chasing demons dressed like me.

[Kest]

Buster

[/u]
Name

Tom[/u]
Gender

Mixed[/u]
Breed

Adult[/u]
Age

- - - - - - - - - -

Appearance
Picture.
Buster is a dark tabby tom with wavy bars of darker stripes and lighter markings. His eyes are shifty sky-blue.
He is not yet 'old' by any cat's standards, but he is slowly beginning to feel the effects of his aging. He is a rather large cat.

Personality
Buster is an unusual cat with a strong tie to his family and an endless tenacity. He has quick reflexes despite his slowly advancing age. When under pressure, or especially when he is feeling threatened, Buster has the unfortunate tendancy to abandon reason and resort to violence. Often of the senseless variety.

History[/u]
Buster was once part of a tight-knit family. There was Buster's brother Mau; Mau's mate Chloe; their kits Veldt, Mauwi, and Saigon; and an orphaned cousin of the kits called Ryugyong.
They lived out an isolated existance. All they needed, whether it be shelter or food, dwelt in the forest that was their home.
But all good things must inevitably end.
A group of unfamilliar cats came by one leaf-fall afternoon, a savage band of warriors from a Clan known as FangClan. For no particular reason save for their own enjoyment, the FangClanners attacked the family.
It was a savage fight. It lasted until just after sunset; then darkness fell hard upon the forest and the FangClanners left.
Only Buster, Ryugyong, Mauwi, and Saigon survived. They tried their best to pick up the peices and fix the shattered remnants of their life as a family.
Mauwi, as the second-oldest brother, took over the task of raising young Saigon. Ryugyong was a fleeting presence, home one day and gone the next. A moon and a half after the attack, he brought home a mate, stuck around a few days, then continued his wanderings. Buster developed a case of raging paranoia and took to orbiting their home, setting borders and calling it 'guard duty'.
The family's leftovers eked out a passible life for two moons more.
And then they returned. The FangClanners, bored and bloodthirsty again.
Ryugyong and his mate happened to be home at the time, and caught their scent early. They tried to slip away unscathed, but the FangClanners caught and killed them.
Buster had been patrolling when the FangClanners found him. They attacked him, three on one; Buster was taken completely by suprise. When the vicious warriors finally ended their assult, he was on the edge of death. They left him.
They returned to the camp.
Mauwi tried to fight. With young Saigon hissing at his side, he attacked the FangClanners--but with no battle training, Mauwi was slaughtered, right before his brother's terrified eyes.
Saigon fought ferociously, impressing even the hardened FangClanners. Instead of killing him, they subdoed the little black tom-kit and took him away.
Through it all Buster lay bleeding in the mud on the riverbank, unable to move but awake enough to hear the fight. Awake enough to taste the blood in the air and hear his kin's dying screams.
A FangClanner pushed him into the swollen river. He was carried downstream. It had been raining before, and the water was slow and stagant; Buster was pushed onto the shore a half mile down.
He slept. He lived. And when he awoke, it was with fury in his heart.
His family was dead. His only kin had been kidnapped. He resolved to steal Saigon back.
Buster had, and still has, an amazing sense of smell. He tracked the FangClanners for half a moon, over inhospitable landscapes and through twoleg towns. No injury, no setback was great enough to keep him from the trail.
Finally, he was lead to a derelict land. The homeland of the FangClanners.
He found and caught up with a FangClan patrol. He watched them cross a rise. He thought: What right did they have to do this? To take all this away from me? To kill my family? Did they think I would let them get away with it?! The PERSECUTORS!
Then Buster rushed the patrol, insanity taking hold. He was one adult cat, not old but getting ready to start becoming old, facing five trained killers.
He tore them apart.
His reflexes were--are--amazing; his instincts, flawless. He had never fought a true battle in his life, but he had a natural talent. None of his enemies could match the speed and ferocity of his attacks.
When it was over, Buster stood panting as if he had run a long way. The five FangClan warriors lay dead, their pelts stiff and heavy with blood.
Buster walked away, not toward the borders, but toward the FangClanner's camp.
He walked right in, carrying the body of the youngest patrol-cat, a small apprentice. He dropped it at his paws.
The FangClan cats saw the body and smelled the blood of the other four fallen.
They did not attack. Their Clan was not organized; a cat gained rank there by killing the cat above him and taking his place. The FangClan cats worshiped power; the breathed power like air. It was all they understood. And they reconized a cat who had power.
Buster demanded to know where Saigon was. At first no cat answered. And then one cat stepped forward.
The FangClanner said, "He ran off. He was cracked, y'know. Like in the head. He ran off around three-four days ago. He was one screwed-up sonofabitch, all full of fire one moment, then spineless, like a kitten."
Buster grabbed the FangClanner by the scruff and threw him to the ground. He pinned him down and put his face right up to the FangClanner's. "You insult my nephew again," he hissed, "and I'll rip your goddamn face off."
Then he stood and walked away, leaving the FangClanner, who did not move for another five minutes.
The FangClanners were impressed. They did not challenge Buster, who was obviously mad...in both senses of the word.
Buster wandered, tracking Saigon. His search has lead him to a valley in which seven Clans reside; he has not yet found his nephew, and he still has no idea that his nephew has a son of his own.[/size][/blockquote][/center][/color]