Post by thalia on Oct 29, 2010 18:20:44 GMT -5
yo. here's the deal - my character, thalia, was originally planned to be a raven. but ravens are restricted here, so i need to talk with a mod to make one, but i already did her profile so i'm going to post it up here. anyone checking it, please tell me if it's allright to make a raven. if not, i'll change to crow.
Name: thalia
Nicknames/Aliases: umbra or night raven
Gender: female
Age: 4
Species: common raven; corvus corax
Occupation: messenger-for-hire
Physical Appearance:
Name: thalia
Nicknames/Aliases: umbra or night raven
Gender: female
Age: 4
Species: common raven; corvus corax
Occupation: messenger-for-hire
Physical Appearance:
General-- a scrap of black against the gray or even blue pattern of the sky is of little interest to any creature that should decide to glance up. she is simply a reminder of the wilderness's harsh treatment. a skinny, broken form of sinew and bone, deftly covered with ragged black feathers, their standard glossiness worn to a faint gleam by rain, wind, and dirt. a dark green bag dangles loosely from her gleaming claws, rat skin waterproofed by mud and leaves. a strip of black fabric is bound around her left foot, fluttering in the breeze as she flies. invisible because of her height in the sky, her cold granite eyes provide her perfect vision as she soars. the oily black of her feathers reflects a rainbow of colors as she disappears, vanishing into the depths of the heavens.Possessions:
sometimes she leaves behind a single spot of black - if it's a clear day.
Attire--
TEXTPersonality:
TEXTStrengths:
TEXTWeaknesses:
TEXTHistory/Background:
TEXTRelationships:
- TEXT
- TEXT
- Etc.
RP Sample[/b:
"You can tell him to go to hellgates. We're not interested," the weasel snarled. "He started this war - we're just here to finish it. He knows he'll be defeated anyway." The weasel raised a clawed hand and made a shooing motion at the large black bird perched among the branches of the pine nearby. "Well, go on. Go tell him. Sometime today would be good."
Thalia shifted her position on the branch and fixed the weasel in the grip of her granite eyes. "There's no need. He's probably waiting in the trees to ambush you right now." The raven chanced a glance backwards, examining the darkened forest with her keen vision, saw the rows of glittering eyes lining the trees like christmas lights. One of them obviously had good hearing, and was lifting what appeared to be a bow, aiming an arrow straight at her, probably mad that she'd told the weasel their plans. Still, she was wily enough that nobody had gotten the better of her yet; she whipped her head to the side and the arrow zoomed past, narrowly missing her and the weasel.
"Have fun," Thalia announced and hopped forwards, oily wings spreading out, catching the sun's rays in a dizzying rainbow as she took off, a black rag tossed into the harsh afternoon winds and swept to the side dangerously before regaining balance. Below her, the once-pristine clearing exploded into battle - the stunned weasel was caught in the crossfire and quickly killed or seriously injured; Thalia couldn't quite tell.
"Fools," she muttered under her breath as her wings rhythmically beat the air and blood splattered the earth below. She'd never understood the need of land creatures to beat each other up, but she accepted it philisophically and swung her green bag up. It wrapped around her neck with a thud of leather against skin and she opened it delicately with her beak, picking out the worn-out parchment scroll the weasel's enemy - a rat - had sent her to deliver. She held it in her beak for a moment, then dropped it and watched it flutter to the ground like an autumn leaf, twisting and turning with the currents until it came to rest in a puddle of blood and was immediately stepped on by an eager hordesbeast.
After a moment longer of peering down at the battle below, a particularly hard beat of her wings shot her up into the sky, and she disappeared into the clouds as the war raged on below, switching her green bag back down into the grip of her claws.
An arrow twanged past her - damned longbows - and she beat her wings faster in response, letting the pointless war disappear into the distance.
