Profiles
Username: Razor23119
Name: Dinaer
Age: Unknown; appears 17-20
Race: Anthropomorphic silver fox
Fighting for: Peace
Weapons: A matte-black Hammerli X-Esse sits in its holster on his right hip. However, he is known to keep various other items on his person, making it impossible to deem him completely unarmed. Every now and again, Dinaer can be seen with a Steyr-Mannlicher SSG 08 rifle, or more rarely, an ornate ninja-to with an elongated blade. Neither are used unless deemed necessary.
Personality: Dinaer is rather quiet and aloof, not being one for much social contact, but is calm, polite, and considerate. If and when he opens up to someone, he is a loyal and level-headed friend with a dry sense of humor.
He is not without his faults, however, and has problems with both trust and temper, among other things.
Despite being rather distrustful of others, Dinaer is altruistic, and rarely hesitates to go out of his way to help those he sees to be in need, even at the risk of his life, regardless if he knows them or not.
Bio: What is there to say? Dinaer carefully guards his own past, and unless it holds important information, does not pry into the pasts of others. Some of his history is obvious, however, such as his ease with both weapons and unarmed combat pointing to formal training in the arts of war, as is his apparent wealth. Other than that, he usually wanders about with a red squirrel by the name of Beleger. Recently, the two have rented an apartment from which they have stayed for the past year or so.
His own philosophy about his past is, if one cannot guess it, then he or she must wait if and until he is comfortable enough to share it himself.
Crush/Mate: None.
Appearance: Standing at 6 feet, Dinaer is a lean, young-looking individual with sleek, well-kept gray fur and a long tail tipped with white. His shoulder-length hair is a lighter shade of gray, being true silver, and is usually kept in a ponytail. Stray bangs frame a pair of intense yellow eyes, the right one having a long, blue-tinted scar stretching vertically over it. The lower face is covered by a mask made of black cloth.
His usual attire could be described as befitting a goth, as most of it involves the color black-- a black, long-sleeved shirt; a pair of black gloves; a black leather belt; and a pair of black, shin-high boots with nondescript soles. Dark-blue cargo jeans are tucked into his boots, and completing his appearance is a light gray duster. Beneath his shirt is a silver pendant in the shape of a cross. Every now and then he can be seen wearing other clothing, but this seems to be his most common combination. Quite a few people have wondered if he is begging for heat stroke.
Other: Dinaer has quite a few physical oddities, one of the most striking being that his fur and skin are always unusually cool. Also, it is difficult to hold eye contact with him for an extended amount of time for some reason. He refers to others as "my friend", and has a habit of wandering about at night.
Username: Varmore
Name: Beleger
Age: Unknown; appears to be 14-16
Race: Red Squirrel
Fighting for: Peace
Weapons: A Benelli M3S90, a D. Eagle, and a heavy machete.
Personality: Beleger doesn't take crap. The young male can be kind and has other such nice attributes, but his usual day consists of him being sarcastic and a bit of a jerk. He's bullheaded, brash, easily angered, and tends to find the fun in almost everything.
Bio: Like his buddy, Dinaer, Beleger doesn't talk too much about his past. It's easy to tell that he, too, has been in many fights as he can easily use the weapons he has and many others. Recently, he and Dinaer have found refuge in an apartment.
Crush/Mate: None
Appearance: Beleger stands at a short 5'2". He's lean and tough, quiet young-looking, and has a dark grey-brown fur color. The fur begins to fade into red around his forearms. His tail is roughly four feet long and incredibly bushy. His eyes are strange in that they are a dark red kind of color. The hair on his head is about four inches long and tends to cover his eyes. That is, unless he moves his bangs to the left.
He generally wears a white colored tee-shirt under a crimson jacket. The young anthro tends to wear the jacket no matter what the weather. He normally chooses to put on a pair of cargo blue jeans. Beleger also tends to go shoeless as he is simply a bit more comfortable without them. He has been seen with different clothes on, but it is uncommon.
Other: Most mammalian creatures are warm to the touch. However, Beleger isn't just warm to the touch; he seems to always be a little hotter than normal. When asked about this, he simply says that it's his normal body temperature.
Username: CarryonFalcon
Name: Seft
Age: 21
Race: Peregrine Falcon
Fighting for: Peace
Weapons: A Model 27 S&W that is always on his body (usually hidden thanks to his size), his body, and he has been seen with a pump-action shotgun that has been seriously modified.
