Post by ::Key::Lime/\RainyC:: on Mar 30, 2010 9:56:34 GMT -5
Name:: Talon
Gender:: Tom
Age:: 36 Moons
Clan/ Group:: Rogue
Postion:: um...R-ogue?
Description::
I am a dark brown tabby tom with battle scarred ears and amber/green eyes. My whiskers are whitened with age and yes, I have a collar. I used to be a kittypet but I'm not anymore. It's green..
Personality::
I am a short tempered tom with no end to blood lust. I am one of the oldest surviving rogues and when you ask me for advice, I might just give it to you, depending if I like you or not. Oh yeah and if you make a sly remark about my collar, I'm going to turn your throat inside out. I am a trained fighting cat and I will give you an up-close and personal talk with my claws. My claws are thick and yellowed from over-use, but that makes them strong. I'm just telling you to stay out of my way because I have had the worst life you could ever ask for and I don't want to be bothered about much. Oh yes and for any of you clan cats out there who think your so tough that you can chase me out of your territory, think again. I won't bother you, much.
Family::
Mother :: Danice Father :: Jerome
History::
I was born a barn cat, the biggest and the strongest of my litter in fact, the rest of my litter died at birth, but I didn't. I was strong and ready to fight death if it came my way. Barn life was easy, but I didn't live it for long. When I was four months old the farmers let some big husky stranger come and take me away. He brought me to this terrible place full of rusty old cages. In the caged were crazed, deranged cats who growled and hissed at me and the man as we moved past him. This was my home for two years. In those two years I was taught how to fight, defend and destroy. I was a fighting cat. Not to protect my owners (if I had any) but to battle with other cats, other animals, for their entertainment. It was like dogfights, except with cats and other animals. Those days were confusing, one day I was in my cage, the next I was in a big semi-truck and the next I was in a strange place, killing another strange cat. My owner told me I had a gift, a killing gift but I knew I could do more, so one day, while he was opening my cage to take me to another strange place, I jumped and ran. I ran and ran and ran. I don't know how long I ran, but I did and when I got to the rogues junkyard, I knew that this is where I belonged. I belonged with power-hungry, blood-thirsty killers who didn't give a ...... mouse pellet...... about rules. Then I found the clans, and what fun they are to torment.
Gender:: Tom
Age:: 36 Moons
Clan/ Group:: Rogue
Postion:: um...R-ogue?
Description::
I am a dark brown tabby tom with battle scarred ears and amber/green eyes. My whiskers are whitened with age and yes, I have a collar. I used to be a kittypet but I'm not anymore. It's green..
Personality::
I am a short tempered tom with no end to blood lust. I am one of the oldest surviving rogues and when you ask me for advice, I might just give it to you, depending if I like you or not. Oh yeah and if you make a sly remark about my collar, I'm going to turn your throat inside out. I am a trained fighting cat and I will give you an up-close and personal talk with my claws. My claws are thick and yellowed from over-use, but that makes them strong. I'm just telling you to stay out of my way because I have had the worst life you could ever ask for and I don't want to be bothered about much. Oh yes and for any of you clan cats out there who think your so tough that you can chase me out of your territory, think again. I won't bother you, much.
Family::
Mother :: Danice Father :: Jerome
History::
I was born a barn cat, the biggest and the strongest of my litter in fact, the rest of my litter died at birth, but I didn't. I was strong and ready to fight death if it came my way. Barn life was easy, but I didn't live it for long. When I was four months old the farmers let some big husky stranger come and take me away. He brought me to this terrible place full of rusty old cages. In the caged were crazed, deranged cats who growled and hissed at me and the man as we moved past him. This was my home for two years. In those two years I was taught how to fight, defend and destroy. I was a fighting cat. Not to protect my owners (if I had any) but to battle with other cats, other animals, for their entertainment. It was like dogfights, except with cats and other animals. Those days were confusing, one day I was in my cage, the next I was in a big semi-truck and the next I was in a strange place, killing another strange cat. My owner told me I had a gift, a killing gift but I knew I could do more, so one day, while he was opening my cage to take me to another strange place, I jumped and ran. I ran and ran and ran. I don't know how long I ran, but I did and when I got to the rogues junkyard, I knew that this is where I belonged. I belonged with power-hungry, blood-thirsty killers who didn't give a ...... mouse pellet...... about rules. Then I found the clans, and what fun they are to torment.
|Approved||: