Crispin

 ~Key~

Question: Crispin's response
    ➡ Real Answer


~General Information~

Name: I'm called Crispin!
    ➡ Crispin
Gender: I'm a boy!
    ➡ Male
Age: The little one!
    ➡ Six Moons
Orientation: What?
    ➡ Too Young
Companion: My Chickens! ...But they aren't here right now.
    ➡ None

~Region Information~

Region: The one on fire!
    ➡ West
Rank: Seeker of the chickens!
    ➡ Hunter Rookie
Guide(s): ???
Rookie(s): Too Young

~Element Information~

Element: I'm a normal cat!
    ➡ None
Amount of Ability Stones: Don't neeeeed one!
    ➡ None
Which Spells: I can swipe at the bad guys!
    ➡ None

~Physical Appearance~


~Stats~

Strength:                I lifted a lot of corn once (a whole ear!)
Speed:                    I can run away pretty good!
Attack:                    When I hit them, they will think they stubbed their paw (I'm really strong!)
Tactics:                   Hit 'em a lot and then run away! Or fall over and wait.
Stamina:                 I can run around until bedtime!
Defense:                 I stepped on some sharp gravel and it only kinda hurt!

~Personality~

+ Positive: "I accidentally scared a mouse - But it's okay, he got away!"
Crispin has a positive outlook at all times. He doesn't try to be optimistic, he IS optimistic. He doesn't know how anything can be bad, excpet for temporary annoyances or things he's nervous for. But he is a little too optimistic for a wannabe-wild cat. Someone who will teach Crispin would need to be very patient, because when something goes wrong, you can bet he'll indirectly find a way to annoy you through his optimism. He was raised to be happy no matter what, and despite his occasional scares he will always smile.

+ Loyal: "I'll never forget it!"
With his strong sentimentality, this kit won't forget important events in his life. He may forget small lessons and encounters, but he'll never forget when somebody is nice to him. Crispin may even go as far as forgetting what a cat has done, but because of his sense of loyalty, he'll know that they're a helpful or good person. He can even look past people's wrongdoings easily. A bully can find themselves shocked by his ability to be kind to others, even cats who have done him wrong. This may be because of his innocence and his strong feminine side from living with his Mother for so long, but it is a (mostly) good quality to have in dramatic situations.

- Ignorant: "I don't know what that means, but okay!"
Because of his coddled nature, he is very ignorant of the way the world works. He doesn't understand the concept of getting food because food was always gotten for him. He doesn't understand the concept of other cats being annoyed by him because he thinks he's friendly. He doesn't understand how clumsy he is because he thinks a "Sorry" and giving his best to fix it (Which is always more cumbersome than the mistake he made) is good enough for anything.

- Slow Learner: "Can you tell me how to catch the squirrels again?" 
Since he is very quick to forget, Crispin learns very slow. He may have a lot of patience with himself and others, but to find someone other than his mother who will understand how slow he is will be hard to come by. He isn't stupid, there just aren't enough patient teachers in the world to help him learn what he needs to know. But don't expect a good lesson to last on him, because after a nap, he'll probably forget what was so important about being quiet when you sneak up on prey.

- Confused: "That's too hard - but I can try!" 
This kitty can't keep his attention on one thing at a time for too long - so he easily loses track of things. Because of his innocence, difficult topics make him tilt his head and say "What?". If something confuses him he'll most likely not tell you and nod his head. If he struggles with something he'll likely just push his way through, trying to do things the way he thinks he should rather than the way he was told. His forgetfulness really plays a part of his confusion of simple tasks.

~Brief History~

Prologue: For a long few years the only sounds that played across the farm were the soft murmurs of the chickens as they ate their feed, the gentle hush of the corn husks as the wind blew through them, and the squeaks of mice in the barn. However, with time those squeaks became an annoyance, and were ready to be replaced by the mewling of kittens. Two adult mousers, Antebella and Chester, were adopted with the intention of raising a litter of little mouse-chasers. Quickly they fell for one another. Antebella's calm, southern belle demeanor and Chester's humbly brave character clicked and the two became two kernels on the same cob. It wasn't long until Chester had to take care of an expecting Queen, bringing her food from the fields they had hunted in all their lives. 

