Post by Emolicious on Mar 21, 2008 1:35:01 GMT -5
Name: Emo Song
Meaning (optional):
Age: 4 seasons
Special Abilities (For hybrids, give the link to your accepted hybrid application): Nothing out of the ordinary; he’s just a freak show, as others call him.
Mate: None, looking
Pups: None. Yet.
Description: Deliciously disgusting; black lipstick perched on candy flavored lips. Horny devil with terrible disposition. Brute decorated in black mascara. Piercings adorn his 'gorgeous' face. Grotesque bastard prime condition to be all about vanity. Painted up and glittered in fine ebony color; black lips teased in the light. Reptilian eyes wild with sapphire flames. Mohawk strung upon skull, flaring in color. Nasty ass riddled with attitude; crooked smile claimed mouth. Epitome of sexual desire padded on by, axe spray clung to fur; Essence... Sly bastard plastered in evil. Deadly concoction; a mixture of poison.
Ivories held behind lip glossed lips; long serpent tongue held behind needle layered jaws. Piercing claimed middle of the whip; silver ball perched in the cave of wetness. Hollow soul freak show took his time to plot his revenge; he held many a grudge. Whipcord finely decorated in some braids, feathers, and beads. Back left right hindquarter tattooed with a large hot pink pentacle. Bright neon glow in the dark painted nails clicked under tough black mitts. Curvy body kept well up to date in health. Cold sneer grazed on lips whenever in a crowd. Long fennec auds branded in bars, hoops, balls, and whatever else fit.
Emolicious!
What's your roleplay style? One liner, Semi-Para, Para, or Multi-Para: How about all but a one liner. If I can’t rp on a good day, I’ll tell you if the posts will be long or not.
How long have you been living in WMH?: Lord knows. Before it closed, 2 years. Even though I’ve never tried applying to the WMH site… I just don’t know what to put. I’m not good with applications.
When are you on Furc and how many times are you on Furc each week?: On furc just about every day unless I am stuck without a computer...
Position you want and why: Whatever you choose is best, although a high rank if preferred. I’ve had lots of experience being of a high rank. I’ve been alpha of a few packs, although those were years ago. :/ I'd like to give that option of alpha another try but I won't ruin my luck :3
Second choice of position: Warrior or hunter, whatever it is.
Have you been in any other pack? If so, tell me the names. I can’t remember; it’s been years.
Why have you left your pack and come to join this one? Didn’t have one to leave.
::Roleplay Information::
Roleplay approaching the Alphas: Lethal brute padded into the area, nose high into the air; scent was carried in the wind to his nostrils. Piercings cranked in place, shimmering silver in the moonlight. The creature continued his rightful march, tail high in figuration. Schizophrenic bastard tipped his head down, hearing the wind cross over the rustling leaves. Audits grazed against the Mohawk, cranium flashing in a direction where the heaviest scent was. Although dominant in his own nature, he lowered the whipcord and dragged himself closer, ears pulled back and puzzled look in his eyes. Apparently he was on new territory. Luckily his respectful pose would dignify that he was of no threat to whoever held such a powerful scent. For now he was under their control….
Roleplay if a pup was in danger or hurt: He curled those lips in a horrid fashion; the bastard heard the startling cry which made his heart pump adrenaline faster and faster. Tassle swung in high directions, neck fur bristled as foam curled ‘round that handsome maw. Audits flashed a warning, hidden back behind the ‘hawk and plastered against the skull. Terrible attitude crossed his mind. A pup was in danger; what a chemically detonating thing to be heard. The brute took off, following that one strong scent painted in the den that he had previously taken refuge in. The alphess’s scent colored the area. Wherever the pup was, he was going to defend it. If it was one thing the cold brute felt, it was courage to give life to the young. He could not and would not stand the torture of a younger pup.
The brute came to a forest edge, the scent stopping directly before him. He turned around hearing the cries not too far off. Scent of blood was perfuming the clear night air. Light scent of the pack was nearby; wherever the scent led him he knew it would lead to the one in need of help. Bastard took off, nose to the ground with a snarl at his throat. His past would only haunt him like needles across his cold heart if he let this pup die; he wouldn’t allow the young one to perish so soon! Cold eyed brute came eye to eye with a daring canine. Whoever the other brute was, Emo was going to maul him. Enemy lowered his torso to the ground, claiming the air in a leap in attempt to drive Emo away. Big mistake.
Emo Song snarled like a rabid creature, lowering his torso to the snowy tundra. Neon colored nails groved into the ground, marking deep scars in the ground. Snow flew up as he too lifted up, catching the enemy by the chest and flinging him to the ground. The snow filtered into the air like dust, raining down on the contenders. Needle layered jaw snapped down over the maw of his new found sparring friend. One of them was going to walk away with that pup and it wasn’t going to be this stranger. If Emo won this battle, the alphess would most likely praise his actions.
