Post by Howl Wilde on Feb 3, 2007 22:46:06 GMT -5
+your name:
Howl Wilde [howl]
+other characters RPed on DRA:
Tornac
xx.character:
xx.name:
Howl
xx.age:
12
xx.gender:
male
xx.race:
human / urgal
xx.allegiance:
independent
xx.description:
Howl is possibly the must scruffy looking child you’ll ever encounter, and that’s about all there is to it. His skin is black as soot although the dust of the desert seems to be ingrained into his skin and that turns it a pale grey in places, primarily his face, knees and elbows. His hair is pitch black, shaggy and messy, hanging to his shoulders in some places and to his ears in others, except for a bunch of dreadlocked strands that manage to reach to about the middle of his back. Some wonder if there may be short horns growing from under the thick rat’s nest of fur; they’d be right.
His eyes are a funny yellow-brown color, testimony to his mother’s heritage, set in a peculiar face. It’s well defined, with high cheekbones but also large, bony brows and a slightly flattened nose. Not exactly ugly but never going to be handsome, this young halfbreed is stuck somewhere between human and urgal. He has an animalistic violence about him that often contributes to the collection of bruises and bumps that he seems to be collecting. He has a T for thief branded in his upper arm, but he usually wears something to cover it and the small, surprisingly delicate tattoo he somehow managed to persuade someone to give him.
Young and full of savage energy, Howl bounds around the room and looks like he’ll never be tired – when he’s just walking, he still moves faster than anybody else. When he’s running, he actually looks like he’s moving more slowly than everybody else although he’s going faster – he takes long, loping strides rather than many smaller steps. He’s taller than most children his age, with muscles that are just starting to bulk up as puberty begins looming in the distance and his rough, gravelly voice is still taken to breaking on the odd occasion.
xx.personality:
This young halfbreed is a wild creature at heart – he snarls and bites, growls and hisses like an animal. And yet, there’s a sharp, instinctive intellect behind his docile bovine eyes – and, if you don’t provoke him, he’s a serious, attentive young man. When not angry or otherwise incised, he’s quiet and almost sad in personality – but this state of mind is rare for Howl; he usually ends up regressing to a feral, urgal-like state that usually results in violence.
He’s a complex little persona. Varying day by day between animal and human, in sometimes unequal measures, he can swing from a normal human urchin to a raging wolf yearling with a quarrel to settle. In fact, Howl is almost canine in many ways – if you can earn his respect and trust he’s likely to follow you around like a faithful, if someone mangy and smelly, dog; if he decides you’re his equal he’ll be loyal as a wolf protecting the rest of his pack.
xx.history:
Howl was born in the darkness of night, in the middle of the great desert. He had a twin brother, but that child died that night and was buried in the shifting sands without even a name even as Howl was first lifted to his mother’s breast. No one was sure who his father could be – the young urgal woman was without a mate and nobody wanted to claim parenthood of the scrawny, dark creature that was Howl. The clan elders wanted the child put to death, but the mother (Iska,) was protective and never let anyone come near her tiny, precious child.
Thusly, it was decided Howl would live.
Not that he was very pleased with the decision; almost as soon as his generation could stand, he was shown up to be clumsy and weak compared to his peers. He was taller than they, and faster, but speed doesn’t count for much when rank is dictated by strength. The perpetual underdog, it didn’t help that no one knew who his father was – or that his mother seemed too willing to protect him, always fussing because he had a considerably smaller amount of body mass than the other children to protect him from the cold desert nights.
Howl began to resent everything about the urgal clan that raised him – the mocking of his peers, the disdain of the adults, the cloying affection of his mother. He began to look out for a chance to escape – and he began to spend more time with the cabal of human slaves that followed the clan around than he did with the other urgals. The humans were different from him too – they were always quiet and they seemed slow compared to him, and they acted as though they were afraid of him when he growled and snarled. Despite this, they were more like him than the urgals were and it didn’t take long for him to begin figuring out who his father was – one of the slaves. How or why, Howl never understood, but the idea shocked and surprised him.
