VENOM-EYED & SPITEFUL [introduction]

[WOLFSBANE,]

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Two spectacles like sickly honey peered out behind a threatening mask of darkened warpaint that lay smeared upon her stoic features. Almond shaped luminaries allowing the golden-haired goddess a venomously feminine look as her angled features and sharpened anatomy tilted to focus upon the darkened path before her vessel. Twisted oaks and rotten undergrowth spewing with layers of sickly green moss in a sea of lush greenery. It enveloped the earth in a cocoon as nature had seemingly taken back what was once hers. The cocoa butter vocals of birds squawking hummed like a veil in the air, the rustle and snapping of frozen leaves subtle but present as Romanova's jagged knife remained clutched between one hardened hand, the other tightly grasping at the leathered reins between her delicate fingers. The horse's thickened being maneuvering through the undergrowth like a vessel of strength as the pair flew through the scene. Muscles like silk rippling with horrific power under a blackened pelt. The creature's wild tail rustling behind in the wind with a sense of chaos.

The huntress's alluring frame lay in strength upon the stallion's skeleton, lean muscles quivering as the prey before her leaped with elegance. A factor the warrior usually bestowed as she propelled her weapon behind her cranium and in the blink of an eye, the savagery was released from her palm to fly through the frigid air. Sharpened blade silhoutetting upon the fragile light that shimmered with delicacy and beauty. Ironic, a weapon resembling an item of beauty. Pulling back on the warn reigns, Romanova's horse scraped at the moist soil before sliding to a sharpened stop, massive hooves thundering into the earth, heavy breath heaving with vaporized smoke as a thud was heard in the distance as the deer dropped to the ground. It's limp frame untouched as the last breath was drawn from the mammal's muzzle before all was silent. The birds' once cheerful vocalized songs void of existence.

A ragged breath was drawn as she slipped off the creature's stoney frame, heavy boots thudding within the muddy soil as she slithered forward to draw the knife from the deer's vessel. Making it quick, the militant lugged the mammal over her horse's hindquarters. Ignoring the blood that quickly stained her pelts. Tying it down with ease, Romanova heaved her weight over the wolf fur that enveloped the thoroughbred's mid width to work as a saddle. With a kick of her heels she managed to spin the stallion about and returned to the city.

A heavy breath was drawn from her plush lips and thrown into a spiraling vaporized puff within the frigid atmosphere. Velveteen locks messy as it was tossed about from previous galloping, a smirk like nectar coating her features. The sound of sharpened hooves upon crippled pavement rippling from damaged walls. A bloody knife clutched in one hand as she quickly shoved it within the gun holsters upon her thighs as the fem lacked such advanced weaponry. Mainly because guns were of scarcity, and besides, she rather enjoyed the savagery a few knives and a ragged machete brought to a fight.
[color=#AF6332][spoiler=tags 1/26]
[color=#AF6332]GENERAL — manipulative
Romanova | “Ro” | Salt Queen
She / her | Female | Bisexual | Grunt
21 | January 26th | ENTJ  “The Commander”
[color=#AF6332]INFORMATION — blunt
Manipulates with ease
Kills without regret nor mercy
Carries a machete & multiple knives
Inspired by "The 100"
APPEARANCE — sarcastic
Romanova, a huntress of many talents enveloped within the art of battle as the militant finds war a rather interesting prospect, mainly because she excels as the art of battle and defense and enjoys the calculation that it carries. The grunt is known for her calculation after all, as her analyzation and quick thinking allows for graceful manipulation and finds ease in lying. With a cold heart and ruthless stare, the young adult considers herself rather merciless, however, she can find fairness in the slightest of situations. Despite her harsh exterior and sharp-tongue, Romanova is actually quite kind. Amusement seeping into her dappend soul like sweet cocoa butter and sarcasm enveloping her tongue with nectar- it isn’t too hard to make friends. However, with intimidation, she tends to draw them away, because she does in fact, bite.
PERSONALITY — cold
The female is of Russian and Brazilian decent, allowing for her tanned skin to radiate like the warmth of summer sunshine, her lips plump and her as soft as webbed silk. However, don’t be fooled, she is no ray of sunshine. Romanova’s thick dirty blonde hair cascades down the small of her back, usually held in a rather messy manner. With lightened hair and dark brows framing her features, it allows Roman’s silver blue spectacles to come of brilliance from her feminine almond-eyed stare. Faint freckles outlining the apples of her cheeks and cross bridge of her nose coccoon her skin. Long legs pedestooling the warrior at a height of 5’6 allow for a lean body and defined muscles to make of note. The goddess is usually found wearing darker colors. Tight black pants worn with gun straps about both thighs allow for maneuverability as a wolf pelt drapes over the side of one shoulder for warmth. A black parka worn just about all the time clings to her scarred skin paired with dark leather boots. Warn leather armor clings to her shoulders and chest just as darkened war paint is smeered along her eyes and cheek bones.
RELATIONSHIPS — direct
SINGLE | [ 0 ] crushes
Npc x npc
CONFRONTATION — humble
Extremely hard physically | Medium hard
Can power play peaceful or nonviolent actions
Message for plots
Attack in bold #AF6332

