ampelios - male - domestic dog [ wip ]

BASICS:
NAME: Ampelios.
ALIAS: Amp.
AGE: Nine years.
GENDER: XY.
SPECIES: Domestic Dog.
BREED: mutt. [ bullmastiff x boxer x mastiff X great dane x bullmastiff x mastiff] x [ mastiff x great dane x plott hound X mastiff x great dane x boerboel ]
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual.
PACK: Packless.


APPEARANCE:
IMAGE SET: click.
SET PERMISSIONS: Images are CC.

COAT: Short, coarse, often full of dust.
COLOR: brindle in color, with a white patch on throat, and the front of his chest.
EYES: Light caramel brown.
SCARS: none that are clearly noticeable. a few small ones speckle his body, here and there.
HEIGHT: thirty two inches.
WEIGHT: one hundred and sixty seven pounds, approximately.
COMPLETE APPEARANCE:
Describe your character's appearance here. This should be no less than seventy five words.


PERSONALITY:
TRAITS: Quiet,Observant, Hard on himself, Intelligent, Independent, Gentleman, Sarcastic, Charming, Humorous, Flirtatious, Determined, Aggressive, Self-loathing, Forgiving, Complex, Uncaring (or so he plays), Intimidating, Unbreakable (as he plays it), Confident (outwardly), Bold, Enigmatic, Ticking Timebomb.
COMPLETE PERSONALITY:
I'm a quiet man. Point blank, end of story, really. You won't get much more out of me than a grunt or growl. Perhaps a short response? Hell, if you're really lucky, you might just get a decent conversation out of me, since sometimes even an old man like me feels the need to socialize. But, keep in mind, young uns. Being quiet can play in your favor, by rewarding you with a brilliant gift known as 'knowledge'. It's a beautiful thing. Try filling your brain with it, rather than filling your brain with shit, you know. It will take you a hell of a lot farther than remaining stupid. Shutting your fucking trap, makes you see some things, and you magically become this wonderful thing known as 'observant'.

Despite my general 'not giving two fucks' attitude towards everything, for a dog so old, I'm hard on myself. But granted, if you ever happen to get snippets of my history, you'll understand the cause of this. Once you've gotten the blood of the ones you love on your own tongue, not once but three times, you tend to start blaming everything bad in your life on yourself. Why wouldn't you? I mean, really, less there really is some higher being that's taking a sick joy in fucking with your life, it really is all your own fault. Don't go blaming others, because honestly, blaming others is the most pointless shit created by the most cowardly little fuck in the whole damn world. Shit, daddy maybe?

Some might say old age is a real bitch. Hell, I agree, but I'm still trucking along, ain't I? Being old, it ain't all bad you know? Those things your momma tells you when your little, and you're asking a lot of annoying as fuck questions? You always ask that one question that gets that 'when you're older' answer. You might assume that's only when you're little and stupid, or old and stupid, since young dogs? They know everything, the secret of life, don't you know? Regardless, have a bit of power in the think-tank does come with age. It's more than just eat, shit, fuck. Those aren't the basics of life... Well, I suppose they are, but you get what I mean. There's more to life, it's a complex thing and if you can't learn from your own stupidity, then you're just going to die. Natural selection, don't you know? I tell you what you do. Stay stupid when you're little, do everything while you know everything, and then do nothing, because by that point you're no more alive than the shit you took this mornin' after dragging yourself to your paws. Take ques from like, young uns, before stupidity breeds.

I swear, if I ever hear that 'because your old' excuse from anyone, I'll personally rip their balls off, and shove them down their throat. Or pull their damn ovaries out of their stomach. Which ever happens to be appropriate for the situation. There is nothing that pisses me off more. Just because I'm old don't mean I'm a feeble brute with shaky paws. I'm still quite sturdy, you wouldn't think I'm as old as I am. Granted, I do feel my age sometimes, but, nothing would be more of an insult to me than offering help because I'm old. That's worse than taking your shit and rubbing it in my face. Don't ever try to say I need help, because I fucking don't. I've survived on my own this long, and surviving alone is exactly what I'm going to do until I fucking fall over dead. I don't mind being alone, though I do get lonely sometimes I suppose... But if I need it, I'll seek out social interaction. But I'd sooner sniff out a cat than talk to someone with shit for brains like most running around today.

