THUNDERCLAN, batwing Nov 18, 2012 18:55:04 GMT -5
Post by Batwing on Nov 18, 2012 18:55:04 GMT -5
WARRIOR OF THUNDERCLAN
WARRIOR OF THUNDERCLAN
THE BASICSTake it and take it and take it and take it all
Take it and take it and take it until you take us all
Smash it and crash it and thrash it and trash it
You know they're only toys~ devour, shinedown
NAME,His name is BATWING.
GENDER,Batwing is a MALE character.
AGE,Batwing is THIRTY-SIX moons old.
POSITION,Batwing is a WARRIOR of THUNDERCLAN.
SHORT DESCRIPTION,Batwing is a LARGE BLACK TOM with GREEN eyes.
SPE ||The Build
To put things as mildly sa possible, I'll sum up this tom's general structure in one word - he's big. Like, 'I tower over you!' big. And, pairing that with two green, hateful eyes, you don't get a very pretty result. Just the way he looks is enough to intimidate the majority of the people around him, so it's no wonder why he has so little friends. As for his shape, Batwing is pretty darn... squarish? In a sitting positions, he looks very much like a simple cat like column. Not perfectly straight, no, but few a curve has been placed upon his massive frame. So... he's squarish, you could say. Height? Well, it be odd to have a large cat be short, would it not? So, as it should be fairly obvious, this tom is quite tall in comparison to your average cat. Not freakishly tall - something that makes him stand out majorly in a crowd - but tall enough to balance out his muscular frame. As for weight, he's heavy. He'd be difficult to push off you had you been locked in battle with him. Off course, this can also lead to some difficulties; he's quite slow, for this reasons, and crashing through narrow passages is not uncommon with him around. As for his beuild, I can describe it in only one, easy way. He's very, very muscular. Fitting in with his aggressive and overly confident persona, Batwing has a build fit for a powerful fighter. And, let me tell you, he doesn't let them go to any waste. And boning? Well, I'll just say it fits in well with his massive size.
Batwing's are spread somewhat widely apart atop his head and are a bit shorter then your average pair of ears. Tilted outwards in just the slightest manner, the only really noticable difference from them and any other set of ears is the size of the gap between them. And, well, the fact that one is the slightest bit skinnier then the other. Unfortunately, smaller ears make hearing a tad bit harder for him, so easedropping on others is much easier said then done for him. His tail, however, is longer then usual and has been very well kept. Tail signals, for this reason, are easier for others to see. It'd be a good trait, had he the skills to work in a group of cats. Instead, that tiny difference is easily wasted. As for paws, his are actually fairly large, matching his generally large size. But, even then, their still a bit odd looking for their abnormally large size. No embarrassement, thankfully, is found in this factor, though, and the only porblem they cause fo rhim doesn't bother him as much. His large size and weight already make him poor at stalking prey and such. And claws? They are, surprising, average length in comparison to his paws - much to the tom's displeasure. Longer claws would equal more power in a blow. Unfortunately, this is a trait that the tom was not granted and bothers him ever so. Aw, well. At least their sharp enough for his taste. The size of his eyes... are normal. Fitting the description for an average cat compltely. Nothing too special about them here...
Moving right along, we find that those plain old boring eyes are, in fact... round. Just a tad bit flatter then a circle, making them more of an oval then anything, these purely circular eyeballs are simply defined by, well, nothing, really. The onlything that lets them stand out is their astonishing color in comparision to the sea of black they've been thrown into. His nose is, much like his eyes, is an average sized, shaped, and placed nose. With it's triangle-like shape, it actually fairly difficult to distinguish where it even is upon his face. Both of these factors are, obviously, much to his displeasure. His face is generally bland... Why would someone be happy about that? His neck, bulky as it is, is pretty average as well, just slightly exceeding the desired length of your typical feline. Of course, the neck is such and overlooked thing... This doesn't bother him all that much, as no one else takes any notice. At all. But, an average height, yet an abnormally muscular built make his neck look more chubby then they probably should... As for his legs... Well, their longer then usual, only adding to his height and balancing out the ratio of muscle to size. They're still as thick as they would be on any other cat; they just make him taller then normal. And, finally for this paragraph, the size of his head... Well, it is an average sized head. However, in comparison to the rest of his body, it does look a bit out of place, sitting at the top of the rest of his frame.