[Sel]

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sel

Part of Sel's education had been appraisal - determining how much worth something had and figuring out the best barter of goods, items and animals alike. But it wasn't just goods she'd learned to assess, but the people trading them too. Determine how much they wanted something, how much they'd be willing to part with, and more. Strength, intelligence, health, a million little things she had learned to read, and she wouldn't pretend like she wasn't grateful for her observation skills and ability to read people - in a place like this, not knowing where you stood with the wrong person would inevitably be deadly.

It also allowed her to appreciate the power Romanova packed and the savagery of the weapons she carried. Then there was the horse - f**k, when Sel saw that her first instinct was to ask how much it would cost. If she had a horse she'd be able to visit her family more, but if she had a horse there wasn't s**t that she'd sell it for.

"Have a good hunt?" Sel asked, smiling as she strolled over to Romanova, hands on her hips.
I don't know where I got the inspiration for the first paragraph and I fear this is a crappy post compared to that majesty rip

[spoiler=Tags - Updated 1/25/17]General:
▪ Selena Felix | Sel or Lena depending on situation
▪ Biological female | Identifies as female | She/Her
▪ 23 years | Birthday is 12/18 | Real Time Aging
▪ Grunt of the Badlands

Relationships:
▪ Biromantic | Bisexual | Poly
▪ Single | Flirty
▪ NPC x NPC | No adopted kin
▪ Generally very friendly but not easy to become close with; flirty and defiant; loyalty is hard-earned and easily betrayed

Important Facts:
▪ Trained medic but prefers the war and/or social branches.
▪ Usually untrustworthy, everything is calculated, ambitious as f**k, nefarious motivations.
▪ Opinions, motivations and ambition are Sel's and Sel's alone and are not shared by her roleplayer.

Physical:
★ HUMAN | health: 100%
— She's small, but not too small, about 5'4" or so. Slender and always moving, pretty blue-green eyes with a mischievous glint in them and you know she's gonna get you into trouble. Dark hair, no doubt dark thoughts as well. Red lips curve into a lazy grin that reveals white teeth - they won't stay pearly for much longer, though, as she's often seen smoking.
— major injuries: none
— minor injuries: none

Personality:
— Sel is a very bold, competitive and stubborn person, with a wild side that is shown frequently as well as flirtatious tendencies. She is easily bored and is always on the lookout for adventure, with a spark of curiosity that she hopes will lead to what she seeks: adventure and romance. She seems to not be a very serious person and would rather have fun than be productive, and failing entertainment she can be quite productive and get quite a bit done. She's loud and lacks discipline. While Sel is irresponsible (and oddly bossy) and wild, she is very family-oriented and loves her family dearly. She is usually a cheerful, friendly person but she definitely has a passion for the weird, dark and creepy. She is somewhat vain and egotistical. She has her secrets and one of them is her intelligence and ability to collect information; most dismiss her as a dumb party girl (or something like that) and that's part of her cover, she has her fair share of sins and has to have a way of hiding them, and because she is a good liar and good actress, she succeeds.
— curious; friendly; bold; friendly; intelligent; brave; stubborn; competitive; flirty; sly and cunning; ambitious; wild; irresponsible; bossy; vain; arrogant/egotistical; cruel/sadistic; dark; deceptive

Interaction:
▪ Trained with knives and poisons | Medium physically | Hard mentally
▪ No kill/capture/maim without permission | Will kill/capture/maim with permission
▪ Prefers to fight with poisoned daggers | Relies largely on speed and agility
▪ To attack, [member=183]Sel[/member] and attack in underlined #440349

