Post by Josse King on Jun 29, 2010 1:37:13 GMT -5
Being born is like being kidnapped.
And then sold into slavery.
[/size][/right][/font]Name: Josse Anthony King
Age: 24
Gender: male
Sexuality: bisexual, with a stronger leniency towards females (single)
Shift: Painted Dog
Appearance: If not noticeable in the photo, he is blessed with brown hair and blue eyes. A little scruffy around the edges, but that’s quite alright.
Personality: Rather pompous due to his studying, Josse is a charismatic and stubborn fool who borders the line between genius and psychotic. Graduating from high school and college at relatively young ages, Josse moved to broaden his horizons more with literature—and in it found his muse. Writing has led Josse to become slightly less public, more arrogant, and socially pompous, and yet has the humor of a fraternal society sophomore. His words can jump from biting to poetic in an instant. It is not unheard of for him to ramble into a vocal discord, as his muse continuously works.
History: Josse’s childhood was fairly normal—nothing out of the ordinary. He was born and raised in Africa, to a French mother and English father there for work. His father, a missionary teacher who ran a school for the native children, established a root love of William Shakespeare in the boyish Josse, who took that love with him when he went to secondary school, college, and eventually school for his Master’s education. He discovered he was a shapeshifter at a relatively young age, whilst playing with some native children. As he transitioned, the children were both awed and terrified; they ran to their elders and told stories of a demon in their friend. The elders, after trials of exorcism and prayer, resorted to banishing Josse and his family from their village. They moved, but not far, and Josse quickly learned to keep his ability a secret from his superstitious neighbors.
From there, not much else occurred. He continued school, graduating secondary at 15 and receiving his Bachelor’s degree at 19. His young age and quick pen asserted him strongly in the academic and creative world; he is now the author of two historical fiction novels, and various articles on Shakespearean Literature. Moving to the “country” was a way to calm himself down and distance himself from the higher life he had been living, as well as begin to face the shifter inside of him, which had been reviving itself more and more over the past few years.
Occupations: English professor, writer
Residence: Origin Apartments
Pets: none
Likes: Literature, poetry, nature, Shakespeare, hiking, writing, cooking, reading
Dislikes: critics (ignorant ones), movies based off books, someone ruining HIS good time
Hobbies: reading, writing, annotating literature, irritating and demeaning the public
Other: will edit if need be.
Sample:
It was cold, the air dank from the lake above him, brought down as it dripped every so often onto the magical barrier cast ages ago. The Slytherin common room, never a place for hustle and bustle, was quiet. The slightest sound prickled through the air, like a shiver across skin, settling into the stone floor. More like a prison than a commons, the room flickered in its candlelight, setting grotesque shadows onto the walls.
Lucian sat near the crackling fireplace, content in an over sized, emerald armchair, worn from years of use. The Slytherin crests, stitched on ornate, heavy tapestries, hung next to the fireplace, still as shadows danced upon them. He crossed his legs loosely and sighed, closing the book he hand been reading on his lap, holding his place with a slender finger. Reflections of light from the fire flicked across his pale skin, brushing between shadow and illumination.
A soft noise drifted through the common room and Lucian turned his head, face expressionless in the dim light. A small smile bloomed on his lips; they parted for a single word, "Charlotte," he sighed, moving his book from his lap to place on the floor, his page now marked by a folded corner. A sleek cat, musky green eyes smoldering in the firelight, pounced upon the arm of the grand chair, landing lightly on the firm fabric. A deep, throaty purr echoed in her throat as she walked lightly across this lap, arching her back as Lucian reached a pale but beautiful hand to stroke the Russian Blue's fur.
