Post by JB on May 17, 2009 16:48:06 GMT -5
Name: Gabe
Gender: Male
Type: Human
Age: 16
Owned by: Runaway
Position: N/A
Lifestyle: A nomad, he basically does whatever it takes to stay free.
Residence: None, he doesn't like to stay in one place for too long.
Description:
Gabe looks like most teenagers; young, cute, and room for a little more growing. He's 5'8” tall, though he looks as if he could grow another inch. He has a lean and muscular build; slightly narrow in the shoulders, but could possibly get a little broader. He has well muscled arms, chest, and abs, as well as a strong back and calves. Just this past season he's started to put on more muscle. His hair is a dark brown, almost black. It's short, but messy, and is longer towards the front of his skull than the back. There's also two cow-licks towards the back of his head which make his hair stick up when it gets a certain length. Gabe's eyes are a forest green color, which look like he's glaring most of the time due to the angle of his eyebrows, and the slight slant of his eyes. Also, his voice has just started to really deepen, so he still sounds a bit stuck in between a man and an older boy. His skin tone looks a little lighter than a Native American's, and he has a fair tan from being out in the sun regularly. Gabe does have a few scars on his back and arms, but they are not very distinct.
Personality:
He's not the trusting type. He has a hard time trusting other humans, and he can't stand animals, even if they are on the Rebel's side, or just hang neutral. He's not the most social person, since he mainly travels by himself, and has a hard time communicating with other people. Gabe isn't very patient, another skill he hasn't learned because of being on his own constantly. If the situation is right, he will pick fights around animals, and sometimes people. He doesn't really respect, and can act more like a five year old than a 16 year old. Since he's been on his own for a while he's developed a rather cocky streak. And sometimes has to be reminded that he's not immortal and that the world doesn't revolve around him. Gabe doesn't like it when things don't go his way, and he doesn't like asking for help outright either. One thing that Gabe's good at and likes is art. Whether it's drawing pictures in the dirt, or making something out of a stack of junk, it keeps him entertained, and happy.
Wardrobe:
He wears a pair of rather frayed light blue denim jeans, a little low on his waist, and a dirty, faded black tee shirt, that has had the sleeves ripped off of it. He doesn't wear shoes, and hasn't really been given the opportunity to steal a pair. He wears a simple, light chain-like necklace around his neck. The nicest thing he probably owns is a simple dark brown leather belt, which he stole from an animal.
History:
Gabe used to be owned by a rather mid-aged dog and his family. Around the age of nine or ten, he made a break for it and was successful at not being caught. Life seemed harder than he thought, and he hung around a small group of runaway rebels just to stay alive for the next year, before wandering off on his own.
Family: Doesn't remember, and doesn't really care either
Married: No
Children: None
Category: N/A
Statistics: N/A
Color: red
Other:
Roleplaying Example: (recycled post from Every New Day)
“Hiya, I’m Mitch!” the little colt exclaimed bouncing around the field on the tips of his toes. His unnaturally thick tail held high, swishing back and forth with a sort of pride only a two year old could have. His gait springy and confident; holding his head high, and surveying the so called new friend he had cornered.
The little colt trotted in a circle around the creature he had trapped; a porcupine. It probably wasn’t the greatest idea to trot circles around a porcupine, but Mitch didn’t have a clue in the world. Like most two year olds, he didn’t really use his head, and instinct… Well, he wasn’t paying much attention to that either. He’d been alone for a while now, and to find a creature that he’d never set eyes on before, Mitch was filled with more curiosity than fear.
His red roan coat had acquired a dusty look to it; it didn’t shine in the sunlight much. And his white pastern was a brownish yellow, even his blaze was stained an off color.
Mitch wasn’t a big horse; he stood around 14 hands high, slightly small for a quarter horse, and tiny for a thoroughbred. He was a little pudgy with his out of proportion growing. His legs were stouter built than his mothers, who had been a big brown thoroughbred. The sire had been a tall and broad chested red roan quarter horse.
Mitch leaned neither direction at the moment, but appeared to be thrown in between somewhere with a much shorter height. His legs were a bit too long for his body, and his barrel was slightly big for his hindquarters and haunches. Also, his neck was a bit thin for now, but he still had three to four more years of filling out and growing. But for now he’d be stuck as the pudgy out of proportion two year old.
He continued his prance about the porcupine and finally stopped, putting his nose down to sniff the creature. It glared at him with its beady eyes, tail swishing threateningly.
“What’s you’re name?” Mitch asked curiously sniffing the porcupine, which tensed up. An odd noise gurgled in its throat but Mitch paid no attention to it as he nudged the porcupine gently with his nose. It was prickly which fascinated him. The creature didn’t look real sharp.
“You’re funny looking,” Mitch grinned with a giggle. He pulled his nose away a little bit before something tickled it enough for him to sneeze and shake his head. The frightened porcupine bristled up and moved quickly, slapping Mitch in the nose with what tail it had.
Mitch let out a frightened and surprised squeal; rearing up and twisting away. His nose found his leg and he rubbed frantically, trying to rub the pain away. He’d gotten lucky, none of the quills had stuck in his nose, but it was red. He sneezed, licking his lips afterwards. That wasn’t a very good friend, and his nose stung now. As did his pride. Mitch raised his head and looked back after the porcupine which was trudging away. He would have to find another friend, one less dangerous and spiky.
