;;prowl.

[prowler.]

Before she left, my mother called me Prowl.

Despite my small physique, I have always been identifiable as a tom-cat.

I don't know your terms of "moons", but I would guess around 7 moons of age.

I pledge my allegiance to no-one and I hold no title either - for now.

Of beliefs; Prowl is a cat of very strong ideals, however not ones he openly shares. He has no belief in any form of afterlife, traditional or otherwise and maintains a fairly cynical perspective on life - you're born, you live, you die, doesn't matter what happens inbetween but that you procrastinate getting to the last stage for as long as possible. He doesn't believe that having friends is a necessity either and therefore avoids unnecessary, annoying company. He believes life is cruel, so you've got to be tough to get through it, end of. The only one he can trust to not turn their back is himself and that's the way it will stay. He does believe the occasional company is a necessity to not go insane however and is fully aware that strength is in numbers as the unit.

My father was a rogue, referred to only by my mother as Mauledface (NP), presumably a nickname from her for his physical deformity. My mother was once a kittypet who went off to explore this "beautiful world" but kept her owner's affection name of Tink (NP)

I was told the others died in birth and were never named.

I'm far too young to even consider a mate or kits, but maybe when I meet a nice fem, I might take a fancy to her (open).

Since I don't have a clan, I also have no mentor (open).

Of appearance;

Prowl's initial appearance is not one most felines would consider by any means initially intimidating - due to his age his frame is quite slight and his short fur has nothing to create the illusion of a greater bulk. His mother was often haunted by the fact of his similarities to his father; the general shade of his fur but even more the tone of his icy teal-blue eyes. When your eyes trail across his physique, an interesting feature can be noted around his paws: whilst the paws themselves are small and in some descriptions maybe even dainty, arching from these are abnormally long, sharp claws, creating quite an unusual overall look which seems to extend the length of his legs, making him appear slightly taller than is perhaps true. From general semi-malnourishment, his build is quite lean and even maybe considered a little "scraggly" despite the excellent quality of his fur. Such fur is well-kept and though lacking it's healthy shine from correct nutrition, looks better than the majority of other feral cat's coats. In colour it is a very dark grey, even turning black in some areas and going to a slightly lighter shade of white at his chest.

His features are aristocratic but not androgynous, with a delicate black nose, mid-length pale whiskers and a small, dark maw. His eyes are neatly rimmed with a black lining which easily blends into his fur, giving his optics a narrow, almond-like shape, with two small obsidian slits piercing through their centre. With his generally lean shape, Prowl creates quite a slinky, dark silhouette in his frame but any well-experienced older cat that has seen other generations grow can easily see with the right nourishment Prowl will in fact grow to be a well-sized feline, if not above average in size and stature. With his current dimensions however he finds it easier to move very gracefully on his paws and his light weight means he can move extremely fast and with a certain nimble agility that is desirable amongst felines designed to run and hunt.

With a thin, whip-like tail covered in the same short black-grey fur that wraps his entire body, Prowl by any means looks something of a delicate feline. It is very clear from his physical attributes that he is clearly young, but the air with which he holds himself is something far beyond his years - a slight cold distance that can easily be interpreted as the untrustable air of a more calculating cat. It is just this eerie, mature calmness he cloaks himself in and the perfect posture that he holds himself to - aside from when hunting, obviously - his voice, too, matches this assumption. When he speaks he speaks in quiet, unrushed tones with a very slight masculine depth but not too noticeably so. Despite all his flaws and shortcomings from his upbringing on his physical self however, Prowl's natural features could even be considered handsome, if you are able to look past the gut-piercing clarity of his eyes too they are indeed quite beautiful set amongst his face, perhaps making up his most unique and appealing feature.

Of personality;

Of all Prowl's traits, both physical and otherwise, his personality is perhaps one of the most complex and difficult to decode features of all. His past has influenced his way of thinking a lot, or at least so a feline more psychologically interpretive would be able to conclude, but to Prowl himself, he makes logical assumptions and decisions based on fact and provided evidence more than anything. In this way is how he judges cat - drawing no conclusions until a feline has proved themselves either one way or the other in their actions, this does not necessarily mean he won't fight a stranger cat that attacks because he doesn't know their motive, by no means - in fighting terms, all if fair game if you are the assaulted. With his way of thinking he tends to be extremely analytical: perhaps to the point of too much so, trying to analyse even the slightest of intonations, phrases and actions. However he is far from a careless feline, possessing an almost dark intelligence and maturity well beyond his years.

Though generally opinionated, Prowl keeps himself to himself, maybe something unsurprising or even predictable of a rogue. But unlike the usual slime that is a Rogue, Prowl possesses an inner courage and bravery unlike that of most others. He does not tend to express his kindness, but instead acts in random trends of morality before brushing it off as if he did nothing. Perhaps more expected an typical of a rogue, he is cunning and manipulative enough to know how to twist your average feline into doing your will, even though he knows to be able to accurately do this will take time, as despite manipulation being a mind game it does need some moderate physical reinforcement, which, with his current physique, he cannot yet apply.

