One coywolf's trash is another pack's treasure.

Bangle Guffawri · 11-07-2010, 06:11 PM

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You can call me..

ooc: Thank you Skye for the purdy table And 3 points.

Character Birthdate (including year): October 26th, 2006
Species: Coywolf (About 60% Red wolf and 40% Coyote)
Gender: Male
Preferred Ark Rank: Craftsman
A Secondary Form of Contact: AIM - Roomwifamoose / MSN - oulessblood@hotmail.com">soulessblood@hotmail.com
Currently Played Characters: Malachi!
How You Found 'Souls: Your momma :o

A little tune hung on his lips as Bangle began to whistle, one arm gripping the handle of the backpack/trading cart that was folded neatly behind his back, and the other swinging freely at his side. The coywolf found these lands rather interesting the further he traveled, his large ears, almost too big for his head, perked high to catch any strange sounds nearby. His whistling was nearly drowned out by the things that he carried and some that swung freely around the belt at his waist. Beads of all sizes and colors clacked together, and the knocking of several animal skulls joined in with the tune.

The male carried the rhythm along as he traveled near the large river, attempting to find a smoother pathway than having to walk through several bushes and having his merchandise get stuck on the occasional branch or rock. Bangle wasn't all too sure where he was going, but over the years he had learned to trust his instincts and just go along as smoothly as the flow of water. The sun was burning bright that afternoon, making nearly everything within miles, even when in the dense trees, visible.

"Ahh.. hm!" He mused to himself, stopping by a rather large boulder that resided near the riverbank. Behind it was a small pathway, with trees hugging the left and right of it. The male took note of his next direction as he hefted his shoulders free of his backpack, and placed it down on the ground gently. The large horned skull still hung strapped to his back, supported by a thin rope around his multicolored neck. Waltzing over to the water, he leaned down and scooped up some water to wash his face with. The bangles on his arms, the necklaces and bone neck-piece he wore all cluttered together with noise as he made the movements. Running a claw through his beaded, red-gray dreadlocks, he walked on back to the rock.

As the coywolf sat down on the boulder, as the left half of it flattened out, he unhitched his lute from his belt, which he almost never took off. He faced the pathway he had yet to walk, but figured a good rest would do him some good. Crossing his legs, his draped loincloth tightening as he did so, Bangle instinctively put the lute to his chest and began to play it. Softly, at first, to find the proper tune he was looking for, and then he really got into the music. He closed his eyes and let his fingers do the work on the strings, his dangling foot moving with the beat.

"Slickmaw"

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