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Post by MudBug on Oct 11, 2011 8:02:32 GMT
Course
[/font] ------newborn • male • feline • lion • lexis------[/center] PERSONALITY | [/font] - -Strong foresight; Course likes to think ahead, how actions will affect future reactions and so on and so forth. It's probably one of his most useful personality traits, for a future leader, at least.
- -Realizes power comes with responsibility; Course knows first hand what recklessness and power together can do. They're both strong traits and they love to play off of each other for horrendous combination. He gravely understands the thought and care someone has to put into holding power, more than most.
- -Fears becoming like his mother; Course has few true fears, but the biggest of these is that his mind is doomed to become a sick machine bent on nothing but his own depraved gain and lust for... whatever he might be lusting for. He knows full well how he came to be in this world, and it sickens him to know he's the product of such malicious scheming.
- -Is bitter about his father's death; Course doesn't dwell on where he came from, or atleast he tries not to. How successful he is in distancing himself from his origins depends on nobody but himself. Some days are worse than others, but he can never fully shake the feeling of a cold piece of steel weighing on his heart about his father's pathetic end.
- -Is very slow to forgive; It might be wise, it might be foolish, but either way it takes more than pleading glances and flowery words to play with Course's memory. He doesn't forget his feelings easily, so it takes him a while to forget is you treated him poorly. This, of course, means forgiveness has to be earned with more than just the passing of time.
- -Quick temper; He does, in fact, have a quick temper. This mostly just means a bunch of shouting and face contortion, seeing as Course never does anything very drastic, very suddenly.
- -Hates procrastination; One of the quickest ways to get on his bad list, but he realizes it's a pet peeve. It drives Course nuts when people accept responsibility only to put it off till the last minute. This is likely just because he's so impatient, but something about it rings as inconsiderate to him.
- -Impatient; In case you hadn't figured it out already, course it extremely impatient. Only with small things, however. He's not one to want big changes to happen quickly, most of the time. there are exceptions to every rule, obviously.
- -Is quick to judge others; Course isn't a particularly bad judge of character, but he's not especially gifted in the art of judging first impressions either. Whatever the case, he's not one to waver on his first idea of what kind of person you are, or aren't.
- -Believes in peace through battle; Everyone sharing equal power and control, coming together to make decisions as a group that best benefit everyone? There's never been a bigger pipe dream, in Course's opinion. The true way to peace, is the right people at the top of the world. There's always going to be "powers at be" the key to peace is getting peaceful "powers at be" in place. This is how Course sees things.
- -Worries his power will get to his head; While he's certain he can control himself, he still has nightmares of growing slowly into some kind of tyrant. Horrific images haunt his dreams of waking up one morning to find all of his subjects quaking in fear at the mention of his name. Of course, he overcompensates by asking for second, third, and even fourth opinions on all of his judgement calls, which can be tiring to everyone else around him.
- -Indecisive, takes forever to be thorough in a decision; As I mentioned above, Course overcompensates for fear of his own nature. It can takes days, weeks, even months for him to come to decision on any important matter. Rash decisions and harsh words aren't what make a stable and noble leader, in Course's opinion. He doesn't think anyone can be doing things right, and quickly. Too good is always untrue.
- -Is extremely protective of those he cares about; You can take his power, and do just about whatever you'd like to Course himself, but don't mess with those he calls his family. The great thing is, being the future leader of a tribe, he cares for just about everyone. So, in short, you best not mess with anybody decent enough that Course doesn't hate them as well.
- -Expects great loyalty; You may not have to respect him, or even like him much, but Course does expect loyalty. There's a special place in hell for traitors, and he'll be first in line to send you there, should you cross him.
- -Has a hard time seeing things from others' point of view; He may fight it as hard as anyone can fight anything, but Course is self centered in some respects. He's not every good at seeing things from the shoes of others. He has a hard time understanding where they may be coming from, what they're feeling, or why it may not make sense to them, whatever 'it' is. Why does he fight this so hard? The reason, is actually rather selfish, even if he doesn't like to think so. It causes him great frustration when he can't understand others' actions or words. Everyone else may get it, but he's oblivious to understand what they might mean.
- - Deep, deep, DEEP down he only wants a family; Yes, somewhere hidden away, deep in this torn cat's heart is nothing but a strong desire for something very simple, family. Not a large family, not even a particularly interesting family, just a stable, living, family of any sort. Hell, they don't even have to be lions, or felines for that matter. He himself doesn't even realize how strong this desire is. But, I imagine, given a proper family, he would drop anything in the world to keep it, should he need to.
• likes | order, peace, respect, honorable people in power • dislikes | petty war, selfishness, pointless bloodshed, tyrants • goals | to bring peace to Hexasol by any means necessary, to avenge his father's death • fears | becoming cold and cruel, being overtaken by a lust for power • strengths | strong since of justice, has no problem making decisions, can quickly sum up a situation and what needs done • weaknesses | short temper, can get taken away with his own passion, long winded sometimes, slow to forgive • mental disorders | none
APPEARANCE |[/font] Course takes after his father in the looks department, for the most part. His eyes may be light like his mother's, but they're not even blue. His coat is short and.. well, course. Eventually it will all be an even tawny brown, clear of the darker spots of his youth that marked his legs and underside. His mane is light brown, with some darker brown under layers around his neck. The whole thing it rather big and poofy, but nothing you'd want to run your fingers through. Harsh and rough, regularly tangled, as much as Course may try to keep it in order. There's nothing about Course that stands out much, other than his size. He's rather large for a lion, of any regard. He's a good whole foot taller than most average males of his breed.
• height | 5ft. at the shoulders (adult) • weight | 650lbs. (adult) • fur colour | tawny brown • eye colour | light brown • scars | none • noticeable features | large • physical disorders | none HISTORY | [/font] Not applicable.
• season born | spring • place of birth | lexis territory • family | Streiter(father), Icefang(mother), Ember(sister) • memorable events | none
SAMPLE | [/font] Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words. [/strike] • link to image of character | link, link
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Post by MudBug on Oct 11, 2011 8:03:05 GMT
YUKE [/font] ------newborn • male • feline • ocelot x bornean clouded leopard • lexis------[/center] PERSONALITY | [/font] - -Quiet because of his voice; Yuke speaks with a quiet, airy tone. Not quite girly, but not quite manly gruff either. Born with a cold, it took a distinct toll on his vocal chords. He realizes that almost everyone is likely to assume him weak because of his light speech, but he just quietly hates them.
- -Keeps his opinions to himself; If you want Yuke's opinion, you have to ask for it. He's not a very out spoken cat, to say the least. Of course, if you ask for his opinion, or bug him for it rather, then you'll get the real deal, no sugarcoating. Unfortunately, at that point he's probably got a real arrogant tone in his voice if his opinion differs from anyone else's, so watch out or you'll end up with a debate sprung on you.
- -Plenty confident, even if he seems shy; Yuke acts shy, very shy. But, he's hardly got self-esteem issues. He's not sure what makes him slump when he walks and look meek regardless of how proud he may be inside. Whatever the reason, don't let his humble demeanor mislead you, he's plenty sure of himself. Whether this is always a good thing, is to remain seen.
- -Quietly very conceited; Conceited is exactly the right word, unfortunately. He may be just nodding and going along with whatever you're doing, or saying, but his mind is likely thinking you're a total fool. Since his voice is in such a deteriorated state, he usually refrains from letting everyone know just how much he thinks he's smarter than them.
- -Doesn't like to help others; Helpful is not what you would use to describe Yuke, by any stretch of the imagination. He's not just plain lazy, but he's not quick to help anyone with anything. Close friends and family get help from his easily enough, but anyone else will have to earn it a little, or deal with his silent whining while the job gets done.
- -Enjoys seeing others have to deal with consequences; If you deserve it, Yuke will be there with an "i told you so" and a smile, no doubt. He gets quite a proud sense of accomplishment - even if it's no doing of his own - when he sees natural justice played out effectively.
