Post by TygerShore on Apr 22, 2009 17:17:13 GMT -5
(pic is her without scarred up face ))
Name: Kiraz
Gender: girl
Type: Human
Age: 17
Owned by: Captor
Position: Enslaved
Lifestyle: Worker
Residence: wherever the Captor lives
Description: Kiraz is a 5'4'' girl with a good athletic build. She can almost always be seen with a scowl on her face when in the presence of captors. She has messy rusty-brown hair that comes down to just past her shoulders in length. She has a three-clawed scar on her face that is under her right eye, running along her cheekbone. Her eyes are vived blue and have a certain gleam about them that makes others think shes just about to start a fight. When she feels that it wont get taken away from her, she wears a necklace that her mother gave her -- the necklace is a small golden chain, with an aqua blue tear-shaped pendant on it.
Personality: Kiraz is a strong willed teenager. She doesn't care about getting punished for back talking, or anything else of the sort. She has been known to even make fun of animals, and although she has been punished, has never, and probably will never learn her lesson. Kiraz is very quick to stand up for what she believes to be right, not caring if she has to look into the eyes of death to do so. Kiraz is a hard worker though, and if called lazy or anything of the sort, she will work twice as hard just to prove her point. Although Kiraz does have feisty sides, she has a soft side too. She is great with little kids, being able to have just the right tone of voice to soothe them if their sad. Kiraz loves to make up stories, and in a different life, she could've been an author. She also loves to sing, and will make up songs frequently to lighten the mood if she is in the company of other humans. Kiraz can be a loyal friend and a horrible enemy.
Wardrobe: Kiraz wears a brown shirt, as well as a pair of grey capris. She does not wear shoes, and even if she had the choice, would believe them to be quite odd, not having worn a pair of shoes her whole life.
History: Kiraz was bred in the hope of being a male, and a fighter, like her father. The captors that bred her were quite angry at the fact that she hadn't been a male, but since they believed that it was her mother's fault, they let her stay with her mother since they wouldn't use her mother for breeding anymore. Kiraz, upon reaching the age of five years, had caused too much trouble for her worth, so she was sold away from her mother. Kiraz's mother gave her the one thing that she had, before Kiraz left -- a necklace with an aqua-blue, tear shaped pendant. When her mother tried to fight the captors, to stop them from taking her little girl away, she was killed, right infront of Kiraz' young eyes. That shattered her. She was sold to a kindly old badger, whom needed help running errands and other things. The badger, wanting to be read to, and not being able to read fine print anymore, taught Kiraz how to read and write. Those were the golden days. One day, when Kiraz was nine years old, something terrible happened. The badger died. Kiraz, having heard stories of where people and animals live peaceably, decided to run for it. The animals soon caught her though, and she was bought by a captor. The captor was an eagle, who slashed her across her cheek with it's claws after she said that he was a horrible animal. She was made to work hard and long days, frequently working longer than the others because of her misbehaving. Finally the captor decided that it couldn't handle her anymore and she would make more money sold, than killed.
Family: Her Father is Max, and her Mother is dead.
Married: no
Children: no
Category: usually a field worker, but really can be used as anything -- a jack of all trades. Wants to help with the rebellion
Statistics: fighter, an avid reader and writer, and surprisingly, quite a good tracker. She can also farm if forced to.
Color: 99CCFF
Other: nope
Roleplaying Example: (from a different site)
Ranger walked through the shadows...he had heard that there was a pack meeting, and that sometimes, dogs were allowed to join at the meetings. He still wasn't sure if he wanted to join, but decided that even living with a bunch of goons was better than living by himself. He had been living by himself for about a year now...the year before that he was living with his father, and the year before that, he was a puppy growing up in a puppy farm. When he had left his father, he believed that he wanted to live alone...he had changed his mind now. Living alone meant living with the memories of all the dogs that he had killed...he didn't mind killing, just the memory of what he had actually done was the thing that haunted him. Before Ranger stepped out of the shadows, he quickly scanned the room for any traces of his father....not seeing him, he walked out, standing a little way off from the two dogs that he guessed were the leaders. Ranger had a cold look on his face, not wanting to seem weak in any way...he knew that with these dogs, if he seemed weak that would be the end of him. His ears were slightly slanted back, to show a bit of respect, but he held his head high. He hoped he was doing the right thing.
Ranger gave a slight sigh then stepped forwards. It was now or never. There was no way he try again...if he didn't get into the gang now, there was no way that he was going to keep asking....that type of thing didn't look too good on his part. No, he only had one chance.
Ranger blinked then opened his mouth to speak....he hoped it was the right time to do so..."Hello...my name is Ranger, I've come to join the pack." Ranger stated with his rough voice. Then he waited....that was all that he was going to say for now.
As the other dogs appeared, and as he waited to see if he would be accepted or not, Ranger's memories stole him away. They always had a habit of getting him at the worst possible time. He swallowed as he thought of killing his brother and sister. What would this gang make him do? He didn't care anymore though. All he needed was to be around other dogs. Ranger brought his head back up, and his mind back to reality. There was no room for memories here. This was a matter of living or dying, and one false move, he would become one with the latter.