However once Prowl has made a judgement of another's character, it sticks. This doesn't mean he makes judgements fast or on first impressions, but after a feline has been given enough chances and their character assessed then they will keep their branding in his mind. It is to these felines - ones he knows are downright cruel or wicked cats - that he is totally merciless to. In a fight he would tend to exercise diplomacy where possible to avoid losses, but should his enemies have not been likely to show him mercy, he is unlikely to show them mercy. However his assessment of felines works the same way on the other side of the spectrum. Should a cat show consistent kindness and a good heart to him, he will be undyingly loyal and kind in return, even if he may not fully express this for his loner-ish nature, because deep down he is a justified, kind-hearted feline.

Because of the types of scum he has generally encountered in the world however, it is more likely for a negative assessment to be made. He exercises that caution and suspicion of strangers is best instead of open friendliness and trust, because it is better to have been cautious and prepared than come to others practically asking to be ripped apart for your open kindness. Though he has this view of cats - a general opinion of that the usual moral standard of felines is low these days - he remains to have the intolerable curiosity of a young feline, which, indeed, has been known to get him into some trouble. He approaches these situations with a bold attitude though, as he believes showing weakness to any enemy only encourages them. Of all things Prowl is not, shy is definitely one of them, he will not shrink away from confrontation nor tremble in the face of danger, instead meeting it with an unflinching eye and daring it to make something happen.

From how other cats see him, he displays a number of problematic issues. For one, his pessimistic view of the world makes him easily appear cold to others as he prefers to avoid complete social interaction. Secondly, it is somewhat difficult to look past the cynicism often in his voice and attitude and to those that look even deeper, his commitment issues are quite obvious, as he has been brought up believing that attachment was forever a negative aspect of relationships. His personality can intentionally be put forward as spiteful however, depending on his mood obviously, as he has a pedantic, sarcastic attitude should he desire and if questioned will always speak complete honest truth - which would be a positive where he not so totally blunt.

Despite his overall calm and thoughtful containment with how he deals with situations - believing panic and chaos are stupid idiotic ways of reacting no matter how severe the situation - there is one thing that will push Prowl beyond his limits of logic. Water. The clinging, sucking, swirling, wet, pulling fluid produced in nature. Surely the absolute nemesis of all cats, no matter what it's purpose. Yes, Prowl is absolutely terrified of water and certain that if one thing will kill him in his life, it will be exactly that. Prowl as a young feline however has a lot of room to expand as a character, there are signs in his personality that he may turn out to be an ambitious or perhaps even malicious feline, but his future experiences will surely dictate which way of the pendulum he turns.


Of skills;

In order of ability, Prowl's top traits are running, hunting and intelligence. Not far behind these are his abilities in strength and diplomacy, whilst at the very last of these are fishing, swimming and climbing. Running and hunting and keeping alive through his intelligence were all traits highly practiced in his tough kithood, thus leading to his current experience. His build does not allow him to be a particularly strong fighter but agile enough to do well on the battlefield and logical enough to be a good diplomat whilst the very last, well, he's terrified of water for the first two and he never really had time in his life to learn to climb, it was always about running and stealth.

The past;

Prowl's story begins not at his birth, but more around the time of his conception. His mother, a young, pretty femme named Tink, was an affectionate, kindhearted kittypet who's owners moved away and she decided instead of staying with the twoleg community she would venture out into the wild feral world of her ancestors to experience the true beauty of nature. Poor Tink could never have imagined the brutalities that would befall her. Her first issue was the food - having never hunted in her life, she was clumsy and loud and incapable and wherever she went the prey knew her arrival long before she even saw them and were gone in an instant. Sleeping some frustrated, cold and hungry nights in the cold, the next thing to get to her was the dirt, having a passionate dislike for water, she missed the comfort of her owner's brush detangling the leaves and sticks from her fur and refused to even go near the water. With her thick, fluffy grey fur even trying to wash herself alone was impossible.

But all of these disadvantages of being a stray would be blown out of the water by one experience that would come to break Tink. Mauledface. Now this rogue's actual name has never been known - lets just say he wasn't nice enough to introduce himself properly to Tink - but in the feral stray and rogue world he was known enough. Big, muscular, obsidian with piercing icy blue eyes and horrific scars disfiguring what might once upon a time have been a handsome face. Tink was never even to know as he approached. Unlike her, he'd been a rogue all his life, brought up fighting and stealing and even killing for whatever he wanted, he'd been injured more times than most and injured and killed others more time than anyone cared to even think about or count. His approach was silent.

Avoiding the details, once he was done with Tink she was broken and ruined, not only having been forced to submit to him so he might have his way, but he enjoyed mauling her ears and back whilst she was helpless to defend herself. Having never experienced a dispute with another kittypet even, let alone having ever been faced with the prospect of fighting a full-experienced rogue, she could do nothing. Needless to say, Tink gave birth some moons later, to three kits. However, though once she may have been a good mother, with the abuse of the harsh world of the wild, Tink was half-driven crazy. She would tell Prowl later on that the two other kits had died in birth, though he were never to know that in the night she took them far off into the forest and abandoned them to the mercy of the wild creatures and starvation.

