Post by Pyro on Jul 21, 2011 21:18:28 GMT -10
Name | Cornet
Alias | Satchm, Satch, Cor, whatever pleases the person addressing him
Gender | Tom
Age | 40 moons
Rank | loner
Clan | n/a
Beliefs | There are many cats who find StarClan laughable, but none so much as Corent. He thinks they're below even kit tales; he certainly wouldn't want to yap hogwash like that to his children. The very idea of them is ludicrous. However, having been raised in a church he does have some semblance of religion...most of which involves taking names in vain.
Parents |
Luciano [ father x deaceased x np ]
Hester [ mother x alive x np ]
Siblings |
King [ brother x alive x np ]
Mate | n/a
Kits | n/a
Appearance | Satchmo is a large, intimidating tom. His dark grey fur is long and thick: a bane in the summer, but a saving grace in winter. His build is stocky and well-muscled from having to throw rowdy cats out of his old speakeasy under the church, but he's no bruiser. Satch's brown eyes are kind, and despite his previous business, which some would not hesitate to call unseemly, there is a noble bone to be found underneath all his fur.
Personality | Though he can seem intimidating because of his large size, Cornet is a very amiable individual. To call him friendly is an understatement, yet to call him trusting would be entirely false. Beneath the bluster and back-patting lies the heart of a cynic, and he scarcely meets someone before he decides not to trust them. This is most likely, hell, it is because he spent most of his life dealing with cats who were not always what they appeared and who nearly always had underlying motivations beyond 'hey partner, can I shack up here tonight?'. On the flip side, because his business was ~hospitality~ in a sense, he developed a cheerful front to combat his own inability to trust others. Because in his opinion, just because you don't trust someone, doesn't mean you can't have a nice conversation with 'em. Just don't give them the keys to your new car afterwards, eh?
Cornet likes to horde debts like the dickens. He views them as an assurance, his safety blanket if you will. If someone's in debt to you they'll probably be a whole lot nicer
That said, Cornet himself is trustworthy. Sure, he'll never let you forget something he's done for you, but you can count on him to get a job done or keep a secret at the end of the day. Snitching ain't good for business, after all. Not that he has a business anymore but...you know. Habits stick.
However, just because he can keep a secret doesn't mean he's not loudmouthed. Acquaintances (true friends being ahrd to come by) don't call him 'Satchmo' for nothing. He's got a big mouth and he's not afraid to use it. He'll jabber about anything especially twoleg music, which he is especially fond of. If cats could play...well, it'd make his day. Cornet can admire their ability to produce such varied and very often pleasing sounds, not to mention the buildings...the 20's speakeasies...well, suffice to say he doesn't have a lot to hate about them. Just the one twoleg that shut the Linchpin down. Pretty good for food in the winter, though clan cats would probably beat him upside the head for saying so.
Always up for a laugh, even when laughing might not be appropriate, Satchmo is continually in the mood for a good story or a funny joke. He finds it hard to stay serious for very long, because he doesn't want to take anything too seriously. That just weighs him down, and well, what's the good of that? The upside to that is he always has something bright to say, although...well perhaps not an upside. Saying something in a cheery voice doesn't always make it a good thing. He is fond of 'people-watching' and will not hesitate to point out someone's flaws, especially when they don't want him to. Why? Because if you don't want to hear about your flaws then you probably can't see them and need to get the hell back down to earth. In his ~humble~ opinion.
Skills | An excellent hunter and a capable fighter, Satchmo is well equipped for living on his own. His hearing leaves much to be desired though...of course he might have selective hearing as opposed to bad. And his climbing? Well. You'll never see him without all four paws planted firmly on the ground.
History | He might have been born in this century, but for Cornet it was always the roaring 20's. The town where he grew up was a spark of prosperity covering the ever-questionable underground dealings of the area, and if that was so for the twolegs it was even more so for the cats.
Cats didn't come to town for the good eats. They came for The Linchpin, the not-so-abandoned speakeasy underneath the abandoned church. The old couple who used to own the church had planned to fix it up as a house, but had lacked the money to do so and moved on...but not before they had shown their cats the speakeasy. As much as they respected history, they figured it'd make a better catroom than anything else, and for all intents and purposes the cats, Luciano and Hester, agreed. So much so that when the old couple moved on, they stayed with the caretaker of the church who refused to give up on the place.
Luciano was as big with the gangs as you could be: deeper than they were, but always with a plan. Sure he'd never run a gang, but he knew how they worked. And what a gang always needs is a place to stay. Somewhere to lay low. But laying low so often meant giving up the comforts of easy food and drink and a nice cozy den.
There was really nothing else for the dodger to do but put the speakeasy back to its old use under a new name: The Linchpin.
Within no time gangs were coming in and out, along with the spare thief or conman. Luciano got himself a crew to help gather food, water, cream, and herbs: all the essentials. Soon they weren't at a lack for anything, even blankets (though these were a bit ragged around the edges). The Linchpin became a hotspot for unsavory characters. Not a place to raise kits, but low and behold, a few months into the business Hester announced that that was just what they'd be doing.
Luciano raised his sons, King and Cornet, the former soon nicknamed 'Satchmo' for his mouth, right in the thick of things. Their aunts were cons and their uncles were bosses. Their friends could escape out of any mess, and in time the same grew true of King and Satch. They learned under the wings of the unlawful. While clan kits were hearing the legends of starclan, they were hearing stories from the roaring 20's, passed down to Luicano from his father, and his father before him, and so on and so forth.
So it was of course a shock when King went straight and ran off with a she-cat, leaving Satchmo to run the family business and brew the moderately famous Linchpin Catnip n'Cream. It wasn't long before he was too far deep in it to 'go straight' like King had.
Thing went smoothly for a few moons. A few regular patrons dropped off and stopped coming, presumably worried that if one sibling went straight that meant the other wouldn't be long after him...but not enough to really affect the steady stream of favors and supplies The Linchpin amassed through gang bosses and other such cats. If there was anything to be said for the underground, it was that they took care of their own. At least, they took care of the ones who didn't need a slit throat.
Unfortunately, while the caretaker of the church didn't mind two cats, he did mind two old cats, their kit, and some twenty plus others. Needless to say 'the man' was quick to shut the operation down.
Left without a home, but luckily with the reputation of the runner of the Linchpin, Satchmo left his parents and scrapped by on favors and his wits. Traveling just a few miles outside the town brought him to a comfortable place where he wouldn't have to 'scrap by': an aged ranch long abandoned by twolegs. It was packed with mice, and only a spare few loners dwelt there; usually cats just passing through.
It wasn't as swankin' as The Linchpin, but it was good enough to call home.
Critique level | criticize all aspects of my character
