Random Wailings

[Pronounced You]

Ahh this one is from a bio form for a girl named Aiden. I can't remember the site I was going to put her on.

Personality:

She bears a cold demeanor. Regardless of who is facing her, she is calm and quiet, yet in no way softspoken or gentle. Her words are harsh as the strike of a whip, and her tone more icy than ice itself. To the rest of her Ring, it's her typical attitude to be locked away sometimes or more overly just out of sight. She doesn't talk much, although when she does it's a whirlpool of cruel slurs and harsh acusations. Not often does a kind word escape her lips, and only once during her stay with the Carna has it ever been told of her being gentle. Every singe syllable pronounced teems with its own aura of hate and malignancy, giving each word a whole world of hurt. She can craft her words in a way that will make some of the strongest cringe and wish they had mommy to hold, and an authority-like figure to go crawling to and beg for the figure to punish her.

She finds pleasure in the most darkest and gnarled of places, torturing her prey a fun hobby. Seeing a lesser being squirm and writhe in agony gives her adrenaline and ecstasy, a good laugh and tale for those back in the Ring. She scouts on her lonesome, loathing time and decapitates anyone or anything not supposed to be there. More than often, all that's left if anything is the torso. The body parts are brought back to camp, and strewn about for whoever wants them. Anger isn't high on her infamy scale, although when she does get irritated enough it's a cause good enough to commit suicide. She stops at nothing, destroys anything related to the source of her anger, and since killing innocent animals doesn't bother her, neither does the slaughter of her Ring. She goes manic all the time, diagnosed with bipolar and schitsophrenia and never treated. She has a small case of ADD, given ritalin only once. She's a walking-talking pretty little hate machine, and by the standards of the outside world deserves the isolation cell of all isolation cells and no parole, not even once she's six feet under.

History:

She wasn't born in the Carna. For all she's concerned she appeared out the air itself, and was thrown into the world of the Menagerie when someone reported a king cheetah cub strolling around Times Sqaure, randomly taking the shape of a toddler. She came to the Carna, found by a few hunters and taken to Manic for devouring. When she entered the camp she shook them, stirred them, and turned their world upside down. Proven useful in means of naturally aquired stealth and instincts of hunting and siwftness, she was kept. Her name was unknown -- she was only a toddler. She looked about 4 -- it was only a rough guess. Her parents were never known and no one resembled her and her mania -- who would want to though? She killed without a thought and only the slightest command, but was deemed blatantly useless as a hunter as she ate everything the second she stopped it's over-worked or burnt-out heart. As she grew older her impairments became more and more evident, but it wasn't like anyone would really care.

When she gained teenagerdome she learned to take shit from no one, and didn't give it unless it was earned. She played by the rules and kept her nose free of trouble and did what she was told. Her emotions consisted on angry, uncaring, maniacal, and no emotion at all. Happiness and sadness wasn't even in her vocabulary, although torture and suffering were. She had no problem with men, and although hadn't been courted yet she didn't expect it any time soon. As she blossomed into womanhood, her mania and other little tidbits of problems came into obvious view, as did that she wasn't any ordinary cheetah. She was faster, stronger, and not to mention didn't look the same as the usual African speed demons. As was with her human self, the animal part snarled and was a carbon replicae of her homo sapien skin, only without the uncanny ability to speak.

I don't think I wrote a physical. =P

- - - - - - - - - -

This is about a wolf named Constantine, I think. Meh..

Insanity and torment shredded the man's emotions, as breaths came ragged and painfully. Extreme amounts of affliction gripped his chest, lungs constricting with the excess energy exerted. Vocals expanded for what the man hoped not for the last time as shriek of anguish erupted from his chest, shaving off his life still. Sweat poured from his heaving frame spontaneously, pug-like eyes massive in their sockets as still his thick legs continued to waddle on. Skull swiped back every so few seconds, grief like a weight upon him as still his absurd race for his life continued. The scenes changed rapidly, screaming from the city and into the suburbs, finally the forest covered in mold and decay, smelling like rotting flesh. How terrible it was that the rather fatuous man hadn't known what lie before him.

Agonizing optics followed mellowly with a nonchalant stare, bouncing with the man's fat plodding steps. A frown began to creep upon her features and distort the ivory fur, allowing for fangs drenched in a coppery substance to surface from beneath her twisted jaws. Alluringly she- leaped silently from the highest limbs of the great oak, landing without more than thud 'pon the rugged surface. Zealous eyes flashed from the forest floor up to the path near constantly, her savage muzzle lifting into the air without much exertion as a howl screamed through the night. Silently, she glided forward still, like a phantom ready to strike the blow of death. She was the phantom, this time around.

Slowing marginally, the female approached the crevice of the pillars of rock where Constantine knew her prey to be in hiding. What seemed like a sinister and psychotic grin, it spread upon her face, only blood was replaced by venom. The man trembled as the dire approached closer. Venom dripped from her fangs as she lifted her dial and air and a second malignant howl ripped the skies. Hues tinted a morbid sable hit 'pon the plump figure of the man, and horror struck a chord in his heart. Panic raged his vision... and death took flight upon swift wings, severing his heart. The torture was over. For one victim.

[Sunrise]

So I didn't read the biography, but I did read the little excert with the wolf and I must say it is beautiful. I love the way you use so many descriptive words to your advantage. At first I was a bit confused with what was going on, but it didn't matter because it all made sense and it all fit together perfectly. Wonderful work <3