Post by D I R E on Dec 21, 2010 23:53:06 GMT -5
Palesmoke
A tortoiseshell cat with smoky black fur and pale yellow eyes.
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Age: 47 moons
Gender: Female
Rank: Leader
Clan: Reedclan
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Appearance: (at least 150 words)
Pelt: Her coat is a pale tortoiseshell pattern, dominantly black and gray with a few patches of pale orange. Like most Reedclan cat’s her fur is thick, double-coated but short, it does not gleam however like most cats. It is covered in old battle scars, particularly on her arms and shoulders. Though none of the scars are noticeable they blend in with her fur. The tips of her fur are pale grey giving her a smoky appearance. With her orange colored fur it is a tabby pattern, though the black and grey are not. The orange is mostly seen upon her face and her forearms, smaller patches appear on her body. All of her tail is dark grey with the tip being black.
Build: The she-cat is sturdy, compact and strong. She is an average sized, tending to be more on the short side than large. Her shoulders are small but thick with muscle; the front half of her body is bigger, more muscular than her rear. Back legs are set higher up than her front half which gives her more propelling force, making her a formidable foe in battle. Ears are rounded short and close to her head, they are difficult for a cat to bite during a fight. The she-cat has a round, small head which is placed up a thick neck; she does not have as much turning capabilities as other cats thought she makes up for it in her long claws. Both front and back claws are thick, long and deadly sharp, they are more curved allowing her to dig into things though it is difficult for her to pull out.
Face: She is a striking she-cat, a strong square face, with a powerful jaw. Her whiskers are like silver thread, thin, long and few. They reach out several inches from her face. Perhaps the most striking thing on her face are his very pale yellow eyes, oval eyes are lined by black causing them to stand out. The color almost matches the orange in his fur. In fact one side of her face is orange tabby and the other is the dark grey and blacks. Her nose is long and narrow with black coloring. Her short fur cannot cover the few scars on her face; she has three that are distinct. One on the corner of her left eyes, one across her nose and the other from her ear to the side of the jaw.
Personality: (at least 150 words)
Scarred for Life: Palesmoke is a fighter, she enjoys the rush of adrenaline, however she will not cause fights for the sole purpose of fighting. Though she does not understand why cats have no pride for killing prey or enemies. She trusts that her killing was meant for the greater good, for her leader and for her clanmates. Most problems have only one clear solution, to fight and destroy. Compromising should always be the last solution, if a cat cannot fight for her clan than she isn’t worth listening to. Palesmoke has realized that cats only follow strength and that she must set an example.
Never make a choice you’ll regret: She believes that every decision has a consequence and in order to have a less severe one the choices have to be carefully thought out. She dislikes repetition so she always makes sure to have a job done in one try, she will often become impatient when she is forced to repeat tasks. So she plans everything out meticulously, she will accomplish one task at a time. Multitasking, so she believes will cause distractions and the jobs will be done half-assed. She doesn’t care how long it takes her, she will always do a task perfectly, whether its hunting, assigning apprentices to clean out elder’s den, arrange for moss gathering or performing an assessment.
Wizened like an Oak tree: Honestly she is a grouchy mean old cat, with a heart buried so deep inside that it hasn’t been see by any cat it a long time. She holds much respect for authority which often allows her to take out her anger in little outburst at younger cats. Not that she would ever do anything cruel but they need to be taught a lesson every now and again. She sees it as her duty to teach the younger cats how to be excellent warriors, never to slack in a task, always respect those above you and most of all to never speak back to her. She has, once or twice, been known to attack with a soft blow to very persistent cats, seeing that physical punishment can be the only solution.
Smoke, transparent and thick: The she-cat protects her private life vehemently, though she doesn’t have much of one, you’ll never catch her sharing a story with an apprentice about her training. Though in reality the she-cat has no ambitions for power, she is obedient almost to the point of being blind. His heart truly believes in Starclan, he follows the warrior’s code strictly believing that Starclan placed it there to be obeyed, however he is willing under extreme circumstance to bend the rules. Never break them. She is stubborn in idea that rules are meant to be followed, bend on occasional, never broken. She will follow a leader; never question them unless they start to disobey Starclan. Then she will begin to question her leader, torn between her loyalty to her clan and the loyalty to Starclan and the warrior code.
History: (at least 150 words)
She was born to a little of three, all toms, thus began her adventure into violence. They were equally rough as kittens; she however was the middle kit so she was neither extremely violent like her elder brother nor vindictive like her younger. Palesmoke brothers were Thistlekit and Bearkit. They were always doing something mischievous, however they always followed Thistlekit. It was never Palesmoke who went off and did things, she was a follower. Once, when they were 3 moons all three of them went down to river, trying to scare off the Two-Legs that camped near them. They couldn’t even cross the river, their father had to come and rescue them. Afterward Palesmoke grew hesitant to ever disobey the rules because had almost died on that river. Her eldest brother Thistlepaw made it into apprenticeship but died a violent death when he tried to take on a dog. Palesmoke and her brother Bearpaw went with Thistlepaw only to watch his brother die a horrible death, Bearpaw ran before he saw Thistlepaw actually die, Palesmoke, unable to leave her brother, watched him die. It was then that Palesmoke decided that only violence could have stopped that dog from attacking, that no matter how much you beg and cry that only violence can make things happen. She grew up quickly in that moment, taking care of her younger brother. At first her apprenticeship went smoothly, her mentor was a patient but fierce she-cat and she even fell in love. However Palesmoke was loved by everyone. At that point Bearpaw was a vindictive cruel cat who’d been bullied all his life, he hated Palesmoke for taking away everyone’s love. Bearpaw fought Palesmoke, when Bearpaw lost he ran away, but not before scaring Palesmoke’s face. Afterwards she was deeply disturbed by her brothers, one dead and the other left. However she didn’t let it distract her from her training, she became a warrior a little earlier than usual. She received his name Palesmoke because the tips of her fur were grey like smoke. Even when she became a warrior she had a difficult time ever growing close to other cats, ever since her brother died. Determined to protect the clan from danger she concentrated on training rather than forming relationships.
