HOME | DD

Description
Let the crow sing for the fallen knight, and for the death of light.
Let the crow wing through the skies with it's black eyes.
Let the crow be.
Let the crow go free.

Name: Crow

Gender: Male

Breed: Tortoise shell Maine coon

Rank: TR Secondary

Accessories:
- Ebony mask, styled after a crow's head.
- Crow feathers
- Armband

Personality:
[ Fierce, silent, lethal, experienced, cunning ]

[ F i e r c e ]
On good days, Crow is company enough for those he 'trusts'. He's perfectly capable of a joke or two, and even sometimes may be considered 'gentlemanly'. But most other days, he's silent as death and only speaks when it's to threaten your death or to insult you. His claws are as sharp as a closely honed blade and he will not hesitate to let them rip your fur off of the very muscle of your flesh. He is one to be feared, and one not to let out of sight- lest you consider yourself safe from him.

[ S i l e n t ]
Quiet as death and just as dangerous, Crow will not give a warning or a hint of his intentions when faced with battle. His claws will fly before you can so much as boast about the so called strength you hold. He does not hold stock in meaningless words in battle, and rarely anywhere else, and will definitely use your own time wasted on talking against you.

[ L e t h a l ]
Trained to kill and taught to save mercy for those only who are worthy of a second chance, Crow willingly preforms any death commands from his Dictator and most times, enjoy it. Some may have told you that a snake is deadly, or a rat swarm. Even wasps who will sting you to death; none are more deadly to another cat as Crow is. Beware the shadows, he could be stalking you right now.

[ E x p e r i e n c e d ]
Crow has had a fair few years of experience as a killer for the Timeless Redemption. From birth he was taught to defend what was his and to allow no nonsense in his territory. Death to his enemies would come swiftly or slowly, depending on how lucky his foes were.

[ C u n n i n g ]
Without a doubt, Crow is very intelligent, much more than the typical mindless bodyguard that many seemed to think he was for Stone. He has ideas and thoughts of his own, and he's always judging you. No matter what he may seem like at the time. His mind wanders far from typical thought, bringing forth new concepts of death and fighting. Scenarios playing out logistics and reasonable chances between himself and other felines, many times he would win, the hypothetical battle bloody and satisfying to his mind. Crow holds many different tricks up his sleeve. Caution is needed, but rarely succeeds in saving a life.

Biography and Background:

[ All stories start somewhere ]
6 years ago, at a dark back water farm, and inside a broken and worn down barn, a small litter of kits was born. It was the middle of winter, and all was silent outside when the pitiful mewling suddenly came into existence, two kits letting out their first sounds of life. Both were large tortoise shell males, strong limbs the bright light of life glowing in their small newborn bodies. Their mother, Kraece, named them Crow, and Kirrin, the first being in honor of the near black pelt the kit bore at the time of birth, and the second after a long since dead family member.

The two kits grew up quickly, their eyes soon opening to reveal a vibrant aqua blue in Crow, and a stellar green glow in Kirrin. Their fur grew fluffy and thick, the lighter patches in Crow's fur becoming more apparent as he grew. They slowly became large Maine Coon males, proud shoulders and thick chests stuck out proudly whenever their mother would praise how much they've grown.

Crow was desperate for his mother's approval, always doing everything he could think of to try and impress her. Failed hunting attempts earned laughter. Laughter from his own mother embarrassed him, causing the young male to strive harder and harder for something other than that constant soft chuckle.

Kirrin and Crow were close; the two brothers rarely separated in their early moons, both feeling lost without the others' company. They were forced to quit this habit and lifestyle however, by their demanding father.

Ruthless and cold, their father seemed as though kits were the last thing he had ever desired. He only took it upon himself to teach them lessons about how to survive simply because the sooner they learned, the faster they could leave his barn.

Every hunting mission with Crow failed in some way or another, none of which being Crow's own fault. Only ignorance and inexperience were at fault, but his father didn't bother with those small details. Drev blamed Crow for every hungry night and every time Crow and Kirrin's mother's stomach growled. Crow felt deeply hurt by these faults, and despite his brother's encouraging and sympathetic words, Crow fell into a long span of depression, spawned from the constant unintended shame spells from his mother, and the aggressive verbal and mental assaults his father forced onto him.

[ Some stories have long journeys ]
At some point in their lives, the bombs started dropping. Disorientation from the first few months obscured Crows memory of the events and when they took place, only that it was both a blessing and a curse to him.