The cat continued to purr as she circled his lap and lay upon it, closing her bright eyes against the fire. Lucian resumed stroking her softly, his head leaning back slightly as his shocking blue-green eyes closed. The silence of the common room was welcome, although some might deem it the silence of death. Lucian didn’t mind the air of the Slytherin house; in truth he found it quite comfortable to sit in silence and read, rather than be surrounded by a bunch of nitwit Gryffindors or pompous Ravenclaws. And hex him, should he be forced to spend an hour with a gaggle of Hufflepuffs. He’d rather hang himself, than go through that sort of torture. No, he much preferred Slytherin, where the purebloods, and most powerful of the wizarding community, he’d wager, resided.
He opened his eyes to glance down at Charlotte, who had stopped purring. Asleep at last, he thought, giving her one last stroke before leaning down to pick up his book. Continuing where he had stopped, he lost himself to silence once more, content with his surroundings.
But the silence was broken as a thump echoed through the common room, bouncing off the stone walls. Charlotte rose slowly from Lucian’s lap, stretched, and jumped from her place, walking with a nonchalant air back to the spiraling stairs to the dormitories to continue her nap in peace. Lucian sighed, cracking his book shut again, placing it at his side. The thump, it had seemed, was the noise of the main entrance closing, the painting that covered the archway slamming shut. He sat in the chair, one leg over the other again, hands folded on his lap. His face remained expressionless in the flickering light of the fire.
Lucian sat near the crackling fireplace, content in an over sized, emerald armchair, worn from years of use. The Slytherin crests, stitched on ornate, heavy tapestries, hung next to the fireplace, still as shadows danced upon them. He crossed his legs loosely and sighed, closing the book he hand been reading on his lap, holding his place with a slender finger. Reflections of light from the fire flicked across his pale skin, brushing between shadow and illumination.
A soft noise drifted through the common room and Lucian turned his head, face expressionless in the dim light. A small smile bloomed on his lips; they parted for a single word, "Charlotte," he sighed, moving his book from his lap to place on the floor, his page now marked by a folded corner. A sleek cat, musky green eyes smoldering in the firelight, pounced upon the arm of the grand chair, landing lightly on the firm fabric. A deep, throaty purr echoed in her throat as she walked lightly across this lap, arching her back as Lucian reached a pale but beautiful hand to stroke the Russian Blue's fur.
The cat continued to purr as she circled his lap and lay upon it, closing her bright eyes against the fire. Lucian resumed stroking her softly, his head leaning back slightly as his shocking blue-green eyes closed. The silence of the common room was welcome, although some might deem it the silence of death. Lucian didn’t mind the air of the Slytherin house; in truth he found it quite comfortable to sit in silence and read, rather than be surrounded by a bunch of nitwit Gryffindors or pompous Ravenclaws. And hex him, should he be forced to spend an hour with a gaggle of Hufflepuffs. He’d rather hang himself, than go through that sort of torture. No, he much preferred Slytherin, where the purebloods, and most powerful of the wizarding community, he’d wager, resided.
He opened his eyes to glance down at Charlotte, who had stopped purring. Asleep at last, he thought, giving her one last stroke before leaning down to pick up his book. Continuing where he had stopped, he lost himself to silence once more, content with his surroundings.
But the silence was broken as a thump echoed through the common room, bouncing off the stone walls. Charlotte rose slowly from Lucian’s lap, stretched, and jumped from her place, walking with a nonchalant air back to the spiraling stairs to the dormitories to continue her nap in peace. Lucian sighed, cracking his book shut again, placing it at his side. The thump, it had seemed, was the noise of the main entrance closing, the painting that covered the archway slamming shut. He sat in the chair, one leg over the other again, hands folded on his lap. His face remained expressionless in the flickering light of the fire.
Do I fit in here?
[/size][/right][/i]Diet: Somewhat higher class, with snacks consisting of fruits, vegetables, cheese and crackers. Meals consist of home-made cuisine Josse prepares himself, but nothing with shellfish. He also prefers red meat to white meat, but will settle for white when money is low. Wine and water are his choice drinks; never milk or juice.
