Post by ~.:Firefeather:.~ on May 21, 2013 22:47:23 GMT -6
Alright so I do have a few Queens, Kits and Apprenticeses that are Pre-made for people who just want to adopt instead, But I do Need A Rp Sample from you before you can claim these cats for your own use
NAME! Streamrunner
AGE! 20 moons
RANK! warrior
GENDER! female
CLAN! River
SHORT DESC.! Lean silver tabby she-cat with gray eyes.
FULL DESCRIPTION!
>>built
Stream is a very lean she-cat. Her mother, who was known for being petite, passed on some of her qualities. Stream has Cloudwisp's tiny paws and frame, but her legs are long and tail nearly as long. She has a tiny face, small and angular. Stream's body is quick, but not very powerful. She has long legs, but they are more built for speed rather than power. This is her draw back in battle, for her power is not nearly where it needs to be in order to defeat large opponents.
>>pelt
Stream's pelt is the color of rain cloud. Not the dark, ominous ones, but the soft, light, just barely enough to sprinkle down droplets of water. She has black tabby markings covering her body. Her fur is of medium length, but is thick to with stand the cold temperatures of the water she swims in. Stream's soft fur is in envy of the clan, for she always keeps it at it's utmost quality. She hates having a dirty pelt, and will do anything to keep it clean.
>>eyes and face
Stream has a very angular face. It is very small. It is perfect proportion to her body, however. Her eyes are big and round, almost perfectly circular. They are the color of a gray rain cloud, almost a light silver color.
PERSONALITY!
>>Elegance.
This she-cat is anything but trashy. She carries her head high and walks like she's floating. She has an atmosphere around her that demands attention. Stream is the type of she-cat who prides herself on being educated. She believes the world to be idiotic compared to her superiority. Her tail flows with her body. Every step she takes, every move she makes, is planned. She is methodical and patient.
>>Temper.
That's right, this she-cat has quite the temper despite her patience. However, it is not the type of temper that you would normally expect. She bottles her emotions, never lets them show. She keeps all the hurt she feels and all the disappointment she's had kept deep down in her heart, kept under lock and key. Her eyes don't even show the simplest of emotions. Due to this, her temper is a slow boil. Things pile on top of each other, and slowly all of her patience dwindles away and leaves her with rage. Her rage, however, never shows. Rather, she'll take it out on animals, mostly small prey, or flowers, or anything nearby. Anything but other cats. She refuses to harm another being like her. She refuses to be her father.
>>Self-pity
Stream has a serious case of self pity. She hates herself for who she is, what she wants to do sometimes. She feels sorry for what she's gone through. However, as I have stated before she never shows it. Rather, in order to make herself happy she tries her best to make others happy. She is extremely empathetic. Cats think she cannot feel because she does not show, but this is not the case. She feels too much. That's why she hides everything. Even her past.
HISTORY!
>>kit-hood
She was born to a she-cat and a tom who loved each other. At least, that is what she believed. It is the only truth she chooses to recognize, and therefor it is the only one that is true. In reality, her mother, Cloudwisp, was afraid of the tom named Gingerfrost who had come into the clan months earlier. His name was extremely misleading. He was a pitch black tom, but his eyes. His eyes were a fiery blue. Yes, a blue with brown flecks, making them alight with a charisma that he knew he had. Her mother, a petite silver she-cat, was the opposite of her father. She was a gentle and kind soul. Stream grew up in a home with an adoring mother and a father who appeared occasionally. However, she never knew the pain her mother felt until later in life. She never knew of her father's treachery. He left when she was young for good. Well, at least for a little while.
>>apprentice-hood
Stream grew into a beautiful silver tabby. Her mother taught her how to be elegant and kind. Her mentor taught her everything else. She was an excellent fighter with moves like a cloud. She fought on her feet, light and quick. As a swimmer and fisher, she was average in her class. It was during land hunting that she learned her love to inflict pain on animals. She loved to feel their blood under her claws and feel their life leave their bodies due to her actions. She never let anyone know how much she enjoyed it, for fear of being ridiculed. But oh how she loved it.
When she was 10 moons, she was out hunting with her mother. Cloud loved to hunt as well, but Stream was pretty sure it was not in the way she did. As they rounded a tree, Stream came face-to-chest with a massive black tom. She breathed in his scent and her mother's fear and instantly recognized him as her father. She backed up a couple steps, fear alight in her eyes. When he got sight of her fear, he flourished in it. He was a monster. But she did not know until then. Cass.. Her mother's voice sounded across the space. I've come to collect Cloud. At that statement, Stream hid behind her mother's legs. To hell you have. Over my dead body!
[/s] Cloud bared her teeth and perked her ears, ready for battle. Cass just laughed. My dear, anger looks so bad on you. Settle down. He paused for a moment, wanting to build suspense. It happened just that a moment that a patrol was walking by a couple yards away. Cloud let out a yowl, and Cass ran off. It was after that incident that Cloud explained everything to Stream. How her father wanted her to be a warrior, an assassin for him to train. He pressured Cloud into everything, she never wanted that for her child. She explained that he lived in the city not far a way and was the leader of a band of rogues. For the rest of her apprenticeship, Stream lived in fear of her father's return.