History: As the sound of crunching fall leaves became a part of the farm, so did the mewling of newborn kittens. Chester and Antebella were the proud father and mother of five squirming kits. Antebella looked amongst the cats that ran the spectrum between sandy and white. Four boys; Carson, Casey, Chandler, and Crispin, and a girl; Annabella. She gave them all C names since they reminded her of her yellow and white mate. But for the girl, who's fur was pure white like her Mother, an A name like her own. But the color of these fidgeting kits wasn't all that stood out. One cat was especially little, tinier than the others who yearned to nurse. As soon as she laid her eyes on this small baby she tried to pull him closer, saying "My little runt..." with the happy face of an exhausted mother. She watched him with a smile, imagining their future time together, while Chester looked over them, thinking of the hunting they could all accomplish under his training. Crispin wasn't so interesting to the father for these reasons. When it was time for them to run about in the fields of the farm, learning to catch the mice they were hired for, the Mother realized her postpartum depression at it's fullest. After bargaining with Chester to let her lay with the growing kits for longer each time he asked to start showing them around, they had come to an agreement. She could keep her little runt with her for the whole day, while the rest would have to leave sometime during the day and train under the father. While the other four learned how to sneak and pounce outside with the father, Crispin learned how to be safe and snuggled inside with the Mother. 

Both cats fulfilled their curiosity in different ways, but Crispin was convinced that the best place was beside his Mother. As with all things in nature, he could not be held onto forever. When he wanted to explore with the others and go outside with his Mother when she hunted, he wanted to have keep busy. The answer to this little curious Crispin was the chicken pen. Crispin would play and sit with the chickens in their outdoor pen "keeping watch" over them as his mother would say. But she knew that he just needed the chickens as a distraction, to keep him soft for his Mother. Crispin didn't kill the chickens or even scratch them, in his time there. He thought of them as, quiet, clucking, playmates who he was in charge of watching over. When he was permitted he'd take a break from his imaginary vigil, and play with his brothers and sisters in the fields. But that would only lead to them taking away his safety-blanket bandana that he wore at all times. He was scared of bullies like his brothers, but it was never a fear that made him unwilling to try and befriend them - and in the future, others. 

Later, when his Mother's depression had subsided, he would even spend a few nights amongst his unnamed, feathered friends. Until one fateful night when the cage wasn't locked firmly enough, and the chickens had made their escape into the wild. This was, despite all of Crispin's efforts to save them from running away, the last time he'd see "his" chickens... and the farm itself. This was because he felt he had a duty to guard these beasts, and that duty included finding them when lost. The runt searched the forest for the rest of the night, running into the winter snow of - unbeknownst to this cold kitten - the North Region. It was chilly in the winds of a new and mysterious place, with only his red bandana to keep him warm. However with all his running, the piece of cloth slumped off of his neck. He decided that he couldn't go any further. He was too exhausted and lacked sleep. It was that bandana, however that made his rescue possible. Fortunata, the trespassing warrior spotted the bright red cloth over a small kitten in the snow. She would later scruff this kit, along with his bandana, to the West region. After being rescued by the pride-seeking Fortunata, the lost, directionless kit had nowhere to go but the nursery. That was, until he grew up to be a rookie that would help this brave new region of his, as a hunter rookie.
Relationships:

 Family
 Mate


Extra Information

He's pretty much this

RolePlay Sample

    The large, glinting, pools of orange upon Crispin's face flashed back and forth. The world became a maze of snow around the inexperienced kit. Snow flew in the biting breezes, tumbled across the drifts under his feet, and obscured the horizon. "Chickens? Don't go too far, okay? I gotta stop for a little!" The cat said, trying to maintain his positivity for the chickens he was certain were listening to him. Hopefully they would listen to what could possibly be this cat's final request. The pale orange form of the cat was now more like that of his mother's, half covered in snow like white fur. He crumpled to the ground with his new pelt, accidentally stepping on his bandana. The knot gave way behind his neck, unraveling like his mother's mind would that next morning. But e forgot about all that, a new childlike sense of duty took place for now. The bandana quickly replaced his whitened pelt, becoming the only buffer for the relentless winds of the North region. He held his secondary fur down, with shivering paws and chattering mouth. Chewing on the frayed edge nervously, he waited for the strength to move on. The strength that would never come until maybe years later. For now, he would wait to become savior of the chickens. It wasn't he who would save his nonspeaking friends, but another kind - if you could call it that - savior was necessary. His bright red sheet signaled the necessary savior of this condemned kit: Fortunata.

(c) Panai for the pic

(c) GhastForce for the ideas + words + character design