Hardened by his ingrained anger at his father and depressive attitude towards things at an older age, Crow and his brother eventually started to grow apart, their outlooks on life dramatically different; and when the bombs came, they were separated for what could have been the last time.

The first bomb had destroyed their barn, and the moment it hit, Crow and Kirrin both knew that their small family had died, even the small kits their mother had been nursing at the time. Kirrin grew panicked, trying to get Crow to come with him to the barn just in case they lived. Crow grimly denied though, stating that what had been done was done, and that the crater should be evidence enough to his brother.

The bombs continued to fall around them, sending shock waves through their very bones. Kirrin couldn't believe what his brother was telling him, knowing that the dark pelted male was pessimistic and grim now, but not to the degree of sentencing their family to death. They argued, and that argument grew and grew until they fought, fiercely attacking one another only because of how different their single point of views had change in the last few years.

Both came away from the fight bloody, and both retreated to a small distance from each other. Only then did the continuously falling bombs find their small hillock, the blast radius sending the two into darkness.

Eventually, Crow woke. His side was plastered with mud and water, having landed in a small creek a few yards from where he had last been standing. His body was beaten and bloody, his face alive with pain from the heat of the blast, and his mind wild with panic. The fight between the brothers forgotten, Crow had launched himself around the bomb site, ignoring his wounds and pain. Had his brother survived?

For what seemed like hours, Crow had searched for Kirrin, but there was no sign of him. The pessimistic side of his nature returned, though this time unwillingly, as he counted his brother among the dead.

Eventually, he left. Limping towards the only place he knew outside the old blasted barn. The distant shining city of London on the horizon.

Along the way, he met few cats. Most avoided him, and others seemed to have gone through the same sort of ordeal he had. During his journey, he encountered several cats who had died from wounds, and one seemed to be dragging along old possessions of a two-leg. One item had burst through the ragged sack the small cat had failed so miserably to drag. The unusual shape and color struck out to Crow, and with a start he had realized it was a mask, styled after his namesake.

On impulse he had taken the ebony object, thinking it over only a moment before testing to see if it had fit his large, proud head. It did. He felt protected in whatever thick material it had been carved from, and it covered some particularly harsh wounds on his face.

He took it with him, liking the way the other smaller cats he later encountered looked at him with it on. He soon stopped taking it off, only rare events making him do so.

Eventually along the main road to London, a small inconspicuous caravan drove parked just down the road in an old cleaned out field. Two-legs had stepped from the moving boxes they used, two of the three wearing bright red and white arm bands on their forelegs. Curiosity rarely drove Crow, but these strangely acting two-legs did. He had never seen them act so... strict yet pleased.

He had stalked up to them as quietly as he could with his injuries, watching from just behind their box's round paw. Despite his best efforts however, one of them noticed the shine of his newly acquired mask. Crow had stood frozen, their strange long paws pointing at him and speaking in a gibberish language that no cat could possibly understand.

Unbeknownst to him, these two-legs were in fact German spies, fresh recruits who had been given the last second chance to get into London just after the bombing started. They were praising his courage and strange looks, and soon started offering him small bits of dried out food they had taken after their dispatch. The humans had been informed of other spies taking feline companions, and this fearsome looking Coon looked a lot better off than the other mangy street cats they had passed and even nearly run over on the drive out to the city.

Crow, never knowing any reasonable fear of two-legs, cautiously padded up to them at the freely offered food, thinking it foolish of them to share food that didn't seem large enough to feed themselves.

Eventually he decided to keep them as his own, liking the way their beady eyes seemed impressed by his presence. They even seemed pleased when he leaped up onto one of their moving boxes. They threw food inside of it as well, as if expecting him to follow it. How could he not? They seemed like the only things that never instantly accused him of failure.

[ Other stories have yet to come to an end ]
They actually settled into London relatively quickly; not that Crow realized it. He wasn't knowledgeable in terms with city life.

For a long while, with much odd communicating between the two-legs and Crow, they accomplished much. Crow even earning his own band with the symbol they wore.

The days went fast, and many of them were a blur. Then came the day the spies were discovered.

It was hell and chaos that day, and he barely remembered it. He only remembered that the small sense of normalcy that he had attained, was gone.

For a long while after, he had struggled in the streets as many other newly homeless cats had. He was known for his crow mask and feathers, and the armband he refused to remove in honor of his German two-legs.

