. Afraid, fear, it is a constant part of Paura. Fear of so many things. Fear of losing the battle with herself, fear of that self hurting others, fearing of her hurting herself. It's a miracle one so afraid of their very own heart is capable of carrying out a life, but that is all part of the fight. She knows, infallibly, that if she were to crawl off into her own heart, she would not surface as the same cat. So, she chooses to ignore it. It is her logic that years of simply acting the opposite of her darker side, will help to purge it. Almost like ridding yourself of a craving for something that causes you harm.
Her lighter side is nothing complex, she likes it that way. A simple personality is much easier to cast on herself. Of course, this leads to her more troubling side to show through when things get complicated, but she's growing, ever so slowly, to control it. She's not a goofball, or particularly silly. She does have a sense of humor, though she's not prone to loud bouts of laughter. A small giggle or chuckle is the most you can usually get out of her, though she is quick to smile. She likes to avoid problems, drama, the like. It's hard to keep up a happy go lucky persona when you build this world around yourself that is bound to fall apart. For this very reason, she does not let many other in. She knows that the best parts of herself she can manage are all cast on the outside, so why would she want to let anyone inside the dark cold cellar that holds her monster? When things do get hard, she goes for a swim. Many find it strange, and she doesn't argue with them, but she loves water. She loves how it flows around her, over her, washing her coat clean of dirt and filth. She likes how weightless she feels when she's submerged up to her neck. Often times, when it's a nice day and she has nothing else to do, she'll find a river with a soft current and just let it carry her along. She compares it to being carried away in a strong pair of arms. She's not sure why she feels so safe in the water, but it's one of few things that bring her the purest joy, so she dare not jinx it with her cynical introspection.
Paura is a very proud cat, she just doesn't know it. Her pride does not show in a cocky, arrogant, or "I am always right" sort of way, but it's very subtle. It affects her decisions, and way of looking at things, when she often doesn't realize it. This, you could say, is a way of her feared self poking through. She's selfish, though she tries to fight it. She often does not see it herself, but can see it if others point it out. Of course, seeing a problem, and fixing it are two completely different things. Generally she's shy, but not completely because she wants to be. Just one more branch stemming from the tree of fear she's gotten herself stuck in. Once you get to know her, if you can manage to get close to her, she will bloom quite nicely. You will most definitely see her worse sides, but the good side might also be richer aswell, if you can find a way to help her build it.
• likes | swimming, being the best side of herself, keeping things simple
• dislikes | complicated situatios, drama, showing meanness, being alone
• goals | just to be nice, kind, and not let her mother's raising get to her
• fears | that her darker side will take over, and she'll turn into a cold witch of a cat
• strengths | not a drama junkie, pretty large, kind to others
• weaknesses | always fighting with herself, a tad codependent, can't let others in
• mental disorders | none
+ APPEARANCE |Paura looks much like any other Amur Leopard. Her coat is a golden orange, with black rosette spots covering most of her body. Her coat fades slowly to a pale cream toward her belly and end of her tail, and at the end is a pure white, contrasting starkly with the large black rosettes that take space on her tail. Hey eyes are a light honey brown, with deep black pupils.
The main thing to be noticed about Paura is her size. She's rather large for a female of her breed, and not just her long tail.
Her tail is, as most people would notice, very long. The black rosettes at the end of her tail are much larger than those on her back. The spots on her belly are smaller than anywhere else on her coat. It's neat to look at how the size of her spots changes depending on where they are.
• height | 28" at the shoulders
• weight | 95lbs
• fur colour | golden yellow, white on her belly/end of her tail, black rosettes
• eye colour | light honey brown
• scars | none
• noticeable features | eyes
• physical disorders | none
+ HISTORY | Paura's history holds the key to knowing her, inside and out. Of course, as far as she's concerned, that key was thrown away long ago. Paura's mother was so much like herself, but not the self that Paura wants to be. Her mother was every ounce of herself that she fights to be rid of. She cared nothing for a her sons, simply keeping them alive until they ran off to be find females of their own. Paura was the apple of her eye, whether that was a blessing or a curse Paura is still not sure. Her father was simply absent, her entire life. For this very reason her mother overcompensated in the self confidence building aspect. Her worst fear was the Paura would be weak, helpless, simply waiting around to bare the fruits of some male. Of course, none of this sounded fun to Paura either, so her mother was her hero for most of her life.