Personality: A thinker and tinkerer, Seft has anger issues he works to keep under control. His humor is sarcastic and sometimes crude, and he uses it quite often to keep the situation calm (or so he thinks), but when things start going sour he shuts his mouth in an instant. He has been in many fights, given his past, and can slip into what he refers to as 'a flow of battle' quite easily. He does, however, admit it can be hard for him to come out of it.
Bio: So young he didn't remember the crash landing on earth, Seft was raised by his parents for most of his life. They taught him many things, mostly focusing on medical treatment of anthros to a peculiar way of fighting that works well his species body structure. When he was 17 they were killed in one of the many home raids, and by a twisted stroke of luck, he hadn't been at his house at the time because of errands. When he returned, something snapped within him. Seft is missing a solid eight months of memory of what happened afterwards, and his fear is that he killed people during those months. If it hadn't been for his need to stay safe, and strong desire to keep what happened to him from occurring to anyone else, he wouldn't take the questionable jobs he did now.
He now lives on a rooftop shack in the slums, and is known as someone to go to if you are an anthro and need patching up.
Crush/Mate: None
Appearence: Given his species, Seft only wears a pair of tattered jeans with a belt securing them in place. Hidden on his left leg is a holster for his pistol which, thanks to his tall and strong frame is hidden, can be accessed even if he is flying. His wings are always folded at his back, their underside a white spotted with dark brown and black like his chest. His back feathers are a smooth blackish brown, and on his throat his feathers are solid white up until his large, curved beak. Standing around 6'2" and appearing to be much larger thanks to his feathers, Seft is easily imposing if he needs to be, but most of the time he tries not to be intimidating.
His hands are also more akin to his feet than anything else, lacking feathers while bearing claws and fingers being somewhat long.
Other: He has a habit of having fiddling with something in one of his hands, usually a coin.
Username: flailingwings
Name: Wren
Age: 17
Race: Mouse
Fighting for: Revenge
Weapons: Two small hand daggers (actually steak knifes plucked off the table of an open-air restaurant) and an old scalpel (she hates using it rarely does)
Personality: Wren is untrusting, pigheaded and generally quite stubborn. For instance, she really needs glasses but she refuses to get them because she would have to go to a human for help. She detests all humans, however she a little more likely to sympathize with an anthro. Despite her stubborn attributes, she’s really rather meek. Like, well, a mouse. She isn’t shy under any definition; it's just part of her nature to keep a low profile as a way of keeping herself alive, especially when it comes to predatory animals. If pressed severely, she would betray even her closest friends- after much hesitation. Afterward she'd be ravaged with guilt. Wren mostly just wants to be left alone. But if she saw the chance for vengeance, she'd take it in a heartbeat.
Bio: Wren was raised in a lab and tolerated terrible experiments throughout her youth. Eventually, her parents died under the persecution of the scientists and she flew into a grief-stricken rage. The first chance she saw, she stole a scalpel from the scientists and fought her way to freedom. Since then, she's been living on the street, wandering from town to town, and stealing to keep herself alive.
Crush/Mate: None.
Appearance: Wren is about 4 feet tall, her tail 2 1/2 feet in length. Her fur is a pale gray, with white patches in various spots where she used to be injected. Her eyes are an unnatural milky blue. She has a rather large nick in one of her ears, a souvenir from the day she escaped the lab. She wears a pair of patched, mud-stained capris and a dark gray zip-up jacket with a hood that she pulls up occasionally to keep out the weather or when she's sneaking around. She doesn't wear shoes as she never wore them before and prefers to be able to feel the ground beneath her feet. Everything she owns was either salvaged or stolen.
Other: Wren dislikes humans of any type, but she especially despises the ones that remind her of her troubled past: doctors, nurses, dentists, pretty much anyone who wears white and carries a clipboard. She doesn’t like it when people talk about her parents or her upbringing.
Username: Riverfox237
Name: Riley Raesh
Age: 18
Race: Nine-Banded Armadillo
Fighting for: Tolerance
Weapons: A short, retractable staff, concealed inside her pants. And when in a truly severe circumstances, her large digging claws come in handy in a pinch. She also knows a little bit of hand-to-hand combat.
Personality: When you first meet Riley, she appears to be very nervous and shy. In truth, when you get to know her, she is a very cheerful and talkative individual who loves a good laugh, but with the state of the world being as it is, with people on both sides doing terrible and violent things, Riley has severe trust issues. She regards any stranger with reservation, ranging from polite to downright balking depending on how threatening they look or act. If you can earn her trust, however, you will have a very dedicated friend; after all, when one's list of trusted individuals is so small, one tends to value those on the list above most things.
Riley has a very caring personality and wants desperately for humans and Visitors to live together in peace; she is in touch with both worlds in a way that gives her a special understanding of how members of one party as just as much real people inside as members of the other.
Riley is not a fighter and loaths the idea of actually hurting someone, even someone attacking her. Her first response to a threat is to run away, and if that doesn't work, to curl up and hold out until help comes. Even so, her parents insist she carry around a short staff that she keeps concealed inside her pants, and her dad (a police captain) has given her extensive training on how to use it. If other people are in danger, however, she will never leave them in the lurch; she cares too much about the few people in the world she trusts to ever abandon them.
Bio: Riley isn't quite like other Visitors, for one special reason: she was raised by humans. Her birth parents were killed when she was only four months old; she doesn't know the circumstances behind their deaths, but the uneasy silence that comes up whenever she asks her adoptive parents about it makes her inclined to think that a hate crime was involved. Her father only assures her that her parents received a proper burial, and that he found her very shortly after the incident.
Her parents received a lot of flack for taking in a Visitor child, but Daniel Raesh is a respected police captain, and he and his wife are open equal-rights activists for the Visitors. (They are both devout Christians and believe that the Visitors are just as much God's creatures as humans are.) Neighbors and even some relatives look on Riley with disdain and sometimes outright hatred, and her parents were forced to homeschool her since none of the local school districts would willingly allow her to be admitted. Riley shares her parents' Christian faith, a fact that becomes quickly obvious in a dire situation as her first reaction will always be to break out into frantic prayer. Dire situations have been a regular part of her life, even with human parents: their house has been set on fire twice, and Riley had nightmares for years after a gang of human hate-crimers tried to put her in a trash compactor.
Because of the strange nature of her upbringing, Riley has seen the evils on both sides of the board: humans have hated her for being a Visitor, and Visitors have hated her for being a human 'pet'. So she is not quick to trust anyone, and she equally fears human hate-gangs and the more violent resistance movements. But she's also seen the good, and she has a few trusted friends, both human and Visitor. She tries to see from everyone's point of view and is very compassionate, and she hates to see people motivated by revenge.
Riley isn’t the only anthro child in this household, actually: when she was ten, her parents found and took in another anthro orphan, a one-year-old otter name Tyler. When Riley isn’t worrying about her own safety, she is worrying about Tyler, a fact that is not helped by the fact that her now-9-year-old little brother is an energetic little ball of mischief. Riley would do anything to protect her little brother, even throw herself into harm’s way. If there were ever a time where you might actually see Riley lose her temper and get dangerous, it would be if Tyler was in serious trouble.
Riley still lives at home despite having technically graduated from school (her parents worked with a system that didn't ask for species to be specified). She is very artistic and dreams of going to art college, but until she can find a college that will accept her and overcome her own fear of the world, she is trying to stay as safe as possible.
Crush/Mate: None
Appearance: Riley is an armadillo anthro, and so the outer skin on her arms and legs and the back of her neck have thick, armor-like callouses. Her entire back and sides are encased in thick armadillo plates, and even her skin is very tough. The plated pattern bisects her hair and runs all the way up over her scalp and down her nose, but sprouting from around that is a lovely head of short, black hair. Her skin and plates are a mix of light gray and brown. She has a short, pointed tail and thick claws on all her fingers and toes. Riley is very sturdy and can take a lot of abuse on her armor without cracking (literally).
Clothing is somewhat of a problem thanks to her rounded back and side shell pieces, but Riley and her mom have gotten around this over the years by remodeling all of her shirts so that they attach to the inside of her back armor. Interestingly, the development of the armadillo-anthro species came with a convenient alteration in their back-plating: the bottom four segments of Riley’s armor are connected to a long bone extension that allows the armor to detach from her backside and curl around her independently. This frees her to wear normal pants. She likes earth tones and loose materials, and never bothers with shoes. (Her claws would tear them to pieces even if she needed them.)
