Post by Comma on Dec 23, 2008 1:24:40 GMT -5
Name: Comma
Age: Two Years
Sex: Female
Breed: Rottweiler
Personality: Comma is very loud and very opinionated. She's always got something to say about everything. Its not that she's a jerk on purpose; she just doesn't see the reason to not say whats on her mind. However, her outlook on life is generally optimistic in its own, oddly-perspective'd way. Outgoing and charismatic, Comma in no way shrinks away from attention. In fact, she thrives in it. She's a people person. Comma is still young, and with that, comes a malleable personality. She's still quite dynamic and subject to change before her true personality solidifies. But she's got the basics covered.
Physical Description: Comma has the standard look for her breed - floppy ears, typical black-with-brown-points, and the intimidating bulk. (However, her size is considerably lesser than some of her breed.)
*History: nonono. Not yet.
*Image: Click
How did you find the site?: RPGC
Rp Sample: In an utterly perplexing mood, Cancer had ventured up up and up to the top of the old skyscraper building... to see if it really did scrape the sky. The mutt was rather disappointed to find that it did not do as the name suggested. But, he wasn't exactly sure of what he had been expecting. Perhaps the ultimate adventure that he could stumble across, something new he hadn't dealt with before. A magic, cure-all for his more commonly occurring bored funks.
To tell the truth, Cancer was getting worried. He'd noticed a decline in his adventurous moods. And he was feeling calmer. He actually could sit and think about things. He was never able to do it before. Maybe he was getting sick. The Akita mix was tentative to question the unknown... Especially the possibility that he was growing up.
Cancer, at four years old, was in no way shape or form ready to grow up and leave his extended puphood.
Briskly padding through the scattered junk; papers, rusted file cabinets, desks... Cancer spotted a chair with wheels, the back busted out and stuffing protruding like dirty off-white clouds. Picking up his pace, he hopped onto the seat, letting the gentle momentum carry him over to the window. He stopped against the wall with a slight thud. Sighing heavily, Cancer gazed down at the streets below, obviously a little displaced.
Age: Two Years
Sex: Female
Breed: Rottweiler
Personality: Comma is very loud and very opinionated. She's always got something to say about everything. Its not that she's a jerk on purpose; she just doesn't see the reason to not say whats on her mind. However, her outlook on life is generally optimistic in its own, oddly-perspective'd way. Outgoing and charismatic, Comma in no way shrinks away from attention. In fact, she thrives in it. She's a people person. Comma is still young, and with that, comes a malleable personality. She's still quite dynamic and subject to change before her true personality solidifies. But she's got the basics covered.
Physical Description: Comma has the standard look for her breed - floppy ears, typical black-with-brown-points, and the intimidating bulk. (However, her size is considerably lesser than some of her breed.)
*History: nonono. Not yet.
*Image: Click
How did you find the site?: RPGC
Rp Sample: In an utterly perplexing mood, Cancer had ventured up up and up to the top of the old skyscraper building... to see if it really did scrape the sky. The mutt was rather disappointed to find that it did not do as the name suggested. But, he wasn't exactly sure of what he had been expecting. Perhaps the ultimate adventure that he could stumble across, something new he hadn't dealt with before. A magic, cure-all for his more commonly occurring bored funks.
To tell the truth, Cancer was getting worried. He'd noticed a decline in his adventurous moods. And he was feeling calmer. He actually could sit and think about things. He was never able to do it before. Maybe he was getting sick. The Akita mix was tentative to question the unknown... Especially the possibility that he was growing up.
Cancer, at four years old, was in no way shape or form ready to grow up and leave his extended puphood.
Briskly padding through the scattered junk; papers, rusted file cabinets, desks... Cancer spotted a chair with wheels, the back busted out and stuffing protruding like dirty off-white clouds. Picking up his pace, he hopped onto the seat, letting the gentle momentum carry him over to the window. He stopped against the wall with a slight thud. Sighing heavily, Cancer gazed down at the streets below, obviously a little displaced.