Moving away from the various sizes and shapes that can be found scattered across Batwing's body, we move on to his most well kept feature - his fur. Yes, Batwing believes looking as sophisticated and well-kept will not only make him look more respectable, but help keep others from suspecting his dark side. A mad man would not show such careful and well-thought out procedures, surely! As for the texture, it can be define as simply... smooth. Having a tongue constantly making it's way through his fur can do that it, can't it? It's no surprise that the layer of black that has been drapped across him is soft to the touch by the way that he takes care of it. As for length, the warrior is a shorthaired cat. And what does this mean? Well, he has short fur, of course! Banishing the cold in leafbare is not so simple with short strands of fur as your only protection. However, getting warm in greenleaf is also just as difficult. Short fur isn't all bad, is it? Lastly, we move onto the imperfections scattered across his pelt - his scars. Of course, every cat is bound to have some sort of a scar - even medicine cats may have a tiny one from a thorn scratch of somesort. But, being the kind of tom who enjoys tosing himself into every battle possible, it would be almost impossible for him to have less then twenty or so scars. Of course, most of his small, insignifcant ones are covered by a layer of fur. However, major scars are still visible. Like, for instance, the ugly gash that has been carved onto his right shoulder, or even the deep nick in left ear.
When you think of a crazy cat, what color do you think of? Black, most likely - it and red are typically the colors paired with the evil. Or, perhaps, you think of white as a sort of irony. Well, if you guessed that Batwing is black, you'd be correct! A think coat of black has been carefully drapped across his frame, and what a beautiful shade of black it is! For the most part, this dark color is what defines the tom. However, his eyes, the insides of his ears, and every other part not covered by fur breaks through a tidal wave of the black color. That, and a single paw and the tip of his tail. His front right paw looks as though it has been dipped into white paint as it stands out clear as day in a sea of black. The last siz or seven inches of his tail are the same, snowy white as his right paw. His eyes also stand out plain as day, being a brilliant, leafy green. His pads, inner ears, and nose are all the same color - a very, very dark pink. In fact, it wouldn't be hard to mistake them all for that same black color that dominates the rest of his pelt. His teeth are a very faint yellowish color from wear over the span of three years of life, while his tongue is a vibrant pink.
THE TRAITSTry it you'll like, it don't hide it, don't fight it, just let it out
Steal and shoot it and kill it or take another route
Take it and take it and take it
You know they're only toys~ devour, shinedown
PERSONALITY,So, like, I'm gonna be lazy and get this over with really quick~! Batwing's ambitious! Not like a bad ambitious like Tigerstar or anything, but he's got goals and he's willing to do anything to achieve them. He's decisive, so he doesn't struggle too much over which option to go with. For the most part, anyway. He's hard-working, meaning that, if he really wants to do something, he'll get it done and done correctly. He's mature... to a point. So he doesn't jump around like a kittypet, batting at butterflies and all that stuff. He's quite serious - it's like there isn't a funny bone in his body - and he doesn't tend to crack jokes at things he shouldn't. Or, actually, at anything, really. He's alert, like most clan cats, meaning that he doesn't miss the tiny snapping of twigs or tiny little whispers within earshot. He's energetic. Not in the way that he runs around like he's on drugs or something, but, as in, he doesn't wear out easily. He's pretty intelligent. So, like, he knows a lot of things. Nothing to special. He's organized and can keep his stuff in place and - dare I say it? - he's pretty darn strong physically.