Skills: Incredible writing and analytical skills. Impossible sense of humor (somewhat sadistic and sarcastic, yet remarkably intelligent). When in canine form: strong sense of smell, agility, and speed.
Schooling: Bachelors in English, continued on for a Masters in Shakespearean literature, then another Masters in education.
Habits: Pen-tapping (on various objects, and to simple and complex beats) and chewing, voicing his opinion rather loudly and brashly.
Criminal Record: none
The woman behind the
mask.[/right][/font][/size]Roleplaying Experience: a lot of years. Like… eight. Or nine. I’m not sure. Should be around nine, since it will be ten next summer. So yes, nine.
Sample:
He didn't want them to hear him. Not like this.
Jake curled his arms around his knees tighter, head blazing with anger. He hadn't been there to help her, to stop her from falling...
The images burst back into his brain, following each other in a stop-motion video. Renesmee coming towards him, tiny body bursting with excitement, a blush on her face as the cold wind caught her skin. He loved the fact that she could blush, that her heart beat... that she was living. It made him live for something, when he could see her breathing, her chest and stomach rising and falling with the mindless action. She didn't have to pretend to breathe, like her parents. She was alive, real.
And that made her fragile, didn't it?
Jake knew that she wasn't necessarily fragile, but his overprotective, bonded heart did little to help him believe that fact. And today, when he'd stopped by to see her, he hadn't been able to catch her as she had a quick tumble down the porch steps, bruising her knees and scraping her arm. If he'd been faster, stronger, more...connected... he could have stopped it. Renesmee needed to be flawless. And because of him, she wasn't anymore.
He held back the tears, gripping his legs and shoving his face in-between his knees. Jacob had always been this way, brooding when he hadn't been able to change a situation. His mind reminded him it was just a scratch, that she would be fine within the week, but Jake still tore himself apart. He didn't like to see her hurt. At all.
A tick in his mind made him stiffen. A reminder; he was on patrol duty tonight, and it was nearing dusk, with the sun settling behind the treeline. Peach was his partner tonight, too, and... ugh. This would take some mind shuffling. When he shifted, he couldn't let her, or the rest of his pack, know what was wrong. Jake took a deep breath, clearing his mind. It had taken practice, but he'd finally been able to sidetrack his thoughts long enough to focus on something else, so his pack would never know how much he hated himself for failing his mate.
After he'd successfully sidetracked his mind to focusing on patrol, he shifted, his shorts disappearing behind him as his body exploded into a rusty mob of fur. Jake took off toward the treeline, in the direction of the Cullens' home. Peach was going to be angry with him, for being so late...
He skidded to a slower pace when he sensed her near, impatience stinging at his nose as her scent came closer. Peach... he sent off into his thoughts, coming to a trot as his large body rounded a few more trees. The female wolf came into view, sitting on the forest floor not too far away. Jacob whined softly, apologizing for his lateness, and sat down near her, his wolf body almost towering over hers.
Sorry, Peach. I got... caught up. His golden eyes drifted from focusing on her to moving up the tree next to her, to the darkening sky. You could always have started without me. You know the drill. Jake turned his gaze back to the female and turned his head slightly, trying with all his might to keep his thoughts clear of Renesmee and the incident earlier. Instead, his thoughts went to the job at hand. In fact, how about you run the show tonight? I'm not too focused, and you've got sharp eyes.
I'm used to being boss.
[/size]Roleplaying Experience: Nine years
Past Mod. Experience: Owned/started two sites previously
Someone has posted a really bad curse word! How do you react? Depending on the site rules (and how on this one, Peach is a stickler on cursing) I would warn the author of the post with a PM, telling them to edit their post. If they do not fix the word within 24 hours (and I have seen them log in) I will edit the post myself, censoring the word. This depends on the severity of the word, however. The action previously described will only take place if the word is at a pg-13 level; any higher and I shall edit the word first, then warn in a pm.
