[[I don't have any graphics-making programs on this computer, so I'll request a table if/when this gets accepted.]]

.the roleplayer
Name/Nickname: Sara
Where did you hear about us?: I was site-hopping and I found this place in the Yamamori affiliate box.

.the character
Name: Crow
Nicknames: Blackbird, Raven (any 'variation' of the word crow), Shut-up-weirdo
Gender: Female
Age: Four Years
Breed: Grey wolf
Family: Mother: Sparrow, Father: Clamp, Siblings: Dove [f], Hawk [m]
Appearance: Crow is completely black, hence her name, although she doesn't exactly fit the stereotypical "evil wolf" appearance. Her fur sticks up rather crazily in all directions and her paws look too large for her body. Her left ear has some teeth marks ripped out of it and there are three barely-visible scars right above her right hind paw. Since the skin there is grey, these scars are usually only noticeable if someone is right down next to her paws. Her eyes, an unimpressive shade of yellow-green, convey her emotions surprisingly well -- which of course means that they are strange in their own right. She's pretty skinny and her legs are long; she's built more for running than fighting. Her long legs make agility one of her weak points as well. Crow's symbol, the three lines, is white -- it crosses over the right side of her face, so that the middle line intersects her eye, and the other two lines go around it.
Personality: Crow is extremely unpredictable; to anyone who doesn't know her well, she appears to have multiple personalties (or at least some ridiculous mental disorder). She can go from a violent rage to an almost mocking playfulness, and although her emotions could be compared to a roller coaster, Crow is always in control. She herself isn't entirely aware of why her demeanor switches so often, and she doesn't really care enough about the psychology behind it to look deeper. It's fun to her, and amusing to watch those she interacts with become increasingly confused. Crow is an incredibly conflicted wolf; when someone makes her angry, she wants very badly to be able to hurt them and punish them without remorse -- a rather strange opposite to those killers who wish they could repent. She's the type to tackle someone, pin them to the ground...and then stop, fighting a mental battle against her conscience. Though she's not aware of it, Crow's main desire is to be completely apathetic, and for god knows what reason, she goes about doing this by expressing more emotions in one sitting than some wolves go through in their entire life.

Crow can occasionally stick to one personality, although she finds it incredibly boring, and only utilizes this skill if it's absolutely necessary. She doesn't seem to have much of a sex drive, so she has no problem acting like an idiot in front of an 'attractive' male. A mate is something she'd probably never have, unless she somehow managed to find someone as psychotic as she is.
Fatal Flaw(s): Crow pretty much fails at making good first impressions, since her desire to act like a complete spaz usually overrides any sort of common sense that she may or may not have. She also has the habit of putting her foot (paw?) in her mouth quite often.
History: Crow's life was fairly boring and uneventful. Her parents, siblings, and pack were normal, which is why she was eventually kicked out of it. It was not a hostile "We'll kill you if you return" sort of ban; it was more like "Please, for the love of god, leave us alone." She doesn't talk about this incident very often, and it's always nonchalantly when she does mention it. It didn't traumatize her for life, but it did give her something to brood over, and it only served to fuel her desire for apathy even more. She wandered around for awhile, got into a few fights because of her obnoxiousness, and eventually woke up in Niche. The transition didn't affect her very much, and she went on with her life as usual.
GOOD Role-play Examples:

As Rapier at The Blackblood Alliance.

Rapier was, quite frankly, getting pissed off at the borders of her territory. The last time she'd felt the need to explore them, she'd been insulted and called many mean things by some ugly hyena -- she had not enjoyed that. Why did borders have to exist, anyway? It would be so much easier if she could just eliminate them from Alteron's geography; then the jungle could go on forever and ever, and everyone would always be inside it, and the infidels (of which there were many) would always be punished. That would be living.

The Queen's muzzle twisted into an ugly smile, provoked by the thought of crushing the skull of a random weakling who had no choice but to be on her territory (since it never ended); and then another weakling, and another...and another..and anot--wait! A familiar smell. A smell she did not like. Brushfire, the sentry she had only allowed to live because Blade had stood up for her. Rapier usually didn't listen to anything her son said, mostly because Rapier was always right, and if Blade went against her...he was wrong. That was a very simple equation that her son did not seem to grasp, no matter how many times she had demonstrated its truth upon him. Oh well. He'd learn eventually.

Rapier picked up her pace, eager to meet the "pretty" little female that she so hated. As far as she knew, the Sentry had disappeared for quite some time -- the disappearance of one of her workers would normally have made her angry, but the Queen felt a certain sense of optimism this time. Abandoning her work post? Just another thing for Rapier to yell at her about. Rapier liked to yell. Especially when it was yelling at Brushfire.

Rapier hated Brushfire.

"So I see you're not dead yet," she called, as soon as Brushfire entered her line of sight. Though she hadn't spoken any orders, the meaning was clear: stop where you are so I can bitch at you. The enormous wolf slowed down, taking her time, ambling up to the smaller creature like a cat approaching a mouse, staring at her through manic red eyes. "I'm surprised you haven't taken off yet. Blade hasn't exactly been behaving like your little hero lately." Her tone was surprisingly casual, inviting the other to speak. Of course, Rapier didn't actually like it when other people spoke to her -- the "small talk" was bait; she was hoping that Brushfire would slip up, say something rude. Something that she could be punished for.

Then again, Rapier would probably punish her by the end of this conversation anyway even if her behavior was perfect. The Queen really, really, really hated Brushfire. So much. The effort of being friendly was monumental, but it would be worth it in the end -- she'd make sure of it.


As Inukshuk at The Blackblood Alliance.

