tGB: Florian (Inactive)

Name: Florian
Age: 3 Years Old - Born in Autumn
Gender: Tomcat ♂
Tribe: None
Profession: Loner
Tattoo: Grey-Shadow
Apprentice: ----
Breed: Moggie Mix
Appearance: Florian is a broad chested and stout tomcat, with a short tail and even shorter fur. He is at the peak of physical fitness for his age, powerful muscles rippling beneath a dark, striped pelt. His eyes are a yellow-green colour, a stark contrast to the rest of his appearance, and aside from a nick across the nose, he has no scars to speak of; a product of his resourcefulness and quick thinking in battle.

Partner & Soulbond _{(in every sense of the word aside from the technical definition)}: Eckhardt
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{A Bright New World}

Exiled. So many cats, in that war of generations ago, cast out of the only home they had ever known. Perhaps it would be fine for those who had seen anything else, but to the cats born and raised in the tribes, sheer independence was foreign and insane. For this reason, many exiled cats banded together and formed their own impromptu groups. Brought together by their similarities, thye ventured as far north as they could, hoping to find a home isolated from the tribes and safe from the wild unknown that they had found themselves thrust into.

For many weeks they followed the shore, from cliff sides to beaches, keeping the sea to their right and their destination at their front. The path was uneven, certainly never straight, but when it veered sharply towards the ocean then they took pause. Though the shoreline continued just several yards ahead, where the odd jut of land ended, they observed the slice of land that extended far out over the water; beyond, from their perspective, the horizon. Never had any cat seen anything like it, something that seemed to defy the laws of the sea. It was this long road that they set out on as the sun rose on the next dawn.

For hours they were flanked on both sides by water, and as the sight of their homeland fell behind them, they began to feel free. Sea birds wheeled overhead, many going the same direction as them. 

The band of exiles traveled all day and well into the night before deciding to call for rest. Still they saw no sign of land ahead of them, yet their spirits did not waver; ahead, they felt, they knew, was a home for them, far from the tribes-- someplace they could start anew. It was certainly fortunate that they felt this way.

When they exiled cats awoke the next morning, it was by the feeling of water lapping at their heels. Rising hastily, they found their way back blocked by none other than the ocean. All the way to the horizon, they could see nothing but water; no sign of the path they had taken to this point. As the water level began to rise, they continued forward; towards their new future. It took many days of traveling before they saw land again, and the relief was absolute; many of the cats had not come from Water Tribe, and were quickly becoming tired of fish for dinner-- and those who had come Water Tribe were tired, having been the primary suppliers for their group, hunting through the ocean. Each day had yielded weirder and weirder prey, two cats even bringing back a long snake-like creature that had a jaw like nothing the tribes had ever seen before. 

Finally reaching land, the group made camp on the beach, watching as the flood slowly caught up to them, the land path back to the tribelands vanishing beneath the water level. As the tide continued to come in, they finally set out into the unfamiliar forests, determined to find a place to call home.

{Welcome Home}

An odd formation of rocks became the den of a pair of Earth tribers that had left their home together. Several hours' travel away from that, a towering, hollowed-out tree was to be the home of an Air and Shadow couple that had begun to fancy each other over their travels. The two couples had never known each other back home, and likely would never meet in this new land. But for their kin, it would be a different story...

Slowly but surely, the massive groups began to disband, finding their own homes-- sometimes in pairs, sometimes in smaller clowders. Finally, every cat had found a home to call their own; a field, a ravine, a lakeside. The ex-tribe cats scattered themselves along this continent and made it their home.

Admittedly, it was far from easy to settle here. The native fauna was as exotic as it got for the foreign cats; everything was different, new, dangerous. Many of the cats, stripped of their primary defense-- their Spirit-blessed powers-- died in these new lands. They had no experience, no knowledge on how to survive here-- and many didn't. 