>>warrior-hood
When she became a warrior, she told her mother she was going out for a day or two, but she will return. She promised to return. She did not tell her mother where she was going, mostly because she knew she would disapprove. But ever since her father had come that winter day, she had trained for this moment. She had trained for this moment all her life. She went to the city, not a bad journey in the spring. She made it there quickly, and upon her arrival was greeted by some scraggly looking toms. Tell me, my dears, where is the black tom you call Cass? They led her to her father, who was training what looked like his son. He was black, also, the deep, void of light black that his father's coat possessed. The tom was young, about 11 moons, almost what she was when her father had tried to take her away.
Have you come to stay, my dear? Her father's voice made her claws come out. He sent her on edge. His voice prickled at her spine. She really could not stand him. Everything about him made her insides itch with hate. I've come to collect. Her maw snarled into a smile as she repeated the very words he had said so many moons ago. He smiled, too, and came closer to her. She let him, but not because she liked him. She wanted him closer. Can we talk... privately? She smiled again, her voice elegant and smooth. He nodded to go to the back room of the night club she was in. She followed him obediently, but now when she looks back he must have known what she was up to. He had his claws out, she remembered because they clanked against the floor. As soon as the other tom was out of sight, the she-cat had planned to attack her father, but he turned around suddenly, and there was something in his eyes that told her to stop.
My dear, you do not know me. Why do you try to judge me?[/s] His voice was not like it was before. It was softer, quieter. First, I am anything but your dear. You do not hold the dignity to call me that. Second, I am not judging you. He smiled, and pushed over a bowl of water to her. She refused it politely. Oh but you are. Do not worry, your nightmares will soon be over. He drank from his own bowl, and she watched in horror as her father gagged and drowned in his own blood. She imagined that it had been poisoned. He died as she stood across the room. A single tear rolled down her cheek, but that was it. After that she walked out of the room to find a wide-eyed black tom at the doorway. She smiled at him and gently touched him with her tail. Goodbye my little brother. She walked out of the room, and never looked back to that city.
She returned to her clan and told her mother everything that had passed. They both rejoiced in her father's death, but Stream cannot help but to wander sometimes about that powerful black tom with gray eyes just like hers. She wonders often what has come to pass of him. A moon ago her mother died of all age, but it was not a sad occasion. Her mother had lived a life she enjoyed. And Stream knows she would not want her to be sad.[/blockquote]
NAME! Frostedpaw.
AGE! 10 moons.
RANK! Apprentice
GENDER! Female
CLAN! Riverclan
SHORT DESC.! brown and black furred tabby with black stripes on head and icy blue eyes.
frostedpaw
.FULL DESCRIPTION!
Frostedpaw is a marbled ocicat cat. His features are mostly of a dark grey and creamy white variation in his fur. He does have some light brown blended into where the creamy white starts and the dark grey meets it. The black stripes connect in long rings that wrap around his chest and belly. His most noticible features are his bright blue eyes and open innocent face. His fur has a cotton like quality to it, that its soft to the touch and has a cushioning feel to it.
PERSONALITY!
Questioning
Frostedpaw is an extremly curious fellow, and is just full of questions. He seeks knowledge readily and if something stumps him it will nag at him until he finds something satisfactory for an answer. Sometimes his persistence can become annoying, but he feels that if its important enough that it peeks his intrique then he must know.
Free spirited
Happy go lucky can be an apt description of his liveliness. He is usually bright and cheery and seems like everything is all sunshine and roses. Some would say that he is too open minded and optimistic, but he just tries hard to find the silverlining to ever situation.
Laid back
Go with the flow and ride the waves is another motto of his. Unless the situation is dire, he is content to take his time enjoying the tasks he is given. Not one to panic, he is very brave and handles fear quite well.
open minded
Frostedpaw is very open to learning new things, or excepting ideals that are outside of the clan. He is not all that concerned with there religion and though he belives in his ancestors and starclan, he is not a firm believer that they can change the fate of the living. He focuses on problems he can solve not riddles that are intangible.
friendly
Overall he is a cuddly tom to be around, and he likes to talk and spend time with anyone willing to listen to him and share his company. He hopes to have a family and live a peaceful or nearly peaceful existence with a mate and kits someday.
Mischievious
He can be quite a troublemaker, and likes to pull pranks. He has also been known to doze off on occasion and avoid a duty if something catches his interest and gets his thoughts going. He once stared at mouse and watched it scurry about instead of trying to catch it, just because its movements fascinated him.
HISTORY!
History here.