Of course, what her mother failed to predict, was the ironic dependence that Paura would place on her mother. They were a team, a unit, the strong female presence, until it simply changed. Paura was older now, over a year, and her mother grew tired of the permanence of her child. Paura never thought that she was being raised to be strong to leave her mother. She thought her mother would want a strong companion throughout her life, but she was wrong. One morning, in a sadly quiet exchange, her mother left. A few words were exchanged, nothing dramatic, but it was clear that Paura was being sent out on her own, indefinitely. She was not sure what to do at first, she did not want to be alone. But, where could she find anyone other than the lifesucking males that only sought to bare their own heirs? It took days, weeks even, of uncertain meandering for Paura's thoughts to make anything of her new life. She could not see her future, it was like her life had come to stand in an empty white room.
Suddenly, in a heart wrenching epiphany, she realized just how wrong she had been. Her mind saw her mother in a new light, a frightening light, a light that cast her in darkness. Then, she realized just how thoroughly she had been molded in that same image. Carefully crafted as her mother's tool of rebellion, only to be grown tired of her and leave her to fend for herself with her mother's dreary views on existence. In one last feat of strength and resolve, she vowed to be anything other than the female who had raised her. She promised to herself to be careful with her opinions, and try her hardest to watch her actions, her emotions, for any trace of the horrid cat she was raised to be. Intent on changing herself, she set out to find a life, a different life. A life that flew in the face of her mother's off putting opinions, and bitter hatred.
• season born | spring
• place of birth | outskirts of hexasol
• family | mother, 2 brothers, father(all estranged)
• memorable events | being her mother's favorite, distant father, mother casting her away, seeing her mother's true colors
+ SAMPLE | Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words.
• link to image of character | link
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Post by MudBug on Apr 12, 2011 19:17:50 GMT
 Random------4 • male • feline • bombay • loner------+ PERSONALITY | Random is a rather ridiculous character. It's funny to just sit back and wonder how such a cat could come to be, and even more puzzling, how he's survived. Random takes 'annoying' to whole new levels. He's small, overly critical, and has a voice that could drive a nun to suicide. This happened in his old town, and he's not entirely certain his nasally screeches aren't to blame. Thankfully, for the sake of everyone's sanity, Random isn't much of a conversationalist. He has a strange way with words. Usually you can only get glimpses at what he's thinking, when he tosses out a sentence or two, here or there.
It's even more rare for these little tidbits of communication to make a lick of sense.
Random is very critical, psycho critical, when he pays attention, which isn't often. You won't realize how much of a blessing it is to be ignored by that cat until he pays attention to you. Once he does, he'll pick out every individual thing you do, and let you know, loud and clear, that he has a problem with it. It's weird to think of Random as anything but a normal average cat, but he's really not. He's strange, in such an annoying way, it's hard to accept that he exists. He likes to play in mud. He likes to play in mud, alot. He likes to play in mud, a whole lot. He's very nearly obsessed with muddy substances and/or dirt of any kind.
Random, on a deeper level, is even more eyebrow raising than on a purposely shallow level. He doesn't mind talking about feelings, and he likes to hear about them. Again, it doesn't mean he'll make sense, but that's just the way he is. Senseless. Speaking of senseless, when Random gets mad, it may cause uncontrollable bleeding from the ears. His already ridiculously shrill voice, will go up to an octave that should never, ever, ever be hit. He doesn't get violent, well, not really. His paws may swing about, and he'll shake and jump around in a strange way, but he's far too much of a coward to make any real advances into a fight. He likes to use his words to fight for him. All kinds of insults, names, and completely insane ramblings can come streaming out of his mouth when he gets flustered. If you can concentrate to really hear what he's saying, you might end up rolling on the ground with a splitting pain in your side, along with the blood pouring from your ears.
• likes | dirt, emotions, critiquing others
• dislikes | being mad, his own voice, fighting
• goals | find a permanent lady friend
• fears | being alone, not having his brother around
• strengths | critical, um..cute?, quiet
• weaknesses | coward, oblivious, doesn't make sense
• mental disorders | none
+ APPEARANCE | Random looks like any other cute little girl, and therein lies the problem. Random's appearence is very...pretty, adorable even. He's incredibly small for a tom cat, of any breed. His head is almost perfectly round, and his ears are the neatest little ovals sitting right on top of his rounded skull His eyes are perfectly round shining orbs of a honey yellow color. Which, of course, send anyone who sees them into grinning, squealing fits. His tail is strangely short, and nobody knows why. His appearance isn't even the slightest bit intimidating, mysterious, ominous, or even interesting. Even with a coat of pure jet black, his only real attribute is being utterly adorable to look at. You see his cute little black nose and you just want to pinch it!
