TRD - Aquilina, the Nightjar

 

                                           || GENERAL ||

 

Name Aquilina

       Name meaning Feminine form of Aquila, meaning “Eagle”

Species Iberian Lynx

Gender Female

Rank Initiate

Birthday  August 25

Age 2 years and 7 months (starting was 1 year and 8 months)

Genetics     dominant: ear tufts [AA], lynx spots [AA], gray coloration [Aa], amber eyes [Aa], long cheek fur [Aa]

                     recessive: light underbelly [aa], short tail [aa]

                     carrier: piebald, snaggle tooth, reddish-brown fur hints

Physical Description Compact and lean with a little bulk on her, like others of her kind, but not impressive. Of a regular height for a female, standing 62 cm at shoulder, and weighing in at 9.0 kilograms.

 

                                            || P E R S O N A L I T Y ||

 

Quiet and Aloof Soft-spoken by nature, and reserved to top it all off, Aquilina is the farthest thing from what you’d call a social butterfly. That doesn’t mean she won’t talk at all, of course, but she isn’t going to go so out of her way to intermingle. She can handle a crowd, but it’s the noise that gets to her. Over excitable cats can be draining for her to interact with, but so long as the other is polite, she’ll do her best to at least try. Getting close to her emotionally is somewhat difficult. She’s never bonded or leaned on anyone before, and anyone she thought she could’ve was either offed or deadly. She prefers to keep her distance, in case the same fate is to fall on those around her now. They’re living in a war, and she fears how it will end for all sides involved.

Naive and Blunt Aquilina has only recently come into the wild, and though she’s doing her best to learn, she can still be somewhat clueless about the world around her. This lynx works best when she’s been told exactly what to do. On top of her naivety, she’s rather innocent and fairly clear-minded, so jokes and innuendo can sometimes fly over her head, or even offend if she takes what is said literally. But she can offend too, at times, with her straightforwardness. Aquilina isn’t one to beat around the bush; she figures it’s a waste of breath better used elsewhere.

Empathetic and Passionate She’s seen things in life, experienced things she’d never wish upon another cat. Aquilina is not tough in body, but she makes up for it with a sort of strength in spirit. It is not pity that stirs her, but a sentimentality and respect for suffering and sorrow when she sees it. She’s passionate about the things she holds dear, her newfound freedom, the will to survive, and the drive to ensure you do. Her fervor can easily become a fury if she feels she has been disrespected or threatened. She’s a quiet cat, but not without a temper.

Wary and Impulsive Though she is naïve when it comes to survival smarts, make no mistake, this lynx is no trusting fool. A side born from her time in the coliseum, Aquilina distrusts everything at first glance, and then some. She borders paranoid, and while this helps her detect things that are out of place, it keeps her nerves strained up. She may act rashly or jump to conclusions based on her observations alone, and she is not always correct, nor is it welcome.

Fierce and Ruthless It can be rather shocking for those who know Aquilina only as quiet and reserved, to see her pull out all the stops in battle. It’s a grave change from a creature once considered practically tame, but the coliseum has taught her that sometimes to live, another must die. It’s not personal, simply a fact. She finds no spark in battle, no thrill in taking another’s life, no satisfaction in the feel of blood staining her paws. But to protect, to defend, to live, she will fight, and not always what can be considered honorably. No one who threatens her, or the way of life of the cats around her, will be spared.

 

     I was the last cub my mother ever bore in the cages of my first master. It was...a quiet, if dim existence, back then. You have little to look forward to when you're cooped up in a cage in a great dark room, day in and day out, and it doesn't help when the only reason you're even alive is to die for your pelt. You see that’s what my master did for a living; breed us lynx for our soft furs. That was our lot in life. And…my kind accepted it. I never truly understood why. Perhaps it was because they’d never known another way, because the dark and close quarters and the dull life had made them grow dull in turn, tame. But they weren’t all so. My master had two great cats for protection, leopards I think they were. I never got a good glimpse of them in my lifetime, but he’d send them out to capture wild stock every so often so bloodlines didn’t run too close.