One day, at type of... event happened. The only term that could be used to describe that 'event', would be revolutionary. Suddenly, all the cats who had lost hope were rejuvenated, and seeking to find his own energy restored, he discovered Stone.

The rest is a bloody story of how he became Secondary, but that's a whole different tale.

All that matters now, is today.

Family
--- Parents:
Mother - "Kraece" /
Status: deceased

Father - "Drev" /
Status: deceased

--- Siblings:
Brother - "Kirrin" /
Status: unknown, presumed deceased

[ Ask if you want to relate your character to Crow! ]

Relationships:
= Neutral
= Friend
= Close Friend
= Crush
= Love
= Dislike/Hate
= Family
= Jealous
= Respect

Timeless Redemption

Stone = /
A strong Dictator. He deserves every rung of power he gains. I'm proud to be his Secondary and to crush the Avalon Everlasting cats, while under his command.

Avalon Everlasting:

Abana = /
May she be crushed farther into the ground by my leader than all the others. Yet still, you can't help but respect a cat who dares oppose Stone. Respect or think they're foolish enough to even try.
----

Example Roleplay:

Crow felt a shudder of disgust climb through his belly, his unseen lip curling with distaste at the scent that met his nose and mouth. The sickly scent of fear was truly a despicable aroma. With a quiet grunt, he stalked forward, ignoring the gross sign of his prey that drifted in the air. The large tom let out a grumbling hiss, a dangerous tone in his sparingly used voice. "Come out, come out wherever you are, it's time to meet the reaper." He purred, only his vibrant aqua green eyes visible behind the black as night mask he wore.

Nothing pleased him more than to see the bright eyes that greeted him around the next bend in the alley, fear-scent coming at him in waves as he approached the cowering cat. Oh how these hunts made him so much more free of the pessimism that cursed his inner thoughts. It was fun to see them squirm.

Oh my fucking god that took forever to write.

Okay, now, anyway. My friend InTheDappledRain has convinced me to join her group . It's a preeeeetty awesome group so far, but terribly small considering how unique everything is.

This is Crow, the first of two characters I plan on introducing into CaW.

His bio may seem a little farfetched towards the end, but it's 10:30AM and I haven't slept for nearly 30 hours.

=-=-=
(c) Crow/Art = Wulvryn

Description
Let the crow sing for the fallen knight, and for the death of light.
Let the crow wing through the skies with it's black eyes.
Let the crow be.
Let the crow go free.

Name: Crow

Gender: Male

Breed: Tortoise shell Maine coon

Rank: TR Secondary

Accessories:
- Ebony mask, styled after a crow's head.
- Crow feathers
- Armband

Personality:
[ Fierce, silent, lethal, experienced, cunning ]

[ F i e r c e ]
On good days, Crow is company enough for those he 'trusts'. He's perfectly capable of a joke or two, and even sometimes may be considered 'gentlemanly'. But most other days, he's silent as death and only speaks when it's to threaten your death or to insult you. His claws are as sharp as a closely honed blade and he will not hesitate to let them rip your fur off of the very muscle of your flesh. He is one to be feared, and one not to let out of sight- lest you consider yourself safe from him.

[ S i l e n t ]
Quiet as death and just as dangerous, Crow will not give a warning or a hint of his intentions when faced with battle. His claws will fly before you can so much as boast about the so called strength you hold. He does not hold stock in meaningless words in battle, and rarely anywhere else, and will definitely use your own time wasted on talking against you.

[ L e t h a l ]
Trained to kill and taught to save mercy for those only who are worthy of a second chance, Crow willingly preforms any death commands from his Dictator and most times, enjoy it. Some may have told you that a snake is deadly, or a rat swarm. Even wasps who will sting you to death; none are more deadly to another cat as Crow is. Beware the shadows, he could be stalking you right now.

[ E x p e r i e n c e d ]
Crow has had a fair few years of experience as a killer for the Timeless Redemption. From birth he was taught to defend what was his and to allow no nonsense in his territory. Death to his enemies would come swiftly or slowly, depending on how lucky his foes were.

[ C u n n i n g ]
Without a doubt, Crow is very intelligent, much more than the typical mindless bodyguard that many seemed to think he was for Stone. He has ideas and thoughts of his own, and he's always judging you. No matter what he may seem like at the time. His mind wanders far from typical thought, bringing forth new concepts of death and fighting. Scenarios playing out logistics and reasonable chances between himself and other felines, many times he would win, the hypothetical battle bloody and satisfying to his mind. Crow holds many different tricks up his sleeve. Caution is needed, but rarely succeeds in saving a life.