She was halfway to doing the same with Prowl - she had named none of them so far, and instead spent time just staring at each of them, haunted by their appearances. The other two were clearly "patchy", a disgusting combination of her genes and the abomination's genes. It was this reason they were outcasted first to suffer merciless deaths. Prowl on the other hand stopped her when she came back - his eyes were open. That very same colour as his father's. And oh did Tink fear. This young feline was so similar to his father, only lacking the scars... What if Mauledface came back to find her after finding out she had killed a young incarnation of himself? She couldn't handle it! He'd kill her!!! So, fervently, she raised Prowl or at least for as long as she could manage.

She did enough to name him, for his dark coat and stealthy nature as a kit she called him Prowl. He was a playful little one, rather quiet and inquisitive but a good kit nonetheless, not that Tink saw it, she flinched when he jumped playfully toward her and imagined his father. Meanwhile she had gradually learnt to hunt, though lacking any grace or skill she would charge unsuspecting prey and with luck snap them into her jaws before they could escape. It was never a feast, but she survived. Mauledface did never come back, though Tink's mentality gradually deteriorated until when Prowl was nearing 5 moons old she just left. Prowl never knew enough to know where his mother went, just that suddenly, she was gone, no goodbye, nothing. He would never know that in fact she had thrown herself to the waters of a nearby river, to kill herself and drown, her last favour to him was simply not to have taken him with her.

He mewled for days, wanting his mother. True, she had been crazy - at points even biting off her own fur - and emaciated and looked at him with this combination of hate and fear, but she had been his mother. He'd loved her, as she'd loved him - right?.. Needless to say once hunger stirred in his belly some survival instinct kicked in Prowl, he grew to learn that simply mewling for something to happen would never make it so this day. At such a young age, he stood and wandered off into the wilds, in search of food to cure his rumbling stomach. He had never hunted before and only seen his mother do it once before and even then as a young kit found her technique somewhat bizarre. But with practice and as his hunger gradually sharpened his senses more and more he began to improve and slowly and gradually each day provided something - never a lot of prey, but at least he was getting by.

At 6 1/2 moons old he made a travel from his current location - it was near the city and noisy and not a lot of prey lingered nearby and with his improving hunting resources were getting only scarcer. He decided he had to move. His travel would not be a long one before he came across more rich in prey lands, but there was one issue. From where he was travelling there was one large body of water, a thick stream that rushed fast downstream. Prowl had never encountered something like it before, never such a mass of it at once. He'd been with Tink when it rained, she would hiss constantly and cling to the shelter of the trees glaring around, so Prowl had learnt to mimic this, in some way this water must be bad, even though it provided such a clear, good taste when lapped.

Either way he was faced with this obstacle and new he had to cross it somehow. The day was pleasant and mild but still cold, nearing the edge he lent forward to sniff the moving, swirling icy water. As he did so, the earth where his front paws were crouched gave way, plunging his front half into the water, and though he clung with all his might to the ledge with his hindlegs, the water's flow simply ripped him from the side and threw him into the icy cascade. He barely knew what happened, but cold, piercing, icy cold ripping through the very fiber of his body, it was some miracle that some part of his brain clicked - he had to kick, had to move, or he would die here now. He kicked wildly, being tossed so violently beneath the water as his lungs began to scream, he didn't know which way was up! Until at last, by some miracle, he broke the surface. That was his one focus now - keep his head above the water. He did until finally he was smashed into the side of the bank, acting fast, he pushed himself harder against the side and dug in all his claws and clung with all his might and held his position there. Freezing and gasping against this side he gradually adjusted to the ebb and flow of strong currents before, in an ebb, pushing all his might into pulling himself out, the water made a sucking noise against his fur as finally he came lose of the disgusting stuff.

Prowl's experience had been truly mortifying as he had come so very close to his death, but it was done - he had crossed to the other side. He spent some time recovering in the shelter of a nearby rock outcrop, drying and trying to gain warmth in the cold season. Something changed in him since his near death and learning to live alone - he had been abandoned in this life by the world and so maybe he should abandon it back, but he would see first just how things played out. A moon since this his intelligence has truly developed and he has lost the majority of his kit-like persona, no longer jumping playfully or wasting any sort of energy, instead practicing on focus and survival. He has finally approached these lands and smelled the scent borders of several felines each with strange smells. These many cats intrigue him deeply and he is considering approaching them, just to see what exactly is going on here.

Word Count: 3,383 Words

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[Pyro]

This is a beautiful bio. c: [1/2]

[Rolo]

This is an awesome bio

I have a two very minor things to talk about:

At 7 moons old, surviving in the wild alone is possible but very difficult. It may be worth bumping his age up one or 2 moons, so that he's had a reasonable time learning how to hunt/fight from his parental figures. At very least, you need to make it so that his mother has taught him at least a little about how to hunt, because it's unlikely he could rely on instincts alone. It would also be good if you made her leave at 6 moons minimum, because that's the time a kit becomes independant enough not to be cared by their mother.

Also, please avoid wolf-speak such as 'femme/fem' in your bio and rp posts :3

Apart from that, wonderful bio <3 I really enjoyed reading the history! Sorry it took so long!