Astrid. Nanny

[astrid]

` ASTRID !



[style=text-align:center;]'and the last daughter greeted death like an old friend.'

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the generals

NAME astrid
AGE one year
GENDER female
RANK nanny
PATRON GOD Vulcanrin
SHIFT RARITY Rare
SHIFT FORM Wolf
PICTURE(S) feline. canine.

the personals

[style=text-transform:uppercase;]APPEARANCE

One's first impression of Astrid is that she appears more muscles then fur. But it is in fact the opposite. She is a very lean and mean fighting machine with fur that is long and silky to the touch. Her eyes are jade gems, and her claws are unusually long. Now for a deeper look.

Built to be a normal height for a she-cat, do not take lightly, behind that furry appearance is the heart of a warrior goddess! Any who, Astrid is made to fight and hunt, her body is designed for that and it's clearly seen and proven when she walks. Her head is held unusually high for a female feline, but other then that she is every bit able to bare kits. In fact she just might be the only she-cat left in her lineage that can produce mass amounts of kits. But don't get her started on that. As her built goes, her paws are normal size and the bones that are her claws are unusually long and very, very sharp. She has a habit of licking her claws when angry, or when she can not express her anger in front of a large group. Her pelt is long, calico and very soft. When a human touches it, it will appear as if the pelt is silk, but when a cat presses up against her, it feels like a soft cloud. However she usually coats her pelt in a thin layer of dirt at times to appear unattractive. Her eyes are a brilliant jade colour and shine brightly in the moonlight and even brighter in the sun. But Astrid prefers the night, as to her - it seems like the only time of day that she can truly be with her patron god.

When shifting into her rare shift, the black patches on her pelt sprout to completely cover her body and her body morphs into a much larger creature in record time. When in her wolf form, she likes to be called 'canine' since she changes from her known species of feline to canine, and it gives her a fun experience. Astrid's eyes in her wolf form are a brilliant shade of green indicating that it is her in wolf form.

(please assume that the wolf's eyes are green until I can edit them.)

PERSONALITY

rude. blunt. sarcastic. liar. actress. cruel. tricky. hot-headed.
Many are curious as to how so many she-cats can uphold the laws of the tribe - even pretend, and yet they who silently protest are protesters none the less. While toms work and play and enjoy their time, the females are hard at work batching litter after litter, in a sense harming them. The more litters a she-cat bares, the more harm it causes to them, in a way breaks the laws of the gods and goddesses, no? All witness Astrid, a lovely she-cat with a heart of fixed love and pride for her tribe. Astrid in a one word can be described as a brilliant actress, able to uphold a smile and positive appearance in front of almost every cat, until she is alone where all her hatred is exposed onto her face. Astrid you see is a she-cat born into the wrong era of the tribe. Blunt to the point that she can honestly be called rude, she is a she-cat with little obedience and all around sarcastic attitude. She loves to play with the heads of many toms, but prays to her pardon god for some help. She pleads in both normal peaceful ways and in curses that she sends to the hells for no help in return. An accident she was when she crossed paths with her patron god, cursing him as a kit when he tried to walk from her dream land, and he marked her - but he had rarely talked to her since. A liar to the edge of her realm and beyond the gods' realm, she has been known to have a very hot-headed temper and a very tricky kitty. She has been known to toy with the prey-shifters, forcing the younger ones to turn into shift of mice and dangle them from their tails. She fines great joy in death and watches with a bemused smile during the winter when the tribe turns on their prey shifter tribe-mates and even lets out a bemused laughter when she sees the others watching - waiting in line as they know they are next. Astrid here, is quite the welcome party, usually greeting the fathers of kits with sneers and hisses and allowing them in right away - all expect the higher ups, who she uses her acting charm on, smiles and politely bows. However, with the knowledge behind her patron god secretly tucked within her mind, she keeps an eye on the leader of the tribe - since the rumours are he have the same patron god as she herself. Having just come into the 'nanny' job, one would suspect Astrid to fall into line and get over her rebellious little ways (refusing to play with the kits, ignoring the older nannies when they explained the perfect way to clean a kit's pelt.) but she has yet to give a care. When single males approach her she directs them to wards another she-cat who is single and pads away with a ugly sneer upon her face. It is nearly every time a male has ventured into the nanny's area, that she snaps at them if they so much as talk to her. She would rather greet Vulcanrin dying because of what she believes in, than to greet him a coward, obedient she-cat who's death was because of baring to many kits.

HISTORY

I can't believe the thoughts of these felines, these monstrous cats that worship gods who favour a sex over another. Who wrote laws of never harming a she-cat, but forcing her to breed until the litters themselves kill her. It is disturbing, gross and horrible... but I am getting ahead of myself, let me start with the beginning.

I was told stories of my mother from my father. Rook was her name and she was an all black she-cat known for her sarcastic responses, but good nature humour. Rook like my father, was older and I along with my older brothers only heard of how she died birthing me. I would never know my mother, but the rest of my litter mates would, they would see my mother's eyes, hear my mother's voice and learn the soft side of the she-cat who birthed only three live kittens. My father, his name was Creek and he was a heavy believer in she-cat rights. He stood by Valentine and it was when the leader died, that Creek shut him mouth - casting his glaze to the skies and cursing them silently. When Rook passed, leaving him with me, his only daughter, it was when he started to whisper words of a different world - of freedom between all the sexes, of a world where a she-cat could hunt and fight and go out into the territory by herself.