Other:
- Riley actually has a job—despite the fact that her dad is a policeman and her mom is a practicing optometrist, money is tight, and Riley’s conscience won’t let her stay hidden at home. She works as a cook in a little diner in the downtown area, one of the only places that would hire her.
- Riley has an ability unique to the animal she is an anthro of: she is able to curl completely up into a ball of protective armor, and when she's in that form, it's nigh on impossible to pry her out of it against her will. It is not a perfect ball, however; the shape is more like a vey large tire, and there are some small gaps caused by her humanoid shape. She has been practicing rolling in this form, but it's hard to see and easy to lose one's balance. She can literally fall off a two-story building in this form and suffer only very minor damage to her armor, which is very helpful considering how she favors flight over fight.
Username: Riverfox237
Name: Tyler Raesh
Age: 9
Race: Otter
Fighting for: Nothing (except in his head, where he is fighting for JUSTICE)
Weapons: None; not old enough yet. Has lots of training on how to run and hide, however.
Personality: Tyler is exactly what you would expect to get if you crossed a hyperactive nine-year-old kid with an otter. He is extremely hyper, has his nose in everything, has very few social limitations other than those firmly driven into him by his mother, and thinks swords and explosions and giant bugs and comic books are all super cool.
Ironically, despite the stiff and dangerous mood of society at the moment and the fact that Ty is growing up, he somehow still manages to treat the world as if it is going exactly his way. Ty has no problem walking up to a complete stranger to ask them a question, and he has the amazing knack for not responding at all to negative feedback. Not even his family is quite sure if this is simply him being particularly oblivious, or if he is just really good at ignoring rejection for someone his age. His magnetic little-kid personality and refusal to notice when he is not wanted makes it very hard for anyone, even most humans on the street, to dislike and/or stay angry with him for long. Something about him makes even the most stubborn people automatically think of their idea of ‘normal’ little kids, so their first reaction is to either laugh at him or think he is incredibly annoying. (If you’ve ever met random kids in public, you know what I mean.)
Ty loves hanging around with his big sister, Riley, which is a good thing since he has been firmly commanded by his parents to stay with her any time they are out in public together. Despite his penchant for getting into trouble, Tyler knows when to stop and do what his parents or big sister say. They did at least manage to teach him enough about the dangers in the world to be sure that he’ll pay attention when the situation is urgent.
Tyler loves to meet people, human or anthro, although he thinks certain types of anthros (especially carnivores) are definitely more interesting than others. The boy very plainly does not possess any sort of residual ‘animal instinct’ fears towards any other anthros; Ty would happily walk up to a crocodile anthro and ask if having a snout that long made it hard to chew. Tyler doesn’t consider it at all odd that he has an armadillo for a sister and two humans for parents, and very rarely brings up any questions about his origins. However, there are some nights, when it’s dark outside and the sounds of distant violence are wafting through the windows, that little Tyler sits up in bed and cries into his mom’s arms…
Bio: Tyler is the second adopted anthro child of Vanessa and Daniel Raesh, two humans and devout Christians who are open Visitor-rights activists. Like his older sister, Riley (an armadillo anthro and 9 years older than him), Tyler was found by the Raeshes after his parents were killed. Unlike Riley, however, Tyler was one year old at the time, and he still has occasional nightmares concerning fragmented memories of the event. But you’d never know it for his boisterous personality and goofball antics; most of the time, Tyler blocks out any thought of his pre-Raesh life, and is perfectly happy being a normal little kid.
Tyler is homeschooled and currently in the equivalent of fourth grade. His father is a police officer and has been teaching him the rudimentaries of self-defense for the past three years. He’s strong for his age (at least by human standards), but also very fast, and he generally knows when it’s time to duck and run for cover.
Tyler loves to watch Saturday morning cartoons and play board games (a weekly event in the Raesh household), and surf the web reading comics. He loves anything and everything to do with water, from rain to snow to puddles to the ocean, and has a ravenous penchant for seafood. When he grows up, Tyler plans to either be an astronaut, an alien hunter, or a ninja.
Crush/Mate: N/A (Good grief, people, he’s 9!)
Appearance: Tyler may be only nine, but it’s clear that he’s going to be a tall one. He’s already 3’10” and fast approaching his older sister in height (not too surprisingly, considering that otters are more long and lithe than armadillos). He’s completely covered in incredibly soft, waterproof brown fur, with a lighter underbelly and dark paw pads. His long, plank-like tail is a very strong part of his body, and his dad has been working with him on developing techniques for using it in his self-defense lessons. Tyler has long, webbed fingers and a bushel of whiskers, and short, round ears. He is an incredibly good swimmer and can outswim all but the most athletic human swimmers.