• height | 12"
• weight | 6lbs
• fur colour | black
• eye colour | yellow
• scars | none
• noticeable features | so cute <3
• physical disorders | none
+ HISTORY | Random could bore you to tears with his past life in Singapore, but that would be criminal. He likes ot think his life really started when he and his brother floated their way to this vast new land of Hexasol. they both went their separate ways, through no fault of Random's own. He never wanted to split from his brother, as he's quite fond of him. He almost feels out of place without him. Permanently feeling out of place meant he just needed to wander around for long enough, until he found someplace to feel...in place. Along the way he met all kinds of interesting animals, notably females. Random likes females, for various reasons. He doesn't understand why these females liked him. He remembers repetitive things like "You're so sensitive," or "You understand women," but random could never make any real sense of it.
They were all young enough, really young actually. He really just thought he was making quite a few, very close friends. What really confused him was when they all kept wanting to sleep with him, that was just puzzling, but who was he to say no? Not like they were asking for any commitment. He was vaguely sure they knew of each other, seeing as he mixed their names up all the time. He's actually not sure which is which. When they seemed to get upset at something he called them, he'd just say that was his sister's name, and that usually got him out of trouble. They all seemed to think he was "different from the other toms." He was never aware of any other toms around, but the girls were, and he was better, and that was all that mattered.
There was one friend he made, that he still doesn't understand, but he quite enjoyed her company. A little Chihuahua(that he believes is named Isawhore) took quite a shine to him. It was like having a little barking sister, for a while. He enjoyed it, but one day she asked him something along the lines of "RanRan, you don't want kids do you?" He replied with something to the ends of "Of course, I don't not want little mini me's running all over the place. It'd be beautifully chaotic, in a most troubling way. I think I'd name one Damion, but he'd probably be adopted out. Can't let the black sheep muck up the rest of the litter's minds, you know." and he jumped away and sauntered off into the sunset, completely unaware of what had actually just happened.
He did have one male friend. A shiny gray tom named Lowell. He was friendly, so very friendly. He loved to hang out with Random's female friends as well, which was fine with Random, because, it meant he wouldn't have to talk to them as much, with Lowell around to chat them up. It all came to an end, when one strange afternoon, Random finally started paying attention to Lowell. Of course, it completely escaped Random's thought process that Lowell might have been, in fact, gay. Random nit picked at how he walked, how he talked, how close he sat to Random's self, every little thing. At one point something like "and look at your fur! It looks like you had a dog clean you, did you? No, really, you let a dog lick you clean?" sent Lowell home weeping. Random thought he had quite overreacted to an honest question, but didn't bother himself long. He figured long enough to think would help Lowell realize his flawed habits.
Finally, after much more aimless meandering, he ran into a rough looking bunch of cats, and thought this felt right enough. The little fool was a member of Iris before he could even sputter out his name, and all he thought had happened was he'd been invited in for tea by a strangely rough looking group of nice felines. He kept hearing the word "scum" often, and he wasn't sure why. He figured it must have been some secret ingredient in the tea. Finally tea time was over, before any tea had been served, and Random took his leave. It was so easy to leave Iris, likely because most of the pride members were happy to see a strange looking girly cat leave their grounds. He stumbled around in every inch of loner lands, before quite literally running into his brother, Rumor, and acting like they'd never parted ways.
• season born | he'd ask his brother
• place of birth | singapore
• family | twin brother named Rumor
• memorable events | leaving singapore, separating from brother, making lots of female friends, finding brother again
+ SAMPLE | Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words.
• link to image of character | link
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Post by MudBug on Jul 14, 2011 14:33:37 GMT
 K9 [/font] ------6yrs. • male • canine • german shepherd • tempest • soldier of the bloody paw------[/center] PERSONALITY | [/font] - -The Machine
K9 is practiced in the art of running his mind as if it were a military computer. He behaves as though his life began the moment his training did. This is, more or less, the truth. Bred into the military, he's known no existence without strict rules, contrived structure, and every day consisting of repetitive tasks with a clear objective. For this reason, he's all but incapable of functioning in the "grays areas" of life.
Leadership is not his expertise, but he's known to reluctantly accept the role. He doesn't function well, or at least he doesn't think he does. In truth, he's a pretty fair leader, but it causes him more stress than you would think, which takes a great toll on how he imagines himself in charge.
