Post by valkyrie on Apr 15, 2015 13:27:24 GMT -5
Name: Sarge > Spottedpaw > Spottedstorm
Sex: Tom
Age: 73 moons [6 years]
Clan: SunClan
Rank: Warrior
Eye Colour: Copper
Reference: www.flickr.com/photos/tailedtit/14039564259 - A large white tom with patches of brown fur and copper eyes; missing tail.
Strength: 5
Defense: 4
Agility: 2
Stealth: 1
Tracking: 2
Personality: Spottedstorm has very intense emotions that can swing wildly to and fro with little warning. Most of the time, he is boisterous, with an easy laugh that can often be heard as far as past the camp walls. But one word said wrong can set him baring his teeth with hackles bristling, only to have him laugh off the whole affair moments later.
Spottedstorm is also a powerhouse in battle. With his large frame and heavy muscles, he deals hard blows and can take a lot of hits before going down. However, he is rather slow, and not stealthy in the least. Because of a one track mind, he can be difficult to work with as a partner in battle.
History: Life began for Sarge as a loner-that-was-sometimes-a-kittypet. His mother Molly was a stray cat who had left her cushy kittypet life after her housefolk had had a kit of their own. She was still young when she escaped, and with all the preparation for their baby, her housefolk never got around to spaying her, which was a mixed blessing. As stray cats often do, it wasn't long before Molly found herself pregnant. She had no experience being a mother, as she was taken from hers at a young age, but she was caring and certainly could not leave these little ones alone to die. There was Sarge, who most closely resembled his father, as well as two sisters, Mouse and Fluff. They were born in the first warm days of newleaf in a quiet garden where no other cats lived.
The kits had a simple life, playing with each other and keeping company while their mother was out searching for food. It was rare Molly brought back fresh-kill. She was relying purely on hunting instinct with no training and very little success. Instead, once the kits were weaned off milk, she taught them how to beg for food from housefolk, and what to look for inside their bins. Sarge grew up mostly on kittypet food and sucking up to the housefolk to feed him, though being very careful to never go inside their dens.
As the kits grew older, they began wandering farther and farther from their mother's side, and eventually never seeing her again. They did much the same with each other. It wasn't long after they separated when Sarge's accident happened. He was crouched at the edge of a housefolk path inside the town proper one day, rooting through a bag of trash for food, when a housefolk riding a quiet monster [bicycle] sped past him and right over his tail. He yowled and tried to pull his bruised tail away, only for it to be smashed again and ripped slightly by the second wheel. It hurt oh so terribly, and oozed blood for a long time. Most of his tail was now useless, as it hurt far too much to try and move, and it dragged limply across the ground. Not having the energy to root through the trash anymore, young Sarge returned to begging for the dry stuff outside the housefolk dens. When one of the housefolk saw him, they tried to capture him. He evaded them, at least for a while. Eventually they managed to hold him down while they applied some nasty smelling and tasting goop to his broken tail. He didn't know it, but this was medical ointment to fight the infection from his tail. Finally, after nearly three moons of it being worthless and aching, the tail fell off.
It was very shortly after he lost his tail when he began wandering around the edges of the forest in SunClan territory. He had been poking around for about half a moon before he ran into a patrol. After a quick chat and curious about clan life, Sarge decided to accompany the patrol back to camp. They explained to him their ways, and he very much wanted the company, so he agreed to join them. He was old when he became an apprentice - 10 moons old - but as he had no knowledge of hunting and running as clan cats did, he went through the full training process, becoming Spottedpaw for the spots of brown among the white of his fur. He was 17 moons old when he earned his warrior name as Spottedstorm, in a nod to his unpredictable nature and intense emotions. He went on to train two apprentices into full warriors themselves, and he could never be prouder. In the beginning he had joined SunClan for the company and protection, but now he is a loyal Clan cat through and through.
Heritage: Molly (mother) Brown tabby bicolor; Cadet (father) White and brown spotted; Mouse (sister) Brown tabby bicolor; Fluff (sister) White
Role-Play Example:
"What did you just call me?" the other she-cat hissed from her own side of the border. Mothstep leaned forward; the two were barely a whisker apart.
"I said, "You snooty, arrogant, spoiled, bratty piece of fox-hearted mouse-dung." She enunciated each word clearly and slowly. "Maybe I should add 'simple' to that list?"
The white she-cat had had enough. Yowling, she lunged over the short distance, claws extended, and bowled into the tortie. Mothstep had been expecting her Clanmates to stop her, and so was unprepared for the attack. She tumbled back with an 'oof' as the heavier MistClan cat knocked the air from her chest. Teeth sinking into her ear made her sit up and take notice. Distantly, she could hear the sounds of both sides of the patrols going at it: snarls and hisses, cries of pain as claws tore through flesh. But Mothstep was more focused on clearing her vision of white fur. She was smaller, and tried using that to her advantage to wriggle out from under the other cat. It was difficult and it hurt, because she would not let go of her ear. At least half of it had to of come away. Blood streamed down the side of her face and into the corner of her eye, but she danced away from the other she-cat before facing her opponent.
