Post by Cloud of Diamonds on Sept 15, 2009 21:31:52 GMT -5
Name | Fox
Gender | she-cat
Age | 29 moons
Rank | rogue
Clan | none
Beliefs| Fox doesn't really have any set 'beliefs'. She has wondered where cats go when they die, or if they go anywhere. Sometimes, when she's a bit crazier, she imagines that their vengeful spirits haunt cats in life and that she hears them whispering in her ears. When she's saner, she often thinks that cats spirits' probably go several places; reincarnation, a bad place, or a good place. But she doesn't really spare it much thought most of the time.
Parents | Talon-mother-unknown-NP Bite-father-deceased
Siblings | Freeze-brother-deceased Buzzard-brother-
deceased Smoke-sister-unknown-NP
Other Kin | Unknown
Mate | Not yet
Crush | Not yet
Kits | Not yet
Apprentice/Mentor | Not yet
Appearance | Fox is a ginger tabby, though her appearance isn't exactly standard. Her base pelt color is a sandy orange, with a darker orange covering much of her back, sides, and legs. She has faint stripes on her long, angular face, and slightly thicker ones on her tail. Her sides are mostly covered in dark orange, with a few patches of paler fur showing through here and there. Her spine has a large pale patch in the center of it, but is otherwise almost completely covered in dark ginger, except for a few small sand-colored flecks. Fox's legs are long and muscular, mostly dark orange on the top and pale on the lower half. Her eyes are a very light shade of green, almost like a green cloud. Fox's eyes are good gauges of what state her mind is in; if she is her normal self, they are cold, devoid of emotion, and slightly contemptous. However, if she is in the throes of one of her insanity fits her eyes become bright and wild, almost sparking with emotion of some sort, be it fear, rage, pain or other things better left untouched. Her face is long and angular, and her nose is pink. Her ears are large and tall, though not neccesarily wide. Her whiskers are white, average length,and spread out everywhere, seeming to pop from her face like weeds. Her muzzle and chin are white, as is a bit of her underbelly. Her general build is slim but muscular. Her shoulders have lean muscles, backed up by larger ones along her chest and sides. Her thick-furred, longish tail is a medium orange tone, neither dark nor pale. The tips of her fangs jut out slightly from her mouth.
Personality |
Murderousness: Yes, Fox is indeed a killer. And she's darn well good at it. She's not a berserk fighter who'll kill anyone in her path. Usually. It's not that she has a fast temper or hates other cats for some reason; she simply enjoys the "art" of homicide. To her, there is nothing more exciting then stalking a cat like prey, then jumping on them silently to deliver a death bite to the neck. To her, it is like the art of hunting or tracking. She wants to be good at it, so she practices. If someone ever asked her "Why?" Then she'd shrug, and say, "Well, don't you practice the art of killing prey? How can killing cats be so different? Is it truly 'worse' than killing prey?" That would be the response she'd give. In essence, it's true, but Fox has other reasons for being a murderer. She was raised badly, by parents who wanted their kits to only know how to fight, and didn't care much about teaching their kits to be good or considerate. Fox sees her killings as a way of honoring what she was taught. And another thing: She thinks that since she can do it, why not do it? Isn't it what she was born to do? In her opinion, it would be a waste not to use the skills she learned.
...That's the biggest part of Fox's personality. Scared yet?
Victim picking: Technically this should go under murderousness, but it's still a thing of itself. Unless she's in one of her bloodlust episodes, Fox is usually, well, not careful, but does take the time to know about the cat she's going to kill. When Fox sees a cat, she basically stalks them for a while, until she decides whether to kill them or not. Fox usually kills cats at least as big as her, but sometimes she'll take the life of a smaller one, just for the challenge of it. Oh, how Fox loves the heat of the moment, trying to duck and lash and swerve, before the final blow. And mercy to the young? Weeeell, Fox doesn't usually kill kits, but that's mainly because 1.She practically never sees any. 2. She thinks they're not worth killing now, but if she leaves them be she can kill them when they're older. Isn't she nice.
Relationships: Not that Fox has any. But if she had one, it would be dangerous for the cat in question but also for Fox. A friendship with a cat might cause her conscience to develop, which might trigger her to actually kill herself. And there also being the obvious danger that Fox could kill them in one of her mood swings, or just murder them because she was bored. They would have to have a really good reason for Fox to keep them alive. (possibly the promise of giving her more victims?)