- -Strong sense of self responsibility; Yuke is alot of things, but reckless isn't one of them. He's a big fan of self preservation and responsibility, in all forms. He doesn't appreciate others who refuse to take blame for what is clearly their fault. He is not one to shy away from taking his own blame, but if you were to try and pin your mistakes on him.. it.. well, he won't appreciate it, is all I can say.
- -Doesn't understand the quest for power; Well, he does understand it, he just doesn't really appreciate it's importance. Yuke wouldn't be bothered a bit if powerful people ceased to exist tomorrow. Everybody on equal footing, just stick out for their own gaggle of friends, would suit him just fine. Might not make the most sense, in a the grand scheme of things, but it sounds simple enough to work, to Yuke anyway.
- -Likes others to stay out of his business; Yuke is a keep-to-himself type of guy, for certain. He's not anti-social, but he's hardly a social butterfly. Of course, this also means he doesn't appreciate friendly advances into his life's "goings ons" either. There's a clear line for Yuke, between your business, and not your business. Unfortunately, he's got that line set quite a ways farther ahead than most people. You might think this would make him come off as mysterious, when he dodges simple questions or gives vague answers. But, really, it's just rather draining to try and hold a cordial conversation with him, when he gives you nothing to work with.
- -Loves his family more than he lets them know; It's his best kept secret, he's almost proud of that fact. Yuke loves his family dearly, they're all he's ever had, and he doesn't expect to gain much more from life. He's not even sure why he tries to hide the level of his care, maybe he's afraid of it.. or what they would think if he was just a fluffy ball of love floating around and making everyone feel all warm inside? Who knows...
- -Pretends he knows what he's doing; Even if he hasn't the slightest clue, you'll never see a drop of sweat. Well, I'm sure if you know him well you could catch on, but he's still a darn good actor when it comes to touch'n'go moments. His pride will never let him admit that he's stumped, so he's just got to wing it and hope that his "i got this" demeanor will make whatever he does seem more logical. Foolproof plan, right?
- -Very good at being in denial; Nobody does denial better than Yuke, unless they've begun hallucinating. It doesn't matter the situation, the circumstance, how much evidence there is. He can put his foot down and stick his lip out about anything and refuse to believe what he doesn't want. Obviously, he's not mental. Eventually he'll come to reality. Getting him to accept it, however, is a whole other ball of wax.
- -Pretends to be independent; He goes on and on about leaving home to set out his own path, find his own life, yada yada and life is a highway. Honestly, he couldn't last a month on his own. If he didn't give up first, the loneliness would drive him mad. That's not even mentioning the actual hardship of life outside of a family's stronghold. Some small part of him is aware that he doesn't actually want to go anywhere, but that's where his handy dandy denial powers come in.
• likes | being left alone, letting nature take it's course • dislikes | meddlers, power, needing others' help • goals | to fend for himself and never have to ask anyone for anything • fears | getting held down to one place • strengths | self control, decent judge of character, knows how to be quiet • weaknesses | conceited, denial, self absorbed, can't ask for help • mental disorders | none
APPEARANCE |[/font] Yuke is the spitting image of his father, from nose to tail. A short thick coat spread over a chunky form. Most of his body is a base golden cream color, with large cloud like grey/black spots covering his pelt. The only trait you could really say he got from his mother would be his lighter pelt, seeing as it's atleast two shades lighter than his fathers, and it won't darken as he ages.
His build is fairly average, maybe a bit on the small side. But, that's to be expected, since his mother was almost half his father's size, after all. His eyes are a faded brown shade, not very bright, but not very dark. All in all he's nothing much to look at.
• height | 8" at the shoulders • weight | 23lbs. • fur colour | silver and dark brown • eye colour | dull brown • scars | none • noticeable features | very small • physical disorders | cold will leave his voice weak and raspy HISTORY | [/font] Note applicable.
• season born | spring • place of birth | lexis territory • family | Rabba(father), Filatweet(mother), Shale, Ellaina, and Caramell(sisters) • memorable events | none
SAMPLE | [/font] Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words. [/strike] • link to image of character | link, link
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Post by MudBug on Oct 11, 2011 8:11:09 GMT
ALBATROSS [/font] ------4 - male - canine - nova scotia duck tolling retriever - loner------[/center] PERSONALITY | [/font] Everything about Albatross orbits around one key part of himself; his borderline worship of cats. He isn't crazy, well he's still fairly intelligent, but his mind's way of coping with his past is to become enamored with the very creatures that tortured him for nearly a year, and turn on his own kind. So, I suppose he is quite crazy. Albatross doesn't think all canines should be obliterated, so much as he thinks they just need to learn their place. His obsession with felines comes from an inside out respect for their power, independence, sheer numbers, and in some cases their incredible size. Felines may have been pets, but they never buckled to be dominated by fragile humans. Whereas canines lived to serve the hairless creatures, for no reason other than they lacked the harsh backbone to declare their right to a higher rung on the foodchain.
Underneath all that preachiness and ridiculous bravado for felines, there used to live a sweet young soul. Before his life took a fateful turn down a dark path, Tross was much like any other large puppy would be. He was kind, caring, brave, impatient, and not quite sure what to do with his extra size. You could say that he still is all of those things, but it's all been twisted to bend around a new soul that can't imagine a world without felines in charge, violence, and a constant seeking of retribution. He is kind, if you submit. If you make it clear that Albatross will have no issues with you questioning his (or a feline's) authority, then he's quite generous and even a jokester on occasion. This, of course, is always much darker when painted with the brush of an oppressive maniac.
He cares deeply for felines, and even for his canine brethren. The latter, however, have to meet a certain criteria to earn a spot in his toughts. Since he views any canine that would willingly take a stand against cats as an incourageable fool, that just leaves the "calateral damage" for him to pitty. He feels sorry for those that were born to a life of arrogance and ill teaching. So, basically any young dog born into Tempest, has his pity, but only for a short while. Albatross is quite strict about self responsibility and accountability. He shows no mercy when you're getting what you deserve, and he'll be the first in line to bring fate's hammar down on your head full force.
- likes | felines, fearful canines, respect, violence - dislikes | arrogance(especially in canines), felines losing, peace - goals | to serve felines and bring arrogant canines to their knees - fears | being punished for being born a canine(he believes he'd deserve this) - strengths | mostly fearless, never goes back on a decision, loyal(to a fault in some cases), intelligent - weaknesses | random bursts of rage, incapable of handling emotions, pride, gruesome killer - mental disorders | just generally batshit
APPEARANCE |[/font] It isn't likely that anyone who last saw Albatross when his parents were alive would even recognize him now. His vibrant red coat has been dulled by lack of nutrition and constant harsh sunlight, leaving it a faded orange tint. Of course, even this is half hidden by the constant thick coat of dried mud and dirt he religiously keeps gathered onto his coat. His coat is a huge mess, every inch of it. Matted chunks that he never bothers to care for, blad spots that were chewed beyond repair in his captured days.
His eyes are actually pretty, when they aren't twinkling with malice, or the intent to kill. They're a light, dull brown. It almost looks like a pure stoney grey in the right light.
Build wise he's definitely something worth noticing. He wasn't much of a giant as a very young pup, but when his siblings stopped growing, he didn't. He grew steadily for almost ayear longer than his siblings, not stopping till he was around two full years old. It wasn't ever anything he himself as impressed with, but it seemed to affect how others percieved him, something he uses to his full advantage now.
- height | 28" at the shoulders - weight | 75lbs - fur colour | auburn - eye colour | grey/brown - scars | too many to count - noticeable features | freaking huge for his breed - physical disorders | missing a few claws, a tear in his left lip, bald spots, matted chunks of fur, among other things HISTORY | [/font] Albatross life had the beginning of a happy-go-lucky story of fun, adventure, and rosy memories. Unfortunately that wasn't meant to be the whole if his story. His earliest memories - which he's since chosen to forget - are of his family, humans and dogs, travelling the picturesque contryside without a care in the world. This was doomed, however, when his parents met with some felines with nothing but horribl intentions. He doesn't care to recall the details, but it seems there was some debt owed by his parents. Whatever the wrong, the penalty was death. Albatross could do nothing but sit by and watch as his parents were slayed, and he and his siblings were ripped away from their travelling home to live at the mercy of the sadistic felines.
