Post by Cersei on Oct 18, 2011 5:18:07 GMT -5
Name: Cersei
Alias: N/A
Gender: Female.
Age: 3 yrs
Birthdate: 2028 October 3
Species: Dog.
Breed: Ibizan Hound
Purebred: Yes.
Pack: Loner.
Height: 28"
Weight: 60lbs
Build: Tall and lean, Cersei's build betrays nothing of her heritage. Her legs are long and slender, her chest narrow but deep. Her neck is as lithe as the rest of her, holding up a rather delicate looking head. Naturally athletic, she is ever so slightly underweight, but not dangerously so. Her paws are small and shaped like that of a hare's, giving her better traction when running. At her rear stands a long, narrow tail, that curls in a sickle shape when held firm; when let slack, only the tip curves. Even glancing at her, Cersei has the obvious features of a purebred Ibizan.
Coat: Short and thin; standard for a hound built for speed and agility in warmer climates. Her fur conforms to every rise and fall on her body, concealing no scars she may have or might ever have, and doing nothing for her should rain or snow fall. The only amount of feathering or longer hair on her body occurs along her tail, where an odd bit of bush is added to her fur.
Pertaining to her markings, Cersei has a higher white content than most red and Irish white Ibizans. Her head and neck are entirely white, giving her a hood of sorts. Her chest, belly, and front paws are also white. Her back legs hold asymetrical white markings, leaving her left hind leg with a mark similar to a cat on it. The only other color on her body is a light red, sitting neatly in the middle of the Ibizan coat color spectrum.
Head: Being a purebred Ibizan, Cersei has a head resembling that of a hound and a deer crossed. Her muzzle is regal, being long and slender with a slightly pointed tip. Her ears are naturally prick, and quite large. Very expressive, where her face may give off no hints to her emotions, her ears often give her away. Having a relatively narrow head, it is obvious from looking at her that her strength lies not with her bite, but with her sights.
Eyes: Cersei's eyes are small and round, beady and calculating. Whereas a typical Ibizan's eyes are stern, if elegant, her's give a more devious look to them. A shade of greyish green, they aren't the standard gold, yet unremarkable regardless.
Scars: None, so far.
Accessories: None, so far.
Pictures: Ref Sheet
Speed: High.
Stamina: Above average.
Strength: Below average.
Fighting: Average.
Strengths: -Fast
-Nimble
-Intelligent
-Skilled at surviving alone
-Acute sense of hearing
-Strong vision
-Well suited for hot temperatures
Weaknesses: -Relatively weak
-Quick tempered; Can be easily blinded by anger
-Unwilling to work with others
-Greedy
-Foul mouthed
-No tolerance for cold or wet
-Narcissistic
Personality: Cersei's personality suits her perfectly for being forever alone. She is a hardy creature, having learned from a young age how to take care of herself and how to survive without anyone else's care but her own. It has come to a point where she outright prefers to go about things by her lonesome. Being a purebred among so many mutts, she finds herself feeling isolated, surrounded by simple minded beasts with so many different bloods swirling through their veins. She feels she cannot trust them, and often finds herself leaving any company she finds rather quickly. She will stay to catch up on any news, yes, but nothing more. Press her to stay or try to follow her, and her temper is likely to flare.
That temper is what more often than not gets Cersei into trouble. While very fast and agile, she has little to no physical strength with which to beat others off or away. If it's smaller than her, her chances are still not good. But that doesn't stop her from mouthing off; and mouth off she does. When angered, or even when in semi-pleasant conversation, Cersei has a foul mouth. She swears, curses, and generally does her best to insult others without trying or even noticing. Point it out to her and it only gets worse, as then you'd likely have annoyed her.
While generally Cersei is pretty quick of wit, when she's in a bad mood or already sent into a rage, she loses sense of herself. Logic, planning, and thinking altogether seems to melt away, leaving her acting solely on instinct. Should it come to a fight, she'll still run away if her odds aren't golden, but not without slinging even more insults and possibly digging her own grave first.
Yet when even in a good mood, Cersei isn't too pleasant to be around. At least, not for most others. She is narcissistic to a level few ever fully understand. Most won't realize it at first, but everything about her appearance is well kept, and she guards herself from bodily harm as best she can. Only fueling the love she feels for herself, however, is her greed. If there is ever something Cersei wants, she'll opt to take the slimiest way she can to get it. It makes her feel even more self important to be surrounded and adorned with things she finds pretty or that she likes. This greed applies to all manner of things, from food, bits of cloth, maybe a stuffed animal, to the odd occasion of another animal she finds herself attached to. Usually the obsession is quick to burn out, but it rarely vanishes without leaving some impact on the victim it falls upon.
