Post by Deleted on Aug 1, 2015 16:04:21 GMT -5
Name: Nyx
Age: 45 moons
Gender: she-cat
Clan: none
Rank: Rogue
Picture:
Description:
Nyx is a very plain looking cat in most respects. She is average sized, not lanky, not overly muscular, not tall or short. Her pelt is mainly jet black in coloration, save a small white marking on her chest. Her fur is short. However, there are also a few rather memorable things about Nyx. For one, her left eye is a pale, misty blue with no hint of a pupil, completely clouded over and blind from an injury she sustained from a fox attack as a kit. She bears pale scars on the left side of her face from the same attack. Her short, plain fur is most often matted with dried blood and the stench of death precedes her wherever she goes.
Description Summary:
A short furred black she-cat with a white marking on her chest, one amber-green eye and one misty blind eye.
Personality:
Nyx is broken on a very deep level. She is at her happiest when surrounded by blood and death. She purrs like a kitten whilst curled up on the entails of her latest prey. That scent which most cats flee from she embraces as a fine perfume. She is remarkably eccentric, even if you ignore her love of gore. When she speaks, she often makes no sense at all, as if she is speaking with someone else, someone unseen. She sees no one, however. Nyx is not in the least schizophrenic. She often talks to herself as well, most often alone. Who would stay long around a cat like her?
She at times seems remarkably arrogant, for she seems to fear no cat, or really anything else for that matter… except foxes. She is terrified of foxes, and for good reason. At the vaguest scent of fox she will turn the complete opposite direction and run until she collapses in a whimpering heap. She seems to have her only lucid moments, when you can catch a glimpse of the old her, in these times, reliving the deaths of those she loves. She keeps herself distant from other felines now, believing that any cat she gets close to will be killed in the same way as her parents, her siblings, her mate, her kits. A fox will find them… she swears one follows her wherever she goes, just out of sight, out of scent range, waiting for the next cat she loves to make a meal of it. She is incredibly paranoid and will often jump and look about wildly for seemingly no reason.
History:
Nyx’s life began fairly normally for a loner. Her parents were young and in love and happy about their first litter of kits. They had a nice sheltered cave in the mountains to live in and both parents were decent hunters so hunger wasn’t particularly an issue, especially not during the greenleaf she was born during. Weather was fair and prey was plentiful. She had a brother and a sister to play with. It was great beginning for the young family. However, it wasn’t to last. At nearly 3 moons old, her whole life took a turn for the worst.
A pair of foxes found their sheltered den. Nyx was playing outside with her siblings when they struck the innocent kits. One of the foxes grabbed Nyx by the head and she screamed in pain as sharp teeth punctured an eye, tore into her face. Suddenly, before the strength of the fox’s jaws could crush her small head, she was released. Her parents had come to the rescue, her father ramming into the fox’s side, screeching fury, while her mother gathered up her poor wounded kit and pushed her toward the den, toward safety. The other fox had already killed her sister, whose tiny broken body lay in a heap as the fox dropped it to face a furious, grief-stricken mother.
Her brother tried to push her into the den ahead of him, but the fox that had wounded Nyx had gotten away from their father and leapt in front of the two frightened kits, blocking the den entrance and snapping her brother up with a sickening crunch. Nyx crouched before the monster, wailing in pain and fear, before her father thrust her away, shouting for her hide. She stumbled to her very best hide and seek spot, a little niche in the rockpile near their den. It was hard to squeeze into but it opened up a bit farther back and there was more room. She curled up at the back of her hiding spot, mewling in pain and fear.
She listened to her parents fighting the monsters as she continued to lose blood, listened to their terrible shrieks of pain. Then the monsters followed her scent and mewling to her hiding spot. They tried to reach in with long paws to grab at her but she used what little strength she had left to swat them with needle sharp kitten claws. They tried digging to get at her but the ground was too hard and eventually they gave up and left her alone. It was then she heard the crunching and tearing noises. It sounded like when her parents ate mice, except louder….
When all sounds had stopped, she weakly crawled from her hiding spot to where her parents remains lay. A horrifying scene splayed out before her. Her siblings were nowhere to be seen, having been eaten completely by the foxes, but her parents entrails and blood seemed to be everywhere to the young kit. They were hardly even recognizable. She curled up beside her mother’s head, too weak to move any longer, and blacked out. When she woke, she found herself in a soft nest in her family den. For an instant she thought she had simply had a horrible nightmare. Then the pain hit her.