Biography and Background:

[ All stories start somewhere ]
6 years ago, at a dark back water farm, and inside a broken and worn down barn, a small litter of kits was born. It was the middle of winter, and all was silent outside when the pitiful mewling suddenly came into existence, two kits letting out their first sounds of life. Both were large tortoise shell males, strong limbs the bright light of life glowing in their small newborn bodies. Their mother, Kraece, named them Crow, and Kirrin, the first being in honor of the near black pelt the kit bore at the time of birth, and the second after a long since dead family member.

The two kits grew up quickly, their eyes soon opening to reveal a vibrant aqua blue in Crow, and a stellar green glow in Kirrin. Their fur grew fluffy and thick, the lighter patches in Crow's fur becoming more apparent as he grew. They slowly became large Maine Coon males, proud shoulders and thick chests stuck out proudly whenever their mother would praise how much they've grown.

Crow was desperate for his mother's approval, always doing everything he could think of to try and impress her. Failed hunting attempts earned laughter. Laughter from his own mother embarrassed him, causing the young male to strive harder and harder for something other than that constant soft chuckle.

Kirrin and Crow were close; the two brothers rarely separated in their early moons, both feeling lost without the others' company. They were forced to quit this habit and lifestyle however, by their demanding father.

Ruthless and cold, their father seemed as though kits were the last thing he had ever desired. He only took it upon himself to teach them lessons about how to survive simply because the sooner they learned, the faster they could leave his barn.

Every hunting mission with Crow failed in some way or another, none of which being Crow's own fault. Only ignorance and inexperience were at fault, but his father didn't bother with those small details. Drev blamed Crow for every hungry night and every time Crow and Kirrin's mother's stomach growled. Crow felt deeply hurt by these faults, and despite his brother's encouraging and sympathetic words, Crow fell into a long span of depression, spawned from the constant unintended shame spells from his mother, and the aggressive verbal and mental assaults his father forced onto him.

[ Some stories have long journeys ]
At some point in their lives, the bombs started dropping. Disorientation from the first few months obscured Crows memory of the events and when they took place, only that it was both a blessing and a curse to him.

Hardened by his ingrained anger at his father and depressive attitude towards things at an older age, Crow and his brother eventually started to grow apart, their outlooks on life dramatically different; and when the bombs came, they were separated for what could have been the last time.

The first bomb had destroyed their barn, and the moment it hit, Crow and Kirrin both knew that their small family had died, even the small kits their mother had been nursing at the time. Kirrin grew panicked, trying to get Crow to come with him to the barn just in case they lived. Crow grimly denied though, stating that what had been done was done, and that the crater should be evidence enough to his brother.

The bombs continued to fall around them, sending shock waves through their very bones. Kirrin couldn't believe what his brother was telling him, knowing that the dark pelted male was pessimistic and grim now, but not to the degree of sentencing their family to death. They argued, and that argument grew and grew until they fought, fiercely attacking one another only because of how different their single point of views had change in the last few years.

Both came away from the fight bloody, and both retreated to a small distance from each other. Only then did the continuously falling bombs find their small hillock, the blast radius sending the two into darkness.

Eventually, Crow woke. His side was plastered with mud and water, having landed in a small creek a few yards from where he had last been standing. His body was beaten and bloody, his face alive with pain from the heat of the blast, and his mind wild with panic. The fight between the brothers forgotten, Crow had launched himself around the bomb site, ignoring his wounds and pain. Had his brother survived?

For what seemed like hours, Crow had searched for Kirrin, but there was no sign of him. The pessimistic side of his nature returned, though this time unwillingly, as he counted his brother among the dead.

Eventually, he left. Limping towards the only place he knew outside the old blasted barn. The distant shining city of London on the horizon.

Along the way, he met few cats. Most avoided him, and others seemed to have gone through the same sort of ordeal he had. During his journey, he encountered several cats who had died from wounds, and one seemed to be dragging along old possessions of a two-leg. One item had burst through the ragged sack the small cat had failed so miserably to drag. The unusual shape and color struck out to Crow, and with a start he had realized it was a mask, styled after his namesake.

On impulse he had taken the ebony object, thinking it over only a moment before testing to see if it had fit his large, proud head. It did. He felt protected in whatever thick material it had been carved from, and it covered some particularly harsh wounds on his face.

