((If nobody minds, I'll join))
A lone feline rested his weary, 6'0" body on the branches, his muzzle black as onyx and his fur golden as the sun. His name was of little importance, for few cared to call him by it anyways, the only thing that mattered to him was fang, claw, and weapon, for he was a fighter in heart and soul. Yet deep within his soul shone a flame as black as purest midnight, he knew not why, but he reveled in the darkness and the sorrow of as many as possible, he could not help it, for it was his nature....
He sighed and sat on the branch, awaiting the next one that would come, awaiting the next one that he could lash out at, the next one that would fall below his blades and fangs. His tail was curled around the branch, just for the security that it gave, for if he fell he might be able to stop the fall by bearing all his weight with it....
And so he awaited, awaited his prey to reveal itself....