Sadly, as we all have our perks, we all have our less tasteful traits. So, this guy's pretty darn secretive. As in he won't tell anyone anything that goes on in his mind unless they pry it out of him. He's not ro polite, either, and it more likely to snap at anyone before he bows down to them. Going right along with that, he's hostile. Not the most friendly person around and far from a lovable teddy bear. He's decieving, prefering to trick someone into doing what he wants than flat out asking and he's pretty indifferent on any matters not directly concerning himself. Someone dying in camp? Good for them. Leave him out of it. Batwing's pretty reckless, too, doing everything on the fly without caring about the conciquences that come with his actions. He's pretty unlucky, too, in general, guessing as fortune only comes with a giant monster to the face and spoiled freshkill for lunch. He's impatient, so he can't keep his paws still for more than one hundred heartbeats. He's self-centered and doesn't tend to care about the people around him. Lastly, he couldn't exactly be concidered a good guy on the good and bad scale. So... yeah. There you go.
- being in large groups of people.
- engaging in conversation.
- the cold.
- annoying people. just... in general.
- the voices.
- loosing himself completely to madness.
- falling in love.
- you know, crazy?
THE HISTORYDevour, devour
Suffocate you own empire
It's your final hour~ devour, shinedown
- MOTHER: SHADEFALL - black she-cat with green eyes. [deceased]
- FATHER: FROSTBITE - large black tom with blue eyes. [deceased]
- SIBLING(S): N/A - N/A.
HISTORY,Where it All Began
It all began with Batwing's mother, Shadowfall. She had the looks, she had the smarts, and, even though she was one of the most snobbiest cats you'd ever know when she was an apprentice, she had a personality that would make her a good mother. It wouldn't be a surprise if a tom or two had a major crush on her, but, if anyone did, she would have completely oblivious. Instead, the she-cat had her eyes set on one tom, and one tom only - Frostbite, Batwing's future father. She had watched him from a far and was, well, sympathetic. She imagined that he cut himself off from his family because he had been hurt (emotionally). She wanted to be there for him, so he wouldn't be so... distant.
When Love Begins for the First Time
So she would follow him around, attempting to make conversations with him. All she had wanted to do was to help him through, what she thought was a rough time. Perhaps he took no notice, or just didn't care for her, but none of that mattered to the her. She wanted to 'help' him until he was 'better'. But her emotions spiralled from there. What had once been sympathy evovled into something more - even more then her one sided friendship she had declared after a while. She didn't tell him at first, and actually became a bit distant from him for a while, but she would come crawling back to him soon.
A Fool and her Mate
It was only a matter of time when she confessed her love to him. Though it didn't seem as though he returned a bit of her love, he still accepted her as his mate. But the black female was oblivious to this fact and lived in her own little world - a world where she loved him and he loved her. She always fanticized about one day giving life to the dark tom's kits and would talk to him about them nonstop. It seemed as though he didn't share the same feelings. But she chattered on, day dreaming about children of her own to take care of, even after she had moved on to be an elder.
And she did.
Mother of Evil
A few seasons into the two's relationship, the compationate warrior discovered she was expecting his kits. She had never been happier in her entire life. But what her mate must have thought could have been the complete oposite...
From the very start, things didn't go over to well for poor Batwing - then Batkit. His father wasn't exactly the most popular tom cat around, and many people disapproved of the small family right off the get-go. Poor old Batkit was very timid and shy... If cats had the ability to break down into tears, he might have very well done exactly that in the presence of a stranger, or even cats a little unfamiliar. His mother was his one and only comfort. Her voice, so gentle and warm. Her encouragement, enough to change a pessimist into an emotional speaker. Her touch, so soft and graceful. Everything about her made him admire her more and more, and he never left her side, unless he'd fallen asleep. A few other kits attempted to cheer p the fragile kit - they'd invite him to play and laugh along side him. But when their attempts failed, many gave up and accepted that he was to shy to make any social connections with the others.
Sworn to Secrecy*
For the first three moons of his life, Batkit's father avoided his mate and son completely. It was like they were invisible to him, and he never even looked their way. Hoever, shortly after the mark of Batkit's fourth month in the clan, the large black tom begin to change - for the worst. First, it began with never ending arguements between mother and father. They'd lash out at one another over th efate of their child and grew more and more angry with one another. But he grew more and more violent as the days went on, until, eventually, it lead to physical abuse. The warrior threatened to harm their defenseless kit in the case in which she told another soul and, being as protective as she was of their ownly kit, Shadowfall found herself sworn to secrecy. But Batkit knew. He watche dhim, day after day, beating his mother mercilously. Not after long, he needed little a reason to attack. And that was when the anger began to form.
