*Name: Joel

*Gender: Male

*Appearance (include eye/skin/hair colour): Lean, dark and brooding face with brown eyes and brown hair that falls in his face dispite how much he hates it. He's got beautiful hands.

*Defects (only required if the character has any): None

Age: 26

Personality: He's the quiet boy who never laughs. Ever. He's untrusting and antisocial and tends to get quickly annoyed with those who are bubbly and extroverted. Once in a blue moon, he'll find a girl that brings out his overprotective quality, but more often than not, he tends to get his heart broken as most females lose interest in his passive nature very quickly. Because of this, he's grown accustomed to the fact that the opposite sex don't want much to do with him. He has a passion for creating things, and is especially good at carpentry. He likes to lose himself in making things with his hands.

Anything else you wish to include: I'd like to trade in my coin now for a familiar in the shape of a Newfoundland dog named Ella, if you please.

*Your player name: Alora

*How you found out about us (only required if joining for first time): Hoof Prince

Sample post:

He jolted awake to the filtered burn of morning light through thr canopy. His pulse was too quick for his gasping breath to catch up and disoriented, it took a long moment for him to blink in recognition at the surrounding shelter of pines. He rubbed idly at his chest as shards of the nightmare flittered back, less saturated, but still potent. There had been a girl. She was hurting, agonized face shadowed and unidentifiable. A dark man cackled at her writhing, a sick glee rising like thr rank stench of death at each spasm of her tortured form chained at a wall. Please,the soft voice pleaded, making his ribs ache with something he could not name. Please don't do this, Joel. Joel. Joel. His own name from her lips had his mind screaming, his body jerking upright back into a reality.

He stared unseeing, brow furrowed at his feet, eventually slowing his heartrate to something akin to normal. "Dreaming again, were you? That's the third time this week. You aren't normally so creative." The prim voice that wasn't quite a voice invaded his thoughts from the right, bringing a soft groan of irritation from his lips. "Shut up, Elle,"he grumbled at the mental presence, which had now been accompanied by a very large, very shaggy black dog that had perched itself a short distance away. He snatched his shirt just before she had the chance to lower her massive body down over it. She had a tendency to do that, he had discovered, leaving most of his clothes in a blanket of soft black fuzz. But even that wasn't as bad a tendency as eavesdropping in on his sleep, somehow always catching the worst of his nightmares and then wanting to talk about them. Though the Newfoundland named Ella was his heart and soul, sometimes he wanted why the hell he'd gotten her in the first place.

"Who is she? You've dreamt of her before," the dog persisted, ignoring the glare Joel sent her as he struggled into his shirt. "Dammit, I told you I don't want you in my head during the middle of the night unless it's an emergency!" he countered, tugging his hem down in final resolution. "Just leave it, I told you I don't know who she is, I never see her face." They always worked like that, the dreams. Hiding what he desparately needed to know, giving away nothing and leaving him with more than he cared to take away. He didn't want anything to do with that girl, didn't want any part of her terror. And most of all, he didn't want to believe he was capable of such atrocities. And he certainly wasn't going to converse about such things with a slobbery, flea-ridden prying dog who couldn't even give him the privacy to dress in the mornings. He glared again at the dog, who layed motionless returning his gaze with mirrored intensity. He knew she would break before he did, so he waited, the morning routine pleasently familiar after the last fog of the dreams had been brushed away by her sweeping tail. He would stare her down until he whined, wiggling the bottom half of her body till he sighed and extended a hand to beckon her forward into his space. She knew better, then to rush his coveted boundaries. "You really should lighten up,"she purred happily under his massaging hand, tongue lolling to one side as she pushed her luck and scooted a bit closer to his body. She was by no means a judge of fairy attractiveness, but she would have bet quite a few fairy females would love to be in her place at the moment. But to saddness, her fairy had never relished the company of others, much less one that could prove a potential mate. She had questioned him on it, only once, suggesting that perhaps there might be a perfectly nice fairy man out there for him. Joel's dagger glare had been enough to ensure she never made the mistake of bringing up the subject again.