The days and nights all ticked by slowly, at first. Albatross was certain he could free himself and his siblings in a matter of days. He fought long and hard, battling exhaustion and everything the felines could throw at him. They treated him just like the other prisoners at first, but his size began to gain him an upper hand. So, they decided to put him in his place. He doesn't recall much from the fateful day that truly shattered his sense of belonging in the world, but he recalls patterns. Stripes, spots, and bleak chunks of gray. It was the most blood he'd ever spilled in a single day, and it would continue to flow for weeks to come. They shattered his body first, and once they had him helpless, they shattered his mind. They took extra measures to bring him to where they would torture the females. They forced him to hear the screams of terror, and see the eventually lifeless eyes stare at him from the ground where they finally landed.
It began to blur after that. The minutes turned to hours, the hours to days, the days to weeks, the weeks to months, the months slowly added to a year, but Alabtross had forgotten how to feel time passing. All he could do was stare, stare and obey. Obeying was all he knew now. Obedience got him fed, kept his blood inside of his veins - most of the time - kept his ears farther away from the horrifying cries of pain. The felines had beaten him, completely. They didn't know just how well they had beaten him. His shattered mind came full circle, and now all he could think about was how truly beaten he was. The more he thought about it, the more amazed he became with their power, and size. They had killed his parents in a blink, taken his siblings, taken lives without thinking. It was unthinkable, sheer greatness. It wasn't long before he was in awe of these monsters that ruled his life, enough to become their "pet", of sorts. He begged them for opportunities to serve, to put his useless canine self to any sort of use.
Albatross was content in his slavery now, but it wouldn't last long. He'd heard tales of a great gang of canines building in numbers and seeking feline blood, but he couldn't think it would ever be a real threat. Somehow, whilst the largest members of the proud were out on a hunt, canines attacked in the blink. They set every prisoner and slave free, but Albatross fought them with all he had. His siblings were gone in a blink, which he was happy for. Somehow he survived the carnage, but the pride was in tatters. There was nothing left of the greatness that he had come to care for so deeply. Unsure of what to do, he could think only of retribution. The canines that had attacked must pay for their impertinence, and Tross would do everything in his power to see that they did.
- season born | winter - place of birth | Countryside - family | Father: Shay , Mother: Lullaby , Brother: Zuko , Sisters: Azula, Angel, Jezabel - memorable events | parents murdered, being tortured, seeing felines killed
SAMPLE | [/font] Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words.
[/strike] - link to image of character | link where did you find CR? | YOUR FACE![/blockquote] [/blockquote] [/blockquote]
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Post by MudBug on Oct 17, 2011 9:32:17 GMT
JANINA [/font] ------6yrs - female - canine - eurasian wolf - loner------[/center] PERSONALITY | [/font] Janina is a mystery warped in an enigma and coated in a puzzle. As soon as you answer one question, you raise ten more. A carefully crafted web of manipulation and clever subversiveness keeps her true nature hidden from prying minds, and that's exactly how she wants it... even if it is a total crock.
In truth, she's no more complex than any other wolf with a rough patch in her past. Brief flashbacks that trouble her dreams of moments from her earliest days as a pup are all she has to remind her that life hasn't always been so boring, or a bowl full of cherries. Janina is big into reality. It's like her hobby, realism that is. Optimism, cynicism, and all of the above don't interest her. She just wants the real hard truth of the matter, be it good or bad. With realism comes a need for honesty, which Janina takes seriously to heart. You couldn't make an enemy out of her faster than you can with a simple lie. Janina doesn't believe in white lies, not at all. Of course, she's not a fool. Manipulation and withholding information are two very different things from telling a lie.
The topping on this oh-so-honorable pie is her taste for justice. Payback, karma, justice, whatever you'd like to call it, Janina is all for life being fair. Unfortunately, that means she can and will hold a grudge until revenge is hers. She might even forget about it for a decade, but if her memory is triggered, it's like a fresh wound. Times doesn't heal very well for Janina. She's in denial about this, however. Insisting that she's not stuck in the past, when her mind and heart travel there quite often.
Now for the trivial stuff to round her out. She's very emotional, which pisses her off to no end. She hates to feel anything too deeply, other than burning rage. It's embarrassing for her, and it obviously doesn't feel nice to be stricken with sadness or grief either. So, in her eyes emotions aren't very useful, at least not anything but anger and a laugh here or there. Anger is like a tool to Janina. She takes it and harnesses it for extra power to tap into when she's feeling weak, which isn't often.
Obviously, one who holds so much disdain for deep feeling, wouldn't care much for very emotional situations either. You'd be perfectly right in this assumption: it's an open and shut case. Janina likes to say she "has an allergy to drama" when the topic comes up. She thinks drama is just immature and pointless, no matter the situation. She's quick to judge people in dramatic situations. It's her reflex reaction to assume anything causing a hubbub must be linked to someone's self-importance issues, or something similar. Janina cannot stand selfishness in any way shape or form, but that doesn't mean she's the most selfless soul herself. Unfortunately she's rather hypocritical, in more ways than she thinks.
- likes | honesty, realism, justice/revenge - dislikes | the war, hypocrisy, selfishness, immaturity - goals | just to live out a life at all, away from war and other drama - fears | being swept up in the war and taking/losing life - strengths | very level headed, sees things for what they are, blunt and honest - weaknesses | more emotional than she'd like, lives in her past more than she thinks, being in denial, sometimes hypocritical - mental disorders | none
APPEARANCE |[/font] Medium length, course fur cover her entire body. Various shades of brown and red hues with flecks of black and grey mixed throughout building her colorful coat. With patches of white covering the side of her muzzle and her cheeks. A wide stripe of red runs down her snout, as well as auburn covering the backs of her ears.
Her eyes are a glowing reddish brown and set low in her skull, almost looking to rest on her snout. She's large for her breed, especially for a female, but her build is not particularly threatening. Widest at the shoulders and somewhat slim toward her rear. Her broad shoulders, however, do not give way to much of a neck. It almost looks as though her head is sitting directly on her shoulders.
- height | 35" - weight | 130lbs. - fur colour | reds, browns, and greys - eye colour | light auburn brown - scars | none - noticeable features | eyes, colorful coat - physical disorders | none HISTORY | [/font] Janina's past is a mystery to all but two wolves in this world. She tells no-one of her old pack life, her family which was broken apart far too soon, or even her travels across Hexasol. Most don't even know she has a brother. She fell out of the habit of mentioning his name long ago.
Janina was raised - if you could call it being raised - in a pack of, more or less, lost Eurasian wolves like herself. The pack had been displaced by a storm in their homeland, and by the time they stopped their wandering found themselves in the land of the arctics. Arctic wolves were numerous in the area, and the packs soon decided the Eurasian's didn't belong. The wars waged as quickly as wolves could die and be born.
Janina was only a pup when the war hit home for her and her kin. It was supposed to be to keep them safe; out of harm's way. Their mother had spoken to them in a cheery voice when she asked if they'd like to go see what pretty leaves they might find in the forest, maybe even see some fun creatures leaping about. Of course, being cubs and not realizing they were simply being diverted from their father leaving for battle yet again, they gleefully agreed to the jaunt. Little did anyone know, that fateful afternoon would be their mother's last.
Janina and her brother giggled beneath a tree when suddenly they heard their mother's growls ripping through the air. Young eyes watched in horror as a large male arctic wolf tore their mother's throat open, letting her life's blood drain away into the ground. Janina knew, at that moment, she would never be able to forget what death looked like.
Life became a blur after that day. Their father went on a tirade, being the leader and having found out his mate was killed in an honorless skirmish. He quickly saw his demise when he set out, alone, to attack the heart of the enemy pack in the dead of night. Janina remained to see her father buried beside her mother but left that very night. Her brother, her sweet baby brother. She could only hope for the best for him, but she decided she couldn't stay in this land of white death.
She set out for whatever she could find in the world, and she found Hexesol. It wasn't much. She would never understand the tall strange structures standing where the wilderness should be. Of course, war and death consumed even this land. Thankfully, this place didn't grab you into the clutches of a pack and claim your loyalty without asking. Janina will die a loner, if she has her way.
