[justify][size=7pt][color=grey][ the character ]
name
His name is Vespertilion.
age
Vespertilion is thirty-six moons old.
gender
Vespertilion is a male character.
desired rank
Vespertilion desires to be a Soldier of The Incognito.
appearance
[[ the build ]]
To put things as mildly sa possible, I'll sum up this tom's general structure in one word - he's big. Like, 'I tower over you!' big. And, pairing that with two green, hateful eyes, you don't get a very pretty result. Just the way he looks is enough to intimidate the majority of the people around him, so it's no wonder why he has so little friends. As for his shape, Vespertilion is pretty darn... squarish? In a sitting positions, he looks very much like a simple cat like column. Not perfectly straight, no, but few a curve has been placed upon his massive frame. So... he's squarish, you could say. Height? Well, it be odd to have a large cat be short, would it not? So, as it should be fairly obvious, this tom is quite tall in comparison to your average cat. Not freakishly tall - something that makes him stand out majorly in a crowd - but tall enough to balance out his muscular frame. As for weight, he's heavy. He'd be difficult to push off you had you been locked in battle with him. Off course, this can also lead to some difficulties; he's quite slow, for these reasons, and crashing through narrow passages is not uncommon with him around. As for his build, I can describe it in only one, easy way. He's very, very muscular. Fitting in with his aggressive and overly confident persona, Vespertilion has a build fit for a powerful fighter. And, let me tell you, he doesn't let them go to any waste. And boning? Well, I'll just say it fits in well with his massive size.
[[ the sizes ]]
Vespertilion's ears are spread somewhat widely apart atop his head and are a bit shorter then your average pair of ears. Tilted outwards in just the slightest manner, the only really noticable difference from them and any other set of ears is the size of the gap between them. And, well, the fact that one is the slightest bit skinnier then the other. Unfortunately, smaller ears make hearing a tad bit harder for him, so eavesdropping on others is much easier said than done for him. His tail, however, is longer then usual and has been very well kept. Tail signals, for this reason, are easier for others to see. It'd be a good trait, had he the skills to work in a group of animals. Instead, that tiny difference is easily wasted. As for paws, his are actually fairly large, matching his generally large size. But, even then, they're still a bit odd looking for their abnormally large size. No embarrassement, thankfully, is found in this factor, though, and the only problem they cause for him doesn't bother him as much. His large size and weight already make him poor at stalking prey and such. And claws? They are, surprising, average length in comparison to his paws - much to the tom's displeasure. Longer claws would equal more power in a blow. Unfortunately, this is a trait that the tom was not granted and bothers him ever so. Aw, well. At least their sharp enough for his taste. The size of his eyes... are normal. Fitting the description for an average cat completely. Nothing too special about them here...
[[ the shapes ]]
Moving right along, we find that those plain old boring eyes are, in fact... round. Just a tad bit flatter then a circle, making them more of an oval then anything, these purely circular eyeballs are simply defined by, well, nothing, really. The only thing that allows them to stand out is their astonishing color in comparision to the sea of black they've been thrown into. His nose is, much like his eyes, an average sized, shaped, and placed nose. With it's triangular shape, it actually fairly difficult to distinguish where it even is upon his face. Both of these factors are, obviously, much to his displeasure. His face is generally bland... Why would someone be happy about that? His neck, bulky as it is, is pretty average as well, just slightly exceeding the desired length of your typical feline. Of course, the neck is such and overlooked thing... This doesn't bother him all that much, as no one else takes any notice. At all. But, an average height, yet an abnormally muscular built make his neck look more chubby then it probably should... As for his legs... Well, their longer then usual, only adding to his height and balancing out the ratio of muscle to size. They're still as thick as they would be on any other cat; they just make him taller than normal. And, finally for this paragraph, the size of his head... Well, it is an average sized head. However, in comparison to the rest of his body, it does look a bit out of place, sitting at the top of the rest of his frame.
[[ the fur ]]
Moving away from the various sizes and shapes that can be found scattered across Vespertilion's body, we move on to his most well kept feature - his fur. Yes, Vespertilion believes looking as sophisticated and well-kept will not only make him look more respectable, but help keep others from suspecting his dark side. A mad man would not show such careful and well-thought out procedures, surely! As for the texture, it can be defined as simply... smooth. Having a tongue constantly making it's way through his fur can do that it, can't it? It's no surprise that the layer of black that has been drapped across him is soft to the touch by the way that he takes care of it. As for length, the warrior is a shorthaired cat. And what does this mean? Well, he has short fur, of course! Banishing the cold in leafbare is not so simple with short strands of fur as your only protection. However, getting warm in greenleaf is also just as difficult. Short fur isn't all bad, is it? Lastly, we move onto the imperfections scattered across his pelt - his scars. Of course, every cat is bound to have some sort of a scar - even medicine cats may have a tiny one from a thorn scratch of somesort. But, being the kind of tom who enjoys tossing himself into every battle possible, it would be almost impossible for him to have less then twenty or so scars. Of course, most of his small, insignifcant ones are covered by a layer of fur. However, major scars are still visible. Like, for instance, the ugly gash that has been carved onto his right shoulder, or even the deep nick in his left ear.