He took it with him, liking the way the other smaller cats he later encountered looked at him with it on. He soon stopped taking it off, only rare events making him do so.

Eventually along the main road to London, a small inconspicuous caravan drove parked just down the road in an old cleaned out field. Two-legs had stepped from the moving boxes they used, two of the three wearing bright red and white arm bands on their forelegs. Curiosity rarely drove Crow, but these strangely acting two-legs did. He had never seen them act so... strict yet pleased.

He had stalked up to them as quietly as he could with his injuries, watching from just behind their box's round paw. Despite his best efforts however, one of them noticed the shine of his newly acquired mask. Crow had stood frozen, their strange long paws pointing at him and speaking in a gibberish language that no cat could possibly understand.

Unbeknownst to him, these two-legs were in fact German spies, fresh recruits who had been given the last second chance to get into London just after the bombing started. They were praising his courage and strange looks, and soon started offering him small bits of dried out food they had taken after their dispatch. The humans had been informed of other spies taking feline companions, and this fearsome looking Coon looked a lot better off than the other mangy street cats they had passed and even nearly run over on the drive out to the city.

Crow, never knowing any reasonable fear of two-legs, cautiously padded up to them at the freely offered food, thinking it foolish of them to share food that didn't seem large enough to feed themselves.

Eventually he decided to keep them as his own, liking the way their beady eyes seemed impressed by his presence. They even seemed pleased when he leaped up onto one of their moving boxes. They threw food inside of it as well, as if expecting him to follow it. How could he not? They seemed like the only things that never instantly accused him of failure.

[ Other stories have yet to come to an end ]
They actually settled into London relatively quickly; not that Crow realized it. He wasn't knowledgeable in terms with city life.

For a long while, with much odd communicating between the two-legs and Crow, they accomplished much. Crow even earning his own band with the symbol they wore.

The days went fast, and many of them were a blur. Then came the day the spies were discovered.

It was hell and chaos that day, and he barely remembered it. He only remembered that the small sense of normalcy that he had attained, was gone.

For a long while after, he had struggled in the streets as many other newly homeless cats had. He was known for his crow mask and feathers, and the armband he refused to remove in honor of his German two-legs.

One day, at type of... event happened. The only term that could be used to describe that 'event', would be revolutionary. Suddenly, all the cats who had lost hope were rejuvenated, and seeking to find his own energy restored, he discovered Stone.

The rest is a bloody story of how he became Secondary, but that's a whole different tale.

All that matters now, is today.

Family
--- Parents:
Mother - "Kraece" /
Status: deceased

Father - "Drev" /
Status: deceased

--- Siblings:
Brother - "Kirrin" /
Status: unknown, presumed deceased

[ Ask if you want to relate your character to Crow! ]

Relationships:
= Neutral
= Friend
= Close Friend
= Crush
= Love
= Dislike/Hate
= Family
= Jealous
= Respect

Timeless Redemption

Stone = /
A strong Dictator. He deserves every rung of power he gains. I'm proud to be his Secondary and to crush the Avalon Everlasting cats, while under his command.

Avalon Everlasting:

Abana = /
May she be crushed farther into the ground by my leader than all the others. Yet still, you can't help but respect a cat who dares oppose Stone. Respect or think they're foolish enough to even try.
----

Example Roleplay:

Crow felt a shudder of disgust climb through his belly, his unseen lip curling with distaste at the scent that met his nose and mouth. The sickly scent of fear was truly a despicable aroma. With a quiet grunt, he stalked forward, ignoring the gross sign of his prey that drifted in the air. The large tom let out a grumbling hiss, a dangerous tone in his sparingly used voice. "Come out, come out wherever you are, it's time to meet the reaper." He purred, only his vibrant aqua green eyes visible behind the black as night mask he wore.

Nothing pleased him more than to see the bright eyes that greeted him around the next bend in the alley, fear-scent coming at him in waves as he approached the cowering cat. Oh how these hunts made him so much more free of the pessimism that cursed his inner thoughts. It was fun to see them squirm.

Oh my fucking god that took forever to write.

Okay, now, anyway. My friend InTheDappledRain has convinced me to join her group . It's a preeeeetty awesome group so far, but terribly small considering how unique everything is.

This is Crow, the first of two characters I plan on introducing into CaW.

His bio may seem a little farfetched towards the end, but it's 10:30AM and I haven't slept for nearly 30 hours.

=-=-=
(c) Crow/Art = Wulvryn