Adderfang

[Pyro]

Name| Oliver Adderfang

Gender| Tom

Age|Thirty-Nine moons

Rank| Warrior

Clan| FogClan

Beliefs| StarClan? Who gives a rat's ass about them. Adderfang lives for himself. And only himself. It is questionable whether or not he truly doesn't believe in StarClan...After all, he seems to use them without question. They are his stand-by. His excuse. He picked up right away that believers were more well-liked than nonbelievers, especially in FogClan.

Saying you did something in StarClan's name? Some of them ate that stuff up. So, logically, how could he not lie about that? As far as anyone else is concerned, Adderfang is StarClan's...viciously...loyal servant.

Relatives| Adderfang's mother, Rosenrot [deceased], never told him about his father. As far as he knows, his father just came...and left. Two of his siblings, Till and Kruspe, joined a rogue gang around the time he left home, and he isn't sure whether they're alive or dead. His third brother, Christoph, found a kittypet home. [all NP]

Mate| Adderfang's mate, Sonne, died when a fox attacked the pair on their way to join one of the clans. The two had no kits to speak of.

Apprentice| -open-

Appearance| Adderfang is by no means the largest tom in FogClan. However, he's more than big enough to have no trouble whatsoever pushing his way through crowds. His body is lean and well-muscled. In another cat, this might help to radiate power and strength...but in Adderfang, it only adds to his unsettling aura. He is certainly one who has experience with rough times, one who knows what it is to work and is not afraid to do what he must to survive.

The tom walks with a careful and smooth gait and an air of being ready to whip around and rip your throat out at any moment. He hasn't shown any glimpses of how violent he can be, but the tense power held in each of his steps hasn't tempted anyone to try and find out.Of course, at the same time, when one looks at him, one cannot help but think he seems a bit weathered. Exhausted. Done.

His soft and thick pelt is a blue grey dusted with purple-ish brown. It shifts and moves as he walks, allowing the shadows beneath to give the appearance of ripples. Adderfang's puffy tail seems to have a life of its own. It moves and twitches like a snake, exposing the turmoil within him. However, no one dares confront him about what might being going on within the confines of his mind...his piercingly angry yellow eyes make sure of that.

Personality| Dark and brooding, Adderfang is not exactly the friendliest nor the most welcoming cat in the world. Whatever happiness he once had left with Sonne when she died. He blames himself for her death. If he'd been faster, struck harder...Perhaps she would have lived to reach FogClan with him. Perhaps he wouldn't have slipped so easily into his old ways.

Trustworthy? Adderfang will lie to someone just as easily as he'll tell them the cold, hard truth. He doesn't like to sugar-coat. His lies can be vicious and his truths...well, let's just say no one is ever going to let him break bad news to someone. But to say he is simply a mean cat is wrong. There's more to it than that. It's like he's taking out everything that's ever happened to him on everyone around him. Adderfang, however, will tell you that he's merely mimicking the real world. It's not a nice place. so why should he try to be any different?

Adderfang doesn't avoid interaction. It just doesn't come to him. Of course, of all cats to talk to, why would anyone talk to Adderfang? He doesn't exactly deliver a happy, cheerful impression. When he's in camp, the tom tends to stay on the edges where he may remain undisturbed. He's not often in camp though. He's usually out hunting or patrolling. When he's in camp, away in his shadows, it's like he doesn't know what else to do with himself. If there's no work to be done, he doesn't try to find it. Thankfully for his sanity, there just happens to always be work for him to busy himself with.

Depressed? Yes. But he doesn't mope. He shows his sadness through his anger. Through his anger at himself. Through his anger at others. His anger is one of the reasons he hunts so much. Hunting gives him a chance to dig his claws into something, to taste blood, to kill. He loves the thrill of giving into his rage, of letting his emotions flow through his mind and into the actions of his body. To not have to think, to let pure instinct and raw emotion take over...what could be better? When he let's the blood pump through his ears, a raging fire burn through his soul...He doesn't have to let his thoughts drift. He doesn't have to feel guilty. There's only him, his claws, and the uncontrolled desire to rip through flesh.

