Name: K.
Instant Messanger: neenjarr
MuseName: Onose Jun
Nickname(s): J.
Band: Luna Sea, Solo
Gender: Male
Age: From the Old ages long forgotten
Sexuality: Growling
Sexual Position: VERY seme
Race: Lupine
Character history:
J is the big bad wolf, the one that ate the pigs and Red Ride's granny and the boy who cried for him, too. He's the one who coined that stupid saying about wearing fleece (That was for the one lame costume party) and the one who started all that dumb werewolf craze just because some busybody spotted him skinny dipping in a lake at midnight…in mid-transformation. Before anyone starts judging, it's WAY easier to bathe (and dry) a scrawny pink human as apposed to 600 pounds of furry fandango. Think of all that water going into those big ears! Big teeth! Big googly eyes! Anyway after that fiasco, the witches and wizards decided that lakes were hella magical and started plonking all sorts of stuff inside, like pretty rhyming ladies and swords and such. That too started the next fad: Littering. (To think people assumed it was Hansel and Gretel who made THAT hip…)
Character Abilities:
Somewhere along the way he was able to take on the form of human flesh at will. It must have been all the wild magic running amok in the thickly-forested homelands, what with story-telling geese and golden eggs and such. Boy can he huff and puff and hold his breath like a sperm whale. J comes equipped with a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth, claws, free arctic insulation and a leap that surpasses mountains but when he's a pink human all he's got is a lot of wind. Batteries not included.
Side: Monsters
Appearance: Scruffy, unkempt and mutt-like even in pink form. Has grey eyes.
(Think this with the size of an elephant)
Personality:
Contrary to popular belief, J prefers his meat cooked. He's just too impatient to start a fire. He's grumpy and cynical for all the right reasons. Everyone thinks he's BIIIG…and BAAAAD. Hey, even wolves need to eat, right? Living in the homelands with talking creatures everyhootwhere makes it dang near impossible to find supper without killing aunt and uncle so-and-so. Now that wolf skins are in the same prized category as bear skins and tiger skins, he's been seeing less and less of his kind. Maybe he should start skinning pinks just to see how THEY like it. What do you know, new floor rug.
Likes: Wagyu steak and marbled kurobuta. A wolf THIS old has gotta have taste!
Dislikes: Fleas. And bunnies. Hate them bunnies.
Strength: The law of claw and fang
Weakness: Oaths
Role play Sample:
It had been days since he tasted fresh kill. J skulked along the grassy hills of the Aleutian Islands, keeping close to the unmanned borders and valleys the lands provided. His muzzle was dry and his teeth missed the crunch of cracking bones. The vast sea beyond promised thick meaty fish but he wasn't a big fan of seafood, or water for that matter. That one time with the rocks in his belly was one time too many. It was late enough now for him to emerge from the shadows, depending on the cover of night to keep his movements discreet. The village beyond held some twenty-odd pinks, enough to satiate his appetite for the coming week. He just needed to remember to eat the damned kids. The last time he went soft, they somehow returned with a hunting party and nearly sliced his tail off.
What's a wolf without a tail?
"Kids first."
J grunt-reminded himself as he crouched low behind a hill. His nose picked up the scent of dinner fires and melting pots and human milk, crying babies and grass-stained boots from the harvesters too that just returned home. Soon it wouldn't matter anymore when all of that ended up in his belly.
"And watch the damned guns."
With that muttered, he streaked off into the night as swift and quiet as a breeze.
---------------------------------------------------
They're not up there yet, they sleepin