Post by kap on Oct 9, 2006 19:41:38 GMT -5
Name: they whisper Kapungen
Age: They wasted him as a six year old.
Manifestation;
Yes this is the start of your nightmare, its building blocks. On hollow legs he starts, thick bodied; Covered in that repulsive pale hue. Nothing but darkness is what is seen. Close your eye's quick, maybe you'll miss him? Then again he haunts your dreams, with that foul scar. The one that's hooked right across his chest. The one that reminds you so much of that serphent. Yet his eye's intrigue you the most. Solid, un-tamable, fierce, firm, so deadly. So cold.
Yet his fire burns with an untamable passion. A passion for something....who know's. Ah, yes the vision is almost complete as he towers over you, thick and powerful. He himself is thick and powerful as muscle is slapped souly over his body. Casting him like iron. Yet this mold isn't finished. For he still needs your screams to make those muscles work to their fullest. So stay silent if you wish to live, for if you scream, all will be over. He's procilen to an infant's eye's. A ghost amungst many.
Though some belive the achromatic apperance is a desired virtue, the virile is anything but beautiful. Ravaged by scars, his skin is loose and worn, skirting with patches where the peltage has disembersed and detatched it's self from his form. Though of of the few scars he values is that of one that trailes his demonus orange occulus. It was born after the battle with a sworn enemy, a brujen whose felsh evoked such strong loathing, it was hard to recover. The virile belives that such a mark has evoked his immortal ange, such a passion that he dares desire. His harks flop towards the ends, and his many appendages are twisted with the cracked bones that are still attempting to heal. Ravaged, the lush strings that were supossed to claim their worshiped existance along the works of his fascade are drowned away, and the twisted black skin has grown in it's place, and pelt no longer dares distrub that.
Taken a beating from years of bloodshed, the potent's tail is nothing more than a tiwsted stump of flesh, squired with the occasional cluster of ivory filament that winds it's way down the apendages existance with little care for sympathy. He is a sight worth a cursing, and canine with a passion that bestows his abhorrence that rings the very soul of his bedevilled entity.
Persona;; Kapungen's power is sublime and far from subtle; neither pelt nor posture can compare to his intellect. What creates wit, anyways? Does one have to be born into it, or can one’s true brilliance shine through, a beacon to be feared? Kapugen's promise of virtuosity was by birth, but also what he made of it.
Now, by such reasoning one cannot conclude he was not a strikingly intelligent creature in the beginning, but, his splendor was magnified by his confident, slightly belligerent nature. He is untamable and that provokes many to challenge him, and essentially, his fantastic strategies. Nevertheless, he strikes many the wrong way, which often makes him more aggressive and opinionated, but in a lush and malicious way. As mentioned above, he is extremely loyal, and his fidelity has often gotten him into trouble. Kapungen's will is iron and he is almost always wolfmatic. Show him a fault and he’ll show you perfection.
However, on the rare occasion you prove him wrong, he’ll respect your wisdom perpetually. His moods change often, but faintly, one would not label him ‘moody’. Perhaps a more fitting title would be misunderstood. Many look at him and see a troublesome, sarcastic, pugnacious pup, who is only worth what can be commandeered from his large body. But his intellect is obvious and his wit is golden if you just take the time to look. He loves to flirt and to charm, being chivalrous in a unrefined way.
Just get past his façade and he’s there, smart and humorous. Easy to tease and taunt. To get there, the only obstacles to surmount are his apparitions, his illusions. He’s an enchanter, you see what he wants you to.
*Stray, owned, or Wild: He is a savage, or course.
For his history and ancestry, that is uknown, even to the likes of himself, unfortunately.
Picture:
hmm...This, but a bit more, ragged and frankley, more ugly. See description.
www.treklens.com/gallery/Europe/Switzerland/photo21655.htm
Name the Admins/Mods: ah, yes. *ahem* The Irish Hitman, Nikki, and Tani
I read the posting rules
Age: They wasted him as a six year old.
Manifestation;
Yes this is the start of your nightmare, its building blocks. On hollow legs he starts, thick bodied; Covered in that repulsive pale hue. Nothing but darkness is what is seen. Close your eye's quick, maybe you'll miss him? Then again he haunts your dreams, with that foul scar. The one that's hooked right across his chest. The one that reminds you so much of that serphent. Yet his eye's intrigue you the most. Solid, un-tamable, fierce, firm, so deadly. So cold.
Yet his fire burns with an untamable passion. A passion for something....who know's. Ah, yes the vision is almost complete as he towers over you, thick and powerful. He himself is thick and powerful as muscle is slapped souly over his body. Casting him like iron. Yet this mold isn't finished. For he still needs your screams to make those muscles work to their fullest. So stay silent if you wish to live, for if you scream, all will be over. He's procilen to an infant's eye's. A ghost amungst many.
Though some belive the achromatic apperance is a desired virtue, the virile is anything but beautiful. Ravaged by scars, his skin is loose and worn, skirting with patches where the peltage has disembersed and detatched it's self from his form. Though of of the few scars he values is that of one that trailes his demonus orange occulus. It was born after the battle with a sworn enemy, a brujen whose felsh evoked such strong loathing, it was hard to recover. The virile belives that such a mark has evoked his immortal ange, such a passion that he dares desire. His harks flop towards the ends, and his many appendages are twisted with the cracked bones that are still attempting to heal. Ravaged, the lush strings that were supossed to claim their worshiped existance along the works of his fascade are drowned away, and the twisted black skin has grown in it's place, and pelt no longer dares distrub that.
Taken a beating from years of bloodshed, the potent's tail is nothing more than a tiwsted stump of flesh, squired with the occasional cluster of ivory filament that winds it's way down the apendages existance with little care for sympathy. He is a sight worth a cursing, and canine with a passion that bestows his abhorrence that rings the very soul of his bedevilled entity.
Persona;; Kapungen's power is sublime and far from subtle; neither pelt nor posture can compare to his intellect. What creates wit, anyways? Does one have to be born into it, or can one’s true brilliance shine through, a beacon to be feared? Kapugen's promise of virtuosity was by birth, but also what he made of it.
Now, by such reasoning one cannot conclude he was not a strikingly intelligent creature in the beginning, but, his splendor was magnified by his confident, slightly belligerent nature. He is untamable and that provokes many to challenge him, and essentially, his fantastic strategies. Nevertheless, he strikes many the wrong way, which often makes him more aggressive and opinionated, but in a lush and malicious way. As mentioned above, he is extremely loyal, and his fidelity has often gotten him into trouble. Kapungen's will is iron and he is almost always wolfmatic. Show him a fault and he’ll show you perfection.
However, on the rare occasion you prove him wrong, he’ll respect your wisdom perpetually. His moods change often, but faintly, one would not label him ‘moody’. Perhaps a more fitting title would be misunderstood. Many look at him and see a troublesome, sarcastic, pugnacious pup, who is only worth what can be commandeered from his large body. But his intellect is obvious and his wit is golden if you just take the time to look. He loves to flirt and to charm, being chivalrous in a unrefined way.
Just get past his façade and he’s there, smart and humorous. Easy to tease and taunt. To get there, the only obstacles to surmount are his apparitions, his illusions. He’s an enchanter, you see what he wants you to.
*Stray, owned, or Wild: He is a savage, or course.
For his history and ancestry, that is uknown, even to the likes of himself, unfortunately.
Picture:
hmm...This, but a bit more, ragged and frankley, more ugly. See description.
www.treklens.com/gallery/Europe/Switzerland/photo21655.htm
Name the Admins/Mods: ah, yes. *ahem* The Irish Hitman, Nikki, and Tani
I read the posting rules
