Posts by COAL.

coal's biography and information

C O A L

⇻ OVERVIEW.

— NAME / ALIASES: coal

— AGE: 30 moons

— GENDER: male

— ALLEGIANCE AND RANK: loner

⇻ PHYSICAL.

— BREED: maine coon mix

— DESCRIPTION: tall, well-muscled tom with ghostly blue eyes. his fur is mostly white, but his legs, tail, forehead, and a patch around his right eye are black. unusually long fangs protrude beneath his top lip. his voice is deep and harsh, commanding attention and respect.

ref

— SCENT: rainstorm

— ACCENT: heavy british [reference ]

⇻ PERSONALITY.

— ALIGNMENT: chaotic neutral [handbook]

— SUMMARY OF TRAITS:

⇻ RELATIONSHIPS.

— FAMILY:

— MENTOR FIGURE: n/a

— ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP: n/a

— TRUSTS:

— DISTRUSTS:

— RESPECTS:

⇻ OTHER.

— TITLES:

— CHOICE AWARDS:

So his pack was gone. They were dust, dandelion seedlings dispersed in the wind; however you spun it, they'd deserted, and they weren't coming back. Curse them. Curse his miserable father, for dying. Curse him, for failing in his life's one task. For failing his birthright. He was meant to be a king; now he carried no meaning at all.

He hated people with such a vigorous passion, it seemed improbable that he'd ever seek out their company again. But no matter how cold or heartless those rogues had been, they had at least been -- physically close, if in no other way. No matter how sour, bitter, or otherwise unpleasantly flavored Coal was to be cheated out of his crown, no matter how deeply his resent extended to all creatures (related to his loss or not), he could not live in solitude. He did not know how.

Such was his paradox: he despised as equally as he needed -- a conundrum despicable in itself. He didn't want to need. The word was disgusting, whiny, pathetic. That it could describe him was absolutely nauseating.

He waited on the border; not out of hope or desire, but out of wretched, loathsome need. His claws dug into the earth, as if trying to tear the flesh from the ground itself in a laughably impotent display of barely constrained rage. The customs of these lands were not unknown to him. He'd heard the stories; of clans and leaders, deputies and warriors, mentors and apprentices. Not so different from the way he'd grown up. Vomit-worthy.

If only everyone else, worms that they were, would just die already. If only they had the good sense to leave this world to its only inhabitant worthy of walking it blissfully alone. But even that wouldn't be enough, because he'd been born damned -- deplorable enough to need.

i want your gold

but you want my life

"I'm looking for something, all right," he rasped, regarding the youngster with something already approaching disdain. He knew he had to appear a respectable candidate for their ranks -- but this was just some child. Already, being confronted like this by the little weevil, his position conspicuously that of the lesser who had to grovel and please, made his back teeth grind.

"ShadowClan. Heard of it, kid? I'm here to join." Scripted words were just next on the tip of his tongue, ready for the obvious question: "What are you going to do for us?" Of course, there was no guarantee Hotpaw would even ask. How unfair it all was! He'd envisioned this encounter as between himself and a leader -- why did he have to make his case to this brat, play out this underwhelming substitute for the scene he'd predicted in his head? Cheated again, he thought bitterly. Cheated out of a suitably dramatic introduction to this new chapter of his life. "Why don't you run along and get someone more important for me to talk to?"

i want your gold

but you want my life

A harsh laugh escaped him at Hotpaw's bold words. Who taught this kid to talk? They should be fired. Before he'd come up with a response, a little girl had joined the would-be border guard's side, and he was forced to consider whether ShadowClan was populated with anybody but babies. "I could be," he agreed emphatically, although the warning had obviously not been meant for him. Would he hurt a child? Probably not. Unless it was really necessary -- there were always extenuating circumstances, like two little brats at the border who wouldn't let him in despite his obvious qualifications.

"Please do," He beseeched Larkpaw dryly, sitting at the border with a weary thump. If a leader was coming, then maybe this embarrassment of an affair could be salvaged. Unfortunately, it also meant that perhaps he'd have to hold his tongue with the youth, lest the vermin tattle.

He set his jaw in display of his overgrown fangs, glistening and dangerous, as his icy gaze settled on Hotpaw once again. Upstart, he thought derisively. Prideful little rat. Those words could easily describe himself, too -- a fact he chose to strategically ignore for now. Well, the apprentice would be eating his words once -- Briarstar, was it? -- arrived, and opened the gates of this miserable place for him. His whiskers twitched with anticipated amusement. Oh, his (childish, petty) revenge would be sweet.

i want your gold

but you want my life

"Coal," he answered easily, tipping his head with an obnoxious grin. Why so defensive, border-guard? I've done nothing wrong. Nothing but give off unimaginably unsettling vibes during his whole time at the border.

But even in his arrogance he sensed that this was all going nowhere, that these uppity little insects would go crying to Briarstar and accuse him of crimes he hadn't committed. His gaze swept like a lighthouse beacon between them, remembering faces, even if he hadn't the chance to learn names.