     My granddaddy was one of those captured cats. I didn't get to know him all too well. He was stripped of his skin when I was five months old. But I remembered what he looked like, all battle worn, and pining to return to the wild, to that battle for life. I couldn't understand him either, but his raving must have hit me somewhere deep, for it to have stuck with me all this while. That and his defiance. Perhaps that’s why I couldn’t accept our fate. My kind…they did all they could to…convince themselves, that they were fine with dying when the master decreed it…Life might have been dull in the cages, but there was security, and we never had want for food or shelter. They passed around horror stories of life outside the cages, of constant fighting and famine and struggle and death. The wild caught cats always snorted and turned their backs, but the others took no heed. They even had this belief that…by ‘giving’ our skins to the humans to wear, we’d live on forever with their power. Maybe they were fools for their belief, but…it was their only hope.

     My mother, she was one of those cats who believed. I’m not sure why her belief didn’t rub off on me, but then while she was attentive to me in aspects of my health, in the emotional department…she was detached. Maybe she was just trying to keep me from being hurt by her loss now that she could no longer breed and so no longer had use to the master. Or maybe she was tired of watching most all of her cubs die before her. But she was the only, small solace I had in that place, and despite my own efforts to convince myself otherwise, I didn’t want to lose her. When the arrow flew toward her, just like others before her she didn’t run, didn’t resist. As for myself, I screamed for her even after the arrow pierced through her eye into the living brain behind, but it was useless. I ached long after they’d dragged her body away. I now found myself alone in that great crowded slaughterhouse, and I was sure I’d die that way, too. That’s how the first year of my life came and went. I tried to make friends among the others, but there is only so much you can do to bond with the living dead. That’s what I thought, anyway…until we were set free. But I hold no gratitude for the freedom they gave. Because it wasn't the Ferox who found us first. It was the ones you all call Bounty Hunters.

 || Gracing your skin with the side of my hand ||

     The battle was over fairly quickly. One moment all was calm and dreary and dull as per the norm. Then bam. Cats in gleaming armor, of all sizes and shapes and colors surged into the place. But they weren’t knights to come save us, though we didn’t know it then. That was the end of our living with the master. Turns out he’d made some bad deals somewhere down the line, and he was supposed to give a good number of us up to pay it all off. When he failed to comply, they simply took us all.

     We were taken into the coliseums, and that’s when the trouble started; the violent kind. Where the humans had looked upon us with greedy promise as fighters, they now scoffed and turned away. We were not weakened cats, of course, for it was in our master’s best interest to keep us well fed if he wanted our pelts to fetch a good price. But in the arena, there was a new price to pay. We were soft, and much too used to indolence. We weren’t battle bred or trained cats, and it soon became apparent. So instead of fighters, we became the fodder the real fighters got to practice on. That’s how I met what you Ferox would call a mentor.

     I was 'fresh meat' to her, and all that. She was a huge, impressive, scar ridden thing, a Siberian tiger and a great example of the species. I knew I didn’t stand a chance. But I’d seen others of my kind go down in the arena wailing, struggling, but not fighting back. Whether it was due to fear or the fact that they didn’t know how to fight, or a combination of both, I didn’t know. But I was hell bent on not giving up without a fight. She pinned me on my back without breaking a sweat, and that’s when I began to flail and lash out, claws unsheathed for the first time in my life. I barely tickled her, but I do remember splitting her nose right down the middle, and seeing death in her eyes directly after. She battered me around, but she didn’t kill me. She seemed amused by my efforts, and it got my gut. I threw myself at her in a last ditch effort and dug my teeth into her shoulder, and kept my hold like a dog. And she laughed at me. The sound amazed me. It was startling, because the laughter was of a living, breathing cat just like myself, not some homicidal beast. She told me that if I wanted to survive a real fight, not to use my teeth and retain my hold, but to stay clear or I’d be pinned in a second and dead the next. She batted me off, and circling me, she made a choice , one that I have always thought strange since; she spared me. And above that, she trained me.

 || Placing a smile at the perfect event ||

     Her name was Sainfoin. The veteran of more than her fair share of battles, she was a terror in the ring, and she knew it well. I’m not sure why it is she took a runt like me under her wing. Maybe she admired that I’d tried to fight back, pathetic as it was. Or maybe she just wanted me to be tough enough to give her a good fight before she took the pleasure of cutting me down. She used to say as much, at least. That’s where we differed; she was a born and raised fighter, and she lived for battle. I fought because the alternative was to die, and after everything I had gone through, it seemed an ungrateful and foolish way to go. Outside of the arena, Sainfoin was more civil, but even then she made sure I kept my guard up, even around her. Though she was the closest thing I could’ve called a friend in my life, I wouldn’t have trusted her enough to turn my back on her for even a moment. It was hard going.

