Administrator
the god of vanity.
gender: Male
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Post by ❥ kenney. on Nov 23, 2014 23:19:23 GMT -5
watch out or he could do this to someone else!
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Administrator
the god of vanity.
gender: Male
status: offline
money:
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Post by ❥ kenney. on Nov 23, 2014 23:19:50 GMT -5
Uggghh. So much converting to do--
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 90px; "><img src="http://i1283.photobucket.com/albums/a543/glass-wire-kite/rassassin_4_zps5c0462a8.jpg" border="0" alt=" photo rassassin_4_zps5c0462a8.jpg"></div><div style="margin: -603px 0px 0px 500px; font-family: verdana; width: 350px; height: 190px; text-align: justify; padding: 30px; background-color: #95b9c7; color: #fff; border: 10px solid #95b9c7; overflow: auto; font-size: 9px; ">He’s a bully, a con-man, and an assassin who plays for keeps. This vapid narcissist takes responsibility and reliability as a game, something that isn’t required. His self-image and ego are something that could throw just about anybody off the bridge of sanity—He constantly comments on how badly others around him act, look, speak – The whole deal. However, if anybody was to comment on him or his ego, he’d play it as if they were speaking of something else, his own greatness. He takes the ultimate amount of pride in his own doings, abilities, and vanity.<br><br>Rassassin is a risk taker who will do anything to get in the sights of the public’s eye—He’d literally kill just to have all eyes on him. However, if he were to commit a heinous act, he’d only profit from the fear and panic he has incited. He’d most likely see it as if the reactions were of a good kind—A cheering him on to do more. In this way, Rassassin would betray the best of friends just to get a bit of face-time with the crowds. He’s a traitor with a nasty ego filled with lies and bartering. Some could say he lives on borrowed-time, time that is not his to toy with. All the things that others whisper about are true and they only fuel his conceitedness.<br><br>The mere thought of going without notice is the bane of Rassassin’s existence. Or, rather, it would be if the thought were ever able to cross his mind. Rassassin understands that, while others may be whispering terrible things about him, he is loved because of it. As long as he is talked about (and that is undoubtedly inevitable), he will think that he is being appreciated for his worth. He’s backwards and twisted, is what could be said for him. Easily one of the most twisted men you’ll meet in your life-time. Besides the fact that he is basically in love with himself, Rassassin would do anything to keep that sense of self-confidence up. If it ever somehow went down, Rassassin would slowly grow insane, with his lust for appreciation.<br><br>Rassassin will weave his intricate lies to get into a high position of worth into everybody else’s heads—and he’ll easily keep track of all of these lies. He is cunningly intelligent, easily slinking his way through life with a wicked smile. He can have pretty much anybody wrapped around his finger within minutes of speaking a first word. His darling ability to speak in a fluent, alluring tone of voice paired with his stunning, ...-cat looks play well in his favor with just about anybody he wishes to charm. Dastardly, are his ways of consuming others’ lives with himself. He will place a good image inside their heads and then stab them in the backs as soon as they turn their heads—a liar, a con-man, an assassin who plays for only keeps is Rassassin. <br><br>Easily others will fall into his web of lies and begin to think of him as a friend, giving him the attention he requires. That is, until the moment the truth shows itself. He will often lock onto one other, giving them his full, undivided attention, and will make them believe in a whole life that is not true. One day he could say he lives on the edge of society, that he is a roaming nomad. But the next he could say he grew up in a small community with a sister and a brother who were killed. His lies will, most likely, be strung together in such a way to gain the sympathy of others—He’ll play into their most protective walls and then, once in, break them down from the inside out.</div><br><div style="border: 1px dotted #95b9c7; width: 300px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 560px; "></div><br><div style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 500px; font-family: verdana; width: 350px; height: 218px; text-align: justify; padding: 30px; background-color: #95b9c7; color: #fff; border: 10px solid #95b9c7; overflow: auto; font-size: 9px; ">He’s a bully, a con-man, and an assassin who plays for keeps. This vapid narcissist takes responsibility and reliability as a game, something that isn’t required. His self-image and ego are something that could throw just about anybody off the bridge of sanity—He constantly comments on how badly others around him act, look, speak – The whole deal. However, if anybody was to comment on him or his ego, he’d play it as if they were speaking of something else, his own greatness. He takes the ultimate amount of pride in his own doings, abilities, and vanity.<br><br>Rassassin is a risk taker who will do anything to get in the sights of the public’s eye—He’d literally kill just to have all eyes on him. However, if he were to commit a heinous act, he’d only profit from the fear and panic he has incited. He’d most likely see it as if the reactions were of a good kind—A cheering him on to do more. In this way, Rassassin would betray the best of friends just to get a bit of face-time with the crowds. He’s a traitor with a nasty ego filled with lies and bartering. Some could say he lives on borrowed-time, time that is not his to toy with. All the things that others whisper about are true and they only fuel his conceitedness.