I would like to adopt!
Number: 11
Picture: 
Name: Tarrow
Species: Smili
Personality: Feral, savage, uncivilized. To the average smili, Tarrow is nothing more than a mere animal, lacking the capacity to communicate and think in complex ways. the rare thought he does entertain will be more within the lines of a short impulse than an actual "thought". He is merely a slave of his instincts, yet he will never protest or break free from them. These instincts are what keep him alive, and are his only ways of perceiving the world around him. In his eyes, nothing is wrong with his life.
Tarrow normally communicates with various oinks and grunts, sounds mostly unknown to the rest of the smili population. What little of the smili language he does speak is rough and broken, and hardly understandable with his rough, thick accent. Rarely will these sentences extend longer than, "You my mate?" or "Tarrow want food." Hardly able to understand him, most simply ignore him. So he'd run away again, returning to his den deep within the forest and back to his solitary existence. Though the constant drive to mate brings him back to his species year after year, Tarrow will otherwise rarely approach another member of his species, unless in times of extreme hardship.
Tarrow will never back down from a fight, no matter the opponent. When feeling threatened, his first response will almost always be aggression. While another smili might make an attempt at sizing up the threat first, or seek out an escape route, Tarrow simply determines the best way of attack, cutting out the rest. Retreating, to him, is not an option to think about. He either wins the fight or he dies. There is no middle ground, and he will never show that he is weaker. He would rather be killed than to submit. For this reason, many regard him as a good fighter. Or perhaps he is simply foolish for charging into fights he could avoid.
Tarrow much prefers scavenging to hunting, and when possible will seek out an already dead carcass to feed on. He is a very poor hunter, being too loud and quick in his approach. While fighting comes naturally for him, hunting is a whole different story. A fight requires no hiding, no stealth, just the chase and the attack. He didn't need to be taught that. It was a learned behavior, and one that was learned quickly for him. What few hunting lessons he got from his mother are long forgotten now, and he never managed to teach himself or learn from the boars. He no longer possesses the intelligence needed to learn such a complex behavior.
Of course, he wasn't always this way. As a cub he was curious and innocent, much like any other of his species. He'd stare for hours at the little birds flying about, or examining the flowers. When his mother died, things began to change. He remembered little of his cub-hood and the lessons he was taught by his mother, and remembers little of the boar herd. As he mind degraded further and further, he found that he could hardly recall these memories. Eventually they faded, pushed to the back of his mind where they sat, forgotten.
Forgotten, that is, until he hears the song of a bird or catches a glance of a flower when a memory would visit him. He'd see his mothers gentle face in a flower sometimes. And though he no longer reconised her, the image would calm him. At one point, he knew, this smili was important to him.
Just how or why he would never know, but she was important nonetheless.
Likes: Tarrow is an incredibly simple creature in both his likes and dislikes. He likes flowers and birds because of the memories he associates with them. He likes food because he needs it to survive. Rarely will his reasons be more complex than that, and just about anything that in some way helps him is something he likes.
Dislikes: Just like his likes, his dislikes are simple. He hates feeling trapped or helpless, such as in a thunder storm. He can see and hear everything, but can do nothing to stop it. All he can do is hide and hope that soon this attacker will leave. He can't fight it, and he can't stop the flashbacks from coming. These storms bring him back to the day of his mother's death, a moment he hates to relive.
Background:"Tarrows, tarrows!" The cub shouted, unsuccessfully stalking and leaping at his prey.
The older smili laughed, watching him play. "No silly, they're sparrows."
"Tarrows?"
"Sparrows."
The cub frowned and tilted his head. "I said that. Tarrows."
She shook her head lightly, but gave up on arguing with her son. How silly it was to be arguing over the name of a bird. He'd grow out of it eventually. She patted his head with her paw, saying, "You're my little Tarrow, you know that?"
Tarrow nodded. Of course he knew. He was her cub, her little boy, he was her everything, he had a thousand little nicknames. He liked Tarrow especially. He liked being a bird.
"Well then that's good. Let's get some sleep now, you'll need your rest if you're going to go hunting tomorrow." The mother warned, gesturing towards the den.
The little cub's eyes lit up as he heard the words. He bounded over, allowing the bird to fly away. "Hunting? Weally? You promise?"
"I promise."
With that, little Tarrow scampered off to the den. That night he fell asleep quickly, visions of dear and rabbits filling his dreams. Finally his mother would take him hunting. Maybe he'd even catch his own rabbit. Mom would be so proud of him.
It rained softly that night, though no one paid it much attention.
-----
The mother stalked gracefully forward, sniffing the air. Her cub ran after her, stumbling and trying hard to keep up. She stopped and looked back at him, waiting for him to catch up. My, how he's grown. She thought, remembering the tiny, helpless cub he used to be not so long ago. Though still a bit on the small side, he certainly was growing fast, and made up for it in spirit. He soon caught up to her, out of breath and panting, but certainly happy.
