Character Birthdate: 12 October 2009
Gender: Male
Species: Hoary Bat
Is your character a Luperci?: --
Other 'Souls Characters:--
How you found 'Souls?: Link on RoT
Are you joining a pack?: Loner
If joining a pack, are you joining IC or OOC?: --
Character profile or three writing examples: http://www.soulsrpg.com/ipb/memberlist.php?mode=viewprofile&u=3070
Example One:
The wilderness was his playground. The city, with its polluted hubbub and maze of flickering lights, was of course captivating in its own right. Its humming activity attracted Boo like a firefly to a lantern, gorged him on opportunities to explore, to get up to all sorts of urban mischief, but, mostly, he went there for the social comfort. He was not a solitary creature, that much was obvious and he craved companionship. Then, of course, there were the boys. Oh, such wonderful boys. Yet, despite those delightful attractions, it couldn’t, ever, live up to the wonders that the wilds presented. The open space was his to command, his to play with and he seized that privilege, moulding those expanses of untamed world into his own, personal wonderland. True, boys were difficult to find unless, perhaps, you lived in a fairytale, but Boo, being the simple wolf he was, found friends in others. Animals; beasts, birds, insects, all fell victim to his doting friendship. If even they were scarce, Boo would dream up fairies, nymphs, even beasts of odd proportions, anything that would quell the loneliness that so quickly consumed him like a bout of the plague. Somehow, someway, he found them all and he loved them until his heart ached.
He had found a temporary home in the forest, a comfortable hovel in the blanketed undergrowth padded out with feathers and moss. With no such place for him in the city he would often retreat here for the night, remaining in his wolf form as he slept. It was reaching midday when he finally awoke, a distant, rumbling roar jarring him from his dreamland. Without so much as a yawn, Boo bounded out from his shallow tunnel, tail already wagging. Someone was here and he was going to find them. He shot through the forest, gangly legs speeding him on in that ungainly gait of his. It didn’t take him long to find the great bulk of Jaguar that loped across the forest floor and, without even breaking stride, he leapt at the spotted figure. No doubt the feline had heard him approaching, quiet was not his forte after all, but his sudden appearance from the bracken, blunt muzzle plastered with a grin that threatened to split his face in two, was undoubtedly shocking. An excited squeal ripped from his vocal cords and, half slung over the Jaguar, he oohed and ahhed with great delight. “Say, where did you get these peculiar spotted pyjamas?”
Example Two:
It was late. Or early, depending on how you looked at it. Either way, the ebb and flow of bodies hadn't ceased. Men strode in, they staggered out, an outward transgression that smothered the internal pleasure they paid to experience. Rudii passed them all, wrapped tightly in his own little bubble of whimsy and childish euphoria. Secluded in his wonderland, Rudii had spent the hours of his shift darting between bodies, moving to his own erratic beat as he swept his cloth over the extravagant wooden décor of the whore house, granting it salvation from the smudged finger prints and tacky water rings of sweating glasses. He was, after a quick waltz around a pair of whores, dry humping for the delight of their harem of customers, back at the little cupboard where his array of cleaning weaponry was kept. His next port of call was the bathroom floor, something a good mopping would satisfy.
Mop in hand, Rudii trotted round the corner. A vacant corridor, swathed in dim, orange light stretched out before him. His mind began to race. He had a whole corridor. And a mop. A lopsided grin cut a toothy crescent into his face as his fingers curled tightly around the wooden handle which he had wedged snuggly between his arm and his ribs. "A joust? A joust you say? Very well young knight, we shall joust!" A snort passed the boy's lips, his foot pawing impatiently at the panelled floor. He raised his free hand, tugging at the musky air. "Woah! Woah, boy! Wait, wait!” What a spritely young stallion he had. He sized up his opponent. Hah! He would be no match for him, Sir Rudolph, Lord of the western corridor! ”Chaaaaaarge!” Thundering hooves glided through clouds of dust, carrying the two knights closer to one another. Rumbling cheers. A lowered lance. Steady. Direct hit! The other knight, his full chest plate dented from the blow, toppled from his steed and into the plumes of dust that slunk along the stadium floor. Rudii laughed with delight and spurred his horse into a victory lap of his narrow domain. ”Huzzah!” He was magnificent! He was glorious! He was…tumbling to the floor.