Fox's possiblities of having a mate are even smaller than her possibilities of having a relationship. First off she's not likely to know any cat long enough to fall in love with them, if that's even possible. Second off she'd probably do away with said mate if they annoyed her too much. They would have to be a seriously calm, cool cat to not be freaked out by Fox anyway.
Artfulness: Believe it or not, Fox occasionally thinks about something not related to killing or related topics. Sometimes, usually at night when she's watching the starts come out, she will wonder about herself and why she exists in kind of a poetic manner, almost. Execept that some of them do have to do with her killing other cats, so I guess it is sort of related. Here are some examples:
If I live for killing, am I truly alive?
Who will kill me, and what will they be like?
Is death a journey or an end?
Why do we live if we must die? Are living and dying so different?
..so yeah. Kind of like a mad poet, if I do say so myself.
Skills | Fox's main skill is, of course, fighting. It is her blood and joy and what she focuses on, 24/7. She can hunt well enough to feed herself, but beyond that, she doesn't much care about perfecting her hunting skills. Her climbing is really only the basic skills of climbing all cats have; again, she'd rather focus on practicing her fighting. Her tracking is about the one thing besides her combat skills she focuses on; it's important for her main persuits. Her sense of smell is average, but she can be very observant when she feels like it and will be alert for the tiniest sign if she is tracking something, usually another cat.
History | Fox was born in a fox burrow. Her parents had killed the former residents, since Talon wanted a relatively safe place to raise her kits and this was the closest option, once the pesky foxes were removed. Soon after, the ginger Talon was huddled on a nest of grass and moss, with four squirming bundles beside her. Bite, the gray-and-white father, was sitting beside her with a cold smile on his scarred face. Here's an example of just how lovely her parents were (NOT):
Bite bent his head to get a better look at his children. Not that he was particularly interested in them, but it would be good to know what they looked like. The oldest and largest was a gray tabby tom, the first to nurse at his mother's belly. The secondborn kit was a pale gray she-cat, and more delicate looking. Bite sneered. She would die quickly among her larger siblings. No matter. He still had two others to spare. The bi-colored tom shifted his gaze slightly to look at his youngest children. The third was a medium-size white tom, strong, but not as big as his brother. Bite's eyes rested on his last kit. She was a ginger tabby like her mother, of average size, but most of her pelt was a darker shade, like the fur of the animals they'd murdered to make this burrow their own. Foxes. Bite smiled. What a perfect name for his youngest daughter. He turned towards his mate. "Have you chosen names yet, Talon?" His mate snapped back at him, "Why would I spare any thought for that, you mousebrained tom? I've been kitting since dawn and now I have to feed the wretched things. I just hope this plan of yours works, for your sake." Bite rolled his yellow eyes in annoyance. They'd talked about this a hundred times. "Of course it will. We'll be the ones raising them, after all. And if they have any brains at all, they'll relish what we can teach them." "As long they don't use their skills to dispose of us." Muttered Talon. A valid concern, as it would happen. Bite snorted. "They'll be nothing but shells. Shells don't have the will to wipe out the paw that feeds them. Anyway, about names." The ginger she-cat interrupted him. "I've already thought of names for the first three, since you got it stuck in my head." She said. She touched her eldest son with the tip of her tail. "This one's name is Buzzard." Bite grunted approvingly. He'd offer his suggestion when she was done. Her tail moved to her first daughter. "And this is Smoke." Bite smirked. His eldest daughter was indeed the color of smoke, and just as easy to put a paw through, it seemed. She moved her tail to the white kit. "He's Freeze." Bite nodded. A frozen river bore a likeness to his younger son. Talon frowned at her youngest child. "I haven't been able to think of a name for this one." She said. Bite meowed softly, "What about Fox?" The queen grinned, showing her stained fangs. "A mighty and accurate name for our youngest and most promising daughter. I like it." Bite smiled his vampiric smile. And like a fox she'd be, he'd make sure of it.
Once the kits were five moons old, Bite and Talon started to show them how to do fighting maneuvers. At the age of around six moons, the kits began to do them for themselves. Buzzard was aggressive, but not the brightest bulb in the bunch. He would charge into a fight without thinking, a trait that was his failing in the eyes of his father. Still, Bite was pleased with his tabby son, if only for the fact that he was easy to manipulate and needed little reason to shed blood. Smoke barely managed to please her father, but was useful in the eyes of Talon. She was shy and reluctant to join in the battle training, only halfheartedly doing the moves before being yowled at by her angry dad. She slipped away to hunt whenever she could, bringing them prey in exchange for not being used as a scratching post. Bite grudgingly admitted she was useful, as it saved him the trouble of having to hunt himself. Talon also defended the gray she-cat furiously; at least give her a chance, she said. Once a reluctant mother, the ginger tabby now cared at least somewhat for her four children, especially the one who was singled out for persecution by her not-so-loving mate. When Smoke was about eight moons old, she ran away. Here one day and gone the next, she was. Who could blame her? Talon was wracked with grief by the loss of her now-favorite child. She left Bite after she knew, not wishing to have anything after he'd simply shrugged and said "Who cares?" when she'd anxiously asked if he knew where Smoke had went.
