tGB | Skylr | Current reference

ponytail

Name Skylr [sky-ler]

Kit Name Echo

Gender Male

Age Three Season Cycles

Tribe Water-Tribe

Rank Gem Collector and Crafter

Tattoo Green-Water

Appearance

 | [ Breed / Build / Fur / Face / Special Features / Disabilities and Scars / Accessories / Scent ]

Breed Balinese mix

Build Skylr is on the thin side, with very long legs and large paws. 

Height Tall

Weight Light

Fur A short, wiry, tan coat with blue and red markings

Face Long and narrow

Special Features Tufted ears

Disabilities and Scars Deep scars cutting into his neck, nicks in his ears, a scratch on his forehead and left hind leg.</b>

Accessories Two ear clips.</b>

Scent cAT

Personality |

Outwardly - [ +Intelligent ] [ +Courteous ] [ -Clumsy ] [ -Perfectionist ] [ -Distant ] 

Inwardly - [ +Caring/Allocentric ]

Past Traits - [ Hypochondriac/Melodramatic ] [ Paranoid ] [ Weak/Sensitive ] [ Hyperactive ]

+Intelligent

Having a high degree of intelligence; mentally acute.
Skylr is extensively sharp, bright. He's is constantly running through predictions and logical ways to solve problems. Luck does not register. He's often inquisitive. He can blabber on and on about his subjects of interest, totally oblivious to other's reactions and continuing to talk even as they try to drown him out.

+Courteous</span>

Polite, respectful, or considerate in manner.

Other cats may describe Skylr as polite or chivalrous. He prides himself on his respectful behavior, whether it be dipping his head in a tribe official's presence or helping another cat in their tribe duties. He deals with conflicts civilly and without bias.

+Caring/Allocentric [inwardly]

Displaying kindness and concern for others.

Having one's interest and attention centered on other persons.
Despite all of his odd traits, he really cares about the cats he befriends, which is not often. He'll try to help them out in any way he can, even if he does screw up the majority of the time. He'll try to get them to say what's on their mind, and give the best advice he can.
He hates to see cats upset, and he feels that seeing them unhappy can make him so, too. 

To a point, he can invest so much in helping another cat, he neglects himself.

-Clumsy

Awkward in movement or in handling things.</span>
Since day one, Skylr as been tripping over his own paws. His body will move jerkily and his long tail usually gets caught between his legs. He's easy to take by surprise. The tom is constantly bruising himself, scraping himself, and tearing up his ears.

-Perfectionist

A person who refuses to accept any standard short of perfection.</span>

Skylr gets on his own nerves. He doesn't want to compulsively think the same things that bother him or clean up after himself and others. One thought that constantly runs through his head--I'll have to act better, grow stronger, be the best I can be for my tribe or else I will be exiled, just like many cats were before the start of the war. To have his tattoo glow a dull gray once again...he doesn't want to even think about it.

-Distant

Not intimate; cool or reserved.</span>

Ever since he received his scars, Skylr has been withdrawn. He's tentative to put his trust in another. He is still caring towards those close to him; he's still courteous. Although he's not sure he can ever let a new cat in. He's not quick to enter conversations, usually holding back and listening. 

-Hypochondriac/Melodramatic

A person who is abnormally anxious about their health.

Acting in an exaggerated manner.
Every thorn in his paw pad is fatal. A sneeze means a severe illness. Skylar tries to take good care of himself, and he's become a little...obsessive of cleaning not only himself but others and the area around him. But with his clumsiness he gets hurt often. He can get panicked easily, and he'll greatly over react to any sort of pain. Even the idea or mention of a dangerous situation will send his heart racing and fluttering.

Today, Skylr has experienced enough to know what is a threat and what isn't. He has a thicker skin; you may even call him brave.

