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GOa App - Kasatka Nakai

R0B0tak

Published: Aug 19, 2016

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Description

Updated app art ; u ; )/

Name: Kasatka Nakai _{notably, her family has no surname, but she used one of her brother’s surnames for the Census}
Nicknames: nothing she’ll answer to 8'|c _{especially not Ka-sock-ya lol}

Age: 3 years (~26)
_{Born in March, Year 276 - Aries}
Sex: Female
Orientation: Heterosexual

Alignment: True Neutral

Occupation: Street Fighter
_{Because earning a living out of (usually somewhat legally) beating the tar out of people.}
Battle Class: The Warrior
Level: 0

Inventory Tracker: takethra.deviantart.com/art/Ka…

Physical:
Turkish Angora Mix | 10 lbs | 24 cm. (quad) & 72 cm. (biped)
_{- Accessories: nothing really, except an earring – otherwise she runs around in the buff
- Size: rather short but well-built for a she-cat, although she’s more scrappy than bulky
- Distinguishing Features: pale green eyes and a perpetual scowl
- Fur: medium length, smooth, grey
- Bearing: almost constantly tense, and usually needlessly aggressive
- Scent: sharp like the air before a snow
- Voice: harsh and tense, almost boyish
[Voice Actor] Revy, Black Lagoon - www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElCPiA…}

Mental Health: 55% |

_{The earthquake in itself didn’t rattle her too much, as she had no physical attachments that were ruined; she also had a year in her alternate universe to get over the scare of when she thought she’d lost her family. Where the trauma truly lies is in the abuse she suffered before the timeline reset, and nothing has rattled her this much since the death of her brothers. It was a relief, if anything, returning to the earthquake a year past. But being able to say her last hours in the alternate universe “never physically happened” cannot change the emotional scars the memories left inside.}
Physical Health: 90% |

_{Considering the timeline reset has put her back a year ago, she has no physical signs of the last events of her alternate universe, so she is in good health, aside from the fact she was engaging a brawl when the earthquake struck; she sustained no too-serious injury in either.}

Personality:
_{Neutral
- Antisocial: Just as she’s not much of a comfort to be with, she’s not overly comfortable herself with spending time with anyone, or comfortable with conversation, or comfortable with friendliness. Not to say she’ll crack and shatter into a million pieces if someone so much as says hello, but she does not take easily to niceties she sees as needless and petty. A cold pale ale would do her well, before any solicitations of friendship would be met with anything besides a weird look.
- Impulsive: Though the numerous facets of society and the many who populate it always seem to have her on the edge of caution, she’s remarkably brash, and almost never fails to speak, or throw a punch, before thinking. She gets ticked off or feels slighted, and her temper will flare, reticence disintegrating, and she’ll rather quickly forget that she didn’t want to talk to you. She’ll give anyone who’ll listen an earful of her wrath, a habit of rashly speaking her mind she has not outgrown from kit-hood. It’s no small wonder her foot has such frequent residency in her mouth.
- Sensitive: Though she puts on a hard front, beneath the prickly façade is profound dissatisfaction with herself and her life. She’d never admit any such loathing, and is certainly quick to say that she’s just bloody fine the way she is and can do whatever she damn well pleases, but that’s certainly not how she feels on the interior. Though she’s quick to dismiss others’ words and jabs with scorn or a snarl of her own, the condemnation and insults stick to her subconscious like so many small anchors, and sometimes she believes them.

Negative
- Perpetually Hacked Off: This is probably the first thing anyone would notice about her – the fixed glare on her face. And anyone who’s seen her more than once would see that the glare still hasn’t left – and quickly come to realize that what their mother’s told them was true – if you keep your face looking like that, it really will get stuck that way. Kasatka reigns as the Queen of Pessimism, if of nothing else, and to her, any morning that wasn’t preceded by drinks at the bar, a quiet night’s sleep, or someone getting their teeth knocked out for them, is a bad morning. It’s not enough to say that she’s a problems person – she’s a solutions person too, but the solution is usually resorting to colorful language or violence.
- Self-Isolating: She knows she’s unlikeable, that unlikability being one of her defining qualities, the veritable quills to her porcupine. She’s accepted that, accepted that she doesn’t want to change, and doesn’t expect, or want, for that matter, you to like her. Being liked leads to such tiresome and undesirable things as others wanting to be with your or get to know you better – and what could be more dangerous than that?
- Contrarian: Some people go against the grain, but she takes the grain and chops it up into little bitty rage-filled pieces and throws them into a furnace. She doesn’t like what’s popular, or at least says she won’t, and refuses to follow any trend or social standard. Even if she does like something or someone, she’ll usually treat it or them with the same scorn she treats everything else with. She wouldn’t be caught dead expressing her love for sweet brandy, even if she was at a bar where the stuff was flowing like spring water. And if she thought a tom handsome, she would make it clear to him that she thought he was the ugliest, misbegotten son of a fox that ever tottered on two legs.
So, chances are, if it or he makes her gripe or complain or yell, she may very well secretly love it. Or, conversely and equally likely, she really does hate it and isn’t pretending at all. It’s still really dicey.