Fox's younger brother didn't last very long; he died of sickness when he was barely six moons old. He was mourned by Talon, and Bite was a bit despairing because it robbed him of another test dummy; however his tears were soon dry, because to him he still had the two most valuable, and he didn't give a darn what happened to Smoke.
After Smoke ran away, life went on as it had been going on for Bite's two remaining kits. Fox and Buzzard were continually fighting each her in vicious spats encouraged by Bite. Buzzard was growing rapidly, and by the time he was fully grown he was enormous, almost twice as big as Fox, heavily muscled but not a swift or intelligent fighter. Fox was only averagely sized but twice as intelligent as her brother and even more deadly. Unlike Buzzard, whom Bite only taught crude fighting techniques, Fox was deemed worthy to learn the more subtle uses of the skill; how to kill merely by pressing a claw into a certain spot, or how to perform a death bite the enemy would never see coming.
Thus life continued, until Fox and Buzzard reached their 12th moon. Buzzard had become jealous that only Fox was taught the more advanced fighting skills; he wanted to know too, and figured Bite would never bother to teach him when Fox was around.
So one day when his littermate was hunting, he tried to kill her.
The huge tabby tom stepped as quietly as he could through the sticks and leaves that littered the forest floor. This was it. Now he had the chance to be rid of that sly she-cat once and for all. There she was, about a tree-length off. Dropping into a crouch, he slowly crept closer to the ginger tabby. A minute passed before he bunched his muscles, pounced--and his sister whirled around, claws out to meet him. He yowled in surprise as blood spurted from his broad gray chest, but managed to swipe at her underbelly as he fell to the ground, legs out. Quick as lightning, Fox lept onto her brother's back, turned around, and sunk her claws into his pelt. Before Buzzard could do more than grunt, her teeth were in his neck, pressing down. "Don't you think I suspected you were going to try this?" she whispered around her fangs in his fur. "Well, brother, I was always the smarter one, and Father knew it. Good-bye, Buzzard." Blackness rushed to meet the gray tom as the sun set on his life.
Bite wasn't shocked when Fox told him of her last remaining sibling's death. However, he should have been more wary when she casually told him of the event. He figured that no matter how intelligent his daughter was, he was smarter. A mistake that would prove fatal. The two continued to live together for around another moon until Bite suggested to Fox that she go kill a cat nearby that had been annoying him. Fox refused, saying why didn't he go do it himself. Bite said, well, this will be a chance to try out all the skills I taught you. The ginger she-cat said she didn't feel like it right now. Bite became angry, saying it was just a small thing for her to do and she should show some gratitude to him because if it weren't for him she couldn't fight at all. fox merely ignored him, until he got so worked up he sprang upon her, pinning her down. The orange rogue was stunned, but managed to slink out from under him, saying there was no need to do that. Bite snarled, saying that if she wouldn't obey him she was worthless. These words cut deeper into the feral tabby's heart than he knew. So many emotions mixed up inside her, but all of them dominated by a coldness. If her father was going to act like this, then she had no further use for him. As Bite meowed furiously at her, she gashed his throat. He never even saw it coming until the last second. And by then, it was too late. At first, Fox was horrified. Why....why had she done this? Why had she killed Buzzard as well, she now wondered. Because, she answered herself, Bite was becoming an obstacle. And Buzzard was trying to kill me himself. Talon had once been kind to her, and Fox had once been kind to Smoke, taught by her mother long ago, but...what use were they? None. They were gone. Who else need she be kind to, when she could depend upon herself for everything? But now...now that she had killed twice, the feeling of doing so, the thrill of it, had left its imprint upon her soul. I can, she thought, so why not? Part of her detested this. Part of her wondered what use it was to murder needlessly. But she could not shake that feeling she had a hint of desire for. The thrill of the fight, the blow the victim never saw coming. As Fox thought, the more she deluded herself that this was what she was meant for. To kill.
