Post by arsenic on Jun 10, 2012 18:00:21 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=width,100][atrb=style,padding:10px;border-right:1px solid #ffffff;] [style=border:1px solid #ffffff;background-color:#54446E;width:100px;height:100px;padding:8px;]  [/style][style=border-right:10px solid #FFfFFF;background-color:#54446E;padding:4px 10px 3px 0px;font-family:courier new;color:#C09BFC;text-align:right;font-size:10px;letter-spacing:1px;margin-bottom:3px;]NONE[/style][style=border-right:10px solid #ffffff;background-color:#54446E;padding:4px 10px 3px 0px;font-family:courier new;color:#C09BFC;text-align:right;font-size:10px;letter-spacing:1px;margin-bottom:3px;]SHE-CAT[/style][style=border-right:10px solid #ffffff;background-color:#54446E;padding:4px 10px 3px 0px;font-family:courier new;color:#C09BFC;text-align:right;font-size:10px;letter-spacing:1px;margin-bottom:3px;]FORTY-SIX MOONS[/style][style=border-right:10px solid #ffffff;background-color:#54446E;padding:4px 10px 3px 0px;font-family:courier new;color:#C09BFC;text-align:right;font-size:10px;letter-spacing:1px;margin-bottom:3px;]ROGUE[/style] [style=border-right:10px solid #FFfFFF;background-color:#54446E;padding:4px 10px 3px 0px;font-family:courier new;color:#C09BFC;text-align:right;font-size:10px;letter-spacing:1px;margin-bottom:3px;]PICTURE[/style] | [atrb=width,400][atrb=style,padding:10px;][style=font-family: courier new; font-size: 24px;letter-spacing:-2px; text-align:center;border-bottom:1px solid #ffffff;line-height:85%;color:#C09BFC;]MAVERICK[/style][style=font-family:Arial Narrow;font-size:10px;text-align:center;margin-top:0px;letter-spacing:0px;color:#FFFFFF;]A FOREST DIVIDED[/style] [style=margin:-20px 30px 10px 30px;text-align:justify;font-family:tahoma;font-size:10px;text-transform:lowercase;color:#8e8e8e;line-height:13px;]Short Appearance skinny three-legged tortoiseshell she-cat with pale yellow eyes Appearance small. Ah, the dainty she-cat. Tiny paws that span no larger than a quarter, with neatly curved claws that come to a sharp, narrow but deadly point. Thin, weak looking legs branch out from her tiny paws, except for one. Lost at a young age, the she-cat thrives even without the presence of her right hind leg. Possibly due to this, the she-cats left hind leg appears to be longer than her dainty front ones. However, it doesn't seem to add any height to her unimpressive stature, it merely makes her look awkward. An injury when she was young left her ribs crooked, and as a result, her chest looks sunken. Malnutrition for the first two years of her life, has cursed her with a skeletal appearance, spine visible through her pelt and her skin hanging loosely over every inch of her body. dishevelled. to make matters worse with this dainty little femme, nothing about her is pretty. the coat that covers her misshaped body, is that of a tortoiseshell, but it does not hold the majestic beauty that it once did. dull, and muted, the colours are not sharp, and give her a muddled appearance. the black that hosts the multi-colors of a tortie is not lustrous in any way; it is dusty and always looks dirty despite the number of times she cleans it. due to this, the other tones and highlights also appear less than bright. if the dirty appearance of her pelt wasn't bad enough, bare patches are clearly visible on her haunches. these bare spots show ugly scars that never properly healed, and grotesque lumps under her skin due to the improperly healed wounds from her younger days. her pelt is also very coarse, and short. her face is mostly black, except for brown patches over top of each of her eyes and a brown stripe down the left side of her black nose, and small spots of brown flecking her cheeks and maw. enticing. everyone has to have at least one redeeming feature, right? well, in some ways maverick has been shown some mercy when it comes to one feature on her entire body: her eyes. though dull green, they hold every emotion that she has ever felt for any other cat to gaze upon. one thing she has never been good at is hiding her emotions and eventually she just stopped trying. if you do happen to look past her ugly pelt, and body, and took the chance to gaze into her eyes, you are in for a wild ride. they aren't your average, beautiful breath taking eyes. no, they are on the different side of spectrum entirely. they take your breath away, but not in the way that many want. they are cold, and so full emotion that just one look can leave you scared out of your wits. it isn't unusual for cats to run away at the mere sight of these green eyes. many just never look into them. Personality cheery. some might think with an appearance such as