<br><br>The mere thought of going without notice is the bane of Rassassin’s existence. Or, rather, it would be if the thought were ever able to cross his mind. Rassassin understands that, while others may be whispering terrible things about him, he is loved because of it. As long as he is talked about (and that is undoubtedly inevitable), he will think that he is being appreciated for his worth. He’s backwards and twisted, is what could be said for him. Easily one of the most twisted men you’ll meet in your life-time. Besides the fact that he is basically in love with himself, Rassassin would do anything to keep that sense of self-confidence up. If it ever somehow went down, Rassassin would slowly grow insane, with his lust for appreciation.<br><br>Rassassin will weave his intricate lies to get into a high position of worth into everybody else’s heads—and he’ll easily keep track of all of these lies. He is cunningly intelligent, easily slinking his way through life with a wicked smile. He can have pretty much anybody wrapped around his finger within minutes of speaking a first word. His darling ability to speak in a fluent, alluring tone of voice paired with his stunning, ...-cat looks play well in his favor with just about anybody he wishes to charm. Dastardly, are his ways of consuming others’ lives with himself. He will place a good image inside their heads and then stab them in the backs as soon as they turn their heads—a liar, a con-man, an assassin who plays for only keeps is Rassassin. <br><br>Easily others will fall into his web of lies and begin to think of him as a friend, giving him the attention he requires. That is, until the moment the truth shows itself. He will often lock onto one other, giving them his full, undivided attention, and will make them believe in a whole life that is not true. One day he could say he lives on the edge of society, that he is a roaming nomad. But the next he could say he grew up in a small community with a sister and a brother who were killed. His lies will, most likely, be strung together in such a way to gain the sympathy of others—He’ll play into their most protective walls and then, once in, break them down from the inside out.</div>
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Administrator
the god of vanity.
gender: Male
status: offline
money:
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Post by ❥ kenney. on Nov 23, 2014 23:21:33 GMT -5
creative title here. my friends want to know how it came to be that, ooh, this holiday don't mean nothin' to me. [div align="center"][div style="text-align:center;font-family:georgia;font-size:14px;color:white;padding:20px;width:250px;border-bottom-width:10px;border-bottom-style:solid;border-bottom-color:#726E6D;font-style:italic;background-color:#5C5858;"]creative title here.[/div] [div style="font-size:9px;font-family:verdana;color:#000;width:250px;text-align:justify;"]my friends want to know how it came to be that, ooh, this holiday don't mean nothin' to me.[/div][/div]
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Administrator
the god of vanity.
gender: Male
status: offline
money:
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Post by ❥ kenney. on Nov 24, 2014 17:34:47 GMT -5
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Administrator
the god of vanity.
gender: Male
status: offline
money:
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Post by ❥ kenney. on Nov 26, 2014 23:53:16 GMT -5
the real world. The real world ever dwindled around her, the painful feeling that pounded inside her chest ever growing. The pain seemed to pulsate from her chest, like the irregular heart-beat of a dying human. She tried her best to refrain from groaning from the pain that struck her from the side every time she pushed an arm forward and grasped at the flat surface in an attempt to pull herself closer to the exist that only loomed feet away. However hard she would try to move her limb body across the slippery, hard-wood floor, stained with her own sanguine blood, it only moved her an inch or two, if she was lucky. Her desperate attempts towards the door were feeble and downright useless, as she knew if she didn’t hurry he would be back for her again.
She knew he was watching from somewhere—maybe a camera he had stationed on his “killing floor” or even from his seat in the back of the room. However, she didn’t care to look behind her, only focused on the exit in the distance.
The aches and pains grew, the cries of pain ever harder to resist. Every time she moved her arms her face contorted itself into an unintentional cringe. She continued to lose her alertness, her eyes would constantly flutter shut, as if her body was telling her to let go. But she wouldn’t succumb to the desire to be released from the agony—she continued to pull herself forward, no matter how loud the thumping of her own broken heart became within her ears.
With one last tug to her body, she was at the door and her arm was reaching for the knob. She had managed to squeeze it and turn it, scooted forcibly backward from the door’s force. She cried out, being put in agonizing pain from the hard door against her body. No matter how much it hurt, she continued to pull the door open—it seemed heavier than any door she had encountered before, being as weak as she was.
As soon as she pulled it open far enough to pull her body through, something of a taunting voice echoed into the air and the sound of heavy, clunking footsteps alarmed her, “Uh-uh-uh, Sweetie-pie!”
She suddenly became frantic, her breaths becoming shorter and short, her chest heaving against the cold pool of her blood. She let out a shriek as a pair of hands grasped around her ankles and her body was pulled back to its starting position. She was rolled over onto her back and her face examined by the man who pulled her back before he began toward the door, pushing her last hope back shut again. The sun-light that once poured into the room was diminished and she was once again left in the dimly lit room she had been trapped inside.
