by RaistlinAgaric » Sat May 05, 2012 5:53 pm
Name: Eridanus
Art: WIP
Personality: Eridanus is a homely soul. She prefers to remain near the den, and cares for young because of this. Most other DRDs call her 'Eridanus, The little mother' because she is so motherly. When Eridanus isn't caring for pups, she is making sure that the rest of her 'pack' is well cared for. She is cautious, bordering neurotic, and becomes very protective when a threat is eminent.
However, her mutation seems to switch her personality, so that she becomes the opposite of how she normally is. She will kill anything that moves, and becomes easily aggravated. Eridanus becomes unstable and quick to lash out, becoming a very dominating figure. No one can talk to her in this state, as she seems to brainwashed. However, she has proven to recognize others in this form, and has even continued to protect pups from danger.
State mutation(Be creative!): After being scratched by a white DRD, Eridanus gained the mutation that altered her blood to start running backward during a full moon. This opposite flow makes her highly unstable, and turns her into a 'werewolf' like creature. She becomes fluffier, and far more deadly, her eyes glow, and her teeth drip with an unknown substance, probably venom. She also makes a strange noise that sounds like a snake's hiss. Finally, snakes start to follow her during the few days before the full moon. She has earned the title "The Hissing One".
Poem: The savannas have become my home
While the others of my kind roam
I prefer to stay at the den
‘til the right circle crosses the lofty dome
I, myself, have had my share of fun
Back when I was young, across the desert, I’d run
Until, that is, my adventure’d end
Now I stay home, ‘til the end of the sun
The white fur had been my only warning
He had blended in perfectly, in the mid-morning
and only when, my skin he did rend,
my only comfort, the vulture’s mute scorning
Now I rest, with the sun and the pups
My only real action’s when the moon is up
and only then does my true happiness mend
when I am not myself but a monster, corrupt
Not the best poem in the world, but, well, it works I guess.