Post by Albion on Jul 8, 2011 5:54:07 GMT -5
Name: Albion
Alias: n/a
Gender: Male.
Age: Five
Birthdate: Summer 2125
Species: Dog.
Breed: Lurcher mongrel [Afghan x Sloughi x Malinois + Saluki x Koolie]
Purebred: No.
Pack: Loner.
Height: 70cm
Weight: 25kg
Build: He has the general build of a sight hound cross. His muzzle is long, neck slender and slightly curved when held upright. He has an extremely deep chest, typical of dogs of his type. His ribs are easily visible, as well as hipbones -- backbone depending on how malnourished he is at the time. He has thin legs and small, compact paws. His tail is long, carried slightly curled at times, with feathering.
Coat: His coat colour can be described as 'red grizzle' in terms of sight hound breeds. A dark seal base colour, with light red points, face, and neck. The red fades into a lighter cream; his muzzle is mostly cream, outlined with red, and the bridge of his nose is seal. His ears follow the same sort of pattern -- cream, red, and then seal.
The majority of his coat is smooth, and he bears feathering on his legs and tail as well. The feathering is a lighter cream, almost white, with a silky texture. His belly has a slight pinkish tone to it.
Head: A typical dolichocephalic face, drop ears set high on his head, triangular eyes, and exaggerated cheek bones. His muzzle is slender, his nose leather black, as well as his lips. The dome of his skull is well rounded, and his ear feathering extends to his cheeks.
Eyes: His eyes are triangular in shape, their colour being somewhere in between a light brown and amber.
Scars: He has a few scars scattered over his body; legs and neck primarily, but fur has grown back over them with time. They're barely visible now.
Accessories: n/a
Pictures: Click
Speed: High.
Stamina: Average.
Strength: Below average.
Fighting: Below average.
Strengths: Albion is extremely agile, thanks to his sight hound lineage. His long legs provide a gait that covers ground in a relatively short amount of time, making traveling much easier, and he has generally high energy, allowing him the stamina to not need to stop frequently, depending on how much he's recently had to eat.
Due to the shape of his head, he has a high field of vision, also aiding with hunting as well as watching out for anything that could be dangerous to him.
Weaknesses: Because of his lithe build and lack of any real muscle tone, he's absolute rubbish at any sort of fighting. He has an insatiable prey drive, and due to instinct, he has little control over it, which means he might dart out to a squirrel or rabbit even if it means exposing himself to a threat. Although he has long feathering, the rest of his single-layered coat is quite short, leaving him extremely weak in colder conditions, especially when there's snow or ice.
Personality: Albion is a creature of cunning, deception, and distrust. If he were to encounter a strange dog, he'd most likely stand his ground for a bit, observing and calculating some sort of logical (in his mind, anyway; his choices are not always logical in the true sense) decision for the situation. Most larger breeds than himself seemed, and he avoided them at all cost. His first instinct would be to make an escape -- but if he were unable to, it's where his guise of being the poor, defenseless dog would come into play.
Because of his lack of strength, he prefers to use words to weasel his way out of unsavory situations. He might start off with simple questions, trying to work out in his head the best way to get himself away, or perhaps even take advantage of them. With a dog larger or fiercer than himself, he might submit to them, sneaking away when he had a chance. With smaller breeds, or even females, he'd appear timid, perhaps even a bit friendly, hoping to take advantage of a stranger's kindness, as it's gotten him free meals in the past.
He has no particular hatred toward humans, but is extremely wary around them. If confronted by a human, his first instinct is usually to flee as quickly as possible; and if that doesn't work, retaliation is his second option.
Fears: Direct confrontation, combat (with both dogs and humans), machinery, snow/ice storms, snakes.
Family: Sire- Haze [sloughi cross], deceased [confirmed]
Dam- Janis [saluki cross], deceased [unconfirmed]
Siblings- doesn't remember them, whereabouts unknown.
History: Born in the summer of 2125, Albion lived the life of a hunting dog until he was abandoned by his owners.
Birthed on a small plot of land a good ways away from modern civilization, his humans owned both his sire and dam. They'd been breeding lurchers for years as hunting animals, known for their excellent ability to run down small game, making them extremely useful in a world where food was growing scarce. However, even small game had begun to thin in numbers, and the humans could no longer afford to keep as many dogs as they did.
Albion's litter contained six pups, three of which were culled at birth, the other two sold for profit to a farmer nearby who had still managed to keep a small herd of goats on his property [Albion's pastoral lineage aided in this, his siblings would have possibly been used for herding]. Albion himself was quick to learn his intended job, his instincts taking over when he was a mere six months old, resulting in him running down a rabbit that had unfortunately made its way too close outside of his owners home.
