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Bio Sheet
* denotes mandatory field
*Name: make sure it’s not already in use!
*Age: 0 – 25
*Gender: Male / Female

*Eye Color: be specific, and don’t be afraid to get creative!
*Appearance: must include height, weight and a detailed description of both their fur coloration and body type; include defining scars, etc here

Personality: feel free to skip, but this can be a good way to ‘introduce’ them!
History: what brings them to moladion? not mandatory but a fun way to explore your character!

Can imprint? important: you can only change imprintability status once unless ability is lost through ‘natural’ means

OOC Name:
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Have you read, and agree to abide by, the rules?
What is the required ‘word minimum’ of Lunar Children?

New players must supply a sample post.
The sample post doesn’t need to be long but must abide the minimum word count. It’s also a great opportunity to introduce your character to other players and get to know the character yourself!

Return to Lunar Children

betrayal knows my name
IP: 142.167.25.100
Posted on December 13, 2013 at 02:33:16 AM by scion.

name: scion
age: 4 years
gender: male
eye color: his expressive eyes are a magnificent emerald green. This tone is strongest outside of the rim of the iris, but fades down to a slightly lighter color that dominates the area around the pupil. Tendrils of the lighter hue also pervade the main iris, creating an interesting medley of shades.

appearance: Currently, he is a few pounds underweight, putting him at a moderate 114 pounds. Upon regaining his healthy muscle definition, he will return to a weight of 120 pounds. He is an average-sized creature, his muscular frame measuring, at the shoulder, a conservative 35 inches. He is proportionate in his build, height balancing with mass to create a versatile beast of battle. While he is not particularly large, he is also not a shrimp, meaning that he cannot be beaten by weight alone, and at the same time is not too clumsy to maneuver around his larger opponents. Scion boasts the typical mottled shading of a timber wolf. The base tone of his shaggy rug is a creamy white. This color completely dominates his underbelly and legs, reaching up to his throat and under his chin. However, at the rough half-way mark of his flanks, it is met with with an overlay that consists of differently colored fur. This fur is mainly a yellowish shade of taupe, with a few strains of true black and lighter gray scattered within it. Scion's tail is included in the over layer, and is tipped with black hairs.

personality: optional
history: to be revealed in the course of rp
imprintability: Scion has the ability to imprint.

ooc: crow
sample:

He walks along with the slow, staggering crawl of a reanimated corpse, proud head and tail held low. His body is riddled with injuries, and although he has long since ceased to leave a trail of blood on the freshly fallen snow, he is still in grave condition. Scion is scored with all manner of injuries, but most prominent is a mangled section at the junction of his neck and shoulder. The wound is partially scabbed over, but even time has not made it less sore or dangerous. His entire body aches, and his limbs tremble slightly from overexertion. He is weakened to the point of collapse, but nevertheless forges onward without a care for his own physical state. Scion was trained as a warrior, but the battle between his dignity and the conservation of his strength has long since stripped him of his regal stance, leaving him with nothing but his numerous scars and muscular form to broadcast him as anything more than a stricken peasant. For a while, the phantom remains brutally aware of the situation. Each step jars his injuries and stretches his numerous lacerations, sending a lance of red hot torture through his nervous system and into his already encumbered brain. However, the distraction caused by his physical ailments gives him no surcease from the continual thoughts that bombard his psyche.

He is truly a lost soul in the land of Moladion, a drifting, nameless nomad who neither needs nor deserves a kind word. He despises himself for a death that was not his fault, internalizing the blame to such an extent that he can barely function from the weight of it. Although the foremost purpose of each aching step is to reach a safe location, the boy relishes the agony caused by each muscle's movement, relishing the task as some sort of sick punishment. He'd never considered himself a weak-hearted creature until now, when he finds his old self caving under the pressure of his overwhelming feelings. Somehow the realization of his own pathetic nature leads to a more relentless brand of self-disgust, which, in turn, crushes his mind more, subsequently entrenching the wolf in a vicious cycle that he cannot and will not break. He acknowledges this cycle without any kind of inwardly directed pity, and hopes that it takes some time before driving him mad. Insanity would be too easy an escape after his sin.

He walks for hours, until the weak winter sunlight begins to fade as dusk fastens its charcoal drapes upon the scenery.

His eyes close slowly, lids drifting shut to obscure gleaming emerald jewels that, although once sparking with the life, loyalty and pride of an individual, now hold nothing more than a blank tombstone. A part of Scion's logical brain tried to battle against the tide of exhaustion, bone-weariness and fatigue that forcibly undermines his consciousness, but that part is insignificant in the face of the consuming pain that turns his limbs to lead and his senses into a howling cacophony that is part need and part self-loathing regret. What he craves now isn't sleep as much as it is release. Release from pain, be it the internal agony caused by the endless hours of self-inflicted mental assault, or the the unpleasant physical stimuli that each shuddering step he took sent jolting through his war-torn chassis. One, two...three.....four, one... the rhythm of his motions is stiff, slow and utterly lacking in grace. His movement has been slowed to a tormented trudge. Finally, one of his fine, ash-hued limbs does not make the journey forward in time to catch his weight. He overbalances, falling into the snow without the slightest expression of surprise ever crossing his face. It doesn't take many seconds for the wave of nauseating blackness to overtake him entirely, ripping away the working mechanisms of his clever mind and leaving, in the place of his sanity, a blissful numbness.

Reprieve can always be found in unconsciousness, and cowards will inevitably seek reprieve.

He lies in the snow like a corpse, all animation that had previously been visible in his frame gone. Time passes in staccato beats, first frantically, then more slowly. All the while, night descends, bringing with it a deadly chill. In his weakened state, the male might perish. This revelation occurs to the gray-coated warrior, yet somehow he cannot bring himself to care about his fate. The cold creeps past his thick coat and into his soul, silencing his conscious mind yet again. He allows himself to drift, this time, allows himself to float, suspended, in the cold wasteland where dreams go to die.

Fat snowflakes drift silently to earth, slowly peppering his form. In a few hours, it will be utterly obscured from view.

rules read: yes
word minimum: 200
how did you find us: I have been a member here before, but life and other roleplays always seem to get in the way. I am finally prioritizing this awesome site, so expect to see me around lots.
email: crowfeather16@gmail.com
chatango: crowsie
other contacts: I usually have AIM, but I just bought a new computer, so it is not up yet.
birthday: July 31



Replies:
  • . - By . April 16, 2018 at 04:27:51 AM
    x - By Castle December 15, 2013 at 04:31:25 AM
    Accepted - By Meryl December 13, 2013 at 12:52:32 PM

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