"Oh yeah, run away," the MistClan warrior taunted. "Everyone knows PineClan are just a bunch of cowards."
Growling in frustration, Mothstep lunged forward to claw at her opponent's side before darting away again. But her claws hit no flesh: MistClan cats' coats were too thick. She tried this move a few more times desperately, shying to the side before the larger warrior could pin her down again. But it took a lot of energy, and she was soon panting. "Getting tired, are we?" Mothstep shook the blood from her vision and rushed her. It was a bold move, and one she likely couldn't pull off unless her opponent wasn't expecting it. Unfortunately, she was. The white warrior grabbed Mothstep and they twisted into a mass of flying fur and spitting hisses. The tortiseshell tried to get her claws through the other's dense fur, but they only managed to get snagged. She was treated to a fine beating, scratches and bites covering every inch of her. They rolled and tumbled, unaware of how dangerously close to the river they were. Suddenly, the soft ground of the cliff bank gave way. They were falling, slipping and sliding across the mud, when Mothstep was jerked to a sudden and painful halt. Someone had grabbed her scruff and was now dragging her back to the top of the cliff and solid ground. Panting in fear, the she-cat looked around when she was safe again. It had been Blacktooth that had saved her. Most of the other cats from the patrols, of both clans, were staring out over the river desperately. Mothstep scrambled back to the edge to see as well. They were close to the island; maybe she could wash ashore and be fine. They all stood there for what seemed like forever, watching the swirling eddies in the dark water, and the growing shadows on the island in the distance. But no white shape appeared. One of the MistClan patrol spun to the PineClan cats.
"We will get retribution for Snowleap," he snarled, glaring right at the young Mothstep. Spitting angrily, he gestured to his clanmates and they returned deeper into their territory.
Blacktooth nudged Mothstep gently. "Come on," he meowed quietly. "We have to go home too."
She felt cold, far away, as if this was a horrible dream. In her mind's eye, all she could see was a greusome shape floating down the river, body bloated and soaked, tumbling down the waterfall that shielded the MistClan camp, Snowleap's Clanmates emerging just to see her broken body sitting there. Blacktooth nosed her again, and Mothstep stood reluctantly. He led her and the rest of the patrol back to the PineClan camp with his tail draped across her shoulders. She didn't even see where she was going.
"Listen," Blacktooth murmured to her as the rest of the patrol entered camp to report to Badgerstar. "It was an accident, ok? It wasn't your fault." She could hear his words, but couldn't process them. Her mind was spiraling down into a dark place and she wasn't sure she could ever get back out of it again.
Referral : Talbot?
Sex: Tom
Age: 73 moons [6 years]
Clan: SunClan
Rank: Warrior
Eye Colour: Copper
Reference: www.flickr.com/photos/tailedtit/14039564259 - A large white tom with patches of brown fur and copper eyes; missing tail.
Strength: 5
Defense: 4
Agility: 2
Stealth: 1
Tracking: 2
Personality: Spottedstorm has very intense emotions that can swing wildly to and fro with little warning. Most of the time, he is boisterous, with an easy laugh that can often be heard as far as past the camp walls. But one word said wrong can set him baring his teeth with hackles bristling, only to have him laugh off the whole affair moments later.
Spottedstorm is also a powerhouse in battle. With his large frame and heavy muscles, he deals hard blows and can take a lot of hits before going down. However, he is rather slow, and not stealthy in the least. Because of a one track mind, he can be difficult to work with as a partner in battle.
History: Life began for Sarge as a loner-that-was-sometimes-a-kittypet. His mother Molly was a stray cat who had left her cushy kittypet life after her housefolk had had a kit of their own. She was still young when she escaped, and with all the preparation for their baby, her housefolk never got around to spaying her, which was a mixed blessing. As stray cats often do, it wasn't long before Molly found herself pregnant. She had no experience being a mother, as she was taken from hers at a young age, but she was caring and certainly could not leave these little ones alone to die. There was Sarge, who most closely resembled his father, as well as two sisters, Mouse and Fluff. They were born in the first warm days of newleaf in a quiet garden where no other cats lived.
The kits had a simple life, playing with each other and keeping company while their mother was out searching for food. It was rare Molly brought back fresh-kill. She was relying purely on hunting instinct with no training and very little success. Instead, once the kits were weaned off milk, she taught them how to beg for food from housefolk, and what to look for inside their bins. Sarge grew up mostly on kittypet food and sucking up to the housefolk to feed him, though being very careful to never go inside their dens.
As the kits grew older, they began wandering farther and farther from their mother's side, and eventually never seeing her again. They did much the same with each other. It wasn't long after they separated when Sarge's accident happened. He was crouched at the edge of a housefolk path inside the town proper one day, rooting through a bag of trash for food, when a housefolk riding a quiet monster [bicycle] sped past him and right over his tail. He yowled and tried to pull his bruised tail away, only for it to be smashed again and ripped slightly by the second wheel. It hurt oh so terribly, and oozed blood for a long time. Most of his tail was now useless, as it hurt far too much to try and move, and it dragged limply across the ground. Not having the energy to root through the trash anymore, young Sarge returned to begging for the dry stuff outside the housefolk dens. When one of the housefolk saw him, they tried to capture him. He evaded them, at least for a while. Eventually they managed to hold him down while they applied some nasty smelling and tasting goop to his broken tail. He didn't know it, but this was medical ointment to fight the infection from his tail. Finally, after nearly three moons of it being worthless and aching, the tail fell off.