Relatives
Mother - Softfeather
Father - Piketalon
kit
Frostedkit was born on a dark night during the first frost of the season. His pelt also fit with the frosty ground, and his mother was pleased to see the icy blue eyes that her mate had were also given to him. Softfeather as her name described was a dainty gentle soul, she was mainly a hunter and nursery tender. She tried to avoid the scuffles of battle, not being particularily good at fighting. She didn't care to shead blood, but instead had a healthy thirst for mysteries. Thats where Frostedpaw got his laid back analytical atmosphere. His father was a fighter and was quite a skilled warrior, very smart and fast, he had a pelt like his son. Piketalon taught his kit to be crafty and to use his intelligence to sneak up on others and to out wit them. Frostedkit was an odd character, always eager to learn more and more, but always getting into trouble.
apprentice
Hailstorm took him as his apprentice at six moons much to his father's delight and his mother's grief. Hailstorm was known for being a very demanding and strict warrior, and as a leader he was no diffrent. Grinning optimistically and as light hearted as ever, Frostedpaw touched noses with his new mentor and basked in the amount of knowledge he would gain from him. Now he is trying to find his way in the clan.
~adopted by HawkShadow~
NAME! larkcall
AGE! 17 moons.
RANK! warrior.
GENDER! f
CLAN! shadowclan.
SHORT DESC.! A lithe, golden-brown she-cat with Silver eyes
FULL DESCRIPTION!
This short-haired she-cat isn't sleek due to the glimmer of her fur (it actually has more of a fuzzy, fine texture to it), but in the way she carries herself. larkcall has the grace of a panther, soundless and completely at ease. there are certainly a few forest cats that step heavily, shaking the earth with their paws, or those that skitter in the shadows, but this female walks like liquid gold, a glimmering fluid.
soundlessly she can be seen in the shadowclan domain. primarily recognized by her gait, the skinny feline is colored like dusky, dusty stones. not quite brown, not quite gold, her lighter coloring and delicate build make her look almost like a windclanner. it is larkcall's eyes that mark her as a cat from the shadows. guarded, and downcast she quietly observes the world with rich golden eyes. they never race across her surroundings, but slowly, thoughtfully absorb it all, because shadows rarely rush anything.
although some would consider larkcall "beautiful" others remark on her tiny frame. she might be long and medium sized, but she lacks the substance of a well fed warrior. ironically, this petite lady could eat three times her meager body weight in one sitting, she remains thin as a rail.
PERSONALITY!
Larkcall, like so many conscious beings, struggles with her confidence. she consistently feels a need to be precise as that gives her a distinct feeling of control, when all else seems to be falling apart. the primary issue here is not that her life is in shambles, but that she perceive any slight failure as a massive offense, further injuring her painfully low self esteem.
Despite her insecurity, larkcall is very kind and generally knows what to say to make other cats like her. this has come in handy in the past when she is found accidentally trespassing among rogue-infested locations, or those border crossing moments that every cat with any sense of curiosity experiences. her personable personality has its limits however, as larkcall's fatal flaw is logic. no one is safe from her logical forces, and this unfortunately makes the she-cat seem blunt and insensitive sometimes, when she is simply trying to "help" by giving her fellow felines the purely factual information. surprisingly, no cat enjoys being told their opinion is invalid based on situational flaws.... weird.
Like all ladies, miss larkcall craves the attention of a male. she so desperately wants to feel loved and accepted just as she tries to love and accept her clan members in hopes that it will somehow filter down to her. gentle as a midsummer breeze, she tends to miss out on the flirting opportunities as that would take personal, almost aggressive initiative. on the flipside, her genteel aura means is a fantastic observer. reconnaissance being her specialty, the graceful feline can swiftly and soundlessly gather information in a jiffy. her unremarkable way of living allows her to pass unnoticed in many useful circumstances.
HISTORY!
Larkcall earned her prefix due to the coloring of her pelt. it is remarkably similar in color to that of a lark. her mother was obviously brilliant. what is really significant here is her suffix. her shadowclan mates may identify her with quiet, effortless movements, but when anyone utters the name "larkcall" they immediately jump to her voice. larks seem to sustain an endless melody, one that turns many appreciative ears. larkpaw's mother couldn't have known that her daughter would conveniently have a lovely light voice as well.
Let's get this straight, cats can not sing, that would not only be super weird, but it is anatomically impossible. however, larkcall's voice could be alikened to music based on its shimmery lilt. crisp and clear, her rarely spoken words are like bright gems, glowing, and pulsing with brilliance. The few cats who have gotten her excited about anything can remark on the way she lights up and projects her emotions with such strength and feeling. her suffix suits her well, for like any forest bird, in order to remain elusive she mustn't chatter constantly, but when she does it is a lovely and welcome sound.
How exactly did this promising warrior get such a demure personality you might ask? I would too considering she was raised in shadowclan, where cunning and excellence are prized the most. well, larkcall is capable of cunning, her observational skills are exceptional, and she is absolutely excellent due to an unhealthy obsession with precision. the issue here is that she would rather watch the success of others. a part of that is genuine self-sacrificing kindness, but a big part of it is that larkcall is terrified of drawing attention to herself, because failing is one thing, but having others watch her mess up is completely different. having conditioned herself with this attitude for many moon it has become a major part of her personality, and hopefully one she can combat and grow through.
