[irina]

Kalons-- a species with soft manes and even softer hearts.

Monitored in forests across the globe for years, these animals
have recently been declared naturally tame as well as sentient.
Scientists are asking the general population to consider adopting
Kalons for further study in their capabilities of intelligence.

(edits; standard hair edit, standard custom shine, common longer fur, common custom tail, common sclera color, uncommon custom ears, uncommon custom tongue)

oops sorry it's late, but I hope you guys like this one!
for this contest, tell me how they got their scars, you can have an extra 300 words AND 3 art!

Code: Select all

username;
name;
gender;
how they got their scars;
extra(s);

prettying up with pictures, gifs and coding is all okay!
ends on dec. 10!

[Novi]

username;
name;
gender;
how they got their scars; very carefully
extra(s);

wip ouo

[dolly]

username;
name;
gender;
how they got their scars;
extra(s);

wipp

[madness,]

mark/res

[Anza]

╔═════════════════════╗
xxxxxxxxxxusername; Anza
xxxxxxxxxxname; Kalahan
xxxxxxxxxxgender; Male
╚═════════════════════╝

His accessories are really valuable to him and he treasures them dearly.
His cloak is the very same one which assisted his escape from those who
tried to hurt him as he was run out of town. There full of cuts and rips
which he got from those chasing him but Kalahan has personally worked
on keeping that cloak looking like new. His shovel and lantern serve less
emotional importance to him but he values there assistance in his work
as a grave digger so he carries them around frequently. Overall, he loves
his accessories because he scares many trespassers with his resemblance
of the figure of death.
[107]

how they got their scars;
You must be a brave fellow if you've had the nerve of asking me how
I got my scars. It is, a bit of a probing question don't you think? Its a
personal one too. Now, if you're going to ask me if I got these scars
while fighting zombies in the graveyard I will through you out of the
graveyard for disrespecting the dead. They are after all, gone from
this world, so they deserve some respect don't you think?

Well my story is a painful one. Its not one I'd like to recount either,
but I get such few visitors here that I cannot help myself. I must talk
to you as I often talk to the cement statues and get called crazy
because of it. I lived in a small village, far from any of the
industrializing cities around me. There I lived in a town where everyone
knew your name and the hours in which you came into this world
kicking and screaming. I found myself interested in several, as they
called it, unusual things. I had a love for the sciences, especially
anatomy and chemistry. I would practice scientific experiments
behind my family barn often. It was fascinating and I loved what I
did, until my family and our towns members misinterpreted my
science for sorcery. I was chased out with pitchforks, shovels,
knives and sharpened sticks. I was called a sinner, I was called
a creature from the fiery pits of the underworld.

The cuts and scars I was left with after I had managed to get away
from them hurt. But what hurt more were the wild accusations,
the rumors and the feeling that nobody on earth can understand
me. So here I am talking to you, and you too perhaps don't
understand me or fear my strange appearance. Be gone then! I can
find a patient ear to listen to me in the statues that surround this
graveyard.

about Kalahan;
It comes to no surprise to anyone that Kalahan is a complicated
individual. He likes to keep to himself and prefers to speak to
imminent objects rather than people. It’s not that he hates
everyone who is alive, it’s more that he feels that anyone alive
will judge him or cause him pain by forcing him to recollect his
painful history. He considers himself a man of science and
discovery so he often spends a lot of time reading scientific
articles, books and he often performs experiments himself.
Currently he lives and works at the graveyard where he digs
the ground to prepare for coffins and maintains the grounds
by keeping them clean and scaring off would-be trespassers
and vandalizes. He seems to be a heartless, cold person but
really he just fears being hurt as he had been in the past.
Secretly, he dreams about one day having children and
grandchildren himself. Although he seems to hate others he
truly adores children and values their innocence and openness
to other creatures and other ideas. Perhaps one day he will
have children himself and teach them the importance of
being a understanding individual.
[193]

[freybugg]

username; ~RedWolf~
name;
gender;
how they got their scars;
extra(s);
-cursed

wip!

[Aeryn]

Dropping ;v;

[recherché.]

I have a weakness for tough guys.
No connection though.
Watching for winner c:

[cyberdragon725]

Play Game?
-Yes
No

Continue Previous File?
-Yes
No

Choose Your Mode:
Razcal Mode
-Eli Mode
Nurari Mode
Thatcher Mode

Username; cyberdragon725
Name; Eli Ezekiel
Gender; Male

How They Got Their Scars;
Another day, another dawn. That's what I've always told myself. Words of hope. Words that can guide me safely and give me the determination I need to move through the crypt. Words that, as I came into consciousness, echoed hopelessly in my mind. For a moment, that was all I had. Those words were all I could hear until I continued to wake. Then I felt it, pain. A pain so intense that the echoes were cast into the depths of my mind as I tried not to register it. What had happened? How did this happen? How... How could I fail so miserably?

It had started out as any other day. I gathered my rations, my bombs, and my shovel, finishing the days tasks before making my way towards the grave. The grave that had begun this adventure. The grave that was marked as the entrance to the crypt. For months I have searched, seeking out this entrance which I knew was nearby. I had found a map and now I knew it. There was treasure hidden down there. This wasn't my first venture into the darkness. I had been down thrice already, only venturing through the first few floors to search, but now those floors had been cleaned. I've raided what little treasure lay there and defeated all the enemies. It was time to move on. I felt like I was prepared, like I was strong enough to defeat any enemy almost effortlessly. Each enemy had a pattern of attack and, once you've found it, they become less of a challenge and more of a task. I was becoming arrogant. I passed through the first few floors effortlessly, barely breaking a sweat at the twisting corridors meant to ward away thieves. Finally, as I reached where I had last left off, my eyes fell upon the stairs ahead of me. Gripping my lantern in firm jaws, I took my first steps into the darkness.

Three steps. That was all it took. How could I have been so ignorant? It was there, a mighty beast of red, flames licking its teeth as it turned on me. One step. I though I could take it. The green dragons had never been an issue. Just a few well placed bombs and I could continue on my journey. Surely the red must be the same. Two steps. I hadn't predicted it. I had no idea what I was facing and yet I stepped towards it. It didn't take long to realize my mistake. Three steps. I tried to get to the side and out of the way but it was too late. The force of the fire blast clipped my back, a loud cry escaping before I could react. The power sent me reeling, falling into the ravine that was ahead of me. Vision flickering, the last thing my eyes could see was the Orange flames cutting through the night.

Awake now, I groaned as I pulled myself up, or attempted to anyway. My head ached and my limbs felt fuzzy. I had no vision in my eye, the swelling around it keeping me from gaining any sight. I could feel the metallic taste of blood in my mouth meaning that I had probably bitten my tongue on the way down. Not only that, I could feel the wetness that dripped down my face and chest, probably blood as well. Out, I had to get out. There was no way I could stay down here with these injuries. Gathering what little strength I had left, I pulled myself to my feet. I could only grind my teeth at the pain as I roused my wounds. It seems they were deeper than I thought. I scrambled, searching for my fallen lantern which held the key to my escape. An emergency rune, a magic spell, was engraved into its base. A promise to my closest friend to ensure my safety. Seeing a flicker behind me, I turned only to see orange flames blasting towards me. N-No! That couldn't be! Shaking my head, I rid myself of the memory but I could not shake the fear that was left behind. All I had to do was touch the rune. I didn't even have to be near the flickering light that was slowly fading. Steeling myself, my paw neared it, trembling at the leftover adrenaline and fear. a bright warm glow radiated around me as the cold glass made contact.

I knew that I would never escape that day. Those wounds were deep, leaving an aching reminder of my ignorance and arrogance. I reminder that I should stay humbled and should never underestimate my opponent. These scars would bear this reminder for the rest of my days. I could never be rid of them. There was something else that I would never be rid of. My physical state was not the only thing left scarred. My mental state was a wreck. Every flickering looked like a flame reaching out to strike me down. Every loud sound caused a trembling that I could not cease. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. At one time, I had been strong. Unbreakable even. Now, I was nothing more than a trembling child, scared, scarred, and broken. This was my life now. Just as the mighty Icarus fell from the sky, I too had crossed my boundaries and been burned. Pride was my downfall and now it is my greatest lesson. Now, I protect this crypt warning all those who seek its treasures of the costs they must pay. After all, what good is a scar if you learn nothing from it?

Game Start
extra(s);/ (For me right now. Tba to form)
art:


http://wiki.necrodancer.jp/d/Coral%20Riff

[fab!.]

dropping out