Name AsphyxGender FemaleAge Young WarriorPlace LonerScent A Bit Like CitrusOrientation HeterosexualAccent BritishTheme Song Message ManCoat and Markings Shades of brown. Darker on top, lighter underneath. Tabby markers of darker brown. Ears, tail tip and paws are the darkest of the browns.Eyes and Nose Tints of blue, including sky blue and ice blue. Nose is pink.Scars and Physique One small scar on the left side of her nose, along with two over her left eye. Four over her left shoulder and two nearly touching on her lower, hind left leg. She is lithe and quite tall.Abilities She started training as soon as she could walk, knowing that when she was only a teen, she would go off to the great war. What her family and friends were fighting, she hadn't known, but in training, she excelled from the beginning. Her speed was a huge priority to her, and she training more on it than anything else. However, her fighting abilities are lethal, and she knows how to kill. Her technique includes quick, deep slashes all around the enemy, until they lay on the ground, bleeding out.PersonalityShe has trouble letting cats get close to her. She usually tries to be at least a little polite, but it doesn't always work out that way. She is usually mad at herself, and her rage happens to always pour out in eloquent rivers of sass, onto the nearest cat to her, or the one she happens to be conversing with at that moment. She always seems to be fighting her emotions, and so her attitude for the day can never be decided upon.Mother Thorn (Dead)Father Predator (Dead)Siblings Melandia (Dead)Friends Flick, Imagery (Both Dead)Rivals/Frenemies Fang (Dead)Enemies Cricket (Dead)Positive Acquaintances @thorNegative Acquaintances NoneMentors Canary, Shadow (Both Dead)Apprentices NoneCrush NoMate NoKits NoHistoryI was born to two cats by the names of Thorn and Predator in a land called Pyyria. My mother, Thorn, was harsh and could sometimes be quite cruel, but she taught me well. My father, Predator, was a crucial part of the war, and many cats would’ve died if he hadn’t been there to lead them. I always thought his intentions were good, but he didn’t get them across easily, usually shouting and clawing cats who didn’t listen to him. I had one sister, named Melandia. She died when we were young, but she had always been kind-hearted and caring. She was too polite on the battlefield, and had her throat slit because her opponent wasn’t nice enough.
Her opponent’s name was Cricket. He was a large, vicious, ruthless black tom who seemingly had no emotion. He would kill thousands upon thousands of cats without batting an eye. Three of those thousands of cats happened to be extremely close to me, one including my sister and the other two my best friends. My friends were named Imagery and Flick. They were my only friends.
Now I should probably go back and start from the beginning, when I was a kit. The war had been raging long before I was born, and it was nearly at a standstill, both sides loosing great masses of cats but no one seemed to be winning. As soon as I could walk on my own, my training started, and I became another pawn on the chessboard of war. My training was crucial to my success, but it was painful and memorable. I had never gone through anything harder than training, even the battlefield felt like an eye-bat compared to what I did then.
It began with an assessment, to see what I was capable of. Apparently I was capable of great things, and had amazing potential, since they constantly yelled at me and pushed me harder than the other kits my age. Ever since day one, I was favoured, though it felt more like a punishment. The trainers made me run further than everyone else, faster than the other kits, and wouldn’t let me stop fighting until I had at least gotten a bloody scratch.
I got my first scar a moon into training, fighting an older apprentice, though I was hardly three moons old. He fought hard, but I came out on top, receiving a memorable scar on the left side of my nose. I had tackled him, and he had instinctively thrown a paw up, and it caught on my nose. When he landed on the ground, I landed on top of him, and he quickly threw me off with his powerful back paws. However, his claw had been hooked in my nose, and it ripped out with ferocity, leaving a gash in my nose. I remember the trainers being extremely proud of me. I was the first to receive a scar on their watch.
I went off to the war early. Apparently they thought war would teach me better than they could. They had never been more correct. By then, all the cats I’d known were harsh, cruel, and cared nothing of the cats around them. I had learned to build walls, becoming a rock when a cat approached me. I wouldn’t talk, I would only give everyone I saw the most menacing glare I could come up with. It worked, for a while. I would hear cats talking about me in whispers, saying that I was
that cat. The one that could kill without knowing what she was doing. The one that could outrun the war, but chose not to. I was eventually feared, even by my allies. It was a life I could live with, however, since I believed that every cat was just as cruel as the next, and wouldn’t give a whisker for my life.
I was wrong. When I was out fighting for the first time since I got to the barracks, I met Imagery. She was from a different station than me, and her home was located far from where I lived. My battalion nearly all died that day, and they had to send me somewhere else, so they sent me to her barracks. Everyone seemed to avoid me, all except for her. She instantly became attached to me, and loved the way I parted the crowd by my appearance. Obviously, stories from my barracks had been spread, and everyone seemed to be scared of me. Cats would scatter at my face, pushing themselves as far away as they could from me. If one would brush their fur against mine, they would scream as if they were dying. Sometimes it was annoying, but eventually, I used it to my advantage. Imagery and I had each other, and we didn’t need anyone else.
