Post by Frankie on Dec 23, 2010 11:40:46 GMT -5
Patchedpelt
Mottled cream and gray tabby she-cat with bog-green eyes
* * *
Age: Thirty-four moons
Gender: She-cat
Rank: Medicine Cat
Clan: Gustclan* * *
Appearance: Patchedpelt is a beautiful cat, if you can look past the drooling and the crazy, sometimes bloodshot eyes. She is long-legged and lithe, thin and light-footed. Her fur is a tapestry of color and design; creamy orange melds with gray-brown and white over a tabby pattern. Her fur is short and soft, her ears are gently pointed, and her paws small and dainty. Paired with almond-shaped eyes and a feminine, pointed face, Patchedpelt is a sight to behold on her good days, even with the stiff, crooked, almost useless back paw on her left side.
However, on her bad days she is close to a nightmare. She drools and teeters about, unbalanced, sometimes overtaken by tremors or slurred speech. Sometimes, when she sneezes hard or does something else sudden like that, she gets an eye hemorrhage, which gives her an almost demonic look. Luckily, they go away after a day or so.
On these bad days she won't clean herself, leading to ratty fur that - if her "bad day" continues for many days - begins to smell like rotting plants. Gunk accumulates under her eyes and snot runs down her nose and drips from her chin as dirt cakes between her paw pads until it pains her to walk.
Good days are okay, but bad days are really bad.
Personality: Patchedpelt isn't a bad cat, really, she's just... unfortunate. She was once a bright, charming young she-cat full of possibility. Now, after her accident, she is almost completely mentally retarded, or completely insane. She has become more aggressive, especially when someone brings up the possibility of a mental problem, and has no patience anymore. The slightest thing might set her off into a spitting rage.
Patchedpelt goes through mood swings the way a squirrel goes through nuts. One moment she may be purring and happy, the next a raging harpy. In between these swings she has dead, flat moments where she's almost emotionless and has the empathy of a rock. It's when her mood is flat that you have to be most careful.
As a side-effect of her accident, Patchedpelt sometimes cannot remember things she once was able to recall off the top of her head. And on top of this she sometimes finds herself in conflict about what to do (especially with sick cats) when normally she would have no problem. This inability occasionally - usually when she grows increasingly frustrated - morph to also include a block on the part of her brain that governs speech and understanding. The words of another cat may as well be the chirping of a bird for how well she understands.
With Patchedpelt, you can never be sure how she'll respond. She may run and hide when she starts having problems with her mind, and keep to herself with a trembling fear of anyone finding her. Or she may attempt to go through the day normally, and fight it off quite well. She's a plethora of moods, problems, and thoughts, and it is hard to sort them out. Only one thing is obvious: this cat has a serious problem, and one day it could get her killed.
History: Patchedpelt was once a promising young she-cat. She was born to two well-loved and respected warriors as Patchedkit. She quickly grew, and it was obvious immediately how intelligent she was. The little kit took to following around the Medicine Cat of her clan, or she would snuggle up with the elders and listen to their stories. She was compassionate and caring and kind.
And so it came as no surprise when, at six moons, she was into the Medicine Cat's apprentice. Patchedpelt learned quickly, like the common metaphorical sponge. She practically inhaled her lessons, and was very adept at combining herbs and other methods to heal ailments and injuries. Her mentor, an old she-cat named Nettlebone, doted on her new protege and taught her everything she knew, until the little she-cat surpassed her in knowledge. It was quite amazing.
So when Nettlebone retired to join the elders and Patchedpelt became Medicine Cat, no one was surprised and everyone was pleased. She was pretty, smart, and had the world going for her.
But I think we've all learned by now that wonderful things do not last. One day, only a month and a half before present day, as Patchedpelt was out collecting herbs near GustClan's border with the Sacred Lands, she came across a snake.
Boa Constrictors are not native to the Clans' area. Patchedpelt was used to grass snakes and vipers and the like, which strike at you or slither away. But this creature had been released by foolish owners who thought it would be a good, humane thing to do with a pet they no longer wanted. Their stupidity ruined Patchedpelt's life.
Thinking it was merely a grass snake that had been born with a defect to make it larger, Patchedpelt cautiously approached, ready to dart away. But when the snake slowly crept forward, as if oblivious to her, she shrugged and began to walk away, mind already on the herbs she needed to find.
The snake struck, latching on to Patchedpelt's rear left leg and quickly wrapping its thick body around hers. Perhaps luckily for her, it was a captive-born snake who didn't know how to truly hunt, and so it didn't squeeze her tightly enough to kill her.
But the compression of the thickly muscled body squeezed her airways shut and cut off the oxygen supply to her brain. By the time a patrol came by and killed the snake, saving her, it was already too late. Lapsing into unconsciousness, foam running down her neck, the last thing she saw was a brilliant flash of light.
The warriors who found her carried her back to the clan, and with the care of concerned clanmates Patchedpelt came-to. Disoriented and seized by terror, she hid alone in her den, shaking.
Patchedpelt eventually overcame her terror and resumed her Medicine Cat duties, though now with most of her mind gone many are wondering if she's still fit to be Medicine Cat...* * *
Roleplay Sample: This is from my site, it's a shifter RP and this old guy (my favorite charrie) is in his human form now, hope that's okay ^^;
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[atrb=width,493,true][atrb=background,http://i130.photobucket.com/albums/p277/Crushedfeather/TOBR/Postingtablebackground.png]
The ragged old man coughed out a bark of laughter as the man approached. He was too old for foolish boys' games of 'I'm so much stronger than you.' What did he look like, like he was just gonna roll over and whimper at the man's feet like some silly Lupine? Pah!
Gwilihar adjusted his tunic, rather pointedly ignoring the man who was now quite close to him and seemed to be doing a titty dance sort of thing, only with his arms. Children, the old Felyne grunted and rolled his eyes. After a moment of the man standing only a foot or so away in silence (he was most definitely a Marieus, if Gwilihar knew anything; they certainly had no sense of personal space and decency. Also, the man was wet, which usually meant sea people), Gwilihar looked up at him with one eyebrow lowered and one raised in an incredulous, almost quizzical look.
"What, Felyne gotchyer tongue?" Wheezy laughter escaped his lips, thinking the joke quite funny. "Don' tell me yer deaf or mute or somethin'," he uttered grumpily into the silence in a voice that would fit well in our world's Mississippi or Missouri, "An' stop that ridiculous titterin' with those arms o' yers, I ain't blind and ye look like a damn fool."
Whether Gwilihar was truly oblivious to the fact he might offend a much larger, younger, and stronger man, or he just didn't care is unclear. He didn't even really know himself. Perhaps if the man attacked him he'd finally be able to join Sydney and Isabella... Perhaps that's what made him reckless.
"What're ye doin' on land now, anyway? If ye are a Mareius. Or maybe yer one o' them pony folk," he added with a snort.[atrb=width,493,true][atrb=height,207][atrb=background,http://i130.photobucket.com/albums/p277/Crushedfeather/TOBR/PostingtableOOC.png] 
How did you find this site?: You advertised on my site, Trail of the Black Rabbit <3
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