Post by squirrel on Jan 3, 2008 2:18:27 GMT -5
Meh. I need a character that will at some point require killing off. =D
Name: Hawkwing
Age: 45 moons
Rank: Deputy
Clan: GustClan
Physical Description:
Hawkwing is an extremely dark brown tabby tomcat. His shoulders are wide and battle-scarred, as are his torn and ripped ears. His thick tail is zig-zagged with black stripes of fur like the darkest night. His eyes are watchful and careful: a dark, cold and sinister green. Like poision in it's depths, his gaze petrifies even the boldest apprentice into silence at his glare. Hawkwing's pelt looks of the darkest and deepest brown, the stripes blacker than the blackest black: a lightless color. His paws are large and rounded, his long, large and curved claws nearly always out and more powerful than the sharpest object. His underbelly is mainly blackened, though, because of the mass of stripes there. His voice is deep, dark and sinister.
Personality:
Besides the fact that Hawkwing hates and is disgusted by the other Clans and their apparent lack of fighting will, Hawkwing would love to take over the Clans with his blackened and bloody claws. He could care less for the other Clans and their warriors. He only wishes to make his Clan the most powerful, and to eventually rule with a group of elite warriors and a powerful alliance with the darkest warriors. His life is focused on finding a henchman of sorts, a warrior he could bully around easily, but keep secrets. But, even though he must trust this position to someone, he will never fully trust his Clan, not even the elders. Kits, he could only care about if they were his apprentice, and to the fact that they will someday be as strong as possible. Within his thoughts there is nothing but darkness, not even StarClan could tell him that he is too dangerous to his Clan.
History:
Born just like any other kit, Hawkwing's destiny was to be viewed by the medicine cat, by his mother's choice. But, it could not be determined by a worried medicine cat and an anxious mother. They didn't speak of the darkness in the kit, nor of the blood-stained life he would lead. Yes, he would indeed lead a life of some sort, that much was clear, but for how long would he life in darkness, shrouded by hate and ambitious intent? He clawed his way to warriorship in a secretive fashion, killing no one of his Clan, but defeating others in battle and pretending to care about his Clanmates. When their old leader died, and Flightstar was given her nine lives, he sat there, and waited until moonhigh when the new leader would come out and announce the new deputy of their Clan. As soon as the place was clear, he became more thirsty for battle: he attacked a Clanmate that had provoked him, and killed him outside of camp, innocently claiming that they were attacked by a group of rouges.
Since then, Hawkwing has stalked the night, watching, and waiting, for the perfect chance to strike.
Role Play Example:
The dark brown tabby tomcat padded foward, his large paws letting soft thudding sounds on the forest floor.
He stopped, his large poision green eyes narrowed with thought as he opened his mouth to sniff the dark night air.
There was nothing.
With a low growling sound, he sped up, his scarred ears back against his head.
Where was he? No--he knew, he just relished in the fact that he was there again. No prey-scent came to him. Nothing but the darkest of night greeted him within the confines of the dead oak forest.
The fungus on the tree's bark glowed with a sickly green color, but he didn't care.
"It is I, Hawkwing, who shall bring power to the forest!" he hissed out, his deep dark voice echoing into the darkness.
Other: None. :3
Name: Hawkwing
Age: 45 moons
Rank: Deputy
Clan: GustClan
Physical Description:
Hawkwing is an extremely dark brown tabby tomcat. His shoulders are wide and battle-scarred, as are his torn and ripped ears. His thick tail is zig-zagged with black stripes of fur like the darkest night. His eyes are watchful and careful: a dark, cold and sinister green. Like poision in it's depths, his gaze petrifies even the boldest apprentice into silence at his glare. Hawkwing's pelt looks of the darkest and deepest brown, the stripes blacker than the blackest black: a lightless color. His paws are large and rounded, his long, large and curved claws nearly always out and more powerful than the sharpest object. His underbelly is mainly blackened, though, because of the mass of stripes there. His voice is deep, dark and sinister.
Personality:
Besides the fact that Hawkwing hates and is disgusted by the other Clans and their apparent lack of fighting will, Hawkwing would love to take over the Clans with his blackened and bloody claws. He could care less for the other Clans and their warriors. He only wishes to make his Clan the most powerful, and to eventually rule with a group of elite warriors and a powerful alliance with the darkest warriors. His life is focused on finding a henchman of sorts, a warrior he could bully around easily, but keep secrets. But, even though he must trust this position to someone, he will never fully trust his Clan, not even the elders. Kits, he could only care about if they were his apprentice, and to the fact that they will someday be as strong as possible. Within his thoughts there is nothing but darkness, not even StarClan could tell him that he is too dangerous to his Clan.
History:
Born just like any other kit, Hawkwing's destiny was to be viewed by the medicine cat, by his mother's choice. But, it could not be determined by a worried medicine cat and an anxious mother. They didn't speak of the darkness in the kit, nor of the blood-stained life he would lead. Yes, he would indeed lead a life of some sort, that much was clear, but for how long would he life in darkness, shrouded by hate and ambitious intent? He clawed his way to warriorship in a secretive fashion, killing no one of his Clan, but defeating others in battle and pretending to care about his Clanmates. When their old leader died, and Flightstar was given her nine lives, he sat there, and waited until moonhigh when the new leader would come out and announce the new deputy of their Clan. As soon as the place was clear, he became more thirsty for battle: he attacked a Clanmate that had provoked him, and killed him outside of camp, innocently claiming that they were attacked by a group of rouges.
Since then, Hawkwing has stalked the night, watching, and waiting, for the perfect chance to strike.
Role Play Example:
The dark brown tabby tomcat padded foward, his large paws letting soft thudding sounds on the forest floor.
He stopped, his large poision green eyes narrowed with thought as he opened his mouth to sniff the dark night air.
There was nothing.
With a low growling sound, he sped up, his scarred ears back against his head.
Where was he? No--he knew, he just relished in the fact that he was there again. No prey-scent came to him. Nothing but the darkest of night greeted him within the confines of the dead oak forest.
The fungus on the tree's bark glowed with a sickly green color, but he didn't care.
"It is I, Hawkwing, who shall bring power to the forest!" he hissed out, his deep dark voice echoing into the darkness.
Other: None. :3