She wailed and writhed until a strong but gentle paw laid over her side, “Be calm, little one. You are safe now.” With her good eye, she had looked up to see her savior; a golden tabby tom. She shrank back, fearful at first, but he simply gave her a gentle lick between the ears, reassuring and laid beside her, “You must rest. You lost a lot of blood. I’ve made a basic poultice for you to help keep out infection while you heal and stopped the blood with cobwebs, but I’m afraid I can’t do much more. The rest is up to you little one.”
She stared blankly at him. What did he mean by that?
He pushed a mouse toward her then and told her to eat. She had only just been starting to eat meat like her mother and father, but she tore into it ravenously.
The golden tom took care of her after that and she learned quickly that it was okay to trust him. His name was Sunny and as soon as she was healed the two began traveling together. Whenever they met an injured cat, Sunny would stop to help them. She was rather amazed by his knowledge but he assured her that he really didn’t know all that much about healing, just a few basic things his mother had taught him, things that had been passed down from mother to kits for quite a while in her family.
Sunny taught her hunt properly, and how to fight. She was even more amazed by how skilled he seemed to be at fighting. For a cat who liked to help injured cats, he sure knew how to injure others. He wasn’t even a particularly big cat, average really, but when another cat they came across wasn’t too friendly he could always fight them off. He was amazing in everything he did.
Even with her misted, lost eye, Sunny still called her beautiful. The two fell in love and had kits of their own. But it seemed Nyx was not destined for a happy family. And again, a fox was to be her undoing. Her kits nearly two moons old, Nyx had wanted to stretch her legs, having been unable to leave them for very long until recently. Upon her return to their den, the scent of blood and death was overwhelming. And fox. Fox scent was everywhere. She crept forward, terror coursing through her as memories of her parents, her siblings, the fox attack, all came rushing back. There, her mate, torn apart just as her parents had been. Nothing but blood stains remained of her kits.
Something in her mind snapped that day. She played in her mate’s remains like a kit might play in mud. She became fascinated by that which resided within every creature she came across. Each piece of prey was dissected, torn apart, entrails scattered. She ate but little, leaving bits and pieces of everything she caught strewn about everywhere she went. She rolled in it, covering herself in the scent of death and blood. It was the only thing that still connected her to those she loved, her very last memories of them.
Age: 45 moons
Gender: she-cat
Clan: none
Rank: Rogue
Picture:
Description:
Nyx is a very plain looking cat in most respects. She is average sized, not lanky, not overly muscular, not tall or short. Her pelt is mainly jet black in coloration, save a small white marking on her chest. Her fur is short. However, there are also a few rather memorable things about Nyx. For one, her left eye is a pale, misty blue with no hint of a pupil, completely clouded over and blind from an injury she sustained from a fox attack as a kit. She bears pale scars on the left side of her face from the same attack. Her short, plain fur is most often matted with dried blood and the stench of death precedes her wherever she goes.
Description Summary:
A short furred black she-cat with a white marking on her chest, one amber-green eye and one misty blind eye.
Personality:
Nyx is broken on a very deep level. She is at her happiest when surrounded by blood and death. She purrs like a kitten whilst curled up on the entails of her latest prey. That scent which most cats flee from she embraces as a fine perfume. She is remarkably eccentric, even if you ignore her love of gore. When she speaks, she often makes no sense at all, as if she is speaking with someone else, someone unseen. She sees no one, however. Nyx is not in the least schizophrenic. She often talks to herself as well, most often alone. Who would stay long around a cat like her?
She at times seems remarkably arrogant, for she seems to fear no cat, or really anything else for that matter… except foxes. She is terrified of foxes, and for good reason. At the vaguest scent of fox she will turn the complete opposite direction and run until she collapses in a whimpering heap. She seems to have her only lucid moments, when you can catch a glimpse of the old her, in these times, reliving the deaths of those she loves. She keeps herself distant from other felines now, believing that any cat she gets close to will be killed in the same way as her parents, her siblings, her mate, her kits. A fox will find them… she swears one follows her wherever she goes, just out of sight, out of scent range, waiting for the next cat she loves to make a meal of it. She is incredibly paranoid and will often jump and look about wildly for seemingly no reason.
History:
Nyx’s life began fairly normally for a loner. Her parents were young and in love and happy about their first litter of kits. They had a nice sheltered cave in the mountains to live in and both parents were decent hunters so hunger wasn’t particularly an issue, especially not during the greenleaf she was born during. Weather was fair and prey was plentiful. She had a brother and a sister to play with. It was great beginning for the young family. However, it wasn’t to last. At nearly 3 moons old, her whole life took a turn for the worst.