Innocence it Broken
Not long before Batkit's apprentice ceremony, things began to change again for the small family. Not only did His father's abusive attacks happen more often and got worse, but he also began to direct his attacks upon his only kit. The price that the tiny black tom would face if his mother ever told went from a simple beating to something far worse - death. Shadowfall began to grow distant, quiet, and apathetic to the things going on around her while her mate's, Frostbite, attitude in public was far, far better then that of his attitude in front of his family. Meanwhile, that tiny, innocent kit's anger was beginning to boil, but social awquardness prevented him from finding a way to blow off his steam... Only days before the apprentice ceremony was set to take place, Batkit followed the sound of his mother's voice only to find his father beating her senseless yet again. Only, this time, when she was beaten down, she didn't get back up. And she never would. Her own mate had murdered her. Carelessness lead to the discovery of the crime and the clan's eyes were opened. Upon asking if the tom would repent himself and change his ways, the answer they received gave him the boot out of the clan and into exile. He'd claimed to be proud of his deed and that the world would be better without 'that she-cat and her blasted child'.
And with the death of the once great female, the first cracks began to appear in one fragile tom's mind...
Falling Inside the Black
Misplaced anger began to boil over after Batkit moved on to be Batpaw. Conversations now existed between him and his denmates, but they usually consited of a lot of yelling and hateful comments. Of course, even shouting at the other apprentices that bothered him wasn't enough to get rid of all that rage and anger that had begun to form inside his still small mind. With every passing day that he imagined that tomi lurking out there, free, outside the clan's territories, the more it tore at his heart. But revenge was a completely foreign concept to him, and battle would remind him of the terrible beatings that he was forced to endure for much of his earlier moons. So, in futile hopes to push it off and get it out of his mind, the tom continued to bottle up his fury. But all of this hate and anger kept multiplying... and beganto manifest into something else. Something far more sinister.
And its name was Sayryn.
Like a person of its own, the rage that Batpaw had been unable to let go of had manifested itself into it's own 'cat' so to speak. Unkown in description, yet an amazingly good liar, you could say that this Sayryn was purely... evil. Rage. Hatred. Anger. All of these traits meshed into one voice that resided within the naive apprentice's mind. The voice slowly but surely began to convince the weak apprentice to seek out revenge upon his father, as it would be be what his mother wanted. Easily falling into the trap set by his own mind, Batpaw began to plot his fathers demise.
Days of attempting to track down Frostbite's trail with little luck left Batpaw tired anf atigued upon returning to the camp for his apprentice training. His failed attempts only made him angrier at the whole synario. So, driven by rage and a hunger for revenge, the tom continued to search for his traitorish father. But, as before, these attempts came with no success. However, Sayryn continued to urge him to carry on with his mission to avenge his mother's death. With little awareness of the trap that he was falling into, the apprentice continued to do as the creature told... And, eventually, revenge would be his.
Discovery and an Act of Suicide
After Batpaw had finally given up on his search, much to his voice's displeasure, word began to spread around that prey was slaughtered and left to rot all across their land, and the scent of a rouge could be found practically everywhere you looked on ThunderClan's territory. Hope began to spark in both apprentice and creatures' minds and, with new found determination, he set out once again on his search for his father. But, even then, it took him more then a quarter moon before he caught site of the half starved monster. At the site of the pitiful creature, Batpaw's rage boiled over and he found himself in a chase. Finally, when the older tom was cornered in front of the thunderpath - strength little to none due to starvation - he made a fatal decision. In the face of an approaching monster, Frostbite assured himself that he would never die to the claws of his worthless son.
He'd commited suicide.