Positive
- Self-Sufficient: Though is a raging independence, you gotta hand it to her that at least she’s no mooch. Though she’s homeless she won’t deign to figurative couch-surfing, and she won’t take food she hasn’t paid for herself, even if it was by some miracle offered as a gift, and she especially won’t take from others in need. If there’s one code she lives by, her life is what she alone puts into it, no matter how pitiable her means, and accepting anything from anyone else’s is stealing.
- Compassionate: Conversely, Kasatka has this little thing that’s been bothering her all her life, a thing called a conscience. Despite what a cold menace she tries to make of herself, she can’t get away from her relentlessly pursuing sense of empathy. She hates to see the starving and weak go mistreated, she hates people who act like brutes, even if they act just like her, and though she despises it, when all is said and done, she has an overwhelming sense of mercy.
- Stoic: At least she doesn’t shy away from consequences. If the grapes of wrath she’d sewn reap a sour harvest, she’ll drink the bitter cup they result in. That’s one thing she’ll do quietly. If she’s earned a beat-down, or stockades, or worse payback, she’ll take it without running away or even flinching, with something that might be close to honor. If there’s one thing she learned from the streets, it’s the coward that flees what he’s earned that no one weeps for.

Other
Distrusting, uncouth, paranoid, snobbish, really loud or awkwardly silent}

History:

Kasatka was born to Tuar and Katina in the year 276 in the late winter. Her parents were foreigners, having come from a human’s ship from over the western ocean, to reside in the kingdom of Rithengar, in a smaller city up the coast from Gweillan. Her parents had made two sons before her, and in their new home they had four others after, over the course of the next two years of Kasatka’s life. She grew up playing in the ramshackle streets of the dilapidated city, with her two older brothers Makaio and Nakai. Though they were busy finding work of their own, to help their aging parents and younger siblings stay housed and fed, they still found time to be with her – and when eventually the young she-cat’s sharp tongue got her in fights she couldn’t hold up in with other street kids, they even taught her how to throw a decent punch, so her coming home with a bloody nose or torn ear wouldn’t continue to frighten their parents.
Even just out of kithood, Kasatka found she liked the fighting lessons rather more than her tailor mother’s lessons in seaming and knitting, or her farmer father’s instruction in the garden. Before her parents or her hapless older brothers knew it, she was picking out her own fights, and with not just kids, either. This earned her many a scolding from her already weary parents – but also earned her the eyes of her brother’s contemporaries, who composed a band of young rebels in the city. Her parents didn’t know of her older brother’s activity, of course, and they didn’t know it when their daughter soon joined them in their nightly escapades. The small gang of mostly toms were dedicated to the degradation of the corrupt leaders of their strained and grimy town, with the harsh taxes they impinged and biased legislation. They were dedicated to vandalizing and (usually uncivil) disobedience, robbing from the corrupt rich and giving to the poor. Kasatka quickly found herself in over her head, but she loved the ideals of their little group, even if her initiation had been very nearly traumatizing. Her older brothers Makaio and Nakai were not allowed to watch, as the gang’s leader brought her to the son of one of the city’s council members, whom they’d captured, and told her to beat him, that they might send a message in the form of a bruised and battered young tom to one of their supposed ‘enemies’. She’d been in after that, despite the guilt she felt in the act – she hadn’t let it show, of course. As long as her brothers hadn’t seen it, she could live with that.
It didn’t take long then, for their little gang to get shut down. One night, on a heist bent to vandalize the manor of one of the dignitaries, they were caught; it’d been a trap, one of the members of their troupe having informed on them from the start. Kasatka had to watch as the soldiers fell on her friends, capturing most of them – but her brothers were killed in the struggle.
She’d fled to her home. And when she had to bring her parents the news of her dead brothers, she could not bring herself to stay there, either. So she left her aging parents, and her four younger siblings, one of whom, Keija, had been born blind earlier that year – taking her few belongings from their old, squalorous home, and moving south, to Gweillan, a better city. She would make a living there, and send her family the money. If she couldn’t be with them, painful reminder of her brothers’ deaths that she was, then she could at least do that much.
So for a year, she did. At the start, she tried working as a hand in someone’s stable or on another’s farm, but whether it was because of her none-too-endearing personality, or sheer unluckiness, the work never stuck, and so she returned to what she knew. After all, you could get paid for fighting, if enough people watched. So that’s what she did. She started with small fights, as they were hard to come by when you were a small and ill-tempered she-cat – you got more laughs than money, until you spun your opponent around with a deck to the face. It didn’t take too long before she was starting to be taken seriously, and started making enough money to send back to her family.
She was fighting when the Rupture happened, too. It was a brawl with a pronounced supporter of the Steam Dynasty, newly come into town, which had given her more incentive to clean his clock for him, dislike as she did the pompous and gaudy company of strangers. She was in the middle of proverbially cleaning his proverbial clock, when the earthquake struck. For a split second, she was just wondering if this was the earth-shattering result of her putting his nose in for him, but quickly realized, when the buildings started tumbling down, that this was no such small ordeal. Then, on the heels of that realization, chaos fell completely.
That next year in the Rupture began like something out of a nightmare. No sooner had the earth had its upheaval in the city, than she was travelling, day and night to return to her home, to make sure the quake had not reached them, to make sure they were alright. The day she finally came upon her hometown, an aftershock shook the earth, and she came to find the township in chaos, weeping in the streets as survivors held their dead or dying loved ones, and by the time she got to her family’s old farm, she knew they were gone.
But not in the way she’d expected. Digging through the half-crumpled wreck of their little house, she saw a note her father had left inside, on that familiar wooden dinner table, thanking her for the funds, and stating that the family had left east for the year, that the six of them would work as farmhands on the plantation of one of his father’s acquaintance, as they needed the extra money desperately, and that if she visited in the time that they were gone, if she would please make sure there weren’t too many weeds springing up in their patch of field.
Relief overcame Kasatka, knowing that they had to be safe, and she spent the rest of the intervening seasons there on their little plot of land, using her days removing the debris and trying to return the house to its former semblance of order, Gweillan forgotten. When the tax-collector came, the earthquake’s dust was still fresh on his paws, as he informed her that her father was two years behind on his taxes, and remarking about how strange it was that her he and everyone else appeared to be gone. Unsettled, she watched him go, as he said he would return two months hence to see where she was with that. He did return, and she was less kind to him this time – what kind of heartless fiend would so doggedly pursue the fattening of his pocket – for she knew from her days in the gang that this was one of the tax-collectors skimming off the top – at the detriment of a dirt-poor family of an old man and woman. The tax-collector was kind enough to give her six months, but if she didn’t have the money by then, there would be yet more “fiscal consequences and otherwise” her “poor, dear, and unfortunate family” would have to endure.
So for half a year, she tried to find work in her home town, in Gweillan, going back and forth from both establishments as they still tried to rebuild. She moved rock and hunted and ran errands and weeded fields and even got back into the fighting for some extra scratch, even while the vultures that ran her home town leeched off of her people’s suffering more than ever before; but Kasatka knew she couldn’t do anything about it, not anymore, with the gang broken up, and so put her back into work. She could have sworn that it was enough, by the time the year came to an end. But the tax-collector determined that it was not, even beforehand, for he’d brought two mercenaries with him.
That summer afternoon, her last day in the Rupture, they’d taken all her earnings and her family’s property, no matter how she protested. They took her, also, on the very floor of her childhood home. A fight she did not win. And for an hour that evening, Kasatka lost her mind, and then her consciousness.
How much more surprised was she when she woke up, unharmed, the sun in her eyes, and dirt in her fur, smell of broken stone in her nose, on the afternoon of the earthquake twelve months ago.