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Roleplay Sample:
A wretched scent permeated the air, piercing the rotten boxes, slithering past the garbage and embracing the plants. Piles of junk filled the carrion place with foreboding intimidation. Clan cats never wandered here let alone loners or rogues. Rats the size of apprentices called it home, littering the junk yard with feces, bones and dead rat carcasses. The sun hardly shone here it was shaded by a hills and knarred twisted trees that grinned evilly at passersby. Death lived here, living in each and every rat. They would stalk anyone here in their territory, ravage and maul them to death. Sometime they’d leave leftovers, whether it is cat, mouse or dog. Whispers of a white ghost were told among them. At night it would hover down the dead flesh and eat with its red eyes reflecting at those who watched. Picking itself up a red stain at the mouth of its white fur, left and suddenly vanished behind a cardboard box. A cackling laugh could be heard rarely at midnight, when the gathering of the clan cats occurred.
Tiny boxes built up to form a large one, in the center laid a dirty white cat. Its maw dyed red from blood. As she slept one of her blue eyes remained open, to watch the world as she laid in a sleeping death. Maggot never had a home. She was born here in the Carrion place, hardly remembering her kitten hood. Her mother fed her milk tainted with rotten meat. When she learned to eat meat her mother was gone. Leaving her to wander around, scavenging for food, not knowing the difference between partially rotten and fresh meat. It was all food to her, delicious red meat that filled her belly. Other cats would come here in desperation. Red eyes would watch from afar desiring to play with the cat but when she drew near they would runaway or become hostile and attack. Never been taught to fight she resorted to dirty fighting, scratching out eyes, throwing up rotten carcasses at them, and pushing them into the rat’s nest.
Only once had she talked to a cat. A young kittypet had strayed too far from her home. Pretty little white paws became sullied by the mud, her orange face was terrified but she was determined to find a way back. As usual Maggot watched then approached, grinning with a crooked toothy smile.
“Hello there.” Her voice hardly used was harsh, sounding like metal scratching against metal. The she-cat had turned around and shuddered an, “Oh! You-you surprised me. Can you help me, please? I’m trying to get home but I’m lost.” The young she-cat wailed, gone was her fear for Maggot because she was more terrified of the prospect of never getting home. Maggot watched her avidly, hardly listening to her. It was another cat! A breathing one that she could touch, not another one of her horrible hallucinations, “Yeah, yeah sure!” But first, she thought slyly, she can stay just a little longer. “This way is the way out.“She led her to her den amongst the boxes. The orange cat followed close behind, feeling sickness rumble in her stomach. Mistaking that for a rumble of hunger Maggot immediately turned to the right leading her to where the rats abandon old prey. A swarm of flies clustered around a dead mouse with half of its meat eaten away. Sweet smell of death horrified the young Kittypet, she glanced at the meat and at Maggot whose grin had never once faded. She assumed that she was in danger and fled, screaming at Maggot. “Your brain is rotted! You’re horrible and disgusting just like a maggot eating dead things!” And with that Maggot learned her name.
Still asleep in the box, tiny voices of kitten whispering to her of things untold and things that have never happened. Maggot started to hate cats. They left her when she offered kindness, food and shelter. She couldn’t miss their looks of contempt and disgust at her home. It hurt deeply and she began to recede inwards. Purposefully leading the cat’s deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the carrion place to abandon them deep inside. Curling her short tail around her paws her eyes began to open. To her left a shimmering image of her mother stood smile. Her calico body was plump, whenever Maggot felt lonely her mother would appear. Nameless and soothing, the only one who would talk to her.
“Morning mother, it’s a beautiful today isn’t it? The she-cat nodded and smiled softly. Maggot satisfied at the greeting stood up. Stretching her dirty legs. A hole above her gaped open like a mouth ready to swallow, she leapt up. Standing above the carrionplace’s entrance she began to wash herself, preparing for a day of hunting of mice who had wandered into the wrong place. A bright blue butterfly flew close to her head. She watched it fly around. It was breathtakingly beautiful, the only color in this dreary brown world. Blue against the black sludge, she felt calmness in herself, her mother began to fade behind her. Closer and closer it flew to her face and it landed right in front of her. She smiled and slashed out at the butterfly, killing it. Between her paws laid a little blue gem, dying quickly. Her attention was soon preoccupied as she sliced out the wings so be saved in her den.
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Not sure, but perhaps I can be leader of Reedclan?
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