Guess I don't come off as anything more than a foul mouthed old brute, right? Well, Momma raised me right. I'm quite the gentleman when I want to be. What can I say? Despite the fact that my father was a complete and total religious asshole, Momma taught me to be a gentleman. She taught me to be polite, civilized, and to never raise a claw in ill-will against a lady, or against another male for that matter. Momma always had this preconceived notion that I liked males. She wasn't too far off, but really I'm a lady's man, not much of a man's man. Not anymore anyways. Even through the slight oddity that has been my life prior to now, I've never quite given up those things Momma taught me. You don't see enough gentlemen today, and honestly, I like being one of the few. Who wouldn't? It draws a hell of a lot more attention, and it gets you noticed much quicker than being a savage, heartless fuck-machine who thinks with nothing but his cock.

Even with that all being said, and very much true... As I'm sure you've notice... Or perhaps not, I'm quite the sarcastic asshole. Hm... I'll put it in simple terms, just for you, baby cakes. I'm fluent in two languages. One, if for someone of your low, and simple caliber. The second is something of which I can tell goes right over your pretty little head, baby cakes. It comes naturally and easy to me, heh, guess I got pegged with the one thing that first got my mother fucked, and then beaten into a submissive little lying whore of a bitch. Just for you simpletons, baby cakes, most of the time you really can tell the things that come from my mouth are not true, but the opposite of what I've spat out. But then... Maybe you don't know, yeah? Perhaps you are one of those simpletons who believe every syllable a mouth utters, even if they are the falsest of sounds.

But hey baby cakes, every dog has his day, eh? If I really want to, I can be quite the charmer. Hmm... A smooth talker, a tongue made of sugar and honey. I could make those pretty little lips turn up in a shy little smile, I could make you laugh and giggle. Just the question is, do I really want to? Generally, no. My smooth talking, womanizer days have passed, though I still have a go or two in me. That is, if you really want to dance with a brute like me... Hey, if you've got a pretty face, go on turn around, give this old dog the full look-up yeah? Eh... Not worth my time, baby cakes, looks like you've let far to many boys in. They don't know how to properly care for that, and bitch, clearly neither do you!

Suppose you had no sense of humor... Life would get pretty boring, pretty quick wouldn't it? I may have a dirty sense of humor, but I do have one. It's about as clean as my mouth, which let's face is, is as about as clean as a over-used whore's crotch. Regardless though, being able to laugh at things has gotten me through some hard patches in my life. Life's far too short to go through it as if you've gotten the biggest dick in the world shoved up your ass, and hey, don't you know? Laughing can make you live longer... Something like that anyways. Rather than get offended by things, or grouchy like the normal run of the mill old man, I'll simply laugh at whatever you say. Why let a little bitch get a good dog down, eh? I'm a humorous man, when I want to be... And just so long as you haven't truly pissed me off.

I'll admit it, I'm a flirt, baby cakes. Little pet names, and shit like that. Regardless of whether I'm trying to be a charmer or not, I'm generally a flirtatious old man. But like I said earlier, my womanizer days are long gone. I want no more, and generally now, my flirts come across as halfhearted attempts to 'get it in', even if they're not quite meant as such. I'm an old man, everyone assume I only want to get my cock wet, eh? But to go along nicely with that flirtatious man in me, I'm also the determined old fuck.

If I really want something, I'll be hell bent on getting it until I do. Determination gets you far, determination and intelligence? Fuck, that get's you damn far! I just don't stop, which I suppose is also a down fall, because once a thought crosses my mind... It's generally impossible for me to forget it until I've made it a personal goal... Even the bad things, baby cakes. How else would I have tasted the blood of three different loves, and my only son on my lips? Even those devious, dark, and murderous thoughts that happen to flutter through my mind sometimes get stuck. Especially if I've gotten a particular grudge towards someone for some reason. Sorry baby cakes. If the thought crosses my mind that I want you dead, well to damn bad. I'd rather kill you than drive my self up a goddamn wall.

Every man has his aggressive streak. Mine peaked in my younger years, and has faded off a little... But I do still have a bit of a aggression problem from time to time... Especially if I'm worked up, which, mind you, isn't too often. I'll be nice, if not a bit of an asshole too you, until you get on the wrong side. That's usually when a bad through crosses my mind, and well, sorry baby cakes. I don't always openly admit to out right killing the dogs I have killed, and mind you it wasn't conscious... But, I cannot promise that I won't do it again, even though I don't particularly care for the taste of guilt and blood mixing on my tongue. It's bitter, and cold, and not to pleasant at all. With the life that we've found our selves in... You won't find to many that don't have an aggressive streak, on one level or another.

I'll be the first to admit that guilt can tear you down. I hate that I let the guilt of what I did get to me, drive me a little crazy for a few months... But, that's passed... The only thing it left was a bitter self-loathing that I secretly hold for myself. I fucked up my own life, I'll take full responsibility for that. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. But, I no longer mentally attack myself, and I never was much one to physically hurt myself. My guilt wasn't that bad. I know I bear the sin of what I did, and I know I've more blood staining my fur than I should have... I know full well that I don't have a happy place waiting for me after death, hell maybe that's why I'll hold on until the fucking bitter end. I'd like to think that maybe I'll be forgiven for what I did, but I don't hope for it, I don't pray. God, The Earth Mother, who ever the fuck it is, I know they don't want to hear the ramblings of an old man who killed. I've repent myself, I've paid my dues here on earth, the only punishment left for me is after I die, an I don't plan on that happening any time soon. You're not getting rid of me that easily now.

Believe it or not, Momma actually raised me to be a forgiving man. I understand others make mistakes... But, it cannot be helped if I go and hurt them in a sick and bitter revenge. I'm my father's boy after all. I got his sick temper, and I miraculously, but quite by accident adopted his ways of making females scared of him, I'm ashamed to say. I won't claim I won't hurt you, or beat you, but I can promise I can love, and forgive... If I don't take things to far, again, that is. But hey... Accidents happen, right?

I'll be the first to admit that I'm a hard man to understand. I can be the nicest, gentlest giant you'll ever met, not meaning anyone any harm... But then, press just the right buttons in just the right order, and I'll be a beast from hell, the likes of which you have never seen. To truly understand me, you've have to be a border line fucking genius. You can claim all you want, but truly, I don't think anyone, not even me myself will really understand every little aspect of me, because there are so many, some a little contradicting too. But you're welcome to waste your time trying, if you so wish. I ain't the man to stop someone with a wish.

I'm uncaring. Selfish, if you will, baby cakes, even though that's not quite the right word to describe what I am. Helping out another isn't something I feel like I should do. No one helped me, no one answered those screams for help from my baby girls, my baby boy, or my handsome lover. No one came, despite the fact that I knew they could be heard. I couldn't help them, certainly not, I was to fucking busy ripping them apart! No one saved my family from the monster that I can be, so why the hell should I care enough to help anyone else? I play like I care only for myself, but I guess that is what you might be able to call a 'shield'. I've seen the bad side of life, I've seen the bad side of myself. Caring for others got me nothing but heartache. I refuse to go down that path again, no matter how much I want to care.

You see a large brute of a dog coming towards you, head low, shoulders rolling, and despite the hint of old age, this giant still strikes something within you. What is that, baby cakes? It's intimidation. I never quite mean to do it, but fear of something so much bigger than yourself, fear of something that is clearly a motherfucking powerhouse of brute force is natural. I don't blame others for being just a tad bit skittish around a dog such as myself. Hell, sometimes it's funny. Sometimes it's just annoying as fuck. Hell, having a voice like I do doesn't much help either, now does it? I do have a bit of respect for someone who can look at me, for the first time, and not that that slight 'oh fuck' look cross their faces. I've never met many of those individuals, not even in nine years of wandering this world aimlessly.

