Post by Noodle! on Jul 8, 2008 19:14:44 GMT -5
Name: Darius
Gender: Intact Male
Age: Two
Breed: Beauceron
Personality:
Blood-thirsty, violent, and aggressive... Nah, not hardly. Though this is the demeanor he strives to exhibit. Once a city street’s dog, he traveled the countryside and down busy highways to find Harlow. Determined would correctly define him. He is, in reality, high-strung but collected; reveling in excitement and a junkie of adrenaline. He’s always up for cheap thrills, and always after the ladies. Although he can be quite the charmer, most find him too bold and brash for their likings. So he’s not always the pick of the litter when it comes to having a mate. Besides, who wants a male who acts like a killer?
He’s a bad-boy in all aspects, but still holds that bit of innocence that always tinges those in that category. Out to impress, he’s not always the sharpest tool in the shed. He’s easily influenced by those around them and almost always jumps on the bandwagon if the occasion suits him. He’s not naive, no, but definitely subject to pressure.
As for his real personality? Why, I think it would be more fun to figure that out yourself.
Appearance:
His appearance is daunting. Standing at the height of a Doberman, with the muscular bulk of a Malinois and weight of a Rottweiler; Darius is nothing to mess with. Liquid movements define him, leaving a lively feeling of flow rather than a heavy cumbersome advancement. His stance is that of a relaxed individual, long tail forming a ‘J’ as it lays and curls just at his hocks. His back makes a gentle slop downwards to ready-to-spring haunches, poised like some primeval feline.
His coloring is not unique, in fact, it is the most common color among German breeds, and especially among the beauceron breed. He is solid black, lacking even a single hair of white. Rusty hues spread across his stomach and the underside of his tail, eventually spreading down the insides of his legs and onto his paws. Small rhombuses of the same color lie above each eye, on each cheek, inside his ears, and in larger proportion on either side of his breast and over his lips and neck. The coat is long and coarse, providing no leeway for silky smoothness. The fur is thick underneath, wooly to accommodate him for cold weather and wet conditions; giving him a slightly rugged, arctic appearance.
His ears stand erect, only the right flops over slightly at the top sometimes, fondly resembling the Mad Hatter’s rabbit companion. This particular trait hints at a past with humans, as his breed’s ears do not naturally stand upwards. Either this or his breeding is mixed with something that would influence such but leave the rest of his conformation intact. His hind legs have double-dew claws; a small but undoubtedly strange thing. To add to the insane expression, his blood-colored lips are always pulled back in a strange sort of grin. The dark, chocolatey eyes reflect this gesture, shimmering with a dark and mischievous jest.
History:
Darius does not remember a majority of his past. Puppy-hood is shrouded in dark shadows of mystery and the more he tries to pry through the veil, the more tightly the curtain is drawn. His earliest memories lie in a box. A simple box, with four walls, and a rotting bottom, wet with rain and decay. Above him was a sky. It was the color of a pumpkin, streaked with some light strands of blue and grey confetti, the occasional white cloud coming into view. Then blue eyes of youth turned upwards, and he woofed gently.
A man who’s stench was of alcohol and smoke, reached down to ruffle his ears. The scent choked the nostrils of the young pup, who immediately retracted and growled. Although it was a meager sound then, the man immediately left, kicking the box over forcefully into an alleyway. This was his first interaction with people, and he quickly discovered aggression was the way to success for him.
Barely clinging to life, alone in the streets, Darius began scavenging food from trash cans behind restaurants and eating the occasional small cat or dog that escaped from houses, yards, and apartments. Blood was something he began to crave. Resorting to an almost wild state, he then found that he needed to do some self-seeking and become what he was meant to be: a dog. Attempting to leave behind his blood-thirsty ways, he brings himself to Harlow, seeking out a pack.
Other: Feel free to delay his acceptance until the stray-pet ratio evens back out. =] His name is subject to change, as I'm having some inner turmoil in the decision! >.< goshhh...