[[ the colors ]]
When you think of a crazy cat, what color do you think of? Black, most likely - it and red are typically the colors paired with evil. Or, perhaps, you think of white as a sort of irony. Well, if you guessed that Vespertilion is black, you'd be correct! A think coat of black has been carefully drapped across his frame, and what a beautiful shade of black it is! For the most part, this dark color is what defines the tom. However, his eyes, the insides of his ears, and every other part not covered by fur breaks through a tidal wave of the black color. That, and a single paw and the tip of his tail. His front right paw looks as though it has been dipped into white paint as it stands out clear as day in a sea of black. The last six or seven inches of his tail are the same, snowy white as his right paw. His eyes also stand out plain as day, being a brilliant, leafy green. His pads, inner ears, and nose are all the same color - a very, very dark pink. In fact, it wouldn't be hard to mistake them all for that same black color that dominate the rest of his pelt. His teeth are a very faint yellowish color from wear over the span of three years of life, while his tongue is a vibrant pink.
personality
So, I'm gonna be lazy and get this over with really quick~! Vespertilion's ambitious! Not a bad ambitious like Tigerstar or anything, but he's got goals, and he's willing to do anything to achieve them. He's decisive, so he doesn't struggle too much over which option to go with. For the most part, anyway. He's hard-working, meaning that, if he really wants to do something, he'll get it done and done correctly. He's mature... to a point. So he doesn't jump around like a house cat, batting at butterflies and all that stuff. He's quite serious - it's like there isn't a funny bone in his body - and he doesn't tend to crack jokes at things he shouldn't. Or, actually, at anything, really. He's alert, like most clan and group cats, meaning that he doesn't miss the tiny snapping of twigs or tiny little whispers within earshot. He's energetic. Not in the way that he runs around as if he's on drugs or something, but, as in, he doesn't wear out easily. He's pretty intelligent. So, he knows a lot of things. Nothing too special. He's organized and can keep his stuff in place and - dare I say it? - he's pretty darn physically capable.
Sadly, as we all have our perks, we all have our less tasteful traits. So, this cat's pretty darn secretive. As in he won't tell anyone anything that goes on in his mind unless they pry it out of him. He's not too polite, either, and it more likely to snap at anyone before he bows down to them. Going right along with that, he's hostile. Not the most friendly cat around and far from a lovable teddy bear. He's decieving, preferring to trick someone into doing what he wants than flat out asking, and he's pretty indifferent on any matters not directly concerning himself. Someone dying in camp? Good for them. Leave him out of it. Vespertilion's pretty reckless, too, doing everything on the fly without caring about the consequences that come with his actions. He's pretty unlucky, too, in general, guessing as fortune only comes with a giant monster to the face and spoiled freshkill for lunch. He's impatient, so he can't keep his paws still for more than one hundred heartbeats. He's self-centered and doesn't tend to care about the creatures around him. Lastly, he couldn't exactly be considered a good guy on the good and bad scale.
roleplay sample
[spoiler=long, read at will][justify][color=grey][size=7pt]
[size=6pt]*This doesn't have anything to do with Vespertilion, just something I thought of a while back, about Pokemon. Read if you really wish to.*[/size]
And the boy lost all his life savings. There was much rejoicing.
Or, at least, that could have been what happened if he'd fallen victim to the many, many slot machines that lined the Game Corner of Neurift City. Games of all different kinds, flashing in many colors and decorated to a point that it burned the eyes were scattered across the building, though almost every one shared a similar concept on how to win the game... and how to steal money from the idiots willing to give their's away in hopes of winning big. As one could assume, this was a stupid way of trying to make a profit. Couldn't these people get jobs, or something? Make a solid pay instead of losing more than winning, but letting their drunk off their butt minds allow themselves to think otherwise? It all seemed so simple if one truly thought about it. Put a great deal of effort into thinking up all the reasons why a secure job was better than the sport of something like gambling at filthy casinos. Of course, not everyone actually tried to think their ways throught their boring - or exuberating, depending on the person - lives. Instead, they just threw themselves head first into anything and everything and expected the best of results.
Alva Faunus, billionaire to be, was one of these morons.
The green-haired wonder would be sitting at one of these colorful little slot machines, himself, insterting coins, pulling levers, expecting to see more coins drop from the machine, and cry when he got unlucky. It was just what he did. It was his thing. What better way to use the money from the credit card he stole from mommy and daddy before getting out of that blasted place and never looking back? At least three times every week he came down to this place, spending hours at one machine before getting bored and spending hours at another. Thrilling, I know. But he enjoyed it, and he did what he wanted, no matter what anyone else said about it. So, if he wanted to waste his life in that dump of a place, he would do just that. Waste his life in that dump of a place. The slot machines were his friends - maybe his only ones - even if they stole his money and left him with empty pockets every night. But, hey! A cheating friend is better than no friend at all, right? Totally.