A pair of foxes found their sheltered den. Nyx was playing outside with her siblings when they struck the innocent kits. One of the foxes grabbed Nyx by the head and she screamed in pain as sharp teeth punctured an eye, tore into her face. Suddenly, before the strength of the fox’s jaws could crush her small head, she was released. Her parents had come to the rescue, her father ramming into the fox’s side, screeching fury, while her mother gathered up her poor wounded kit and pushed her toward the den, toward safety. The other fox had already killed her sister, whose tiny broken body lay in a heap as the fox dropped it to face a furious, grief-stricken mother.
Her brother tried to push her into the den ahead of him, but the fox that had wounded Nyx had gotten away from their father and leapt in front of the two frightened kits, blocking the den entrance and snapping her brother up with a sickening crunch. Nyx crouched before the monster, wailing in pain and fear, before her father thrust her away, shouting for her hide. She stumbled to her very best hide and seek spot, a little niche in the rockpile near their den. It was hard to squeeze into but it opened up a bit farther back and there was more room. She curled up at the back of her hiding spot, mewling in pain and fear.
She listened to her parents fighting the monsters as she continued to lose blood, listened to their terrible shrieks of pain. Then the monsters followed her scent and mewling to her hiding spot. They tried to reach in with long paws to grab at her but she used what little strength she had left to swat them with needle sharp kitten claws. They tried digging to get at her but the ground was too hard and eventually they gave up and left her alone. It was then she heard the crunching and tearing noises. It sounded like when her parents ate mice, except louder….
When all sounds had stopped, she weakly crawled from her hiding spot to where her parents remains lay. A horrifying scene splayed out before her. Her siblings were nowhere to be seen, having been eaten completely by the foxes, but her parents entrails and blood seemed to be everywhere to the young kit. They were hardly even recognizable. She curled up beside her mother’s head, too weak to move any longer, and blacked out. When she woke, she found herself in a soft nest in her family den. For an instant she thought she had simply had a horrible nightmare. Then the pain hit her.
She wailed and writhed until a strong but gentle paw laid over her side, “Be calm, little one. You are safe now.” With her good eye, she had looked up to see her savior; a golden tabby tom. She shrank back, fearful at first, but he simply gave her a gentle lick between the ears, reassuring and laid beside her, “You must rest. You lost a lot of blood. I’ve made a basic poultice for you to help keep out infection while you heal and stopped the blood with cobwebs, but I’m afraid I can’t do much more. The rest is up to you little one.”
She stared blankly at him. What did he mean by that?
He pushed a mouse toward her then and told her to eat. She had only just been starting to eat meat like her mother and father, but she tore into it ravenously.
The golden tom took care of her after that and she learned quickly that it was okay to trust him. His name was Sunny and as soon as she was healed the two began traveling together. Whenever they met an injured cat, Sunny would stop to help them. She was rather amazed by his knowledge but he assured her that he really didn’t know all that much about healing, just a few basic things his mother had taught him, things that had been passed down from mother to kits for quite a while in her family.
Sunny taught her hunt properly, and how to fight. She was even more amazed by how skilled he seemed to be at fighting. For a cat who liked to help injured cats, he sure knew how to injure others. He wasn’t even a particularly big cat, average really, but when another cat they came across wasn’t too friendly he could always fight them off. He was amazing in everything he did.
Even with her misted, lost eye, Sunny still called her beautiful. The two fell in love and had kits of their own. But it seemed Nyx was not destined for a happy family. And again, a fox was to be her undoing. Her kits nearly two moons old, Nyx had wanted to stretch her legs, having been unable to leave them for very long until recently. Upon her return to their den, the scent of blood and death was overwhelming. And fox. Fox scent was everywhere. She crept forward, terror coursing through her as memories of her parents, her siblings, the fox attack, all came rushing back. There, her mate, torn apart just as her parents had been. Nothing but blood stains remained of her kits.
Something in her mind snapped that day. She played in her mate’s remains like a kit might play in mud. She became fascinated by that which resided within every creature she came across. Each piece of prey was dissected, torn apart, entrails scattered. She ate but little, leaving bits and pieces of everything she caught strewn about everywhere she went. She rolled in it, covering herself in the scent of death and blood. It was the only thing that still connected her to those she loved, her very last memories of them.