He eventually asked his mother. He was ten, gangly and tall compared to the others, but his mother just kept telling him that he was pretty and that he’d eventually bulk up like the other cubs had started doing years ago. He nodded and said, yes, sure mother, but didn’t believe her words. When he suggested on night that she had slept with a human to conceive him, she was at first aghast that he even had any idea what he was talking about, forgetting that he learned quickly and remembered much. She took him outside the cave that the clan was sheltering in and quietly told him that yes, his father was a human, who had died before his birth from being beaten to death by the clan leader.
Howl said nothing, striding off into the cold night alone. His mother started to follow him but decided to let him go – it was something he’d have to deal with on his own.
He returned as the clan was getting ready to move on and blended in with the disorganized bustle of activity, using the chaos as a cover to nick weapons, clothing and food. He managed to avoid his worrying mother, packing a human rugsack and swinging it over one shoulder before disappearing again without being noticed.
That night he’d run across a human supply train. Watching from afar, he’d gauged their direction and estimated where they would be the next morning when he returned. Now, carrying most of life in a single small bag, he followed behind the merchants like a starving dog might. He was eventually noticed and jumped on while he slept in the shadows of a dune. The humans brought him out into the light of the lanterns and he expected them to kill him for being an urgal – instead, they asked him how he could have gotten lost and where his parents were. He did a double think and thought up a story that the merchants swallowed whole. From then on, the young halfbreed traveled with rather than behind the caravan.
Not that it was an improvement – he stole things for the sake of it and the merchants weren’t too pleased with this behavior. He tried to explain that seeing something valuable just lying out for anyone to grab was just to great a temptation, but his explanations fooled no one and he was often beating for snagging small personal items such as combs or jewelry.
Needless to say, Howl stole away at the first city that the caravan put down in. He’s been living there ever since, living on his toes and surviving by his quick fingers.
xx.family:
Howl had a large family but he’s not sure where they’ve gotten to. His mother was an Urgal and his father was a human slave who didn’t know where his family was. Howl grew up thinking himself an Urgal and only ever considered his mother’s relatives his own.
xx.other:
x. occupation: thief
x. weapon: short dagger and a few knives secreted about his person
xx.rp sample:
Please to be letting me skip?
xx.code:
pomnuria
Howl Wilde [howl]
+other characters RPed on DRA:
Tornac
xx.character:
xx.name:
Howl
xx.age:
12
xx.gender:
male
xx.race:
human / urgal
xx.allegiance:
independent
xx.description:
Howl is possibly the must scruffy looking child you’ll ever encounter, and that’s about all there is to it. His skin is black as soot although the dust of the desert seems to be ingrained into his skin and that turns it a pale grey in places, primarily his face, knees and elbows. His hair is pitch black, shaggy and messy, hanging to his shoulders in some places and to his ears in others, except for a bunch of dreadlocked strands that manage to reach to about the middle of his back. Some wonder if there may be short horns growing from under the thick rat’s nest of fur; they’d be right.
His eyes are a funny yellow-brown color, testimony to his mother’s heritage, set in a peculiar face. It’s well defined, with high cheekbones but also large, bony brows and a slightly flattened nose. Not exactly ugly but never going to be handsome, this young halfbreed is stuck somewhere between human and urgal. He has an animalistic violence about him that often contributes to the collection of bruises and bumps that he seems to be collecting. He has a T for thief branded in his upper arm, but he usually wears something to cover it and the small, surprisingly delicate tattoo he somehow managed to persuade someone to give him.
Young and full of savage energy, Howl bounds around the room and looks like he’ll never be tired – when he’s just walking, he still moves faster than anybody else. When he’s running, he actually looks like he’s moving more slowly than everybody else although he’s going faster – he takes long, loping strides rather than many smaller steps. He’s taller than most children his age, with muscles that are just starting to bulk up as puberty begins looming in the distance and his rough, gravelly voice is still taken to breaking on the odd occasion.
xx.personality:
This young halfbreed is a wild creature at heart – he snarls and bites, growls and hisses like an animal. And yet, there’s a sharp, instinctive intellect behind his docile bovine eyes – and, if you don’t provoke him, he’s a serious, attentive young man. When not angry or otherwise incised, he’s quiet and almost sad in personality – but this state of mind is rare for Howl; he usually ends up regressing to a feral, urgal-like state that usually results in violence.