RP EXAMPLE!
Light spilled onto the sludgy expanse of undergrowth and foul-smelling water. the surface of the swamp was still, interrupted occasionally by mysterious bubbling or a thick ripple. those ripples were important, as some kind of animal caused it. well, not some kind of animal, because only a toad would enjoy living in the muck of the stale swamplands. Larkcall blinked slowly, her maw twisting wryly as she laughed at her own wit. she was a skilled hunter, as were all members of shadowclan, but this activity brought her such a strong sense of peace and pride. nothing could match the feeling of being completely centered and in tune with her flexing muscles. the beating of her heart pulsed alongside the breathing of the earth, and the next pop of a toad-filled bubble sent her racing across the stepping stones scattered among the sludge. if her apprenticeship had taught her anything it was finding these concealed pathways and avoiding the slippery moss at all costs. no feline in her right mind enjoyed licking musty, caking filth from her pelt. reasons to lay off on having kits, who somehow always managed to get covered in muck after every single romp.
silently careening towards the disturbance she timed her slip with expert precision. her mentor had taught her to check the rocks in this area frequently, to memorize their stability, a lesson that came in handy time and time again. the loosened boulder tapped the water testily, making Larkcall's prey leap to attention. flicking her paw out smartly the she-cat interrupted its escape mid-flight and daintily slammed the prey onto the stone beneath her. "Another clean kill," she cheerfully chirped, before picking up the morsel and prancing back to camp.
~Adopted by Midnightive~
NAME! Brightpaw.
AGE! 6 moons.
RANK! apprentice.
GENDER! f
CLAN! WindClan.
SHORT DESC.! A light ginger tabby and white she-cat with yellow eyes.
FULL DESCRIPTION!
PERSONALITY!
Brightpaw has a serious inferiority complex, and compounded with her fierce competitiveness, it really does set herself up for failure. While she's not a natural worrier, she does spend a lot of time putting herself down and criticizing her actions. Even when she succeeds, there's always that voice in her head telling her that she's still not good enough, that she needs to do better.
Brightpaw is also a perfectionist up into levels of crazy. She has to be the best, and works herself to the bone to get there. She wakes up at the crack of dawn every day and puts 100% into everything she does. She refuses to acknowledge that her body has limits, and instead regards "limits" as more obstacles for her to get past. Every so often her exhaustion catches up with her, and on those days she's even harder on herself for needing to rest.
Super fun not on Brightpaw: she is incredibly shy. I mean, she is so shy that she loses the ability to form audible words in the company of others, unless she knows them really well and they're not being mean to her. So most of the time she's silent and allows her body language to speak for her. It's been working out so far.
HISTORY!
Brightpaw's parents thought they were in love. Perhaps her mother really had been. But soon after she was pregnant with kits, they had a falling out. It was a fight so nasty that the deputy had to break it up. Brightpaw's father began courting another she-cat, and Brightpaw's mother was crushed.
Then the kits were born early. Due to the stress of the pregnancy, Brightpaw was the only kit to survive the night. Brightpaw's mother spent the next six months cautioning Brightpaw not to trust the kind words of other males or else she would have her heart broken.
Brightpaw's father didn't like to be reminded that he had a daughter, and Brightpaw quickly learned to avoid him entirely. He loved enumerating her faults for her and insisting that she would be an inept warrior. Every time she got in trouble or messed up, he would call her a failure, or else blame her mother. The few times she did something someone praised her for, suddenly it was because his blood in her veins had finally done something right.
Rabies took him shortly before Brightpaw was apprenticed. In a deep, dark place in her heart she'll never admit that she has, she was relieved.
RP EXAMPLE!
Wind buffeted her ears, but she kept the rest of her still as stone. Other apprentices had trouble keeping their tails from twitching when they were on the hunt; bad habits picked up from kithood. She didn't. Control oozed from her every pore, straightening her senses into finely tuned weapons. Wind blew the strong scent of rabbit to her hiding spot in a thin clump of scraggly bushes, and she strained her ears to ear her prey.
She didn't. She saw it first, bounding her way like its life depended on it. Which it did; her hunting partner appeared over the hill just behind the rabbit, hard on its tail. The rabbit zig-zagged right toward her hiding spot, trusting its nose to alert it to more danger. But lucky for Brightpaw, the wind didn't shift. She burst from the bush in a flash of tawny and white and fastened her teeth into the rabbit's neck, just missing the spine. The rabbit thrashed wildly, but she held on with her claws and aimed another bite.
"What a sloppy kill," her hunting partner observed. "Better not give that one to the elders. But hey, a kill's a kill. Someone will eat well tonight."