Sell Your Soul
But Sayryn was far from over with the still fragile apprentice. With his anger mutltiplying at rapid paces, it was clear that that rage was souly directed at his now dead father. He'd never get his revenge. He'd failed. Closer was as farther from being an option then anything else. But in all the sorrow and anger boiling inside Batpaw's mind, the monsterous voice hatched an idea. No longer would he just be an unheard voice in the back of foolish tom's mind. She he made a deal with the older apprentice, promising that he'd have his revenge, but on one condition. He'd have to sell away his humanity to manifested creature within the depths of his mind. As confusing as it may sound, it was at this point of time, when his desire for revenge lead him to agree, did that young Batpaw become the monster that he is today. Shortly after his warrior ceremony where he earned his warrior name, the rest of the voices began to appear one by one. When there was only one, they were simply annoying. But when mutliple began to speak at once, depending on how many there were, the pain in his head could be enough to split it wide open. But the tom was helpless to resist that, or the evil monster who was slowly taking complete control over his actions.
From then on Out
I think you can imagine what happens next. Him going completely insane, but being forced to put on a mask to hide his inner demons in fear of banishment. (He believes being left alone will let Sayryn take complete and utter control over him... >.>) He was left alone, without a friend in the world to comfort him...
((WHO'S LAZY?! ME!!!!!))
*Frostbite does not belong to me. He belongs to Ginger of The Golden Age~! He was a little off his rocker, as well, so... yeah...
THE OOCDevour, devour
Stolen like a foreign soul
What a way to go!~ devour, shinedown
OOC NAME,You can call me LEAP.
AGE,I am FIFTEEN years old.
EXPERIANCE,I have been roleplaying for TWO years.
SECRET WORD,The secret word is POKEMON FOREVER.
OTHER CHARACTERS,I also play NO ONE.
RP SAMPLE,And the boy lost all his life savings. There was much rejoicing.
Or, at least, that could have been what happened if he'd fallen victim to the many, many slot machines that lined the Game Corner of Neurift City. Games of all different kinds, flashing in many colors and decorated to a point that it burned the eyes were scattered across the building, though almost every one shared a similar concept on how to win the game... and how to steal money from the idiots willing to give their's away in hopes of winning big. As one could assume, this was a stupid way of trying to make a profit. Couldn't these people get jobs, or something? Make a solid pay instead of losing more than winning, but letting their drunk off their butt minds allow themselves to think otherwise? It all seemed so simple if one truly thought about it. Put a great deal of effort into thinking up all the reasons why a secure job was better than the sport of something like gambling at filthy casinos. Of course, not everyone actually tried to think their ways throught their boring - or exuberating, depending on the person - lives. Instead, they just threw themselves head first into anything and everything and expected the best of results.
Alva Faunus, billionaire to be, was one of these morons.
The green-haired wonder would be sitting at one of these colorful little slot machines, himself, insterting coins, pulling levers, expecting to see more coins drop from the machine, and cry when he got unlucky. It was just what he did. It was his thing. What better way to use the money from the credit card he stole from mommy and daddy before getting out of that blasted place and never looking back? At least three times every week he came down to this place, spending hours at one machine before getting bored and spending hours at another. Thrilling, I know. But he enjoyed it, and he did what he wanted, no matter what anyone else said about it. So, if he wanted to waste his life in that dump of a place, he would do just that. Waste his life in that dump of a place. The slot machines were his friends - maybe his only ones - even if they stole his money and left him with empty pockets every night. But, hey! A cheating friend is better than no friend at all, right? Totally.
But this brought up an interesting question. Why exactly was he not participating in the masses of gambling loonies, doing just that? Loosing all his money because it was the most entertaining way of doing so? Well, there was a very important reason for this. It was that he had not money to loose. He wasn't broke. His parents were loaded - he'd be able to use that credit card for almost five years without a worry, he would always tell himself - so there was no worry about going broke. But he'd forgotten to bring any money with him when he make the excrutiatingly long trip from the Pokemon Center to the casino. Which, in all honestly, wasn't very far at all - maybe a five, ten minute walk? - but it was that far for him. Sure, he could have gone back to get it but that required effort and he hated having to use effort for tiny little things. So, instead, he decided to be lazy, mope, and hit his head against the machine before him like a depressed teen who no longer felt like living. Which could almost be used to describe the situation he was in. He didn't always act his age, and, if he couldn't gamble, what was the point on living at all?
