[Little Liam]

The sky wept in a silent drizzle. It felt more as though Liam were walking through a misty fog than rain. The day was gray; the cloud the saber was traveling though blotting out the sun. It didn't bother the smoldering brute, he was content with the weather, it matched his soul. There was a strange comfort in this fact. Some might have found it depressing, but the forgotten kit found it refreshing. He was cooled by the touch of the cloud. The way the particles of water clung to his pelt as if they were attracted to him by a magnet. It left his scent muted. 

The sabr’s tongue flicked over the damp earth. It was a quick motion as he inhaled. There was not much he could gather from the moist earth. A sigh left his chest as his head rose. Blood soaked eyes narrowed as he examined the small meadow. It was lined by rows of tall trees, their color fading from bright green to brilliant reds. In the lower part of the mountains, rising above the trees, the peaks of old stoned remains. It peaked his interests. The things that the elder cats left in their wake had always intrigued the male.

Liam stood still, just his chest moved as he breathed deeply. He hardly blinked, only when the droplets on his lids grew heavy did he let his eyes flutter. He was content with watching the way the clouds moved above the trees, the way they billowed around the castle, and swallowed the rest of the horizon. 

The last remnants of a smoldering kingdom, Liam is painted in the blaze that snuffed out his former homeland. He is a transition; a near void at his flanks with a blush of mahogany. At his hindquarters, flakes of marigold and brick sprinkle in, like cinders fluttering through a scorched night’s air. The tip of the saber’stail fades into the emptiness that only can match his heart.
As you progress from the brute’s rump and travel along his spine, the mahogany is stripped, cut up by a burning glow of rich tangerine orange, maroon, and crimson. A raging fire is roaring in the cat’s gut with such intensity that it stained his pelt with its flames. The same marigold embers flicker across his rib cage, in no particular pattern, adding to the illusion that the flames are truly licking up his body. Liam walks through stripped flames. His forepaws dipped in glowing coals, the fires drowning out in that same rich mahogany at his shoulders and chest. 
The vast majority of the Saber’s nape is a warm maroon, it lightens towards his spine, and two thick cracks that resemble molten lava seeping out of the scorched earth split his small, hound, short mane. One at the base of his shoulders and the other just behind his cranium. The tips of Liams ears are shining brightly yellow. The right side of Liam's face is splattered with flames of marigold and tangerine fading up into his forehead. The opposite side of his face is actually scared. The fur near his blood rich eye burned away, sizzled until it left his cheek hot with burns. The same scarring can be seen on his right rib cage and his back left paw. He has little sensation left in that pad. 
Liam’s is built like a …young....gladiator. He is board shouldered, barrel-chested, but his legs still slim enough for him to dodge and evade. A well-crafted tool of beauty and destruction. He is evenly balanced, average in length, but on the taller side. He stands proudly, his head high and chest bared. He moved with a dignified grace and can often present himself as snobbish. His eyes are piercing, burning with a rich blood red that can bore through any soul, aiming to pick apart their secrets. As everyone has them. Don’t underetemate him, although he may come off like a jerk, he’s sweet heart and kind.

Monsters are created, not born. It took time to craft Liam into the cruel creature that he is today. Long ago were his virtues stripped away and warped, his naivety used against him until he grew jaded and bitter. His views of justice skewed, his heart darkened, and he turned cold and angry. The shell of a saber was left void, lost and lingering as all he believed in was burned away. In the darkness, the shadows of his personality seeped in; spreading like a virus. 
Merciless - The world has not been forgiving to Liam thus why should he be? Mercy is a sign of weakness, a sign that you cannot do what needs to be done, even if it's something soul-crushing. Time has proven to him that he cannot allow his enemies to walk among the living, he must be precise in his decisions and ultimatums are the only choices. 
Vengeful - Perhaps the leading trait that turned Liam into the monster he is today. He seeks justice against those who have done him wrong or those who were tools in such things. To betray him is signing a contract of demise. He will hurt you, only if you hurt him, He will take from you more than you took from him. He will leave you begging for death and only when he's had his fill of justice will he grant you your final wish. He trusts very few and to break his trust brings out a demon that knows no bounds. He will make you suffer, make you pay until you take your last breath. The highest offense to Liam is a betrayal by those he lets in.
Malevolent - To wish ill will on all would be foolish, he only wishes to punish and condemn those that do not follow under his law and rule. The world is his oyster and he the pearl for all to admire. He will take whatever measures necessary to ensure this. As that is how he was raised. He became zealous, drunk with the glory that was supposed to be his. At a time he was humble but when his birthright was stripped away is bitter. 
Liam walked up to the only ruins, sat and starred.