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Post by Sargy [Jigg] on Jan 9, 2007 15:27:12 GMT -5
:Get Away:
Birthname: Dyvil
Name: Smaug
Nicknames: No. 237 (B37), Smaugy, Dragon, Bastard, Pet
Alias: The Dragon
Gender: Male
Age: As Yet Unknown
Race: Hellhound (Used to be a Canaan Dog)
Height: 3.5ft
Weight: Actually Quite Heavy for his height/build
Alliance: Galt Labs
Rank: The Pet/Guard
:Love life:
Crush: None
Crushed: None
Mate: None
Spawn: None
Siblings: Agel (F), Dryft (M), Pywer (F)
Dame: Mercy
Sire: Cyn
:Cool your Enemies:
Voice Type: Sneering, curling hiss. Often slurred.
Personality Type: Cold-Hearted, Spoilt Jerk
Being pampered and spoilt rotten by the scientists at Galt Labs has made Smaug possibly the most vain, selfish dragon-thing you might ever encounter in your sad life (What’s that you say? Your life isn’t sad? Believe me, meeting Smaug will make your life sadder than you could possibly imagine.)
Such a bastard is he, that in meeting him you would prefer to just walk away and leave it at that, but such a bastard is he, that he wouldn’t let you, rather jump before for you, grin crudely and force you to stay where you unfortunately were.
Caring little for no one, he has never felt the warm glow somewhere within your chest that is love; therefore he is bitter with everyone except his scientist owners.
Another reason he stays with the workers at Galt is because, so secretly, he is terrified of the unknown, and its dark, dark shadows.
A coward.
Strengths: Huge fangs would make a great weapon, if he had been wild. Curling and cunning words can confuse even the smartest of beasts. His tail could probably crush some pretty strong objects. His hearing his adept, due to the massive size of his ears.
Faults: He is slightly overweight for his size and height, even though he doesn’t look it, this is because he is spoilt and overfed by the scientists, sometimes this causes laziness and inactivity. Sometimes the weight of his tail can also be very annoying and slow him down. His wings do absolutely nothing to him, and seem to flap about in his way. His frills make him very hot sometimes, or very cold at others.
:Don’t Stare:
Coat Color: Pinky-Gray, Gray, Pinkish-Red (Tattoo), Silver (On Wings)
Coat Markings: (See Picture)
Tattoo: (See Picture)
Coat Length: Very Short, Almost Scaley
Eyes: Cat-like and Golden
Claws: White and Un-Retractable
Paw pads: Near Black
Body Type: Lean, Short
Deformity: (Though he does not consider them Deformities, rather improvements:) Useless, yet beautiful silver wings. Snake’s tongue. Huge Teeth. Very Heavy, Powerful Tail. Lynx-ears. Frills. Burn on his Haunches reading “GL”
:My Time of Change:
How do you turn an average canaan dog into a dragon? Ask Galt Labs.
Smaug was born with the name, “Dyvil”. His parents had thought long and hard about the name, and had decided upon it when he was born. His fur had been gray, tinted with red, which made them think of burning skin, and hell, therefore the mangled the word “Devil” into a name which could not be guessed as a sin at first speech.
Dyvil left his parents at a very early age, hating it when they ignored him, when they needed to hunt or attend to matters with his siblings. He felt all important, and his brothers and sisters hated it. He hated them.
So he left when he had just turned a Yearling.
He grew up learning from himself and the world around him, mainly from humans, and soon understood their ways, traditions, and was hardly considered a wild dog by the natives at all.
Once out on a trip to steal something from a butcher, he noticed a strange, glowing sausage lying outside. Thrilled, he leapt over to it, but it ‘jumped’ away from him. Ignorantly, he followed.
He was lead right into Galt Labs, like a foolish pup.
There the Scientists pushed him into a cage, and began to talk. He understood, though he could not answer.
He’s a different one.
Aye, his eyes remind me of…you know…
A dragon?
Yeh.
I’ve had a plan.
You have?
Yes, come.
When they walked away his chest throbbed with pride. A dragon! Did he really look that powerful, amazing, admirable? He hoped so!
Vainly, he fantasized walking out of the labs, and everyone cheering and applauding, “Look it’s the Dragon! Our Hero! The Amazing one!”
His dreams took him off to sleep.
He woke in a different area, and glanced about. He realized that he could not move any of his limbs and glanced at each leg in turn. They had been bound to a table. A scientist walked into a room and gave the dog a glance. Dyvil returned it unblinkingly.
The scientist leaned over the Dog and muttered. “You might like what we do to you, doggie, we’re going to make you into something Galt will treasure!”|
Dyvil blinked. A treasure?
He yelped suddenly, as something sharp hit him on the backside. A split second later, he was dozing.
He woke, and yawned hard. He felt different, as though he had more legs. No! They can’t have made me like a freakin’ spider! To his relief, when he looked around, he realized they hadn’t. But what was making him feel like he had more legs? He shrugged his shoulders to loosen them, and found they felt rather heavy.
No…
He looked round as far as he could and saw something which made his fanged mouth drop open in awe.
A pair of amazingly beautiful wings were perched neatly upon his shoulders. He shook them and noticed how they glimmered in the light. Oh how they will love me! He thought, dazed by shock and happiness.
Whatever stories he had heard of Galt Labs were gone. All lies.
The scientists continued to work on him, turning him into the dragon they had hoped for.
Finally, after at least a year, the work was done, and the scientists stared at the work of art, their eyes shining with pride, in a similar way to Dyvil’s.
He needs a name. B37 is pathetic for a creature of his majesty.
He still looks like a dog.
Oh shut up.
NAME?
What was that dragon in that book about the dwarf-thingy called?
Smaug?
So it was settled. Dyvil stuck out his chest as best he could, tied to the table, at his new name. Smaug. It was powerful, easy, brilliant.
The scientists kept him, and he made no attempts at escape. He knew each scientist, each scientist knew him. He protected them against the more open-minded hellions, and jeered at the weaker hellions. They tattooed him, gave him collars, made their mark. But he made his too.
Oh such fun it was.
:Other Fanart:
:These odd singers, they describe me?:
*ChumbaWamba – I get Knocked Down*
I Get Knocked Down, But I get up again