     Did I come to kill in that place? Well, I stand here before you, and not some other cat, so of course it’s only natural to assume that I did. I didn’t kill many, as I wasn’t put into too many fights. But I killed enough to last me a lifetime, though I know there is fighting still to be done. I don’t like to think about them. I did what I had to do in those moments, and I did my best to make their ends swift. It’s a bitter solace, but I’ve accepted it nonetheless. I never did meet Sainfoin in the ring. I don’t even know what became of her. The Ferox came before we could fight, and I guess I should count my blessings that they came when they did. I was weakening, with all the fighting and paranoia and need to live. I doubt I’d have lasted through more than a few more fights.

 || Let me save you, hold this rope ||

     They stole through in the night, and as they freed us, Bounty Hunters arrived to stop them. It was a bloody business, worse than anything I'd seen in the arena. Perhaps it was because at least in the arena, it was a simple one on one affair. But out here, it was like two great waves of moving bodies, crashing and breaking against each other, edged in bloody spume and yawning gullets, pierced by the shrieks of cats, all alike. And yet, completely different. Two Ferox had opened my cage soon enough, but before we could break free, a Bounty Hunter loomed in our way. The violence around me woke something deep inside, an instinct not even Sainfoin could drag out of me. Perhaps because before that moment, there was no hope. And now, in an instant, there was. I didn't want to go back to the coliseum. I didn't want to go back to the cage. I didn't want to go back. So I went forward. I remember flashing my claws, blood catching in them. The Ferox must have helped, because suddenly the way was clear, and we were running. The night sky opened up over head, and my heart soared. I followed the Ferox as their forces pulled out with a number of other escapees. Followed them forward.

     I almost didn't stop running. I charged like a mad cat into the midst of their home, and had to be forcibly pinned down in order to be stopped. I suppose I must have seemed quite crazy to them in that moment. I certainly had had enough moments in the past to snap and turn loony. But, I was and still like to think that I’m pretty sane. After a night's rest and a good long explanation in the morning, I was good to go, if a little giddy. Hey, it's understandable to be excited to be free after a life of being incarcerated, isn't it? Now, I'm here, with the Ferox. I couldn't lose my mind just yet. I'm getting by here, learning what I need to in order to survive. It's been...an experience, getting used to this place. These cats and their ways. I've always lived apart from others, even when I was cooped up in my master's crowded cage all that time ago. I didn't trust any coliseum cat as far as I could throw them (which, considering the fact that I can barely even knock any of them over, is not an impressive distance in the least). But here, they are tightly knit. They have lives and freedom and something to fight for. I only ever fought for my own hide. After everything that's happened, life as what they call a Solus seems ideal...but the thought of stepping back and allowing other cats to suffer when I can help the Ferox free them rubs my fur the wrong way. And it confuses me to no end. Why should I start to care for cats who I neither know nor have connection to? All my life I have been merely surviving, and by mere chance. Now I finally have an opportunity to live. But to live only for myself, as I have been doing all this time...I feel like my life would remain as empty as before. Things don’t feel like they’ve gotten any easier.