Ty wears just about anything, although he especially enjoys shorts. He’d run around in swim trunks in all weather if he was allowed, but he mostly sticks with t-shirts covered in cartoon characters and/or funny pictures. He loves swimming and water to such an extent that no amount of scolding from anyone can keep him from diving into a body of water fully-clothed, so his mom has given up on trying and just makes sure that all his clothes are made of polyester. (Fastest drying material on the face of the Earth, honestly.) He wears sneakers a lot, mostly to protect his foot webbing.
Other:
- Tyler had a brilliant idea a year ago for a two-person move he and Riley could perform together if they ever get caught out by the Bad Guys: Riley can roll into her nigh-impenetrable ball of armor, and Tyler can run behind and roll her into the enemy! As much as Riley would prefer to keep her little bro out of danger, she’s recently admitted that this might be a good plan in case of emergencies, and they’ve been practicing in the backyard. They’ll get around to fixing those broken boards in the fence eventually.
- Tyler doesn’t have many friends right now, since he spends most of his time safe at home. He has a lot of online friends, however, and pretty much considers anyone who talks back to him in a not-snobby voice to be a friend.
- He always has a small backpack with him wherever he goes, which carries the essentials for any 9-year-old anthro kid: candy, video games, a screwdriver, some comic books, a pair of fold-up binoculars, any interesting trash one might happen to find on the street, a can of sardines, and the whalebone tailring birthday present from Dad.
Username: Razor23119
Name: Gary
Age: 23
Race: Grey-Headed Flying Fox
Fighting for: Tolerance
Weapons: A full-sized Glock 17, and five Nightshade jungle darts are strapped to each thigh.
Personality: Something of a warrior poet, Gary is capable of discussing how to best kill someone in a street fight in one breath, and the beauty of a flower within the next. It's not that he's violent, though; he just takes combat as part of life. He is quite amiable, but has a shy streak six-foot wide when it comes to those of the opposite sex. Sure, he is an adult in the prime of his life, but still; old habits from grade school die rather hard.
Bio: Gary had been working as a bodyguard for five years, scraping together enough money to keep a roof over his head. He met his now-partner, a newt named Sydney, two years ago, and the pair have worked together on jobs ever since. Because of this arrangement, and because Sydney is the only one of the two who can cook, they share an apartment. He worries about his partner's sanity sometimes, though...
Crush/Mate: None at the moment.
Appearance: About 5'9", Gary has a small band of red-orange fur around his neck, offsetting the salt-and-pepper fur that covers the rest of his body. His hair is a tousled black mess that hangs in his eyes and down to his jawline, making him seem more like a teenager than an actual adult. His eyes are hazel, an unusual trait among his kind. Unlike actual flying foxes, Gary has full-fledged hands, and his wings begin at the wrist. He is normally clad in stonewashed jeans and a backless shirt. Gary goes barefoot.
Other: Gary doesn't sleep on a bed, and sleeps upside-down on a large iron bar he had installed into the ceiling of his room. His floor is thus rather bare. He sleepwalks sometimes; how he manages that without hitting his head is unknown.
Gary is also something of a raver, and keeps a box of rave-related things in his closet.
He has a few scars on his chest that are visible in the right light.
Because of the fur on his chest keeping him warmer than most, Gary sometimes forgets his shirt.
Username: flailingwings
Name: Sydney (Syd to her friends)
Age: 20
Race: Newt
Fighting for: Peace
Weapons: A pair of fingerless gloves with steel-studded knuckles combined with several years of kickboxing experience. And a Mamba Pistol lovingly dubbed "Ramirez" (she used to have two but "Karl" was confiscated in an a series of events she simply refuses to disclose- doesn't stop her from complaining about it though). She also has a push blade hidden on her person but she only uses it as a last resort. Or when she can't find the kitchen knives.
Personality: Syd hasn't exactly been playing with a full deck. She's not completely off her rocker but her logic's been a little skewed. However, whatever disadvantage partial insanity puts her at she makes up for with her uncanny ability to follow simple direction. Whether it be learning a complex Muay Thai move or following a recipe off the internet, if you tell her how to do it, she can usually pull it off. For example, she could probably be guided step by step through open heart surgery, but you wouldn't want her to be preforming open heart surgery in the first place. While she's not a bad shot with her Mamba, it bears mentioning that she's easily distracted. She's also a hopeless romantic, and constantly trying (and failing) to play matchmaker for her partner, Gary.