He hadn’t seen the two bartenders, one balancing a tray of drink, the other a platter of fancy looking hors d’oeuvres, emerge from one of the doors that studded the corridor. They too had failed to see the boy, a mess of curly hair and gangly limbs, come charging towards them brandishing a mop until he was upon them. Rudii, quite dazed by his unexpected fall, sat back groggily on his heels, staring stupidly at the tangled bodies slick with alcohol and blushing shrimp. The moment passed. Their faces creased with anger. Rudii giggled. Oh, young knight, you are so terribly clumsy. He left his lance where it had fallen, scrambling to his feet just before the bigger of the two men could wrap a large hand around his ankle.
The pursuit was loud, full of frantic footsteps, strings of profanity and raucous laughter. Rudii was having a great time, darting through crowds and cutting across rooms at an ungainly gallop, swerving to avoid any fingers that reached for him. It was now his third circuit round the building and, for the third time, he found himself in the lobby. He skidded to a halt. A pause for breath. His body quivered from the thrill of the chase, the chase that was tailing after him at an alarming rate. A game of hide and seek wouldn’t go amiss right now… Rudii’s gaze fell onto a lone figure, a recognisable one too. ”Mister Hunter, sir,” he whispered, his words interrupted by ragged breath. ”Don’t let them get me, pretend I’m not here!” He smiled at his employer, eyes glistening with the childish glee of a boy who’d just done something really rather naughty. He gave him a kiss on the cheek, to seal the deal politely of course, and dived behind the sofa the angelic man was seated upon. He peered over the sofa’s lip, peering out at the commotion he’d caused. ”Shhh, it’s a secret!” he hissed into the man’s ear as his pursuers emerged, red faced, into the crowded room. One last giggle was all that could be heard before Rudii ducked back down. Down behind the hopeful compliance of his boss.
Example Three:
No man could sit here alone, his hands, his eyes restricted to the bruised expanse of the table before him. No man, except, perhaps, one. Noah had already attracted some strange looks this evening. They had followed him from the bar, accompanied by gossiping whispers. It was the orange juice that had done it. Its vibrancy resonated above their small glasses of clear, searing liquid, their bitter bottles of dark beer. The offending glass had long since been drained, its translucent sides clouded by the veins of the freshly squeezed fruit. Yet the looks kept coming. Performer after performer, boy after boy, they kept on coming, they kept on going, repeatedly spurned by a cold expression and tightly pressed lips. They were not welcome there in that lonely corner no matter how sultry their bodies, how seductive their words. They would slink off wearing scowls and hissing stinging words. Frigid. Dickhead. Asshole. They soon learnt not to come.
Still, Noah waited.
He had been assigned one boy in particular, one of the best his mentor had been told. If, the young host had added, anyone could break that frozen exterior, it was him. His master had scoffed at that, a sound that had offended the optimistic host. If that were true then he'd fork over another few thousand. A bet was made. They'd shaken on it. The handsome englishman was confident of his little protigee. He'd brought him up well and he doubted his pockets would dribble a single penny more.
Noah had paid little attention to the bet. He had resigned hismelf to his thoughts, thoughts that circled around the clean up job he'd had that morning. It had been a simple operation. The victim had been oblivious until the cold bite of sharpened steel tore open his stomach and his face landed in his breakfast. But by that time he was already dead. Noah ran a ghostly finger through a circle of condensation left by his glass, collecting the tepid droplets on his skin. The man's innards had been awfully red. They hadn't matched his carpet in the least. Watery eyes slipped towards the dancefloor. His whore was ten minutes late. One body broke away from the rest, young and eager, but he was dragged back by an experienced arm, whispered to. A bemused expression crossed the young face before he melted back into the crowd. Another look to add to the tally. Noah shifted his gaze back to the table, away from the rhythmic chaos.
His whore was fifteen minutes late.
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