Someone is in need of assistance. One of our other members is bullying them over private message! How do you react? How is the bully punished? I would ask for the PMs to be forwarded to myself and Peach, so we may discuss the proper way to handle the situation. If the bullying is legitimate and severe, there should be at least two warnings before suspension happens.
Referrals: You? And Pande, of course.
Sample:
He whined and Wren felt bad that she had freaked; after all, it hadn’t been a spider, just his muzzle. His doggy muzzle. Nothing too scary and dangerous about that. Well, she thought, looking at his canine face, It’s dangerous. Just not really to me. Unless I provoked him. Dog bites are nasty, too. Like… stitches if it’s fierce enough… She jumped out of her thoughts as he put his large paws on the arm of the sofa, his face seeming to twitch as he changed.
Wren preferred to be in human form most of the time, but she could be seen in her cheetah form every once in a while, lazing about in the sun or chasing a friend. Mind you, she didn’t like to run too often, but games weren’t too bad every once in a while. It was just long-distance running that got her winded; it was like her body only had so much gas in it, and the faster she went, the more gas she burned. And she tended, whenever she did run, to run pretty fast, so her stamina was perceived as somewhat weak. Wren knew how people saw her, as something lazy and kind of a party pooper, since her competitiveness in games was next to none, but she didn’t mind so much anymore. She played when she wanted, she rested when she didn’t want to participate. That was that.
His shift from Doberman to human boy was longer than she expected. She stole glances at him, hoping sympathy wasn’t present in her eyes, for his sake. She hated it when people felt sorry for her, and she could tell by Sin’s presence that he was no different. Maybe he didn’t care on the outside what people thought, but every person had a little bit of doubt inside their minds on the make-up of their character, the effects of their actions.
Wren couldn’t help but smile as he came onto the couch as a human teen, yet still in the mannerisms of his dog form. She thought about a story she had watched on PBS once, before she’d come here, about a girl who was raised with dogs. She acted a lot like Sin did every once in a while, walking on all fours, stretching like a canine, growling… But Sin could talk. Sin had thoughts, he could move as a human; he wasn’t entirely lost in the character of his animal form. Wren, when she had been first brought to the Zoo, had dealt with what Sin seemed to be going through every day. She wasn’t experimented on, God no, the scientists tended to not poke and prod with endangered animal shifters as much as the others, but she had shrunk into her spotted persona, hiding as a feline for the first few months. It was more comfortable there in her furry body, in the cold concrete of the Zoo’s hold, than she would have been as a human, and the guards tended to leave you alone if you looked somber enough.
But she’d come out of it when Lukas brought her outside one day, and introduced her to the others. She’d clicked with so many of them, and become so close with people from each side… And then Sed had broken off when Lukas was taken, and the two different teams branched. She lost friends because of this, but she didn’t blame Sed. Honestly, she went to Sed’s side because Aniu had, and God only knew why she had chosen Ainmhithe Daor. Probably to convince Sed to go back to being one team. She was always looking for unification of some sort, but that was a good thing.
Wren smiled at Sin, hoping he would speak up around her. He didn’t have anything to be afraid about; she wasn’t going to eat him or anything, and she wouldn’t reprimand him for not knowing about the games in the rec room. She barely knew what was in here, or at least which games had all the pieces. She ran her eyes over the table in front of them, scanning the nearly-obliterated boxes for a recognizable game. Monopoly, Life…Trivial Pursuit… goodness, it was like the scientists picked the games around here, rather than the guards (the guards usually brought ones from home, or at least, Roy did). WAIT! Operation came into view, and she grinned, reaching for the box.
