Post by sunday on Jul 3, 2011 13:19:55 GMT -5
Name: Sunday
Alias: N/A
Gender: Female.
Age: 2 years
Birthdate: November 23rd, 2129
Species: Dog.
Breed: Coyote/Dutch Shepherd
Purebred: No.
Pack: Loner.
Height: 23in
Weight: 37ilbs
Build: Lean, bordering on skinny. She carries her tail down normally, and has the basic build of a coyote.
Coat: Her coat is thick and coarse. It is a light tan/ silver colour, with the guard hairs on the tail and back a darker colour.
Head: Her ears are large and expressive triangles, often sticking straight up. Her muzzle is long and slender, though her head is slightly bulkier than a coyote's.
Eyes: Sunday's eyes are large and almond-shaped. A light silver-blue colour, they are very striking.
Scars: Sunday has many scars from fights with other dogs. She also has a scar around her neck from the rope she wears.
Accessories: A rope "collar" around her neck. It is very frayed and old-looking.
Pictures: Picture 1 Picture 2
Speed: Above average.
Stamina: High.
Strength: Below average.
Fighting: Above average.
Strengths:
-Agile
-Intellegent
-Good at fighting
Tenacious
-Fast
Weaknesses:
-Wary
-Somewhat cocky
-Volatile temper
-Not as strong as some of the larger breeds
-Bores easily
Personality: Sunday is a loner at heart. She remembers nothing about her mother, or any siblings she might have had. She has never had a friend, but will sometimes travel with another canine for a bit if she feels they somehow benefit her. She is not cruel, just cold. Her own survival is at the top of her list. Not very trusting, she is always on guard around others. Some might even call her paranoid.
Sunday has never known true kindness in her life. She has seen only the brutal side of both humanity and dogs. She sees life as one big fight.
Fears: Sunday is afraid of humans, but also finds herself fascinated by them. She is also afraid of fire, and scorpions.
Family: None that she knows of, other than her mother's name - Cherelle.
History: When she was a puppy, Sunday was kiddnapped by a human. She remembers nothing before this time other than her mother's name. The man that took her was not kind to her, though he had a young daughter who would often give the young coydog an extra bone and attempt to befriend her. Sunday's master kept her for one purpose - fighting. Sunday grew up on the blood of her peers. She was trained early to kill, and became quite good at it. Though she is relatively small, she is fast and feirce, learning to kill without hesitation. Her master never fought her against any of the giant breeds however, as they would most likely overpower her.
Soon enough, her master got ill and died, as did his daughter. This left Sunday alone and vicious, tied up in the backyard. After a few days, the young dog gnawed through the rope and was free. Free in a world that was every bit as vicious as she was. The first thing she killed was a small dog. She ate it without hesitation. Thrilled with her new life, Sunday learned everything she needed to survive by following two simple rules - if you can kill it, eat it. If it can kill you, run away.
Played by: Rave
Role Play Sample: It was a nice day for a walk. It was cold out, but not the bitter unrelenting cold of deep winter, and the sun shone in a flawless blue sky. The few inches of snow on the ground sparkled as if some generous god had sprinkled the earth with millions of tiny diamonds. The wolf that trod across this shimmering landscape seemed out of place with her pitch-black pelt that seemed to swallow all light. She wandered amongst the eroded gravestones, pausing every now and then to sniff at a rock or a patch of earth exposed. Her paws were broad and well adapted to walking in snow, but she still broke through the thin upper layer of ice that had formed on top of the actual snow, causing her gait to be strangely uneven.
Voron was deep in thought. The peace of the old human graveyard seemed to encourage reflection and remembrance. She imagined the countless skeletons beneath the earth listening intently to her every thought, glad for an intruder to break their endless slumber. They would probably be much intrigued by her thoughts, for she was remembering her past.
"Why does mother hate me?" the young wolf asked her father, gazing up trustingly at his yellow eyes. She was too young to notice the sadness that now filled his usually kind eyes."She doesn't hate you darling. She hates herself... she doesn't know what to do, so she strikes out at everything. But she loves you dearly. Just give her time." The large grey wolf lowered his head sadly as he spoke, knowing that his words weren't exactly the truth. He didn't want to hurt his young daughter, but hoped that maybe one day - when she was older - she would understand why her mother acted as she did.
And Voron did understand now. Her mother had blamed her for Cheron's death. Even as a pup, a part of her had understood that, leading to the guilt that was so deeply ingrained in her. On that day, she had lost not only her beloved brother, but also her mother. It hurt, knowing that of she had been faster, smarter, she could have saved him. If she had been paying more attention, maybe her family would still be alive...
Snuffling half-heartedly at an old rabbit trail, the she-wolf made her way slowly around the huge Virgin Mary that dominated the place. Suddenly, she froze. With a paw half-raised to take a step and her muzzle close to the ground, she stared in utter shock at a form beside a large gravestone. Then all of a sudden she wasn't a serious young adult; she was a joyful puppy again as she bounded forward, feeling overwhelmed by the joy and love that swept through her. Her ears were layer back and her tail wagging feircly as she greeted her brother, almost crying as the scent of him filled her nostrils. She licked his face franticaly, not noticing that his eyes were cold as ice and he didn't move at all. "Cheron, Cheron, you're alive!" Obviously not thinking yet, she continued to repeat his name as she sniffed at his familier grey pelt.
