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Description
top secret hush hush

you saw nothing maverick does not exist aS FAR AS YOU KNOW

STOP LOOKIN G

Name Maverick
Nicknames ...
Age Twenty-two
Gender Male
Genus Lycaon
Species African Wild Dog

Rank Entertainer
Power Denomination Telekinesis
Status Active
Level Advanced

Personality
Outwardly;

[ +Determined/-Stubborn | +Imaginative | +Independent | =Straightforward | =Sarcastic | -Truculent | -Impolite | -Aloof/-Distant ]

Inwardly; Towards select people;

[ +Thoughtful | +Witty | +Protective | =Flirtatious | -Unadaptable | -Impatient | -Sensitive ]

Likes;
-Food
-Food
-Food
-Food
-Baggy clothes
-Small dark places
-Food
-Writing
-Mystery novels
-Naps
-Food
-Disrespecting authority because that's p cool

Dislikes;
-Crowds
-Social situations
-Having nothing to eat
-Most things because he’s a badboy and badboys are cool and distant and don’t like anything
Trivia
Strengths; Parkour, brute strength, independent activities
Weaknesses; Group activities, strategy
Voice; Orotund, gravely when speaking low, monotonous at times
Dreams; Usually made-up scenarios, everyday activities

Statistics
Accuracy
Low||High

Strength
Low||High

Speed
Low||High

Agility
Low||High

Endurance
Low||High

Tactical
Low||High [Impulsive]

Balance
Low||High

Memory
Low||High

Stealth
Low||High

Leadership
Low||High

Appearance
[ | Body // Structure, fur, coloration | Head // Structure, eyes, muzzle, nose, ears ]

Body;
Structure; Tall, thin, lightly muscled
Fur; Dry and thick, rough and almost always tangled
Coloration; Piebald, patches and spots, chocolate point on muzzle

Head;
Structure; Angular
Eyes; Heterochromia/ Left: Blue, Right: Amber
In anatomy, heterochromia is a difference in coloration, usually of the iris but also of hair or skin. Heterochromia is a result of the relative excess or lack of melanin (a pigment). It may be inherited, or caused by genetic mosaicism(in Mav's case), chimerism, disease, or injury.
Muzzle; Narrow, sharply pointed, goatee
Nose; Dark, pointed
Ears; Tall, rounded, on sides of head

Backstory [ Introduction | RP History: Something interesting ]
Introduction;

I’m not too big into this whole ”backstory” thing.
Why should I tell you? God, I feel like I’m in therapy.

Since you’re just dying to know, I had a pretty uneventful childhood.

What, that wasn't enough?

Ugh.
Well, I grew up without my mother.
Oh, don’t look at me like that. She left when I was real young, I barely remember what she looked like. Okay, maybe I do remember what she looked like. I look more like her than Dad, actually.
I don’t think my dad was ready to raise me. He was, in all honesty, inexperienced...impulsive--I was his first child. He often reacted badly and because of that I wandered away from home just as frequently. I spent most of my time racing my friends to street corners--their names I can no longer recall. Though I do remember them teasing me about my ears. Jerks.

Can we be done now?
Fine.
Well, y'know, I had always wanted to be a telekinetic. I was so lucky to get this power.
I guess, in some ways, I liked using my tele powers because I could have control. I could do what I wanted to do. It felt good.

I work as an entertainer, now. It's not the most thrilling job, but at least I'm not a dumb mech, heh!
Maybe talking about this wasn't so bad.
It makes my realize that I actually have to do something interesting before I die.

RP History: Something Interesting Before Mav Dies;

...To be added!