Links:
— Bio v.1
— Wip[/spoiler]

[TATIANA]

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k

TATIANA DOGSWORTH [abbr=17 years old, cis female, badlands member, savage, salty, harsh, mean, open, fearless, she's a person, bisexual and biromantic]✨[/abbr]
I can do it like a brother
Do it like a dude
Grab my crotch,
wear my hat low like you

Green optics scanning the area around her, she had walked around for a bit thinking of things to do.  She had gone for a little hunt earlier and managed to kill a few jack rabbits, not much for the whole group, more like enough for her to just eat.  Then again she caught them in her little traps she had established, more thankful that someone didn't just steal them, but then again the rabbits didn't die from the traps right away as she found them before they died.  Snapping the next in order to kill them quickly, before taking them back to her room.  Her room of mystery, with the lovely sign of 'KEEP OUT' on it, with it's confusing lock system that she had broken into in order to inhabitant currently.  But not the seventeen year old ran out of ideas after all she wasn't in the mood to go out and scavenge around, or raid others currently.  Sure she could but why do it when it's not necessary at that current second in time.

But from her observing of her surroundings as she walked with baseball bat in hand she noticed the horse, wow, how amazing, not.  Sure horses are a rarity, good sense of travel, but for Tatiana to care too much would mean that she was amazed by this person, and she didn't have much a reason too.  She knew many who could hunt a deer down so currently the only thing that gave the seventeen year old amusement was the fact that the horse hasn't one, starved to death yet, two, been stolen, and three that the horse wasn't cut up into some nice little slabs of meat. 

The sight of Sel caught her attention, the chick was interesting to watch as she approached Romanova.  The girl seemed more interested about the horse then the actual girl, but that was to be some what expected right.  Sighing the girl took out a cigarette from her almost empty pack, taking a match and a rock to light the match, to then light the cigarette.  A smirk resided on her lips as she inhaled the cancerous fumes, blowing the smoke out of her mouth in a gentle stream.  She was an addict for sure, and it was supported either, it was expensive, not only that but very, very hard to come-by.  But Tatiana had stocked up a long, long time ago, and oh if anyone stole just one she'd slaughter them in a matter of seconds.

Inhaling more to then exhale the petite girl walked over, she supposed that couldn't hurt after all.  "What's going on."  Her thick Russian accent so obvious in her speech as she looked at Sel to then Romanova.

GENERAL
✨ Tatiana Dogsworth | Tat | Cis Female (she/her)
✨ Scorpio / 17 years old / ages in real life time
✨ Badlands
✨ Grunts
✨ Spotify playlist ✨

NOTES
✨ Born in what would be Russia, her father was a mobster in what would be Russia, had moved too the Badlands area, her mother left several years ago and left her in the hands of some members of the group, what a terrific idea right.
✨ She is a sort of baddie, grunge, little rebellious teenager, she is one with beating people up, pure in her appearance though, frequently ignoring people.
✨ She has a thick Russian accent, that is slightly rough, dominating, but very interesting to listen too
✨ Smells of a cigarette smoke.

PHYSICAL
✨ Petite, 5' tall, pale, and a smol teenager.
✨ Chloe Mortez Grace
✨ Injuries: scratches and bruises
✨ Aliments: 80%

PERSONA
✨ ESTP | The Rebellious Teen | The Fighter | Chaotic Good
✨ Loyal, salty, fighter, strong, stubborn, and defensive
✨ Cocky, tricky, will fight you I fucking swear, hot headed

RELATIONSHIPS
NPC X NPC
✨ Bisexual and Binromantic
✨ Single
✨ Friends:
✨ Crushes:
✨ Enemies:

INTERACTION

✨ dirty fighter, strong, and hard to beat
✨ address in BOLD
✨ attack in #640000
✨ can powerplay nonviolent or peaceful gestures 

[GUNSLINGER.]

//tracking for later!!

[Darky]

John didn't much like horses; too big and dangerous to be worth the trouble. They'd get spooked at the smallest thing and drew too much attention from other people. And then there was the fact that they needed to be fed and sheltered in a secure area.. It was just too much trouble to be worth it.

Honestly, it would've been better to chop it up in his opinion, but if this golden weirdo wanted to run around on a beast that'd stomp them to death if they accidentally spooked it then that was none of his business.