“So silly of you to continue trying when you already know there is no hope left for you…” he muttered to her, approaching her once more. He took a hand to caress the top of her head, running his fingers through her auburn hair. “I’m actually quite surprised you survived this long, really—the way you were able to pull yourself over to that door was fairly astonishing.”
His voice grew further and further away as she slipped out of consciousness. His blue eyes were focused upon hers. As soon as she began slipping away once more, a hard slap to her cheek brought her back.
“Stay awake! This is my favorite part,” he began, pausing to walk over to a table which a pair of pliers were laid upon. “Now you’ll get to experience the real world, my sweet.” He began to pull her teeth out, one-by-painful-one as she cried and whimpered her last pleads.
words. 600some, @nobody, short notes. [div align="center"][img src="http://i1283.photobucket.com/albums/a543/glass-wire-kite/rassassin_6_zps3e6f6457.jpg" style="max-width:100%;"] [div style="border:25px solid #800517;width:450px;background-color:#800517;color:#fff;font-family:georiga;font-style:italic;font-size:10px;"]the real world.[/div][div style="width:360px;background-color:#9F000F;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;font-size:9px;color:#fff;padding:30px;border-left:10px solid #800517;border-right:10px solid #800517;"]The real world ever dwindled around her, the painful feeling that pounded inside her chest ever growing. The pain seemed to pulsate from her chest, like the irregular heart-beat of a dying human. She tried her best to refrain from groaning from the pain that struck her from the side every time she pushed an arm forward and grasped at the flat surface in an attempt to pull herself closer to the exist that only loomed feet away. However hard she would try to move her limb body across the slippery, hard-wood floor, stained with her own sanguine blood, it only moved her an inch or two, if she was lucky. Her desperate attempts towards the door were feeble and downright useless, as she knew if she didn’t hurry he would be back for her again.
She knew he was watching from somewhere—maybe a camera he had stationed on his “killing floor” or even from his seat in the back of the room. However, she didn’t care to look behind her, only focused on the exit in the distance.
The aches and pains grew, the cries of pain ever harder to resist. Every time she moved her arms her face contorted itself into an unintentional cringe. She continued to lose her alertness, her eyes would constantly flutter shut, as if her body was telling her to let go. But she wouldn’t succumb to the desire to be released from the agony—she continued to pull herself forward, no matter how loud the thumping of her own broken heart became within her ears.
With one last tug to her body, she was at the door and her arm was reaching for the knob. She had managed to squeeze it and turn it, scooted forcibly backward from the door’s force. She cried out, being put in agonizing pain from the hard door against her body. No matter how much it hurt, she continued to pull the door open—it seemed heavier than any door she had encountered before, being as weak as she was.
As soon as she pulled it open far enough to pull her body through, something of a taunting voice echoed into the air and the sound of heavy, clunking footsteps alarmed her, “Uh-uh-uh, Sweetie-pie!”
She suddenly became frantic, her breaths becoming shorter and short, her chest heaving against the cold pool of her blood. She let out a shriek as a pair of hands grasped around her ankles and her body was pulled back to its starting position. She was rolled over onto her back and her face examined by the man who pulled her back before he began toward the door, pushing her last hope back shut again. The sun-light that once poured into the room was diminished and she was once again left in the dimly lit room she had been trapped inside.
“So silly of you to continue trying when you already know there is no hope left for you…” he muttered to her, approaching her once more. He took a hand to caress the top of her head, running his fingers through her auburn hair. “I’m actually quite surprised you survived this long, really—the way you were able to pull yourself over to that door was fairly astonishing.”
His voice grew further and further away as she slipped out of consciousness. His blue eyes were focused upon hers. As soon as she began slipping away once more, a hard slap to her cheek brought her back.
“Stay awake! This is my favorite part,” he began, pausing to walk over to a table which a pair of pliers were laid upon. “Now you’ll get to experience the real world, my sweet.” He began to pull her teeth out, one-by-painful-one as she cried and whimpered her last pleads. [/div][div style="border:25px solid #800517;width:450px;background-color:#800517;color:#fff;font-size:8px;font-family:verdana;"]words. 600some, @nobody, short notes.[/div][/div]
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welcome
Welcome to Wolf's Web. We are a brand new realistic wolf roleplaying site that accepts any level of literacy! We're very friendly, and are constantly active around the site. Join the community today!
updates
12.4.2014
wolf's web has offically opened for joining! hopefully, soon role-play will be started! we wish our members a happy holiday!
credits
Wolf's Web was created by okami-hime and wallflowerᴛ . Content is copyrighted to Wolf's Web unless otherwise stated. The skin is created by Wolf of Gangnam Style. The board and thread remodel is by Kagney and has been heavily edited.
Banner Image Credit.
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