It was very shortly after he lost his tail when he began wandering around the edges of the forest in SunClan territory. He had been poking around for about half a moon before he ran into a patrol. After a quick chat and curious about clan life, Sarge decided to accompany the patrol back to camp. They explained to him their ways, and he very much wanted the company, so he agreed to join them. He was old when he became an apprentice - 10 moons old - but as he had no knowledge of hunting and running as clan cats did, he went through the full training process, becoming Spottedpaw for the spots of brown among the white of his fur. He was 17 moons old when he earned his warrior name as Spottedstorm, in a nod to his unpredictable nature and intense emotions. He went on to train two apprentices into full warriors themselves, and he could never be prouder. In the beginning he had joined SunClan for the company and protection, but now he is a loyal Clan cat through and through.
Heritage: Molly (mother) Brown tabby bicolor; Cadet (father) White and brown spotted; Mouse (sister) Brown tabby bicolor; Fluff (sister) White
Role-Play Example:
"What did you just call me?" the other she-cat hissed from her own side of the border. Mothstep leaned forward; the two were barely a whisker apart.
"I said, "You snooty, arrogant, spoiled, bratty piece of fox-hearted mouse-dung." She enunciated each word clearly and slowly. "Maybe I should add 'simple' to that list?"
The white she-cat had had enough. Yowling, she lunged over the short distance, claws extended, and bowled into the tortie. Mothstep had been expecting her Clanmates to stop her, and so was unprepared for the attack. She tumbled back with an 'oof' as the heavier MistClan cat knocked the air from her chest. Teeth sinking into her ear made her sit up and take notice. Distantly, she could hear the sounds of both sides of the patrols going at it: snarls and hisses, cries of pain as claws tore through flesh. But Mothstep was more focused on clearing her vision of white fur. She was smaller, and tried using that to her advantage to wriggle out from under the other cat. It was difficult and it hurt, because she would not let go of her ear. At least half of it had to of come away. Blood streamed down the side of her face and into the corner of her eye, but she danced away from the other she-cat before facing her opponent.
"Oh yeah, run away," the MistClan warrior taunted. "Everyone knows PineClan are just a bunch of cowards."
Growling in frustration, Mothstep lunged forward to claw at her opponent's side before darting away again. But her claws hit no flesh: MistClan cats' coats were too thick. She tried this move a few more times desperately, shying to the side before the larger warrior could pin her down again. But it took a lot of energy, and she was soon panting. "Getting tired, are we?" Mothstep shook the blood from her vision and rushed her. It was a bold move, and one she likely couldn't pull off unless her opponent wasn't expecting it. Unfortunately, she was. The white warrior grabbed Mothstep and they twisted into a mass of flying fur and spitting hisses. The tortiseshell tried to get her claws through the other's dense fur, but they only managed to get snagged. She was treated to a fine beating, scratches and bites covering every inch of her. They rolled and tumbled, unaware of how dangerously close to the river they were. Suddenly, the soft ground of the cliff bank gave way. They were falling, slipping and sliding across the mud, when Mothstep was jerked to a sudden and painful halt. Someone had grabbed her scruff and was now dragging her back to the top of the cliff and solid ground. Panting in fear, the she-cat looked around when she was safe again. It had been Blacktooth that had saved her. Most of the other cats from the patrols, of both clans, were staring out over the river desperately. Mothstep scrambled back to the edge to see as well. They were close to the island; maybe she could wash ashore and be fine. They all stood there for what seemed like forever, watching the swirling eddies in the dark water, and the growing shadows on the island in the distance. But no white shape appeared. One of the MistClan patrol spun to the PineClan cats.
"We will get retribution for Snowleap," he snarled, glaring right at the young Mothstep. Spitting angrily, he gestured to his clanmates and they returned deeper into their territory.
Blacktooth nudged Mothstep gently. "Come on," he meowed quietly. "We have to go home too."
She felt cold, far away, as if this was a horrible dream. In her mind's eye, all she could see was a greusome shape floating down the river, body bloated and soaked, tumbling down the waterfall that shielded the MistClan camp, Snowleap's Clanmates emerging just to see her broken body sitting there. Blacktooth nosed her again, and Mothstep stood reluctantly. He led her and the rest of the patrol back to the PineClan camp with his tail draped across her shoulders. She didn't even see where she was going.
"Listen," Blacktooth murmured to her as the rest of the patrol entered camp to report to Badgerstar. "It was an accident, ok? It wasn't your fault." She could hear his words, but couldn't process them. Her mind was spiraling down into a dark place and she wasn't sure she could ever get back out of it again.
Referral : Talbot?
