TGB: Vokor

Basics

Name: Vokor

Kit Name: ???

Gender: Male

Age: Three and a half years

Stats

Breed: Turkish Van/Snowshoe Mix

Accessories: N/a

Tribe Tattoo: Green-Shadow

Profession: Warrior

Soulbound: N/a

Apprentice: N/a
Skills:

Is This A Name? | Seeing The Soul | Control Through The Name 1 | Understaning Of Emotions | Control Through The Name 2 | Meditation | Control Through The Name 3 | Lie To Me | Mood Chant | Communication | Nightmares | In Your Head

Personal

Personality:

{Deceptively Cordial | Calculating | Observant | Sociopathic | Easily Impressed}

{Deceptively Cordial} As far as impressions go, Vokor seems almost like a gentleman. Faint smiles he never seems inclined to hide, polite curiosity, refined manners-- one might even mistake him as friendly. Such a casual regard to social engagement might imply that he's interested or invested in another cat or a conversation, and although he's capable of being intrigued by others, it will rarely cross any threshold into affected. Because of these appearances, it can be a little surprising when his ruthless nature is revealed. Vokor doesn't sugar coat things, choosing to be forward and, some may say, harsh. Indeed, he seems to cross the line from blunt to cruel, either not caring about how his words will be received or not realizing his caustic tendencies. Really and truly, though-- it's the former. That doesn't mean he won't play innocent and plead the latter, however.

{Calculating} You'll never hear an impulsive thing come from his mouth. Vokor rarely says anything before running it through his mind several times, and while this may seem like a tedious task for things as simple as questions or replies, it isn't even a noticable system; Vokor has been doing it his entire life, and as such he's capable of thinking rather quickly. Because of this defense mechanism, at the end of the day, many cats might realize belatedly how little they truly know about him. His responses seem sufficient enough at the time, and with his subtle talent at steering conversations, it can take a while for anyone to realize that they'd been curbed.

{Observant} Noticing the smallest of things, being able to deduce his way to prodigious and alarmingly accurate assumptions, and remembering things with acute attention to detail; no matter how you see it, Vokor is amazingly observant. Because of this, it's easy for him to read others, predicting them with some unnerving precision. Unfortunately, due to this gift, it's easy for him to find a person's flaws and weaknesses and use them against whoever he wishes to. Although he may make some rattling deductions, however, he isn't always capable of spinning them in his favor; no matter  how predictable a cat may be, they will always have one advantage over him-- emotion. Emotions can make someone do things neither they nor anyone else could've thought them capable of, and no matter how well Vokor can read them, emotions will always baffle him and lead to inaccurate assumptions. This is one of the few things that infuriates him.

{Sociopathic} An inherent lack of empathy. Vokor is incapable of feeling or relating to the emotions or morals of others. Furthermore, he has no desire to; others may think what they like, and act as they will, but he will never care to understand them. With this comes a universal selfishness; Vokor's first priority will always be himself. How this comes about in his decisions and actions is a mystery, but it will always make sense in his mind. When a person's mental and emotional state are completely aberrant, what they'll do becomes unpredictable, because it will become impossible to determine why it is they do things. While the emotions of others will make them forever a capricious mystery to Vokor, he will remain the exact same to those who do not understand his lack of them.

{Easily Impressed} Oddly enough, it doesn't take much for someone to wow him. Ever since coming to the tribes, Vokor's been amazed by the different abilities. Any show of skill will likely entertain him, and he won't hesitate to say so; compliments and praise are readily handed out whenever he's witness to something spectacular. Even besides the elements, though, the various talents and thoughts of cats has always fascinated Vokor. There's a certain pleasure that he finds in listening to cats talk about their ideas, an indulgence in watching others perform great feats.
 

Trivia

Voice Actor:

Theme(s): I Don't Think About You Anymore But, I Don't Think About You Anyless by Hungry Ghosts

Favorites:

Tribe Ability: Water Walking

Food: Robin

Colour: Orange

Facts:

-Vokor preferred his tattoo with its gray colour.

-Because of Arcis, he'll occasionally give the name "Badger" whenever someone asks what to call him.

-The only cat who knew his real name was the late Silver-Shadow, Tylluan. With his death, now no one knows Vokor's true name.

-When he gives someone his "real" name, he tells them it's Voe.

History:

{Prologue}

A warrior and a guard, exiled for having faith in their false deity. The couple made their way far, far north, through the lands that the other exiles settled in, and further still. Only when the snow settled for far longer than they could survive with did they turn back and find a place that spring had finally arrived. Here, they found a den within a pair of rocks leaning against each other, digging into the ground until they had made a burrow. With contentment in their isolation, they settled into their new home.

It was spring when the warrior gave birth. A full, healthy litter. Filled with pride, the couple cared for their kittens better than anyone would have expected; cats who grew up with so many others to depend on, suddenly left to fend for themselves and this new family. Yet they handled themselves exceptionally well, and before long, the kittens were stumbling around the den, yearning to see the open sky through more than just a peek between the rocks.

Not even a month old, and the scent of a fox drawing near had the litter's mother pacing anxiously outside the den. Instincts told her it would come, and the kittens were too young to move. Despite her mate's concern, she knew she would have to chase it off. Soothing him, assuring him that any fox desperate enough to face off against an area with such strong scent markers would be easy to scare off, she left the den to take the fight away from their nest.

That night, with his concerns rising, the guard took her place and began pacing outside. The kittens huddled together, climbing over each other and wishing one of their parents would come in and play with them. Relief flooded the guard's mind as his mate emerged from the bush, sporting only a single wound along her flank. It was treated easily, and they returned to their kittens, who welcomed them both home enthusiastically.