Her earlier confidence slipped away like water over rocks. I need to practice more, she thought. That was a sloppy kill. She just nodded to her partner, grateful for the lack of harsh criticism. She was hard enough on herself as it was.
NAME! Streamrunner
AGE! 20 moons
RANK! warrior
GENDER! female
CLAN! River
SHORT DESC.! Lean silver tabby she-cat with gray eyes.
FULL DESCRIPTION!
>>built
Stream is a very lean she-cat. Her mother, who was known for being petite, passed on some of her qualities. Stream has Cloudwisp's tiny paws and frame, but her legs are long and tail nearly as long. She has a tiny face, small and angular. Stream's body is quick, but not very powerful. She has long legs, but they are more built for speed rather than power. This is her draw back in battle, for her power is not nearly where it needs to be in order to defeat large opponents.
>>pelt
Stream's pelt is the color of rain cloud. Not the dark, ominous ones, but the soft, light, just barely enough to sprinkle down droplets of water. She has black tabby markings covering her body. Her fur is of medium length, but is thick to with stand the cold temperatures of the water she swims in. Stream's soft fur is in envy of the clan, for she always keeps it at it's utmost quality. She hates having a dirty pelt, and will do anything to keep it clean.
>>eyes and face
Stream has a very angular face. It is very small. It is perfect proportion to her body, however. Her eyes are big and round, almost perfectly circular. They are the color of a gray rain cloud, almost a light silver color.
PERSONALITY!
>>Elegance.
This she-cat is anything but trashy. She carries her head high and walks like she's floating. She has an atmosphere around her that demands attention. Stream is the type of she-cat who prides herself on being educated. She believes the world to be idiotic compared to her superiority. Her tail flows with her body. Every step she takes, every move she makes, is planned. She is methodical and patient.
>>Temper.
That's right, this she-cat has quite the temper despite her patience. However, it is not the type of temper that you would normally expect. She bottles her emotions, never lets them show. She keeps all the hurt she feels and all the disappointment she's had kept deep down in her heart, kept under lock and key. Her eyes don't even show the simplest of emotions. Due to this, her temper is a slow boil. Things pile on top of each other, and slowly all of her patience dwindles away and leaves her with rage. Her rage, however, never shows. Rather, she'll take it out on animals, mostly small prey, or flowers, or anything nearby. Anything but other cats. She refuses to harm another being like her. She refuses to be her father.
>>Self-pity
Stream has a serious case of self pity. She hates herself for who she is, what she wants to do sometimes. She feels sorry for what she's gone through. However, as I have stated before she never shows it. Rather, in order to make herself happy she tries her best to make others happy. She is extremely empathetic. Cats think she cannot feel because she does not show, but this is not the case. She feels too much. That's why she hides everything. Even her past.
HISTORY!
>>kit-hood
She was born to a she-cat and a tom who loved each other. At least, that is what she believed. It is the only truth she chooses to recognize, and therefor it is the only one that is true. In reality, her mother, Cloudwisp, was afraid of the tom named Gingerfrost who had come into the clan months earlier. His name was extremely misleading. He was a pitch black tom, but his eyes. His eyes were a fiery blue. Yes, a blue with brown flecks, making them alight with a charisma that he knew he had. Her mother, a petite silver she-cat, was the opposite of her father. She was a gentle and kind soul. Stream grew up in a home with an adoring mother and a father who appeared occasionally. However, she never knew the pain her mother felt until later in life. She never knew of her father's treachery. He left when she was young for good. Well, at least for a little while.
>>apprentice-hood
Stream grew into a beautiful silver tabby. Her mother taught her how to be elegant and kind. Her mentor taught her everything else. She was an excellent fighter with moves like a cloud. She fought on her feet, light and quick. As a swimmer and fisher, she was average in her class. It was during land hunting that she learned her love to inflict pain on animals. She loved to feel their blood under her claws and feel their life leave their bodies due to her actions. She never let anyone know how much she enjoyed it, for fear of being ridiculed. But oh how she loved it.
When she was 10 moons, she was out hunting with her mother. Cloud loved to hunt as well, but Stream was pretty sure it was not in the way she did. As they rounded a tree, Stream came face-to-chest with a massive black tom. She breathed in his scent and her mother's fear and instantly recognized him as her father. She backed up a couple steps, fear alight in her eyes. When he got sight of her fear, he flourished in it. He was a monster. But she did not know until then. Cass.. Her mother's voice sounded across the space. I've come to collect Cloud. At that statement, Stream hid behind her mother's legs. To hell you have. Over my dead body!
[/s] Cloud bared her teeth and perked her ears, ready for battle. Cass just laughed. My dear, anger looks so bad on you. Settle down. He paused for a moment, wanting to build suspense. It happened just that a moment that a patrol was walking by a couple yards away. Cloud let out a yowl, and Cass ran off. It was after that incident that Cloud explained everything to Stream. How her father wanted her to be a warrior, an assassin for him to train. He pressured Cloud into everything, she never wanted that for her child. She explained that he lived in the city not far a way and was the leader of a band of rogues. For the rest of her apprenticeship, Stream lived in fear of her father's return.