Gender | she-cat
Age | 29 moons
Rank | rogue
Clan | none
Beliefs| Fox doesn't really have any set 'beliefs'. She has wondered where cats go when they die, or if they go anywhere. Sometimes, when she's a bit crazier, she imagines that their vengeful spirits haunt cats in life and that she hears them whispering in her ears. When she's saner, she often thinks that cats spirits' probably go several places; reincarnation, a bad place, or a good place. But she doesn't really spare it much thought most of the time.
Parents | Talon-mother-unknown-NP Bite-father-deceased
Siblings | Freeze-brother-deceased Buzzard-brother-
deceased Smoke-sister-unknown-NP
Other Kin | Unknown
Mate | Not yet
Crush | Not yet
Kits | Not yet
Apprentice/Mentor | Not yet
Appearance | Fox is a ginger tabby, though her appearance isn't exactly standard. Her base pelt color is a sandy orange, with a darker orange covering much of her back, sides, and legs. She has faint stripes on her long, angular face, and slightly thicker ones on her tail. Her sides are mostly covered in dark orange, with a few patches of paler fur showing through here and there. Her spine has a large pale patch in the center of it, but is otherwise almost completely covered in dark ginger, except for a few small sand-colored flecks. Fox's legs are long and muscular, mostly dark orange on the top and pale on the lower half. Her eyes are a very light shade of green, almost like a green cloud. Fox's eyes are good gauges of what state her mind is in; if she is her normal self, they are cold, devoid of emotion, and slightly contemptous. However, if she is in the throes of one of her insanity fits her eyes become bright and wild, almost sparking with emotion of some sort, be it fear, rage, pain or other things better left untouched. Her face is long and angular, and her nose is pink. Her ears are large and tall, though not neccesarily wide. Her whiskers are white, average length,and spread out everywhere, seeming to pop from her face like weeds. Her muzzle and chin are white, as is a bit of her underbelly. Her general build is slim but muscular. Her shoulders have lean muscles, backed up by larger ones along her chest and sides. Her thick-furred, longish tail is a medium orange tone, neither dark nor pale. The tips of her fangs jut out slightly from her mouth.
Personality |
Murderousness: Yes, Fox is indeed a killer. And she's darn well good at it. She's not a berserk fighter who'll kill anyone in her path. Usually. It's not that she has a fast temper or hates other cats for some reason; she simply enjoys the "art" of homicide. To her, there is nothing more exciting then stalking a cat like prey, then jumping on them silently to deliver a death bite to the neck. To her, it is like the art of hunting or tracking. She wants to be good at it, so she practices. If someone ever asked her "Why?" Then she'd shrug, and say, "Well, don't you practice the art of killing prey? How can killing cats be so different? Is it truly 'worse' than killing prey?" That would be the response she'd give. In essence, it's true, but Fox has other reasons for being a murderer. She was raised badly, by parents who wanted their kits to only know how to fight, and didn't care much about teaching their kits to be good or considerate. Fox sees her killings as a way of honoring what she was taught. And another thing: She thinks that since she can do it, why not do it? Isn't it what she was born to do? In her opinion, it would be a waste not to use the skills she learned.
...That's the biggest part of Fox's personality. Scared yet?
Victim picking: Technically this should go under murderousness, but it's still a thing of itself. Unless she's in one of her bloodlust episodes, Fox is usually, well, not careful, but does take the time to know about the cat she's going to kill. When Fox sees a cat, she basically stalks them for a while, until she decides whether to kill them or not. Fox usually kills cats at least as big as her, but sometimes she'll take the life of a smaller one, just for the challenge of it. Oh, how Fox loves the heat of the moment, trying to duck and lash and swerve, before the final blow. And mercy to the young? Weeeell, Fox doesn't usually kill kits, but that's mainly because 1.She practically never sees any. 2. She thinks they're not worth killing now, but if she leaves them be she can kill them when they're older. Isn't she nice.
Relationships: Not that Fox has any. But if she had one, it would be dangerous for the cat in question but also for Fox. A friendship with a cat might cause her conscience to develop, which might trigger her to actually kill herself. And there also being the obvious danger that Fox could kill them in one of her mood swings, or just murder them because she was bored. They would have to have a really good reason for Fox to keep them alive. (possibly the promise of giving her more victims?)
Fox's possiblities of having a mate are even smaller than her possibilities of having a relationship. First off she's not likely to know any cat long enough to fall in love with them, if that's even possible. Second off she'd probably do away with said mate if they annoyed her too much. They would have to be a seriously calm, cool cat to not be freaked out by Fox anyway.
