Post by Gangstur Dee:3 on Dec 20, 2008 18:57:24 GMT -5
[/size][/color]TELL ME WHERE YOU WANT IT DONE. AT THE MALL, IN THE HALL, ON YOUR MOM'S BEDROOM WALL.
Name:
Brokencyde.
Age:
one and a half.
Sex:
male.
Breed:
sexy ass mutt. [Mackenzie River Husky x Austrian Short hair Pinscher x Karelian Bear Dog x Elk hound]
Personality:
[rude X careless X arrogant X lewd X egotistical X envious]
'Don't judge a book by its cover' is a very literal term when it comes to this youngster. Or, physically a youngster anyways. Cyde takes nothing seriously, and when he does it has to be very reasonable. Rapes, murders; they're all just jokes to him. Well, he acts like they are. In reality, he's just hiding behind a mask of regret and misery. Yes. You could consider him mysterious and definitely a very good actor. But there's one thing about him, he can't seem to control this deep lust he endures when seeing any female in Cairoco. He wants to screw with them more than you could imagine. He's a young pup that simply wants what he cannot obtain.
Physical Description:
Very appealing to the eye. Brokencyde is a long haired mutt, coloured with a variety of shades. Those being a very dark brown twisting together with a black. These patches are layered on top of a very thick, smooth, coating of white. His eyes are a light brown and is a rather medium-sized canine for his age.
*History:
i'll pass, thanks.
*Image:
again. ^
How did you find the site?:
Ath and Bruis.
Rp Sample:
[copied and pasted from CC using my character Erik. i'm waaayyy too lazy to make one up by myself.]
It was all virtually clear to him now. Firstly, he was on half dead...or was it half alive? Secondly, he never would be the same canine he once was, those beatings and punishments would no longer occur. And lastly, he would most everything to keep himself alive. The damned tried their hardest to rid of the 'devil's beast'. Ahh, the blood. Flecks of it splattered, daily. the scent was the same each time. Occasionally, it grew richer, but that was only after the damned had consumed meat, or, blood, if you will. Soon enough he found his cranium in a situation words could never possibly describe. Come to think of it, the scene was much too brutal to be reenacted in his mental visions. His least favorite act, was the tank. That was positively gruesome, the black waters refused to let the canine breathe. And struggling wasn't a fair option, the metal chains were far too strong for the mutt to be released. Luckily, he only endured that once. It was bitter and far more terrifying than terror itself. The pleasure of begin rescued by that flattering female was a wonderful accomplishment on her mark. Ever since that day, that time that seemed to be thousands of years ago...he always wondered; why? The same question was to be repeated over again. Why? Why would such an attractive lady send the devil's beast to a haven? Well, Erik hardly considered this a haven, it was hell, but not quite as horrific. He recalled each of her words soothed into a perfect note. They were sung without a flaw, Erik even remembered what she'd sung to him, well....said. But his torture damaged his brain, bringing him to believe all dialogue as music.
You're no beast, Erik. Your face may be torn and your eyes are wary. But promise me, dear Erik, not to claim revenge. You're good, I know it! Believe in me, Erik. I'm off now, destiny calls, I'm off! I'm off now, Erik.
The melody was strictly directed to him and only him. He could tell by the way she pronounced his name that she wasn't like the others. She was made of good. But he, not knowing the 'true' definition of speech heard her opera as a delicate sign of fond attraction. Erik, not returning the same feelings he thought she was expressing, escaped from the 'chamber' she'd brought him to. The pride that rumbled deep down inside the malice canine's chest was only because he knew he'd discover something he'd regret. But, he knew he wouldn't be the tortured one now. Not even daring to listen to the stranger female, he found revenge as a bittersweet reward. The damage he inflicted was fatal, always. Warnings were hardly fair, why would he let one rejoice for the freedom they'd received, while he'd let countless die on the spot?
Hmm, fall. The most dull seasons in all of Cairoco, but Erik was at peace, slumbering under a car. It's rusty protection wasn't really worth crawling under for, but he did so anyways. Everything was calm, and silent, too. Yawning, he bumped his skull onto the automobile. Brown eyes flashed open, foul language spat, er...sung, out from his lips. Not appreciative, at all, for drifting into a deep sleep, for he'd forgotten his cramped position. His good day had been ruined, but he'd make it up, sooner or later.
YOU CAN CHOSE. EITHER WAY, YOU'LL END UP ON THE NEWS.