Bio: Hatched in a family of 400 brothers and sisters, Syd wasn't much of anybody before she was "discovered" by a human Muay Thai trainer. Thanks to her quick learning abilities she advanced fairly quickly through the ranks of professional kickboxing. But in the end, due to the rising unpopularity of anthros in general she was eventually ejected from the league and she had to find work elsewhere. It was then that she was roped into the business of guarding bodies; preferably living bodies. It was in this line of work she came across Gary, who taught her a lot about combat outside of the ring. And they've been inseparable partners ever since.
Crush/Mate: No one official as of now, but she has been known to fall for complete strangers as long as they're cute.
Appearance: Syd is a Red Spotted newt. So, as you can assume, she is red and spotted. Her eyes are completely yellow with rectangular black pupils. If you can imagine a gummy bear dropped on it's back into a bowl of sugar then you have a pretty close idea of the texture of her skin. She has only three fingers on each hand and three toes on each foot. Her body is about twice as long as a normal human being's. She's about the same height of a human, it's just that her legs contribute less to the height factor. While having shorter legs gives her a disadvantage using Muay Thai, she makes up for it by incorporating her tail, which is as long as her body and just about as thick. Her arms remain about the same length of a human's but in relation to her lengthened body they don't appear so. Being an amphibian, she has no hair. She wears a simple ensemble of a white tank top, a black denim jacket, and dark blue jeans. She shies away from shoes as they hinder her climbing abilities.
Other: Syd likes to paint the skin on her fingers in neon colors even though she doesn't have any nails.
Username: Yubria
Name: Carson
Age: 37
Race: Komodo Dragon
Fighting for: Revenge
Weapons: He usually keeps something like three handguns, a knife, and a pocket knife on him at all times. He also tends to carry around a backpack, which can have any number of similar items (like more guns, ammo, repair tools, lock picks....). Claws aren’t sharp but can still do plenty of damage, tail is great for whacking people, scales are fairly good protection. His mouth is his default answer for anything. Tons of sharp, serrated teeth, bacteria-ridden saliva, and poison that can be injected into his saliva. Despite his natural defenses, he doesn’t believe in hand-to-hand combat if any sort of projectile is available (and he’ll use almost anything as a projectile).
-Abilities: Very strong, surprisingly stealthy, fairly quick on his feet, and fast over (very) short distances. Hearing isn’t good, eyesight is okay (stationary objects are hard to pick out more than a short distance away, but motion is easily spotted. night vision is terrible, but his Jacobson’s Organ and night vision goggles get him around that), smelling is awesome (uses tongue and nose, can pick out smells from over 3 miles away).
Personality: Good- generally likes anthros, likes having friends around, likes helping his friends, usually hard to irritate (unless you pick on his friends or make fun of his breath), optimistic, deeply believes that anyone can make a change for the better, pretty open about himself and his past, and he’s a pretty sharp thinker. Very hard to intimidate because he’s very secure in his own size and abilities and finds it amusing when people get mad at him.
Bad- likes to irritate/annoy people when he’s bored (one of those ‘I’m the only one allowed to pick on my friends’ type of things), gets stuck on his first impressions of people, hates humans with a passion, and tends to make excuses for anything questionable he does. When he does get angry, he holds grudges like nobody’s business and takes revenge almost to an art form (he hasn’t bothered to realize that his drive for revenge conflicts with his belief that anyone can change).
Bio: He was used, for obvious reasons, as a super soldier, and gained a deep hatred for humanity when he realized the condition of some of his fellow super soldiers were in, especially after they had been wounded in battle. He got so fed up with it that one day he just left, but not before stealing quite a bit of weapons and other paraphernalia and leaving a general path of destruction behind him. Now he works odd jobs (security positions, stores, fast food, mechanic, painter...) but they usually don’t last long, because his size and breath tend to intimidate customers.