Fall of 2128. Albion's sire had become increasingly human aggressive, and was culled. Reports of the virus had begun to reach his area, and the humans had chosen to live away from city life became even more disillusioned with society. Talk of a small commune even deeper in the wilderness caught the attention of Albion's owners, and it wasn't too long before they quickly packed all important belongings and said their goodbyes to the place they had called home for so long.
They only owned two dogs at the time, Albion and his dam. The rest had all disappeared; with the lack of game to be seen around, many rural people had begun to slaughter their pets for food, including their horses and dogs. The sickly sweet scent of singed fur and something gamey could sometimes be caught coming from the humans' home, as their kennels quickly became empty. As the humans packed their things, they received information that no animals were allowed at the commune, as they had been known to carry the virus.
As they left their home, they let Albion loose on the side of a highway, removing his collar and any trace if him having owners. His dam, however, was still with them. It's unknown where she ended up -- the drive to the commune was long, perhaps she'd been taken to be eaten along the way. Now alone, the lurcher hadn't a clue as to where he should go.
Hills distorted the view of the horizon in one direction, the direction where he had come from; he knew it lead to home, but he'd never been anywhere past it. In the direction his owners drove, the edge of a fairly wooded area could be seen; wooded areas usually contained larger wild animals, animals who liked to eat dogs.
Summer of 2130. Albion has managed to survive on his own, seeking out the few small animals that remained as prey. Wandering about aimlessly, he'd discovered the outskirts of a city, lured in by its strange scents and occasional familiar howling. Perhaps he could find food there? The only way to find out would be to further investigate.
Played by: Blau
Role Play Sample: [okay, this original sample was like 900 words long, so i cut it in half. also, warcraft related. FORGIVE ME.]
A voice rang through the trees, the accent almost familiar to the now exceedingly curious cat-like figure. Raising a brow, he sat on his haunches once again, assuming the stranger couldn't possibly pose much of a threat.
"I swear, tha' bloody elf sent me here jus' t'get me lo-"
The blundering stranger made his way through the underbrush, stumbling into a small clearing as he tripped over one of the many roots scattered in the ground, landing flat on his face in front of the feline. Attempting to stifle a gruff laugh, the cat quickly redirected the guttural tone into a growl, standing on all fours as his amber eyes stared intently at the stranger lying before him.
The odd beast was not a particularly gangly looking fellow, as many of his type were; in fact, he seemed a tad bigger around the waist than most. His accent gave his origins away-- it was the thick accent of a Gilnean, and judging by the wolfish face, grey coloured fur and imposing teeth, it was obvious he'd been inflicted with the curse. Muttered curses muffled by his sleeve as he wiped dirt from his face, he quickly scrambled back onto his feet; he was now displaying an almost defensive manner, ears folded back harshly on his head, his blue eyes locked onto the feline standing before him.
"Erm... I ain't 'ere t' 'urt you, jus'... Lost my way, 's all. I'll be on my way, soon enough."
The cat raised a brow yet again, instinctively tilting his head at the curious stranger, contemplating whether or not he should respond. Being the sort of person he was-- that is, one who had studied Druidism, he had experienced first hand the varied reactions of those who found themselves ultimately having a conversation with what appeared to be just an odd jungle cat.
"... Right-o. I gathered that myself, that you weren't here to harm anything... As much noise as you make, I'd think everything would have fled the area EONS before you showed. Or, well, the ones that aren't interested in making a meal out of you, anyway." He spoke after a moment of pause, a slight sarcastic tone rising in his voice.
The now apparent Worgen blinked, crossing his arms as the beast spoke, nodding a bit. "Cheeky bloke, ain't you? An' a Druid, I take it. Unless I've finally gone mad and I'm speakin' to a real cat..." A sly smirk appeared across his face, his muscles relaxing a bit as he realized that the stranger did not post much of a threat. "Wilbury, at your service, Brotha! Always cheery t'meet a fellow Druid aroun' these parts, considerin' most of 'em hang aroun' Teldrassil now."
The feline furrowed his brow, amusing himself with the thought that this Worgen would be so quick to introduce himself, particularly in an area that was not nearly as friendly to his kind as other parts of the continent. "Studied in Moonglade, myself... Dreadful place, sodding GREEN everywhere." He nodded a bit, introducing himself with a hint of overly exaggerated self importance in his voice. "Staffordshire. The only name you need to know."