Alias: N/A
Gender: Female.
Age: 2 years
Birthdate: November 23rd, 2129
Species: Dog.
Breed: Coyote/Dutch Shepherd
Purebred: No.
Pack: Loner.
Height: 23in
Weight: 37ilbs
Build: Lean, bordering on skinny. She carries her tail down normally, and has the basic build of a coyote.
Coat: Her coat is thick and coarse. It is a light tan/ silver colour, with the guard hairs on the tail and back a darker colour.
Head: Her ears are large and expressive triangles, often sticking straight up. Her muzzle is long and slender, though her head is slightly bulkier than a coyote's.
Eyes: Sunday's eyes are large and almond-shaped. A light silver-blue colour, they are very striking.
Scars: Sunday has many scars from fights with other dogs. She also has a scar around her neck from the rope she wears.
Accessories: A rope "collar" around her neck. It is very frayed and old-looking.
Pictures: Picture 1 Picture 2
Speed: Above average.
Stamina: High.
Strength: Below average.
Fighting: Above average.
Strengths:
-Agile
-Intellegent
-Good at fighting
Tenacious
-Fast
Weaknesses:
-Wary
-Somewhat cocky
-Volatile temper
-Not as strong as some of the larger breeds
-Bores easily
Personality: Sunday is a loner at heart. She remembers nothing about her mother, or any siblings she might have had. She has never had a friend, but will sometimes travel with another canine for a bit if she feels they somehow benefit her. She is not cruel, just cold. Her own survival is at the top of her list. Not very trusting, she is always on guard around others. Some might even call her paranoid.
Sunday has never known true kindness in her life. She has seen only the brutal side of both humanity and dogs. She sees life as one big fight.
Fears: Sunday is afraid of humans, but also finds herself fascinated by them. She is also afraid of fire, and scorpions.
Family: None that she knows of, other than her mother's name - Cherelle.
History: When she was a puppy, Sunday was kiddnapped by a human. She remembers nothing before this time other than her mother's name. The man that took her was not kind to her, though he had a young daughter who would often give the young coydog an extra bone and attempt to befriend her. Sunday's master kept her for one purpose - fighting. Sunday grew up on the blood of her peers. She was trained early to kill, and became quite good at it. Though she is relatively small, she is fast and feirce, learning to kill without hesitation. Her master never fought her against any of the giant breeds however, as they would most likely overpower her.
Soon enough, her master got ill and died, as did his daughter. This left Sunday alone and vicious, tied up in the backyard. After a few days, the young dog gnawed through the rope and was free. Free in a world that was every bit as vicious as she was. The first thing she killed was a small dog. She ate it without hesitation. Thrilled with her new life, Sunday learned everything she needed to survive by following two simple rules - if you can kill it, eat it. If it can kill you, run away.
Played by: Rave
Role Play Sample: It was a nice day for a walk. It was cold out, but not the bitter unrelenting cold of deep winter, and the sun shone in a flawless blue sky. The few inches of snow on the ground sparkled as if some generous god had sprinkled the earth with millions of tiny diamonds. The wolf that trod across this shimmering landscape seemed out of place with her pitch-black pelt that seemed to swallow all light. She wandered amongst the eroded gravestones, pausing every now and then to sniff at a rock or a patch of earth exposed. Her paws were broad and well adapted to walking in snow, but she still broke through the thin upper layer of ice that had formed on top of the actual snow, causing her gait to be strangely uneven.
Voron was deep in thought. The peace of the old human graveyard seemed to encourage reflection and remembrance. She imagined the countless skeletons beneath the earth listening intently to her every thought, glad for an intruder to break their endless slumber. They would probably be much intrigued by her thoughts, for she was remembering her past.
"Why does mother hate me?" the young wolf asked her father, gazing up trustingly at his yellow eyes. She was too young to notice the sadness that now filled his usually kind eyes."She doesn't hate you darling. She hates herself... she doesn't know what to do, so she strikes out at everything. But she loves you dearly. Just give her time." The large grey wolf lowered his head sadly as he spoke, knowing that his words weren't exactly the truth. He didn't want to hurt his young daughter, but hoped that maybe one day - when she was older - she would understand why her mother acted as she did.
And Voron did understand now. Her mother had blamed her for Cheron's death. Even as a pup, a part of her had understood that, leading to the guilt that was so deeply ingrained in her. On that day, she had lost not only her beloved brother, but also her mother. It hurt, knowing that of she had been faster, smarter, she could have saved him. If she had been paying more attention, maybe her family would still be alive...
Snuffling half-heartedly at an old rabbit trail, the she-wolf made her way slowly around the huge Virgin Mary that dominated the place. Suddenly, she froze. With a paw half-raised to take a step and her muzzle close to the ground, she stared in utter shock at a form beside a large gravestone. Then all of a sudden she wasn't a serious young adult; she was a joyful puppy again as she bounded forward, feeling overwhelmed by the joy and love that swept through her. Her ears were layer back and her tail wagging feircly as she greeted her brother, almost crying as the scent of him filled her nostrils. She licked his face franticaly, not noticing that his eyes were cold as ice and he didn't move at all. "Cheron, Cheron, you're alive!" Obviously not thinking yet, she continued to repeat his name as she sniffed at his familier grey pelt.