Villager: Alex Furstenfeld
Name: Alex Furstenfeld
Location: Quetzal Palace
Born 3 years, 6 months ago
Career: Construction Worker
Species: Big Cat
Color: White TigerBuffs:
House: FurCash House
Career (View All)
Alex Furstenfeld has fallen ill with Marble Allergy. Time taken to craft or repair a structure is increased by 50%. This illness can be cured with Allergy Paste.
Your eyes fall upon the strange Sabre sitting in the corner, her eyes constantly switching colours. She looked ghastly, deep wounds over her body, some even deep enough to show the bone.. Or... was that metal? Being the 'concerned' citizen you are, you wander over and take a seat across from her, asking if she was alright, cautiously eyeing those sharp fangs she sported. It took her a while to respond, as if she was coming out of a trance, her eyes finally settling back to normal. One green, one blue. "Eh?" She stared at you with a snarl. You repeat your question, inquiring if she was ok, noticing the blood that had pooled on the table in front of her as she shifted about. "I'm fine," she muttered, grabbing the flask of alcohol in front of her, gulping it all down in one fell move. Curiosity getting the better of you, you begin asking what had happened to her, being even bolder by leaning in to get a closer look at the mechanics that lay beneath her flesh. "Curiosity killed the Cat," she stated, a knife suddenly slamming down in front of your face, almost nicking the tip of your nose. "Well, almost, in this Kitty's case," she gestured to her wounds. "You wanna know my story? Buy me a plate of food and a drink. Then I might tell you."
I don't know who my real parents were. I don't know how I came into the care of Sir and Ma'am. Was I adopted? Stolen? Maybe I'll never know. Not that knowing will make a difference. What happened, happened. And there's no way to turn back time and prevent it from happening. I just hope they never lay their hands on another innocent child ever again. If I must? I'll personally make sure that it never happens again. Why, you ask? Why do I hold such disdain, such anger, such... hatred... towards these people who raised me? Heh...
Since the age of five... Or possibly before, I wouldn't know. I can only remember from five on-wards. They began beating me. No. Not because I misbehaved. Not because I did something wrong. They did it to make me immune to the pain. Each time I showed progress of blocking the pain out, they'd up the anti. Inflicting more pain each time, until these 'beatings' eventually turned into torture. Torture wasn't the only thing I endured. I had to become 'immune' to everything that life could throw at me. I had to be able to run for miles without tiring. It started with running around the neighborhood. Then around the city. Out of the city. Days, nights, any kind of weather. Naturally, they took advantage of the weather, forcing me out in the worst kinds to get me 'accustomed' to it. Throwing me out in the snow wearing shorts and a singlet. Throwing me under the scorching Summer sun in thick layers of clothing. Forced to suffer dehydration. Starvation. I could go on and on. I could name all the unspeakable things I went through, all the experiences that no living creature should EVER have to endure, all the unimaginable things they did to me. But what's the point? It won't change anything. They made me immune to life. Immune to love, pain.. All physical and emotional feelings. I was shot. I was stabbed. I was drowned, hanged, electrocuted. I was forced to kill, to torture.. I was made into an unstoppable weapon. Fuck schooling. Who needs to read and write when you're born to kill?
At eighteen, they shipped me off to the army. I expected it to be my childhood all over again. But in reality? It's where I found my true family. The General, was of course, an ass hole. Since I was supposed to be his 'weapon' after all. But all the other men in my squadron, these big, buff guys, took me under their wings and gave me the love that I never had as a child. They taught me to read, write.. Taught me how to have fun, for the first time in my life. I felt happy around them, y'know? We were a close knit family. Nothing could break our bond. We had each other's backs, stood together, fought together.. and some died together. Whilst they protected me the best they could, it still didn't change the fact that I was raised to be a military weapon. They couldn't stop the General from placing his orders on me, and if I ran away, as I'd already tried numerous times, he'd track me down and subdue me, and I'd be right back where I started, having it drilled into my head with torture and punishments and rigorous training, that I was military property. I belonged to the military. I would FOREVER belong to the military..