- season born | winter - place of birth | northern wilderness - family | deceased mother, unknown siblings - memorable events | mother killed by enemy wolf, her children killed, leaving pack to be a loner
SAMPLE | [/font] Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words.
[/strike] - link to image of character | linky dink- where did you find CR? | Squished between the seats on the bus! [/blockquote] [/blockquote] [/blockquote]
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Post by MudBug on Dec 16, 2011 14:34:12 GMT
NASH [/font] ------5yrs. • male • feline • siamese mix • loner • none------[/center] PERSONALITY | [/font] Nash is an idiot. There, that's covered. It gets complicated when you mix his ego into it. Did I say complicated? I should have said: it reaches whole new levels of obnoxious, the likes of which would make a nun taste stabbing. Nash is self centered to the point that you wonder if he might honestly believe the world does, in fact, revolve around him. He could believe this, if you dropped enough six letter words into a phony explanation.
His idiocy means he doesn't understand much of what goes on around him, but his pride won't let him simply ask nicely and say please for help. He gets incredibly frustrated when someone won't explain something to him in excruciating detail, slowly. Talking fast can elicit a violent physical reaction from Nash. If you brush him away without anything to help him with his confusion, he simply nags, and nags, and nags, and is instantly convinced you're the worst example of life to ever grief the planet with your existence.
The only good thing about Nash is that he's usually quiet, when he doesn't think he needs to understand the situation. Half of the time he's content to sit back "let the pretty people work". When he finally has a question: read above. Adversity doesn't phase him much, primarily because he doesn't know it when he sees it. Starvation isn't a problem, because he'll eat anything. No, really: anything.
Being far too moronic to think of what could happen to him from ingesting the leftovers of other kills, Nash has a hunting strategy that could be summed up as "follow the flies", in most cases. He can't understand why anyone would go through the trouble of killing things themselves when the birds leave so much on their plates. For whatever reason, Nash was born with the immune system of an Armored Car, but he's certain that he's just smarter than everyone for eating the things he does.
• likes | simple stuff, food, slow talkers • dislikes | "smarty asses", long-winded explanations, science, big plans, fast prey • goals | f**k it all • fears | never understanding a single damn thing • strengths | keeps to himself, doesn't pick fights, scavenger • weaknesses | dumb(really), poor communication skills, not very hospitable • mental disorders | dumbass
APPEARANCE |[/font] A face only a mother could love - with a blindfold. An ugly son of a bitch if there ever was one, Nash can't remember the last time he bothered staring at his mug on the surface of something shiny. The shiny thing is far more interesting, obviously, then the ugly tomcat inside of it. His pelt is stark white over every inch, and folded in more places than should it should be for your average cat. Somehow, against the laws of reasonable nature, Nash is fat. It doesn't make sense, a stray managing to keep on the weight, but he's done it. Perhaps McDonalds is even worse for after it's been decaying in a dumpster for two years?
His face is the real treasure. The features of a kitten slapped onto an adult sized head, but with caked on dirt and grime, and a constant scowl taking away every bit of the cuteness. His ears are like a rat's: small, round, and bent in odd places. His grimace is made comical by the way his nose is apparently twisted sideways on his face, and pushed in perhaps just a bit more than it should be. Finally are his eyes, which you could say are his best feature, but you could also say they're his worst, seeing as they're only ever used for blank stares and condescending eye rolling. A light green color, almost like a kiwi, and resting at the front of his round face, his eyes are the classic almond shape of any "pretty kitty".
• height | 25 inches • weight | 20lbs. • fur colour | dingey off-white • eye colour | light green • scars | slightly crinkled up ear, perpetually crusty muzzle • noticeable features | permanent scowl/look of confusion • physical disorders | none HISTORY | [/font] He awoke cold, hungry (that was new), and with no idea what in the hell was going on around him (nothing new there). Something else was off, but his mind took a while to figure out what it was. After assessing that he was, in fact, dripping wet and lost beyond hope of regaining his bearings, he realized that he had no idea what time of day it was. It was like amnesia, but not nearly as exciting. He remembered who, what, and why had gotten him... where-ever and whenever he was now.
The where: Hexasol Underground. The who: his own mother. The why: she couldn't stand another moment in his presence, and bid him off to make his own way through the world. He gladly vowed to do so, and ended up here. The fact that a "highly organized" ring of catnip peddling mobster tabbies had knocked him over the head with a hairbrush and drug him here, was just a minor detail.
Nash was in a normal stray litter, with normal stray parents, and normal stray problems. That is if most strays have the problem of the entire family being wracked with outbursts of insatiable anger over at the very sound of one particular family member's voice. That was the day-to-day trauma of Nash's siblings and parents alike. After the longest year of their lives, his father and siblings had all they could stand. There was a heated goodbye, but finally they made their escape. Nash didn't bother to notice whether they said they'd miss his mother, or not. The fools could just leave then. Life was hard, and he wasn't about to take it on all by himself; not when he had a mother perfectly happy to take it for him.
He spent a few more years doing nothing with himself, nothing for anyone but himself, and just generally nothing. Finally, his mother had some kind of revelation, or something, and decided they were going to go on an adventure. At her age - an ancient 7 years - Nash couldn't imagine what she was thinking. Still, with nothing better to do - and since a certain old t-shirt was frustrating him with it's complex network of fabric tunnels - he agreed to it.
They set off for the wilderness. It didn't take long. Finally, after around two days, his mother had stretched her legs to her content and suggested they double back around. By this point: Nash had suffered through the unspeakable horrors of Mother Nature's wrath. Splinters, rain, itchy leaves, creepy bugs, and wind blowing his coat in annoying directions. He had never been one for revenge, but this deserved some kind of retribution. To spite his mother, he threw a fit about going home until she conceded to staying out another day, or so.
Finally (after a few more hours), his will to punish his mother was overpowered by his desire - no, his need for civilization. They found the road and followed it in the general direction from which they'd come. After a few hours of walking (they hadn't managed to get far from home in their travels, more like make quite a few intricate circles - think like Celtic knots), they stumbled into an old gas station. The place looked like it was haunted by the ghosts of 1953, but only a human would bother to care.
Nash worked with a furry to find an entry point, but somehow this place had grown to be completely feline proof. How this was possible, he couldn't imagine. Everyplace, every building had a way in, one way or another. If there were no other options, he could always count on some blithering human to crack the door enough for his not-so-lithe frame to slip through. Here, however, there wasn't a soul in sight - blithering, or otherwise.
Finally he gave up, and with nothing better to occupy him, he decided this new strain of adversity earned his mother the full wrath of his incessant nagging abilities. He whined, moaned, groaned, insulted, demeaned, and even sang hurtful songs to his own mother. Of course, all of it was done much the same way a ten year old child would ridicule their petty rival, but Nash was completely sincere. Finally his mother snapped, harder than she'd ever snapped before. She had always been so patient with him, so the shock on his face was almost audible.
After a one sided shouting match - it sounded like she had said these words to him over a thousand times in her mind, she trounced off, back to the wilderness, and left Nash standing there was shock and pain clear on his face, thinly veiled by arrogant pride. "Fine! I don't need you and your high and mighty ideas of adventure anyway!"
After that, he was on his own. He somehow found his way back home without serious injury, or a warrant out for his death. When he arrived, he expected his mother to be there, waiting, ready to give him a kiss and say she was sorry. When he ducked inside, however, his steps were strangely loud, even to him. She wasn't there. He was alone. At the time, he never would have imagined that's how things were going to stay.
After a while without his mother, the boredom was all but physically crushing. He left his hideout to find something to amuse him, and found more than he expected. In truth, he didn't know what he found, and probably still doesn't to this day. Don't ask him how it happened, because he can't remember the events in the proper order - they were far too unimportant to be etched deeply into his mind, but he wound up finding himself at the other end of "the sharpest claws this side of anywhere", as they had been graciously dubbed.
