by Collie » Sun Jan 09, 2011 7:08 am
Username: Collie
Favorite type of RP: Wolf (animal roleplays)
Sample of writing:(My first post on Devour, A Dog Semi literary Roleplay )
Pitched high in the desolate sky, shone a vagrant moon, it's dim light filtering through the naked branches of the trees over head. Shattered rays of moonlight danced on the ground as the relentless force of the wind sent the tree's limbs wavering. The only noise to off-set the subtle rumble of the wind was the scuttling of dried leaves as they darted back and forth across the road. In the distance, the larger leaves resembled devious vermin, roaming the night.
A desolate autumn scene loomed over the city, on what should have been a bitter winter's night. Winter had long come to pass, never to reveal itself again. As it came time for the changing of the seasons, few things were altered in this permanent wasteland, it remained frozen in time. Few lonely souls wandered these streets, predestined to continue their struggle until they met their determined fate, that is, if they were to be so lucky. The municipality left in ruins, this city waited, identical to each and every other left in its country, patient for someone, or something, to breath life back into it. Unfortunately, such dreams were ridiculously unobtainable, nothing could have saved humanity from itself, it had been doomed to become a dying race.
In amidst the remnants of the destruction, bathed in the glow of the pale moonlight, the silhouette of a canine could be depicted. Under the luminous night, her short coat gleamed a deep shade of blue. The dobermann stood, a statue of elegance, gazing out into the darkness. Her ears pricked at the sounds echoing through the night.
The air, she had since grown accustomed to, was tainted with the perfume of carnage, the scent left a bad taste in the mouths of the living. The smell of rotting flesh overcame even the fresh air pertained by the breeze. Blue, slowly padded into the night in search of hope, in search of other survivors, for far too long she had been alone. When you are alone your mind seems to taunt you with the constant reminders of the past, relapsed memories of the lost. She could faintly hear the clicking of untrimmed nails less than a street over, accompanied by the scent of blood, fresh blood. Uncertain of what she might find, she headed in the direction, aware that she was not the only one who might respond to the calling of canine blood.
Any semi-lit/lit RPs you have: The Valley of Lyall (Wolf Roleplay)
Everyone here most likely has a life outside of CS, and it needs to be addressed more than this one.}}