..:: Name: ::..
Max Arthur Copperfield
..:: Description ::..
Max's base color Is a worn down light brown/cream. His 4 paws are white and his tail Is white tipped. His underbelly and chest Is white as well. The white goes up his neck, on his muzzle and up his forward but stops before the ears. The white does not cover his eyes either, It stops directly below and goes in a straight line across his cheek and stops before the back of his neck. He wears a brown, wide brimmed hat and a dark blue jean colored jacket. He has a red and white checkered bandanna, and he wears his rifle
( his 1969 FWB300 to be precised ) around his back.
..:: Personality ::..
Max Is playful and goofy, and loves mucking around. He likes to get up to the occasional trouble, but doesn't do It to upset others.
..:: History ::..
It was the year 1914, and Max was only a child. Max attended a small school In the outback of Australia, with only 12 children, all boys. The teacher, Ms Geldgerz, was cruel and mean and beat you If you got anything wrong. Max had 6 older brothers, and since he was the youngest he often got pushed around. Max, being the youngest dident work like his older brothers, he roamed the countryside, hunting for food and learning different skills along the way. One day when he returned home with a big kangaroo he had caught, when he heard his mother's cry's. He ran back to the little cottage as fast as he could go to find a cart drawn by horses, and his brothers, and several other boys, staring out the small window. So like his brothers he was taken away to serve at the 1WW. He watched his brothers and friends being shot, he heard the screams of the little children, and all this changed him, from a pup, to a brute.....
..:: Short story: ::..
This Is the story of how I turned from a boy, to a man.
The sounds of screams filled my ears. These screams weren't just the screams of men, these were the screams of innocent women, baby's clutching tightly around there neck and little children crying into there legs. Bullets whizzed past me, one almost striking me in the leg. Why was this happening. Why dident someone realize that fighting wasent the solution. A familiar scream filled the air and I turned to see my brother, the only one still alive, being shot in the head and falling limp to the ground. I turned, struggling not to cry and ran through the battle field, shooting the opposing country. I'm not the little boy playing in the trees anymore, I'm the man who fought for his country.
..:: Art ::..
Working on it
..:: Other ::..
I changed the form a bit, I hope you don't mind. If you do just say something and I will change It back again c: