Root Cloudbringer

[blackleaf]

Name: Root Cloudbringer Gender: Tom Date of Birth: 03/02/2007 Height: 24 cm Sexual Preference: Straight Status: Not neutered Coat Color: Black Coat Pattern: Solid Eye Color: Green Fur Length: Medium Appearance Extra: Root is quite lithe; there’s never been much muscle on him. He has a small scar on his underbelly where he fell on a piece of glass as a kitten, and a scratch on his left shoulder which is hidden by his fur. History: The only surviving member of a litter of five, Root had the misfortune of almost immediately earning the resentment of his mother, who blamed him for the death of his siblings. Owned by a family who lived in the suburban central of London, Root grew up amongst the chimney stacks, treacherous gaps and drops and above all winding and trailing walls and ledges native to closely clumped houses. His mother, who only gave up her milk to him thanks to her maternal instincts, put up no fuss when Root was sold to a family across the street, and after that he only ever saw her in passing; bumping into her whilst making his way to favoured restaurant doors, being staunchly avoided on the rooftops. Even scrapping over morsels of food. Ebony Cloudbringer knew how to hold a grudge. But Root had a decent upbringing, even without his mother to guide him. The tiny garden, no more than a yard, made for an excellent training ground for Root’s hunting, and an old Tom called Spiral taught him to fight well enough, but Root spent most of his childhood practising the feline movement custom to his race; he’d spend every free moment leaping from rooftop to rooftop, scaling trees, careering across chimneys and balancing on walls. Things were good for Root. His family fed him, he was given free rein of the neighbourhood (as long as he kept on the good side of the local strays) and, best of all, there were no dogs. That is, until the day a new family moved into Root’s street, bringing with them a Rottweiler of such malicious bloodlust, it was a wonder there were any cats left by the time it cornered Spiral in an alley. Root only ever found one of his ears. In the aftermath of the slaughter, Root found himself experiencing an emotion he’d never come across before: fury. He knew he could never take on the dog in a fight; he was far weaker on his own. So he attacked the one point he knew would hurt the dog the most. He attacked the family it was loyal to. The baby kept the scars for life. Attacking an infant in a suburban area wasn’t really the best choice Root could have made. One of the most noticeable repercussions was that he instantly lost the respect of every cat in the area, all of whom didn’t look too kindly upon mauling youngsters, even if it did entail wreaking revenge for the murder of a friend. Secondly, the aforementioned Rottweiler became fixated with tearing him limb from limb, forcing him to either seek refuge amongst the rooftops or simply stay inside his house all day. But this was soon not an option as well; the family he lived with, having two children themselves, understandably became cautious around Root, keeping their young well away from him and only feeding him when they absolutely had to. He was confused at first; he couldn’t understand how no one could see what he had done as just. Gradually, that confusion turned to anger, and he even began lashing out at his own family, and getting into fights with other cats, stray and domestic. He steadily retreated further and further into himself, until it was hard to catch a glimpse of him during the day; he traversed the neighbourhood endlessly, longing for a city where he could truly test his abilities. He ceased communications with other cats almost completely, returning to his house only when he had to eat. Suffice to say, his love life was next to non-existent. No female wanted to be seen near him, let alone mate with him. Not that he let his hygiene deteriorate. He made a point of staying sleek and groomed, and the constant clambering and running tightened what little muscle he had. Root’s life, it seemed, had hit rock bottom. Imagine his shock, therefore, when he leapt down from a tree branch to his favourite windowsill, only to have the window flung open and himself bundled into a cramped cage... Personality: Root is a recluse. Full Stop. With little to no communication skills, as he let them rust and crumble with years of neglect, he finds talking to other cats incredibly difficult, not least expressing his feelings and emotions. His opinions, he finds, are better explained through tooth and claw. Agile and small, Root makes up for his size with a vicious fighting style, though he endeavours to remain calm when he is not in combat. When faced with a situation he doesn’t know how to handle, he’ll likely as not fall back on cautious silence, waiting to see what others will do. The same applies to other animals, though he’ll probably try to avoid meeting them all together. Dogs are a different story though. To Root, the dog represents his fall from contentment: the canine is everything his despises with the world, and he will do everything within his power to make any dog’s life a living hell. He’s something of a fanatic, you might say. As for humanity, he can take them or leave them. If they’ve got meat in their hands, they’ve got his interest, but he’s committed to never trusting a human again. Whether he can live up to this promise remains to be seen. The most prominent skill in Root’s arsenal can only be really described as feline parkour. In athletic and agile movement, there are few who can rival him. This is the main reason he’s still alive after he earned the enmity of a large dog; it was the easiest thing in the world for him to scale a tree and leap to the safety of a roof, or double back over a wall, or simply outrun his pursuer. This is a trait that, as well as being a skill, is also a hobby. When he’s nothing better to do, he’ll find new and exciting ways of getting across a city, with the risk of slipping and plummeting to his death constantly at his side. He lands on his feet a lot, to say the least. Hunting is a skill he possesses, though as you would expect, he’s not the greatest of predators, having been a housecat for a large amount of his life. He can catch a mouse with little difficulty, however, and knows enough not to starve. He does pride himself, however, on the ability to move silently, and to pass undetected. He often listens quietly to the conversations of other cats, never being detected, and as such comes to know a great deal about those around him. He never uses the information though, unless the need arises. Despite his reserved nature and loner existence, he’s not malicious, and means as little harm as possible, though he is very bitter at the way life has treated him. In terms of his flaws, Root has a tendency to be rude and abrupt. This is quite unintentional, and comes from his lack of conversation skills. He’s naturally uncomfortable around kittens, as their uninhibited joy makes him uneasy, and they ask too many questions. Also, he cannot stand snow. He hates it; his black coat stands out stark and obvious against the glaring white, making it almost impossible for him to hide. Image: Root Cloudbringer Your OOC Name: Blackleaf Other Characters On the Site: N/A