Roleplay Example
Short example; from %The-Golden-Butterfly
[ Blue-Green Water / Skylr / Pheasant's Wood ] Skylr hated the cold. He absolutely hated it. Feeling the chill on his back put him in a foul mood...but really, when wasn't he in a foul mood nowadays? Even with his best efforts, even when he concentrated long and hard, he had trouble remembering a time when things weren't so difficult. During times like these, cats looked to their leaders. Their strong, trusted, reliable leaders. Silver tattoos were like beacons of hope. But when a tribe's leader changes so...so abruptly, without warning...Skylr had to admit to himself that the feeling of security vanishes along with them.
The tom sighed. With so many tasks to ensure the tribes' safety, here was hardly time to stop and rest his paws. Oh, and he definitely wasn't the only one feeling so conflicted, he knew that for a fact. Shaking off his thickening pelt, he turned, sinking his claws into an oak tree's softly engraved bark and raking them down its side. His agitation was palpable.

Long example; from %City-Of-Sundown
The student could barely make out the scene in front of her. There was...was it a pathway? Yes, dirt pathway. It wound itself around in intricate patterns and faded out behind dead trees. Trees that were etched against the blank, stripped sky. After a few moments she realized she was walking.
Her paws hurt.
How long had she been on this path? She couldn’t remember; she couldn’t remember anything.
Snap!
Wynter flinched. Had something moved behind that tree? Or maybe it had been the one to her left. Her vision swam. Her thoughts were nothing but primordial.
A snippet of fur. She felt eyes sear into her fur. The air was filled with something so familiar, yet she couldn’t remember...a name. The figure made himself visible. Gray fur. Evergreen eyes. Something tugged in the back of Wynter’s mind. A friend. A foe? A friend. Gage. He looked concerned. He opened his mouth to speak though his voice reached Wynter’s ears as a jumble of sharp sounds.
Her legs could no longer support her. When had the air gotten so thick? The student really couldn’t remember having to breath so hard before. She couldn’t keep up with the air. Maybe it was that the air couldn’t keep up with her lungs. Wouldn’t it be easier if everything just...stopped.
The air caught in her chest. Gage’s eyes widened in fear and, painfully, he tore his gaze from Wynter and was forced to run.
Wynter was...scared? No, no she didn’t feel...feel scared. She didn’t feel. She wasn’t really there anymore, was she? Her mind and thoughts became questions. What’s going on? Who is doing this? Why? Why? Consciousness was fading, fading fast...
This was the infection.
...
The first sound hit her ears, a scream, and she jolted awake to her paws. She could hear her heart thunder in her ears.
“What the hell was that?” Wynter lazily got to her feet, fatigue clouding her vision and her mind still in a dream. What did it take to get a decent nap around here? She needed rest from the incident with Lara yesterday. She knew the infected were crazy, but she had never expected to see that behavior from a healthy cat. What went on in that she-cat’s mind? Wynter didn’t even want to know.
The tortie stretched her long, skinny limbs and proceeded to investigate where the strange shriek had originated. It was so hard to track anything in the dead city--there were so many tall, crumbling buildings, corners and alleyways, sound scurried across the walls like frightened prey. Then she saw them--A group of gang cats that seemed to be engaged in a physical fight. But, as Wynter scented the air, she caught something familiar, something too familiar, something dark. Upon closer inspection, realization hit Wynter like an expert predator’s aim. It was that crazy she-cat from yesterday. It seems the cat had lost her grip on reality once more--Wynter couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. The poor cat couldn't help it...but this madness needed to stop.
Acting on pure instinct, Wynter leaped down from the low, flat roof she had been perched on and onto a trashcan. The can wobbled for a moment and the student thought it was going to crash and give away her position--but thankfully it evened out just in time. "Damn it, that was close." She sighed under her breath. She recovered herself, leaping to the ground and finding various things to climb on until she was on a windowsill just above the still screeching cats.
Wynter held her breath. Did she really want to do this? Did she really want to risk it? The demon in cat's skin was out for blood, who said she even had a chance to defend herself let alone Lara’s victims? It was time to put on a brave face. The she-cat dropped down onto the pavement behind Lara and crouched down, puffing out her fur, widening her eyes and pulling her lips back in a snarl to reveal needle like teeth. "Step away, Ms. Prickly-Ass." She growled.
She knew she was getting herself into a whole lot of trouble.