Fears: -Being scarred/Losing her beauty
-Humans
-Capture
Family: Aerys;Mother-Deceased
Rickon;Father-Alive
Tomak;Brother-Alive
History: Cersei grew up with just her mother, her father, her brother, and herself. She never knew a master, nor any other siblings or family other than the ones that traveled with her. Her parents never spoke of how they came to be purebred, or how they had come together to produce purebred pups themselves, and Cersei simply never asked. Having never been a part of a pack themselves, her parents stuck together as loners, and taught their only two children how to do so as well.
Not terribly kind nor horribly abusive, the best way to describe how Cersei remembered her parents was 'distant'. They were unusually quiet. They fed and cared for their children, and saw to it that they understood the dangers of the world, even as it still lay crumbling around them. They told them stories of how it used to be, but never explained how they fit into that picture. The past was in the past, they often said, and that they had more important things to focus on in the here and now.
Needless to say, Cersei's childhood was uneventful. Her brother proved to be a nasty influence, however, serving only to be the troublemaker of the family and gifting his only sister with such a wide vocabulary of curses. He left at the same time Cersei did, but going in the opposite direction. Having set out on her own at the age of two, she hasn't seen or heard of her family since then; not that she particularly cares.
Played by: Gat
Role Play Sample: Koen was fucked. Hopelessly fucked. No sooner had he popped through his hole into the bright and shining world had he been swarmed by KG. His eyes flitted back and forth as he tried to count them all. One...two....three...what came after three? He didn't know. Strays prided themselves on street smarts, not book smarts. What he did know, however, was that his odds were looking more and more dire.
Many came over to tell the relatively small in comparison KG to leave him alone; to which his head snapped up and down in small rotations at lightning speed. Yes, yes, do bugger off and let me raid your stores! It would be most kind if you did hold the door open, though. Yet it seemed as if they were all too low of rank to even comprehend the power she held. As the word General rolled off her tongue, Koen felt his blood go cold. His eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, his ears pinning back. If they could hear him over their own bickering, they might have heard his bowels loosen.
What part of this seemed like a good idea in the first place? Koen struggled to remember. All he could see in his mind's eye was his throat and limbs and entrails being torn apart and strewn about by the various monsters that surrounded him. He was pinned; they had boxed him in against the fence, his only escape the tunnel he had dug, and only if he could get through it without making it collapse before they caught him, and even then he'd have to try to lose them in the city somewhere. The magic of the if word had suddenly turned sour.
Picking himself up off the ground, Koen shook his fur out. Running wasn't really his strong suit anyways, perhaps he could try a different tactic...
His fur now tousled but dashingly styled, Koen smiled in a charming manner at the large group he had attracted. His blue eyes, however, focused mainly on this General. He was a well known heart breaker among the strays of the city, but would his charms work on a KG? It seemed his only option at that point. Even if it didn't get his freedom, it would buy him a bit more time on this earth. He could say his goodbyes to all that he loved, like the sand....and the dirt.
My apologies, General Ricochet. He began, a light breeze toying with his feathered mop of fur. If his roguish good looks had ever had a use before, he needed it now more than ever. On top of that, he had to think up a story, and think of one quick. Why shouldn't they kill him? He was much too handsome. Koen was too pretty to die!
As much as he liked to think that, the stray knew it would never hold as an argument. Some dogs just couldn't see the true value behind beauty. I assure you I'm no spy; just a meek little mutt come with a proposition. He laughed lightly as he spoke, trying to break the nervous tension that filled his body. His voice was deep, but still remarkably soft; he was still young, and nothing told that story better than his voice. Perhaps if you can stave off your mob, he said, his charming smile still present as his eyes looked around at them all with mild contempt, I could prove to you how I can be of use.
His gaze then turned back to Ricochet, one of the smallest KG Koen had ever seen, and yet still so much larger than himself. She was quite pretty, if one looked past the raging bitch face she put on. At the mention of a certain someone missing her, the expression she held shifted. It was ever so slight, and while the emotion was still cold fury, Koen could almost see her wince. His curiosity gnawed at him, but he held back the questions that wanted to be brought out. Hidden pain was best kept hidden till its owner decided to let it surface, or until happenstance forced it into the light. Yet the more that pain sat, the more it festered. And the more of herself she loses to that anger. He thought, still flashing her a dashing smile.