{Born}

Several weeks later, the kittens would wake to a horrendous racket. Their little hearts began racing as they backed up to the rear of their den, eyes wide. Outside, their mother fought valiantly against the same fox. Desperation had driven it to starving madness and it refused to be chased off. At his mate's order, the guard remained braced at the entrance of their den, protecting the only way to their kittens with the training he had been raised with. In a gambit to keep their kittens from harm's way, the warrior lured the fox farther into the forest.

Remaining on full alert, the guard waited with eyes wide and ears forward for his mate to return. A piercing screech of agony tore him from his post and he raced after her, calling her name.

Light snuck into the den. Shaking like a leaf, one kitten crept forward, hurrying after the familiar form of his father. It became difficult to keep up with the long-legged tom, and he had nearly lost sight of him when a harsh bark made him freeze in the bushes. From that vantage point, he had the entire scene laid out in front of him: a towering stone, his mothers stark pelt visible against the stone, trapped between it and the fox; the predator's slathering maw, parting wide open as it lunged for its meal; his father's broad body as he launched himself between his mate and the monster bearing down on her.

It caught him in its jaw, swung him around and tore his throat out with the momentum. With a mournful shriek his mother threw herself at the creature in blind rage. It swatted her down, dropped her mate and made quick work of her. Only when there was nothing interfering with the silencing of its hunger pangs did the fox dig in to its tremendous meal.

Numb, the kitten stumbled away from the scene. Slowly, he picked up the pace, before fleeing from the monster. And he didn't stop running. Not until a stitch burned along his ribs and his heart felt like it would leap from his chest and his vision began to fade at the edges. Staggering to a stop, he sought shelter, a den, anywhere a den. Exhaustion crippled his legs underneath him, and he slipped into unconsciousness before he hit the ground.


{Design by Chaos}

Games. All he had to live off of were games of chasing leaves, of hunting his parents' tails, of swatting at bugs. He went hungry for days, his stomach slowly beginning to eat away at itself. Only by luck did he find a dead rabbit, yet the decay on it had already begun. In no place to be picky, he devoured the entirety of it, and forced himself not to throw up the rot that night.

And then, salvation. Voices. The relief was breath-taking, and he stumbled through the woods to find them. A step away from a completely different fate, three words stayed his paw; "I'll save you!" Laughter ensued, and slowly he drew a step back. The leaves parted under his tail, and he stared out at the young cats running around and playing. For several minutes he may have considered stepping out and asking for help, but something had stopped him-- something that couldn't be changed.

Why? Why would his father do that-- throw himself fruitlessly in front of his mother? Die? Why would he let himself die? Blinded by grief, his mother had attacked the predator and been slain. That kind of attachment-- to throw away your life...

Lowering himself to the ground, he crept away from the strangers.

For weeks, he made his way between settlements of cats, watching as they taught their litters how to hunt. He learned by example, and when he caught his first mouse, he left the populated area behind entirely. Moving farther north, he found a piece of land completely free of scent markers, and he settled there.


{Chaotic by Design}

Years he spent alone. It seems apparent that he would have engaged with some travelers, but from his stories, he grew up and lived by himself. From isolation and an aversion to emotional attachment came sociopathic tendencies. A learned inability to empathize with others meant that he was absolutely focused on the primary programming of every creature's mind; survival. His own life will always be his first priority, and nothing compromised that.

Why he left his home, is anyone's guess. Why, when he found the tribes, he lingered in their neutral lands, nobody knows. And when he found the Silver-Shadow, why he joined the tribe is a mystery. As Tylluan welcomed him back to the tribes, and the gray tattoo over his maw lightened to a green, Vokor moved to the water and gazed down at his reflection. A faintly disappointed, detached smile came to his lips. What a shame. Green didn't look nearly as good on his fur as gray had.


{Shadow in Daylight}

Early on, Vokor made a mistake in the tribes. It was Tylluan who he told his true name to, and only learned later that the true name holds control over a cat's soul. The trepidation he felt at this far exceeded any comeraderie he felt towards the Silver-Shadow.

Luckily - or so Vokor thinks - Tylluan met his death shortly after at the confrontation with the black caiman. It was a great relief to have no one, not even Arcis, know his true name. To have no one with that kind of control over his life. Shamelessly, Vokor was content with his late leader's passing.

Arcis. He'd met her back when she was an apprentice, and found her to be one of the most interesting of any of the tribe cats he'd met to date (with Tylluan grudgingly taking first place in that contest, even after death). It was her circumstance and her mindset that compelled him to take her under his wing, to show her how to live, as he calls it, "The most fulfilling life possible." It was from that point that he began to teach her the rules of living a proper life, rather than what she would have learned from these tribe cats.

And rule #1 was: Your life is your first priority.

He was put in the spotlight of his own rule when Shadow Tribe's prisoner, the Orange-Fire Akarui that had trespassed on their land, attacked him. Acting on instinct, defending his life, he broke her neck without a first or second thought, only realizing his actions after he backed away from her body. In his anxiety, he had looked towards his leader and awaited his own fate. Would he be exiled again?


{Aw fuck no}

Caimans. He's being sent to the vanguard to fight these things?? Vokor is not fucking happy. Actually he's terrified.

Coward or not, he's already found himself on the sharp end of a caiman's claws, and he barely escaped with his eye in tact. The scars are a testament to his cowardice, if anything; the instant blood flooded his vision he'd fled the front lines, using any excuse possible to get away from the scaled harbingers. Unfortunately for him, as soon as the wounds had been stanched, he'd been sent right back.

Memes

Plot Meme
Hypokits:
Relationship Chart
Gender Bent
Tattoo Ref Sheet
Age Meme
Expressions
Dirty Little Secret

Roleplay Status