Post by Paisley on Jul 24, 2013 16:26:03 GMT -5
[atrb=cellspacing,0,bTable][atrb=border,0,bTable][cs=2][classy=charname]finchheart[/classy] | |
[atrb=style, width:105px; height:365px; overflow:hidden;][classy=stattop]clan[/classy][classy=statbottom]only the first half or "none"[/classy] [classy=stattop]rank[/classy][classy=statbottom]xxx[/classy] [classy=stattop]age[/classy][classy=statbottom]in moons[/classy] [classy=stattop]gender[/classy][classy=statbottom]male[/classy] [classy=stattop]sexuality[/classy][classy=statbottom]heterosexual[/classy] | [atrb=style, width:345px; height:365px; overflow:hidden; padding:2px;][style=margin-top:-18px;][classy=infotop]appearance[/classy][classy=appbottom]Finchheart is big, brawny, thick-boned tom who's coat is brown tabby. click[/classy] [classy=infotop]personality[/classy][classy=infobottom]minimum of 150 words[/classy] [classy=infotop]history[/classy][classy=infobottom]minimum of 200 of words for warriors, 150 for apprentices, and 100 for kits[/classy] |
[atrb=style, width:450px; padding:2px;][cs=2][classy=infotop]roleplay sample[/classy][classy=rpsample]Post for my red husky dog named Wicked while meeting another dog named Sylar. There was something off about this dog. Maybe it seemed like he was acting strange, like he didn't usually act this way, or maybe it was just that this dog seemed to be so likable. Wicked never seen another dog that seemed like everyone he met would instantly love him and, obviously, Wick was not the type people loved. In fact, every other canine he came into contact with - besides females, of course - seemed to either be the type that would absolutely hate the husky or they plain and simple didn't like him and weren't afraid to show it. Yes, the husky had a thing for stepping on other's toes, especially the female he had met as Icecold, and he didn't hide the entertainment he took away from doing so. But this dog, this big, muscular brute seemed like if he met a dog who'd driven himself mad looking for the bone he'd misplaced Sylar would still manage to get on the dog's good side. The male felt a pinch of jealousy in the pit of his stomach but, before it could progress into something more, the canine snapped himself back to the dog's words and shook off the thoughts that had previously invaded his head, "-savagery, I do not suppose I would have approached you." The male felt his face contort in an expression expressed his confusion. What had he said? Sighing, the dog chose not to answer this and, instead, paid attention to the way he had spoken the words. "I do not suppose I would have approached you." Ah, so the dog did want something. He hadn't seemed like the type for idle conversation and now the brute knew why. The dog perked his ears, his claws testing the ground beneath his pads uneasily. The dog wanted something, and yet he was offering something to Wick. "Wait," he barked as the dog began to trot off. Though his legs had hesitated, Wicked eventually followed in pursuit toward the rusted smell of blood he always loved. Due to the lack of food in his stomach Wicked wasn't able to keep pace with his well fed counterpart, but the dog easily fell into stride a few paw steps behind him. "I don't do favors, so be honest with me. Is there a price attached to the meat?" the male spoke as they approached. He felt his mouth begin to water at the site of the buck on the ground, blood lazily dripping from the puncture wounds in his neck. It made sense that the brawny mutt would go for the throat instead of, say his neck. Wicked may not have known much about hunting, but he was aware that if you were to get into the wrong position you would end up with an antler in your gut and, if he was being honest, Sylar didn't seem like a small enough target to be able to miss a blow like that. And if someone were to be the unfortunate fool that took a hit like that there would be almost no chance of survival without humans. Though the male received no answer from his previous question, he did get something he took as an answer, "If you're as hungry as I suspect you are, I would pace myself if I were you. No need to vomit all over the place." If you could really count that as an answer. The male searched Sylar's face, but only found a carefully constructed mask that faced the outside world. The male snorted to himself softly, shrugging it off. He clearly took that as a "yes" but he wasn't sure he minded. Even if he was asked to do something, there was a little to no chance of him actually doing the male a favor. The male drew in closer to the kill, stalking it like the natural predatory creature he had been born to be. Circling the animal, Wicked chose to crouch down near his belly and began to eat hastily: completely ignoring the beast behind him as he consumed the much needed meat.[/classy] |