The claws were attached the paw of a certain hitcat among the feline underground. Nash had asked the wrong questions way too loudly, and around the wrong people, and the rag-tag bunch of catnip peddlers decided his mouth wasn't tight enough to seal in the information he had. He can't remember what saved his life, but some caused the hitcat to let go of his pelt just as he was about to deliver the death strike to Nash's neck. Nash had fallen and hit his head on the tracks below, knocking him out instantly.
When Nash came to he could hardly remember anything other than the faces of the felines he knew he needed to stay away from. A quick glance around in the dark led him to spot a rather strong leak in the ceiling, and what looked like it could be an exit. After much physical labor - almost enough to equal the many 'breaks' he insisted he had to take - Nash made it to the outside world. It was around mid-September; rainy season. That explained his soaked pelt, he thought. As for the temperature, it wouldn't be so bad once he was dry. He'd taken care of everything - Nash: 1, Mother: 0 - accept for his ravenous hunger. Everything after his first meal in a dumpster is, as they say, just history.
• season born | winter • place of birth | behind a dumpster in Straight Bit • family | long gone • memorable events | siblings leaving with his father, leaving his mother, getting mixed up with criminals, fleeing criminals to live as a complete loner
SAMPLE | [/font] Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words. [/s] • link to image of character | sobi.org • where did you find CR? | Up your butt and around the corner! ;D
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Post by MudBug on Dec 23, 2011 21:45:10 GMT
LYALL [/font] ------newborn - male - canine - wolf - tempest - brotherhood of senka------[/center] PERSONALITY | [/font] - -Low self esteem; Lyall has never thought much of himself. It's hardly crippling, but himself is the last person you'll hear him talk about. For this reason, he has a tendency to easily respect and admire others whether they deserve it, or not. Just about everyone is better than himself, in his eyes. This doesn't mean, however, that he's constantly melancholic, or sitting around hating every fiber of his being. He simply finds himself. . .boring.
- -Devil's advocate; Lyall has a habit of defendin just about anyone for anything, whether it benefits himself, or not. Of course, this can get rather annoying when he's in a room full of other who can taste stabbing, and he's the lone wolf attempting to rationalize an irrideemable act.
- -Strange, random fears; He's afraid of many things, he just doesn't know it. Taking a walk on the beach sounds fine, until, suddenly he's stricken with a petrifying fear of the tide washing up around his feet. After makeing a run for dryer land, he can't even remember why he was so frightened in the first place. This strange mental tick is easily his most crippling trait. It's troubling to never know when a peculiar phobia may just fabricate in your mind.
- -Strange talker; Lyall isn't shy, but some strangers may wish he was. He's not quite outgoing, but he is talkative once you engage him. His way of speaking, however, is far different from what you'd expect. When excited (which is more often than you might think), he has a tendency to talk in rapid shortspeak. Sentences chopped into strange chunks, with hyperdramatic tone, and way more physical punctuation than necessary. That's right, Lyall talks with his. . .paws. On the opposite end of his personal speech spectrum, there's the drawled, sob story telling air he gives to almost anything that's not a pleasent topic, or, at least, not interesting to him.
- -Scatterbrained; Most often the term "scatterbrained" is used to describe someone who acts much like a squirrel who's just had a six pack of Mt. Dew to help them bounce back from a 24hr movie binge the night beforehand. This, however, is not Lyall's particular brand of mental chaos. He sure seems like it, but in truth, he can pay absolute attention to anything for however long necessary. The real trick is, getting him interested enough to find whatever the topic is worthy of his undevided attention. Otherwise, he will devide it among the most possible things he can think of at one time.
- -Slow on the uptake; Lyall isn't stupid, but he seems to lag behind everyone else by just a fraction of a moment. Once he's logged all of the info, he never forgets a thing, but it takes him a second or two to propular organize his thoughts when there's a flood of new information coming in.
- -Daydreamer; Speaking of Lyall's thoughts, he has a distinct tendency to get completely lost in them. Lyall can daydream about, literally anything. Half of the time his mental escapes are hardly what you'd consider dreams. Even troubling scenes can play out in his mind, in great detail. If you catch him staring at a cloud, a bush, or even the back of someone's skull, you can bet your bottom dollar that he's been thinking about nothing other than what he would do if a psychotic bear came rushing at his face at that very moment, or if the love of his life sauntered up and said hello.
- -Self sacrificing; Somehow this peculiar wolf has learned how to make the most of his pitiful lack of self worth and respect. If it were ever to come to "you or him", you can be certain he'll personally stick his neck out as far as it can go. He's not gullible, or even too stupid to realize if he's being used. Rather, he doesn't like to think of anyone else decent, or who might have more to lose than himself, being the one that gets shortchanged.
- -Fear of sudden changes; It's been fairly smooth sailing so far, but now we get to his real weakness. Change. Sudden change, that is. If his father were to pass away, slowly, at a ripe old age, of natural causes, Lyall would be able to cope with that. However, if the weather takes a sudden change for even a notch less as pleasent as it was five minutes earlier, his mind can go reeling in a downward spiral that could eventually send him running, with nothing but a trail of shrill whines behind him.
- -No taste for fighting, but not afraid of it; Lyall doesn't like to fight. He, of course, doesn't think he's very adept at it, and the whole mess just feels contrived to him. Still, he's not afraid to step up if absolutely necessary. He'll be the first to tell you that he's not the one you want on your team, but if you can push him forward eventually, you'll definitely have a lethal enough weapon on your side.
- -Fiercely loyal, but emotionally reserved; Lyall is nothing if he isn't loyal, but he has less than orthodox ways of showing it. He likes to think of (what he presumes) nobody else has thought of, yet, when it comes to pleasing those he cares about. Original gestures, you might say. Other than that, emotions aren't really his favorite form of expression. He fully understands and sympethises with others, but he's hardly an open book. It's not a consciou effort to keep his feelings supressed, or hidden, more than it just stems from his complete lack of interest in anything having to do with himself.
- likes | helping others, rational thinking, keeping to himself - dislikes | self reflection, arbitray topics that bore him, quick changes - goals | to not be a complete nuissance to everyone around him - fears | sudden change, arbitrary things that strike him as threatening - strengths | friendly, intelligent, sympathetic, selfless - weaknesses | often "spaced out", no self worth, not the best communicator - mental disorders | none
APPEARANCE |[/font] As a pup,bLyall isn't the most beautiful of his siblings. A mismatched bunch, color wise, his coat couldn't seem to decide it want to be colored or greyscale. The result was a faded brown, like a dry leaf on death's door, for most of Lyall's youth. His eyes were (and still are) equally lack luster grey. It may sound unique, interesting even, but the dulness in his reflection's gaze has always brought a resigned sigh to his lips. Back to his coat: the pelt is course, and generally unfriendly to the touch. As he grows older it will lighten, however, till he's nearly as white as his mother, with patches of darker grey marring his back.
Finally, we come to his build. Losing his extra puppy weight early on, Lyall grows to be a rather lithe wolf. Somehow growing to have a lankier frame than his parents, his legs are just a tad too long, and and every about his face is just a bit too narrow.
- height | 36" - weight | 48lbs. - fur colour | white/grey - eye colour | grey - scars | none - noticeable features | none - physical disorders | none HISTORY | [/font] He started out in his father's penis, but got evicted. So he took a trip through his mom's vagina before he settled down in the womb with some new roommates. After a while, they all agreed it was getting crowded, and a made break for the vagina again. They landed on earth, and damn it was bright and loud. The rest is yet to be seen...as soon as they can get their eyes open.
- season born | winter - place of birth | tempest - family | Father: Gravity, Mother: Rikki, Brothers: Orion and Adrian, Sister: Valkyrie - memorable events| none
SAMPLE | [/font] Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words. [/strike] - link to image of character | Pup - (from maternity thread), Adult - link - where did you find CR? | Down the rabbit hole! :D
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Post by MudBug on Jan 6, 2012 7:24:05 GMT
RACHEL [/font] ------5.5yrs - female - canine - german shepherd - loner - B.A.M.F------[/center] PERSONALITY | [/font] Rachel is all about Rachel, and what Rachel wants, you had better hope you're not standing in the way of. This bitch is full of herself, arrogant, cocky, boisterous, loud, proud, and all around a pure source of obnoxiousness. Let's not let her off that easy, though. We'll pick her apart, bit by bit, and find out what really makes her tick so loudly.
