Kabos

[saber]

Photo credit: Intrepid Malinois @ Flickr

CHARACTER NAME: Kabos
AGE: Four Years
GENDER: Male
BREED: Belgian Malinois
ALLEGIANCE: Free Man
PERSONALITY:

Passionate, quick thinker, crude, forlorn, lack of sympathy.

When he believes in something, he can’t be swayed. He’s a canine that believes in everything he does and won’t hesitate to defend his principles. Even if he’s wrong, he won’t admit it. He whole-heartily believes in what he does and won’t let anyone say otherwise.

He certainly likes to be around other canines, simply to escape the feeling of being lonely. He’s very sociable, often found in the company of another (most likely one who doesn’t get offended with his sometimes crude behavior) but he can be forlorn at times. Often times, his past catches up to him, sending him into a spell of depression.

He’s not the most intelligent canine out there, but he is relatively witty. When something surprises him, he’s not one to hesitate. He acts quickly and often effectively, lending all his glory to that brain of his. When a new situation arises, he’s able to react right away and find new solutions to problems that no one wants to address.

He is often vulgar. Not necessarily in the language he uses but the truth that he speaks. If he sees something wrong, he won’t hesitate to pick it out and condemn whoever is involved. If he doesn’t like something, he’ll tell you. He’s a truth-sayer and often the truth tends to be harsh. The words he speaks are coarse, since he hardly ever tries to soften the impact, even if it is directed towards another canine. Some might think he simply doesn’t have an off-switch, doesn’t think before he speaks. In truth, he simply doesn’t care. He holds the bare minimum amount of sympathy for most people so he hardly ever finds a moment where he feels like he should avoid being blunt.

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES:

He has a rather unique pelt, considering his Malinois heritage: a tan body with black fur covering his entire muzzle, dripping down his front and slowly weaving its way through a good portion of his coat. He has medium length fur. He is tall, even for his breed, reaching 26 inches at the shoulder and weighing 60 pounds. He is a relatively lean dog and has an average build amongst his breed. His eyes are a honey gold color.

HISTORY: *

Let me ask you this:

What do you believe in?

Don’t tell me: Love at first sight. Blood’s thicker than water. The earth is round.

Because I don’t care. Delusions are for the sufferer, and see this guy right here? Do I look like a sufferer? No, I thought not.

I’ve had a hard life, but I’m not about to have a beef with you about whose life was harder. You know why? Because no matter what, I’m always going to remember my past and let me tell you: it’s torturous. To live another day knowing that you’re the only one left, is pain in and of itself, not to mention the burden I’ve put on some of my dearest of friends.

Yeah, you heard me right. I’m the only one left. Out of my entire litter, I’m the only one left to stand testament against the wrongs that my family has suffered. A mother who died before she was able to see her pups open their eyes; a father who simply left (he was always distant so his departure was more of a relief than anything else); a sister who didn’t live past a month; a brother who disappeared without warning.

And you think you have problems? Yeah, I was lonely and hurt that every bond I had was cut off, that I had no more shoulders to lean on. Depression was a constant. But when I finally crumbled, brought down to my knees, I was surprised to find a shoulder helping me rise again. That’s when I learned who was truly my friend.

And this is where the sob-story ends. You can stop crying now.

My pup-hood was swift, especially with friends beside me. And when I became an adult (by society’s standards), and my best friend inherited the title of Spartan, I was surprised to find myself offered safety beneath the Spartan flag. I lived beside that friend for what seemed like a long time until he fell prey to a fatal sickness.

That’s how I became a Free Man. With no one holding me back and nothing to reach out for, I was free to wander. Plain and simple. Sure, I miss my friend, but I’ve got to admit, being free is one helluva a sensation. Who doesn’t like being his own man?

Well, since I am free to say whatever I wish, let me tell you this:

Love’s a disease, just like old age. It kills slowly and sometimes painfully.

Blood might be thicker than water, but I’d rather wade through water than blood.

Look down. See that there? It’s flat. What more do you have to ask?

(I hope this is alright. I find history’s extremely redundant so I tend to mix them up a bit and create monologues that portray their personality and still manage to tell their tale.)

SAMPLE POST:

The breeze was all that spoke- whispering among the stalks of grass- waves rippling across the sea of green. To those who could listen to the wind, who could hear the words that it spoke, they found their hearts longing. Longing for the crystal seas, the great fathers of the earth- immense rocks and canyons, towering trees of forests that had no limit and the raging torrents that tore through stone itself, water that raced to the ends of the earth. Such wonderful sights it spoke of. What mind would not wish to wander as the wind did, to not see and hear the things the wind did? Just to let the world become dark and the mind to indulge in the images of the grand. But the ears of many people simply could not understand the wind's beckoning- its only wish to share the vast treasures it had accumulated over the decaying years.

Silence never knew its place. Never did the wind stop its whispering, never did it pause its hushed words. The breeze spoke to anyone who would listen; murmured to any mind that was able to imagine. And so it spoke its words softly to this Phantom, gossiping of far away lands. Softly, it provoked his mind's eye; drawing strings of color and shape in the formation of images so startling that one could not be satisfied with just a tiny morsel.

A shadow against the rustling grass, still and unmoving. He seemed to be listening to something as the wind billowed among the stalks of emerald. He was speaking to the wind, drunk in its soft voice. It spoke to him and only him, betraying the silence of the peaceful day. Sweet as it was, he felt the need to ignore the tantalizing words. He regained his former stature, reluctantly dispersing the mental images graciously provided by the wind. As he did so, he heard the wind sigh; blowing stiffly against his dark fur and then dying to a soft moan.

He crept along the ground, still chill from the night's winnowing, his shadow streaked fur stroking the whispering, emerald fingers as they parted in his path. He felt his heart harden against the wind's pleas. He hadn't stopped his wandering to just listen to the wind's stories. He had to concentrate on the here and now. In truth, he had only stopped his characteristic wanderings due to a certain feline. His life seemed to have suddenly stopped in the heart of Windclan, a pause in his repetitive heartbeat when he saw this spacious land, the very horizon kissing the sun. But what was life to him? Was it the glistening stars in the night? Was it the touch of sunlight against his chill fur? Or was it the slow wilt of the frost bitten grass when winter had finally awaken? Or perhaps it was that something he sought for that could truly be called home. A reason for why he wandered so.

He followed the wind as it billowed at his back, ruffling his fur in a distasteful way. He didn't mind, though. Not at this point. His most important thoughts were held by the scent that was slowly stealing more and more of his attention as he slowly followed its trail. Why did he care? Perhaps it was some loyalty to his clan that told him to investigate this foreign, most definitely feline, scent. But he couldn't lie to himself. What did he care for the workings of his clan? He had only stayed because he fell in love with the landscape and his curiosity was burning a hole in his stomach.