Wendigo

[Wendigo]

USERNAME: wendigo
OOC NAME: The X-Ray Dog (X or X-Ray for short)
OTHER ACCOUNTS: None

CHARACTER NAME: Wendigo
NICKNAMES: None that he answers to
AGE: 4 years
GENDER: Male
AFFILIATION: Stray/Loner

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APPEARANCE: Though a stunning example of the feline persuasion, Wendigo stands out in a crowd in an unexpected way. His coloration is very ordinary- silvery gray base coat with a spattering of clustered black tabby markings that are unusually focused near his legs, neck and tail. But though not the usual Mackerel or Classic tabby arrangement of stripes, Ticked tabbies are not particularly unheard of. Though the black stripes on the lightly dusted silvery sheened coat are high contrasting and striking, they are not out of the ordinary, a stereotypical example of a silver ticked tabby cat. What makes Wendigo unusual is his build. Tall and leggy, he is a large cat even for a tom and has a long oval shaped head with an almost dog-like muzzle, a large forehead topped with huge triangular ears, and a bright intelligent expression. His body is lean and slender, slight even for a cat, and is the opposite of the expected cobby, stout-legged build and design of most toms. He is often mistaken for a siamese due to this distinctly oriental design, his high cheekbones and his large almond shaped blue-green eyes, but Wendigo has no specific breed to his name. He is simply an oriental shorthaired cat.


DEFINING TRAIT: Crafty
TRAITS: Clever, Quick-Witted, Playful, Entertaining, Talkative, Manipulative, Egocentric, Unforgiving, Traitorous, Hateful
LIKES: Being the center of attention, compliments, hunting, showing off, time to himself, freedom, food of any sort
DISLIKES: Humans, being ignored or blown off, being belittled, weakness/vulnerability, the feeling of hunger/being hungry for any amount of time, heights
FEARS: Falling, moving vehicles
STRENGTHS: Incredibly intelligent, good sense of humor, easy to get along with, incredibly agile, large size
WEAKNESSES: Holds grudges and is very unforgiving toward mistakes and wrong doings, easily distracted by his emotions, not as physically powerful as more cobby-built cats, has difficulty squeezing into small spaces
OVERVIEW: At first glance, Wendigo is not all that unusual a cat. Though of striking color and odd build, upon initial inspection, he appears very ordinary- well-spoken with a sophisticated vocabulary that he uses liberally, but otherwise well mannered and pleasant. He has an entertainingly sarcastic sense of humor, which he is not shy at all about sharing with others and is known for his ability to keep the mood in a conversation light and airy with his sharp wit and clever quips. He is not above making fun of others for a good laugh, which can put him at odds with more sensitive cats, but at the end, it's all in good fun. Isn't it?

Though Wendigo puts on a handsome face for the cameras, internally, he is a dark and questionable soul. Fueled by his memories of graphic death and of hunger, he quests for one thing- the meat of other cats. And he'll do almost anything to get it. More tactful than he is brazen, his plans tend to be more underhanded, sneaky and quiet, all back doors and shadows rather than bold charges and loud battle cries. He is a tom made for subterfuge, crafty and subversive with an eye for detail and an obsession with having things his way. He is not the kind of cat to take kindly to denial and holds his grudges very close to his heart. What Wendigo wants, Wendigo will have, one way or another.

And what Wendigo generally wants is food.

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HISTORY: Wendigo's life started in a crowded house on an empty street. It was nothing particularly special- it wasn't particularly large or spacious, maybe it would've been if it hadn't been literally stuffed to the gills with junk, but Wendigo will never know what could have been. All he knows was that his human, an aging woman who was always home but was hardly ever seen, was what the two-legs call a 'hoarder'. Her house was piled so full of junk- newspaper, furniture that couldn't be used, pots and pans, boxes upon boxes, that it was often impossible to even find her in the mess, or the some sixty cats that shared the space with her, and sixty is only a rough estimate. It's impossible to know, even having lived in it, how many cats ducked and darted in and out of the crevices of the aging home. The walls were rotten, holes were dug, the rafters were open and duct work hung freely. It was a jungle gym of space for the cats, enough room for them to live apart from each other, to form groups, to have families. It was in this that Wendigo was born.

