Post by dirge on Jul 31, 2010 17:05:36 GMT -5
Dirge of The Wild (Rogue)
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Name: Dirge
Age: Nine Moons
Gender: Tom
Clan: None
Rank: Rogue
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Reason For Name: His mother once was cared for by a funeral home director, and another cat she lived with had mentioned the word once. It was a very despairing time in her life when Dirge was born, so she thought the name suited him. Dirge returned to this name after leaving ThunderClan, because he remembered her calling him that as a tiny kit.
Previous Names:Darkkit,Darkpaw, Dirge, Darksong
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One Sentence Description: Muscular chocolate tabby tom with amber eyes.
Appearance: Dirge is very young for being such a strong and built rogue. His thick shoulder and hindquarter muscles mislead others into thinking he's much older than he actually is, though his muscles don't make him look like a monster, just not an apprentice-aged cat. Dirge can thank his brother and rivals for his physique. Dirge posses a short, deep brown tabby pelt. It blends well amongst the briars and wood of the tall oaks. His stripes are a lighter brown, which makes him look like he is entirely the color of a tree trunk. The stripes spread from his shoulders to his paws, but stop at his pelt, leaving it a magnificent pure chocolate. His pelt is a swirl of umber and burnt sienna, making it his most attractive feature.
His yellow eyes are a muted gold, so they blend well with his camouflage fur. They are scaled normally in comparison to his face. His small ears have a few nicks in them from battles with other rogues. His most noticeable scar lies like a crescent on his flank, and it was given to him by his brother. His muzzle has a nice rounded shape, though not portly; a square, masculine lower jaw sits just below his small, yet smart-looking nose. The nose is black rather than the normal pink, complementing his dark colors.
His paws are normal size and shape, making them look small compared to the rest of his body. Long and muscular hind legs are an example of Dirge's power, while his forelegs and paws are semi-slender, revealing a sliver of his youth. His tail is dark, with two black ringlets circling the tip at the end. His pads, the same color as his nose, are rough from all the rocky land he prowls.
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Personality: Dirge isn't what you'd call "caring". One day, he'll save a cat's life, and the next day, refuse to help another in a similar dilemma. His apathy is a huge part of who he is. A lot of what he does is based on his mood at the current time, and memories that he's reflected on recently. His moods are like a knob on his back that has three settings. If you turn it one way, he's bored, and if you turn it the other, he's in a semi-good mood, and, sometimes, there is anger. The anger he feels is so intense that he scares himself, so he only allows himself to be angry for a brief time. Boredom, however, is his general setting and it’s not easy to un-bore Dirge.
When he is bored, he tends to do stupid things to get small thrills. Once, he attacked a Twoleg to have a little fun. Five minutes later, he was grooming himself under an oak tree, sighing in boredom. Dirge has always been a bit of a psychopath, though he definitely doesn’t qualify as textbook. He would love if every cat in the forest respected him and saw him as a great leader, but doesn’t consider himself above another cat. Nor does he go killing everything in sight nilly-willy just because he wants revenge on one cat. If Dirge seeks revenge, he will do everything in his power to get it, but won’t smite those who get in his way.
Dirge has always had a mild curiosity, yet deep hatred of the clans. His anger at them mostly has to do with his relationship with his brother, who was once a clan cat. Most loners and rouges believe they will join a clan, and have an easier life. Get more food, be protected, and possibly start a family. Dirge is too impatient to deal with it, and too apathetic. He sees every situation that he’s in as bittersweet. As a rogue, you have freedom. But you also must deal with danger breathing down your neck every minute. However, Dirge, being the way his is, believes danger is his middle name. Of course, he's always wanted to know more about the clans, but ridicules there ways, calling the cats in the clans by the affectionate name "Clannies".
Dirge believes he is stronger alone when it comes to finding a mate. He had never known the feeling of love, because he was never loved by anyone himself. The tom finds joy in socializing with others, but is only looking to be entertained. A bit of a pessimist, Dirge drives most of his "friends" away. The young tom has a bit of bravado that some find irritating and annoying. It's all mostly an act, because he is really a scared kit, afraid to trust others. Despite all of the trouble he goes to appear aloof, Dirge is actually quite lonely. He roams, trying to find a group of rogues that might accept him as an ally to live with (though he won't admit it.)
Likes:
Dislikes:
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History:everything begins somewhere, right?