-Paranoid

Of, characterized by, or suffering from the mental condition of paranoia.</span>
What if another tribe launches an attack today? What if the deputy falls under illness? Even worse, what if he encounters D'ialia? What if, what if, what if? The possibilities are endless. This personality quirk mainly comes from his old lifestyle as an exile--anything could happen out in the long grass. It was quite unpredictable. What would you see when you come over the peek of that hill? Would you be washed away by the storm? Would you survive the night without shelter?

-Weak/Sensitive

Having or displaying a quick and delicate appreciation of emotions.</span>
While Skylr was noticeably more confident and brave before he joined the tribes, his defenses have gone down since he's joined them. He's not just physically weak but mentally--he'll take any comment to heart. It can clearly effect him and you can see when he's hurt.

He's passed this stage by now--matured and adapted to his new life in the tribes. It's rare for him to be so deeply affected. His experience in the caiman attacks have definitely further toughened his spirit. 

=Hyperactive

Abnormally or extremely active.</span>
He absolutely cannot stop moving. He jitters all over the place and fidgets when he stands still. When there's a period of silence he has to fill it up with talk or repetitive questions. The human equivalent is probably a form of obsessive compulsive disorder.

History |
       

It was odd, learning that your world was wrong. Odd how suddenly your life can change, bending to someone's needs as if only a kit's plaything.
Skylr was born into a humble litter of two, he was the healthy baby boy while his sister...had passed on to a different world without even stopping to glance at the wonders of this one. It would have been nice to have a sister, someone to talk to, someone to rely on. But you can’t let thoughts like that tie you down.
The sandy tom became known as “Echo.” Young Echo had began to live the life of an exiled cat. He lived with a nomadic group of four joined families--he loved all of them like his own kin. They were the only things he could call home as they traveled through unknown land.
He had not viewed life further than when he had seen in the north. His life took a turn when his mother began to tell him stories of her life back in the Fire Tribe. It took a while for him to believe what his mother was telling him--when all you’ve known is rolling hills, it’s hard to believe that there was something beyond that. Four tribes of ferocious cats--and not only that--these cats had a prophecy. They had a story. They didn’t wander on and on for who-knows-what, they had purpose.
From that day on he yearned for that life, to belong to "Water Tribe", for his tattoo to change color, to have purpose. Stunned, he slowly began to realize that some cats had a hate for the tribes--hated them for trying to force them and the ones they loved into battle, despised them in result of their banishment. He chose not to acknowledge them...they didn't know anything; he needed to live his life in the Water Tribe, where he belonged.
He hated being forced to stare at the muted gray tattoos, tattoos that should be flowing with color and...power. The Water Tribe tattoo on his shoulder that he once wore with bride was now a burden. He wasn’t worthy of it until the moment it first shines with blues and greens.
He understood why they, the exiled cats, had been cast off. His mother, for example, had not agreed with either side and did not want violence. She had left the tribes, fallen in love with another exiled cat, and began living a new life with her mate and son.
Echo was, well, with lack of a better word, shocked when he heard that some cats were now returning to the tribes. His heart fluttered and his stomach flipped--he was going to his rightful home! He would finally be excepted into the big community of cats he had been dreaming of.
--But it was not as 'magical' as he thought it would be. His heart shattered when he learned that he must be separated from his parents to become a part of the Water Tribe. His mother was of Fire Tribe and his father was an Earth Triber. It was a traumatic experience...his mother had reassured him that everything would be alright, and then she had left.
Next he had to grow accustomed to his new way of life, and without a mother or father. He was no longer to be known as Echo, the sound so familiar to his ears, but Skylr. The rules were all different, it was a whole new ballgame in a new park. He didn’t have that adopted family to turn to, no mommy or daddy, no rolling hills. He could only hope to make a new friend in this tribe, and with him being, well, him, that would be tricky.
He secretly hopes that he might become as close to somebody as he was to his  adopted kin.
“Echo”, “Skylr”, whoever he was anymore, didn’t have the history, the story he wanted. He had wasted the beginning of his life fantasizing about a bitter sweet tale of four gangs of feral cats, with tensions running high.

       What is to become of his story?
       ...