Description
top secret hush hush

you saw nothing maverick does not exist aS FAR AS YOU KNOW

STOP LOOKIN G

Name Maverick
Nicknames ...
Age Twenty-two
Gender Male
Genus Lycaon
Species African Wild Dog

Rank Entertainer
Power Denomination Telekinesis
Status Active
Level Advanced

Personality
Outwardly;

[ +Determined/-Stubborn | +Imaginative | +Independent | =Straightforward | =Sarcastic | -Truculent | -Impolite | -Aloof/-Distant ]

Inwardly; Towards select people;

[ +Thoughtful | +Witty | +Protective | =Flirtatious | -Unadaptable | -Impatient | -Sensitive ]

Likes;
-Food
-Food
-Food
-Food
-Baggy clothes
-Small dark places
-Food
-Writing
-Mystery novels
-Naps
-Food
-Disrespecting authority because that's p cool

Dislikes;
-Crowds
-Social situations
-Having nothing to eat
-Most things because he’s a badboy and badboys are cool and distant and don’t like anything
Trivia
Strengths; Parkour, brute strength, independent activities
Weaknesses; Group activities, strategy
Voice; Orotund, gravely when speaking low, monotonous at times
Dreams; Usually made-up scenarios, everyday activities

Statistics
Accuracy
Low||High

Strength
Low||High

Speed
Low||High

Agility
Low||High

Endurance
Low||High

Tactical
Low||High [Impulsive]

Balance
Low||High

Memory
Low||High

Stealth
Low||High

Leadership
Low||High

Appearance
[ | Body // Structure, fur, coloration | Head // Structure, eyes, muzzle, nose, ears ]

Body;
Structure; Tall, thin, lightly muscled
Fur; Dry and thick, rough and almost always tangled
Coloration; Piebald, patches and spots, chocolate point on muzzle

Head;
Structure; Angular
Eyes; Heterochromia/ Left: Blue, Right: Amber
In anatomy, heterochromia is a difference in coloration, usually of the iris but also of hair or skin. Heterochromia is a result of the relative excess or lack of melanin (a pigment). It may be inherited, or caused by genetic mosaicism(in Mav's case), chimerism, disease, or injury.
Muzzle; Narrow, sharply pointed, goatee
Nose; Dark, pointed
Ears; Tall, rounded, on sides of head

Backstory [ Introduction | RP History: Something interesting ]
Introduction;

I’m not too big into this whole ”backstory” thing.
Why should I tell you? God, I feel like I’m in therapy.

Since you’re just dying to know, I had a pretty uneventful childhood.

What, that wasn't enough?

Ugh.
Well, I grew up without my mother.
Oh, don’t look at me like that. She left when I was real young, I barely remember what she looked like. Okay, maybe I do remember what she looked like. I look more like her than Dad, actually.
I don’t think my dad was ready to raise me. He was, in all honesty, inexperienced...impulsive--I was his first child. He often reacted badly and because of that I wandered away from home just as frequently. I spent most of my time racing my friends to street corners--their names I can no longer recall. Though I do remember them teasing me about my ears. Jerks.

Can we be done now?
Fine.
Well, y'know, I had always wanted to be a telekinetic. I was so lucky to get this power.
I guess, in some ways, I liked using my tele powers because I could have control. I could do what I wanted to do. It felt good.

I work as an entertainer, now. It's not the most thrilling job, but at least I'm not a dumb mech, heh!
Maybe talking about this wasn't so bad.
It makes my realize that I actually have to do something interesting before I die.

RP History: Something Interesting Before Mav Dies;

...To be added!