Artfulness: Believe it or not, Fox occasionally thinks about something not related to killing or related topics. Sometimes, usually at night when she's watching the starts come out, she will wonder about herself and why she exists in kind of a poetic manner, almost. Execept that some of them do have to do with her killing other cats, so I guess it is sort of related. Here are some examples:
If I live for killing, am I truly alive?
Who will kill me, and what will they be like?
Is death a journey or an end?
Why do we live if we must die? Are living and dying so different?
..so yeah. Kind of like a mad poet, if I do say so myself.
Skills | Fox's main skill is, of course, fighting. It is her blood and joy and what she focuses on, 24/7. She can hunt well enough to feed herself, but beyond that, she doesn't much care about perfecting her hunting skills. Her climbing is really only the basic skills of climbing all cats have; again, she'd rather focus on practicing her fighting. Her tracking is about the one thing besides her combat skills she focuses on; it's important for her main persuits. Her sense of smell is average, but she can be very observant when she feels like it and will be alert for the tiniest sign if she is tracking something, usually another cat.
History | Fox was born in a fox burrow. Her parents had killed the former residents, since Talon wanted a relatively safe place to raise her kits and this was the closest option, once the pesky foxes were removed. Soon after, the ginger Talon was huddled on a nest of grass and moss, with four squirming bundles beside her. Bite, the gray-and-white father, was sitting beside her with a cold smile on his scarred face. Here's an example of just how lovely her parents were (NOT):
Bite bent his head to get a better look at his children. Not that he was particularly interested in them, but it would be good to know what they looked like. The oldest and largest was a gray tabby tom, the first to nurse at his mother's belly. The secondborn kit was a pale gray she-cat, and more delicate looking. Bite sneered. She would die quickly among her larger siblings. No matter. He still had two others to spare. The bi-colored tom shifted his gaze slightly to look at his youngest children. The third was a medium-size white tom, strong, but not as big as his brother. Bite's eyes rested on his last kit. She was a ginger tabby like her mother, of average size, but most of her pelt was a darker shade, like the fur of the animals they'd murdered to make this burrow their own. Foxes. Bite smiled. What a perfect name for his youngest daughter. He turned towards his mate. "Have you chosen names yet, Talon?" His mate snapped back at him, "Why would I spare any thought for that, you mousebrained tom? I've been kitting since dawn and now I have to feed the wretched things. I just hope this plan of yours works, for your sake." Bite rolled his yellow eyes in annoyance. They'd talked about this a hundred times. "Of course it will. We'll be the ones raising them, after all. And if they have any brains at all, they'll relish what we can teach them." "As long they don't use their skills to dispose of us." Muttered Talon. A valid concern, as it would happen. Bite snorted. "They'll be nothing but shells. Shells don't have the will to wipe out the paw that feeds them. Anyway, about names." The ginger she-cat interrupted him. "I've already thought of names for the first three, since you got it stuck in my head." She said. She touched her eldest son with the tip of her tail. "This one's name is Buzzard." Bite grunted approvingly. He'd offer his suggestion when she was done. Her tail moved to her first daughter. "And this is Smoke." Bite smirked. His eldest daughter was indeed the color of smoke, and just as easy to put a paw through, it seemed. She moved her tail to the white kit. "He's Freeze." Bite nodded. A frozen river bore a likeness to his younger son. Talon frowned at her youngest child. "I haven't been able to think of a name for this one." She said. Bite meowed softly, "What about Fox?" The queen grinned, showing her stained fangs. "A mighty and accurate name for our youngest and most promising daughter. I like it." Bite smiled his vampiric smile. And like a fox she'd be, he'd make sure of it.
Once the kits were five moons old, Bite and Talon started to show them how to do fighting maneuvers. At the age of around six moons, the kits began to do them for themselves. Buzzard was aggressive, but not the brightest bulb in the bunch. He would charge into a fight without thinking, a trait that was his failing in the eyes of his father. Still, Bite was pleased with his tabby son, if only for the fact that he was easy to manipulate and needed little reason to shed blood. Smoke barely managed to please her father, but was useful in the eyes of Talon. She was shy and reluctant to join in the battle training, only halfheartedly doing the moves before being yowled at by her angry dad. She slipped away to hunt whenever she could, bringing them prey in exchange for not being used as a scratching post. Bite grudgingly admitted she was useful, as it saved him the trouble of having to hunt himself. Talon also defended the gray she-cat furiously; at least give her a chance, she said. Once a reluctant mother, the ginger tabby now cared at least somewhat for her four children, especially the one who was singled out for persecution by her not-so-loving mate. When Smoke was about eight moons old, she ran away. Here one day and gone the next, she was. Who could blame her? Talon was wracked with grief by the loss of her now-favorite child. She left Bite after she knew, not wishing to have anything after he'd simply shrugged and said "Who cares?" when she'd anxiously asked if he knew where Smoke had went.