But this brought up an interesting question. Why exactly was he not participating in the masses of gambling loonies, doing just that? Loosing all his money because it was the most entertaining way of doing so? Well, there was a very important reason for this. It was that he had not money to loose. He wasn't broke. His parents were loaded - he'd be able to use that credit card for almost five years without a worry, he would always tell himself - so there was no worry about going broke. But he'd forgotten to bring any money with him when he make the excrutiatingly long trip from the Pokemon Center to the casino. Which, in all honestly, wasn't very far at all - maybe a five, ten minute walk? - but it was that far for him. Sure, he could have gone back to get it but that required effortand he hated having to use effort for tiny little things. So, instead, he decided to be lazy, mope, and hit his head against the machine before him like a depressed teen who no longer felt like living. Which could almost be used to describe the situation he was in. He didn't always act his age, and, if he couldn't gamble, what was the point on living at all?
"Arg, if I don't get out of here, I'm going to die," he bellowed, smacking his forehead against the machine multiple times slightly. The slots moved - also slightly - in responce to this movement, yet he payed no attention and didn't bother to process what had just happened. He was to busy suffering from a major lack of money wasting and, if he didn't get some cash, he'd be an utter mess by the end of the night. He could always swipe a few coins from some other people at the party - half of them were so drunk that they required the machines and stools to help keep them on their feet - but, in his hissy fit, he didn't even stop to think about that possibility. So, instead, he moped, feeling his forehead collide with the machine with much more ferocity each time. In other words, he hit it hard with every swing of his head. A tiny click caught his ears as he watched the probably old machine's slots move slightly in responce to his unrelenting attack. Well, there was an idea. Smack it until it gave him money.
Smiling suddenly at the idea, he threw himself at the machine, successful catching the attention of those around him - and a headache - but not managing to line anything up. Actually, he noticed, they hadn't moved in the slightest. Groaning again, the male pounded his fists against it lightly, not wanted to inflict any further injuries to himself, and let out yet another exaggerated groan. Tonight was just not his night, was it? Nope. It wasn't. And, in addition, he was to busy wallowing in self pity to actually get off his lazy butt and go dosomething about it. However, the bar at the far side of the casino did catch his attention and, within moments, the green-haired male was stumbling over for a drink. What an idiot he was. Like any of those drinks were actually going to be free. If he didn't have money to play at the slot machines, there was no possible way he'd be able to afford a drink. Pukish green colored eyes glanced at a small sign that said "FREE ICED WATER" and wondered if they could throw any alcohal in there for him. Upon asking, he was laughed at to the face and booted back to moaning and groaning in a heartbeat. No water for him, it seemed. So what was he going to do?
Alva's head turned and his track of sight locked onto a dark haired man - right? That was a man, right? That pony-tail was throwing him off, that was for certain... Of course, he wasn't exactly Sir Manly Man, king of manliness. Just don't let him know that. - who bumped into a few of the gambles and swiped what they'd earned from the games. Anger began to raise in his throat for two reason, neither one of them being that actual thefts themselves. One? How the heck did these idiots manage to win anything? He'd been a gambler ever since he got away from his parent's iron grip and he usually didn't win squat! Second, why hadn't he thought of doing that earlier? Becayse he was clumsy and would fail miserably? Yeah, probably that. Not like he'd accept either of those statements, though. Deciding to waste someone else's money - he was still to lazy to go get his own - the man rolled up his orange sleeves and started slowly walking through the building, looking for a good victim for his next little "crime". Instead of coming to them, though, they seemed to come to him. And, better yet, it was a girl. And a cute one, none the less.
""
The cry rang out throughout the building from the top of someone's lungs and, for another split second, he was bitter about not be able to win himself all over again. However, he'd be able to win once he grabbed a handful of her jackpot, however much it was. If it was a lot, she probably wouldn't even notice that any of it was - "Holy Miltank, what the heck?" the male gasped as he caught sight of the coins spilling from the pink-haired girl's pockets. Did he say a handful? I'm sorry, I think he meant five. With that, the female slipped into the crowd of people at the other end of the room for whatever reason - first win, maybe? Afraid of someone beating her up and stealing her prize? Seemed fair enough. - and he stuggled to follow her from a safe distance. He didn't want to be one of those creepers that followed people around and begged for money. That was low for even someone like him. Maybe cmall talk, then swiping her coins while she wasn't looking? Yeah, that seemed about right...
"Oh, hey!" Alva called, clasping her shoulder with his girlish hands and falling into step with her. "You must have won big, huh? Congrats!"
[/spoiler]
[justify][color=grey][size=7pt][ the roleplayer ]
screen name
optimist.
nicknames
Ophie, Oppi.
activity
I'm pretty active, but I do live in Europe, with around a six hour time difference from the United States, or Canada.
other
Nothing that I know of.
Nay-chan, it's not always good to be super detailed. I feel as if simple is just fine, but my brain doesn't. Cx Nonetheless, of course, detailed writing is fabulous!