Roleplay Example: Hyde and Markus, with Sargeant-Knoxx in Amnesty-for-Animals~
_{Hyde’s head tottered on his neck, as his face turned to survey his newfound companion once more, narrow eyes narrowing further with a smile at the kid’s quip. ”Come here often…” A rhetorical question that’s sole purpose was to fill the awkward silence that was spreading like a willful, lazy, itchy woolen blanket between them. Hyde crossed and re-crossed his legs in the thrum of his buzz, twiddling the cigarette between his fingers as he exhaled white.
“Naw, this is just the shortest pit-stop from the bar to my crib,” he answered finally, even though the question never wanted an answer, as he took another pull off of the cig, words that followed as insubstantial as the fog he breathed; “While I’m inebriated I like to watch the nightlife. And tempt fate to see if anyone wantsta try and mug a drunk motherf***er like me.” He smiled, realizing that there was really no point to his anecdote and that he was beginning to ramble, and then realized that he didn’t give a crap.
“But what brings /you/ here, fellow traveler?” Hyde asked with disinterest, looking with a lazy smile at the punk occupying the other end of the seat. Lucky for him Hyde was feeling the anti-social philosophical irony, too. “What brings you the opposite-end of this nondescript yet ironically fateful bench?”}

Relationships:
_{Relationship Tracker: sta.sh/01q4iooa7ze4
Relationship Status: Single
Orientation: Heterosexual
Attractions: x
Attracted To: Interesting eyes, good sense of humor, good taste in alcohol, masculine and strong, although secretly she has a weakness for pretty boys. But most of all, the miracle of someone who makes her feel wanted.}

Trivia:

Hobbies: not much besides brawling, participating in tavern brawling, drinking, participating in drinking contests, being angsty, turning saplings into kindling with her fists; girl needs to make some friends.