Post by saylo on Feb 6, 2008 17:53:10 GMT -5
Other Accounts: none
Chaos Emeralds: none
Name: Saylo
Nickname: Fierceclaw
Age: 19
Gender: male
Species: Some sort of cat.
Special Power: He has a natural chaos energy that's ever with him. It's not that powerful on it's own, but if he has a chaos emerald, he can do alot more with it than most.
Ability: Saylo has undergone extreme training since very early childhood. So needless to say, he's got some pretty darn good martial arts skills. In addition, he's developed specific chaos attacks.
Chaos Sight- It increases his eyesight and hearing by about eight times, which, is considerably good since he has excellent sinces as it is, and with two emeralds, he can see faintly in heat vishion.
Chaos Ghost- This inables him to be temporarily invisible. Though he can't keep this up for long, and it usually works better at night.
Chaos Fear- It sounds alot like "chaos Spear" so this can be sort of confusing. Chaos Fear doesn't work unless Saylo has you somewhat intimidated, which usually isn't a problem for him. But this attack causes his victoms to go into panic, making them see things and messes with their mental stability. And as you know, once somebody goes into panic the battle doesn't last much longer.
Chaos Flash- Last but not least, this is the only special ATTACK that he has. It's not that complicated. It's just a blue beam or ball of energy that he summons from his palms. Big woop. But it doesn't take up as much of HIS energy as the other attacks do. He can't do them all in one battle. However, he can use Chaos Flash all day long if he has a chaos emerald.
Appearance: Saylo is a small cat in build, that's usually what gets his enemies into so much trouble. False confidence and a lack of depth perseption is a deadly combination when facing this "prince of Haliska". His pelt is an unusual ebony black, and even though his fur-length couldn't be considered at all long or shaggy, it is very thick. A result from the cold climate he was born in. Saylo's claws and fangs aren't unnaturally long, or anything really unorthadox or eyecatching, though they are very clean and white. Nothing about him that's physically extrordinary that he hasn't worked for. It isn't the weapons you weild, it's how you use them that makes the difference. The one brilliant thing about him on sight is his facial features and his eyes. He's far from ugly, and very surprisingly, he doesn't have any visable scars.
Anyway, his eyes! His eyes are what others usually remember him by. They are an unusual shade of light blue, like the artic sky in winter, or the shallows at a tropical island. And there is a patch of green at the bottom of his right eye that is clearly visable against the blue.
personality: Saylo's personality reflects his heart-haunting nick-name. He comes from a kingdom who lives by all-too-famous law of "kill or be killed, hunt or starve" and since he proved his worth as prince of a large, murderous kingdom, his ego built up. Sometimes it blinds him, and he considers himself unbeatable, which he doesn't mind letting you know, and sometimes THAT attitude gets him into alot of trouble. But no matter how deep the crap fate lands him in, this black feline always comes out laughing. But at the same time,
Saylo is cunning and ruthless in battle. he's clever in the things he sets his mind to. His thoughts and motives are extremely hard to predict, since Saylo, all together, is an unpredictable cat. And of coarse, he has always been sharp tongued and quick witted...choose what you believe carefully.
And just like anyone who acts like this, on the other side of those high walls he's build, and at the bottom of the pit that he's dug himself, Saylo is suffering. Emotion was for the weak, and the weak were destroyed and taken advantage of right? This was what he was always taught, what he'd always learned. There was never anyone to show him otherwise. The weak were playtoys of the heartless power around them...and Saylo's worst fear is to be in that position again.
History: Fierceclaw. A name that had sent shivers down the spine of the most well trained warriors, gaurds, commoners, loners. A name that, at one time, had been feared on grounds far beyond his land. A name that stood for death and distruction, pain and loss. One that stole hope and courage, and severed bravory and faith. Once apon a time, Saylo WAS horror...
Born to kill and raised to hate, and bred to conqure and bring the demise of all those who did not submit to Haliska, a large kingdom known for it's bloodlust and ruthlessness. It was a place of story and rumor, the mobians who haunted the dreams of all children who heard their tales. A place of blood and murder. It was thought to be the closest thing to Hell you could get in this side of the country, if not the world.
Love between married couples was a hard thing to come by, especially in royalty, and Saylo's bloodlines had been pruned to perfection. The perfect ruler....or so they say. From the age of 5 years, Fierceclaw and his litter were under a heavy curse of expectations and fear that they didn't understand. Thrown into fierce trainging, there was no protection from their father or the royalty, no overseer to make sure things were fair. The kits were at their "adoring" kindgom's mercy. And even the common cats were allowed to take their tear at the kits while they were still too young to understand, to weak to take revenge....
Grueling training on extreme, even insaine levels. The pads on their paws were slit and torn over and over, reopened again and again until they were automatically trained to be agile on their feet. They were held under water, until they learned how to cleverly coordinate their fighting methods while conserving oxygen. Very sparingly were they tought how to defend themselves. It was all trial and error for this "lucky" litter. They were trained to hunt, however, though punished if they failed to catch a certain amount of pray over the extremely large territory withen a certain amount of days. And punishment in Haliska. . . isn't time out. . .
One by one, Saylo watched as his brothers and sisters dropped like flies. One of his sisters died of infection from her many wounds, despite the advanced medicine that the Haliskan med team had treated her with. His brother, too haughty to back down, was killed by a gaurd. An accident yes, the other Haliskans were forbidden to kill. AFter all, it was their king's kits, and the torment they put them through was at their own risk anyway because once the surviving kit could easily take revenge. . . and oh did he ever. . .
After years of more trouble than most mobians endured in a lifetime, Saylo learned. . . he learned what his father had been trying to teach him all along. That if he did not kill, he would be killed. If he did not hunt, he'd starve. If he did not take authority, he would be taken authority over. The stronge survived, the weak were either placed under that authority, or died, including elders. Saylo learned that mercy only existed in the hearts of innosent children, and in the mind of a fool. He learned the HARD way that compassion and love would only result in pain in the end. And after seeing his mother killed by the one person in a higher position than she was, and every one of the kits he'd known from birth trained to death, and the one she-cat who'd been. . . different from the rest.
This was the world Saylo knew.
Fierceclaw's heart was hardened. And he was ultimatly turned into the murderer he was intended to be. Those Haliskans who put him through such anguish, he remembered them all... He remembered the faces of his tormenters. Their sneering smiles and jokes and insults, their claws ranking down his soft ebony pelt. He remembered. . . but unfourtionatly, those mobians were not remembered. Fierceclaw made sure of that. He ultimatly overthrew his father, the old tabby meeting with the same fate, and took his control over his clan. The ambition that had driven him from the beginning. The lust for revenge, and the knawing desire to be in power, to be feared, had finally come true in his reality. Fierceclaw ruled, and he ruled with the ruthlessness of a fight dog.
However, one faithful battle with a neighboring kindgom, a soft, peaceful clan. Even calling themselves after the native word for Hope: Faviere`, the young king met his match. Their belief in. . . God. Some....supernatural power that came from above. The light, the love, the peace. Coming against all the darkness, the hatred, and the brutality of Haliska. Faviere` was smart, however, and gathered together all the other neighboring kingdoms and territories for the battle for their own land.
It was certainly a battle to remember, in the lush grasslands of Faviere`. Hundreds of mobians lined up against eachother, otherworldly fire showing in their eyes. A battle that litterally lasted for days, the grass forever called the "Meadow of Tears" due to all the losses. All the blood, and definetly, all the hatred..
Fierceclaw saw who was winning and loosing, and no matter how many more Haliskans he forced into battle, no matter how trained and professional the army, something. . . was keeping him from what he wanted most: Victory. He wanted to see them burn. And in battle himself, the prince punished them, fighting with all the vengance and the hatred that most wouldn't think a person could hold without loosing control of himself. In a way, Fierceclaw had. But the demonic wit remained.
However, that "demonic wit" cost him 2/3 of his army, and Faviere` was still pouring in warriors. And so Fierceclaw did what any noble leader in Haliska would do -- He fled.
Ever since that night, Fierceclaw has lived the cursed life of a loner. His short rule and command over so many mobians living on only in his dreams and fanticies. The things that his twisted mind had been trained to believe were the GOOD things in life were taken away from him. Stolen. Many other loners knew who he was, even though he had traveled so far from his birthground, and he rarely had any scuffles unless it was caused by pure desire for the old days. Though Fierceclaw remained content.
As the days grew to weeks, and weeks to moons, Fierceclaw's blood lust and ambition began to slowly eb away. The very things that had kept him alive. . . fading. Until the once glorious prince was no more. There was nothing left. Just a scrap of living breathing fur and muscle, and just those intemidating blue eyes. Fierceclaw lost interest in all that had once intreeged him. In his hunts, in the fights and battles that had given him the glory and the frightful respect that he so craved. Everything began to loose it's luster. And Saylo was left with a heart full of sorrow and remorse, a head full of stress, and a hand full of anger held in his chest ((XD straight jack off of a song, becha can't guess) That was true. Anger, sorrow, stress. Everything that Fierceclaw had known was taken away. There was no one, not even enemies. Just...vast emptiness of loner lands....until one day...
Role-Play Example: ((This is just a random post off another site since i'm too lazy to make another one ^^. Basically what's going in is that Shadow and a group of custom charries took a boat trip to find a bad guy's island but got cut off by a boat of people trying to kill a girl on the "good guy" boat (Saylo being on that bad guy boat just to hitch a ride). Shadow killed one of them and now the good guy group is fighting about how inhumane it was and what to do now that they're on the enemy isle.'s beach)
"My name is Master and Lord to you candy***. And since your companions have apparently abandoned you here with me, consider yourself fourtionate that killing you isn't my mission." Saylo was refering to how the cyborg had been firing all sorts of bullets and missels a few moments earlier when Saylo's "captain" had punched Haden's lights out. Bullets of which had narrowly missed the short black cat, who any other time would strike back with vengence.
However he didn't and he disapeared off the boat without any flash of chaos energy or sound and reapeared on the beach, a little way away from the other three and closer to the dark forest line, "Well it looks I've joined up with a basket full of idiots who can't even agree on their own motives." He growled in aggrivation judgmentally as he stalked up to them, "So from here on, you b****es will be greatful that you have me here to hold your hand, because quite obviously, you wouldn't be able to HANDLE sneaking along enemy lines if you're too buisy blowing each other up and causing unwanted attention." Saylo scowled, tail lashing in annoyance and immediantly acting like he owned the place and he was so much better than everyone else. Which where, of coarse, his thoughts exactly.
"And so this is how it falls together. A prince reduced to a babysitter on the winning strech. If this doesn't start out good I'm blasting them all to heck and doing this on my own." He thought grudgingly.
Other: none really. I plan to change him one day, get him a girl and what not. But lol, i don't think I'll actually happen any time soon.
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