Post by tyr on Jun 13, 2007 12:49:45 GMT -5
Name: Tyr
Age: Two moons
Gender: Female
Alignment: Dark
Desired Rank: Corporal
Appearence: Tyr. Scrawny is probably the best way to describe her. There's not much meat on her bones and her coat is quite ragged at this time of year, despite it's thickness. She has long legs though and is fast. She as sharp teeth and claws and makes up for her lack of physical strength with her speed. Like all of her kind she has a russet-red coat and a wite "bib" on her chest. She has black legs and a black mask on her face which extends to the tips of her ears. One of her ears is torn, ripped up in a fight with another fox over the carcass of a dead rabbit. She has a thick, bushy tail and black eyes. Lean and hard at her best, scrawny and small at her worst.
Personality: Young, but not naive Tyr knows when to fight and when to run away. She is well aware that many foes will be stronger than her so she tries to outwit them, tricking them or consturcting traps for her Army. Quicker than a greased monkey when she needs to get the hell out of there but a ferocious fighter when she is backed up against the wall. Tyr isn't what you would call loyal, she would probably put herself over her army if it came to it but she's no coward. But so long living on her own has made her selfish and rude and it's hard to like her. And no, when you've got to know her you haven't got a friend for life. You have a fox who will run by your side and fight with you but will turn her back, not at a moments notice but when she knows it's you or her. And she'll choose herself every single time. But living with a army, with other foxes, forced to settle down. Will it tame her and knock her into shape? Or will she turn her back and run for the hills, unable to bear it? Only time can tell.
History: Really there isn't much to tell. No traumatic past, no abadonment, no humans killing her family, no nothing. She was born to a pair of loners and grew up as a loner in the Big City. She soon tired of this and left, following the forest. She left that and soon showed up in the Cold North where she settled down. It seemed as good a place as any.
Picture;
IC:
Run!
Paws thudded on the ground and carried her on as the young fox ran for her life.
Run!
The army of hounds were behind her but they had sheer weight of numbers on their side and soon they would catch her and pull her down. The hunting horn sang out in the cool twilight and urged her on. Desperate Tyr moved her aching limbs, though they felt like lead. Her lungs sucked in air though it burnt like fire on the inside of her throat. Her paws churned on the muddy ground and she slipped, right off the path and down under the fence. She fell, nose over tail down the muddy embankment until she hit a patch of weeds. A near-fatal mistake almost saved her life. Almost.
The dogs wouldn't have smelt her and she would have been safe. The humans couldn't see her and she had the good sense to hide. But one dog lingered. An old dog, wily in the ways of foxes peered under the gap in the fence. And saw her. Instantly he pointed his head to the sky and called for his army who ran after him as they leapt down the ridge. Tyr turned and fled. The humans had found another way down and rode hard to keep up with the baying army. Tyr darted through the trees but to her horror saw that they gave way to open farmland. Too late to change course. Too late to hide. With the dogs springing at her heels she leapt out of the woods.
By now her pads were bleeding. By now her head was blurry with fear. She was ready to drop down but she kept running. She had too.
A lash of her tail and she changed course darting sideways so fast the dogs kept running for several strides before they noticed that she was gone, running in the opposite direction. And she was so close, so close...
She reached it. Before the hounds could stop her she was safe, curled up deep in her den. They dug folornly for a while but soon gave up.
She lay down then, and collapsed. She was spent. But she was alive.
Age: Two moons
Gender: Female
Alignment: Dark
Desired Rank: Corporal
Appearence: Tyr. Scrawny is probably the best way to describe her. There's not much meat on her bones and her coat is quite ragged at this time of year, despite it's thickness. She has long legs though and is fast. She as sharp teeth and claws and makes up for her lack of physical strength with her speed. Like all of her kind she has a russet-red coat and a wite "bib" on her chest. She has black legs and a black mask on her face which extends to the tips of her ears. One of her ears is torn, ripped up in a fight with another fox over the carcass of a dead rabbit. She has a thick, bushy tail and black eyes. Lean and hard at her best, scrawny and small at her worst.
Personality: Young, but not naive Tyr knows when to fight and when to run away. She is well aware that many foes will be stronger than her so she tries to outwit them, tricking them or consturcting traps for her Army. Quicker than a greased monkey when she needs to get the hell out of there but a ferocious fighter when she is backed up against the wall. Tyr isn't what you would call loyal, she would probably put herself over her army if it came to it but she's no coward. But so long living on her own has made her selfish and rude and it's hard to like her. And no, when you've got to know her you haven't got a friend for life. You have a fox who will run by your side and fight with you but will turn her back, not at a moments notice but when she knows it's you or her. And she'll choose herself every single time. But living with a army, with other foxes, forced to settle down. Will it tame her and knock her into shape? Or will she turn her back and run for the hills, unable to bear it? Only time can tell.
History: Really there isn't much to tell. No traumatic past, no abadonment, no humans killing her family, no nothing. She was born to a pair of loners and grew up as a loner in the Big City. She soon tired of this and left, following the forest. She left that and soon showed up in the Cold North where she settled down. It seemed as good a place as any.
Picture;
IC:
Run!
Paws thudded on the ground and carried her on as the young fox ran for her life.
Run!
The army of hounds were behind her but they had sheer weight of numbers on their side and soon they would catch her and pull her down. The hunting horn sang out in the cool twilight and urged her on. Desperate Tyr moved her aching limbs, though they felt like lead. Her lungs sucked in air though it burnt like fire on the inside of her throat. Her paws churned on the muddy ground and she slipped, right off the path and down under the fence. She fell, nose over tail down the muddy embankment until she hit a patch of weeds. A near-fatal mistake almost saved her life. Almost.
The dogs wouldn't have smelt her and she would have been safe. The humans couldn't see her and she had the good sense to hide. But one dog lingered. An old dog, wily in the ways of foxes peered under the gap in the fence. And saw her. Instantly he pointed his head to the sky and called for his army who ran after him as they leapt down the ridge. Tyr turned and fled. The humans had found another way down and rode hard to keep up with the baying army. Tyr darted through the trees but to her horror saw that they gave way to open farmland. Too late to change course. Too late to hide. With the dogs springing at her heels she leapt out of the woods.
By now her pads were bleeding. By now her head was blurry with fear. She was ready to drop down but she kept running. She had too.
A lash of her tail and she changed course darting sideways so fast the dogs kept running for several strides before they noticed that she was gone, running in the opposite direction. And she was so close, so close...
She reached it. Before the hounds could stop her she was safe, curled up deep in her den. They dug folornly for a while but soon gave up.
She lay down then, and collapsed. She was spent. But she was alive.
If your picture is still in the making though, consider yourself accepted! Awesome bio. 
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