<font color=430000 face=georgia size=1>YOU SHALL KNOW ME BY THE TRAIL OF BLOOD</font>

NAME: Abraxus
AGE: 16
GENDER: Male
EYE COLOR: His left eye is dark yellow while his right is clouded grey, nearly blind.
APPEARANCE: 42 inches, 200 lbs., very much constructed for power with hefty muscle throughout. Coloring is a darker variation of the typical �grey wolf� pelt.
IMPRINT: Sure
OOC: M&M

SAMPLE:

Abraxus slowly lifts his bedraggled head, blood-streaked cutlery sliding expertly from the meal of which he was so ravenously partaking, viscous slop plummeting from the preposterously incomplete right half of his face, alighting upon the ground in a macabre torrent and dotting the carcass from whence it had been drunk. He wore a mask of the deepest crimson, shone black as ink in the foreboding light cast by the pale and omnipresent orb of the moon; it appeared as war paint upon his upturned fa�ade, a gruesome halo encircling the ragged crevice of his mouth, extending in a wretched slope down his chin. Under normal circumstances, nothing, not even the endlessly tempting presence of a stranger at Judila�s border would have been capable of luring him from his well-earned feast; he much preferred to allow his followers their due reward in the form of the occasional wayward wretch turned temporary plaything. However, this particular eau danced a tantalizing samba upon the dimpled bulb of his quivering nose; he recognized this peculiar stench from some vague happening not too far consumed by the past, for it had lingered upon the pelts of two individuals with whom he had become quite acquainted. Though it could not plausibly belong to either of them, for this putrid cloud emanated from a creature of the masculine variety, but who also originated from the same place: Paracon.

And so, his hunger for the most part sated, Abraxus traversed the distance separating the lone succubus and his supposed visitor. He makes relatively short work of the expanse, the pads of his mammoth paws coaxing not a sound from the earth upon which he trod, his stealth understated by the apparent immensity of his heft. He emerges from the undergrowth and admits himself both pleasantly surprised and intrigued by the presence of his daughter, and a smile creeps slowly unto his features as she tests the virtues of her sarcasm upon the ebony male. What a positively barbaric shrew she was proving to be, a younger, female mimicry of himself. Though beneath the intrinsic shroud of his humor was a delectable sense of affirmation. This must be The Bastard of which Stella spoke so highly, this Devil of Paracon. The yet-to-be-defeated King of Ravine Pack� and yet here he stood, flounced up like a veritable show pony, tail flung dramatically upon his back as if his rank had earned him some modicum of leniency here. The thought bred hilarity from its heinousness.

The ashen monolith approaches the duo, forcing his own unique presence upon the already-damnably tense situation, bypassing Stella while sparing her a momentary and private view of his jester�s grin, a knowing gaze passed between the two of them. As he turns to the wayward king, he does not posture as so many in his position were so apt to do when confronted with one of their �peers�, for he has never known the pull to do so. He merely raised his cranium so that his gaze might match that of his caller, the moistened slab of his tongue protruding momentarily to lap the thick layer of crimson mucus that had been forgotten until that moment. Abraxus speaks, the already-garbled quality of his intonations made all the more atrocious by the blood that still lay in a thick film upon the sloping edges of his esophagus.

�Indeed it is. To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?�

He lingers in abject silence, his eyes not betraying the morbid gaiety that has unfurled within him like the petals of some hideous bloom� come, little pony, dance for me.

RULES: Read �em. ;)
MINIMUM: 200
I used to play her EONS ago.
CHATANGO: MissMeg88
BIRTHDAY: July 20th!!!

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