hers, she would be miserable all the time. but, she is the exact opposite. maverick has learned for the most part, to live with what she looks like, and if someone doesn't like it, she doesn't really mind. this grants her happiness, or a very guarded, almost fake happiness that she passes off as 'cheery'. she walks around with a smile on her unfortunate looking face, and speaks in a happy tone, and carries herself thusly. she is pleasant to talk to, and would gladly hold a conversation with anyone, regardless of rank, living conditions, personality, age, gender, what have you. however, she isn't classified as an optimist, she is just merely a cheerful cat. well, most of the time. unpredictable. like any cat that has been through what she has been through, sometimes she can be a little bit, scary. her moods can change at the flick of an ear, and the consequences can be rather unsettling. both her actions and moods are affected by her past, and she has been known to lash out for no apparent reason, and without any kind of likely cause. she is not mentally stable in any stretch of the imagination which leaves her as being dangerous in most situations, whether it be mid conversation, or out in the forest hunting. no one knows what she might do, and neither does she. her mood swings, and angry outbursts are not something she can control, though she wishes that she could. sharp-tongued. for as long as she can remember, she has always been able to dish out the insults, and has never been afraid to either, for that matter. sometimes she does it as a joke, but if she really doesn't like you, she is most likely doing it because she is trying to hurt your feelings or to get you to leave her the heck alone. her words are cutting, and accompanied with the looks of a cat that has lost their marbles, it can be pretty unnerving. maverick has also never been afraid to speak whats on her mind and if she wants to defend it, or thinks you are a complete mouse brain she will spit out insults as fast as her slick tongue will deliver them. if she hurts your feelings, she doesn't care. she never got an apology, why should you? skittish. because of the abuse in her past, maverick is very cautious and unknown noises, and voices scare the pelt right off of her. also, any kind of movement towards her, whether friendly or hostile will cause her to flinch violently and make her pelt stand on end. she's not necessarily scared of being hit, but she just expects it and acts accordingly. any sign of two-legs causes her to run, and she will do so until she is sure she is safe. funny, because she never feels safe. she is aware of everything around her, and even though she doesn't want to admit it, she is fearful of everything. she will freeze in fear at the soft call of a songbird, or the mewl of a little kitten. History Cold, blistering air touched the pure skin of the newborn tortoiseshell. Eyes and ears shut, the ugliness of the world around her unable to penetrate her young impressionable mind, her jaws parted in an loud, longing mewl for someone, anyone to warm her. Salvation came very shortly, as the hot, coarse fur of the cat she would come to know as her mother tucked her in close to her swollen teats, and the little kitten suckled. The rough tongue of her mother found its way to her little shivering body and with the practiced strokes of a cat that had done it many times before, began cleaning the small femme, and warming her. For the first time, Maverick experienced the sensation of being safe. Days passed, and soon her eyes opened to take in the area around her. Square, cold, metal cages lined the walls of the small white room. Confusion and interest comingled in her mind until her ears branched out to experience the sounds of her home. She wished she was deaf; ignorant to the distressed yowls, the desperate mewls of dying kits, and the angry calls of two-legs. All around her smelled of disease, feces and urine. Her mother kept her close to her body, kept her clean and warm, polar opposite to the cage in which she was born in. To her uneducated mind, it fascinated her, but scared her at the same time. Was this how all cats were born and raised? In these things her mother’s called cages and brought up by those big beasts that were referred to as Two-Legs? She would soon enough learn the truth. A month passed, and with it, so did her mother. The old, frail, sick she-cat had recently been force bred to produce more of her beautiful kittens, but it caused her demise. Maverick grieved for the loss of her mother, and was soon granted three new cage mates: a rag doll named Camilla, a diluted calico named Jasper, and an old, blind, pretty