Thunderstorms were a subject of relative indifference to Inukshuk; they had never been particularly frightening to her. She'd been through her first storm as a young pup and her parents, blind to danger as always, had assured her that it was perfectly safe. Most of what her parents considered to be safe was in fact just the opposite, and yet the Count had never quite been able to shake away their influence completely. There were some things that could never be erased, no matter how much one went through in their life. Inukshuk had never been harmed by a thunderstorm -- her parents' proclamation was justified, and she had never felt any sort of fear over a drop of rain.

Not to mention the realizations that came with her current profession. Rain was a good cover up, much to the annoyance of most others. But for an assassin, cover was a good thing -- perhaps the Count would have considered it a gift from the gods, if she had believed in such things. Gods, religions...immaterial things that only fools trusted. Inukshuk never blamed anything on 'destiny' or anything silly like that. You received what you earned; there was no higher power deciding things for you.

The rain continued pounding, and the scarred wolf swung her head from side to side in a slow, relaxed manner; the attitude completely at odds with the point of the action. Her left side was completely and quite obviously blinded -- the fact that that entire side of her face was practically ripped off didn't leave room for guessing. Her hearing was good, but she didn't want to risk missing the approach of anyone on her bad side. The head swinging, nonchalantly done, was an efficient way of navigating.

Aside from her lack of fear, Inukshuk was not entirely sure what the hell she was doing out here. The other assassins were probably out on their missions by now, or at least using their sense and taking shelter. She wasn't training, then, unless you considered walking in a rainstorm 'training.' Today was her day for relaxation -- she could consider this walk a bath, even if the drops that reached her had already fallen through the slimy leaves of the canopy overhead. Maybe a bath wasn't the smartest excuse.

The wolf paused for a moment, dragging a breath, trying to separate the smells of individual wolves amid the rain. Her head turned to the left, coming to a complete stop for once. There was someone there; someone who's scent she could not recognize. Someone who's form, when it came into view, she could recognize. Dark...? She'd never been particularly interested in the once-Duke, but his unexpected return was enough to trigger her curiosity. "Welcome home?" The questioning tone was obvious, an invitation for him to enlighten her in some way as to why he was here. That hideously toothy grin appeared over her face, wrinkling her features absurdly. It was meant to be a happy expression, and perhaps Inukshuk was aware of the negative effect it had on her face; it apparently made no difference to her, though. She was pleased to see Dark, whether or not he got that impression.

As Monty at The Blackblood Alliance.

It was probably a good thing that Monty was not a psychic; if he'd looked into Tyae's mind, he would have been extremely confused. And being confused just made him angry. Nobody likes Monty when he's angry. The concept of an entire history without him in it was one that he was unable to comprehend. Swiftkill? She was not the founder of the Alliance to him. She was a random passerby they had met in the Mountains; one that had upset his mother, and in turn upset him. He hadn't met many of the original pack members, and those he had met, he'd insulted and attacked. Nightrun, Scythetrill, Rhinjin...well, he hadn't really acknowledged Rhinjin at all actually, but since Sob seemed to like him, Monty disliked him immensely. He didn't consider his siblings, the future of the Oasis, to be particularly important either. All of them were whiny, or defective in some way, and he figured it was probably better for everyone if they died and got eaten by crows or something. Less mouths to feed!

"I'm surprised she hasn't snapped your little neck yet."

The comment itself did not bother him in the least, for the simple fact that the pup had never entertained the idea that Bloodspill did not love him. No, it was the fact that Tyae had dared to try and insult him that enraged him. She would pay for that! "She wouldn't," Monty snapped, staring at Tyae with all the (laughable amount of) menace that he was able to muster, "Then she'd have to listen to Enamor talk even more. At least I can shut her up sometimes." The pup let no opportunity to brag about his ability to beat up his sister pass by, and he saw no reason to make an exception this time, even if he was aware that Tyae probably had no idea who Enamor was. She probably didn't care either, but that hadn't crossed his mind; who didn't care about the personal affairs of Monty? He was amazing! There were probably rumors spreading through the pack about him already; or at least his litter.

Monty and company. Yes. That was exactly what his siblings would be referred to as, from now on; they were his mindless minions, not worthy of mentioning by name. Actually, Monty didn't have much use for minions -- he preferred doing all the physical fighting and the dirty work himself, even if he hadn't lived long enough to participate in any "dirty work" yet.

"Truthfully I'd be dead if it weren't for her, but I've been alone since I was a child. You? You would wither, and die."

The tricolor bristled, puffing up like an angry cat; how could this big, fat, mean jerkface know Bloodspill? His mother was famous, sure, but nobody...nobody knew her without his permission! And he certainly hadn't approved this meany...head. "Liar! She would have let you die!" With that, Monty went surging forward with a surprising amount of force for one so small (and who's entire body mass seemed to be made up of fat and fur). He was determined, though, despite his less-than-muscular body build, and he was mad. Nobody made Monty mad without suffering the consequences! And Tyae would indeed suffer. He would make sure of that, even if it took him all day. Which it probably would, considering the difference in size and experience between the two now-opponents. Once the pup reached his elder, he'd aim to bite down on her forepaw (or somewhere on her leg, he wasn't too particular). If that was successful, then he'd simply hold on, shaking his head back and forth like he was playing tug-o-war. With Tyae's foot. Tug-o-war with deadly consequences! It was the same attack he'd tried to use on Nightrun, before Enamor had so rudely interrupted him. Just thinking about Enamor and the punishment Bloodspill's accused stalker had avoided made him even angrier than he already was; it was good motivation.

Please wait for another admin to accept you and give you your symbol :D

Some issues with the way I copied my acceptance image, sorry. Anyway, WELCOME TO THE NICHE! Lol. The below is your symbol, it may be anywhere and in any color or size on your wolf.