Post by Where We Began on Feb 21, 2013 18:14:33 GMT -5
Name: Crosspaw
Position: Warrior
Gender: Male
Age: 35 moons
Clan: WindClan
History:
Cross was originally born of two rogues named Calibre (father) and Chassepot (mother) or Chassy for short. He had two brothers, named Lance and Skean. Skean was the youngest but he had something bordering a Napoleon Complex; he thought he was five times bigger than he actually was. Lance was the oldest kit of the litter and flaunted that through rough play, oftentimes getting overly violent with his two younger siblings. Of course, Cross stayed as far away as possible. Calibre had a reputation as the best/worst alley cat that lived in their Twoleg surroundings, while Chassy had a reputation of a heartbreaking she-cat who could slash you five ways to Sunday and not bat an eyelid.
But, the story doesn't start there. It starts on a rainy day, in an overturned, pitiful excuse for a cardboard box. Lance and Skean were going at it in another one of their "playful learning experiences" with Cross watching in the background. Chassy and Calibre were out in the alleys of the Twoleg cities, picking fights or breaking hearts, depending on who they were with. Calibre had said something about "settling a score with that lowlife Maxim once and for all" shortly before leaving. Maxim was a rival gang leader that Calibre had been fighting with for moons. To Lance and Skean, it was all exciting. But to Cross, it was repetitive.
"He goes off to fight Maxim all the time and he always comes back with scars and wounds and he doesn't even care! Man, dad's so cool...!" Skean exclaimed.
"It's all fun and games 'til someone loses an eyeball." Cross sighed, laying down.
"I think Dad's done that to someone!" Lance said, "Maxim's brother, I think it was. Kukri, that was his name."
Cross rolled his eyes. Lance stared at him for a moment before suddenly hissing a question.
"What's your problem? Why aren't you proud of dad?" he demanded.
"I won't be proud of somecat who kills and mauls for fun." Cross replied smoothly. He didn't mind the superior choice of words that fell from his mouth. It was all natural to him. He laughed when he saw the bewildered expression that crossed Skean and Lance's faces.
"Talk cat, will you?" Skean snapped.
"I am talking cat. You just aren't literate enough to understand." Cross said.
"...Are you calling us dumb?" Lance asked suspiciously.
"I rest my case." Cross looked up at the quiet sounds of Chassy's pawsteps as the she-cat came back.
"Get up, kits. We're moving somewhere new." the she-cat smiled, her eyes bright.
"Where?" Lance asked, leaping up, "Where's dad?"
"Daddy's at our new home, Lancey." Chassy said, "We're moving to Rat Heights."
"Rat Heights?" Cross' head shot up, alarmed, "That's where Maxim and his family lives!"
"Not anymore, Cross." Chassy told him, "Daddy took care of that pesky old Maxim and Kukri, too."
"He got rid of them? Yay!" Skean exclaimed, doing a small dance of joy. "Yay! Daddy's the best!"
"How can you be so happy?" Cross spat, turning on him. Skean froze, surprised. Chassy and Lance stared.
"He killed them! Did you know that Maxim had kits our age? Dad went and killed them!" the peeved Cross hissed. Chassy's eyes darkened.
"You should be more grateful, you little brat." she growled, "We're finally moving out of this sopping hole and moving to a place with actual food. Not rotten Twoleg garbage."
"I won't be grateful to a murderer!" Cross declared, backing towards the entrance of the box.
"He's not a murderer!" Lance exclaimed, "He killed them to make life easier for us! He loves us!"
"If he does, he sure has a funny way of showing it." Cross muttered. "But whether he did it for us or to settle a score, he's still a...a...a rat-hearted killer!"
"Then why don't you join Maxim and that worthless one-eye Kukri, if you care about them so much?" Chassy asked, her claws sliding out. She lunged, but Cross was already out of the box and into the storm. His family's furious yowling sounded behind him and he closed his ears to the sound, focusing on maneuvering the dark, wet alleyway.
His paws made a quiet smacking sound as they hit the pavement of the city and he exploded out of the alley, his fur sticking to his body. There was a road before him, and he couldn't see, hear, or feel any of those Twoleg...things that dominated the paths. Cross could still hear his family behind him, getting closer. Looking back, he could see their flashing eyes as they passed underneath the streetlights. He felt a rumbling in his paws and realized a Twoleg machine was hurtling down the path. His family was approaching at a fast rate as well, and he had to make a split-second decision.
Stay and be clawed to death by your family...
Or risk it all on the path?
He inhaled a breath reeking of wet concrete and took the chance.
He dashed across the path, determination giving him a bolt of speed. From the corner of his eye, he saw the shiny road illuminated by the car as it got closer and closer. His heart skipped a beat and he almost froze in terror, but he shook it off and put on a burst of speed. He barreled across the road and onto the unkempt grass on the other side just as the machine raced past behind. He collapsed on the grass gratefully, looking back to see if his family had followed. They hadn't, and were milling about the curb side uncertainly. That car had been the leader of a stream of machines that now flooded past the road, cutting them off from each other.
With a smile, Cross recovered from his ordeal and set off across the moor. It was peaceful here.
No Twoleg noises, no crazy dogs, and no murderous kin to disturb him.
He found the WindClan border and stood by it, unsure. He could tell that it belonged to a group of cats, but they weren't city cats. Certainly not alley cats.
He encountered a border patrol as he was busy stalking a bird on the moor. He was testing out his jumping ability when he heard the surprised meow of an older cat behind him. Looking around, Cross saw them and ran back to the border.
"What is your name, young cat?" one of them asked.
Cross stopped for a moment before a queer light shone in his eyes and he responded.
"Call me Cross. Ex-City cat."
Personality: Cross is a determined, outgoing cat. He likes challenges and doesn't back down from one, provided it's from someone of his age or rank. He is abhorrent to fighting and needless killing, and sees it all as "useless murder." He isn't one to back down from a fight with a good reason behind it. He is intrigued by herbs and medicine cat ways, but he isn't sure if he'd like to become a medicine cat yet.
Extra: Cross is a lithe, light ginger and black tom. He resembles a Cross fox in some ways, from the way his black markings intersect along his head, his spine, and down the top of his tail. His eyes are a bright green and his limbs are skinnier than others, from his citified origins, including scarce food and scarcer medical attention.
Ever since his apprenticeship, Cross has been involved in many fights and near-misses with death. As such, his pelt is now littered with scars and blemishes. His claws are also wrenched and unsightly due to an incident with a rockfall in his past.
