Post by Hellion on Apr 15, 2019 23:53:55 GMT -5
I'm sorry for the person I became
I'm sorry that it took so long for me to change
Name: Snarl of Black Hound
Age: Thirty-six moons
Gender: Tom / Heterosexual
Alligence: Tribe of Forgotten Water
Rank: Cave-Guard
Picture: link
Description Summary: A black thick-furred tom with silver-blue eyes
Description: A broad and well-built tom-cat. Hound takes after his mother in coat color only. His thick fur and striking features gifted from his father. Generations of living in the mountains have aided Hound in keeping warm even during the heaviest of snowfalls. Additionally, the tomcat can hide the variety of scars that dorn his body. Flecks of white fur can be seen throughout the bulk of his black fur, alluding to locations of deep-set scars.
Of average size for a cave-guard, Hound at a young age towered over his relatively petite mother. Due to his size and training, Hound is aware of his size. Careful when around smaller cats or imposing when confronted by an enemy. Hound remains ready and able to use his size to his advantage, capable of protecting those in his care.
Unafraid to throw his weight around, Hound seemingly singular 'soft feature' remains his eyes. So blue they appear almost silver, they easily give away his emotions. Hound has to actively think about them to avoid expressing too much by accident. He prefers a stoic expression, mindful to maintain it no matter the situation. While the mask does slip, it does so around those he cares deeply about or during flux of heavy emotions he can't quite manage right away.
Personality: Before the death of Fox, Hound came off as eager to please and curious about the world. The idea of being a legend within the tribe was enough to motivate him to get up early each day or stay late at a guard post. Hound wanted nothing more but to make his parents proud. Even if that meant exhaustion took over to the point he’d sleep sitting up.
Since Fox's death, Hound is careful. Mindful of his actions and wary of those he considers 'under his care'. Devoted to the Tribe way of life and having a deep love for the Tribe as a whole. Hound continues to struggle with the guilt of Fox's death.
The idea that some in the Tribe fears him or hate him is enough to make him uneasy. Even tense as times. Having matured since his youth, Hound is mindful of his emotions to the point he appears flat, even painfully stoic. The last time he expressed his emotions someone died.
Hound has a profound fear of his emotions. He tries his hardest to keep things bottled up, in his eyes, it is safer that way.
History: One of the few cats born in their old home. Hound was given his name by his mother to calm her fears of the creature. Hounds were rarely spotted in the forest but when they were up-walkers often joined them. The sounds of angry thunder adding to the chaos of their arrivals in the forest. The young single tomcat became the light of his parent's lives.
Both Thorn and Night were first-time parents. They doted on their son. Hound's kit hood was mostly uneventful, he toyed with kits his age. Pestered elders for attention and often tried to venture out with his father when he went for guard duty. Curious about the world, as most kits are, Hound respected his parents nonetheless. Preferring their praise as opposed to their lectures when he rarely misbehaved.
Thorn's pride grew when his son was chosen to be guided by Thorn's old guide, Claw. Thorn insisted he helped Hound build his nest near the other cave-guards. Night returning to her nest with the prey-hunter. Proud of her son moving on to finding his true place within the tribe.
Hound occupied himself as most to-be did, learning what they could. Sparring with Claw and learning the ropes of what was expected of him, Hound learned quickly. Eager to prove to his parents that he was a capable young tom. When praised the young tom-cat's cheeks would flush and his ears twitch. He appreciated the praise but found it difficult to take it when told directly opposed to hearing it second hand.
During this time Hound made friends with Tail of Red Fox, a tom-cat close in age to Hound. The two of them became thick as thieves. Fox had been chosen to be a prey-hunter, but the duo remained close. Relying on their close friendship during their kit days.
It changed one day when Hound overheard Fox talking with a few cats generally not well-liked. They were a rough sort, known for radical ideas that failed to fit in the mold of tribe life. Many seemed better suited to the life of a rogue or loner. They spoke of breaking off from the group. Claiming that their current Stoneteller was lying. Hound, a moderately spiritual cat had spoken to his friend on the side. Curious why Fox felt Stoneteller was lying. A few heated words and foul names broke the friendship apart. Hound growing wary of his former best friend and that Hound considered to be threats to their way of life.
As the tribe's safety and health in their became compromised with a cave in. The tribe scrambled to flee. Hound and Fox separately aided in preparing for the big move.
On the path of finding a new home. Tensions grew between Fox and Hound, the two of them unable to work alongside each other. It was put to the wayside as traveling together as a tribe became more important. Hound bit his tongue to avoid insulting Fox, the orange tom-cat doing the same.
Moons into their travels, exhausted and hungry. The tribe settled down in a temporary home. Everyone got to work finding prey and moss for nests. Fox and Hound were put in a group to scout ahead. As fate would have it, one of them wouldn't make it back to the tribe.
Trailing behind, Fox stopped altogether. Hound narrowly avoided colliding into him. A short-tempered retort from Fox put them both on edge. Hound equally quick to growl back. A scuffle started between the two young toms. The rest of the scouting party rushing back to break it up, but they were too late.
A single hard shove sent Fox skirting down the mountainside. Hound screamed in terror, watching Fox plummet to his death. The sickening crack enough to send Hound into shock. His legs gave out, it required two other cats pushing him to get him to walk back to the others. A different set of cats venturing down to retrieve Fox's dead body.
The sound of Fox's mother yowls of anguish was enough to make Hound's skin crawl. The title of a murderer being shouted in his direction by the orange tabby she-cat. It took some convincing for her to calm down, Hound excusing himself to hide. Too young for such guilt.
He was found not at fault for Fox's death despite the divided census of the tribe. Hound became a pariah in a matter of hours. Secluding himself for the remainder of the travel to their new home. Hound grew cold. Shunned by most cats, even his mother couldn't look at him. She blamed her son for Fox's death. While she never outwardly expressed this, Hound could see it on his mother's face. His father tried to offer his son some support, quick to defend his kit but it came too late. Hound refused his father's sympathy, this put a strain on his parent's relationship. They have since parted ways as mates.
Finally arriving in their new home, Hound continued to keep his distance from his tribemates. He focused on his role. Taking over night time guard duty, fewer cats up at that those hours. Making it easier for him to avoid unwanted glances, making it easy to sleep through their cruel whispers. A recluse among a close-knit community, Hound embraced it, finding a quiet comfort in being the tribe's pariah.
Note:
Mother: Night of Falling Stars - alive
Father: Thorn of Bramble Bush - alive
Guide: Claw of Angry Eagle - alive
Snarl of Black Hound