Gender: Male
Type: Human
Age: 16
Owned by: Runaway
Position: N/A
Lifestyle: A nomad, he basically does whatever it takes to stay free.
Residence: None, he doesn't like to stay in one place for too long.
Description:
Gabe looks like most teenagers; young, cute, and room for a little more growing. He's 5'8” tall, though he looks as if he could grow another inch. He has a lean and muscular build; slightly narrow in the shoulders, but could possibly get a little broader. He has well muscled arms, chest, and abs, as well as a strong back and calves. Just this past season he's started to put on more muscle. His hair is a dark brown, almost black. It's short, but messy, and is longer towards the front of his skull than the back. There's also two cow-licks towards the back of his head which make his hair stick up when it gets a certain length. Gabe's eyes are a forest green color, which look like he's glaring most of the time due to the angle of his eyebrows, and the slight slant of his eyes. Also, his voice has just started to really deepen, so he still sounds a bit stuck in between a man and an older boy. His skin tone looks a little lighter than a Native American's, and he has a fair tan from being out in the sun regularly. Gabe does have a few scars on his back and arms, but they are not very distinct.
Personality:
He's not the trusting type. He has a hard time trusting other humans, and he can't stand animals, even if they are on the Rebel's side, or just hang neutral. He's not the most social person, since he mainly travels by himself, and has a hard time communicating with other people. Gabe isn't very patient, another skill he hasn't learned because of being on his own constantly. If the situation is right, he will pick fights around animals, and sometimes people. He doesn't really respect, and can act more like a five year old than a 16 year old. Since he's been on his own for a while he's developed a rather cocky streak. And sometimes has to be reminded that he's not immortal and that the world doesn't revolve around him. Gabe doesn't like it when things don't go his way, and he doesn't like asking for help outright either. One thing that Gabe's good at and likes is art. Whether it's drawing pictures in the dirt, or making something out of a stack of junk, it keeps him entertained, and happy.
Wardrobe:
He wears a pair of rather frayed light blue denim jeans, a little low on his waist, and a dirty, faded black tee shirt, that has had the sleeves ripped off of it. He doesn't wear shoes, and hasn't really been given the opportunity to steal a pair. He wears a simple, light chain-like necklace around his neck. The nicest thing he probably owns is a simple dark brown leather belt, which he stole from an animal.
History:
Gabe used to be owned by a rather mid-aged dog and his family. Around the age of nine or ten, he made a break for it and was successful at not being caught. Life seemed harder than he thought, and he hung around a small group of runaway rebels just to stay alive for the next year, before wandering off on his own.
Family: Doesn't remember, and doesn't really care either
Married: No
Children: None
Category: N/A
Statistics: N/A
Color: red
Other:
Roleplaying Example: (recycled post from Every New Day)
“Hiya, I’m Mitch!” the little colt exclaimed bouncing around the field on the tips of his toes. His unnaturally thick tail held high, swishing back and forth with a sort of pride only a two year old could have. His gait springy and confident; holding his head high, and surveying the so called new friend he had cornered.
The little colt trotted in a circle around the creature he had trapped; a porcupine. It probably wasn’t the greatest idea to trot circles around a porcupine, but Mitch didn’t have a clue in the world. Like most two year olds, he didn’t really use his head, and instinct… Well, he wasn’t paying much attention to that either. He’d been alone for a while now, and to find a creature that he’d never set eyes on before, Mitch was filled with more curiosity than fear.
His red roan coat had acquired a dusty look to it; it didn’t shine in the sunlight much. And his white pastern was a brownish yellow, even his blaze was stained an off color.
Mitch wasn’t a big horse; he stood around 14 hands high, slightly small for a quarter horse, and tiny for a thoroughbred. He was a little pudgy with his out of proportion growing. His legs were stouter built than his mothers, who had been a big brown thoroughbred. The sire had been a tall and broad chested red roan quarter horse.
Mitch leaned neither direction at the moment, but appeared to be thrown in between somewhere with a much shorter height. His legs were a bit too long for his body, and his barrel was slightly big for his hindquarters and haunches. Also, his neck was a bit thin for now, but he still had three to four more years of filling out and growing. But for now he’d be stuck as the pudgy out of proportion two year old.
He continued his prance about the porcupine and finally stopped, putting his nose down to sniff the creature. It glared at him with its beady eyes, tail swishing threateningly.
“What’s you’re name?” Mitch asked curiously sniffing the porcupine, which tensed up. An odd noise gurgled in its throat but Mitch paid no attention to it as he nudged the porcupine gently with his nose. It was prickly which fascinated him. The creature didn’t look real sharp.
“You’re funny looking,” Mitch grinned with a giggle. He pulled his nose away a little bit before something tickled it enough for him to sneeze and shake his head. The frightened porcupine bristled up and moved quickly, slapping Mitch in the nose with what tail it had.
Mitch let out a frightened and surprised squeal; rearing up and twisting away. His nose found his leg and he rubbed frantically, trying to rub the pain away. He’d gotten lucky, none of the quills had stuck in his nose, but it was red. He sneezed, licking his lips afterwards. That wasn’t a very good friend, and his nose stung now. As did his pride. Mitch raised his head and looked back after the porcupine which was trudging away. He would have to find another friend, one less dangerous and spiky.