Alias: n/a
Gender: Male.
Age: Five
Birthdate: Summer 2125
Species: Dog.
Breed: Lurcher mongrel [Afghan x Sloughi x Malinois + Saluki x Koolie]
Purebred: No.
Pack: Loner.
Height: 70cm
Weight: 25kg
Build: He has the general build of a sight hound cross. His muzzle is long, neck slender and slightly curved when held upright. He has an extremely deep chest, typical of dogs of his type. His ribs are easily visible, as well as hipbones -- backbone depending on how malnourished he is at the time. He has thin legs and small, compact paws. His tail is long, carried slightly curled at times, with feathering.
Coat: His coat colour can be described as 'red grizzle' in terms of sight hound breeds. A dark seal base colour, with light red points, face, and neck. The red fades into a lighter cream; his muzzle is mostly cream, outlined with red, and the bridge of his nose is seal. His ears follow the same sort of pattern -- cream, red, and then seal.
The majority of his coat is smooth, and he bears feathering on his legs and tail as well. The feathering is a lighter cream, almost white, with a silky texture. His belly has a slight pinkish tone to it.
Head: A typical dolichocephalic face, drop ears set high on his head, triangular eyes, and exaggerated cheek bones. His muzzle is slender, his nose leather black, as well as his lips. The dome of his skull is well rounded, and his ear feathering extends to his cheeks.
Eyes: His eyes are triangular in shape, their colour being somewhere in between a light brown and amber.
Scars: He has a few scars scattered over his body; legs and neck primarily, but fur has grown back over them with time. They're barely visible now.
Accessories: n/a
Pictures: Click
Speed: High.
Stamina: Average.
Strength: Below average.
Fighting: Below average.
Strengths: Albion is extremely agile, thanks to his sight hound lineage. His long legs provide a gait that covers ground in a relatively short amount of time, making traveling much easier, and he has generally high energy, allowing him the stamina to not need to stop frequently, depending on how much he's recently had to eat.
Due to the shape of his head, he has a high field of vision, also aiding with hunting as well as watching out for anything that could be dangerous to him.
Weaknesses: Because of his lithe build and lack of any real muscle tone, he's absolute rubbish at any sort of fighting. He has an insatiable prey drive, and due to instinct, he has little control over it, which means he might dart out to a squirrel or rabbit even if it means exposing himself to a threat. Although he has long feathering, the rest of his single-layered coat is quite short, leaving him extremely weak in colder conditions, especially when there's snow or ice.
Personality: Albion is a creature of cunning, deception, and distrust. If he were to encounter a strange dog, he'd most likely stand his ground for a bit, observing and calculating some sort of logical (in his mind, anyway; his choices are not always logical in the true sense) decision for the situation. Most larger breeds than himself seemed, and he avoided them at all cost. His first instinct would be to make an escape -- but if he were unable to, it's where his guise of being the poor, defenseless dog would come into play.
Because of his lack of strength, he prefers to use words to weasel his way out of unsavory situations. He might start off with simple questions, trying to work out in his head the best way to get himself away, or perhaps even take advantage of them. With a dog larger or fiercer than himself, he might submit to them, sneaking away when he had a chance. With smaller breeds, or even females, he'd appear timid, perhaps even a bit friendly, hoping to take advantage of a stranger's kindness, as it's gotten him free meals in the past.
He has no particular hatred toward humans, but is extremely wary around them. If confronted by a human, his first instinct is usually to flee as quickly as possible; and if that doesn't work, retaliation is his second option.
Fears: Direct confrontation, combat (with both dogs and humans), machinery, snow/ice storms, snakes.
Family: Sire- Haze [sloughi cross], deceased [confirmed]
Dam- Janis [saluki cross], deceased [unconfirmed]
Siblings- doesn't remember them, whereabouts unknown.
History: Born in the summer of 2125, Albion lived the life of a hunting dog until he was abandoned by his owners.
Birthed on a small plot of land a good ways away from modern civilization, his humans owned both his sire and dam. They'd been breeding lurchers for years as hunting animals, known for their excellent ability to run down small game, making them extremely useful in a world where food was growing scarce. However, even small game had begun to thin in numbers, and the humans could no longer afford to keep as many dogs as they did.
Albion's litter contained six pups, three of which were culled at birth, the other two sold for profit to a farmer nearby who had still managed to keep a small herd of goats on his property [Albion's pastoral lineage aided in this, his siblings would have possibly been used for herding]. Albion himself was quick to learn his intended job, his instincts taking over when he was a mere six months old, resulting in him running down a rabbit that had unfortunately made its way too close outside of his owners home.