"Okay, it's time for your first lesson. Sniff the air, and tell me what you smell." She said to him. Tarrow did as he was told, but to his surprise he could find no scent. He sniffed again, and again. All he smelled was rain and plants, but no prey. He sighed, feeling disappointed. Maybe he wouldn't be able to catch his rabbit after all.
"Smell anything?" She asked. Tarrow could only shake his head sadly. "It's okay. It's raining, and that's washing away all the scents. We'll work on tracking another day, when the sun is shining and the rabbits come out. Just follow me for now." The rain had, in fact, picked up, and even she was having trouble finding a scent. With another sniff she found the scent of a deer, and began stalking again. Her cub tried to do the same, attempting to mimic her movements, but only succeeding in dragging his stomach along the ground and creating even more of a disturbance. The mother couldn't help but laugh at her son. "Lift up your stomach. Now stay low . . . Yes, that's it. They'll never see you now, especially with that lovely brown coat of yours." Tarrow smiled and stalked forwards, careful to keep his stomach lifted as he was instructed. He was an expert hunter now, disappearing into the brush and completely unseen by his prey. Or at least he was in his mind.
The mother looked to they sky again as the rain continued to pick up. The sky was nearly black now, and it looked as if it would soon pour. But the scent was getting closer though, and she was almost certain that she saw the tracks of a fawn as well. There would be no harm in continuing. The storm could probably wait until their hunt was finished. Tarrow too stared at the clouds in a mixture of amazement and confusion. It was only the morning, yet it was dark as the night.
Is the sky angry? He thought, but quickly shook it off. His mother was confident, so he did his best to be like her. She was, after all, his mother and she always knew best. So he continued to stalk, feeling proud and confident. He was finally hunting, storm or not. The little cub could hardly contain his joy.
The rain picked up again, steadily growing in intensity. "Mommy?" Tarrow whimpered. He was only answered with a gentle hush, as the deer came into view.
Crack!The sky lit up in a flash of white light as lightning struck a nearby tree, sending it up in flames. The little cub could only watch as the tree fell, coming crashing down towards him. His legs were frozen from shock. He was paralyzed with fear. The tree would crush him, and he could do nothing to stop it. Squeezing his eyes shut, Tarrow prepared to be crushed.
Crash!Something knocked him aside, sending him tumbling away from the tree. Confused, he struggled to his feet and tried to look around. Though his head throbbed and his vision was blurry, he knew that the tree was not on top of him. For a second the small cub was proud of himself. Somehow he must have jumped aside just in time to escape the tree. "Mommy, mommy! Guess what-" Tarrow's enthusiasm vanished as his vision cleared. Under the tree where he had been just seconds ago, now lay a smili, gasping for air and obviously in a great deal of pain. He tried to focus and convince himself that his mother escaped, and that it was only another unfortunate creature there.
Then she called his name. There was no mistaking her voice, even as weak as it was. He rushed over, pushing as hard as he could at the tree. It refused to budge, no matter how hard he pushed at it. Though he was sweaty and exhausted, he continued to try, but to no avail. His mother watched helplessly, panting the words, "Please Tarrow ...get...some...rest..." He gave one more push before giving up, curling up next to her and closing his eyes.
At that moment her eyes grew dim and her breathing stopped, never to start again.
-----
She found him in a clearing, sleeping next to the carcass of a dead smili. The cub was soaked to the bone, had a deep gash above his eye, and the fur on his paws was singed black. The old sow took pity on the tiny little creature. It must have lost it's parents in the forest fire that happened the night before. The little orphan would never survive on his own, certainly not at this age. The predators would find him soon, just as they had with her own piglets long ago. He wouldn't stand a chance. No longer having any cubs of her own, she decided to take the little one in. With a gentle nudge, she tried to awaken him. He didn't budge.
When he finally awoke, the sow was shocked to see that this was no boar. It's face was distinctly feline, and it's tail was much too long. It cried words of a strange, foreign language of snarls and meows like she had never heard before. Yet it still had the markings of a piglet, and she could see what looked to be the start of tusks growing from it's mouth. It had to be some sort of monster, perhaps a hybrid. Whether it was a monster or not though, she still couldn't bear to leave him alone. Her maternal instincts kicked in, and she knew she'd have to raise this little animal, no matter what it became. Perhaps he would even fit in with the others. They were such violent, raging beasts. A predator would do well within their ranks, she thought. Unlike her, no one would notice the difference. They were too busy hunting and fighting amongst themselves to notice his species.