However, his traps were in that direction and he needed to go check them before someone stole from them. It was tiring setting up multiple traps just for a few rodents; one for the prey itself, one for anybody stupid enough to try to steal from it, and one for any predators stupid enough to try to take advantage of the stranded human.

He walked up and quietly glided towards Sel, not trusting Tatiana enough to get close; which was strange considering he was much older then her. Still, she liked to run around armed and probably wouldn't mind bludgeoning him to death.

He stayed silent for now, not really wanting to draw too much attention to himself.

[fangs]

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Blake had not been outside at the very moment that Romanova made her grand entrance into the territory. The tall woman had instead been in her mansion training. The back of the door that opened into her room was littered with marks from her knives and spears repeatedly being thrown into the old wood. She would be surprised if the door held for much longer. Blake's ears picked up the sound of thundering hooves, her lips curving downwards into a frown. Moving towards her door, Blake pulled the spear that was currently lodged in the wood out with a jagged movement.

The top dog rolled her shoulders back and moved out of the mansion, her hand gripped firmly on the spear. It appeared the horse was gaining much attention and somewhere in her mind this frustrated the leader. She should be getting the attention, not Romanova. "Who're you?" Blake demanded, waltzing through the crowd with ease. She poked the large creature's shoulder with the tip of her spear and raised her eyes at Romanova. "Well? I don't have all day, who are you?" The leader spoke again, impatience lacing her tone.

Blake's eyes drifted to the deer for no more than a second before returning her intense gaze onto Romanova. She didn't have time for strangers waltzing in the territory on their own accord.

[spoiler=information / 24 • 1 • 17][color=black]
GENERAL — dogs of war and men of hate
▪︎ BLAKE ALAOIS / NO NICKNAMES
▪︎ female / she/her / lesbian
▪︎ twenty-four / october 5th
▪︎ top dog of the badlands / merciless
▪︎ 1/1 badass
INFORMATION — with no cause, we don't discriminate
▪︎ will always hold a grudge
▪︎ very capable of killing others and will do so to get what she wants
▪︎ has somewhat twisted morals
▪︎ enjoys torturing
▪︎ will encourage members of the badlands to fight each other
APPEARANCE — discovery is to be disowned
▪︎ HUMAN / 86% HEALTH
▪︎ she's tall and well muscled. teenage girls would probably love to have her body if it weren't for the scars that litter her body. years of fighting to survive comes with battle scars and she wears them proudly.
▪︎ her skin is tanned and her hair is dark brown in colour. blake always wears her hair tied back with leaves acting as a hair tie due to the lack of recourses lying around.
▪︎ she wears the most clothing out of everyone, leather armour she had made for her once. it still holds during battle and she is thankful for that fact but it shows clear signs of wear and tear. she only has one pair of boots which are only to be worn during battle to get the most out of their usage.
▪︎ not only do her scars and armour make her look intimidating and not to be messed with, blake wears the skull of a human on her face as somewhat of a mask. the skull was her first kill and wears it most days. if she isn't wearing the skull, she will paint her face with black war paint made from charcoal and water.
PERSONALITY — our currency is flesh and bone
▪︎ blake's personality is rather twisted and violent, filled with flaws the whole way along. she's ruthless and will do anything to get what she wants. if you even so much as disagree with her, she believes that's reason enough to punish you.
▪︎ blake is definitely not one of those people with a hard outer shell and a soft inner shell. no, she's tough both inside and out and probably got an f minus in the caring department at school. she is, however, smart and resourceful and knows what's going on everywhere.
▪︎ she's blunt, straight to the point and does not like her time getting wasted.
RELATIONSHIPS — hell opened up and put on sale
▪︎ SINGLE / NOT INTERESTED / 0 CRUSHES
▪︎ npc x npc / parents died early in the apocalypse
CONFONTATION — gather 'round and haggle
▪︎ PHYSICALLY EXTREME / MENTALLY VERY HARD
▪︎ starts fights / ends fights / will never run away / does not show mercy
▪︎ hard to approach / very mistrusting
▪︎ attack in bold & underlined black
[/spoiler]

[WOLFSBANE,]

