Hazard Cats are felines with long limbs and robotic parts. Their tails are made of metal with some form of energy in the center that holds it together. Glass screens are installed into their chests that show the cats' health in the form of a heartbeat, glowing orb, or even something else. The color of the glow on the screen matches their eyes, which typically have hollowed pupils. Some cats have static on their screens, but beware. Those cats are as dangerous as they are rare. Grates are positioned on each of the cats' sides and aid in breathing. Depending on the cat, steam, mist, or liquid can come from these grates. They have three eyes, but the one in the center is almost always taped down or covered with a band-aid. This is done due to the hidden and sometimes dangerous powers that the third eye contains. Large eyes allow them to see in extremely low levels of light and their big ears help them hear potential prey miles away. Thanks to their strong legs, Hazard cats can reach speeds up to fifty miles per hour and leap near ten feet up.
Remember when there was a buttload of dragon hype?
I remember when there was a buttload of dragon hype.
Fun fact: this cat can almost breathe fire.
Okay, it's mainly just sparks, but I'm sure they're trying as hard as they can
Greenish-yellow things are scars
Prettying up: sure. Extras: yeah, why not ---- Ending July 31st
I remember when there was a buttload of dragon hype.
Fun fact: this cat can almost breathe fire.
Okay, it's mainly just sparks, but I'm sure they're trying as hard as they can
Greenish-yellow things are scars
Prettying up: sure. Extras: yeah, why not ---- Ending July 31st
M00N wrote:Username: M00N
Name: Platt - "Level Ground"
Gender: Female
Personality/Partial bio:
Platt is the embodiment of all of your crushed aspirations, all the "dream jobs" you had before your age reached double-digits that were never realized, the crushes who let you down easily. She has always striven for excellence, but unfailingly has always had to settle for less, no matter her protests. When she was young, she was praised for her beautiful wings and her skill in using them as she grew older. They set her apart from the rest of the crowd, they gave her happiness, but sometimes sticking out like a sore thumb isn't preferable, especially to a cat like her. Platt never needed to rely on anyone's encouragement, and if often enough compliments only made her feel self-conscious and paranoid that they had been said insincerely, as a way to slyly insult her. Of course, this didn't happen to her anymore than the rest of us, but try telling her that. All she ever needed was herself, after all, who knew her body and mind better than herself?
Her young life was far from happy, but also far from sad. The days wasted away under her care, as she was never really asked to do anything by anyone. Her original friends learned quickly of her self-dependent attitude and how she expected her peers to be similarly independent, then growing apart from her over the years, finding her "too uptight" and often just plain rude at times. With little regret she let them slip away, after all, who could be a better friend than herself, anyway.
As Platt grew older, she continued to lead a secluded life, avoiding confrontation at all times and only speaking when spoken to, and even then only giving a nod or a shake of her head in response. Flying continued to be a passion of hers, and obsessively so. It became the only real activity that made her feel whole, like she had purpose, a reason to love herself, and she did so. Platt loved to praise herself for her skills, oh how she could make hairpin turns and reach speeds that she was certain no other winged creature could. Those who continued to stick around her noticed that after flying it was possible to get her to actually truly smile. At other times she was mainly seen as bland, without much personality besides her continuing passion of refusing help.
Although it may not have been an envied lifestyle, to Platt, spending weeks at a time sleeping in and flying around the field and the nearby thicket of trees was like being on cloud nine. She never thought about what she would do when she'd have to get out of her parent's place so she could really live in the field, as no one really ever told her to. Or... maybe they did, she just never though that it was necessary to prepare herself in any way for adulthood. The present was really all that was important, and since there were good things in the present, why would there be any cause to look ahead?
The loss:
She had never bothered to venture beyond the field, but she was aware of the sheer cliff where the terrain abruptly switched from grassland to marsh with just a 50 foot elevation difference. It simply didn't interest her greatly, "Oh whoop-de-do, a stinky swamp," was her only thought towards the place for most of her life, until one day she was bitten by the curiosity bug.