His biggest weakness would have to be multiple choice problems. K9 is painfully indecisive, especially if it is an important decision. He could ponder for far longer than anyone is comfortable with. Just standing and weighing the options, his thoughts repeating themselves again and again. He will reach a decision, eventually. Unfortunately, as soon as he makes a choice, the regret, guilt, and doubt ensue like heavy weights being dropped on his shoulders. Unless it is quickly made clear that his choice was the right one, it could be hours before he stops fretting himself over what had to be done.
- -The Heart
You might like to think that K9 is a heartless robot, completely unfeeling and callous. This is true, but only because he strives to be that way. Emotions aren't weakness to K9; he's not that arrogant. However, they do bother him, personally. He feels like his mind is perpetually clouded when his emotions are given their full voice. Bottling his feelings comes so naturally that he doesn't even realize he's doing it. His temper is slow, but his wrath is always fierce. Annoyance isn't something he's familiar with. If you aren't of enough consequence to cause him to deeply loathe you, then he probably didn't even notice your presence for more than a second.
As a father, K9 is protective to a fault, which is one of the grossest understatements in history. Knowing just how cruel life can be does not help him trust the real world to take care of his daughter, Ash. He lovers her, of course, as he loved her mother. Still, it's nearly impossible for him to express this. He does show it, however, and you can see it clearly if you know what to look for.
• likes | following orders, respect, keeping things simple
• dislikes | emotional situations, anarchy, disregard for authority
• goals | keep the canines on track in the war against the felines
• fears | losing his focus, being overtaken with his emotions, dying because of someone's stupidity
• strengths | follows orders, quiet, natural leader(though he hates it), clear headed, focused
• weaknesses | bottled emotions, poor communication skills(unless it's in a mission type setting), naturally sour mood, impatient with slow learners
• mental disorders | none
APPEARANCE |[/font]
K9 has a very thin frame for his breed. He lacks the usual exagerated stance of his breed, and his pelt is evenly coated in a creamy brown color, like coffee. The only black to be seen is on his muzzle, fading from darker brown and finally to the same coffee brown of his coat.
K9's eyes are a deep, deep brown, almost black in appearance. His most characteristic trait would be his limp; acquired in the war. Obviously he doesn't like to discuss it, but it doesn't really bother him much. The memories it conjures up are more troublesome than the limp itself.
Finally we come to the pack which is his constant companion. K9 cannot remember the last time he didn't have his pack resting on his spine, to keep him warm, or company, or making the heat only weigh that much more on his shoulders.
• height | 26 inches
• weight | 80lbs.
• fur colour | honey brown
• eye colour | dark brown
• scars | many
• noticeable features | pack he carries constantly
• physical disorders | limp
HISTORY | [/font] K9's history is as you would assume. He was born into the military program for the purpose of breeding the top specimens of his breed, and breeds alike. Speed, strength, brains, and ultimately loyalty were targeted as the necessary traits, and shortly acquired. K9 was one of the last to have the pleasure of serving his country before it all became pointless anyway. With the death of the humans, K9's purpose passed away. Unwilling to settle into a pool of self pity, K9 focused on the positives. The primary of which being the realization that he got to serve in combat at all. It was a short term, obviously, but he could remember every sight, sound, and taste from every single day. The starkest of these memories had left a constant reminder in his very bones.
Some felines; small ones, actually, had been teasing him as he waited for orders to attack the enemy that fired at them. The native Iraq strays used words at first, which barely even registered on K9's rader. Finally, however, they grew impatient, and genuinely perturbed as his ability to simple ignore them. Having been pushed to the edge of what their frail minds could handle, they turned to violence. After turning to face a disembodied voice to his left, he barely had time to realize it was a ruse before there was a bag over his head. It didn't take long for the felines to have their way with him, but the damage was substantial. He awoke to feelings of hunger, thirst, and a bizarre numbers in his leg...
With memories of battle fresh on his mind back home, he set off to find, something. K9 has never felt sure of what he's looking for, but he knows he hasn't found it. Even Trixie, with her soft fur and playful tones couldn't mark the end of his journey. With the birth of his daughter, he resigns himself to life in Hexasol for much longer than he would have thought, but he still hopes to someday set out on his walk again. Hell, maybe even bring his daughter with him... The thought makes him feel the same way that most hearts do just as the heart's owner would be smiling.
• season born | spring
• place of birth | K9 breeding program
• family | Ash(daughter)
• memorable events | fighting in Afghanistan, issues with his partner and cats giving him a limp, battling the felines in Hexasol, blowing up the hospital, falling in love with Trixie, learning he has a daughter
SAMPLE | [/font] Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words. [/s]
• link to image of character | scavenger thread
• where did you find CR? | In my bed. ;)
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