With as much as I've been through, nothing phases me, nothing really hurts. I've made myself a shell thicker than a cow's hide. Pathetic little insults don't much bother me anymore, hell to be quite honest, even the rudest of insults I can usually brush off. I can't be sure at which point something's going to break through, because it's never quite the same thing that makes me go off. If you really want to know? Push me until I snap on your pathetic little fucking throat. Done it once, I've no quarrels about doing it again. I've seen, and made hell. I've learned something important. No one can make a hell for you, quite as horribly, or as efficiently as you can for yourself. We each truly are our own worst enemies.

I'm confident. I know what I can do, and what I can't, and if I know I can do it, there isn't one single thing in hell short of killing me that you can do to stop me. I've stopped second guessing myself, since that only makes a bad situation worse, as I've learned personally. I know I can get what I want, when I want, and I will, even if it takes a little time. I've stopped worrying, stopped second guessing. Once I realized that that was getting me no where... Life became a hell of a lot easier. Take a lesson, kid, and you'll go far. But... That's outwardly... I do admit that, my confidence has faltered in my old age... But... Hey, I've had the prime of my life. I know I'm nothing of what I used to be, but that doesn't mean I have to show you that, now does it? Hell no.

I once was, above all things, and still am usually, a very daring man. I'm usually up for anything, even if I know I really have no ounce of a chance of over coming them. But then, that's where my confidence plays in too. Suppose being confident and bold are a deadly combination, aren't they? They'll be the two traits that will eventually be the death of me, I believe. I'm, to put it very bluntly, am a bold old fuck. I've never been a shy dog, suppose I got that from my father. Essentially, if I think it needs to be said, fuck your feelings, I'm going to say it. Point blank.

An enigma; a perplexing speech or text, a riddle if you will. Hmm, a definition of a word has never fit me quite so well. Just when you think you've gotten me completely figured out, I send you for another loop. I'm a puzzle of which you can never fully piece together, the most complex of equations. An enigmatic brute, complex beyond simple comprehension. And to tell you the honest truth? That's exactly how I like it. There's no fun, no enjoyment in someone once you've gotten them completely figured out. I'll hide things from you, reveal some things, sometimes not fully, anything to send you for a loop, which is why no one, not even those who've sworn up and down that they know me inside and out, truly knows me. They don't know the tune of cranking of the inner gears of my mind, they don't know what makes me tick, what thoughts truly scuttle through my mind. I've always got a secret, something to tell of which you've never heard, or never would have expected of me. This comes with age, I suppose. A complex enigma, such a perfect phrase, isn't it, baby cakes?

Now for the last, and perhaps most shocking portion of my personality, and something of which I can promise you'll never fully understand. I'm a ticking time-bomb. You'll think me to be the good guy, and usually I am... But I can be a true bad guy, and I know at some point I will be. I'm truly my father's boy, and my father was a brutal, vengeful, and bloodthirsty man. He had it out for himself only, he was his own worst enemy, and he was the cause of his own demise. And I? You, I'm exactly like him, I'm ashamed to say. A copy, right down to the last bit. When I'll go off, no one knows, I don't even know. But when I truly go the direction that my father went... I feel damn sorry for anyone in the blast zone, cause I can promise you this, baby cakes. It will be one hell of a not-so-fun ride.


HISTORY:
MOTHER: Agnes - deceased.
FATHER: Chariton - deceased.
SIBLINGS: - cleitus - male, deceased
- bion - male, deceased
- euclid - male, deceased
OFFSPRING: - exoda - female, a twin
- lilith - female, a twin

- eurynomus - male, deceased
- antigone - female
COMPLETE HISTORY:
SIGNIFICANT OTHERS TO NOTE:
- judith - female, ex-mate, murdered
- kallisto - female, ex-mate, murdered
- iason - male, ex-mate, murdered

BULLET POINT HISTORY:
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PLAYER:
OOC NAME: Harlequin.
OTHER CHARACTERS: None, first character.
EXPERIENCE: Nine years.
HOW'D YOU FIND US?: I made this place!
PASSWORD: To show us you actually read the rules! DO NOT FILL THIS OUT, UNTIL YOU HAVE COMPLETED YOUR APPLICATION!
RP SAMPLE: