Post by Vesser de Czagy on Jul 1, 2012 23:46:26 GMT -5
{: VESSER DE CZAGY :}
Past names: Vesser
Future names: ---
Age: 76 moons
Parents: Liddy, mother; Damson, father
Kin: ---
Mate: ---
Kits: None... that he knows of.
Clan: Loner
Rank: Loner
Abilities: Hunting, climbing, running, fighting, excellent sense of direction
Disabilities: Keeping his mouth shut, vain
Main Attack Move: Belly rake
Basic Description: A tall white tom with one yellow and and one blue eye.
Description: Vesser's build is rather large all around, but not very weighty in and of itself. Because of this, he gives the impression of being taller than he is heavy, and he has a muscular, wiry look. He has a well-proportioned body, covered by thick white fur, which is of medium-short length. His ears are constantly twitching, swerving back and forth to chronicle every sound that he hears. The tom's muzzle is fairly short and stocky, giving him a stoic, but not unkind, appearance, and a smile often graces it. His eyes are the most notable thing about him, the left being a gold-brown, and the other an icy blue. His face is neither thin or rounded, being more of a rectangular shape. He has a strong chest and neck, which is kept lifted with a sort of flirtatious self-importance. His torso is slightly short, making his legs look even longer than they are. His paws are a bit small, giving a clue to how nimble and quick he can be. His tail is usually kept tucked about him when he sits, but when standing is stretched out horizontally behind him. He has long, curved claws, but they are rarely extended. His form serves as a jack-of-all trades; he can run and jump and climb and fight and myriad other things, often good, but never the best. He has several scars from past skirmishes, though none very serious. He's a shade larger than many cats, giving him the advantage of size in a scuffle, and it seems to suit his personality well, with how he can make himself out to be a larger-than-life character. Some might describe him as handsome, others ordinary-looking.
Personality: Above all, he is a very street-smart cat. Unfortunately, he doesn't live on the streets anymore. At first acquaintance, he can seem shallow, stuck up, and completely unknowledgeable. He is not quite as he seems. Yes, he is vain, but largely in jest, and he wouldn't deny being shallow at times. He'll flirt with any and every she-cat who passes him by, more of a habit than something he does with an end goal in mind, and all cats, regardless of gender or status of any kind, will be made fun of by him in good humor. He finds it a pity when anyone takes life too seriously. He loves sparring and will fight with anyone who seems like they want it, though it's not common that he'll start a battle without a reason, unless in play. He lies like a rug, even if he means no harm by it, and chances are if you ask him a question twice you won't get the same answer. This applies, in particular, to his past- he claims to have come from somewhere very far away, but will never say exactly where. There may be truth in that, but he also claims that he fought off a pack of rats all by himself, so anything he says should be taken with a grain of salt. He jokes about constantly, and is talkative and brainless-seeming enough that it's easy to trust him. His manner of speaking is an unusual drawl, laid-back and charming.
His attitude and habits bring to mind a younger tom who's seen nothing of the world yet, but that's hardly accurate. His age and experience has given him a surprising amount of wisdom and knowledge, which he keeps firmly under wraps lest his unfavorable reputation turn to something actually creditable. He would consider this a massive tragedy, as he takes much pride in his vices. Despite his seeming carelessness, he gets attached very quickly, and would not hesitate to comfort anyone who needed it. He will give excellent advice if you ask in earnest, and he can be deadly serious when he has to. Once you come to know him well, he seems more like an old cat who's learned long ago, through his own fair share of hardships, that there's no point in being solemn all the time, rather than an old cat trying to be young again (but if you call him old at all, be prepared for a good swipe across the ears). He is surprisingly wary of letting anyone become close enough to see that, and there is, at times, a peculiar sadness in his eyes.
He regards the Clans as somewhat foolish for staying in the same place their entire lives, and knows well enough not to encroach upon their territory. All the same, he admires how they support each other within their own Clan. He's also been tempted more than once to spy on a Gathering or even just a camp, as he is massively curious and wishes to know more than what he does about their lifestyles, and he wouldn't be averse to getting to know some Clan cats to see what they were like- preferably some pretty she-cats, he would say.
History: Vesser keeps much of his past to himself, for whatever reason. He was born as a kittypet, but he did not stay one long enough to remember much other than his parents' names, not even what they looked like, or if he had any siblings. Only a few moons old, he wandered outside and became lost, but he was too young to be frightened. It was several days later before he began to truly feel anxious about his situation. He had come into a forest he didn't know, and it was two more days before he was out of it. The kit was confronted by a massive city, filled with more smoke and noise than he could process. When he was found by a small group of city cats, covered in mud and mewling with terror, they took him in, and he stayed with them. He couldn't remember what his parents had named him, so he went by Vesser, the name given him by the city cats who raised him. The 'de Czagy' was added much later in his travels, mostly because he fancied it, and it made him sound important. He learned to fight and scavenge and beg from twolegs until an indeterminable number of moons later he assumed, with the help of his ego, that he was smart enough to get out of the place and survive on his own. He'd not given a second thought or backwards glance to his parents and previous home, and hardly thought of them at all, being a strong-headed young adult and filled with wanderlust. He left the city for the countryside, walking along the side of a huge Thunderpath that Twoleg machines raced along day and night. He taught himself to hunt in the fields on his way, here and there being shown tips and tricks by other loners or outdoor kittypets. Even with assistance, he spent many hungry nights and was even forced to live off of crowfood once or twice- there was a plentiful amount along the Thunderpath. He had no clear idea as to where he was going, or where he wanted to go, but the twoleg trail seemed as good as anything to follow. Even he wouldn't be able to say how long he walked for. He saw things sad, miraculous, strange, and everything in between; he passed through too many Twolegplaces to count, ranging from tiny, with only a few dwellings, to massive ones even larger than his homeplace. And all the while, he followed the same trail built by Twolegs.
One summer day, he came to the end of his Thunderpath. In front of him spread a massive river, or lake, or somesuch; it was too big to tell the shape or if it had a current without actually swimming in it, and Vesser was intelligent enough not to take the risk. He traveled perpendicular to his old course along the shore and eventually came to a place where a Twoleg floater would arrive every so often, and leave again, taking its Twolegs with it. Some didn't return, so they must have gone to stay somewhere. It was with this idea in his mind he slipped aboard the ferry. The trip lasted a little less than a day, and he gladly ignored his rumbling stomach when bright yellow lights appeared over the night-dark water. The Twolegplace he landed at was about the same size as his homeplace, and it did not take him long to explore it before he was on his way again. He followed no Thunderpath this time, instead forging his own route. After a few moons, he came to another small Twolegplace, which he stayed in for a bit as a rest. He took to accepting food from one pair of Twolegs in specific, but was nonetheless indignant, shocked, and above all frightened when they took him into their den and barred any escape. He was forced to live there for two or three moons, and by and by he got used to it. The second upheaval came when they put him into some small box, shoved the box into their disgusting growling machine, and set off to wherever with him and took their blasted time about it. Three days passed before the trip was over, but even then he wasn't let out of his box for more than an hour at once. Then his box was handled by a variety of unfamiliar Twolegs and put on another growling machine, far larger than his own Twolegs'. He recognized it, vaguely, as the type that went up in the air- that flew. The realization he was going to be actually, legitimately flying thrilled Vesser enough that any fear was taken straight out of his mind. When they landed, and he was finally let out of his box for good, he was in the countryside again. It was completely different from anything he had previously encountered. The plants, smells, and sights were all wildly dissimilar, and he'd never seen or even heard of some of the animals before. They were fairly far away from any Twolegplace, but where he lived now nearly counted as one by itself. There were two buildings, one large and spacious, and the other where his Twolegs resided. He was allowed outside permanently, and made his own nest in the larger of the two dens. Curious to know about this new place, he ventured ever further, and learned of the Clans from kittypets and rogues, and he once again became more of a loner, shying away from his Twolegs when they came to bother him. He accepted food, but nothing else. He spent his adulthood seeking out knowledge of his new home and came to be just as experienced with it as he had his old roaming-places, though he generally stayed within three or four days' trip of his Twoleg's dens. His wisdom came through such experience, but also age, as he is now beginning to leave his youth behind, though by no means is he truly old or weak.
Vesser's past has an innumerable number of incidents that were in some way notable, and he has known uncountable fascinating cats, if only for a brief time, and his full history is known only to himself.
Other accounts: Rookfall