Yet many did. They adjusted to their new surroundings, leaving behind what they knew and learning what they needed to. They changed, became completely different from what they had been in the tribes. They adapted.

They bred. Some had been pregnant at their time of exile; others mated on the journey. When they settled into their new home, even more began to have kittens. And these kittens grew up in this new world, only knowing this the world their parents had come from through stories. The tribes and tribelands were something so very foreign to them, despite the way their own families conducted themselves in a similar, united manner; yet instead of border disputes, they shared what they could and looked out for one another. These young cats, the first generation of the other continent, were extremely impressionable thanks to these bedtime stories and tales of magic.

When it was their turn to leave home, many stuck together, having learned from their parents and their fellow exiles that it was best to stick together and protect each other. As the new generation grew up, their parents had done their best to teach them how to survive in this world. Out on their own, they took the world on headlong.

Many, having grown up without a specific society, set their own standards of living. Hunting, sharing, fighting, mating, shows of dominance; they took the scraps of their parents' culture and tried to form their own. Cats with the lightest gray tattoos were considered superior than those with black, likened to the Silvers of the tribes. When they mated, they raised their children until their sixth moon, then sent them off to face the world on their own; similar to the Ceremony of Light, yet twisted in a way, as the kittens were sent to the wild rather than their own tribe to be trained. Many young cats died because of the misguided views of their parents.

And those who survived, flourished.

{Conquering Titans}

It's almost like remembering a long forgotten dream when he tries to think of the family he once knew. His parents, his brother, his sister; all of their names are lost to him now, their faces a blur of indistinguishable features and colours. He has never been a sentimental cat, always moving forward, never looking back. But there are some memories that will never fade from his mind.

It was the night every young cat dreamed of. The night when each youngster would be claimed by their ancestors, to be given a mark of power, a symbol of honor and pride worn by all the cats that had come before them. His parents watched with excitement as the moon rose in the sky, eager to see what the night had in store. 

But their faces fell as the minutes wore on. Neither his brother or his sister had received a mark, and at first, Florian thought that perhaps their entire litter had been cursed. But with a crow of delight, his father gestured to his own tattoo, a swirling grin that sat atop his real smile. Florian assumed that a similar mark had found a place on his face, and he blinked, wondering if it looked the same.

They waited until the sun began to crest the horizon, in a fruitless hope that perhaps their ancestors were taking their time. But as the first bright rays of the sun began to colour the land, their parents conceded defeat - only of of their kittens was worthy of independence. In a strange turn against tradition, his parents forbade his siblings to journey out just yet. And so, it was only Florian who left the den that day, to begin a new life away from the only cats he'd ever known. For some, it might've been a difficult step. But the dark colored tom welcomed the change, and as the distance between himself and the ones he'd left behind grew, so did the confidence in his heart.

He taught himself the ways of the wild, abandoning the lessons and stories that had been passed down to him. Stories would not feed him, and the tricks his parents had taught him only got him so far in this strange new land. He adapted to his surroundings, observing the fauna and discovering the land in a way his parents and grandparents never had. Florian wasted no time on sentiment, and learned only what was required to survive. He sharpened his senses and honed his skills, powerful muscles growing beneath a slick pelt, muscles that could carry him across the land like a streak of light, away from the creatures that would do him harm, of which there were many. Through this odd yet effective method, Florian thrived and grew into a capable and content young tom.

{Metamorphosis}

He was never one for settling in one place for very long. He came and went as he pleased, encountering many a cat in the process. Sometimes, he would spend a few days travelling with others, sharing stories and the like. But all to soon, that familiar desire for distance would push him away from his would-be companions. Florian had never considered staying with another cat for a lengthy period of time - he'd done fine on his own before, and there was no reason to change.

Then, he met him.