"No matter," he hissed dismissively, as if he hadn't been the one to approach the clan in the first place. "I don't require the company of such an unpleasant hive of obedient little wasps," he scoffed. "Serve your queen. There are yet more clans." He stood, a mountain of shaggy white fur. Spite drove his paws marching away from the border and the cats who had gathered there. Hotpaw, Larkpaw, Valerianfire, and Oliveslip -- he'd remember them. And they'd be sorry they turned away the strongest warrior their pitiable clan could have ever seen.

i want your gold

but you want my life

Rage carried his paws, curses muttered under his breath lost easily to the gentle breeze. So he'd struck out with ShadowClan -- they could go to hell, as far as he was concerned. With so many other clans to choose from, what matter was a few mistakes here or there?

He'd take a crack at another joining soon, but first he needed to eat. This indecisive weather was a proper pain in the ass, and it seemed to be sending all the prey down into the warm embrace of the earth. That was quite unacceptable. He'd rather it scurry into the embrace of his stomach.

Coal could've chosen to make the journey to neutral hunting grounds. It would've taken a day or so, but for a cat in his prime it would've been no issue. He hadn't done so. Knowing how fiercely protective the clan cats were of their borders, especially during these times of scarcity, he'd wandered onto ThunderClan turf in search of food nonetheless. He was guided, as always, by an arrogant assumption: there was no threat he couldn't best, no cat he couldn't send scurrying with an angered stare and drawn claws. So what need was there to go to Fourtrees?

His loner scent clashed obnoxiously with the pervasive stink of what was decidedly ThunderClan land, and he unnecessarily tore up clumps of grass and dirt as he went for no reason other than aimless vindication. Eventually, a squirrel managed to run into his claws, and he began heading back to the border at a deliberate pace. The kill hung proudly from his jaws, a haughty invitation to any cat who dared challenge him.

// feel free to fight/capture/argue!

i want your gold

but you want my life

What did this child think he was doing, going for the throat in such a laughable facsimile of deadly combat? Just as when he'd approached ShadowClan, it seemed that his first welcome would be given by an insolent apprentice -- a transgression that had his teeth grinding in raw frustration. Why was he being made to deal with these pests instead of a worthy opponent? Where were the adults of some rank or title, prowess or experience?

"Move aside, you nasty little creature," he rasped, a heavy paw swinging in a blow meant to knock the boy's lunge aside. He wasn't particularly inclined to kill the overzealous border-guard, but Coal thought it would be best if his young arrogance was put in its place. Who was he, just barely off his mother's teat, to challenge someone full-grown and battle-hardened? "Don't put your claws where your teeth can't follow, rat," he hissed, baring overgrown fangs. "If I wasn't so charitable I'd cut you open nose to tail."

i want your gold

but you want my life

God, was every clan full to bursting with these hot-headed youngsters? If so, he was beginning to question his own sanity in even attempting to join one of them. Being surrounded full-time by ankle-biting gnats didn't seem like his idea of a good time, even if it meant not being utterly alone.

He dodged backwards, but the smaller, more agile apprentice's claws still glanced off his side and left light scratches there. His pale gaze froze and hot rage flared in his head. How dare you - He whirled on the apprentice, suddenly feeling altogether less charitable. His claws shot out from their sheaths, all of a sudden ready to be used, when Pumpkinstrut forced her way between them.

Words, not claws! For a moment he felt vindicated, an unpleasant grin breaking across his face. Obviously, she wasn't on his side, but he welcomed the presence of a real warrior into the confrontation.

"I'd leave the prey, but I caught it myself, madam," he said poisonously, obnoxious smile never leaving all the while. "So it might be that a real fight is in order." The black and white tom glared cockeyed at her, beckoning blood to be spilled.

// pumpkin + pepper can injure him, he'll be run off the territory soon! sorry he's such an asshole

i want your gold

but you want my life

The grizzled, ill-tempered loner had had enough (despite the fact that irritating the clan cats had been his aim in the first place). "Sure, kid," he growled, his overgrown ego well-insulted by this point. The squirrel, basically inconsequential to the conflict at this point, had been dropped some meters back. It made quite the pathetic excuse for his battle-hunger, and it seemed he wasn't even willing to simply run off with the thing to satisfy the grumbling in his stomach. Coal, utterly unreasonable as ever, squared his shoulders towards Pepperpaw.

