Post by Lady Freelance on Nov 14, 2011 11:43:10 GMT -5
Character Name: Darke Lyght (Actual Name: Darke Lin Liyavi)
Age: Apparent: 24 Actual: 269
History (just a paragraph about your character):
In a world where things are often mad, bad or ugly, Darke tends to be an extreme of anything she wishes. Born a Katagari Bailos in the mid 1700s, she's not even sure of her actual birthdate considering her mother's propensity for time-jumping. Not, of course, that skipping merrily through time is a BAD thing- one of the perks of being an animal at heart, in truth- but it does tend to make one a bit puzzled when it comes to one's birthdate and the location of one's pack.
One of the few Katagari who hasn't had a family member slaughtered by the Arcadian Slayers, she's never quite understood all the animosity between the animal-born and human-born of the Were-Hunters. Point in fact, she's never quite understood why it is that Dark-Hunters tend to stand so aloof, and why Dream-Hunters rarely come to her kind. If emotions are what the Oneroi are looking for, they'd certainly get quite a bit prowling through the dreams of her bretheren.
Having shaken off the familial ties of her mother's small pack- it doesn't help when one's brother smarts off in the earshot of Savitar and gets a warning lest the entire Katagari Bailos bloodline follow the fate of the Arcadian- she's come to New Orleans to see just what all the commotion is about regarding Sanctuary and the interesting things spoken of just beyond her hearing.
Physical Description:
Human: Standing just a shade under 5' 9" she is well aware that she's rather short for a Were-Hunter. Those who draw attention to it are more likely to discover that being shorter means less effort expended to bring knee in connection with crotch. Darke tends to be a trifle touchy about her large feet and curvaceous stature, wearing loose shirts to conceal the breadth of hip that nature graced her with. Shoulder-length, dark gold hair falls in loose waves around a face at once feline and interested, with a rosebud mouth the colour of dark wine. Her eyes are the most telling feature, being large, slightly slanted and the colour of burnished, tarnished copper- a rich, metallic brown with a green sheen.
Animal: With the stocky muscularity that comes from an arboreal life, the jaguar is a picture of her kind. Burnished gold fur mottled with the black markings of her breed is smooth and silky, showing that she often grooms herself. Broad, large paws aid her in padding over leaves quietly, and she keeps her claws long and sharp, all the better to climb anything nearby.
Breed (Dark-Hunter/Daimon/Squire/Mortal): Katagari Bailos (Were-Hunter: Animal born Jaguar)
Sample RP (must be at least two paragraphs long):
If it wasn't one thing, it was another.
Although she'd been lurking in the darkened areas of New Orleans for over a week now, it never failed to surprise Darke how flat out... STUPID humans were. Didn't they get that dark alleys were BAD things? Hadn't they watched enough of the news to know that corpses were plucked off of the street all the time? She wondered, and not for the first time, if the gods had chosen to make humans deliberately stupid just to give those entrusted with their care more hell than they actually needed. As far as she could see, the Dark-Hunters would be better off saying "To hell with it" and leaving the humans to the predations of the Daimons.
Of course, she wasn't about to back down from taking a few of her distant cousins out of the running when they were chasing a screaming woman into an alley. It may have BEEN the human's own fault for walking alone down a sidewalk in the middle of the night, but someone had to step in and be the bigger jaguar. And she was that someone. While she preferred using her claws for combat, she'd seen enough in the past week to know that a dagger to that weird inkblot spot was faster for taking down the soul-suckers. Hmmm... Looks like the Dark-Hunters were either being slow in arriving or busy elsewhere. Lithely, she slithered off of the fire escape and flipped the nine-inch blade into her hand before slinking into the shadows after the echoing sounds of screams.
Age: Apparent: 24 Actual: 269
History (just a paragraph about your character):
In a world where things are often mad, bad or ugly, Darke tends to be an extreme of anything she wishes. Born a Katagari Bailos in the mid 1700s, she's not even sure of her actual birthdate considering her mother's propensity for time-jumping. Not, of course, that skipping merrily through time is a BAD thing- one of the perks of being an animal at heart, in truth- but it does tend to make one a bit puzzled when it comes to one's birthdate and the location of one's pack.
One of the few Katagari who hasn't had a family member slaughtered by the Arcadian Slayers, she's never quite understood all the animosity between the animal-born and human-born of the Were-Hunters. Point in fact, she's never quite understood why it is that Dark-Hunters tend to stand so aloof, and why Dream-Hunters rarely come to her kind. If emotions are what the Oneroi are looking for, they'd certainly get quite a bit prowling through the dreams of her bretheren.
Having shaken off the familial ties of her mother's small pack- it doesn't help when one's brother smarts off in the earshot of Savitar and gets a warning lest the entire Katagari Bailos bloodline follow the fate of the Arcadian- she's come to New Orleans to see just what all the commotion is about regarding Sanctuary and the interesting things spoken of just beyond her hearing.
Physical Description:
Human: Standing just a shade under 5' 9" she is well aware that she's rather short for a Were-Hunter. Those who draw attention to it are more likely to discover that being shorter means less effort expended to bring knee in connection with crotch. Darke tends to be a trifle touchy about her large feet and curvaceous stature, wearing loose shirts to conceal the breadth of hip that nature graced her with. Shoulder-length, dark gold hair falls in loose waves around a face at once feline and interested, with a rosebud mouth the colour of dark wine. Her eyes are the most telling feature, being large, slightly slanted and the colour of burnished, tarnished copper- a rich, metallic brown with a green sheen.
Animal: With the stocky muscularity that comes from an arboreal life, the jaguar is a picture of her kind. Burnished gold fur mottled with the black markings of her breed is smooth and silky, showing that she often grooms herself. Broad, large paws aid her in padding over leaves quietly, and she keeps her claws long and sharp, all the better to climb anything nearby.
Breed (Dark-Hunter/Daimon/Squire/Mortal): Katagari Bailos (Were-Hunter: Animal born Jaguar)
Sample RP (must be at least two paragraphs long):
If it wasn't one thing, it was another.
Although she'd been lurking in the darkened areas of New Orleans for over a week now, it never failed to surprise Darke how flat out... STUPID humans were. Didn't they get that dark alleys were BAD things? Hadn't they watched enough of the news to know that corpses were plucked off of the street all the time? She wondered, and not for the first time, if the gods had chosen to make humans deliberately stupid just to give those entrusted with their care more hell than they actually needed. As far as she could see, the Dark-Hunters would be better off saying "To hell with it" and leaving the humans to the predations of the Daimons.
Of course, she wasn't about to back down from taking a few of her distant cousins out of the running when they were chasing a screaming woman into an alley. It may have BEEN the human's own fault for walking alone down a sidewalk in the middle of the night, but someone had to step in and be the bigger jaguar. And she was that someone. While she preferred using her claws for combat, she'd seen enough in the past week to know that a dagger to that weird inkblot spot was faster for taking down the soul-suckers. Hmmm... Looks like the Dark-Hunters were either being slow in arriving or busy elsewhere. Lithely, she slithered off of the fire escape and flipped the nine-inch blade into her hand before slinking into the shadows after the echoing sounds of screams.