>>warrior-hood
When she became a warrior, she told her mother she was going out for a day or two, but she will return. She promised to return. She did not tell her mother where she was going, mostly because she knew she would disapprove. But ever since her father had come that winter day, she had trained for this moment. She had trained for this moment all her life. She went to the city, not a bad journey in the spring. She made it there quickly, and upon her arrival was greeted by some scraggly looking toms. Tell me, my dears, where is the black tom you call Cass? They led her to her father, who was training what looked like his son. He was black, also, the deep, void of light black that his father's coat possessed. The tom was young, about 11 moons, almost what she was when her father had tried to take her away.
Have you come to stay, my dear? Her father's voice made her claws come out. He sent her on edge. His voice prickled at her spine. She really could not stand him. Everything about him made her insides itch with hate. I've come to collect. Her maw snarled into a smile as she repeated the very words he had said so many moons ago. He smiled, too, and came closer to her. She let him, but not because she liked him. She wanted him closer. Can we talk... privately? She smiled again, her voice elegant and smooth. He nodded to go to the back room of the night club she was in. She followed him obediently, but now when she looks back he must have known what she was up to. He had his claws out, she remembered because they clanked against the floor. As soon as the other tom was out of sight, the she-cat had planned to attack her father, but he turned around suddenly, and there was something in his eyes that told her to stop.
My dear, you do not know me. Why do you try to judge me?[/s] His voice was not like it was before. It was softer, quieter. First, I am anything but your dear. You do not hold the dignity to call me that. Second, I am not judging you. He smiled, and pushed over a bowl of water to her. She refused it politely. Oh but you are. Do not worry, your nightmares will soon be over. He drank from his own bowl, and she watched in horror as her father gagged and drowned in his own blood. She imagined that it had been poisoned. He died as she stood across the room. A single tear rolled down her cheek, but that was it. After that she walked out of the room to find a wide-eyed black tom at the doorway. She smiled at him and gently touched him with her tail. Goodbye my little brother. She walked out of the room, and never looked back to that city.
She returned to her clan and told her mother everything that had passed. They both rejoiced in her father's death, but Stream cannot help but to wander sometimes about that powerful black tom with gray eyes just like hers. She wonders often what has come to pass of him. A moon ago her mother died of all age, but it was not a sad occasion. Her mother had lived a life she enjoyed. And Stream knows she would not want her to be sad.[/blockquote]
NAME! Frostedpaw.
AGE! 10 moons.
RANK! Apprentice
GENDER! Female
CLAN! Riverclan
SHORT DESC.! brown and black furred tabby with black stripes on head and icy blue eyes.
frostedpaw
.FULL DESCRIPTION!
Frostedpaw is a marbled ocicat cat. His features are mostly of a dark grey and creamy white variation in his fur. He does have some light brown blended into where the creamy white starts and the dark grey meets it. The black stripes connect in long rings that wrap around his chest and belly. His most noticible features are his bright blue eyes and open innocent face. His fur has a cotton like quality to it, that its soft to the touch and has a cushioning feel to it.
PERSONALITY!
Questioning
Frostedpaw is an extremly curious fellow, and is just full of questions. He seeks knowledge readily and if something stumps him it will nag at him until he finds something satisfactory for an answer. Sometimes his persistence can become annoying, but he feels that if its important enough that it peeks his intrique then he must know.
Free spirited
Happy go lucky can be an apt description of his liveliness. He is usually bright and cheery and seems like everything is all sunshine and roses. Some would say that he is too open minded and optimistic, but he just tries hard to find the silverlining to ever situation.
Laid back
Go with the flow and ride the waves is another motto of his. Unless the situation is dire, he is content to take his time enjoying the tasks he is given. Not one to panic, he is very brave and handles fear quite well.
open minded
Frostedpaw is very open to learning new things, or excepting ideals that are outside of the clan. He is not all that concerned with there religion and though he belives in his ancestors and starclan, he is not a firm believer that they can change the fate of the living. He focuses on problems he can solve not riddles that are intangible.
friendly
Overall he is a cuddly tom to be around, and he likes to talk and spend time with anyone willing to listen to him and share his company. He hopes to have a family and live a peaceful or nearly peaceful existence with a mate and kits someday.
Mischievious
He can be quite a troublemaker, and likes to pull pranks. He has also been known to doze off on occasion and avoid a duty if something catches his interest and gets his thoughts going. He once stared at mouse and watched it scurry about instead of trying to catch it, just because its movements fascinated him.
HISTORY!
History here.
