Character Name: Cimmerian- Cim•me•ri•an
Character Age: 17 moons
Gender: male
Alliance: None at the moment
Rank: Loner
Appearance (6 or more sentences): To say that Cimmerian has a dark pelt would be simply a disgrace to him and the word dark. One cannot say that this cat is such a boring word as dark! His sleek ink black coat has a luxurious look to it. The short haired yet scruffiness giving him a look of expertise and skill at living on ones own. From the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail he is an ebony blackness.
Cimmerian's eyes are as beautiful as the night for which it looks as if they were made from. The swimming emptiness of his eyes as one looks in them makes it feel as though one could gaze into them forever and never find all their questions answered. They to are black, but they sparkle so in sun or moonlight it seems they glow like a fire.
He isn't a necessarily big tom-cat Cimmerian, he's about average, a normal sized cat. His strong muscles keep him strong and speedy; his paws give him firm control over prey when hunting, or cats when fighting. They are unable to escape, they might be able to if he had smaller paws or bigger paws.
The only abnormal thing about Cimmerian would be the length of his graceful tail. It's long enough that if curled around can reach his shoulders.
Personality (6 or more sentences--these sentences form their own section and do NOT count towards the 4 groups below. Those are additional requirements):
Cimmerian enjoys to keep to himself, he is not a social type of cat, in fact he'd rather be alone than be with anyone. He is normally very patient and calm if he is around others, but he never looks very interested in what they have to say.
One could even say he was prideful and arrogant, thinking he is superior over all. In truth to those things it indeed appears that Cimmerian does think he knows more than anyone else, and he won't hesitate to prove you wrong.
He is not one to fight, he prefers to keep his paws clean, in both ways. Cimmerian is a clean freak at times with his belongs, but mostly when it comes to his pelt does he go over the top. He washes three times a day, spending over thirty minutes per wash on making sure the sun shines on it just so.
---Likes (at least 3): Likes to keep to himself, keep clean, be at peace, and announce his opinions.
--- Dislikes (at least 3): Fighting, disorganization, being around others, and listening to them if he's around.
---Strengths (No MORE than 5): He is very good at hunting, he doesn't mean to but is very good at making people irritated with him.
---Weaknesses (At least 3): His long tail can often get in the way of his everyday duties around his home. Do to keeping clean he stays away from any place muddy or dirty, no matter what is in it. Lastly he's other weakness is social skills, even if he hates being around others.
History (8 or more sentences): To start with his history you must first start with history. Before the Clans came, before the Rouge groups, the Anti-Clans, and Tribes, at the time when all the cats had enough prey to live at peace with one another there were two cats. Monarch, a orange and black tabby tom with golden eyes and a lust for power, the other was Queen, who was a beautiful silver spotted regal looking she-cat and had no wanting of anything power-hungry except Monarch.
The two cats were deeply in love and one day had kits, two kits exact. Ones name was Duke, a black tom with silvery whiskers, a long bushy tail, and green eyes. The other, his sister, was named Duchess and she had long white fur, with a sweet looking disposition that shone through her lilac eyes. She had silver ear tips and tail tip.
These two grew up to be strong cats capable of fighting. Their father made mock battles a priority everyday to sharpen their skills, and by the age of 11 moons they could fight and win almost every battle that came along.
But fighting wasn't the only thing they were taught, their mother taught them to love, to thine heart be true, and not to quickly jump into battles you know you can win. Duchess loved this part if the day, for it as already be said that she has a very sweet personality. Duke found them boring, but understood the importance in his mothers gentle speech.
Time passed and soon the two parted ways and lives their own lives, but we're only going to follow one- Duchess. But I'll tell you this Duke's was also a very good one, a tale I'll save for another day however for we are talking about his sister.
The she-cat traveled the lands in more grace, mercy, and beauty anyone had ever come across or received. Many suitors came with great gifts to ask her to be their mates, she kindly refused them all and gave them a farewell as she traveled on. But all that beauty cannot go untainted.
One day as Duchess lay sleeping a tom some know as Daemon came across this piece of beauty. She woke to find him sitting before her, she smiled up at him. A few moments of silence passed before he finally spat it out, he asked her to be his mate, and like all the others she kindly refused.
Daemon, drunk by his almost instant love for her and enraged by her instant refusal he pinned her down r.ped her on the spot, poor Duchess didn't know what even happened before it was too late. She tried to fight him but he was already gone, just vanished never to be seen again. Though some say he never left, he followed her in the shadows, protecting his love even to his dying day, one will never know.
Duchess gave birth to a litter of three healthy kittens, a gray she-cat that she named Ashes, a silvery she-cat she named Ghost, and a midnight black tom she named Cimmerian. Each name described something, Ashes: the ashes of her heart, Ghost: how Daemon disappeared, and Cimmerian: the darkness of the toms heart and the color of his pelt.
So Cimmerian, Ash, and Ghost grew up and left their deprecate ways, one went to live in BoneClan, the other a kittypet, and the third became a loner watching over their mother until- inevitably- she died and Cimmerian was alone.
Roleplay Sample (Required for first advanced bio): "Come on little ones." Urged Duchess, "We're almost there." She looked behind her to be sure all three kits were following behind. They were yet rather slowly.
"Mommy, where are we going?" One squeaked, "My feet hurt." Her brother muttered something causing the silver she-cat to take a swipe at him.
Duchess purred, "Calm down you two, we'll be there soon enough Ghost." She said letting them catch up to her, "Lets rest a bit before we go one." She said yawning. The three kittens plopped to the ground plum tired out from all the walking. Cimmerian lay on a soft bit of moss at his mothers feet, chest rising and falling fast as he panted from exhaustion. His little body was slick with sweat from all the walking, but his brothers and sisters were playing happily. His mother looked worried as she looked at him laying there tired, Duchess knew Cimmerian wasn't as big as his sisters or as strong, he never did play with them, but he liked to play gentler games with his mother, so he didn't wear himself out.
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