Of sinners and saints [open]

OOC Name: trashbag Denny
Name: Sathanus Morningstar
Design:

Appearance: Build: Sathanus is not immense by any means. In fact, she is not even the largest of her siblings. This could be the source of her constant aggression, the fact that she isn't the biggest of the bunch. Standing at 33" tall and weighing all of 97 lbs she is a far cry from her heritage. Long legged and well muscled for a female of her genetics, she takes pride in her appearance. Overall, she is actually quite stocky. By comparison to her lanky and graceful sister, at least. A thick neck and sturdy cranium lend itself to an imposing countenance. Rounded ears only serve to add to the illusion that she is a tank. Powerful thighs and shoulders move her, and offer power behind her strikes in a fight. Large paws, almost too large for her, keep her steady on all terrains.
Coat: A base of the deepest ebony coats the creature. Thick and dense fur covers her body. Breaking up her rather simple design is charcoal grey, covering her underbelly and throat. The same hue rims her ears, and forms perfect brow points upon her features.
Eyes: While often shuttered by a glare or scowl, there is no way to miss the deep maroon of her eyes. They are unsullied by any other colours, unlike her father's sunset gaze.
Voice: Low and gravelly tone; like sandpaper on the ears. Barely above a growl her her preferred tone of voice. On occasion it will lighten, but that it only for those worthy of respect. That list is short. While it is a sonorous voice, it can hardly be described as pleasant. Monotonous droning is how she generally interacts with strangers.
Scent: Rust and petrichor.

Personality: Chaotic Evil (because Denny hasn't done that in a while)
Domineering: This is a creature with presence who will not be silenced or shoved into shadow. Those of weaker substance will be crushed beneath her aura. Pushing around any who would make the mistake of weakness, she will utterly destroy the faint of heart. Sathanus is well aware of who she is and what she is capable of.
Vulgar: Choices of words are carefully made in order to invoke brutal and crystalline images. Profane language drips from her tongue with little to no provocation. The bitch is oft the one to disturb strangers and taint the minds of the young.
Brawler: There is nothing noble about the urge to get into a fight with this one. The bitch aims only to draw blood and inflict pain, be it for simple or complex reasons. She needs little prompting to get into a fight, and this has littered her with scars. Most are small, since her childhood was mostly spent hiding away from the world. However, it is clear she was not meant to remain a blank canvas of fur and flesh.
Short Fuse: Temperamental and quick to anger. Upon first meeting her, it is apparent the wolf is easy to rile up. The incarnation of wrath is a fitting title. A wrong word or a threat is all that's needed to spark her ire, and little else is needed to fuel the fires. She dwells on unsettled disputes and lets them ferment in her head until they explode in violence.
Sensual: Sex is hardly taboo, and she finds herself indulging in it constantly. She could charm the skin off a snake, which lands many in her bed. Primal acts such as this are her favourite, and she is a sensation based creature to the core. The here and now are important, and she finds herself most present while sharing these moments with another. Unlock me at age 2!

Role Play Sample: Crown slung low betwixt ebon shoulders, the femme stalked through the tall grass. Rage simmered ever present beneath her skin. Somewhere there was someone who needed to pay and she was going to find them. The scent of them was trapped in her nostrils, crimson gaze focused intently on the path ahead. Thunderheads pushed closer on the horizon, threatening her with the loss of her trail. Heavy steps had her on the war path, fearing no one to hear her coming.

The filth was found unawares. There was no point in drawing it out. Round audits would pin tight against her skull, lips peeling back from her teeth. The bitch lowered her head, tucking her chin just a little. If he caught her, she didn't want to be left open to attack. She barrelled forth, and aimed to connect her chest with his rump. The goal was to shove him off balance. It worked well enough, and he stumbled just a little. Jaws would ensnare his right hind leg, fangs finding a home buried within writhing flesh. He screamed. Howled in pain. She didn't care. He had fucked up. Dragging him to the ground, he was lain out with legs splayed out behind him.

Jerking her head this way and that, she felt tendons snapping and fraying under her grip. His free foot connected with the side of her face. Snarling, the bitch released what was now a crippled limb. He rolled over, trying and failing to get back to his feet. His belly was terribly exposed. Dark form would lunge and meet with flailing forelimbs. Claws raked against her chest, tearing away clumps of charcoal fur. Squinting to protect her eyes, the brawler would use one forelimb to strike at his face. Catching sensitive nostrils with her talons, she distracted him just enough.

The bitch tore at his belly. Teeth inflicting as much damage as she could with each bite. It didn't take long to disembowel him. Before he had even finished struggling, she would feast upon the slithering entrails still warmed by his churning gut.