Roleplay Example
Short example; from %The-Golden-Butterfly
[ Blue-Green Water / Skylr / Pheasant's Wood ] Skylr hated the cold. He absolutely hated it. Feeling the chill on his back put him in a foul mood...but really, when wasn't he in a foul mood nowadays? Even with his best efforts, even when he concentrated long and hard, he had trouble remembering a time when things weren't so difficult. During times like these, cats looked to their leaders. Their strong, trusted, reliable leaders. Silver tattoos were like beacons of hope. But when a tribe's leader changes so...so abruptly, without warning...Skylr had to admit to himself that the feeling of security vanishes along with them.
The tom sighed. With so many tasks to ensure the tribes' safety, here was hardly time to stop and rest his paws. Oh, and he definitely wasn't the only one feeling so conflicted, he knew that for a fact. Shaking off his thickening pelt, he turned, sinking his claws into an oak tree's softly engraved bark and raking them down its side. His agitation was palpable.

Long example; from %City-Of-Sundown
The student could barely make out the scene in front of her. There was...was it a pathway? Yes, dirt pathway. It wound itself around in intricate patterns and faded out behind dead trees. Trees that were etched against the blank, stripped sky. After a few moments she realized she was walking.
Her paws hurt.
How long had she been on this path? She couldn’t remember; she couldn’t remember anything.
Snap!
Wynter flinched. Had something moved behind that tree? Or maybe it had been the one to her left. Her vision swam. Her thoughts were nothing but primordial.
A snippet of fur. She felt eyes sear into her fur. The air was filled with something so familiar, yet she couldn’t remember...a name. The figure made himself visible. Gray fur. Evergreen eyes. Something tugged in the back of Wynter’s mind. A friend. A foe? A friend. Gage. He looked concerned. He opened his mouth to speak though his voice reached Wynter’s ears as a jumble of sharp sounds.
Her legs could no longer support her. When had the air gotten so thick? The student really couldn’t remember having to breath so hard before. She couldn’t keep up with the air. Maybe it was that the air couldn’t keep up with her lungs. Wouldn’t it be easier if everything just...stopped.
The air caught in her chest. Gage’s eyes widened in fear and, painfully, he tore his gaze from Wynter and was forced to run.
Wynter was...scared? No, no she didn’t feel...feel scared. She didn’t feel. She wasn’t really there anymore, was she? Her mind and thoughts became questions. What’s going on? Who is doing this? Why? Why? Consciousness was fading, fading fast...
This was the infection.
...
The first sound hit her ears, a scream, and she jolted awake to her paws. She could hear her heart thunder in her ears.
“What the hell was that?” Wynter lazily got to her feet, fatigue clouding her vision and her mind still in a dream. What did it take to get a decent nap around here? She needed rest from the incident with Lara yesterday. She knew the infected were crazy, but she had never expected to see that behavior from a healthy cat. What went on in that she-cat’s mind? Wynter didn’t even want to know.
The tortie stretched her long, skinny limbs and proceeded to investigate where the strange shriek had originated. It was so hard to track anything in the dead city--there were so many tall, crumbling buildings, corners and alleyways, sound scurried across the walls like frightened prey. Then she saw them--A group of gang cats that seemed to be engaged in a physical fight. But, as Wynter scented the air, she caught something familiar, something too familiar, something dark. Upon closer inspection, realization hit Wynter like an expert predator’s aim. It was that crazy she-cat from yesterday. It seems the cat had lost her grip on reality once more--Wynter couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. The poor cat couldn't help it...but this madness needed to stop.
Acting on pure instinct, Wynter leaped down from the low, flat roof she had been perched on and onto a trashcan. The can wobbled for a moment and the student thought it was going to crash and give away her position--but thankfully it evened out just in time. "Damn it, that was close." She sighed under her breath. She recovered herself, leaping to the ground and finding various things to climb on until she was on a windowsill just above the still screeching cats.
Wynter held her breath. Did she really want to do this? Did she really want to risk it? The demon in cat's skin was out for blood, who said she even had a chance to defend herself let alone Lara’s victims? It was time to put on a brave face. The she-cat dropped down onto the pavement behind Lara and crouched down, puffing out her fur, widening her eyes and pulling her lips back in a snarl to reveal needle like teeth. "Step away, Ms. Prickly-Ass." She growled.
She knew she was getting herself into a whole lot of trouble.