"Arg, if I don't get out of here, I'm going to die," he bellowed, smacking his forehead against the machine multiple times slightly. The slots moved - also slightly - in responce to this movement, yet he payed no attention and didn't bother to process what had just happened. He was to busy suffering from a major lack of money wasting and, if he didn't get some cash, he'd be an utter mess by the end of the night. He could always swipe a few coins from some other people at the party - half of them were so drunk that they required the machines and stools to help keep them on their feet - but, in his hissy fit, he didn't even stop to think about that possibility. So, instead, he moped, feeling his forehead collide with the machine with much more ferocity each time. In other words, he hit it hard with every swing of his head. A tiny click caught his ears as he watched the probably old machine's slots move slightly in responce to his unrelenting attack. Well, there was an idea. Smack it until it gave him money.
Smiling suddenly at the idea, he threw himself at the machine, successful catching the attention of those around him - and a headache - but not managing to line anything up. Actually, he noticed, they hadn't moved in the slightest. Groaning again, the male pounded his fists against it lightly, not wanted to inflict any further injuries to himself, and let out yet another exaggerated groan. Tonight was just not his night, was it? Nope. It wasn't. And, in addition, he was to busy wallowing in self pity to actually get off his lazy butt and go do something about it. However, the bar at the far side of the casino did catch his attention and, within moments, the green-haired male was stumbling over for a drink. What an idiot he was. Like any of those drinks were actually going to be free. If he didn't have money to play at the slot machines, there was no possible way he'd be able to afford a drink. Pukish green colored eyes glanced at a small sign that said "FREE ICED WATER" and wondered if they could throw any alcohal in there for him. Upon asking, he was laughed at to the face and booted back to moaning and groaning in a heartbeat. No water for him, it seemed. So what was he going to do?
Alva's head turned and his track of sight locked onto a dark haired man - right? That was a man, right? That pony-tail was throwing him off, that was for certain... Of course, he wasn't exactly Sir Manly Man, king of manliness. Just don't let him know that. - who bumped into a few of the gambles and swiped what they'd earned from the games. Anger began to raise in his throat for two reason, neither one of them being that actual thefts themselves. One? How the heck did these idiots manage to win anything? He'd been a gambler ever since he got away from his parent's iron grip and he usually didn't win squat! Second, why hadn't he thought of doing that earlier? Becayse he was clumsy and would fail miserably? Yeah, probably that. Not like he'd accept either of those statements, though. Deciding to waste someone else's money - he was still to lazy to go get his own - the man rolled up his orange sleeves and started slowly walking through the building, lloking for a good victim for his next little "crime". Instead of coming to them, though, they seemed to come to him. And, better yet, it was a girl. And a cute one, none the less.
"I'm a winner!"
The cry rang out throughout the building from the top of someone's lungs and, for another split second, he was bitter about not be able to win himself all over again. However, he'd be able to win once he grabbed a handful of her jackpot, however much it was. If it was a lot, she probably wouldn't even notice that any of it was - "Holy Miltank, what the heck?" the male gasped as he caught sight of the coins spilling from the pink-haired girl's pockets. Did he say a handful? I'm sorry, I think he meant five. With that, the female slipped into the crowd of people at the other end of the room for whatever reason - first win, maybe? Afraid of someone beating her up and stealing her prize? Seemed fair enough. - and he stuggled to follow her from a safe distance. He didn't want to be one of those creepers that followed people around and begged for money. That was low for even someone like him. Maybe cmall talk, then swiping her coins while she wasn't looking? Yeah, that seemed about right...
"Oh, hey!" Alva called, clasping her shoulder with his girlish hands and falling into step with her. "You must have won big, huh? Congrats!"