It was during a familiar trek through a vibrant forest that the stranger appeared to him. At first, he didn't seem like anything special - certainly no different from any other cat he'd come across. Eckhardt, as the tom was apparently called, welcomed him to the territory and though Florian had only intended to stay a few days, two weeks passed before he realized that the oh so familiar desire for space had not come. Eckhardt intrigued him, had captured his attention like no other cat had done before.

They talked. They hunted. They lived together for a long while, so long until the idea of being apart was more peculiar than the idea of always being together. They became friends, then best friends, and then something likened to what tribe cats would consider soulbonds. With no concept of such a thing, they simply considered each other best friends-- brothers, at time, in arms. In arms against everything that would challenge them.

And in this world, oh, there were plenty of things that would do that.

Their synchronicity, the way they understood each other, made them adept at learning to combat these enemies. It didn't take long before they became the most formidable pair when it came to surviving and hunting. 

{Destiny Calling}

Their life was good-- they held no true fears, they felt content, and confrontation was far from their minds.

Over time, they uprooted themselves and began to wander. Their paws took them all over the continent, meeting groups of and solo cats, and encountering new beasts to pit themselves against-- or flee from. It was these adventures that had them so well-versed in the fauna of their home. 

Yet rumours spread deep inland, reaching even them; passerbys began to murmur about the temperature, about how the season was not changing. They paid this little mind, continuing their trek towards the sea. Both of them had seen the ocean before, but never together-- and besides, they wanted to spend some time on the beach. It was when they arrived that they spent several days relaxing-- and watched as the Land Bridge openened before them.

They knew of it-- knew that it resurfaced every year for a few days. They had even seen it, albeit at different times in their lives. 

But it didn't submerge again. The longer they watched, the more they were sure; this was a sign. For them, for the other cats that were watching the anomaly. Or perhaps just for them, because they agreed-- they would return to the lands of their ancestors.

Striking out across the Land Bridge, Eckhardt and Florian spent days surrounded by the sea. Yet they were never frightened, or worried, and they never doubted themselves. If this was destiny, then so be it-- and if it wasn't, then they could find a whole new adventure all on their own. 

When finally they arrived on the other continent-- stomachs full (and sick) of fish-- they encountered a band of cats that had been watching the Land Bridge for several days. They spoke of the tribes far to the South, cats that had tattoos just like all of them did, except vibrant in colour and used as channels to access powerful abilities. When asked about their home, Eckhardt and Florian described the continent they came from, the plants and animals, and the cats without tattoos. To the exiles, it sounded like a second chance, and they went the way Florian and Eckhardt had come from.

Agreeing together, the brothers started South, seeking the tribes.

Peculiar | Aloof | Non-confrontational | Placid | Neutral |  Confident  

It cannot be denied that Florian is an odd sort of fellow. He has an unusual air about him to be sure - one might find themselves a tad uncomfortable while under his scrutiny- though he is not altogether unpleasant. He is… Distant, however. An observant tom with a calculating stare and an ever flowing river of thought coursing through his mind, he is at a first glance, very cool and collected. He is not necessarily friendly but he is always courteous to others, believing that a well placed compliment and general politeness can be the difference between respect and dislike, though sometimes, he can be incredibly blunt without meaning to be. For the most part, he tries to stay away from other cats unless his presence is sorely required. Through the course of their partnership, it's become clear that Eckhardt is the more 'sociable' of the two - certainly the one strangers would prefer conversing with. On the best of days though, the two would rather be left to their own devices.

Much like his cohort, Florian doesn't treat any cat in a special way (aside from said cohort himself). In his eyes, everyone is equal until they have proved to be more or less so in his eyes. And as no cat aside from Eckhardt has spent enough time with him for Florian to properly gauge them, this point of view has turned into a very unbiased way of thinking and acting. 

Tattoos are of no importance to him; every cat is an individual, and no marking on their body sets them apart in his eyes. This may prove to be a problem in the future, but for now Florian is happy to spend his days in the neutral lands with Eckhardt, lazing about in the sun, grooming, or fondly reprimanding his friend when he climbs too high above the ground.