Relatives
Mother - Softfeather
Father - Piketalon
kit
Frostedkit was born on a dark night during the first frost of the season. His pelt also fit with the frosty ground, and his mother was pleased to see the icy blue eyes that her mate had were also given to him. Softfeather as her name described was a dainty gentle soul, she was mainly a hunter and nursery tender. She tried to avoid the scuffles of battle, not being particularily good at fighting. She didn't care to shead blood, but instead had a healthy thirst for mysteries. Thats where Frostedpaw got his laid back analytical atmosphere. His father was a fighter and was quite a skilled warrior, very smart and fast, he had a pelt like his son. Piketalon taught his kit to be crafty and to use his intelligence to sneak up on others and to out wit them. Frostedkit was an odd character, always eager to learn more and more, but always getting into trouble.
apprentice
Hailstorm took him as his apprentice at six moons much to his father's delight and his mother's grief. Hailstorm was known for being a very demanding and strict warrior, and as a leader he was no diffrent. Grinning optimistically and as light hearted as ever, Frostedpaw touched noses with his new mentor and basked in the amount of knowledge he would gain from him. Now he is trying to find his way in the clan.
~adopted by HawkShadow~
NAME! larkcall
AGE! 17 moons.
RANK! warrior.
GENDER! f
CLAN! shadowclan.
SHORT DESC.! A lithe, golden-brown she-cat with Silver eyes
FULL DESCRIPTION!
This short-haired she-cat isn't sleek due to the glimmer of her fur (it actually has more of a fuzzy, fine texture to it), but in the way she carries herself. larkcall has the grace of a panther, soundless and completely at ease. there are certainly a few forest cats that step heavily, shaking the earth with their paws, or those that skitter in the shadows, but this female walks like liquid gold, a glimmering fluid.
soundlessly she can be seen in the shadowclan domain. primarily recognized by her gait, the skinny feline is colored like dusky, dusty stones. not quite brown, not quite gold, her lighter coloring and delicate build make her look almost like a windclanner. it is larkcall's eyes that mark her as a cat from the shadows. guarded, and downcast she quietly observes the world with rich golden eyes. they never race across her surroundings, but slowly, thoughtfully absorb it all, because shadows rarely rush anything.
although some would consider larkcall "beautiful" others remark on her tiny frame. she might be long and medium sized, but she lacks the substance of a well fed warrior. ironically, this petite lady could eat three times her meager body weight in one sitting, she remains thin as a rail.
PERSONALITY!
Larkcall, like so many conscious beings, struggles with her confidence. she consistently feels a need to be precise as that gives her a distinct feeling of control, when all else seems to be falling apart. the primary issue here is not that her life is in shambles, but that she perceive any slight failure as a massive offense, further injuring her painfully low self esteem.
Despite her insecurity, larkcall is very kind and generally knows what to say to make other cats like her. this has come in handy in the past when she is found accidentally trespassing among rogue-infested locations, or those border crossing moments that every cat with any sense of curiosity experiences. her personable personality has its limits however, as larkcall's fatal flaw is logic. no one is safe from her logical forces, and this unfortunately makes the she-cat seem blunt and insensitive sometimes, when she is simply trying to "help" by giving her fellow felines the purely factual information. surprisingly, no cat enjoys being told their opinion is invalid based on situational flaws.... weird.
Like all ladies, miss larkcall craves the attention of a male. she so desperately wants to feel loved and accepted just as she tries to love and accept her clan members in hopes that it will somehow filter down to her. gentle as a midsummer breeze, she tends to miss out on the flirting opportunities as that would take personal, almost aggressive initiative. on the flipside, her genteel aura means is a fantastic observer. reconnaissance being her specialty, the graceful feline can swiftly and soundlessly gather information in a jiffy. her unremarkable way of living allows her to pass unnoticed in many useful circumstances.
HISTORY!
Larkcall earned her prefix due to the coloring of her pelt. it is remarkably similar in color to that of a lark. her mother was obviously brilliant. what is really significant here is her suffix. her shadowclan mates may identify her with quiet, effortless movements, but when anyone utters the name "larkcall" they immediately jump to her voice. larks seem to sustain an endless melody, one that turns many appreciative ears. larkpaw's mother couldn't have known that her daughter would conveniently have a lovely light voice as well.
Let's get this straight, cats can not sing, that would not only be super weird, but it is anatomically impossible. however, larkcall's voice could be alikened to music based on its shimmery lilt. crisp and clear, her rarely spoken words are like bright gems, glowing, and pulsing with brilliance. The few cats who have gotten her excited about anything can remark on the way she lights up and projects her emotions with such strength and feeling. her suffix suits her well, for like any forest bird, in order to remain elusive she mustn't chatter constantly, but when she does it is a lovely and welcome sound.
How exactly did this promising warrior get such a demure personality you might ask? I would too considering she was raised in shadowclan, where cunning and excellence are prized the most. well, larkcall is capable of cunning, her observational skills are exceptional, and she is absolutely excellent due to an unhealthy obsession with precision. the issue here is that she would rather watch the success of others. a part of that is genuine self-sacrificing kindness, but a big part of it is that larkcall is terrified of drawing attention to herself, because failing is one thing, but having others watch her mess up is completely different. having conditioned herself with this attitude for many moon it has become a major part of her personality, and hopefully one she can combat and grow through.