Her overblown sense of self worth is a classic case of "trust no-one", which she, for some unfathomable reason, has taken to the next level. You're likely to be thinking "how does a canine with such trust issues function in the military?" That's a good qeustion. The asnwer is, she trusts the system, just not individuals. She doesn't try to claim that her thinking makes sense, but then again, she doesn't think much about her way of thinking at all. The thing is, once you have a name and a face, Rachel doesn't trust you. She trusts the cogs in the machine, but if you make yourself more than a cog, then you're a person, and people make mistakes.
She's arrogant because, well, she has to be. Ok, no, she doesn't have to be, but she likes to think so. Rachel was always an exagerated personality, and being thrown into the corps hardly helped soften her around the edges. She doesn't like being patronized to. She can admit when she's wrong, and correct her mistakes, but do not speak to her like some kind of bumbling pup! As soon as hears that tone coming from anyone, it doesn't matter how wrong she is, just sitting back and taking it is out of the question. It's not the same as being hounded by a drill sargeant. It's like being hounded by a drill sargeant who thinks you're too soft to be told, straight up, that you screwed up.
Cockiness is, of course, a must for any spitfire, isn't it? To be honest, she doesn't know. All she knows is that when someone talks trash, you have to talk it back. Simply, factually pointing out reasons A, B, and C that make them a moron will result in a real fight of the tooth and nail variety. Her cockiness if fickle, however. She doesn't enjoy snarly banter, it feels pointless, to her. As the back and forth drags on her quips will become steadily more like pure venom filled insults, with no purpose but to cut like a knife.
Loud, proud, and boisterous, aren't they all different sides of the same coin? For Rachel, pretty much. She's never been clear on what the subtle differences were, but she's content that almost nobody else is either. Besides, who's going to correct her? "Excuse me, but you are, in fact, improperly boisterous, and behaving more akin to pride, Miss." ... "Go suck on some big hairy ones, cheesestick." Not very charming, but she gets the job done. Her sense of humor is like it rolled off an assembly line. In her mind, her jokes and laughs are almost calculated. She rarely sees the humor of random things, or even irony, but she's taught herself to recognize the tone of something that's meant to be funny.
So, to sum it all up, Rachel is a hoity toity bitch, who only acts like a ball of snarky fun. If you got her to speak the truth (you must be a wizard), you would quickly realize she is, in fact, every bit a bitter bitch that you could imagine. She's not witty, or humorous, or easily amused, or even a real prankster. Deep down she's always thinking the lowest of everyone, and has simply decided to play along with "the game of social graces" to keep down the number of douchebags she has to fight on a daily basis.
- likes | being brutally honest, useful idiots, fighting - dislikes | jokes, irony, chit chat, social graces - goals | make right her one mistake, and get revenge on the one who also cost her so much - fears | going through life bumbling from one amusement to the other with no real achievements - strengths | able fighter, good at following orders, adaptable - weaknesses | hates almost everyone, can't cope wit guilt, holds grudges, judgemental, terrible leader - mental disorders | all raving queen of bitchatopia!
APPEARANCE |[/font] Rachel isn't very beautiful, which is probably a damn good thing. Ok, she isn't so ugly either. I'm certain that is she stopped scowling for just a fraction of a second, she could make someone's heart thump a bit faster, but that will never happen. Her coat is jet black, ever last hair. It's feel is thick and course, plenty warm for winer months. The shedding, however, makes me rather savage on bad days durring summer months. Her coat wraps around a (not so) lean and mean build. She's definitely hefty, for her breed, and she couldn't say that it's all muscle, but she's far from out of shape. A little extra weight, when used properly, just adds momentum to a attack, after all.
Finally we come to the single most boring aspect of her appearence: her eyes. Dark brown glass sits in her skull, not quite dull, but hardly twinkling. It's almost fascinating to see the light glint off of her eyes, to the effect that her ocular cavities are bottomless pits with a mysterious point of light shining through to the surface. Lastly, there is her unique gait. Unsure if it's a product of her military days, having to fit in with males, or both, Rachel doesn't question it's tactical advantages. She walks, well, quite butch. A shrug in her shoulders, and stiff in the hips. You could almost play a song along to the steady, strong beat of her swagger.
- height | 18" - weight | 75lbs. - fur colour | black - eye colour | very dark brown - scars | bullet wound on her stomach - noticeable features | none - physical disorders | childbaring will be hard, but not impossible HISTORY | [/font] It's a long story. I hope you've got a minute... Rachel was born a litter of six, but that's the boring stuff. After her father berated her into joining the force (her mother simply nodded and agreed with her brow beating mate), Rachel's life, from adolescence to service, became a blur of drills and training days. It wasn't until her final tour of duty - mankind's final tour of duty - that her real story would be written.
It was much like any other day on the front lines. The fight had been brought to the streets of the slums, as usual, and Rachel was, dare I say it, enjoying the adrenaline. Her partner, a human by the name of Trent, was like a cyborg. Rachel had never liked him, but then again, Rachel never liked anyone. Particularly not a certain K-9 by the name of Samson. The dog simply got under her skin. She couldn't be bothered to put her finger on just what it was about him that rubbed her the wrong way, but she had a serious distaste for the happy-go-lucky shepherd.
That day - a Tuesday, as she would strangely remember - brought it all to a head. There was bound to be more to her silent feud than she ever could have expected. Up until then, Samson and herself had simply shared passing glares, and suppressed growls at feeding times.
Mike and Samson, the dynamic duo, walked along the sides of the pale stone buildings. Home, small businesses, the like. Across the narrow road, Trent and Rachel stalked along, as well. They were like a pair of pairs, the light and the dark. Rachel had never pretended she didn't know which she was, herself.
The street narrowed as they went, soon becoming hardly more than an alleyway. Feeling boredom sink in, Rachel's attention kept turning to Samson. He just walked along, perfectly content as far as she could tell. It grated at her nerves like the incessant buzzing of an insect. Appearing playful, but certain that Samson would feel the disdain behind it, she kicked a pocket of dirt into his eye. He was disoriented, slightly blinded, and useless to his partner for a matter of seconds. The longest seconds of their lives.
Gunfire: it swallowed her awareness until nothing else existed. All she knew was gunfire, and soon her focus narrowed in on the attacker. Merely a few yards between his own body and the soldiers, but the canine's were useless. Mike - The fool! - reached out to his four legged partner. The attacked honed in on the distracted soldier, creating a distraction for Rachel's own partner that she never expected.
Trent dove into the street, eliminating the precious distance between himself and certain danger. He had to help Mike, his brother. Rachel's mind darted through the variables, the options overwhelmed her. Eventually all she knew was that Trent was her partner, that he was not acting on a cyborg should, and that it was her job to protect him. She ran, barking and snarling, into the attacker's path. The man with the gun was terrified of canines, and ran the other direction, suddenly deciding it just wasn't worth it. But, not before he could seal Rachel's bitter fate himself. An arrant bullet (he hadn't even meant to pull the trigger) his her in the side. Pressure, then tearing, and then pain. Just pain.
Rachel wakes every morning, feeling the ghost of that pain in her side. Everyone survived the day, but not everything. Whatever ounce of pride in living organisms she had before - lost. Where was she now? She roamed the streets she had fought to protect. She saw the "legacy" the humans had fought so hard to leave - that she had fought for. Now, what would she do with it? Her life was her legacy, and still no one would know what had ever been left behind. Still, she moves, and watches life tick on. She watches the canines and felines behave like the humans. Fighting for power, legacies. Silly creatures, then and now.
- season born | summer - place of birth | hexasol city, k9 training camp - family | none - memorable events | feuding with Samson, being shot to save her partner
SAMPLE | [/font] Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words. [/strike] - link to image of character | link - where did you find CR? | Through my pimp! B]
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Post by MudBug on Jan 6, 2012 19:37:02 GMT
RECH [/font] ------newborn - male - canine - akita x gsd - tempest - rank------[/center] PERSONALITY | [/font] Rech (reh-ck) lives up to his name. That is, if you take his to sound like a shortening of the word "reckless", which it is.