     I suppose I still have yet to escape the fighting.

 || I'll stay awake 'til I trade my mistakes ||
     I didn't know what to do. What to do with all this freedom I'd, I'd suddenly just gained. I didn't know how to put it to use. Nothing up to that point in my life had ever really...taught me that. It was unnerving. All the other Ferox, even the other initiates, knew or had some idea of what they wanted in life. But me? I still half-expected all this to be some desperate dream I'd be woken up from by Sainfoin's claws in my skin, no doubt. I remained distant to the other Ferox, and gave the Solus wide berth. The Hunters, it goes without saying. Of course, I didn't spend all my time just hiding. When I wasn't watching them from afar, I was learning from the Ferox up close. Hunting, scouting, fighting. The basics really, but enough that would make me useful among them at least. But it didn't make me feel any less empty than before.
     Until those few months of listlessness came to a bloody end. The arrival of the Olum brought with it the threat of a violence I was all too familiar with, and the Hunters stole with more success than the Ferox had seen in some time. Cats who's faces I'd come to recognize in the camp disappeared in ever growing numbers, an eerie echo of the situation in my first home. But I felt differently now. Where once I would not have cared, dismissed the disappearances as unavoidable and unchangeable events, I began to wonder. "Is there something that can be done to stop this?"
     The chance to do just that came when the Hunters asked us to meet them. I joined the patrol to discuss the truce, and it succeeded. We would unite, regain the cats lost to the Hunters, and fight back against the invading Northerners. In the time before the war began, I watched hope and joy flood through the ranks of the Ferox as captured cats returned. I saw them rally for war, to defend and protect everything they had regained and still held, and there I began to see. Just how trapped I'd still been, even after all this time. I was no longer in a cage, no, but...it was like my own mind had become a prison in itself. Because I still couldn't let go of the horrors I'd seen, and I couldn't understand why it was me, of all the others who could be standing here. I never will forget, because to forget would be a disgrace to them, and to myself. But maybe, it isn't about escaping the fighting, because that is what life is; a fight to survive, a fight to live. I didn't really know about freedom back then, and I don't think I know any better now. But I think I've begun to understand what they mean, when they say that to fight, you must have something to fight for. My reason, perhaps it may not be as noble as some.
     But when the war began, and I entered the fray, I finally knew what I would fight for. I have a life, and I want to begin to live it. I fight for me. And someday, in my future, I will have the skill and strategy to fight for something bigger than myself, and to help others do the same. As they aided me. And maybe then...then I'll know why. 

 || But "Sentimental Boy" is my nom de plume ||
     TBA...

 

 

                    speed; Aquilina is small but quick, and so she must use it to her full advantage in a fight, even against opponents much bigger than herself. Weaving back and forth, keeping her distance and using her claws to wear down opponents with pain and blood loss in the wake of quick blows, before jumping back out of reach is her strategy.

                    attack; A ‘finishing blow’ of sorts, Aquilina developed this strange attack in the coliseum. The original reason being her lack of striking strength, as well as to keep her clear of a dying enemy who’s last moments she found no joy in seeing. Using her hooked claws, she strikes vulnerable spots with her forepaws and latches on momentarily. Then she brings up her back legs up and pushes off the enemy like a rabbit, tearing her claws through flesh and fur. She keeps her claws sharpened just for this; if she fails to tear free, she risks getting caught and pinned, and subsequently killed.

                    stealth; Silence and stealth come naturally to Aquilina. She’s not quite sure why, but she figures it might have to do with a life of being distant from others and her simple quiet nature. She can walk up behind others without making a sound, which can be somewhat jarring for the unsuspecting, and a spotted pelt helps her blend in with the foliage. Darkness is a little trickier with her white parts, but a coat of mud usually helps that.

 

tactical 4

endurance 5

speed 10

strength 5

defense 3

attack 7

 

                    repetitive; It doesn’t take a genius to figure out Aquilina’s attack pattern once she’s struck a few times, and in the heat of battle she usually forgets to change things up. She prefers battling with a partner because of this, to draw the majority of an enemy’s attention while she tears at their sides over and over. Otherwise, it isn’t all too odd to have her attacks be foreseen, and subsequently have her feet swept out from under her.

                    strength; She’s not strong. This fluffball doesn’t have to tell you for you to know that. She isn’t undersized, but she’s a lynx, so she’s naturally smaller than just about any other cat, except maybe a cub (though those usually end up outgrowing her too, oi). It wouldn’t take more than a few blows to bring her down, and so all chips are down in a fight. It’s either her all, or her life.

                    jaw; Because she fights almost solely with her claws and the small built up strength in her legs, her jaw is weak, at least for a fight against a cat rather than prey. She also has a small maw, which makes getting a hold on a throat, much less biting through it, difficult. And she doesn’t have the leisure in a fight to wait for her opponent to slowly suffocate to death as with prey.

