Post by The Gun-Born Wolf on Aug 11, 2008 0:36:55 GMT -5
Name:Jericho, Canor Ab Arma [translates to The Song of Weapons, Son of Guns]
Age: 21
Gender:Male
Job Wanted:Weapon Salesman, bounty hunter
Now: Drifter
(If previous is N/A) Other Position wanted: Bodygaurd, Undertaker, Priest XD
Description(Prefered a detailed description): You see a very tall canine, about 6 feet and 9 inches tall with a very muscular form. From head to ankles is a black, heavy, leather hide coat. He also wears brown woolen pants underneath. On his face, he wears a black bandana to obscure his muzzle, only his cold glacier ice eyes poke through the black visage He carries a big 7 foot wooden crucifix which has a small assortment of weapons in it. On his belt is a big skinning knife and a large Schofield Revolver. On his feet are worn brown but very common boots, usually caked with mud. He also wears some brown burlap half finger gloves. The only real things pointing out from this character is a black fist tattoo on his neck. His fur is tan and black, his voice is rough. Sometimes he calls himself Jericho.
New Desc: A 7 foot 3 wolf, riding on and on. This shadow donned a cowboy hat with one bloody crow's feather and a few old cartridges strapped around the hat. Leather chaps and black leather boots with spurs were also worn, yet a large broan overcoat masked the simple black buttoned shirt he had underneath, the sleaves rolled up. Bandolier belt around his waist while he donned two dark leather holster on both of his hips, carrying two Smith Wesson Schofields, a coiled whip keeping his right holster company. Another bandolier belt was worn from shoulder to hip and around his back. Slash marks were carred on both of his cheeks while the symbol of Christ was burned into his face, right under his right eye and a black hand tattoo on his neck. Cold glacier eyes poked out of long jet black hair as he trudged on his road to hell. But, hey, the road to hell was paved with good intentions
Example of RP(Preferably a RP log from previous RPs, otherwise make it up.): Jericho flips a small silver coin up in the air with his left bandaged paw and catches it with his right paw before it even drops to the left one. He sighs and looks around the shitty saloon he was in. Dead, yet loud. The girls trying to find men, hustling them of their money with their quiet large breats and their curvy figures, Jericho was attempted to talk to one. But, he just sighed and finished his whiskey quietly, only drinking under the bandana. He looked around again to find that the Sheriff, cocky as he can be, stumbles inside the saloon, waving his gun around like it was just a toy. Though it might be just a way to acquire quick respect around the saloon, it deeply angered the son of guns. Whether or not the Sheriff had the authority around here. Coughing, he would obey the drunk sheriff since he wanted a duel. And yet again, there he was. About 30 yards away from the sheriff, square to him. Jericho didn't mind the Sheriff being ready but still, he flipped the silver coin in the air a couple of times. Until the bell tower hit right next to the twelve which Jericho drew his S&W from the holster and fire at the sheriff which if it did hit the bullet would catch the wind and hit the sheriff, right into the silver badge, knocking him on his ass, kicking the wind right out of him.
Age: 21
Gender:Male
Job Wanted:Weapon Salesman, bounty hunter
Now: Drifter
(If previous is N/A) Other Position wanted: Bodygaurd, Undertaker, Priest XD
Description(Prefered a detailed description): You see a very tall canine, about 6 feet and 9 inches tall with a very muscular form. From head to ankles is a black, heavy, leather hide coat. He also wears brown woolen pants underneath. On his face, he wears a black bandana to obscure his muzzle, only his cold glacier ice eyes poke through the black visage He carries a big 7 foot wooden crucifix which has a small assortment of weapons in it. On his belt is a big skinning knife and a large Schofield Revolver. On his feet are worn brown but very common boots, usually caked with mud. He also wears some brown burlap half finger gloves. The only real things pointing out from this character is a black fist tattoo on his neck. His fur is tan and black, his voice is rough. Sometimes he calls himself Jericho.
New Desc: A 7 foot 3 wolf, riding on and on. This shadow donned a cowboy hat with one bloody crow's feather and a few old cartridges strapped around the hat. Leather chaps and black leather boots with spurs were also worn, yet a large broan overcoat masked the simple black buttoned shirt he had underneath, the sleaves rolled up. Bandolier belt around his waist while he donned two dark leather holster on both of his hips, carrying two Smith Wesson Schofields, a coiled whip keeping his right holster company. Another bandolier belt was worn from shoulder to hip and around his back. Slash marks were carred on both of his cheeks while the symbol of Christ was burned into his face, right under his right eye and a black hand tattoo on his neck. Cold glacier eyes poked out of long jet black hair as he trudged on his road to hell. But, hey, the road to hell was paved with good intentions
Example of RP(Preferably a RP log from previous RPs, otherwise make it up.): Jericho flips a small silver coin up in the air with his left bandaged paw and catches it with his right paw before it even drops to the left one. He sighs and looks around the shitty saloon he was in. Dead, yet loud. The girls trying to find men, hustling them of their money with their quiet large breats and their curvy figures, Jericho was attempted to talk to one. But, he just sighed and finished his whiskey quietly, only drinking under the bandana. He looked around again to find that the Sheriff, cocky as he can be, stumbles inside the saloon, waving his gun around like it was just a toy. Though it might be just a way to acquire quick respect around the saloon, it deeply angered the son of guns. Whether or not the Sheriff had the authority around here. Coughing, he would obey the drunk sheriff since he wanted a duel. And yet again, there he was. About 30 yards away from the sheriff, square to him. Jericho didn't mind the Sheriff being ready but still, he flipped the silver coin in the air a couple of times. Until the bell tower hit right next to the twelve which Jericho drew his S&W from the holster and fire at the sheriff which if it did hit the bullet would catch the wind and hit the sheriff, right into the silver badge, knocking him on his ass, kicking the wind right out of him.
Feed Me!