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A silver-eyed gaze was drawn over the approaching female, a slender build with black hair caressing her features. Her jaws remaining clamped shut before a smile lifted upon the crooks of her chapped lips at her question before a curt nod was retrieved in the motion. Cranium tilting before she unlatched her stony jaws. [color=#AF6332]"Indeed it was," she stated simply in agreement, before much more could be uttered a new figure approached. A blonde haired girl younger than she, a thickly veiled accent lacing her tongue. Russian, just as she. With the growing group, she found a sense of nerves to emerge within her vessel as growing eye traced the mammal below her frame with a sense of curiosity as Romanova's bloodied hands yearned to clutch upon the seams of her knife. However so, her scarred limbs remained frozen in place, fingers thrown about the warn leather reins in her palms. "If you guys could stop staring at my horse like it was a slab of meat maybe we'd get along," the huntress mused in irritation.

Despite her presence within the community, she was no new face as she found herself situated just on the outskirts of the city within the confinements of an aged building just as others did. Rubble and scattered debris masking the thrashed wooden shack allowing the fem to find a sense of bliss within her home. Bits of old candles, trinquits, weapons, pelts and the teeth of wolves scattered about the nestled den. She was careful with displaying her stuff, and instead, hid items of importance in places of secrecy and managed to spike a few merciless traps here and there for the average scavenger. This was the Badlands, after all, and the feminine wouldn't hesitate to put a knife in someone- perhaps she'd enjoy it.

A frigid gaze slithered over the Top Dog momentarily, a brow raised upon the question. Even if she was presenting herself as a joiner, the messy-haired goddess wouldn't prance within the borders like an idiot. An amusing thought, really. "Romanova Bane, Grunt of the Badlands," she introduced, vocals cold as they cut through the thick air. She rather disliked the name grunt. A common term for an unskilled warrior, unfitting to the fem as she slipped from the horse's back, heavy boots contacting upon the asphalt, fingers caressing the edges of her knife before she came to cross her arms. Furs dangling from her shoulders and warn leather blackened with age as she stood in silence momentarily before continuing. "I joined your ranks a few months ago, despite the fact that I mind my own business around here, I'm no new face," Romanova stated, sharpened gaze leveled over the crowd before it returned upon Blake. The edges of her accent lining her vocals upon her words. Despite her blunt words and hardened features, a soft gaze caressed her stare like nectar.
[ah thanks pyre, shut up your post was gorgeous <3]
[spoiler=tags 1/26]
[color=#AF6332]GENERAL — manipulative
Romanova | “Ro” | Salt Queen
She / her | Female | Bisexual | Grunt
21 | January 26th | ENTJ  “The Commander”
[color=#AF6332]INFORMATION — blunt
Manipulates with ease
Kills without regret nor mercy
Carries a machete & multiple knives
Inspired by "The 100"
APPEARANCE — sarcastic
Romanova, a huntress of many talents enveloped within the art of battle as the militant finds war a rather interesting prospect, mainly because she excels as the art of battle and defense and enjoys the calculation that it carries. The grunt is known for her calculation after all, as her analyzation and quick thinking allows for graceful manipulation and finds ease in lying. With a cold heart and ruthless stare, the young adult considers herself rather merciless, however, she can find fairness in the slightest of situations. Despite her harsh exterior and sharp-tongue, Romanova is actually quite kind. Amusement seeping into her dappend soul like sweet cocoa butter and sarcasm enveloping her tongue with nectar- it isn’t too hard to make friends. However, with intimidation, she tends to draw them away, because she does in fact, bite.
PERSONALITY — cold
The female is of Russian and Brazilian decent, allowing for her tanned skin to radiate like the warmth of summer sunshine, her lips plump and her as soft as webbed silk. However, don’t be fooled, she is no ray of sunshine. Romanova’s thick dirty blonde hair cascades down the small of her back, usually held in a rather messy manner. With lightened hair and dark brows framing her features, it allows Roman’s silver blue spectacles to come of brilliance from her feminine almond-eyed stare. Faint freckles outlining the apples of her cheeks and cross bridge of her nose coccoon her skin. Long legs pedestooling the warrior at a height of 5’6 allow for a lean body and defined muscles to make of note. The goddess is usually found wearing darker colors. Tight black pants worn with gun straps about both thighs allow for maneuverability as a wolf pelt drapes over the side of one shoulder for warmth. A black parka worn just about all the time clings to her scarred skin paired with dark leather boots.