Emo snarled, feeling the struggle of the enemy's body against his. Both wrestled around with wild snarling, yelping, crying, and barking; common battle language between to wolven creatures. Whipcord held it’s rank high as Emo stated his dominance over the stranger. He was not welcomed. After a while of fighting, the enemy would pull away, bloody and torn. His maw was bleed and he recoiled; tail between his legs and ears back. Empty eyes would look to Emo, while Emo offered a snarl with his lips turned back. He snorted, snarling again and jumping a bit forward as if to scare the other brute into more of a submission. The other turned and fled. Emo trotted to the hurt whelp, curling his body around it. He drew his paws around the pup, bringing it in close to rest against his thick furred body. Warmth was offered as he groomed the wounds upon it’s body. Tonight he’d be the one to take care of the little one.
Roleplay anything: Emo Song laid close to the den, his body curled close to keep in the heat. While the pack was gone he’d watch over the den. He hadn’t been accepted by a pack since he was a little lad. His head lay down on those abstract colored paws; nails neon and glow in the dark. He flashed a smile in the Alphess’s way, trying to make good with her. After all if he was to join, he’d have to make her comfortable. Life would never be the same for him. He was going to have to help someone other than himself. Long slithering tongue whipped out from his maw, climbing down the groom his mitts. Tassle flung behind him in a light wag; he was feeling rather childish and happy today. What strange and abnormal behavior from the normally heartless bastard. His Mohawk flashed with color and his sapphire colored orbs danced along the horizon line. Nothing new was approaching. He’d fall asleep shortly and hopefully no one would disturb him; if they did it might be the last of them.
Deep in sleep, Emo dreamt of his older pack; while in reality his legs would flitter and twitch. What a rather adorable sight from one so horrid in attitude. In his sleep he was a sweet wolf. Maybe this was what was buried beneath all that disposition of evil? Epitome of self indulgence gave a yawn, his tongue lightly lolled out between the two candy flavored lips. He’d give a light stretch before continuing onwards in his sleep. Poor guy was rather heartbroken and alone. But the way he acted, it seemed he didn’t care. Maybe he did care? Nobody would know unless one became close to him. Bastard sat upright, jerking up with eyes wide. Typical reaction to one tripping in a dream. He smacked his lips, tired eyed brute resting his head on his paws again, watching the horizon once more…
Meaning (optional):
Age: 4 seasons
Special Abilities (For hybrids, give the link to your accepted hybrid application): Nothing out of the ordinary; he’s just a freak show, as others call him.
Mate: None, looking
Pups: None. Yet.
Description: Deliciously disgusting; black lipstick perched on candy flavored lips. Horny devil with terrible disposition. Brute decorated in black mascara. Piercings adorn his 'gorgeous' face. Grotesque bastard prime condition to be all about vanity. Painted up and glittered in fine ebony color; black lips teased in the light. Reptilian eyes wild with sapphire flames. Mohawk strung upon skull, flaring in color. Nasty ass riddled with attitude; crooked smile claimed mouth. Epitome of sexual desire padded on by, axe spray clung to fur; Essence... Sly bastard plastered in evil. Deadly concoction; a mixture of poison.
Ivories held behind lip glossed lips; long serpent tongue held behind needle layered jaws. Piercing claimed middle of the whip; silver ball perched in the cave of wetness. Hollow soul freak show took his time to plot his revenge; he held many a grudge. Whipcord finely decorated in some braids, feathers, and beads. Back left right hindquarter tattooed with a large hot pink pentacle. Bright neon glow in the dark painted nails clicked under tough black mitts. Curvy body kept well up to date in health. Cold sneer grazed on lips whenever in a crowd. Long fennec auds branded in bars, hoops, balls, and whatever else fit.
Emolicious!
What's your roleplay style? One liner, Semi-Para, Para, or Multi-Para: How about all but a one liner. If I can’t rp on a good day, I’ll tell you if the posts will be long or not.
How long have you been living in WMH?: Lord knows. Before it closed, 2 years. Even though I’ve never tried applying to the WMH site… I just don’t know what to put. I’m not good with applications.
When are you on Furc and how many times are you on Furc each week?: On furc just about every day unless I am stuck without a computer...
Position you want and why: Whatever you choose is best, although a high rank if preferred. I’ve had lots of experience being of a high rank. I’ve been alpha of a few packs, although those were years ago. :/ I'd like to give that option of alpha another try but I won't ruin my luck :3
Second choice of position: Warrior or hunter, whatever it is.
Have you been in any other pack? If so, tell me the names. I can’t remember; it’s been years.
Why have you left your pack and come to join this one? Didn’t have one to leave.