Things were a little slow after that. The war seemed to be at a complete standstill, and they didn’t need any of us to go die at that moment. Imagery and I shared a room, and eventually another cat was added to our little group. His name was Flick. I was surprised that he would be rooming with us, since he was a boy, but I later found that Imagery was his cousin. Our group became extremely close.
There was one cat who seemingly hated my guts for no reason. Her name was Fang, and most said that she was from my battalion. She was one of the few survivors, and I later discovered that we had been trained together. She had always wanted to be the best, and when she could never beat me, it annoyed her beyond her wits. She had vowed she would beat me at something, and so in that time of peace, I challenged her to many things. Eventually, she stopped hating me, and we teased each other in a friendly, somewhat harsh way. We were rivals, but in a friendly way.
When things seemed to be going well, thats when everything goes downhill. No happiness lasts forever. Imagery, Flick, Fang, and I were sent on a special mission, one that would turn the tides of the war. I gladly volunteered, knowing I could do it, and of course Imagery and Flick didn’t hesitate to step up to go with me. Fang, driven by the fact she wanted to beat me in at least one thing, came along. We were told to sneak behind the lines and assassinate the second-in-command, a ruthless villain by the name of Phoenix. He had lead cats by the thousands to die and to kill, and had killed millions on our side. He had murdered countless cats, one including my father, Predator, who had been captured, tortured for information, then killed by drowning. Phoenix had to be killed, and I couldn’t help but step up at the opportunity.
For the next two days before we left, cats suddenly no longer feared me, but respected me. Each cat I passed congratulated me, and I couldn’t help but feel as if I really belonged somewhere, and I was about to throw myself off a cliff to avenge my father and our blood.
My posse was called the Emotionless, led by me, the most ‘emotionless' cat in the world. We were told that we had to be emotionless to go on such a suicide mission, but I reassured everyone that we were to return. If only I wasn’t so stupid.
We left in the morning, before the sun. The first part of the mission was the easiest part. We walked for
days on end, mostly through miserable weather. The sun beat down on us relentlessly, causing Flick to faint once. We got rained on a few times, had to swim through a river, climb a rocky mountain, before we finally got to our destination at least two moons later. Phoenix’s hideaway was located high in the mountains, in air one could barely breath in. We camped outside his door for the day, before sneaking in at night, under the dark cover. That night had been perfect, with a few lovely stars and a new moon. As we snuck in, I couldn’t help but look around and find all three of my comrades staring at me. Flick’s beautiful, blue eyes reflecting the stars above, Fang’s nearly black eyes staring into mine, and Imagery’s bright, bubbly green eyes that always shone in the darkest of times. I wouldn’t have made it this far without them, and now that we were at basically the end of our lives, I couldn’t hold it in. For the first time in my life, a tear escaped me, trickling down my cheek and landing with a soft thud on the fresh snow beneath our paws. I gave everyone a sad smile, before we padded into darkness.
What happened in the darkness was nearly a mystery. There were glowworms found on the walls every once in a while, and fire could be found embedded in the floor. We walked down a long, stony hallway for a long while. We knew the door we walked in through was the only way out, and there was a long passage between us and the door. It was a death sentence.
But I wouldn’t let that stop me, and my determination kept the others going. Fang tried to look braver than me, but she failed. Flick looked as nervous as a squirrel, and Imagery seemed lost. However, my ragtag team still went on into the darkness, until we came to a large bowl-like room. As soon as we set foot in that room, I knew it was a trap, but my brain reacted too slowly, and it was my fault that my friends all died that day, crushed under a mountain of rock. I shouldn’t have survived, I shouldn’t have lived, but when the rubble cleared, and I found that I was in fact still alive… I had no idea what to think. I cried, for the second time that day, and the second time in my life. It hurt, it felt as if my heart was ripped out of the chest, cut into pieces, and shoved back in all twisted and messed up. I will never forget them, for all my days, I will never forget their faces, their laughter, their determination.
The rock above me had been caught by another rock beside me, allowing me to live. I squeezed myself through the rocks until I found fresh air, and I couldn’t bring myself to return to the barracks, too ashamed to see any of their faces. I travelled for days, before finding that we had won the war, and that Phoenix had in fact died with my friends in that mountain that night. It was a relief that they didn’t die in vain.
After traveling for moons without any rest, I came across the land I am in now. My heart, hardened by the fact that I let my friends died, would never let anyone get close again. Its not that I don’t like cats, I just don’t want them around me, or my shame. Every time I see a white cat, Imagery comes to my mind. Grey tabbies remind me of Flick, and every calico brings Fang into my thoughts. I will forever hate large, black cats who have vicious attitudes, because they remind me of Cricket, the cat that killed my sister in her young age, and the cat who made the mountain crumble onto my friends.
Historical ThreadsRecurring NightmaresMissing AromaOOC Hello, it's Tiki. I recycled this account since it wasn't getting any action. If you want to role-play with Asphyx, feel free to post below. My other accounts are Loki, @rilian, @winterr, and @legolas.