Crush/Mate: None
Appearance: Tall, bulky, covered in gray-brown scales, and has a black dragon tattoo on his left arm and shoulder. He’s very muscular, but his extra folds of skin and slight storage of fat make it difficult to tell. His claws are curved, but not especially sharp. His mouth has more than enough teeth, all of which are sharp and serrated and constantly being replaced by even sharper teeth (his teeth are usually hidden inside his gums, although he will occasionally bare them). Like other lizards, he has a forked tongue and stiff lips. The stiff lips can be a bit of a problem at times- certain words and sounds are difficult, if not impossible for him to pronounce (like ‘w’ and ‘qu’). Not to mention, he can’t keep his lips closed when he chews. He always has terrible breath that no amount of any sort of mint can cure, and frequently drools without realizing it.
Height: 7’ 3” (but usually slouches to about 6’ something) tail is about 7’ long on its own.
Weight: around 440 lbs
Other: He’s very self conscious about his bad breath, but he won’t admit it. Just because he can eat anything doesn’t mean he will... unless you dare him, or he wants to gross you out. He has a weakness for unhealthy snack foods, sweets, and any form of meat. He likes chewing gum and swears that one day he’ll be able to figure how to blow bubbles with it. He likes dumpster diving because he never knows what he’ll find. He also likes listening to music- if he hears a song he’s in the mood for, he might break into (very off-key) singing and dancing for no other reason than because he can.
Username: Sanguine_Sonata_Deige
Name: Monere
Age: 22
Race: Maned Wolf
Fighting for: Revenge
Weapons: A series of poultices, vials and syringes that are filled with pestilence, poison and a few make-shift explosives. His gasmask doubles as an aerator which produces clouds of a particular poison he loads into it. It protects him from any aerated toxins. His final weapon is a simple pistol of no distinguishable make or model, holding only about 12 shots.
Personality: In everyday interactions, Monere is a mild-mannered calm and collected figure. He is very unassuming, but not very approachable. While cordial and nonabrasive, he seems to have a slight twinge of a dark demeanor which tends to guide people away from his path. His quiet voice is slightly effeminate, as though his vocal cords stagnated early in puberty.
When under the guise of the Pale Rider, Monere grows completely cold and calculating. He has no remorse and not a single ounce of respect, care or consideration for anything that gets in his way. He tends to stay silent; the kill now ask later type of aggressor. The vague eyes beneath his skull-shaped gasmask have no trace of empathy.
Bio: As a child, Monere had a very pleasant life. Of course, this was before the sudden aggregation of hate towards the anthro population. His parents did what they could to shelter him, trying to protect their son from the darkness of the world. He had a great potential to be a contributing member of the scientific community, frequently asking for chemistry sets and various biological kits to perform experiments even in his young age. When the beatings and hate-fueled outbursts of the human race grew more frequent, his family began to move, never once stopping.
While on the road, Monere’s parents did their best to tutor him In their respective professions. His mother was a wildly talented Anesthetist who worked in an Anthro-Friendly Hospital. She was extremely well-versed in anatomy, physiology and the biochemical processes of humans and anthros alike. His father was a biochemist who excelled greatly in producing new medicines and synthetic alternatives to natural remedies.
Things were okay for a while. With the constant moving across the United States, Monere’s family escaped particularly hateful areas and found temporary respite in tolerant or friendly areas. As time went on, however, Monere found himself growing corrupt. Despite his parents’ effort, a hate group managed to abduct Monere, forcing him into a small cage and storing him in a putrid cesspool of other kidnapped individuals, both dead and alive. It was here that Monere understood. He was 16 and experienced the true ugliness of the world first-handed. While in this place the human captors tortured him and the others. Within the first night his captors tied him down and castrated him and a whole group of other pups.
By the time his parents got there, he had been deprived of food for days; grotesque and dirty they plucked him from the piles of carrion and tried to escape. Unfortunately for Monere’s parents, not all of the captors were slain in their heart-felt attempt to save their son. All it took was two gunshots and they were dead on the ground. Assuming that the child in their arms was a corpse they were trying to salvage, the killer turned his back. It was then that Monere experienced the thrill of revenge.
He quietly brought himself to awareness and grabbed the pistol from his father’s belt. With a shaky hand, he aimed and fired. Unfortunately for the killer, Monere only got him in the hip. The man fell to the ground and fueled by bitter rage Monere stood and dragged himself towards the whimpering human. Monere glared into the man’s eyes, proliferating the flesh and gazing into the very depths of the man’s tortured and disgusting soul. He raised the pistol and used the butt of it to repeatedly beating the man’s face into oblivion. All the remained were tattered pieces of flesh and bone. Monere smiled. He stood once more and went into the world.