Aryn was a beautiful young traveler that didn’t really have a place to settle down. Lithe, with silky black fur, Aryn was an excellent prize to be won by a strong tom cat. She knew this, for she was constantly followed by toms who promised to make her happy. But Aryn wasn’t attracted to the flamboyant lifestyles of her pursuers; hunters of prey who fought for ever scrap of land they could find. Aryn preffered the idea of a human caring for her, so she could live a long and danger free life. Eventually, she caught the eyes of a clan cat. A ThunderClan tom; Woodclaw wasn’t known to be an extremely loyal warrior, but was a huge asset in the battle department to his clan. Very tall, very muscular, Woodclaw was a tiger amongst cats.
There romance had been brief. Aryn had grown weary of the chase, and decided that maybe life with Woodclaw in his ‘clan’ wouldn’t be so bad. Though Woodclaw had never intended to let Aryn live with him in ThunderClan. His reputation was hanging by a thread already, and he couldn’t risk bringing a loner into camp and asking permission for her to stay. But before Aryn had ever learned of this; a border skirmish with WindClan had ended Woodclaw’s life. Aryn was heartbroken, and completely lost. With no clue how she would be able to care for the kits growing inside her, Aryn contemplated suicide. All along, Woodclaw had been confiding to his mother, Petalfoot. After his death, the fat queen had gone into the woods to look for Aryn. Eventually, she found her and learned of the pregnancy. Quickly, she decided that she would care for the kits once the time came, and Aryn agreed to hand the over to her.
Once the kits were born, Aryn secretly named them with rogue names, and stole away in the night to give to Petalfoot, who waited for her just outside of the nursery. Petalfoot never saw her again, and she claimed the kits were her own, and only said that their father was a brave warrior of ThunderClan.taking that first step into the unknown.
Dirge, born the youngest progeny in his litter, fought to live a normal life. Juggernaut, on the other hand, lived to fight normality (and his little sibling.) The brothers grew up never knowing their true parents, and were apprentices in ThunderClan. They had respected mentors, clan names, and were hard-working apprentices. Juggernaut was a frightening black tabby, and much more built than Dirge. He often boasted of his power, his pride swelling to great amounts as he trained more and more. Dirge was shy, and didn't know how to talk to others very well. He hated to be told what to do by warriors, but was afraid to be defiant because of the risk or repercussion. His closest friend was a she-cat apprentice named Windpaw; some said they were the best hunting apprentices in the clan. They would often pair up and bring back unusually large amounts of prey to camp.
Juggernaut loved to make enemies. Seeing Dirge as a target, he would isolate his brother and beat him up, along with the help of other mean-spirited apprentices. Dirge would try to find Windpaw so he could hide and make casual conversation with her to supply him some solace, but she was often training with her mentor. Dirge would learn to defend himself, building equally powerful muscles as Juggernaut's. One day, things got out of control, and Dirge went into a frenzy of rage and injured an apprentice badly. Cats began questioning his loyalty; it was rumored that he was the son of a particularly troublesome warrior who’d died moons ago. Windpaw, completely consumed by training, was never their for her friend when he needed her the most. Dirge became bitterly angry at everyone around him, and wanted everyone to see that he wasn’t some inferior kit. He vowed to destroy Juggernaut to prove this, and began to believe that killing his brother would earn him the respect he deserved. Dirge knew that he deserved the name Juggernaut, not his crazy sibling who just found pleasure from tormenting him.
One day, while hunting, Dirge stumbled upon Juggernaut by himself, focused on stalking a squirrel. A great fury soared into Dirge, and he leapt upon his brother, taking him by surprise. The wrath that Dirge felt gave him enough power to take Juggernaut's life. Afterward, Dirge laughed for what seemed like a long time, and then began to weep. ThunderClan would punish him greatly, and he knew there was no way he could come up with a convincing lie in time. So he ran, and it scared him that he liked the way that he'd felt when he killed. Dirge liked how powerful he had been. Once he got away from clan life, Dirge knew immediately he would be a better rogue than a warrior. He had the freedom he deserved, and no one could tell him what to do.
He’s had multiple run-ins with the Coterie, but refuses to follow a group ever again. Dirge craves to be an individual, but desires even more to lead a group of his own someday. He believes he has the potential, strength, and brain-power to do so.