Carefully she carried him back to her group. Tarrow looked around him, seeing nothing but large, hairy brown beasts. They stared back at him, looking him over. The sow stood protectively over him, warning the others not to get too close. With annoyed grunts, they turned away again to attend to other more important matters. Tarrow took a liking to her immediately. She was sweet and motherly, despite being a stranger to him. Perhaps he did remember her faintly, but his memories were distant and fuzzy now. He rarely remembered much for long. He was never truly certain of his real mother was, though he remembers another one before this.
Tarrow quickly adjusted to life within the boar community. Here, thinking was useless to all but the most experienced elders. Gut instinct and quick replaced careful thought. Tarrow found this to be helpful, as complex thoughts were now hard for him. He picked up their language fairly quickly, as it was a very simple one. The squeals and oinks proved difficult at first, for he was not meant to make such sounds, but with practice he learned. His native smili faded quickly, and soon he remembered almost nothing of it.
This time didn't last long.
The others soon grew suspicious of Tarrow as he grew. While the other cubs shed their coats and grew in their dark adult coats, his piglet coat remained. The older he got, the less he resembled others of the group, and the more he grew to look like a smili. At first the sow would reason with them, and Tarrow would be safe, until one winter the sow fell sick. Tarrow did what he could to care for the dying animal, for she was the only one he still remained attached to, but her condition only grew worse. One night, while Tarrow searched for food to bring her, she passed on. He came back to find her alone in her den
Tarrow shook his head, trying to convince himself that it wasn't true. She was sleeping of course. Boars were deep sleepers, once they fell asleep it was nearly impossible to wake one up. He decided to wait until morning, and stand guard over her until she was well again.
Morning came, and still she slept.
Gently he nudged her, just as she did when he was a cub. Only this time he knew she would never wake up. He didn't hear her quiet snoring, and her chest no longer rose up and down. She was dead, stone cold and motionless. The old sow that saved his life and rose him was dead, and he never got the chance to thank her. Tears ran down his cheeks as her pressed his face into her fur. "I'll never forget you" he sobbed. He knew this was false. Someday soon she'd be but a distant memory, just as his real mother was.
Noticing the scent of death, other boars began to approach. Tarrow turned to face them, furious that they would interrupt his good bye. They didn't even seem interested in the sow's death. They didn't care. They were only focused on him now. Without the sow to protect him, they could finally see how different he was. What she passed of as a boar for so long was in fact a smili. To them he was an intruder, and they were going to make that clear. Some of them opened their mouths, showing off their long, jagged tusks. He answered them with a snarl.
He soon found himself locked in a battle with one of the males of the group. He felt the tusks digging into his shoulder, ripping it apart, but he didn't care. He fought ruthlessly, tearing at the boar and bringing it to the ground. The boar kicked and squealed, but Tarrow didn't give up his fight. He locked his jaws around it's thick neck, and watched as the life slowly left it's body. He turned to face the others and prepared for another fight. But just as he was about to charge, a bright flash of light distracted him. He turned and ran, forgetting about his fight, forgetting everything.
With every flash of lightning, every roll of thunder, his memories grew clearer. He remembered listening to the birds, he remembered how he got his name now. Most of all, he remembered his mother. He remembered how the tree had crushed her, and how she saved his life. The boars were right. He wasn't one of them.
And so he began to roam the wild on his own. He no longer believed he was a boar, but found little comfort within the world of the smili either. They never understood him. As time went on, he began to retreat into his own thoughts. Tarrow no longer so desperately sought the companionship of other creatures. He found himself thinking less and less about his old families, and more about how to survive. Some say he simply lost it then. He couldn't take it anymore, and so he simply shut down, disregarding all but the most basic of impulses.
Perhaps one day he'll find someone else that will take him in, but until then, he remains alone.
Picture you drew:
If I don't get the character, I will color this and remove the background. The picture will be given to the winner.
In case anything is unclear (messy sketch >.<) it's Tarrow being haunted by the meories of his mother's death, the sow, and having other smili laugh at him.
Notes to Atwood:*I have a character site that's currently in the making right now. It's kind of empty because i'm trying to track down all of the art of my characters first, but the link is [url=•wibekescharacters.yolasite.com]here[/url]. If I get Tarrow he'll have a home there. I figured i'd let you know, since my character page only has Checkers in it and I'd hate to lose points or anything for that. Better safe than sorry, right?
*There are two other smilis in my sketch. Since they aren't colored, I don't think this should be a problem, but if it is please disregard the art section of my form. I'm currently waiting for Spotty to give permission for me to post the colored one.
OPTIONAL! This will only get you extra credit. You still have to write the rest of the form. COLORED IN LINEART IS NOT ACCEPTABLE. IT HAS TO BE ART YOU DREW FROM SCRATCH.
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