For a while, he survived as a small-scale thief. Mainly getting food and sustenance, but sometimes risking his stealth to obtain chemicals, biological agents and materials for bizarre and twisted mixtures of the most virulent and damaging chemicals known to man. Armed with his growing collection of pestilence, Monere clings to the shadows of society picking targets, caused chaos and plotting the release of something that would affect the human race for all of eternity…
Crush/Mate: None.
Appearance: Monere stands at about 5’10”, being a bit shorter than most of his anthro brethren on his species. His brown fur sometimes gets patchy or thin, but he always has a strip of black fur running from his head down the end of his tail. His black hair is unkempt and lazily buzzed short on the sides and messy and long down the middle. The line of hair flows directly into his back fur, his long coarse mane usually sticking out of the back of his shirts. His eyes are a sickly greenish yellow color, his black sclera giving off a slightly unnerving appearance. He usually wears ‘normal’ clothes, generally neutral and black colors. He is always carrying a backpack which contains his mobile chemical lab, and will sometimes carry a briefcase if he’s preparing to disperse a chemical that needs to be taken good care of.
When under his Pale Rider persona, Monere dons a gasmask fashioned to look like a wolf skull and he wears all black clothing, boots and gloves. The neck of his gas mask has a tattered black fabric to hide his neck and most of his upper body, the broken and unwoven edges adding an ethereal sense to his overall appearance. He has many pockets and straps containing his poisons. Some are powders, liquids, gases… his victims never anticipate their mode of death. Although he prefers to perform killing in a low-key or assassination method, he will never overlook the opportunity to watch a person suffer.
Other: Monere is extremely nimble and agile. His swift and sudden movements are sometimes hard to follow in his mass of black clothing and he has often been rumored to personify death itself. Oftentimes he revels in the fear his persona strikes in the heart of the world, yet he has never once been accused of anything. He has no real documentation or real Social Security Numbers. He has a few fake IDs each with different names.
Username: CarryonFalcon
Name: Leere
Age: At least mid 30s, probably older
Race: Deinonychus, of sorts
Fighting for: Tolerance
Weapons: His body first and foremost, including his two sickle like toeclaws. A small, curved sword is hidden within the folds of clothing, the metal of which is covered in intricate, microscopic patterns that almost give it the appearance of true damascus steel and not pattern welded steel. Not his preferred method, he does carry a M9 he 'acquired' a while back, hiding in his clothing along with a silencer and a few extra mags.
Personality: Calm and laid back, while also always on edge. He sees the worst, while hoping for the best. Curiosity drives his entire life, and humor is very important to him. Little other than time can explain him.
Bio: He has been around since the crash of the ships, though few have seen or know of him. Even his name is nothing more than a word the few who have interacted with him have attached to his presence. Leere- empty. He has been working on both sides of the line, though never in a place that had any affect on relations between anthros and humans. Light jobs, in everything from janitorial to active research in physics. Even jobs in the underworld, though nothing violent.
When the hatred hit full swing he vanished for some time. The few that knew him didn't think much of it, until they didn't see him for years. Soon the memory of the Deinonychus known as Leere vanished, until just recently. His old contacts are in buzz at the news of his resurgence, his habit of appearing unannounced and suddenly within their homes rightfully stunning quite a few. A specific goal is now driving him, one that seems to amuse the anthro greatly despite the scale.
Crush/Mate: None
Appearance: Standing at his full height, he is a few inches short of six feet and is actually lean and compact. His body is covered in soft feathers from the tip of his snout to the end of his tail where they become much more stiff. Scales cover the underside of his body, along with the majority of his snout. A tail roughly four feet in length is either lazily swaying behind him, and is almost prehensile. Everything from his claws to the base of his feathers is a dark black, neither glossy nor dull. Only his eyes, a shade of amethyst darker than the emptiness between the stars, are not pure black. His slitted pupils bisect down the dark purple, hiding many tales.
Other: Extremely flexible, coordinated and agile he is able to perform feats of physical prowess that few would expect. Thanks to coordinating his movements and muscles, much like a master martial artist is able to produce more power than his size would suggest. Leere is also hard to track with any senses. He gives off almost no scent whatsoever, save for a subtle hint of cold copper almost imperceptible to even the strongest anthro olfactory senses.