He’s a complex little persona. Varying day by day between animal and human, in sometimes unequal measures, he can swing from a normal human urchin to a raging wolf yearling with a quarrel to settle. In fact, Howl is almost canine in many ways – if you can earn his respect and trust he’s likely to follow you around like a faithful, if someone mangy and smelly, dog; if he decides you’re his equal he’ll be loyal as a wolf protecting the rest of his pack.
xx.history:
Howl was born in the darkness of night, in the middle of the great desert. He had a twin brother, but that child died that night and was buried in the shifting sands without even a name even as Howl was first lifted to his mother’s breast. No one was sure who his father could be – the young urgal woman was without a mate and nobody wanted to claim parenthood of the scrawny, dark creature that was Howl. The clan elders wanted the child put to death, but the mother (Iska,) was protective and never let anyone come near her tiny, precious child.
Thusly, it was decided Howl would live.
Not that he was very pleased with the decision; almost as soon as his generation could stand, he was shown up to be clumsy and weak compared to his peers. He was taller than they, and faster, but speed doesn’t count for much when rank is dictated by strength. The perpetual underdog, it didn’t help that no one knew who his father was – or that his mother seemed too willing to protect him, always fussing because he had a considerably smaller amount of body mass than the other children to protect him from the cold desert nights.
Howl began to resent everything about the urgal clan that raised him – the mocking of his peers, the disdain of the adults, the cloying affection of his mother. He began to look out for a chance to escape – and he began to spend more time with the cabal of human slaves that followed the clan around than he did with the other urgals. The humans were different from him too – they were always quiet and they seemed slow compared to him, and they acted as though they were afraid of him when he growled and snarled. Despite this, they were more like him than the urgals were and it didn’t take long for him to begin figuring out who his father was – one of the slaves. How or why, Howl never understood, but the idea shocked and surprised him.
He eventually asked his mother. He was ten, gangly and tall compared to the others, but his mother just kept telling him that he was pretty and that he’d eventually bulk up like the other cubs had started doing years ago. He nodded and said, yes, sure mother, but didn’t believe her words. When he suggested on night that she had slept with a human to conceive him, she was at first aghast that he even had any idea what he was talking about, forgetting that he learned quickly and remembered much. She took him outside the cave that the clan was sheltering in and quietly told him that yes, his father was a human, who had died before his birth from being beaten to death by the clan leader.
Howl said nothing, striding off into the cold night alone. His mother started to follow him but decided to let him go – it was something he’d have to deal with on his own.
He returned as the clan was getting ready to move on and blended in with the disorganized bustle of activity, using the chaos as a cover to nick weapons, clothing and food. He managed to avoid his worrying mother, packing a human rugsack and swinging it over one shoulder before disappearing again without being noticed.
That night he’d run across a human supply train. Watching from afar, he’d gauged their direction and estimated where they would be the next morning when he returned. Now, carrying most of life in a single small bag, he followed behind the merchants like a starving dog might. He was eventually noticed and jumped on while he slept in the shadows of a dune. The humans brought him out into the light of the lanterns and he expected them to kill him for being an urgal – instead, they asked him how he could have gotten lost and where his parents were. He did a double think and thought up a story that the merchants swallowed whole. From then on, the young halfbreed traveled with rather than behind the caravan.
Not that it was an improvement – he stole things for the sake of it and the merchants weren’t too pleased with this behavior. He tried to explain that seeing something valuable just lying out for anyone to grab was just to great a temptation, but his explanations fooled no one and he was often beating for snagging small personal items such as combs or jewelry.
Needless to say, Howl stole away at the first city that the caravan put down in. He’s been living there ever since, living on his toes and surviving by his quick fingers.
xx.family:
Howl had a large family but he’s not sure where they’ve gotten to. His mother was an Urgal and his father was a human slave who didn’t know where his family was. Howl grew up thinking himself an Urgal and only ever considered his mother’s relatives his own.
xx.other:
x. occupation: thief
x. weapon: short dagger and a few knives secreted about his person
xx.rp sample:
Please to be letting me skip?
xx.code:
pomnuria