maine coon named August. Each of the she-cat's had been in the building their whole lives, born, rose, and bred. August had had a total of 13 litters, before she became injured beyond repair. She had told the young tortie many times that she wished for death, but the two-legs never gave her, her wish. Camilla hated everyone, and everything, and it caused her to be miserable and hostile all the time. Jasper was quiet, never meowed, or yowled, she just simply existed in what Camilla told her was the Kitten Mill. Maverick asked her if there were cats that lived outside, and was shocked to find out that there were cats outside of the forsaken place. There were cats that lived in the forest, and cats that lived in large two-leg homes. From that moment on, the kitten was determined to live in the forest, free from the cold, dank cages. When Maverick was six months old, she was placed in a cage with kits the same age as her, none of which were born in the Mill. The tortie never bothered to learn their names, it just caused her to grow attached, and that wasn't something you wanted to do in a place like that. With each passing moon in the kitten mill, Maverick grew more closed off to everything that happened and more snappy. Her mood swings became more and more frequently, and she grew very hostile, much like poor Camilla. The young she-cat was becoming sicker and sicker, her already thin frame becoming skeletal and sickly. Stricken with malnutrition and slowly losing her mind, she went into heat, exactly what the two-legs were waiting for. She was put into a cage with three males: a massive tom with a sleek coat, a slightly smaller tom with pretty eyes, and a third one who was smaller than both and younger. Each of them treated her like a piece of meat. Maverick didn't know what was going on, she never knew what was going on. When it came time for them to mate, Maverick refused and therefore fought them. They nearly ripped the poor kitten apart. They three male cats managed to crush her ribs, damage her left hind leg beyond repair, and tear her hind end apart. Unable to heal her, the owners of the kitten mill tossed her outside to die. Unable to move, and covered in blood, Maverick laid her head down on the ground and as her breathing slowed, she accepted that she would die. Death was no enemy to the little femme, she welcomed it gladly. Upon waking, she found herself lying on a soft bed, with a bowl of food and water near the door. Confused and scared Maverick tried to stand up, but soon found herself falling back down upon her bed. Horror struck her when she looked down and seen a bandage over where her leg used to be. Her scared yowl rang out through the clean smelling room, and more shock hit her when she heard the response of other cats telling her to be quiet so that they could sleep. Forcing herself to stand up, she hit the bed again and this time her yowls increased in magnitude as searing pain coursed through her lithe, frail body. A two-leg dressed in white, and long black hair appeared at her cage and as the hand reached in to touch her, Maverick hissed and lashed out ripping the two-leg open. The hand retreated, but Maverick stayed pressed against the back wall of her cage, her tiny heart pounding against her mangled rib cage. The mending process for the kitten took awhile, but after about six months, she was walking on her three legs perfectly. The physiotherapy to get the she-cat to walk again was painful and Maverick objected loudly at first, but once the other cats in the clinic told her they were trying to help, she was a little more open to the idea of these two legs helping her. She also learned how to talk to the other felines in a civil manner, and when she told herself that she could trust them, she asked them why she was here. The one cat, a tom who she didn't recognize until he spoke, told her what happened. The night that she had lost consciousness, two-legs showed up to the kitten mill and started seizing any animals they could get their hands on. It wasn't very many, before the two legs that ran the kitten mills started making loud noises, and producing putrid smells from long, scary looking things they held in their paws. He told her that she was already in the monster when their cages were thrown in. Maverick hated the thought that she was saved by two-legs, and that the cat that told her was one of the toms that had almost caused her death. After learning this, she let herself be petted, and she felt herself growing accustomed to the idea of living with two-legs. Soon after she became warmer towards the two-legs, she was sent to an animal shelter where she was sure to find