Post by singed on Jun 4, 2015 12:27:21 GMT -7
Name:
Singed
Age:
9
Gender: Male
Breed:
Carrion crow
Eye Color:
garnet
Feather Color:
Semi-Iridescent blue-black, always perfectly preened. There are no markings or patterns.
Physical Build: Singed is rather slim for a crow, being very selective over his foods, although he has a decent amount of
muscle spread evenly across nonetheless. As he seems to have a preference for hopping and climbing over flying, his legs are stronger than average, but his wings have seen better days. In terms of birds he is on the large side although he is light of frame, for as a proud corvid he boasts an impressive wingspan of 40 inches.
Picture: -
Personality: Singed is a rather cheerful fellow, although a very patronizing being who seems to think himself above all others although he is modest and will deny it or appologise quickly should anyone ever call him out on it. Singed is polite to a fault unless he honestly thinks he can get away with being otherwise, and can be quite manipulative at times. He fights fiercely when he cannot dissuade attackers with his words, and is not above preempting an attack if threatened. In secret, he prefers the flesh of birds to other foods, but is very selective, eating only fresh foods of any kind unless avians are on the menu. Singed is more proud than he admits, and although he is quick to forgive little annoyances, in an ongoing conflict he offers no pardon. Singed can be either very helpful or very useless depending on his motivation at any given time, but when he does choose to be helpful he goes overboard with it at times.
History: He'd rather not say.
Lineage: He'd rather not say.
Extra Comments: he has a straight scar on the top of his left wing, although his injuries do not usually scar.
Sample Post: Singed sat on the lowest branch of an elm at a loss for what to do. There was always the option of preening, had he not spent quite enough time doing that minutes earlier. Perhaps he would sit and listen to the rowdy declarations of the songbirds? Boring, and giving the crow a headache at any rate. He could seek out someone to talk to, were he in any mood to listen to the opinions of others at this point, but nevermind that. There was always the option of watching the bugs on the next limb, for although he stood there so obviously in contrast to the light leaves and bark they had yet to scatter.
Singed was normally very good at finding ways to keep himself busy, but at the moment he found himself at a bit of an impasse within his own mind. On one wing, he wished for social interaction. He was not part of any flock nor had he been for many seasons, which could easily help with that. On the other, Singed often found himself simply staying to listen, rarely getting a word in with others leading the conversation, for he was not very quick to talk and had little to say. He didn't really care to hear about some swallow's offspring or some owl's sore throat, but he had nothing to talk about himself although the need to do so, to say something was there.
The carrion crow decided, eventually, on a simple solution. There were plenty of creatures who would not mind the noise nor talk back if one knew where to look. Fluttering to the ground, Singed spied a shiny black beetle, and began cawing quietly, more to himself than to the insect. "Good evening, prey," crowed the corvid, "Care to indicate where you were headed? No? I didn't suppose so."
Singed
Age:
9
Gender: Male
Breed:
Carrion crow
Eye Color:
garnet
Feather Color:
Semi-Iridescent blue-black, always perfectly preened. There are no markings or patterns.
Physical Build: Singed is rather slim for a crow, being very selective over his foods, although he has a decent amount of
muscle spread evenly across nonetheless. As he seems to have a preference for hopping and climbing over flying, his legs are stronger than average, but his wings have seen better days. In terms of birds he is on the large side although he is light of frame, for as a proud corvid he boasts an impressive wingspan of 40 inches.
Picture: -
Personality: Singed is a rather cheerful fellow, although a very patronizing being who seems to think himself above all others although he is modest and will deny it or appologise quickly should anyone ever call him out on it. Singed is polite to a fault unless he honestly thinks he can get away with being otherwise, and can be quite manipulative at times. He fights fiercely when he cannot dissuade attackers with his words, and is not above preempting an attack if threatened. In secret, he prefers the flesh of birds to other foods, but is very selective, eating only fresh foods of any kind unless avians are on the menu. Singed is more proud than he admits, and although he is quick to forgive little annoyances, in an ongoing conflict he offers no pardon. Singed can be either very helpful or very useless depending on his motivation at any given time, but when he does choose to be helpful he goes overboard with it at times.
History: He'd rather not say.
Lineage: He'd rather not say.
Extra Comments: he has a straight scar on the top of his left wing, although his injuries do not usually scar.
Sample Post: Singed sat on the lowest branch of an elm at a loss for what to do. There was always the option of preening, had he not spent quite enough time doing that minutes earlier. Perhaps he would sit and listen to the rowdy declarations of the songbirds? Boring, and giving the crow a headache at any rate. He could seek out someone to talk to, were he in any mood to listen to the opinions of others at this point, but nevermind that. There was always the option of watching the bugs on the next limb, for although he stood there so obviously in contrast to the light leaves and bark they had yet to scatter.
Singed was normally very good at finding ways to keep himself busy, but at the moment he found himself at a bit of an impasse within his own mind. On one wing, he wished for social interaction. He was not part of any flock nor had he been for many seasons, which could easily help with that. On the other, Singed often found himself simply staying to listen, rarely getting a word in with others leading the conversation, for he was not very quick to talk and had little to say. He didn't really care to hear about some swallow's offspring or some owl's sore throat, but he had nothing to talk about himself although the need to do so, to say something was there.
The carrion crow decided, eventually, on a simple solution. There were plenty of creatures who would not mind the noise nor talk back if one knew where to look. Fluttering to the ground, Singed spied a shiny black beetle, and began cawing quietly, more to himself than to the insect. "Good evening, prey," crowed the corvid, "Care to indicate where you were headed? No? I didn't suppose so."
