Post by Cest on Jul 9, 2010 21:33:13 GMT -5
I'M A FETUS AND I'M APPLYING SO CAN BE A FETUS YAY!? I:
OOC
Furcadia Name: Cest
Times On: Constantly. I think I should download a life.
Age: Old enough to be in this dream :3
Why do you think you're a good choice for this group?: Because I enjoy roleplaying in a friendly group, and as Zumu and Xonas know, have been roleplaying for a long period of time. I've also been in Zumu's previous packs, and made myself... semi-useful oocly there, if a bit obnoxious icly
Of course, not on Cest. I also think I'd be a good choice for this group because I'm semi-friendly oocly and get along rather well with the other members of the clan. I think.
IC
Name: Cest
Gender: Male
Age: FETUS
Mates: Um. No. I'm a fetus.
Offspring: I'm a fetus.. ):
Species: Hellhound/Kitsune/Raccoon (All Xioseki)
Height at Shoulder: Dragon form: Ten feet. Dog form: Two feet. Raccoon Form: ... Um. A big bigger then a normal raccoon?
(When he grows up)
Weight: I can't come up with it off the top of my head but.. Severely underweight for all forms.
Rank Wanted: Prince
Why do you want this rank?: Because I'm roleplaying Zumu's fetus, and thus it's only natural that I be prince? >> Fear my horrible explanations. Also, it seems like it'd be a lot of fun to roleplay a little spoiled prince and have him boss everyone around when mummy dearest or Aunty Xoxo isn't around to keep him in line.
Roleplay Example: Small creature wriggled as he let out a series of mental screeches. Having been intelligent enough to communicate with Zumu, albeit with mostly only emotions, whilst in the womb, Cest was intelligent enough to be as aware of his surroundings as possible in the newborn body for a raccoon. Infantile mind was still, however, struggling to understand the new surrounding he found himself in, unopened infant blue eyes unable to tell him anything. A strangled noise, muffled from the stitches that kept his mouth shut, with the exception of that always strange gap in the front. Tiny creature's tail flailed, trying to find his already beloved parent despite his lack of ability to move. Cold, cold, cold. Single word was blasted through his infantile mind, without any real idea of what he was screaming inside his head. In reality, it was hardly a word, more of a feeling he was, in his distress, sending to his mothers head. Hungry, Hungry, Hungry. Distressed little mewls escaped for him, wondering why he wasn't warm and fed. Most likely, the stupid little thing had somehow rolled away from Zumu, or the queen had fled from it in an attempt at getting some peace and quiet. One couldn't blame the Queen, with how loud this little creature could get when distressed. However, he was usually quiet and content when mummy was around to Keep him nice and warm and comfortable. A mama's boy in training, it seems. Infant's voice rose in still higher squeaks, though they held no anger. He couldn't articulate any better then the muffled squeaks and little cries, so he settled for gurgling, finally giving up his mad thrashing and distress to lay on the ground, the young 'coon cub letting out one more final squeak of sadness. He wanted his mommy! The distressed thing curled into a ball the best he was able to at his young age, suckling on the end of his tail.
Consent to death: Of course :B
OOC
Furcadia Name: Cest
Times On: Constantly. I think I should download a life.
Age: Old enough to be in this dream :3
Why do you think you're a good choice for this group?: Because I enjoy roleplaying in a friendly group, and as Zumu and Xonas know, have been roleplaying for a long period of time. I've also been in Zumu's previous packs, and made myself... semi-useful oocly there, if a bit obnoxious icly
Of course, not on Cest. I also think I'd be a good choice for this group because I'm semi-friendly oocly and get along rather well with the other members of the clan. I think. IC
Name: Cest
Gender: Male
Age: FETUS
Mates: Um. No. I'm a fetus.
Offspring: I'm a fetus.. ):
Species: Hellhound/Kitsune/Raccoon (All Xioseki)
Height at Shoulder: Dragon form: Ten feet. Dog form: Two feet. Raccoon Form: ... Um. A big bigger then a normal raccoon?
(When he grows up)Weight: I can't come up with it off the top of my head but.. Severely underweight for all forms.
Rank Wanted: Prince
Why do you want this rank?: Because I'm roleplaying Zumu's fetus, and thus it's only natural that I be prince? >> Fear my horrible explanations. Also, it seems like it'd be a lot of fun to roleplay a little spoiled prince and have him boss everyone around when mummy dearest or Aunty Xoxo isn't around to keep him in line.
Roleplay Example: Small creature wriggled as he let out a series of mental screeches. Having been intelligent enough to communicate with Zumu, albeit with mostly only emotions, whilst in the womb, Cest was intelligent enough to be as aware of his surroundings as possible in the newborn body for a raccoon. Infantile mind was still, however, struggling to understand the new surrounding he found himself in, unopened infant blue eyes unable to tell him anything. A strangled noise, muffled from the stitches that kept his mouth shut, with the exception of that always strange gap in the front. Tiny creature's tail flailed, trying to find his already beloved parent despite his lack of ability to move. Cold, cold, cold. Single word was blasted through his infantile mind, without any real idea of what he was screaming inside his head. In reality, it was hardly a word, more of a feeling he was, in his distress, sending to his mothers head. Hungry, Hungry, Hungry. Distressed little mewls escaped for him, wondering why he wasn't warm and fed. Most likely, the stupid little thing had somehow rolled away from Zumu, or the queen had fled from it in an attempt at getting some peace and quiet. One couldn't blame the Queen, with how loud this little creature could get when distressed. However, he was usually quiet and content when mummy was around to Keep him nice and warm and comfortable. A mama's boy in training, it seems. Infant's voice rose in still higher squeaks, though they held no anger. He couldn't articulate any better then the muffled squeaks and little cries, so he settled for gurgling, finally giving up his mad thrashing and distress to lay on the ground, the young 'coon cub letting out one more final squeak of sadness. He wanted his mommy! The distressed thing curled into a ball the best he was able to at his young age, suckling on the end of his tail.
Consent to death: Of course :B