 

                    Lynx pelt and ink jar;  A pelt that was unconsciously taken by Aquilina from the master’s place the night of the Bounty Hunter raid. Unconsciously, and unwanted. Though she does not recall the events that transpired that night, she knows that when she bolted from her cage she got caught on it without realizing what it was. She passed out from terror, and she was taken to the arena with it still on. Sainfoin convinced her to keep it as a point of intimidation. “Who knows,” the tigress had sniggered, “maybe your opponents will take you for some sort of cannibal and think twice about facing you down.” The jar holds black dye to darken water or other substances to blot out the white of her fur in case there isn't any mud.

                    Water lover; Aquilina quite enjoys a good soak, even if it can be difficult to dry out with her thick fur. But being so new to the wild, she isn't all too good of a swimmer. Doggy-paddling is the best she can do, and even then she doesn't exactly excel at it. So she sticks to wading in the shallows. She takes care to keep her large ears above the water, as they're sensitive and apt to getting water in them. Which is never any fun. Ever.

 

 

Sainfoin: She was a hard teacher, no doubt about it. Even in training, she was fighting to kill, keeping my wits up. She taught me how to use speed and my small size to my advantage, keeping enemies back and my body constantly moving. But more than that, she taught me how to put on a bloody show in the arena. With my size, it took some time to bring down certain opponents, so I had to keep the humans entertained. But beyond that, she didn’t teach me much else. Her style didn’t fit me, seeing our physical differences, and she only knew about fighting one on one. It isn’t like that out here. She’d never had to hunt, either, with humans providing her meals, so she couldn’t teach me that either. I’m lucky the Ferox can and are willing though.

 

 

Parents Slavka (mother, deceased), Levan (father, deceased)

Siblings several, but their fates are not known (most are deceased however)

Mate none

Offspring none

Other kin unknown

 

 
-Taken from a rp-

Are paused, nodding slowly as they spoke. "Well, we're not quite so new. However, we've been keeping mostly to ourselves since the incident with the statue, trying to get settled in and such." Are lifted her head and smiled a little as they introduced themselves. "It's nice to meet you, Cosme and Kidd. My name is Are. This is Elluel," she motioned with her muzzle to the Eevee.

Elluel, meanwhile, was quick to hop over to the two males, inspecting them curiously, her nose twitching all the while. 

"Don't mind her," Are stated, "She's just getting to know you in her own sort of way."

She paused again, perking her ears up. "So, I take it you two have been here for some time already?" Are noted Cosme's staring, and her tail twitched uncomfortably. "Perhaps you are familiar with the guilds?"

Are couldn't help the small twinge of pleasure she felt at the sight of the two males mimicking Elluel's greeting style. She turned back to Cosme and nodded. "This place is certainly nice, now that everything has calmed down. The population is quite big, though," she admitted with a chuckle, "Far bigger than I'm used to. It can get a little overwhelming. I suppose I'll get accustomed to it eventually."

Elluel was clearly delighted at the prospect of making new friends, and she also seemed pleased by Kidd's comment of her being cute. She got up on her back legs and touched her nose to his for a moment, then turned and crouched down to snag a few blades of grass. She chewed contentedly, glancing around at the new faces.

Are smiled at Kidd and gave a light laugh. "She definitely likes you now, now that you've helped inflate her ego even more." Elluel turned her head away indignantly, still eating, tail twitching furiously in annoyance.

At Cosme's smooth compliment, Are started back and blushed a little. "U-uh, thank you...?" she replied warily, giving him an awkward grin. She noticed Kidd kick at the Furfrou's legs, and figured that this probably happened more often than the Fennekin liked. "You uh...don't look to bad yourself...?" She cast around for a topic, and quickly continued, "S-so, I'm sure you're familiar with the guilds? Almost everyone around here is part of one or the other. Are you, perhaps?"
________________
Character and art (c)