::Roleplay Information::
Roleplay approaching the Alphas: Lethal brute padded into the area, nose high into the air; scent was carried in the wind to his nostrils. Piercings cranked in place, shimmering silver in the moonlight. The creature continued his rightful march, tail high in figuration. Schizophrenic bastard tipped his head down, hearing the wind cross over the rustling leaves. Audits grazed against the Mohawk, cranium flashing in a direction where the heaviest scent was. Although dominant in his own nature, he lowered the whipcord and dragged himself closer, ears pulled back and puzzled look in his eyes. Apparently he was on new territory. Luckily his respectful pose would dignify that he was of no threat to whoever held such a powerful scent. For now he was under their control….
Roleplay if a pup was in danger or hurt: He curled those lips in a horrid fashion; the bastard heard the startling cry which made his heart pump adrenaline faster and faster. Tassle swung in high directions, neck fur bristled as foam curled ‘round that handsome maw. Audits flashed a warning, hidden back behind the ‘hawk and plastered against the skull. Terrible attitude crossed his mind. A pup was in danger; what a chemically detonating thing to be heard. The brute took off, following that one strong scent painted in the den that he had previously taken refuge in. The alphess’s scent colored the area. Wherever the pup was, he was going to defend it. If it was one thing the cold brute felt, it was courage to give life to the young. He could not and would not stand the torture of a younger pup.
The brute came to a forest edge, the scent stopping directly before him. He turned around hearing the cries not too far off. Scent of blood was perfuming the clear night air. Light scent of the pack was nearby; wherever the scent led him he knew it would lead to the one in need of help. Bastard took off, nose to the ground with a snarl at his throat. His past would only haunt him like needles across his cold heart if he let this pup die; he wouldn’t allow the young one to perish so soon! Cold eyed brute came eye to eye with a daring canine. Whoever the other brute was, Emo was going to maul him. Enemy lowered his torso to the ground, claiming the air in a leap in attempt to drive Emo away. Big mistake.
Emo Song snarled like a rabid creature, lowering his torso to the snowy tundra. Neon colored nails groved into the ground, marking deep scars in the ground. Snow flew up as he too lifted up, catching the enemy by the chest and flinging him to the ground. The snow filtered into the air like dust, raining down on the contenders. Needle layered jaw snapped down over the maw of his new found sparring friend. One of them was going to walk away with that pup and it wasn’t going to be this stranger. If Emo won this battle, the alphess would most likely praise his actions.
Emo snarled, feeling the struggle of the enemy's body against his. Both wrestled around with wild snarling, yelping, crying, and barking; common battle language between to wolven creatures. Whipcord held it’s rank high as Emo stated his dominance over the stranger. He was not welcomed. After a while of fighting, the enemy would pull away, bloody and torn. His maw was bleed and he recoiled; tail between his legs and ears back. Empty eyes would look to Emo, while Emo offered a snarl with his lips turned back. He snorted, snarling again and jumping a bit forward as if to scare the other brute into more of a submission. The other turned and fled. Emo trotted to the hurt whelp, curling his body around it. He drew his paws around the pup, bringing it in close to rest against his thick furred body. Warmth was offered as he groomed the wounds upon it’s body. Tonight he’d be the one to take care of the little one.
Roleplay anything: Emo Song laid close to the den, his body curled close to keep in the heat. While the pack was gone he’d watch over the den. He hadn’t been accepted by a pack since he was a little lad. His head lay down on those abstract colored paws; nails neon and glow in the dark. He flashed a smile in the Alphess’s way, trying to make good with her. After all if he was to join, he’d have to make her comfortable. Life would never be the same for him. He was going to have to help someone other than himself. Long slithering tongue whipped out from his maw, climbing down the groom his mitts. Tassle flung behind him in a light wag; he was feeling rather childish and happy today. What strange and abnormal behavior from the normally heartless bastard. His Mohawk flashed with color and his sapphire colored orbs danced along the horizon line. Nothing new was approaching. He’d fall asleep shortly and hopefully no one would disturb him; if they did it might be the last of them.
Deep in sleep, Emo dreamt of his older pack; while in reality his legs would flitter and twitch. What a rather adorable sight from one so horrid in attitude. In his sleep he was a sweet wolf. Maybe this was what was buried beneath all that disposition of evil? Epitome of self indulgence gave a yawn, his tongue lightly lolled out between the two candy flavored lips. He’d give a light stretch before continuing onwards in his sleep. Poor guy was rather heartbroken and alone. But the way he acted, it seemed he didn’t care. Maybe he did care? Nobody would know unless one became close to him. Bastard sat upright, jerking up with eyes wide. Typical reaction to one tripping in a dream. He smacked his lips, tired eyed brute resting his head on his paws again, watching the horizon once more…