Family |

Mother - ???
Father - ???
Siblings - Deceased Sister

Souldbound | No Soulbound

Skills |

SKILL 1

Feel with your mind
_{You start to be able to feel the shape of objects with your mind.}

SKILL 2

Floating waterdrops
_{You can make waterdrops float!}

SKILL 3

Floating Wood
_{You can make pieces of wood - or lighter items - float!}

SKILL 4

Sensibility
_{Your telekinesis is more precise. For example you can now make a braid or a knot!}

Trivia / Memes |

TBA

Roleplay Example |

Roleplay from City-Of-Sundown

The student could barely make out the scene in front of her. There was...was it a pathway? Yes, dirt pathway. It wound itself around in intricate patterns and faded out behind dead trees. Trees that were etched against the blank, stripped sky. After a few moments she realized she was walking.
Her paws hurt.
How long had she been on this path? She couldn’t remember; she couldn’t remember anything.
Snap!
Wynter flinched. Had something moved behind that tree? Or maybe it had been the one to her left. Her vision swam. Her thoughts were nothing but primordial.
A snippet of fur. She felt eyes sear into her fur. The air was filled with something so familiar, yet she couldn’t remember...a name. The figure made himself visible. Gray fur. Evergreen eyes. Something tugged in the back of Wynter’s mind. A friend. A foe? A friend. Gage. He looked concerned. He opened his mouth to speak though his voice reached Wynter’s ears as a jumble of sharp sounds.
Her legs could no longer support her. When had the air gotten so thick? The student really couldn’t remember having to breath so hard before. She couldn’t keep up with the air. Maybe it was that the air couldn’t keep up with her lungs. Wouldn’t it be easier if everything just...stopped.
The air caught in her chest. Gage’s eyes widened in fear and, painfully, he tore his gaze from Wynter and was forced to run.
Wynter was...scared? No, no she didn’t feel...feel scared. She didn’t feel. She wasn’t really there anymore, was she? Her mind and thoughts became questions. What’s going on? Who is doing this? Why? Why? Consciousness was fading, fading fast...
This was the infection.
...
The first sound hit her ears, a scream, and she jolted awake to her paws. She could hear her heart thunder in her ears.
“What the hell was that?” Wynter lazily got to her feet, fatigue clouding her vision and her mind still in a dream. What did it take to get a decent nap around here? She needed rest from the incident with Lara yesterday. She knew the infected were crazy, but she had never expected to see that behavior from a healthy cat. What went on in that she-cat’s mind? Wynter didn’t even want to know.
The tortie stretched her long, skinny limbs and proceeded to investigate where the strange shriek had originated. It was so hard to track anything in the dead city--there were so many tall, crumbling buildings, corners and alleyways, sound scurried across the walls like frightened prey. Then she saw them--A group of gang cats that seemed to be engaged in a physical fight. But, as Wynter scented the air, she caught something familiar, something too familiar, something dark. Upon closer inspection, realization hit Wynter like an expert predator’s aim. It was that crazy she-cat from yesterday. It seems the cat had lost her grip on reality once more--Wynter couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. The poor cat couldn't help it...but this madness needed to stop.
Acting on pure instinct, Wynter leaped down from the low, flat roof she had been perched on and onto a trashcan. The can wobbled for a moment and the student thought it was going to crash and give away her position--but thankfully it evened out just in time. "Damn it, that was close." She sighed under her breath. She recovered herself, leaping to the ground and finding various things to climb on until she was on a windowsill just above the still screeching cats.
Wynter held her breath. Did she really want to do this? Did she really want to risk it? The demon in cat's skin was out for blood, who said she even had a chance to defend herself let alone Lara’s victims? It was time to put on a brave face. The she-cat dropped down onto the pavement behind Lara and crouched down, puffing out her fur, widening her eyes and pulling her lips back in a snarl to reveal needle like teeth. "Step away, Ms. Prickly-Ass." She growled.
She knew she was getting herself into a whole lot of trouble.

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