This fond and laid-back behaviour often masks a distinct truth - they are the perfect team. At the drop of a pin, they can be ready for anything; facing off against a predator, assisting another cat in distress, or getting themselves out of a sticky situation. Their confidence in each other shows on and off the battlefield, and it's rare for them to disagree on anything, or come to different conclusions when faced with a difficult situation (though Florian had been known to take the lead in these rare cases). The two are aware that their relationship is an unorthodox one, and while neither tom would ever boast of their bond or the abilities they share, neither would they stand by and allow their companionship and skills to be trivialized.

Altogether, Florian is very unpredictable around strangers - one minute cooly charming, the next deathly silent. And it's clear that the only time one could ever expect a constant in his personality and behaviour would be when he is with Eckhardt; it's almost as if the Spirits played a joke on the two toms, separating them at birth when they were always meant to be one cohesive unit, one soul in two bodies. There's never a misunderstanding between them, and some cats have wondered if maybe they've transcended the tribal restrictions on soulbonding and accessed the Water Tribe's soulbond skill of telepathy. (They haven't.)

heart chart here

• As of right now, Florian has no interest in joining his respective Tribe. He is, however, curious to see the associated powers in use. If he ever were to try out Tribal life, finally having access to his Spirit-given abilities would be a big factor.
• Florian speaks for both himself and Eckhardt when he speaks of how odd this new land is, compared to their home across the sea. The local fauna baffle them both for unknown reasons.

Note: Open
Chat: Ask
Skype: Open - zaabu.rp
Example
_{((From a tGO RP with KalCity's Leif))}
Looking down at him fondly, Bragi returned Leif's watery smile with one of his own, his good eye ringed red and still glistening from the tears he'd shed. "I am glad," He rumbled, the sincerity in his voice ringing clear as a bell as his small companion reached up to wipe away the tears that clung to the end of his whiskers. "I will also be alright, given time. These past few months have been a dark time for Gweillan..." he sounded drained, as was evident in his posture, but his eyes were bright, brighter than they'd been in a long time. "Yet seeing an old friend return safe and sound has lifted my heart and given me new hope."

Rolling his broad shoulders, Bragi let out a weak chuckle at Leif's words, nodding and smiling tiredly. "Aye, I would not say no to a cup of wine and some pleasant company." Gesturing towards the table, he continued. "Please, have a seat." While Leif situated himself, Bragi disappeared behind a wall near the back of the cabin, reappearing moments later with a dusty bottle gripped in one paw and two glasses in the other.

He placed the wine and glasses on the table and moved to take a seat, still smiling. His paw drifted across his face unconsciously, a nervous tick that had taken hold since his confrontation with Haven, and with a start, Bragi realized that his bandages were still wet with tears. Muttering an apology, the large tom stood up from his chair, crossing the small room quickly and crouching low to dig through a small chest that sat beneath the wooden stairs that led to the upper level of the cabin. Bragi retrieved a fresh roll of gauze and a jar of poultice from the small box, standing back up and moving to place the objects on the table before turning away from Leif to face the mirror on the wall. Secretly wishing he were alone to do this and reminding himself to move the mirror somewhere less conspicuous, Bragi lifted his paws to the back of his head, and carefully began to unwind the wet bandages that covered his face. Slowly but surely, his grievous injuries were revealed, and he winced slightly as the fresh air touched the still tender skin, pointedly looking off to the side of the mirror. He disposed of the old gauze quickly, the comfortable silence in the room suddenly deafening. In an attempt to lighten the mood, Bragi glanced over his left shoulder and smiled, the scarred side of his face turned towards the wall. "You are quite welcome to help yourself," he said amiably, trying to hide his unease and swallow back the shame and discomfort that had suddenly taken hold. If he was honest with himself, Bragi almost wished his face would never heal, so that he would have an excuse to keep the bandages covering his scarred visage.