Post by Malice on Apr 8, 2007 15:22:38 GMT
Name: Wraith
Age: 16
Physical Appearance: In her human skin, she is pale, and has black hair that falls just below her chest. Her hair has red tips.
Weapons: A slim short-sword made of dragon-bone. Teeth, claws.
Personality: She is somewhat crazy, being half werewolf, and half vampire. Her Turning was especially painful, and she has lost most of her memory of her human life. Although she is physically attractive, men tend to stay away from her because of the wraith-like appearance of her movements. She tends to be sadistic, and enjoys slaughtering.
History: She was turned by a werewolf, then nearly immediately after was turning by a vampire. She knows almost nothing of her history as a human.
Intro:
Shadows don't talk. But they did dance. Shadows were like ghosts of fire. She is one of them. A shadow. Something that is seen, but not notice... never spoken to... never feared. At least, she used to be. But she had new blood now. She could feel it burning through her veins, transforming her, telling mighty stories. It brought with it the scent of a forest,and the metallic taste of blood. Somewhere in her head, a wolf howled.
Images flashed through her head. She knew they were of her own life, but she viewed them with a detachment that was not fit for a human soul. But she wasn't human anymore, was she? Since the Beast had bitten her, she hadn't been human. The pain was unbearable. Blood. Death. New life.
Something... in her head. Words. They floated around like a curse, or a warning.
Through the forest you run at night,
the hunting with the pack...
With razor claws, and hungry maws,
the preybeasts they attack...
With speed unknown and caution thrown,
unto the wind they fly...
Drawn for all time, for forgotten crime
to the sound of a human's cry...
With swiftness and ferocity,
their thirst for the hunt will quench...
And all around, upon the ground,
blood will the grasses drench...
Until the dawn, the time upon
which they must all return...
Unto the form, which seems but gorm
Away from the shape they yearn...
Come one, come all, but don't you fall
behind, or there you'll stay...
Come join at night, whilst moon shines bright,
Ye fugitives of the day...
And if you join our number,
then you'll stay You will, you must...
For foolish is the person who betrays
The pack's beloved trust...
Her hair was black. Had it always been that way? Laying against her skin - that was as pale as snow? Memory failed her. In the few precious moments that she was free from the pain, she viewed her self in a mirror. Her eyes were black. Like a dog's. The pain hit again. Then, sweet blackness enveloped her.
Age: 16
Physical Appearance: In her human skin, she is pale, and has black hair that falls just below her chest. Her hair has red tips.
Weapons: A slim short-sword made of dragon-bone. Teeth, claws.
Personality: She is somewhat crazy, being half werewolf, and half vampire. Her Turning was especially painful, and she has lost most of her memory of her human life. Although she is physically attractive, men tend to stay away from her because of the wraith-like appearance of her movements. She tends to be sadistic, and enjoys slaughtering.
History: She was turned by a werewolf, then nearly immediately after was turning by a vampire. She knows almost nothing of her history as a human.
Intro:
Shadows don't talk. But they did dance. Shadows were like ghosts of fire. She is one of them. A shadow. Something that is seen, but not notice... never spoken to... never feared. At least, she used to be. But she had new blood now. She could feel it burning through her veins, transforming her, telling mighty stories. It brought with it the scent of a forest,and the metallic taste of blood. Somewhere in her head, a wolf howled.
Images flashed through her head. She knew they were of her own life, but she viewed them with a detachment that was not fit for a human soul. But she wasn't human anymore, was she? Since the Beast had bitten her, she hadn't been human. The pain was unbearable. Blood. Death. New life.
Something... in her head. Words. They floated around like a curse, or a warning.
Through the forest you run at night,
the hunting with the pack...
With razor claws, and hungry maws,
the preybeasts they attack...
With speed unknown and caution thrown,
unto the wind they fly...
Drawn for all time, for forgotten crime
to the sound of a human's cry...
With swiftness and ferocity,
their thirst for the hunt will quench...
And all around, upon the ground,
blood will the grasses drench...
Until the dawn, the time upon
which they must all return...
Unto the form, which seems but gorm
Away from the shape they yearn...
Come one, come all, but don't you fall
behind, or there you'll stay...
Come join at night, whilst moon shines bright,
Ye fugitives of the day...
And if you join our number,
then you'll stay You will, you must...
For foolish is the person who betrays
The pack's beloved trust...
Her hair was black. Had it always been that way? Laying against her skin - that was as pale as snow? Memory failed her. In the few precious moments that she was free from the pain, she viewed her self in a mirror. Her eyes were black. Like a dog's. The pain hit again. Then, sweet blackness enveloped her.