His family unit held a bit of a reputation in the cat community of the house. His father was a large substantial animal with power in droves. His mother was lithe and quick-witted, incredibly clever and incredibly unforgiving toward trespassers and those that dared to endanger her children. Their spot in the rafters was high above the chaotic hoard below, safely out of reach of most cats that dared to challenge them. Other than falling to the cold hardwood below, Wendigo grew up thinking that he and his family were an invincible force to be reckoned with, silent rulers of the world below. Cats looked up to them in wonder and awe of their perfect hiding place, and they came down only for the big piles of food the human would dump on the floor, which his father guarded religiously. They were never tested, never bothered. Like a prince in a lofty castle, Wendigo grew high and far above the others, above everyone. His mother had several litters, of which he considered himself to be the most handsome and the most talented. He had it better literally than everyone.

Until one day, their human- the foolish creature, turned the kitchen fire on and never returned for it. Why she'd do such a thing in a house so full of flammable substances, Wendigo continues to wonder. But whatever her reason, she doomed them all- the fire spread so quickly, it trapped most of the animals within. Piles of junk fell over and crushed cats as they ran, others burned alive or choked on the black smoke that rose into the rafters. Having very rarely left his roost his entire life, Wendigo found himself one of those trapped and clueless cats, desperate for a way out but unable to find one pass the junk and the turmoil. His pelt turned black with soot, his eyes watered to the point of being useless, his lungs begged for air and the fire licked at his paws with every step. He should have died.

But he didn't. Ever the clever one, he found a bath full of water and waited the fire out. By the time it had subsided, a house full of animals had been reduced to a smoldering wreckage inhabited by him and only him. No humans ever came for him, no cats ever crawled free to congratulate his luck. It was just him and the dead.

With nothing else to do and still no exit in sight (arguably the lack of fire made it more difficult to find a way out, the walls blackened by soot, the lights extinguished, it was impossible to navigate the melted piles and the bodies of the dead), Wendigo stayed in the burnt shell of that place for far longer than he'd ever want to, surrounded by the anguished faces of friends, of family, staring up at him unblinking, unmoving, blackened and hollowed out, just like the house around them. They taunted him as he searched frantically for a way out, as hunger gnawed at him and the prospect of starving to death grew ever nearer. They chanted and jeered at him, even the hollowed faces of his parents, they growled through open mouths, called him stupid and foolish, how could you have stayed in the rafters you fool, now you will die here with the rest of us, a failure, an idiot, a simpleton.

He needed to silence them.

Wendigo doesn't remember much of what lead him to start feasting on the charred corpses of his loved ones, of his subjects, of even cats that he despised. He doesn't remember making the conscious decision, but the hunger was loud, their voices were loud. They had to be silenced and he... well, he was starving. Their meat was tender, their voices, they screamed and yowled in vengeful pain as he devoured them. More satisfying than the fattest rat, more delectable than the most tender fish, they were almost made better by the fire, cooked to perfection. In the middle of his feast, Wendigo had found a way out- peeling one of the charred corpses from a wall had brought the wall down with it, but the tomcat didn't leave, not when he had so much left to enjoy. He ate his fill, relished it, grew fat from it, before finally picking the bones clean and moving on his way. He'd have to find another place, another massacre to sate his hunger further.

Since the house fire, Wendigo has not yet eaten another cat. It turns out they are difficult to kill and more difficult to eat- passers by don't usually allow it. But, ever interested in trying, he searches the city for more, a large group perhaps, one that he can infiltrate, gain the trust of, then trap, watch them starve- or better yet burn if he can find a way (the meat is so much more delightful cooked). And then the feast. Always the feast.

He will have his feast again.


MOTHER: Paige
FATHER: Cyrano
SIBLINGS: Champ (brother), Chessie (sister), Jersey (brother), Keela (sister), Lusca (sister), Nandi (sister) Shunka (sister), Tessa (sister), Trunko (brother), Waheela (sister) - plus many more, he had many many siblings, and he's not sure which, if any, made it out of the fire alive
BEST FRIEND: N/A
FRIENDS: N/A
CRUSH/MATE: N/A
ENEMIES: N/A


Notes: I imagine that he sounds a lot like Hugo Weaving.