Gender: Intact Male
Age: Two
Breed: Beauceron
Personality:
Blood-thirsty, violent, and aggressive... Nah, not hardly. Though this is the demeanor he strives to exhibit. Once a city street’s dog, he traveled the countryside and down busy highways to find Harlow. Determined would correctly define him. He is, in reality, high-strung but collected; reveling in excitement and a junkie of adrenaline. He’s always up for cheap thrills, and always after the ladies. Although he can be quite the charmer, most find him too bold and brash for their likings. So he’s not always the pick of the litter when it comes to having a mate. Besides, who wants a male who acts like a killer?
He’s a bad-boy in all aspects, but still holds that bit of innocence that always tinges those in that category. Out to impress, he’s not always the sharpest tool in the shed. He’s easily influenced by those around them and almost always jumps on the bandwagon if the occasion suits him. He’s not naive, no, but definitely subject to pressure.
As for his real personality? Why, I think it would be more fun to figure that out yourself.
Appearance:
His appearance is daunting. Standing at the height of a Doberman, with the muscular bulk of a Malinois and weight of a Rottweiler; Darius is nothing to mess with. Liquid movements define him, leaving a lively feeling of flow rather than a heavy cumbersome advancement. His stance is that of a relaxed individual, long tail forming a ‘J’ as it lays and curls just at his hocks. His back makes a gentle slop downwards to ready-to-spring haunches, poised like some primeval feline.
His coloring is not unique, in fact, it is the most common color among German breeds, and especially among the beauceron breed. He is solid black, lacking even a single hair of white. Rusty hues spread across his stomach and the underside of his tail, eventually spreading down the insides of his legs and onto his paws. Small rhombuses of the same color lie above each eye, on each cheek, inside his ears, and in larger proportion on either side of his breast and over his lips and neck. The coat is long and coarse, providing no leeway for silky smoothness. The fur is thick underneath, wooly to accommodate him for cold weather and wet conditions; giving him a slightly rugged, arctic appearance.
His ears stand erect, only the right flops over slightly at the top sometimes, fondly resembling the Mad Hatter’s rabbit companion. This particular trait hints at a past with humans, as his breed’s ears do not naturally stand upwards. Either this or his breeding is mixed with something that would influence such but leave the rest of his conformation intact. His hind legs have double-dew claws; a small but undoubtedly strange thing. To add to the insane expression, his blood-colored lips are always pulled back in a strange sort of grin. The dark, chocolatey eyes reflect this gesture, shimmering with a dark and mischievous jest.
History:
Darius does not remember a majority of his past. Puppy-hood is shrouded in dark shadows of mystery and the more he tries to pry through the veil, the more tightly the curtain is drawn. His earliest memories lie in a box. A simple box, with four walls, and a rotting bottom, wet with rain and decay. Above him was a sky. It was the color of a pumpkin, streaked with some light strands of blue and grey confetti, the occasional white cloud coming into view. Then blue eyes of youth turned upwards, and he woofed gently.
A man who’s stench was of alcohol and smoke, reached down to ruffle his ears. The scent choked the nostrils of the young pup, who immediately retracted and growled. Although it was a meager sound then, the man immediately left, kicking the box over forcefully into an alleyway. This was his first interaction with people, and he quickly discovered aggression was the way to success for him.
Barely clinging to life, alone in the streets, Darius began scavenging food from trash cans behind restaurants and eating the occasional small cat or dog that escaped from houses, yards, and apartments. Blood was something he began to crave. Resorting to an almost wild state, he then found that he needed to do some self-seeking and become what he was meant to be: a dog. Attempting to leave behind his blood-thirsty ways, he brings himself to Harlow, seeking out a pack.
Other: Feel free to delay his acceptance until the stray-pet ratio evens back out. =] His name is subject to change, as I'm having some inner turmoil in the decision! >.< goshhh...