RELATIONSHIPS — direct
SINGLE | [ 0 ] crushes
Npc x npc
CONFRONTATION — humble
Extremely hard physically | Medium hard
Can power play peaceful or nonviolent actions
Message for plots
Attack in bold #AF6332

[DEXTER.]

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the sound of footsteps and familiar voices drew dexter towards the growing group, pupils expanding and contracting in both interest and alertness. his eyes, the color of the sunbaked sahara, surveyed the scene before him - a woman with tanned skin and blonde hair stood in front of the members, with a strong and confident pose. his lips stayed shut as he listened to her, gaze intently locked onto this grunt that he had never seen before. she could be marked as beautiful, with contrasting features that highlighted both flaws and perfections alike. romanova? her name made her sound like a goddess, an immortal being descending from above.

once her little speech was finished, the darkhaired man decided that he ought to say something, something worthwhile. he admitted to himself that no, likely nothing worthwhile would erupt from his wellworn vocal cords, but he could at least make an, albeit sorry, attempt at a returning sentence while also staying within range of a normal badlander. "fancy horse you've got there; doesn't look too.. sturdy," he commented, before continuing,  "never seen you before, but i'm guessing you're in the hunting unit of grunts?"

---

[spoiler=info — updated 1/28/17]
[size=8pt]GENERAL:
★ DEXTER MOREAU | DEX | CISGENDER MALE
★ panromantic | pansexual
★ 22 years of age | august 12th | ages one per year, on birthday
★ the badlands | grunt

IMPORTANT FACTS:
★ speaks both french and english and isn't afraid to show off.
★ is slightly obsessed with fireworks, sparklers and other explosive pyrotechnics.
★ at night, you can find him looking at the stars although he doesn't often invite others.

PHYSICAL:
★ HUMAN [8.12 / main] | health: 100%
— a sharp jaw and high cheekbones line this young man's face, tracing defined bones on his sunkissed face. dark brows and chocolate-colored locks frame his face, forcing his honeybrown eyes to pop. his frame can be described as muscular but slightly lithe as well. he's worked hard to avoid beinng beaten up in the badlands, and doesn't take kindly to offense. his outfit usually conists of a white shirt and dark jeans, occasinally paired with a leather jacket.
— [i]major injuries: none

PERSONALITY:
dexter is, well, easygoing. he takes life with stride, savoring it and trying every single aspect of it. he's extremely loyal, without a doubt and would die for friends and family. he is ambitious and pursues his dreams without a second thought, although this may come back to haunt him in the future. at first, most people label him as the 'flirty player' or the 'lazy pervert' of the badlands, but once people get to know him they realize that that's not true (okay, maybe a little bit true). he's a dreamer inside, one who will look at the stars all night long and not even realize that it's morning until the galaxies above fade into a new day. he may seem completely self-confident, but he's afraid. he feels as if he can't trust anyone in the badlands, and the stars are his only escape. if people really knew him, they'd know that he wasn't either of the above titles; he's an 'easygoing loser'.

RELATIONSHIPS:
★ single
★ NPC x NPC | generation 2
★ No Romantic Interest
★ No Sexual Interest

INTERACTION:
★ easily interacts + cautiously friendly
★ difficulty: 8/10 in battle | + strength & speed | - stamina & agility
★ begins battles, even if attempts to avoid
★ speech in bold #d3ac78
★ attack in bold #78a6d3
★ can powerplay nonviolent actions
★ all IC opinions
[/spoiler]

[TATIANA]

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k

TATIANA DOGSWORTH [abbr=17 years old, cis female, badlands member, savage, salty, harsh, mean, open, fearless, she's a person, bisexual and biromantic]✨[/abbr]
I can do it like a brother
Do it like a dude
Grab my crotch,
wear my hat low like you

In her own opinion Tatiana already found Romanova was a bore, god if she wasn't trying to be polite she'd be yawning.  She wasn't looking at the horse like it was a slab of meat, wait yeah she was, because that was all it was too her.  Tatiana wasn't starving or anything, she was just a growing teen, she was hungry all the time it seems.  But seeing Blake brightened the teens mood by tenfold, Blake was her idol, her superior and the one that she looked up too the most.  Well besides her father figure Charles.