RP EXAMPLE!
Light spilled onto the sludgy expanse of undergrowth and foul-smelling water. the surface of the swamp was still, interrupted occasionally by mysterious bubbling or a thick ripple. those ripples were important, as some kind of animal caused it. well, not some kind of animal, because only a toad would enjoy living in the muck of the stale swamplands. Larkcall blinked slowly, her maw twisting wryly as she laughed at her own wit. she was a skilled hunter, as were all members of shadowclan, but this activity brought her such a strong sense of peace and pride. nothing could match the feeling of being completely centered and in tune with her flexing muscles. the beating of her heart pulsed alongside the breathing of the earth, and the next pop of a toad-filled bubble sent her racing across the stepping stones scattered among the sludge. if her apprenticeship had taught her anything it was finding these concealed pathways and avoiding the slippery moss at all costs. no feline in her right mind enjoyed licking musty, caking filth from her pelt. reasons to lay off on having kits, who somehow always managed to get covered in muck after every single romp.
silently careening towards the disturbance she timed her slip with expert precision. her mentor had taught her to check the rocks in this area frequently, to memorize their stability, a lesson that came in handy time and time again. the loosened boulder tapped the water testily, making Larkcall's prey leap to attention. flicking her paw out smartly the she-cat interrupted its escape mid-flight and daintily slammed the prey onto the stone beneath her. "Another clean kill," she cheerfully chirped, before picking up the morsel and prancing back to camp.
~Adopted by Midnightive~
NAME! Brightpaw.
AGE! 6 moons.
RANK! apprentice.
GENDER! f
CLAN! WindClan.
SHORT DESC.! A light ginger tabby and white she-cat with yellow eyes.
FULL DESCRIPTION!
PERSONALITY!
Brightpaw has a serious inferiority complex, and compounded with her fierce competitiveness, it really does set herself up for failure. While she's not a natural worrier, she does spend a lot of time putting herself down and criticizing her actions. Even when she succeeds, there's always that voice in her head telling her that she's still not good enough, that she needs to do better.
Brightpaw is also a perfectionist up into levels of crazy. She has to be the best, and works herself to the bone to get there. She wakes up at the crack of dawn every day and puts 100% into everything she does. She refuses to acknowledge that her body has limits, and instead regards "limits" as more obstacles for her to get past. Every so often her exhaustion catches up with her, and on those days she's even harder on herself for needing to rest.
Super fun not on Brightpaw: she is incredibly shy. I mean, she is so shy that she loses the ability to form audible words in the company of others, unless she knows them really well and they're not being mean to her. So most of the time she's silent and allows her body language to speak for her. It's been working out so far.
HISTORY!
Brightpaw's parents thought they were in love. Perhaps her mother really had been. But soon after she was pregnant with kits, they had a falling out. It was a fight so nasty that the deputy had to break it up. Brightpaw's father began courting another she-cat, and Brightpaw's mother was crushed.
Then the kits were born early. Due to the stress of the pregnancy, Brightpaw was the only kit to survive the night. Brightpaw's mother spent the next six months cautioning Brightpaw not to trust the kind words of other males or else she would have her heart broken.
Brightpaw's father didn't like to be reminded that he had a daughter, and Brightpaw quickly learned to avoid him entirely. He loved enumerating her faults for her and insisting that she would be an inept warrior. Every time she got in trouble or messed up, he would call her a failure, or else blame her mother. The few times she did something someone praised her for, suddenly it was because his blood in her veins had finally done something right.
Rabies took him shortly before Brightpaw was apprenticed. In a deep, dark place in her heart she'll never admit that she has, she was relieved.
RP EXAMPLE!
Wind buffeted her ears, but she kept the rest of her still as stone. Other apprentices had trouble keeping their tails from twitching when they were on the hunt; bad habits picked up from kithood. She didn't. Control oozed from her every pore, straightening her senses into finely tuned weapons. Wind blew the strong scent of rabbit to her hiding spot in a thin clump of scraggly bushes, and she strained her ears to ear her prey.
She didn't. She saw it first, bounding her way like its life depended on it. Which it did; her hunting partner appeared over the hill just behind the rabbit, hard on its tail. The rabbit zig-zagged right toward her hiding spot, trusting its nose to alert it to more danger. But lucky for Brightpaw, the wind didn't shift. She burst from the bush in a flash of tawny and white and fastened her teeth into the rabbit's neck, just missing the spine. The rabbit thrashed wildly, but she held on with her claws and aimed another bite.
"What a sloppy kill," her hunting partner observed. "Better not give that one to the elders. But hey, a kill's a kill. Someone will eat well tonight."
Her earlier confidence slipped away like water over rocks. I need to practice more, she thought. That was a sloppy kill. She just nodded to her partner, grateful for the lack of harsh criticism. She was hard enough on herself as it was.
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