Post by {FOREVER} on Oct 10, 2009 11:00:57 GMT -8
Just know I hate you, Jenny
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And so I was blessed--- Dog
Learning to live for--- 26 Moons
Pledging myself to only--- BloodClan
Given the rank--- Warrior
DNA says--- TomYou were just one among many
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A giant of my kind--- Dog is a cat most need to fear and for good reason, if you have ever seen this cat yawn you will know why. With teeth as large as this BloodClan cat it is best to play it safe. Dog rivals the beauty that is the fabled felines of LeopardClan with his uncanny resemblance to the ancient predators who were said to once rove territories bigger then two Clan lands. A well built tomcat with fur seemingly tailored to his body. The snug fit defines the muscle tone of this lanky Warrior who uses his sheer size for intimidation as others expect him to. His pelt is a glorious array of sunshine kissed strands and light earth tones that support the absurd claim that Dog is actually a descendant of LeaopardClan. he is undesputedly the largest domestic breed: the Savannah.
The majority of his coat is a crisp flaxen that becomes increasingly diluted in hue around his jowls and throat which fade from gold, to beige to a brazen white. The same can be explained for the shorter strands along his underbelly and threaded through the distinctive rings in his tail. His eyes were one of his most daunting features. Matching his honey-colored coat, his eyes are an intrusive gold as well and with an unblinking stare he looks as though he is always plotting something malevolent. His heels are heavily dappled in ebony spots are his sides. At the corner of either of his eyes he has the traditional 'tear marks ' that reflect the glare of the sun. The tips of each ear is black with a band of white fur squeezed between another section of black. The very thin fur on his inner thighs are striped.
His slim shoulders poke through and show off the sinew as he stands or enters motion. Surprisingly dainty paws for a cat of such substantial size it adds to the quickness of the tom who does not have any evident difficulty with maneuvering through dense undergrowth. With such an imposing figure one would expect it harder for him to fit in a typical Clan setting but Dog manages himself just fine. He wears his battle scars with pride, a vicious gash along his nose stretched all the way over to his right cheek and mars what might have been a beautiful visage.
A closer look--- Click.
I'm a monster inside--- Being a cat who loves nothing more than to throw his weight around and show everyone around him, exactly whose boss he has a very imposing presence even when he isn’t being blatantly aggressive. Not to say there are many instances where he isn’t being an overbearing jerkwad with enough sense to be cordial when the time calls for such. No. Dog is every bit the hulking, volatile monster that he appears to be.
This tom, whose outlook on the world is perverse and perpetually warped, has never exuded any intent to be kinder than his appearance. The felines bone structure is naturally thich and built to show a high tolerance for physical pain. With this high tolerance for pain Dog's strong resistance to discomfort makes him both an asset as well as a liability. His bull-headed attitude makes it near impossible for him to detect a possible miscalculation in his overconfidence and thus during a fight, he has the tendency to ignore wounds he’s received and to that end expend more energy to continue combat.
Dog is your atypical jerk who believes the world is wrong and he’s the only right thing that’s ever happened to it. Egotistical, bigoted and infuriatingly confident his name is befitting to his much disliked personality. Dog has no qualms with abusing those weaker than himself and actively instills fear in those around him under the impression that terror makes for loyal pawns to dispel at his leisure.
This cat displays a callous unconcern for the feelings of others and a lack of the capacity for empathy. His aggression gets in the way as well- his temper flaring within moments of any agitation and can ignite without provocation. Dog needs only to dislike another to become the aggressor and spares nothing to the imagination when he goes on a rampage. Interaction with other felines is typically a troublesome event. If he isn't barking out orders he's bullying those around him. On the off chance he's doing neither he's isolating himself and or being anti-social. Getting him to do much of anything that doesn't involve intimidating or torturing others is a hassle.
Dog is also a suspected cannibal...
Just another Greek tragedy---
Dog's birthplace was located among the two-leg settlements that everybody disliked. Never having to worry where his next meal was coming from, never obligated to do much of anything aside from cuddle with the two-legs and abide by the laws that had been put in place. He was well aware that he and his feline family were not the same as their neighborhood cats who they dwarfed as they began to grow into their adolescent seasons. No, they were from a particular breed that was banned in some areas of the world due to their feral heritage that became more and more apparent the older they became.
And and his siblings were a prime example of that wild African cat they were descendents of and they thoroughly enjoyed letting everyone else know that they were the rulers of the territory and wouldn't allow others to be cross with them without gaining a few battle scars.
Unfortunately their viciousness attracted the attentions of their neighbors who would constantly be yelling for their disposal, their ferocity no longer permissable within the settlement. The owners had no choice but to turn them over to their local animal security facilities to be disposed of for there was no way to convert the damage that they were born with - that need to destroy things without the hindrance of the instilled rules. What they hadn't counted on was the cats intelligence, or perhaps their perception of their masters actions.
Once they saw the kennels being prepared they escaped into the surrounding woodland, Dog (who was formerly named Basil) fled to the city where he encountered Scrouge's band of misfits. From then on he sought to make himself Leader and for the moment is biding his time until he can do away with the figurehead himself.
Played like a second-hand melody
[/center][/font][/color][/b]What's my name?--- Hidden
seasons roleplayed--- Five and Counting
Referred here through--- Neopets Ad
RP sample---
[Wolf Roleplay]
He chuckled to himself as he walked that exceptionally thin line of insolence and affability, greatly leaning to the more antagonistic of the two elations. He couldn’t help but want to tease the black she-wolf with her red eyes desperately masking the sentiments that carved new wounds in her heart – or perhaps they weren’t so much wounds that bled but small scrapes on her wonderful personality that Ink could mend for them? Yes, that would be the most ideal scenario wouldn’t it? The male actually making it so the rest of them weren’t always wondering who they were dealing with, the angry, phobic, Alpha or the relatively enduring, phobic alpha.
His grin was stifled to the best of his abilities as he tried to remain as aloof as possible – their interaction bringing boundless hurdles of laughter that he had to avoid as he watched that flash of possessiveness show on Sonja. An expression she quickly made sure to hide from them. It was all so amusing that he nearly forgot that he was still supposed to be paying a varied amount of his precious attention to the female who seemed to be the source of Sonja’s irrationality. Ah, little Kaskia who was now departing to consume the gift from their Alpha male. The female drew precariously close to him, the warmth radiating from her touching his pelt and adding to his own. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was intentional or not but it wouldn’t hurt to be hopeful.
His gaze briefly fled from that of the she-wolf to the present couple who he was intruding upon and chortled lowly in those same rich baritone notes. “I’ll let you two get back to border control or hunting patrol or whatever it is you Alpha’s do when we’re not around. Oh and Sonja,” he began this while dragging himself in the same direction that Kaskia was on, intended to follow her and keep his word. “Be cautious won’t you? If you can’t be cautious then be safe, and if you can’t be safe….” He shot a suggestive and perfectly amorous look at Ink. “Then name the first one after me.” Before she had a chance to retaliate he was sure to be booking it, laughing like a coyote.
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