{CONTENT.material} fierce~~loner

[.::contrition::.]

Name: Fierce
Age: 14 moons
Rank: loner
Clan: loner
Physical Description: Fierce is a long-haired norweigan forest cat. He was raised as a pedigree from a breedery, south of all the clans. He was thrown out of the breedery for agression, therefore he cannot remember his parents, therefore it isn't really easy to distinguish where his looks came from. He is a cream and ginger tabby with white tinging his ears, tail, and covering his paws and muzzle and chest. His eyes are beautiful for the fact that they are the same exact color as his ginger tabby markings. His most distinguishable feature is his build. He is a young tom, though even that he is young, his muscles can prove otherwise. He isn't swift or fast, but he has brains and muscle to stand his fleeing point. It is rare for him to be defeated by one cat alone.
--picture here
Personality: Fierce isn't exactly the nicest loner there ever was. He likes to torture his enemies, and usually chooses the most vicious option he can, rather than talk things out. Fierce is also the 'ladies man'. He loves she-cats, which could be a bad thing for someone like him, though he usually never sticks to one mate. Fierce is a strong image and role-model for most young apprentices who see him, though he hates younger cats, and wishes they weren't ever around. Fierce knows much about the clans, and actually thinks they are the most idiotic things alive. He isn't a believer in StarClan, and trashes them all the time whenever they are mentioned. The cream tom also likes to talk Clan cats into following him, which is seduction for most she-cats who run into him.
History: Born in a breedery far south of the Clans, Fierce was born with the name Curly. Fierce was the largest tom in his litter of six, and the rebel of the cattery. When Fierce turned only an amazing six weeks, he took on the main tom of the cattery, and slaughtered him to death. The breeder, which is understandably, threw him out in the cold to die. Poor Curly isn't one to be murdered though. He ran and ran as far north as he could, until he ran into a group of cats, who seemed far more agressive then he could imagine. They didn't want him around their 'territory', and chased Curly away. From that day forward, he took on the name Fierce to rid his memory of the breedery, which scarred him at such the young age. He taught himself how to hunt, and learned from watching the group of cats, from which he soon learned to be BoneClan, and learned to fight on his own. He is living proof that you would rather be with more than one cat than on your own.
Role Play Example:
"You are nothing but a kit!" The tabby tom continued, queens beginning to form around the group. Curly recognized his mother and siblings begin to padd behind him, as if telling him that this wasn't the proper way to pick a fight. "You couldn't harm a single hair on my pelt even if you tried."
Anger boiled inside the long-haired tom as queens began to rub against the tabby, telling him things like: "It's just a young kit, Tommy." and "We love you Tommy." or "He won't stand a chance."
"You dare defy me! Just because you are able to get three she-cats pregnant every five hours doesn't make you undefeatable!" Curly hissed, sheathing his claws. He smirked as Tommy's eyes grew wide with hatred. What Curly had just done was a major insult. You weren't ever supposed to challenge the lead stud. But, Curly knew Tommy was wrong to murder his own blood sister.
"Watch your furball." the tabby hissed to Curly's mother, sheathing his claws to show Curly's mother that he would kill her too if she didn't shut Curly up as well.
"Watch your mouth. Talk to my mother ever again like that and I'll murder you in front of your she-cats!" the cream cat threatened again, this time tensing his muscles to pounce.
The tabby turned away, hissing and muttering under his breath. Taking nothing but a battle-cry, the cream kitten jumped onto the toms back, viciously scraping out his eyes. Tommy tried to get him off, but it was obvious the tabby hadn't been trained in battle combat before, and could only stand motionless as the kit scratched him.
Tommy fell to the ground, his breathing stopped, and his heart finally frozen.
{CONTENT FROM THIS POINT TO NEXT}
Curly slowed his breathing as red blood filled the cracks in the tile, flowing over his paws. He had killed him. His blood stained the floor, the scent burning the cats eyes as decay took it's place. The kit had completely scraped the toms eyes out, only two bloody sockets remained.
{CONTENT FROM THIS POINT ABOVE}
"You killed him." A voice said, and Curly looked around him to see who had said it. It was his sister. "You must leave the breedery now." She hissed, Curly's mother staring in astonishment as a nofur came running down the stone steps to see the scenery.
She began to yell, and scream as she saw what happened to her lead selling cat. After a few minutes of weeping over the death of her cat, she turned to give Curly a dimm look.
She yelled, picked Curly up, and threw him as far as she could. The kit ran as far as he could. That would be the last memory he had of the cattery.
Other: Sorry it's a little gorey-ish at the bottom.

[Brackentail]

Accepted.