Alias: N/A
Gender: Female.
Age: 3 yrs
Birthdate: 2028 October 3
Species: Dog.
Breed: Ibizan Hound
Purebred: Yes.
Pack: Loner.
Height: 28"
Weight: 60lbs
Build: Tall and lean, Cersei's build betrays nothing of her heritage. Her legs are long and slender, her chest narrow but deep. Her neck is as lithe as the rest of her, holding up a rather delicate looking head. Naturally athletic, she is ever so slightly underweight, but not dangerously so. Her paws are small and shaped like that of a hare's, giving her better traction when running. At her rear stands a long, narrow tail, that curls in a sickle shape when held firm; when let slack, only the tip curves. Even glancing at her, Cersei has the obvious features of a purebred Ibizan.
Coat: Short and thin; standard for a hound built for speed and agility in warmer climates. Her fur conforms to every rise and fall on her body, concealing no scars she may have or might ever have, and doing nothing for her should rain or snow fall. The only amount of feathering or longer hair on her body occurs along her tail, where an odd bit of bush is added to her fur.
Pertaining to her markings, Cersei has a higher white content than most red and Irish white Ibizans. Her head and neck are entirely white, giving her a hood of sorts. Her chest, belly, and front paws are also white. Her back legs hold asymetrical white markings, leaving her left hind leg with a mark similar to a cat on it. The only other color on her body is a light red, sitting neatly in the middle of the Ibizan coat color spectrum.
Head: Being a purebred Ibizan, Cersei has a head resembling that of a hound and a deer crossed. Her muzzle is regal, being long and slender with a slightly pointed tip. Her ears are naturally prick, and quite large. Very expressive, where her face may give off no hints to her emotions, her ears often give her away. Having a relatively narrow head, it is obvious from looking at her that her strength lies not with her bite, but with her sights.
Eyes: Cersei's eyes are small and round, beady and calculating. Whereas a typical Ibizan's eyes are stern, if elegant, her's give a more devious look to them. A shade of greyish green, they aren't the standard gold, yet unremarkable regardless.
Scars: None, so far.
Accessories: None, so far.
Pictures: Ref Sheet
Speed: High.
Stamina: Above average.
Strength: Below average.
Fighting: Average.
Strengths: -Fast
-Nimble
-Intelligent
-Skilled at surviving alone
-Acute sense of hearing
-Strong vision
-Well suited for hot temperatures
Weaknesses: -Relatively weak
-Quick tempered; Can be easily blinded by anger
-Unwilling to work with others
-Greedy
-Foul mouthed
-No tolerance for cold or wet
-Narcissistic
Personality: Cersei's personality suits her perfectly for being forever alone. She is a hardy creature, having learned from a young age how to take care of herself and how to survive without anyone else's care but her own. It has come to a point where she outright prefers to go about things by her lonesome. Being a purebred among so many mutts, she finds herself feeling isolated, surrounded by simple minded beasts with so many different bloods swirling through their veins. She feels she cannot trust them, and often finds herself leaving any company she finds rather quickly. She will stay to catch up on any news, yes, but nothing more. Press her to stay or try to follow her, and her temper is likely to flare.
That temper is what more often than not gets Cersei into trouble. While very fast and agile, she has little to no physical strength with which to beat others off or away. If it's smaller than her, her chances are still not good. But that doesn't stop her from mouthing off; and mouth off she does. When angered, or even when in semi-pleasant conversation, Cersei has a foul mouth. She swears, curses, and generally does her best to insult others without trying or even noticing. Point it out to her and it only gets worse, as then you'd likely have annoyed her.
While generally Cersei is pretty quick of wit, when she's in a bad mood or already sent into a rage, she loses sense of herself. Logic, planning, and thinking altogether seems to melt away, leaving her acting solely on instinct. Should it come to a fight, she'll still run away if her odds aren't golden, but not without slinging even more insults and possibly digging her own grave first.
Yet when even in a good mood, Cersei isn't too pleasant to be around. At least, not for most others. She is narcissistic to a level few ever fully understand. Most won't realize it at first, but everything about her appearance is well kept, and she guards herself from bodily harm as best she can. Only fueling the love she feels for herself, however, is her greed. If there is ever something Cersei wants, she'll opt to take the slimiest way she can to get it. It makes her feel even more self important to be surrounded and adorned with things she finds pretty or that she likes. This greed applies to all manner of things, from food, bits of cloth, maybe a stuffed animal, to the odd occasion of another animal she finds herself attached to. Usually the obsession is quick to burn out, but it rarely vanishes without leaving some impact on the victim it falls upon.
Fears: -Being scarred/Losing her beauty
-Humans
-Capture
Family: Aerys;Mother-Deceased
Rickon;Father-Alive
Tomak;Brother-Alive
History: Cersei grew up with just her mother, her father, her brother, and herself. She never knew a master, nor any other siblings or family other than the ones that traveled with her. Her parents never spoke of how they came to be purebred, or how they had come together to produce purebred pups themselves, and Cersei simply never asked. Having never been a part of a pack themselves, her parents stuck together as loners, and taught their only two children how to do so as well.
Not terribly kind nor horribly abusive, the best way to describe how Cersei remembered her parents was 'distant'. They were unusually quiet. They fed and cared for their children, and saw to it that they understood the dangers of the world, even as it still lay crumbling around them. They told them stories of how it used to be, but never explained how they fit into that picture. The past was in the past, they often said, and that they had more important things to focus on in the here and now.
Needless to say, Cersei's childhood was uneventful. Her brother proved to be a nasty influence, however, serving only to be the troublemaker of the family and gifting his only sister with such a wide vocabulary of curses. He left at the same time Cersei did, but going in the opposite direction. Having set out on her own at the age of two, she hasn't seen or heard of her family since then; not that she particularly cares.
Played by: Gat
Role Play Sample: Koen was fucked. Hopelessly fucked. No sooner had he popped through his hole into the bright and shining world had he been swarmed by KG. His eyes flitted back and forth as he tried to count them all. One...two....three...what came after three? He didn't know. Strays prided themselves on street smarts, not book smarts. What he did know, however, was that his odds were looking more and more dire.
Many came over to tell the relatively small in comparison KG to leave him alone; to which his head snapped up and down in small rotations at lightning speed. Yes, yes, do bugger off and let me raid your stores! It would be most kind if you did hold the door open, though. Yet it seemed as if they were all too low of rank to even comprehend the power she held. As the word General rolled off her tongue, Koen felt his blood go cold. His eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, his ears pinning back. If they could hear him over their own bickering, they might have heard his bowels loosen.
What part of this seemed like a good idea in the first place? Koen struggled to remember. All he could see in his mind's eye was his throat and limbs and entrails being torn apart and strewn about by the various monsters that surrounded him. He was pinned; they had boxed him in against the fence, his only escape the tunnel he had dug, and only if he could get through it without making it collapse before they caught him, and even then he'd have to try to lose them in the city somewhere. The magic of the if word had suddenly turned sour.
Picking himself up off the ground, Koen shook his fur out. Running wasn't really his strong suit anyways, perhaps he could try a different tactic...
His fur now tousled but dashingly styled, Koen smiled in a charming manner at the large group he had attracted. His blue eyes, however, focused mainly on this General. He was a well known heart breaker among the strays of the city, but would his charms work on a KG? It seemed his only option at that point. Even if it didn't get his freedom, it would buy him a bit more time on this earth. He could say his goodbyes to all that he loved, like the sand....and the dirt.
My apologies, General Ricochet. He began, a light breeze toying with his feathered mop of fur. If his roguish good looks had ever had a use before, he needed it now more than ever. On top of that, he had to think up a story, and think of one quick. Why shouldn't they kill him? He was much too handsome. Koen was too pretty to die!
As much as he liked to think that, the stray knew it would never hold as an argument. Some dogs just couldn't see the true value behind beauty. I assure you I'm no spy; just a meek little mutt come with a proposition. He laughed lightly as he spoke, trying to break the nervous tension that filled his body. His voice was deep, but still remarkably soft; he was still young, and nothing told that story better than his voice. Perhaps if you can stave off your mob, he said, his charming smile still present as his eyes looked around at them all with mild contempt, I could prove to you how I can be of use.
His gaze then turned back to Ricochet, one of the smallest KG Koen had ever seen, and yet still so much larger than himself. She was quite pretty, if one looked past the raging bitch face she put on. At the mention of a certain someone missing her, the expression she held shifted. It was ever so slight, and while the emotion was still cold fury, Koen could almost see her wince. His curiosity gnawed at him, but he held back the questions that wanted to be brought out. Hidden pain was best kept hidden till its owner decided to let it surface, or until happenstance forced it into the light. Yet the more that pain sat, the more it festered. And the more of herself she loses to that anger. He thought, still flashing her a dashing smile.