No one in FogClan has ever seen him snap, but there are cats out there who will never forget the days they crossed his path. He gives no warning. No growls. No tail twitches beyond what is normal for him. He just slams into them, claws drawn, face impassive as he delivers his wrath. You don't get in Adderfang's way. That is, unless you want to be moved. Painfully.

Adderfang doesn't deal with authority. As far as he's concerned, he's his own cat. He makes a small inclination of his head: I serve you at my own discretion. He was thankful toward Owlstar for letting him join FogClan, but he didn't kiss her paws. Overall, he thought her too soft, a bit too lax. And of course, what happens? She gets kicked out of her own clan, the very clan she created as easily as if she was a lone intruder foolish enough to trespass. As for Mistpelt...Well, Adderfang doesn't hate her...but he doesn't like her. Rather, he's a bit curious about the cat who uses Starclan to justify her actions near as much as he does. She fascinates him. Adderfang believes she might be a better leader than Owlstar...Well, as long as she doesn't try to mess with him.

Noble? Not...in the slightest. Or at least, he doesn't seem to be the noble-type at first glance. However, his heart does twitch when he sees cats being picked on. Sometimes it twitches enough for him to walk over and just...be there. Glaring. He doesn't even have to say anything. The message is usually clear enough: Back the -bleep- off. But he's certainly not friendly toward the cat that was getting picked on. Anyone who can't defend themselves isn't worth conversing with. They're pathetic. Weak.

Adderfang doesn't really...like...she-cats. Sure, he's curious about Miststar...but that's just about her mind. In general, he likes to avoid she-cats. No matter how different from Sonne they look, each and every one seems to have some feature, some trait, some quality that reminds him of Sonne. Which reminds him that he couldn't save her. Which reminds him that she's not here, with him, because of him. So, whenever he does have to interact with a she-cat he is very gruff and to the point. He doesn't want to talk with them or hunt or patrol with them any longer than he has to. He doesn't really have to worry about them sticking around longer than he'd like, though. Most cats find him...well, they just don't like talking with the abrasive tom. Not when there are other, more friendly options.

Spiders...just keep them away from Adderfang. Their unnatural speed, their ruthlessness...Deep down he knows they remind him of himself and that unsettles him. He hates that. He won't hesitate to squish one, even when in company.

Skills| Adderfang has a...talent...for hunting. And fighting. Anything that lets him use his stockpiled rage. He stalks his prey like a stealthy killer and kills it like a bloodthirsty beast. His opponents are hit as if by a freight train. A freight train with stinging claws and a vicious bite.

It is Adderfang's...'people' skills that give him the most trouble. being friendly is just against his nature. He simply can't do it. Not anymore, at least. Even keeping up a simple conversation is more effort than he'd care to make. He realized very quickly that if he wanted peace, he'd have to give up such frivolities as companionship. Of course, without Sonne, there can be no happiness. How can there be happiness without his Sun? There simply cannot. And so he confines himself to his world of darkness.

History|
"Why are you so angry all the time?"

Oliver looked to the sandy she-cat beside him. Ever since he had met her months ago when his mother, Rosenrot, had allowed him to journey past the nest, and he had met Sonne, he had been bombarded with questions like these. He usually ignored her and walked away...but...

"I'm angry at my father."

"How can you be angry at someone you've never met?"

"Because he never gave me the chance to meet him."

"Well...you don't need him. You have your mom, and and Till, and and Kruspe and Christoph...and...and you have me."

They were just kits. Oliver brushed it off at the time...but little did he know they would become inseparable. Sonne was with him through everything, the good and the bad...The latter was perfect. There was a lot of bad. By the time Oliver was six months old a gang of rogues moved into the town where he lived. finding food, which was already hard for loners like Rosenrot, became even harder, especially when the rogues started picking out the best places to find it and setting guards there to make sure only those from their gang could get the food there.

But of course, with so many cats, the food began to get even less plentiful. As they bred and added even more to the populace there was barely enough to go around. Soon, there was nothing. But there was security in staying in one place...so the rogues turned to another way to get food: cannibalism. The obvious targets were the loners, the original residents. Rosenrot was among the first to go. Christoph would have been too, but a passing two-leg saw him being set upon by some rogue and saved him, shooing the bloodthirsty cats away and taking Christoph with him.

Till and Kruspe decided the best way to survive would be to join the rogues, and so they did, leaving Oliver and Sonne with only each other. The two had to leave. It was the only way to survive without joining the enemy. Bu others had the same idea, and in anticipation of escapes the rogues posted lookouts on the outskirts of the city. Escapees were quickly caught and killed.

We'll never get out of here. If those bigger cats can't make it past them how will we?" Sonne whispered.

"I have an idea...but you might not like it." Sonne listened grimly as Oliver told her how they could wait until another escapee came along, follow them, and then make a run for it while the lookouts were distracted by him. They didn't have to wait long. Many cats who hadn't heard about the lookouts thought they'd get out while the getting was good. Oliver and Sonne were able to sneak away quietly as one such cat was attacked and eaten without mercy.

When they were far away from the horrible town they met another pair of cats who had escape in much the same way: Paul and Flake. The toms took pity on the young Oliver and Sonne and allowed the duo to travel with them until even when they were beyond old enough t journey alone. A sort of bond had formed between them. They had all survived a terrible thing...and you couldn't just separate after that.

Of course, death didn't care for bonds. A leafbare came quite like any other the four had ever experienced. Its harsh winds flattened them to the ground on some days and the snows were long and colder than they had thought possible. Too cold for the aged Flake and Paul. The two toms, weathered from their many seasons alive, weren't up for the vicious leafbare. Once again, Oliver and Sonne were on their own and this pulled them even closer together.

Toward the end of leafbare they found themselves is the company of an old she-cat named.. The greying Kochanski told them of four groups of cats unlike any other. They believed in the existence of their ancestors in the sky above and an afterlife, like she did. Sonne hearkened to the idea of being watched over. It gave her hope that though things seemed bad, good would come of it. Oliver was unconvinced. Where were his ancestors when his mother was killed? When Chistoph was taken? When Paul and flake died? And as for 'the clans'...he wasn't too comfortable with the idea of joining a large group of cats. For all he knew, they could fall on the ways of the rogues of his birthplace when prey was scarce. Sonne, however, liked the stability the clans could offer and wished to find them. Not wanting to leave his mate, Oliver agreed to come with her. Kochanski pointed them in the direction of where she had gone to give a clan her grandkit.

But when they reached the border it wasn't a patrol they found, but a fox. They ran for their lives, but the fox was faster. Before it could pounce on them, however, the two cats whirled around and attacked, hoping to drive it off with a surprise. The fox only hesitated for a second. Then it too was on the attack. Oliver and Sonne fled to no avail. It latched onto Sonne with powerful jaws, yanking her away from Oliver's side. Oliver leaped onto the fox, clawing and biting frantically, but it would not let go. The commotion brought a patrol, which caused the fox to flee, but too late. Sonne was dying.

"Oliver...oh Oliver."

"Sonne, don't go, please don't go...you can't...not after all we've been through. We're so close, we're so close to the end, just hold on."

"No...I'm at my end. You're not at yours. You have to go on without me. Find the clans...Finish the journey for me."

"I won't finish it for you, damn it. you're going to live. You just have to hold on."

"I can't...remember me please...look to the sky and remember...."

The patrol told Oliver that he and she had made it to one of the clans: FogClan. They tried to comfort him by saying his mate would always be with him through StarClan...Oliver joined FogClan. But he was not comforted. His mate was dead, gone, taken from him...

And nothing would bring her back.