My eldest brother came first. He had chimera disorder. He bore small fox ears upon his head and his tail was that of a red fox, the muzzle was the most noted, and I will admit, my brother was adorable. He however, was power hungry and also four years old when I was born. But that is beside the point, he was a common shifter, loyal only to his patron god Vulcanrin and that was my brother's down fall. Thinking only way to getting to the top was power, gaining power using power and disagreeing with the elders. You see, my older brother was cursed into a human not long after I was born. I am only slightly glad that I never met him - and his name is never mentioned to me, but he died not long ago. He died in his quest for power - in feline and in human life.

The second of my brothers came after a batch of stillborns. He was born with a prey shift. A chipmunk he was, and when after a year he was sent to the prey section of the camp, he fell in love with a petite she-cat who was a mouse shift. My brother was head over heels in love with this she-cat, and I got to meet him before his death. He taught me of the wrongs, of the rights and how love would always shine through. He told me stories of our oldest brother and of many things - how our mother had the sweetest voice, how she could light up his world - and it pained him that he had become a prey shifter and not any other kind. I remember his hiss as he shifted into a chipmunk and distracted the other cats while his love ran for her lip fleeing into the freedom that was beyond the camp. My brother died for his love - who I have yet to see return.

I was born last, and I am the sole reason why my mother died - or so the other nannies whispered one day. I am the perfect image of my grandmother - a once famous she-cat for having many litters of kits, and birthing less females then any other she-cat. I of course was nothing like any of the females on my mother's side - expect maybe for some traits from my mother. She had been the only she-cat in her whole family to hate on the males only work rules.

I remember when I found my patron god. The great underworld god, Vulcanrin! I remember it like it was a gift given to me. I cursed and spat my at my self as a little kit, praying to him to show himself, to not over look me - but I have yet to see him. Even at a young age I was loyal to my patron god, holding him in high heights. I prayed to him nightly, asking for an escape from this sexist society, but no answer reached my ears. So I schemed, I planned and I got ready for my big escape from this torture wagon. Of course, being only four months old at the time it was a long shot.

But that was the day my brother - the prey-shifter I told you about - he first spoke to me and told me wondrous stories of my eldest brother, and my heart filled with passion and an eager note. I prayed to Vulcanrin to help my brother, and yet my brother left me two months later, and I watched him die for the love of his life and I respected him for that - but my body harden, and I spat at any cat. To consume cats for the sole reason that the clan was starving disguised me and once more I felt the need to flee, but somewhere very low in my stomach I felt a stubborn tug and I stayed.

I was old enough to finally begin my 'nanny' training - which by the way was stupid and really, who in their right mine wants to bare THAT many litters! I was scared for life just watching the first she-cat bare one litter. I prayed again for help - and that was when I realized, that to pray for the underworld god to help me, my heart should lie with them, and I brushed the other gods off - my hatred to wards them not hearing my prays as well being the perfect excuse and I set forth to worship Vulcanrin.

I would greet him as an old friend when I met him at the gateways to heaven or hell and I would allow him to choose where I lay and then and only then would I follow him into the darkness of the underworld. I was not made for heaven and I would prove it. I would follow in the steps of Valentine and his supports - but silently at first. So I set my plan into motion on that eighth month of my life. I hissed and sneered at the toms, and pulled on an actress role when the elders were involved, better to appear as the 'trickster's' patron child then that of the underworld's. I knew he was a bad omen, while a god of the dead and the 'presumed bad dead' it was always a wonder why he was shunned.

From the descriptions he sounded like a brilliant god, and to me he had been treated unfair in the past, and with a snarl at any of the 'god of the gods' patrons, I would refuse to even talk to them, hissing and flashing my too long claws in their faces. But that was when they accused me of being a rebellious she-cat, who would be tamed by the time she aged to her full 'nanny hood'. I swore before the few cats that were worried, that I would react respectfully to those of higher ranking and I did... for a while.

The month before I turned one year, I shifted for the first time since my brother's death. My massive wolf form trotted towards the exit of the camp, and I was allowed out once I shifted back and was given an male to walk with. In the 'to dangerous for a fair maiden to wander alone' territory of ours, I shifted stealthy and knocked my escort to the side with a grin - and I shifted back into a feline and made sure the blasted cat was knocked out before I tried to hunt a small mouse and a few other creatures. When I returned to where I left my escort, I saw him awake and staring at me angrily. I happily followed him home, tossing him the only creature I had managed to catch - a vole - and I was proud.

He took credit, but he knew and I knew what I had done. With hisses and a few scratches, I laid into him what I would do should he speak a word and he silenced up. I had grown up with the tom-cat as a kit, and he was a bit of a pushover - always scared of the stories of the gods turning against him and turning him into a human. Lies I would tell him, but we had grown up together and here we were, lying together, but I tried to teach him of female equal rights, and he slowly seemed to see it my way. I remember the night before I turned a year old, me and my friend - escort - kit-friend? Stood below the moon and I whispered my last pray, and await my answer.

"I will follow your wishes should a sign be shown."


[[ooc: the escort, I may role-play him. He' be a common shifter, and well probably a bit of a scaredy cat teehee.]][/style]


functions preformed by SCRATCH
other characters are NONE

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