Post by Ens. Milla Reznov on Oct 18, 2009 22:07:15 GMT -5
OOC Name: Jar
Years RP'ing: 3-4
Where did you find us?: Counteh
Yo mama jokes: [admin edit]
Character name: Milla Minai Lekarariba-Laminai-Tchai Ekbat De Sebat Reznov
Character Age: 20
Character Gender: Female
Race: Human
Rank (if applicable): Ensign
Ship: Enterprise
Division: Operations
Brief Description: Has long, pretty raven black hair. In most lights it makes it looks like it has blue, green, and violet streaks. She's got pretty gray eyes and she loves her looks, but no she won't flaunt them. Yeah, she's a little taller than average, around 5'7. She loves her weaponry, tending to enjoy guns and lazers and whatever is generally used in warfare. She's Russian, coming from the streets of St. Petersburg. She was the rich man's little angel, but she was also the rugged demon who plagued the streets. Often only seen in a leather trenchcoat, jeans, and a pair of knee high boots, she was beautiful and deadly.
Sample post (may be recycled):
The big tawny tabby tom prowled through the forests underbrush, his bright gold eyes searching quietly. He was a scarred tom, not old but he bore the pain and wisdom of one three times his age. One paw was nothing but a white scar, a reminder of his battle with a Lurkclan she-cat when he was on a rescue mission with Cowspot, trying to get back Bluewillow when she was only an apprentice. A scattering of pale lines across his pelt were reminders of his fight with Froststorm, a Riverclan tom who he fought with during the battle for Sunningrocks. He had gone after his mate and apprentice, succeeding in taking away his apprentice's chances of ever becoming a Warrior. A scar by his eye from a battle when he was a young kit, a raid by Bloodclan on his old clan. He sighed, moving quietly, flicking his tail in time with the melody playing in his head. It was a lullaby his mother had sang to him as a kit and one he knew quite well. He prowled, moving past a stump and crouching, behind a boulder. In front of him was a ermine, and he was quite fond of them, despite how furry they were. He felt his muscles coil, like living springs and the tension was released, propelling him forward and onto the ermine. He wrapped his front paws around its belly, biting into its neck as he rolled with it. With a single swift bite it was dead, the large weasel-like black creature dead in his powerful jaws. He purred, flicking his tail and padding back towards the camp, his brilliant eyes watching his surroundings.
Years RP'ing: 3-4
Where did you find us?: Counteh
Yo mama jokes: [admin edit]
Character name: Milla Minai Lekarariba-Laminai-Tchai Ekbat De Sebat Reznov
Character Age: 20
Character Gender: Female
Race: Human
Rank (if applicable): Ensign
Ship: Enterprise
Division: Operations
Brief Description: Has long, pretty raven black hair. In most lights it makes it looks like it has blue, green, and violet streaks. She's got pretty gray eyes and she loves her looks, but no she won't flaunt them. Yeah, she's a little taller than average, around 5'7. She loves her weaponry, tending to enjoy guns and lazers and whatever is generally used in warfare. She's Russian, coming from the streets of St. Petersburg. She was the rich man's little angel, but she was also the rugged demon who plagued the streets. Often only seen in a leather trenchcoat, jeans, and a pair of knee high boots, she was beautiful and deadly.
Sample post (may be recycled):
The big tawny tabby tom prowled through the forests underbrush, his bright gold eyes searching quietly. He was a scarred tom, not old but he bore the pain and wisdom of one three times his age. One paw was nothing but a white scar, a reminder of his battle with a Lurkclan she-cat when he was on a rescue mission with Cowspot, trying to get back Bluewillow when she was only an apprentice. A scattering of pale lines across his pelt were reminders of his fight with Froststorm, a Riverclan tom who he fought with during the battle for Sunningrocks. He had gone after his mate and apprentice, succeeding in taking away his apprentice's chances of ever becoming a Warrior. A scar by his eye from a battle when he was a young kit, a raid by Bloodclan on his old clan. He sighed, moving quietly, flicking his tail in time with the melody playing in his head. It was a lullaby his mother had sang to him as a kit and one he knew quite well. He prowled, moving past a stump and crouching, behind a boulder. In front of him was a ermine, and he was quite fond of them, despite how furry they were. He felt his muscles coil, like living springs and the tension was released, propelling him forward and onto the ermine. He wrapped his front paws around its belly, biting into its neck as he rolled with it. With a single swift bite it was dead, the large weasel-like black creature dead in his powerful jaws. He purred, flicking his tail and padding back towards the camp, his brilliant eyes watching his surroundings.