IC Example:that mornful Dirge
Leave it to a Clanny to get in a predicament like this. Dirge stifled a chuckle as the WindClan apprentice glared at him with a level of annoyance that beat his on a bad day. Though, a damaged paw was enough to constitute for a bad day. Immediately after he spoke, (practically before he was finished), Dirge could tell that this encounter would be a great deal of fun. After all, they were already good friends. "'What's this?'! This, you completely incompetent fool, is obviously an injured pad. Got a problem with it? " Dirge smirked at this, his tail lashing in amusement. The emerald-eyed she-cat continued. “Who are you? And what in StarClan's name are you doing in WindClan territory? Assuming you know what that is. ThunderClan crowfood."
Dirge yawned, bringing his left forepaw to his maw as if he were going to lick it, and closed his eyes. It irritated him that she had been eavesdropping on his solo narratives, although someone was bound to notice when someone else was talking to themselves. Whoever she was, she was either incredibly brave or stupid to talk back to a rogue of his size. Or maybe she had noticed the fact that he hadn’t exactly had an ample meal lately. A rough tongue quickly swiped at his oak brown forepaw. “Takes a fool to know a fool,” he purred, raising his saffron gaze to meet her eyes, “and yes, I do take issue with your paw.” He stood, and walked over to where his new “buddy” could see him better so she wouldn’t have to twist herself. “It’s really rude that you’ve been listening in on my personal conversations, but nevertheless, I will introduce myself. I’m Dirge, it’s nice to be acquainted with you.” He grinned, flashing his ivory canine teeth.
"Now, I'd like to know," he mused, "why you were out here alone. It seems Clannies always have their friends around on hunting patrols. Could've spared yourself an injury that you didn't need." Of course, the apprentice could have easily asked Dirge the same question. Weren't rogues supposed to travel in groups? Why didn't he have any friends with him? Dirge had never really had issues being on his own, until now. The thing about going out alone was that one was jeopardizing his entire life, even if he had absolutely no doubts in his fighting skills. It may have not seemed like it, but cats were truly social creatures, and did things better when they were grouped together. Like all animals, there were pecking orders, packs if you will. Without that organization, an individual could easily go mad and all those skills he'd acquired would amount to nothing quickly. After all, Dirge's hunting abilities were already beginning to decline, and he'd only been away from ThunderClan for about two moons.
By this time, Dirge had noticed that the sun was finally beginning to melt away the terrible humid air around them. This made him feel much lighter, so he stretched the front half of his body out, flexing his dark claws as he did. Lying down, he put his paws squarely under his chest and swept his tail around them, the little ringlets hanging just over the edge. Another thing slowly began to occur to Dirge, even before he had met the WindClanner. The Clans had these intense and meaningless rivalries that destroyed not only the lives, but the reputations of perfectly good cats. Why not just band together to make an ultimate Clan, he thought, a smile playing on his lips StarClan knows that learning how to swim would do those idiotic ThunderClannies some good. After stretching, Dirge spoke again, "So, ThunderClan isn't at the top of your list either? It would be smart of you not to.." A sudden low grumbling like thunder loudly interrupted Dirge. Looking around, Dirge questioned what would dare cut him off. The rumble came again, and this time Dirge felt a sharp pain in his stomach. "Ow," he growled, retching inward as he reacted to his hunger, "didn't think that no food for three and a half days would make me this weak." He straightened out again, shaking himself. He chuckled, and meowed, "Nothing I can't handle, I guess."
Dirge almost considered asking the Clanny if she could spare a bit of food, but there was not a rat's chance in hell that he would ask for the sympathy of a Clan cat. Not now, not ever again. His mother had been weak in giving up her sons to a Clan that didn't even want them. She had been weak in breaking down after her mate's death. Why hadn't she been there for him, when even his own brother despised him? Dirge had learned all about his mother when he had talked to Petalfoot, his caretaker. Apparently, they had been good friends and met secretly on occasion. It just went to show that there was corruption inside the Clans, and that nothing was as it seemed. Dirge couldn't put up with it, or his brother, so he left.
Slowly, Dirge's hunger was driving him to become bored once again. I should walk away. Why should I help another useless clan cat who hates me already?
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[/size]Who Are You Kiwi, if you please..
How Did You Find Us I have my ways of ‘finding’ things. (Seriously. I know my way around this place pretty well; I’ve been on and off for years.)
Other Characters: None yet.