Rech is, indeed, reckless to the core. Even worse; not the fun kind of reckless. No, he's not just that guy who never turns down a game of chicken. He simply doesn't think of anyone but himself, and he's convinced he's a quicker thinker than he really is. Fast paced situations are his favorite. He'll never admit it, but he's addicted to adrenaline. Boring, day to day tasks depress him, literally. He is, however a problem solver. Whatever comes up, you can be certain that he will exhaust every possible solution, and even a few impossible ideas. This often means he'll come up with anything to make life more exciting.
In some ways, this casts Rech as quite the drama queen, but it only applys where action might be involved. He's not one for emotional connections, or even making many friends. He'll probably have one good companion, and the rest he will try to connect with, but putting himself first will always be his biggest flaw. Ironically, for someone so self centered, Rech doesn't know himself very well. He's regularly in deep denial about his flaws. If others point it out, he'll just turn the blame to something more subtantial - a particular event, for example.
Despite his lust for an everchanging, and fast paced life, every now and then something sticks to Rech's heart. When something does stick, he hardly notices. It's like developing a habit. As they say: You never know what you've got, 'till it's gone. This is something that comes back to bite Rech often. He'll likely spurn those he cares about, certain he doesn't really give a damn; he does, he just doesn't realize it.
Being so oblivious of himself, his own feelings, and the feelings of everyone else around him does have an upside: he pays great attention to all that's happening around him. Being emotionally MIA doesn't mean he can't assess the present situation. He's quite good at evaluating, and deciding what the next course of action should be. Unfortunately, when there's not a clear solution, his decision matrix can go rather haywire. Choices are hard for Rech. But, you can always count on him to make the most tactical decision, regardless of anyone's emotional issues.
His fears are sensible, but ironic, considering it seems he's his own worst enemy. He fears greatly that he'll outstrip everyone in the race of life. He doesn't really need to worry about this too much, but you'll never convince him of that. He's rather shortsighted at times, and this means he'll take off without even thinking where he's going. He won't think to look back and see if anyone else is keeping up, or if they could if they tried. He doesn't think he'd much care, but "the more the merrier" is quite true, whether he believes it, or not.
Despite being such a mess himself, Rech is pretty quick to tell you his own opinion of yourself. He has no problem being blunt, even when nobody asked for it. His least favorite personalities would have to be, well, some not-so-evil characters. He doesn't like thinkers, to put it simply. He doesn't like to think that you're ten steps ahead of him (and, perhaps, everyone else) in your mind. Many would just consider this to mean anyone who's got a hint of foresight, but Rech begs to differ. He doesn't trust geniuses, they've always got tricks up their sleeves. Rech doesn't trust actors, either. He thinks he's adequate at sniffing out dishonesty in someone, but every now and then he gets the nagging feeling that you're not what you say you are, but he just can't prove it, not even to himself. These types can make him taste stabbing, on a bad day.
- likes | living in the moment, trying new things, simple plans, honesty - dislikes | two faces, schemers, repetitive tasks - goals | have adventures, teach everyone to live in the moment - fears | going faster than everyone, being alone in his adventures - strengths | carelessly brave, self confident, attentive - weaknesses | reckless, selfish, manipulative, fickle, hypocrite - mental disorders | none
APPEARANCE |[/font] Rech is something of a runt. He's not sickly, or even particularly skinny, but he's definitely lacking in the height department. His build is average, not to be disproportionate with his lack of height.
He's not particularly strong, but speed is his gift. Agile, a good runner, even partial to try and climb a tree every now and then. If there's a jump to take, he'll take it, not one to be bested by trivial things like, say, gravity.
Rech's coat is pure black, every inch. Well, close to every inch. A few patches of white grow on his paws and chest. All over it grows short. Soft to the touch, but closely hugging his form.
Lastly, his eyes. A rather boring color, to be honest. His eyes are an ordinary brown, and not even particularly sparkly. This hardly stops him from having a permanent mischievous look on his face, however.
- height | 20" - weight | 55lbs. - fur colour | black (with white) - eye colour | brown - scars | none - noticeable features | none - physical disorders | hip dysplasia HISTORY | [/font] none
- season born | winter - place of birth | unknown - family | (fill this in later) - memorable events | n/a
SAMPLE | [/font] Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words. [/strike] - link to image of character | Pup- Maternity thread, Adult- link - where did you find CR? | In my mom's bed... Is there something you wanna tell me, CR? 9_9
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Post by MudBug on Jan 6, 2012 19:37:19 GMT
SHIFT [/font] ------newborn • male • feline • toyger x shorthair • loner • none------[/center] PERSONALITY | [/font] Shift is so average it hurts. Really, he has nightmares about how boring he is. It's not healthy. Born with the mixed personalities of a cynical, bitter mother, and an optimistic, gyroscope of a father, Shift was destined for mediocrity, clearly. The mixture of the personalities is almost dizzying to watch work, and even more difficult to explain. He's nothing to be proud of, or ashamed of. He just...is. Shift is, well, he's whatever he feels like at the moment. Shift plays parts, all parts, any parts.
One morning he might decide to be Scrouge in feline form. That afternoon, however, he could decide to transition into something out of a Legally Blonde movie. He doesn't think he has any personality of his own, so he becomes whatever he chooses, at random. There's no method to his madness. Every now and then he'll take on the role that he thinks best befits the situation, but that means the situation is up to his interpretation; not the best.
The brains behind the many faces of Shift is a solid one, albeit strange. He's not stupid, unless he decides to be. On the flip side, he's quite capable of being Sherlock Holmes at the drop of a hat. You never know what you're going to get. It can be quite frustrating, of course, to have to roll with the punches. Dealing with a creature who's character can change as rapidly as the weather is as frustrating as it is endlessly entertaining.
Of course, he must have at least some semblance of a personality of his own. He does, somewhere, deep, deep down. Shift's real personality is a mystery to everyone, even himself. He doesn't think about himself much. It doesn't leave much time for introspection when you're in a constant state of method acting. If he were to ever to actually stop and think about it, though, he'd come to the conclusion that he's as interesting as a wet box in a pile of leaves; wet leaves.
Still, he's not mean. If his mind is a bit slow to think of what part he wants to play at the moment, he just sort of stands around looking confused and/or bored. It's, well, it's pretty pitiful. He's actually a pretty creative soul, though. He's creative enough to break into spontaneous personalities, after all. He likes to see things grow and change. Unlike most young animals, change intrigues Shift. He likes to see things change and grow, develop.
Shift doesn't do well by himself. Well, he does, but not the usual definition of "well". He's not a good loner, but that's easily fixed. He's very talented, very talented. His talent, as mentioned before, is flipping personalities at the drop of a dime. This talent, when necessary, can be stretched to the brink. When left alone, Shift turns to none other than his many selves to entertain. Talking to himself is just par for the course, if you think about it.
• likes | playing "parts", watching change happen, talking to himself • dislikes | introspection, being alone, his boring self • goals | maybe, someday, develop his very own personality • fears | losing himself in one of his "roles" • strengths | creative, friendly, easily entertained • weaknesses | "spaced", a bit slow, never very serious • mental disorders | just kind of..eccentric
APPEARANCE |[/font] Shift is just so beautifully average. His coat is short and soft. The pattern is classic tabby, in all shades of brown. His muzzle is painted white, however. His build is average for a feline, something of a short husky fella. Husky, is, well, a nice word for fat, to be honest. Oh well, he's a tad fat. Life goes on.
His eyes are his best feature, of course. Got to have a shiny set of pearls in your face to enchant everyone with, as you pretend to be Jack Sparrow, running around the Hexasol Airport. His eyes are a bright amber color, almost golden. Big, perfectly round spheres, staring into your soul; where else is there to look?
Lastly there's...well...there's nothing. What is there to this cat? Nothing, absolutely nothing. I suppose I could mention his strange tendency to make exaggerated facial expressions as he plays his parts. It's a strange thing to imagine, really, but I'll give you an "A for effort".