Fox's younger brother didn't last very long; he died of sickness when he was barely six moons old. He was mourned by Talon, and Bite was a bit despairing because it robbed him of another test dummy; however his tears were soon dry, because to him he still had the two most valuable, and he didn't give a darn what happened to Smoke.
After Smoke ran away, life went on as it had been going on for Bite's two remaining kits. Fox and Buzzard were continually fighting each her in vicious spats encouraged by Bite. Buzzard was growing rapidly, and by the time he was fully grown he was enormous, almost twice as big as Fox, heavily muscled but not a swift or intelligent fighter. Fox was only averagely sized but twice as intelligent as her brother and even more deadly. Unlike Buzzard, whom Bite only taught crude fighting techniques, Fox was deemed worthy to learn the more subtle uses of the skill; how to kill merely by pressing a claw into a certain spot, or how to perform a death bite the enemy would never see coming.
Thus life continued, until Fox and Buzzard reached their 12th moon. Buzzard had become jealous that only Fox was taught the more advanced fighting skills; he wanted to know too, and figured Bite would never bother to teach him when Fox was around.
So one day when his littermate was hunting, he tried to kill her.
The huge tabby tom stepped as quietly as he could through the sticks and leaves that littered the forest floor. This was it. Now he had the chance to be rid of that sly she-cat once and for all. There she was, about a tree-length off. Dropping into a crouch, he slowly crept closer to the ginger tabby. A minute passed before he bunched his muscles, pounced--and his sister whirled around, claws out to meet him. He yowled in surprise as blood spurted from his broad gray chest, but managed to swipe at her underbelly as he fell to the ground, legs out. Quick as lightning, Fox lept onto her brother's back, turned around, and sunk her claws into his pelt. Before Buzzard could do more than grunt, her teeth were in his neck, pressing down. "Don't you think I suspected you were going to try this?" she whispered around her fangs in his fur. "Well, brother, I was always the smarter one, and Father knew it. Good-bye, Buzzard." Blackness rushed to meet the gray tom as the sun set on his life.
Bite wasn't shocked when Fox told him of her last remaining sibling's death. However, he should have been more wary when she casually told him of the event. He figured that no matter how intelligent his daughter was, he was smarter. A mistake that would prove fatal. The two continued to live together for around another moon until Bite suggested to Fox that she go kill a cat nearby that had been annoying him. Fox refused, saying why didn't he go do it himself. Bite said, well, this will be a chance to try out all the skills I taught you. The ginger she-cat said she didn't feel like it right now. Bite became angry, saying it was just a small thing for her to do and she should show some gratitude to him because if it weren't for him she couldn't fight at all. fox merely ignored him, until he got so worked up he sprang upon her, pinning her down. The orange rogue was stunned, but managed to slink out from under him, saying there was no need to do that. Bite snarled, saying that if she wouldn't obey him she was worthless. These words cut deeper into the feral tabby's heart than he knew. So many emotions mixed up inside her, but all of them dominated by a coldness. If her father was going to act like this, then she had no further use for him. As Bite meowed furiously at her, she gashed his throat. He never even saw it coming until the last second. And by then, it was too late. At first, Fox was horrified. Why....why had she done this? Why had she killed Buzzard as well, she now wondered. Because, she answered herself, Bite was becoming an obstacle. And Buzzard was trying to kill me himself. Talon had once been kind to her, and Fox had once been kind to Smoke, taught by her mother long ago, but...what use were they? None. They were gone. Who else need she be kind to, when she could depend upon herself for everything? But now...now that she had killed twice, the feeling of doing so, the thrill of it, had left its imprint upon her soul. I can, she thought, so why not? Part of her detested this. Part of her wondered what use it was to murder needlessly. But she could not shake that feeling she had a hint of desire for. The thrill of the fight, the blow the victim never saw coming. As Fox thought, the more she deluded herself that this was what she was meant for. To kill.
And thus did Fox begin her life of murder.
We have a cbox again and we're opening the place up as a closed, members only rp