Post by nevermore on Jun 17, 2007 17:14:01 GMT -5
Characterter’s name:[/b] Lakota
Gender: Male
Alliance: Light
Desired Position: Soldier
Personality: Morose, Sly, and Almost villainous in the way he goes about. He's on the good side, though, we're pretty sure.
Appearance: Lanky, medium-sized. His fur is black with white accent down the top of his back, shoulders, haunches, face, and tail, and all black on his muzzle, ears, and legs. His tail is tipped with white, and the rest of his body is rustic red. He's strangely patterned, but gorgeous.
History: "Why should you know anything about me? I don't know you and you don't know me. All you've done is seen me and expect to overview me and draft me into your army. My past matters naught, and I refuse to allow you into it."
Picture:
IC:For a fourth time, the frightened field vole was released from clawed clutches-but, to it's dismay, caught again. The torturous paws that continued to play with the rodent wouldn't withdraw anytime soon, though-this was too much fun.
Since there was nothing better to do, Lakota defied the law of all mothers-he played with his food. The pitiful little vermin squealed and darted back and forth in the small vicinity it'd been trapped in, scurrying over the dirt just to be blocked by a wall of black paw again. The game would end whenever Lakota decided to eat it, for Lakota was the dominance-as it should be.
A god complex? No. Lakota merely preferred being the headhonchoo whenever he could-the display of dominance made him seem vengeful, and if he weren't at the top, spiteful. But it was the way that he'd been sinceKit hoodd, and would be until his dying breath. Which, since he was one of the strongest of the army, wouldn't be anytime soon.
The vole, too, became tiring, and he set his nose to the ground, a white-fanged smirk crossing the black muzzle. With that, the rodent became dinner-well, not so much dinner as a mid-afternoon snack. The clouds covered over sunlight, and a sharp wind blew over the rocky terrain, making his fur look dull with a lack of light; the fur was never glossy, but dusty, with a rusty tone and a sooty accent. It was the color of a Vulpes vulpes-A Red Fox, or, more importantly, a Silver Fox.
Now, Lakota wasn't evil-he was just....villainous. The way he didn't walk, but slunk up the mountain, creeping like a wildcat on a mission to the peak of the rocky hill; his witty remark and spiteful sarcasm; his amber glare, and toothy smirk; but, most of all, his hunting. When he wanted a real meal, there was no stopping him-no matter what he was eating, he would eat his fill, and chase whatever prey had fallen into his line of vision with the passion of a demon. Granted, it was in the canine blood to hunt like a true predator-but this was almost unhealthy.
Regardless of that, Lakota was just another soldier-for now, anyway.
Gender: Male
Alliance: Light
Desired Position: Soldier
Personality: Morose, Sly, and Almost villainous in the way he goes about. He's on the good side, though, we're pretty sure.
Appearance: Lanky, medium-sized. His fur is black with white accent down the top of his back, shoulders, haunches, face, and tail, and all black on his muzzle, ears, and legs. His tail is tipped with white, and the rest of his body is rustic red. He's strangely patterned, but gorgeous.
History: "Why should you know anything about me? I don't know you and you don't know me. All you've done is seen me and expect to overview me and draft me into your army. My past matters naught, and I refuse to allow you into it."
Picture:
IC:For a fourth time, the frightened field vole was released from clawed clutches-but, to it's dismay, caught again. The torturous paws that continued to play with the rodent wouldn't withdraw anytime soon, though-this was too much fun.
Since there was nothing better to do, Lakota defied the law of all mothers-he played with his food. The pitiful little vermin squealed and darted back and forth in the small vicinity it'd been trapped in, scurrying over the dirt just to be blocked by a wall of black paw again. The game would end whenever Lakota decided to eat it, for Lakota was the dominance-as it should be.
A god complex? No. Lakota merely preferred being the headhonchoo whenever he could-the display of dominance made him seem vengeful, and if he weren't at the top, spiteful. But it was the way that he'd been sinceKit hoodd, and would be until his dying breath. Which, since he was one of the strongest of the army, wouldn't be anytime soon.
The vole, too, became tiring, and he set his nose to the ground, a white-fanged smirk crossing the black muzzle. With that, the rodent became dinner-well, not so much dinner as a mid-afternoon snack. The clouds covered over sunlight, and a sharp wind blew over the rocky terrain, making his fur look dull with a lack of light; the fur was never glossy, but dusty, with a rusty tone and a sooty accent. It was the color of a Vulpes vulpes-A Red Fox, or, more importantly, a Silver Fox.
Now, Lakota wasn't evil-he was just....villainous. The way he didn't walk, but slunk up the mountain, creeping like a wildcat on a mission to the peak of the rocky hill; his witty remark and spiteful sarcasm; his amber glare, and toothy smirk; but, most of all, his hunting. When he wanted a real meal, there was no stopping him-no matter what he was eating, he would eat his fill, and chase whatever prey had fallen into his line of vision with the passion of a demon. Granted, it was in the canine blood to hunt like a true predator-but this was almost unhealthy.
Regardless of that, Lakota was just another soldier-for now, anyway.
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