• height | 14" • weight | 16lbs • fur colour | brown tabby • eye colour | yellow amber • scars | none • noticeable features | none • physical disorders | none HISTORY | [/font] none
• season born | winter • place of birth | hexasol (loner turf) • family | (later) • memorable events | n/a
SAMPLE | [/font] Write sample here (only for first applications). At least 200 words. [/s] • link to image of character | Kit - maternity thread, Cat - link • where did you find CR? | Just inches from going down the storm drain...
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Post by MudBug on Jan 20, 2012 8:42:55 GMT
PEN [/font] ------6yrs - female - canine - irish wolfhound - loner - none------[/center] PERSONALITY | [/font]
Pen is boring from an outside point of view, and, well, I suppose she's rather boring on the inside as well. She's not much of a competitor, killer, hunter, negotiator, leader, or anything of note. What is she good at? She's one hell of a watcher - that's pretty much it.
Pen observes; it's the only thing she's ever been very good at. As a pup she was the tracker, despite being a sight hound, or perhaps because of it, but not in the usual sense.
She's always had a talent for watching others' actions, habits, reactions, and predicting their movements based on what she notices. She's acutely focused on detail without even trying. It's something of a curse, at times; she is nearly incapable of seeing "the big picture" of any situation. Of course, she makes up for this with her intelligence in the mechanics of things. If she's part of your plan - which she's likely more than happy to be - she can't do much of the scheming, but she'll be the most productive grunt you've ever seen.
Pen is very keen on following. Leadership is a daunting thing, in her eyes, and only cut out for the most open minded, which she doe not consider herself to be. She just doesn't think much of herself in general, but not in the usual way of low self esteem. She spent a lot of her younger years thinking of herself, being concerned for herself, analyzing herself, and so on, and so forth. It got, well, boring. She knows herself inside out; no one will ever know her better.
That being said, she also knows everyone else quite well. Being an observer, nobody's actions escape her scrutiny. She isn't judgemental, just aware. It's almost like a hobby; think of bird watching, but with everyone she interacts with. Since she isn't the most outspoken, she'll often keep these opinions to herself, but if you ever ask her, you will get a rather spot on, detailed account of the truth.
Speaking of how spoken she is; Pen is surprisingly talkative, at times. It's a fifty-fifty toss up: whether or not you'll be able to get a lively conversation out of her. To put it simply, Pen treats conversation more like something with a purpose. The idea of "shooting the breeze" is just alien to her. If she enjoys your company, than the chat is serving a purpose - enjoyment. If she barely knows you, and has no real intention of remedying that, then light conversation is utterly pointless, and feels like a drain to Pen.
She does like to get to know others though. She's not a hermit, or anti-social, she's just rather awkward about the whole thing. It doesn't frighten her, or anything too drastic, she's just naturally not very good at it, and it's such a waffly concept. The fact that she can't get a clear image of exactely what it is that makes someone socially graceful frustrates her to no end.
She likes company, actually. Once you engage her, Pen is a simple girl, who's rather easily amused. She hates being lonely, but she doesn't see it as anyone's fault but her own. This is the one spot where she dislikes herself a great deal.
Even if she doesn't like it, being alone is evidently her fated lot in life. This has lead to the necessity of being rather self dependent. Pen doesn't like being a loner, but she's pretty good at it. She tries to remember this whent he opportunity for companionship presents itself, but it's hard to think past the voice in her head - or, rather, her heart - screaming for another soul to talk to. The voice of her heart almost always wins, and it doesn't let up once it's won, either. Pen is pretty clingy, if she thinks you don't hate the idea of her company. This is, of course, another struggle she has with herself, but not necessarily a struggle she frequently wins.
- likes | watching others, keeping her opinion to herself, following - dislikes | being in the spotlight, leading, lonliness, confrontation - goals | reunite with her siblings and live quietly - fears | being too quiet, being alone forever - strengths | keeps opinions to herself, clear headed, can take care of herself - weaknesses | freeloader, clingy, bottles feelings - mental disorders | none
APPEARANCE |[/font] It's yet another part of her that's understated by choice, but Pen is rather attractive for her breed.
Coat: Pen's coat is a long, coarse, sometimes wirey mesh of hairs of various shades. She hates it, actually, for it's length. She wishes for one of the shortly cropped pelts she sees on other canines, but no amount of scraping herself against rough tree bark can rid of her of her lockes. The color is most interesting. A palette of subtle tans, greys, and speckles of white throughout. She appears to be almost merle. The only places you'll find a solid patch is on her chest, and the tips of her toes where there's only stark white.
Build: Pen is built much like any other Irish Wolfhound. Leggy, thin, but still muscular. She looks right, aside from her smaller size. She's a considerable amount smaller than the average of her breed, even for a female. It's quite like someone simply shrank her, just a smidge.
Smaller Features: Pen's eyes are a light, honey brown color, and seem to always look interested. Her general expression is a look of heightened awareness, as you can imagine. Her ears are covered in mostly the darkest shade of brown to be found on her body. Her right ear sports a particular difference from the left: a bend at the top, like someone bent it over and ironed it into place, permanently.
- height | 28" - weight | 88lbs - fur colour | grey, white, tan - eye colour | brown - scars | none - noticeable features | small for her breed - physical disorders | none HISTORY | [/font] Write history here. At least 150 words.
- season born | early fall - place of birth | city outskirts - family | Brothers: Hephaestus & Thing 2 - memorable events | bonding with brothers, first time out hunting, losing Hephaestus, first kill
SAMPLE | [/font] Pen was born to be nameless, and it was a very long time before that changed. As a pup, she hadn't realized she was different. Her brothers hardly noticed either, but that would change soon enough.
The first time out hunting was, well, a humiliating mess. After only a few hours, Pen became vaguely aware of her backwards method of tracking. It wasn't inadequate, but rather different, and sure to draw attention. Attention was the last thing Pen wanted. What she wasn't yet aware of, was the fact that she would have been completely incapable of taking a kill.
Thankfully, she had the presence of mind to not give away her darkest secret instantly. When asked how she could let the biggest kill of the day slip through her paws, she simply blamed it on an arrant insect in her eye. It was a lame excuse, but all she had. One of her brothers, Hephaestus, only sighed, and proclaimed that they'd get him tomorrow. Her other brother, however, wasn't nearly so forgiving. The birth of a grudge.
Many a hunting trip later, Pen was loved by one of her brothers, and hated by the other. Hephaestus was her favorite, for obvious reasons. He was always nice to her, and seemed politely ignorant of her . . . ineptitude. The other, unfortunately, would not tolerate her failure.
As luck, or a lack thereof, would have it, Hephaestus was torn from her life without any warning. Pen, at first, had no idea how to cope with this turn of events, and took to copious amounts of solitude, and shutting out the world almost completely. The brother she was left with only pretended not to mind. Pen knew the truth, and he hated her more with each passing day. She slowly came to realize that, given the way they tossed Hephaestus away like a perishable soul, her sulking attitude would only land her the same fate.
Just as she made up her mind to put her loss behind her - it struck again. Their master was gone, and so was everyone else. Pen and her brother woke to find him laying in a pile of hay, with a blank stare on his face, and empty eyes. Unsure of what to do, and more terrified than she had ever thought possible, Pen looked to her brother.
He, of course, was callous enough to declare them free, and take off for the woods. Pen attempted to follow, but he wouldn't have it. Instead of making her presence known, Pen only crept along his trail, hoping he'd never realize. She couldn't bare the thought of being completely alone. It didn't take long though for him to notice in the days that followed. It nearly came down the a fight, but, of course, Pen backed down before it became physical.
Completely alone, with no one else to rely on - no scraps of kills to come behind and finish, Pen had to face the thought of killing for herself. She decided to start small, and hunted a rodent. The rush of the kill frightened her, at first, but she was able to contain herself long enough to take care in skinning the animal for eating. The meat had a strange bitter taste, but she couldn't deny the necessity of it. She spent the rest of that evening tirelessly justifying herself in the circle of life.
- link to image of character | link W where did you find CR? | In Santa's gift bag! One little armed robbery, and the jerk put a restraining order on me. Anal much?
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