"I joined your ranks a few months ago, despite the fact that I mind my own business around here, I'm no new face," was Tatiana the only one has never seen this chick around, not once.  Even if she was minding her own business Tatiana would've thought she'd see the girl on a fucking horse.  It wasn't like it wasn't well, noticeable.  "Never seen you before, but i'm guessing you're in the hunting unit of grunts?"  Now it was Deter who spoke to the girl, at least he also brought up the fact of never seeing this applicant of trying to be a god-like creature around.  Tatiana's green eyes kept at a glare as she looked at this chick, she was over this already. 

"I'd imagine she's part of the hunting unit."  Spoke Tatiana, she was recently made into a warchief she'd hope that'd she'd now what unit was in the war division.  And too her Romanova seemed like she could possibly by in either, it was like Tatiana either was a pick, skilled in both, but had to make a decision.  Tatiana was only curious to what this chick had picked for her road. 

GENERAL
✨ Tatiana Dogsworth | Tat | Cis Female (she/her)
✨ Scorpio / 17 years old / ages in real life time
✨ Badlands
✨ Grunts
✨ Spotify playlist ✨

NOTES
✨ Born in what would be Russia, her father was a mobster in what would be Russia, had moved too the Badlands area, her mother left several years ago and left her in the hands of some members of the group, what a terrific idea right.
✨ She is a sort of baddie, grunge, little rebellious teenager, she is one with beating people up, pure in her appearance though, frequently ignoring people.
✨ She has a thick Russian accent, that is slightly rough, dominating, but very interesting to listen too
✨ Smells of a cigarette smoke.

PHYSICAL
✨ Petite, 5' tall, pale, and a smol teenager.
✨ Chloe Mortez Grace
✨ Constantly wearing skirts or dresses
✨ Injuries: scratches and bruises
✨ Aliments: 80%

PERSONA
✨ ESTP | The Rebellious Teen | The Fighter | Chaotic Good
✨ Loyal, salty, fighter, strong, stubborn, and defensive
✨ Cocky, tricky, will fight you I fucking swear, hot headed

INVENTORY
✨ .44: 2
✨ A Colt Model 1873 Single-Action "New Model Army Metallic Cartridge Revolving Pistol"
✨ A switchblade knife
✨ Butterfly Knife
✨ Glass Knife
✨ Wasp Knife (one time use)
✨ 4 Throwing Knives
✨ Wooden Baseball Bat
✨ Two packs of gum
✨ Pack of cigarettes
✨ Water Canteen
✨ Lighter

RELATIONSHIPS
NPC X NPC
✨ Bisexual and Biromantic
✨ Single
✨ Friends:
✨ Crushes:
✨ Enemies:

INTERACTION

✨ dirty fighter, strong
✨ physically hard, and mentally medium
✨ skilled in martial arts, knife fighting, and a bit of gun play
✨ address in BOLD
✨ attack in #640000
✨ can powerplay nonviolent or peaceful gestures 

[Jed]

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Gazing upon the scene made Fenrir's mind cast a bunch of emotions. Mostly negative. The positive much more scarce and short lived. Everyone wanted to hear the bad first though, right? An iconic tradition of a list of bads to throw you down and one good to bring you back up and put you in a better mind set.

For starters, this was vexing. Not that much wasn't for the male--but while others were stuck on the big picture, he was scraping deeper. She was weak. Despite everyones easily impressed expressions, some may have been a facade to keep up a genial aura with someone so strong--Fenrir stuck to the back. Lips thinning, before turning down in his familiar grimace. He could have killed that thing on feet with a god damn fork. She shouldn't waste materials just for the extra shininess to the display. It might not have been her intention, but that's sure as hell the way he saw it.

Fenrir knew how expensive horses were these days, his dog almost cost him a fucking arm and leg. He wondered where she got it. He wondered where she slept. He wondered if the horse was trained and whether it would be more satisfying to kill her and take it--or just kill the horse so she wouldn't have it. His grimace wobbled momentarily before becoming steadfast once more. He was twisted, but fuck he'd love to watch the anguish cross her face finding the horse strewn across the dirty length of the badlands. She seemed like an attention whore mixed with a bad case of 'I'm better than everyone and I think I'm a toughass'. Fen wanted to watch her cry.

Rolling his jaw, Fenrir made his way closer in confident strides, standing next to Tatiana and throwing her a look before turning his calculating gaze onto Romanov.
''I'll try and remember your name Rowan. I'm Fenrir.''