someone to take her. Luckily for her, it didn't take long before a bleeding heart couple seen the three legged she-cat with the tantalizing green eyes. At 26 moons, she had finally found a home, and once again felt safe. Shortly into her life with the two-legs, a new member joined the family: a baby. With all their attention on the new born baby, Maverick found herself feeling jealous and ignored. When she tried to see the baby, she would be shooed, and locked out of the room where she would yowl in protest at her exclusion from her family. However, after about a month, the older two legs let the she-cat into the baby’s room. The baby was cute, and seemed harmless, at least as far as two-legs could go in the way of being harmless. But there was a problem with the baby; a severe allergy to cats. Maverick couldn't even enter the little tykes’ room without him swelling up like a balloon and them making an emergency trip to the hospital. Despite their love for their three legged cat, they put her up for adoption. Unfortunately, not everyone is keen on having a three legged burden on their hands. Since they didn't want to put her down, and they couldn't keep her, they make the tough decision of taking her out to the forest and dumping her. On her own again. Abandoned by the people she loved, Maverick didn't even bother to try and find her way back to her home. She quickly realized that living out in the wild wasn't as glorious as August has told her. It was quiet, dangerous, and difficult. So extremely difficult. Having lived with two-legs or in captivity her whole life, she was never taught how to hunt or fight, but she knew if she wanted to survive, she would have to learn. At 35 moons, she had to learn how to live again. She couldn't wake up in the morning and walk to a bowl full of food, and a toilet full of fresh clean water for her to drink; she couldn't go to her soft bed and curl up to sleep. No, she had to teach herself to hunt, where to find water and find a safe place to sleep. Hunting was tricky at first; it was hard trying not to make noise when you only have three legs to work with instead of four. Soon, however, she got the hang of it. By keeping low to the ground, she could minimize the sound her hind leg made when it came up to meet her front paws. She isn't the quietest hunter, but she makes it work. Having never fought before in her life, other than when she was a kitten, Maverick found and still finds difficulty in fighting and keeping her balance while fighting. She isn't hopeless though, and she has won fights before between other cats, but more often than not she would flee from confrontations if her quick witted mind couldn't get her out of the situation. Watching the she-cat try and fight at first was a lot of falling, and awkwardness, and any watching parties might even find humour in it. However, if she could get her claws hooked into them, she would use that to her advantage and claw the fur right off of the opposing cat with her powerful hind leg. With this in mind though, Maverick never liked to fight. She would much rather run and hide then experience the pain that fighting brings. The skills she had developed in the eight moons she had been a rogue, made her a force to be reckoned with. Maverick had put forth raids on a Clan before -RiverClan- as she favoured the taste of fish above all other prey the wilderness has to offer, but gladly stayed clear of the other Clans, particularly ThunderClan. However, during one of her solo raids, she came across a large, neatly groomed kitty-pet tom with a pretty tongue and even prettier eyes. Pretty eyes that she remembered; clear blue, with hints of green around the iris. Stricken with fear, and pain from the arising memories, she was unable to move and after looking at her for a few moments, who she was clicked in his slow mind. Maverick immediately knew it clicked when a dark smile overtook his handsome features and his eyebrow cocked at the sight of her. "So you did survive, eh? Well, well, you're not as pretty as you used to be, but who cares about looks?" He left her on the bank of the ravine, bleeding and empty. In her weak state, she lost the kittens. Despite the circumstances of her becoming pregnant, she has never fully gotten over the loss of her unborn kittens. As of right now, her home is a small hole in a spruce tree along the ShadowClan border, but far enough outside of it that her scent doesn't usually cause suspicion. Roleplay Sample see embermist & crimsonfire[/style][style=font-family:Arial Narrow;font-size:10px;text-align:center;margin-top:0px;letter-spacing:0px;color:#FFFFFF;]CODED BY RAIN OF ON THE EDGE![/style] |