Fall of 2128. Albion's sire had become increasingly human aggressive, and was culled. Reports of the virus had begun to reach his area, and the humans had chosen to live away from city life became even more disillusioned with society. Talk of a small commune even deeper in the wilderness caught the attention of Albion's owners, and it wasn't too long before they quickly packed all important belongings and said their goodbyes to the place they had called home for so long.
They only owned two dogs at the time, Albion and his dam. The rest had all disappeared; with the lack of game to be seen around, many rural people had begun to slaughter their pets for food, including their horses and dogs. The sickly sweet scent of singed fur and something gamey could sometimes be caught coming from the humans' home, as their kennels quickly became empty. As the humans packed their things, they received information that no animals were allowed at the commune, as they had been known to carry the virus.
As they left their home, they let Albion loose on the side of a highway, removing his collar and any trace if him having owners. His dam, however, was still with them. It's unknown where she ended up -- the drive to the commune was long, perhaps she'd been taken to be eaten along the way. Now alone, the lurcher hadn't a clue as to where he should go.
Hills distorted the view of the horizon in one direction, the direction where he had come from; he knew it lead to home, but he'd never been anywhere past it. In the direction his owners drove, the edge of a fairly wooded area could be seen; wooded areas usually contained larger wild animals, animals who liked to eat dogs.
Summer of 2130. Albion has managed to survive on his own, seeking out the few small animals that remained as prey. Wandering about aimlessly, he'd discovered the outskirts of a city, lured in by its strange scents and occasional familiar howling. Perhaps he could find food there? The only way to find out would be to further investigate.
Played by: Blau
Role Play Sample: [okay, this original sample was like 900 words long, so i cut it in half. also, warcraft related. FORGIVE ME.]
A voice rang through the trees, the accent almost familiar to the now exceedingly curious cat-like figure. Raising a brow, he sat on his haunches once again, assuming the stranger couldn't possibly pose much of a threat.
"I swear, tha' bloody elf sent me here jus' t'get me lo-"
The blundering stranger made his way through the underbrush, stumbling into a small clearing as he tripped over one of the many roots scattered in the ground, landing flat on his face in front of the feline. Attempting to stifle a gruff laugh, the cat quickly redirected the guttural tone into a growl, standing on all fours as his amber eyes stared intently at the stranger lying before him.
The odd beast was not a particularly gangly looking fellow, as many of his type were; in fact, he seemed a tad bigger around the waist than most. His accent gave his origins away-- it was the thick accent of a Gilnean, and judging by the wolfish face, grey coloured fur and imposing teeth, it was obvious he'd been inflicted with the curse. Muttered curses muffled by his sleeve as he wiped dirt from his face, he quickly scrambled back onto his feet; he was now displaying an almost defensive manner, ears folded back harshly on his head, his blue eyes locked onto the feline standing before him.
"Erm... I ain't 'ere t' 'urt you, jus'... Lost my way, 's all. I'll be on my way, soon enough."
The cat raised a brow yet again, instinctively tilting his head at the curious stranger, contemplating whether or not he should respond. Being the sort of person he was-- that is, one who had studied Druidism, he had experienced first hand the varied reactions of those who found themselves ultimately having a conversation with what appeared to be just an odd jungle cat.
"... Right-o. I gathered that myself, that you weren't here to harm anything... As much noise as you make, I'd think everything would have fled the area EONS before you showed. Or, well, the ones that aren't interested in making a meal out of you, anyway." He spoke after a moment of pause, a slight sarcastic tone rising in his voice.
The now apparent Worgen blinked, crossing his arms as the beast spoke, nodding a bit. "Cheeky bloke, ain't you? An' a Druid, I take it. Unless I've finally gone mad and I'm speakin' to a real cat..." A sly smirk appeared across his face, his muscles relaxing a bit as he realized that the stranger did not post much of a threat. "Wilbury, at your service, Brotha! Always cheery t'meet a fellow Druid aroun' these parts, considerin' most of 'em hang aroun' Teldrassil now."
The feline furrowed his brow, amusing himself with the thought that this Worgen would be so quick to introduce himself, particularly in an area that was not nearly as friendly to his kind as other parts of the continent. "Studied in Moonglade, myself... Dreadful place, sodding GREEN everywhere." He nodded a bit, introducing himself with a hint of overly exaggerated self importance in his voice. "Staffordshire. The only name you need to know."