Post by .War on Feb 13, 2007 20:22:37 GMT -5
This war won't --!-- f i g h t i t s e l f . x x
e m a n = War[/blockquote]
r e d n e g = Tom
e g a = adult/young adult
s k o o l = Dark black-brown tom, pale neon-green eyes.
a n o s r e p = Obsessed with fighting. Loves war; not the blood and guts, nor the death, nor pain, but battle is his passion. Headstrong and follows no one. Does what he wants. Not cruel, but arguemenative. Picks fights. Will fight anyone or anything. Attacks first, asks questions later. Slightly spastic. Makes fun of things nearly constantly. Will fight for anyone. Does not care who is wrong or right so long as he gets to fight.
Is a punk. A hardass. Highly headstrong and stubborn, possesses a strong streak of independance. Can't stand to follow orders...or follow anyone. Does what he wants. Says what he wants.
War is a sociopath.
y r o t s i h = Born to parents Skillsharp and Honedclaw, War was initially called Warheart. His sister was Battlesoul, and his other favorite cousin was Killingstrike.
They were part of an extremely tightknit militaristic society. The leader of their group was Earthshaker, the most powerful fighter in that section of the world, and his mate was the formidable Warrumble.
They were a stern, fierce society. They cared for each other, but they were strict and uncompromising. They upheld the strictest of discipline, and used the worst of punishments to keep their rules intact.
Warheart was the least talented of his litter. Battlesoul had been a fast sucess to battle training, and Killingstrike had an excellent career ahead of him. But though Warheart was...enthusiastic, to say the least, he was clumsy, unruly, and difficult. His parents worked him mercilessly, punished him harshly, bore down on him in hopes that he would grow to become like his talented family.
And Warheart learned. His particular brand of enthusiasm wasn't welcomed in the group, however; one day, while Warheart and Killingstrike were scuffling in a mock-fight, Warheart grew too excited and accidentally slaughtered his favorite cousin.
His society would never tolerate a killer, even an accidental one. They would hunt him down and kill him if they knew, or at least drive him away for good. In a convulsion of panic, Warheart threw Killingstrike's body down a cliff and washed his fur in the river.
Everyone wondered where he was. No one suspected Warheart.
He got away with murder.
Warheart's growing skill in battle was earning him respect. The ungainly, unbalanced kit he had been was vanishing. It was said that he may one day take Killingstrike's path, and maybe even surpass him and become a General.
Then Warheart made a mistake. He was playing with the newest litter of kittens, who were old enough to wander outside. He teased them and batted them over with his paws. The kittens enjoyed the game; they squeaked and fought back, cutting Warheart with tiny kitten claws.
Just a game, but Warheart soon found himself drawn in by that game. He fought with more spirit, enjoying the game as much as the kittens did. But the kittens stopped enjoying the game when Warheart began -not on purpose, his excitement only ran away with him- to use his claws.
When he finally beat the game, he realized that he had killed all the kittens.
Insteady of guilt, Warheart felt terror. He glanced wildly around, seeking a place to hide the bodies. He hadn't meant to kill the kittens.
But terror escalated as the sound of crashing paws reached his ears. The patrol was back, and here was Warheart, standing amidst the bodies of five little kittens, bloodstained and bewildered.
And that was how they, Skillsharp, Honedclaw, Thrillfire, and Fiercesting the kitten's mother, found him: standing with his claws out, blood pooled around him, his neon eyes wide.
Fiercesting attacked him, screaming at the loss of her kits. Honedclaw tackled her and held her down, spitting that there would be a trial and Warheart would get what he deserved.
There was a trial. Earthshaker, Warrumble, Skillsharp, Honedclaw, Thrillfire, Battlesoul, Bloodbright, and Nightridge were there.
It was no fair trial. By now, each had assumed the worst, and each had realized that Warheart was the reason such a promising cat, Killingstrike, was dead.
The trial began with grave, dissapointed tones, and ended in shrill screaming, shock, and blood.
Skillsharp and Honedclaw pressed that Warheart be killed. The entire trial seconded, and Warheart ran...chased by his furious, hurt, bloodthirsty sister Battlesoul.
Hers was the last face he saw in that place. Her bared fangs, her shining claws, her snarling expression of hate.
Warheart ran, to be known as War in the new lands where he settled.- - - . x x . - - -
y t e i c o s s ' r a W ((for your entertainment, I will post War's old group stats, as if the night he was exiled))
the Certamenthe:
Monarchs
Earthshaker & Warrumble
General
Nightridge
Healer
Heartshot
the High Guard
Skillsharp
Honedclaw
Bloodbright
Thrillfire
the Middle Guard
Fiercesting
Darkcrest
Battlesoul
Powderburn
the Low Guard / trainees
Fightready
Sharpeyes
Steelclang
Kits
none
the Old Guard / elders
Blitzkrieg