Instead of making her usual turn to brush by the last tree before the drop, she decided to keep going straight, a glint of determination and rebellion in all three of her eyes. She was surprised by the force pulling her down once she crossed the division, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle, and she planned to descend anyway. With that thought, she loped casually downward, preparing to land. Her paws touched the soggy ground for only a second before she picked them up again with a scowl. "Gross old place," she thought, deciding to hover. She flew towards the beginning of the creek that was naturally draining the marsh. She touched down on a rock that reached above water in the middle of the stream to get a look around, petite enough to balance on it, despite its slimness. Quickly bored, she took flight again, returning to her usual haunt without event, not intending to make a return.
The next week she found herself drawn to the cliff's edge again. Without fear, she sat at the very edge, squinting to observe the landscape, trying to assess if anything had changed since the last time she had visited. She found little of interest below, but she took note of something she had not noticed previously on the side of the cliff itself, a golden eagle's nest with two obnoxiously loud babies. Intrigued, she flew towards the nest, fueled by curiosity and the instinct of a predator. Sure enough, the two eaglets were as helpless as they were clueless. A sickening grin crossed her face as she glanced around. No parents in sight, she could easily swoop in and snatch one up for her own use. It wasn't like she hadn't killed other small animals to eat, the eaglets couldn't be much different.
Taking one last look around to ensure momma eagle wasn't watching, she adjusted her speed and trajectory to collide perfectly with the nest's edge, and once she had done so, she leaned in to snatch the larger baby by its neck and flew off with it towards the top of the cliff again. She would have been back for the other eaglet the next day had she made it, but only a few seconds from reaching the friendly field, a bird roughly half her size attacked her. It scratched at her and eventually, with terror and astonishment in her eyes at its strength, she dropped the chick to try to divert the parent. The bird didn't seem to care particularly much, it wasn't stupid, it knew that the chick was dead even before it intercepted the murderer. Continuing it's attack, the eagle prevented Platt from any opportunity to even escape, pinning her against the cliff and biting at her ears. She couldn't fight back, the bird was just too fast, the only hit she could get in was a blow at it's wing, but it didn't seem affected greatly. Boldly, it lunged for her eye, missing and scarring Platt's cheek for the rest of her life. With the pain of that hit, Platt plummeted, landing on the nest and taking it down with her.
She managed to flap her wings enough to keep her land from killing her, but not enough to let her get out without injury. First the nest crashed to the ground, then her left wing, then the rest of her body. The bird, more concerned with its other child, let her lay there completely helpless.
All she had worked for had just been crushed underneath her weight, she realized with more dread than sadness or fear. All she could feel was the emptiness and regret that you may feel when recalling one of your old failed "missions," that dream of being an astronaut dying the day you realized that it would never happen. Platt could only manage to stumble a few yards away from the ruined nest before she collapsed out of exhaustion, "the almighty forces" making her fall on her injured wing again purely for the sake of irony.
After five days of pseudo-recovery, Platt managed to climb up the cliff face using her relatively uninjured right wing and every leg except for her front left. Upon returning, all of her friends and her parents said that they didn't go looking for her as thought she had decided to stay in the field without telling them as she often did...
Do they like having wings/flying?:
Platt would love to say that she could still enjoy drifting along, high in the skies, and that she had since made a full recovery, but she can't anymore. The time she spent with her wing dislocated and the injury to the muscle of her front left leg left her with permanent stiffness in both her leg and wing. Because of her injuries, flying is nearly impossible for her without painkillers due to the stress on her injured joint, and even with medication, her flight is clumsy and sometimes uncontrollable. Because of this, flight which used to be freeing and enjoyable now only fills her with dread and a feeling of sickness. Her wings are only a burden, an aching reminder of what she used to be, what she could have continued to be if it hadn't been for that one ill-advised choice.
She has decided (not that she had much of a choice) to stick to life on the ground.