“We could play this? It’s a lot of fun, and pretty easy. You just have to get the piece on the card you draw out of the guy, without hitting the sides. Don’t freak out if you do touch the sides though, it kind of shocks you a bit…” She explained while opening the box and pulling out the “patient”, the cord and tweezers trailing behind. She looked around the box for the bones and things, dropped them in the correct spaces, and shuffled the cards. “Huh. It’s a lot smaller than I remember…” She mumbled, but wasn’t too upset about it. Sin and her could play a couple of games, at least until one of them thought of something better to do. Or somebody else popped in. If they got more people, then they could play another game, like Monopoly or Life. Life was her favorite, so she would push for that one. Monopoly got too harsh with more than three players.
Wren preferred to be in human form most of the time, but she could be seen in her cheetah form every once in a while, lazing about in the sun or chasing a friend. Mind you, she didn’t like to run too often, but games weren’t too bad every once in a while. It was just long-distance running that got her winded; it was like her body only had so much gas in it, and the faster she went, the more gas she burned. And she tended, whenever she did run, to run pretty fast, so her stamina was perceived as somewhat weak. Wren knew how people saw her, as something lazy and kind of a party pooper, since her competitiveness in games was next to none, but she didn’t mind so much anymore. She played when she wanted, she rested when she didn’t want to participate. That was that.
His shift from Doberman to human boy was longer than she expected. She stole glances at him, hoping sympathy wasn’t present in her eyes, for his sake. She hated it when people felt sorry for her, and she could tell by Sin’s presence that he was no different. Maybe he didn’t care on the outside what people thought, but every person had a little bit of doubt inside their minds on the make-up of their character, the effects of their actions.
Wren couldn’t help but smile as he came onto the couch as a human teen, yet still in the mannerisms of his dog form. She thought about a story she had watched on PBS once, before she’d come here, about a girl who was raised with dogs. She acted a lot like Sin did every once in a while, walking on all fours, stretching like a canine, growling… But Sin could talk. Sin had thoughts, he could move as a human; he wasn’t entirely lost in the character of his animal form. Wren, when she had been first brought to the Zoo, had dealt with what Sin seemed to be going through every day. She wasn’t experimented on, God no, the scientists tended to not poke and prod with endangered animal shifters as much as the others, but she had shrunk into her spotted persona, hiding as a feline for the first few months. It was more comfortable there in her furry body, in the cold concrete of the Zoo’s hold, than she would have been as a human, and the guards tended to leave you alone if you looked somber enough.
But she’d come out of it when Lukas brought her outside one day, and introduced her to the others. She’d clicked with so many of them, and become so close with people from each side… And then Sed had broken off when Lukas was taken, and the two different teams branched. She lost friends because of this, but she didn’t blame Sed. Honestly, she went to Sed’s side because Aniu had, and God only knew why she had chosen Ainmhithe Daor. Probably to convince Sed to go back to being one team. She was always looking for unification of some sort, but that was a good thing.
Wren smiled at Sin, hoping he would speak up around her. He didn’t have anything to be afraid about; she wasn’t going to eat him or anything, and she wouldn’t reprimand him for not knowing about the games in the rec room. She barely knew what was in here, or at least which games had all the pieces. She ran her eyes over the table in front of them, scanning the nearly-obliterated boxes for a recognizable game. Monopoly, Life…Trivial Pursuit… goodness, it was like the scientists picked the games around here, rather than the guards (the guards usually brought ones from home, or at least, Roy did). WAIT! Operation came into view, and she grinned, reaching for the box.
“We could play this? It’s a lot of fun, and pretty easy. You just have to get the piece on the card you draw out of the guy, without hitting the sides. Don’t freak out if you do touch the sides though, it kind of shocks you a bit…” She explained while opening the box and pulling out the “patient”, the cord and tweezers trailing behind. She looked around the box for the bones and things, dropped them in the correct spaces, and shuffled the cards. “Huh. It’s a lot smaller than I remember…” She mumbled, but wasn’t too upset about it. Sin and her could play a couple of games, at least until one of them thought of something better to do. Or somebody else popped in. If they got more people, then they could play another game, like Monopoly or Life. Life was her favorite, so she would push for that one. Monopoly got too harsh with more than three players.
)