"Let's see how a little clan apprentice does against a real --" He lunged forward without warning, words cutting off as his outstretched claws shot towards Pepperpaw's shoulder. He followed no code, and held no honor; to harm came as naturally as breathing, even if the younger tom was merely a child.

i want your gold

but you want my life

hey everyone! meet coal, professional asshat. the loner group that he'd spent his lifetime waiting to lead has recently disintegrated following the death of its former king, coal's father, and now he's out to take revenge on the world. he was raised under harsh conditions, as the loners followed a group hierarchy that superficially resembled the clans without any of the honor. coal is used to violence as a way to prove himself and solve problems, and his bruised, massive ego doesn't help calm the storm.

i'm currently playing him as wandering from clan to clan and generally being an utter nuisance, and i'm planning for him to join some clans at various points for plots. for now, i was hoping for him to form some relationships with clan cats.

the easiest type of plot would be enemies -- coal is volatile, arrogant, and quick to anger, so getting into fights is a fact of his life. he won't kill/maim without extreme provocation, but it's possible if you want to go that way.

friendship/alliance plots could also work, but he generally only can respect cats of similar brutality. if anyone would like to be a partner in crime -- stealing, attacking, scamming, etc., that could work well!

these are just some suggestions, so if you have any other ideas i'd love to hear! thanks for reading <3

As much as it pained him to concede, Coal had been forced to retreat to neutral territory. Muttered curses on the clan cats and their utterly grating superiority had dropped from his lips all the way to Fourtrees, perfectly audible to any cat within earshot. Good, let them hear. Let everyone.

Body and pride both scratched and stinging, he'd pressed himself angrily into the crook of a massive tree's roots, eyeing the well-worn land for easy prey. He'd been searching for songbirds and mice, but when his pale gaze caught sight of the little ThunderClanner -- carrying the same stink as that pair who had driven him out of their territory and sent him here in the first place -- he realized with a smirk that he'd found his quarry.

Heavy, arrogant paws carried the loner to the small mound of dirt where he'd watched Shadepaw bury his catch. With deliberate claws, he scraped away a layer of earth -- loudly, conspicuously, gaze focused on the apprentice. Looking for a challenge, to feed his precious ego with outrage of the weak. His addiction.

i want your gold

but you want my life

"Anything I need?" He chuckled humorlessly. His voice, accented and low, was neither quiet nor loud; his words meant only for Shadepaw. "I need what we all need, my dear boy." He hooked a claw into the mouse -- his mouse, now, noting for a moment how oddly bloodied it was. He'd run into another overzealous little hothead, it seemed, but fortunately this one had no army by his side to call on.

"Food's been dreadfully scarce, hasn't it, ThunderClanner?" He said slowly, toying cruelly with the poor apprentice. He reveled in this petty power, the knowledge that Shadepaw couldn't strike back. That Coal was so clearly punching down was not a concern to a cat of so little honor. "I suppose it's not a fair thing, to take what one hasn't earned -- but life's not fair, is it, little one?"

i want your gold

but you want my life

It seemed living a loner's life in these occupied lands meant bouncing between every corner of the world, if one was to avoid the consequences of his actions. Coal certainly was the type for that, and it seemed that all his hightailing had driven him off the edge of the earth. What was this place? Mountains and evergreens, such unfamiliar shapes to his sight, all so hard-edged and misty and cold. It seemed like a cruel place -- perhaps suited to someone as ice-hearted as himself.

Dense layers of shadows weighed heavily on his pelt as he stalked the undergrowth, ghostly gaze sweeping left and right for something to eat -- and more importantly, to steal. There was a special pleasure in taking what he shouldn't, of getting one over on these cats he knew nothing about. Just about everyone but him could go to hell, as far as he was concerned, and if stealing prey helped them on their way, that was all the better.

As he watched the forest floor, a vole poked its way aboveground -- a fatal mistake for the poor creature. It died easily, a satisfying nip to the back of the neck stealing the life from its limbs. It was frosty and tough, like the rest of this place, but it would do for his purposes. Catch clutched proudly between overgrown fangs and arrogance running unseasonably high, he decided to eat the thing right then and there. If his experience with the other clans was any indication, he had nothing more dangerous to expect than an angry child sent his way.

.Nettlepaw.

i want your gold

but you want my life

Snarl more, why don't you? He thought gleefully, casually standing his ground as Shadepaw advanced. He was right -- this one, like all clan apprentices, it seemed, was an arrogant little rat who needed to be taught his place (never mind that Coal had antagonized him). "Trust me, boy, anything you've heard is entirely true," he snarled back, a bitter satisfaction in his tone; he wanted to be renowned across this worthless forest. He wanted his name to command respect and fear, to make these pathetic clan cats toss and turn with nightmares of a black-and-white demon. He was a king, even if his miserable father had crushed Coal's crown to dust by way of dying; a final act of narcissism, hoarding greatness away from his own son. At least, that was how Coal saw it.

"Did you also hear what happened to that other spiky little dunghunter who tried to defend their Clan from Coal?" His eyes narrowed distastefully as he remembered Pepperpaw, wishing that he hadn't restrained himself quite so much. He'd given the apprentice a few hard blows, but in retrospect, the irritating thing had certainly deserved more. "Use your brain, if it's there. You might find that you're quite unequipped to oppose me." A haughty, blue gaze bore unblinkingly into Shadepaw's green, inviting the apprentice to make the next move.

i want your gold

but you want my life