Post by streamy on Jan 17, 2008 18:24:33 GMT -5
Name:
Thistlepaw
Age:
8 moons
Rank:
Apprentice
Clan:
HailClan
Physical Description:
Thistlepaw is going to grow up to be rather muscular in a kind of feminine way -- like a dancer would be, if she were a human. Her legs will be long and well-developed, with a long muzzle and small, neat ears accentuating her fairly-pretty face. Her paws are small and dainty, perfect for the elegance in which she moves. She's not exactly an absolutely stunning specimen, but she's certainly quite pleasing to the eye.
Her fur is brown-ginger tabby and white, the tabby markings on her cheeks, across the top of her head and along her back to her tail, where black tabby stripes take up most of the fur. The brown is in the middle of these patches, fading to ginger on the edges and eventually into white on her paws, nose and underside of her muzzle and her stomach. Her legs, while mostly white, have a few patches of black stripes and brown-ginger tabby -- especially on her back legs, as if someone has flicked her fur with a paintbrush.
Her eyes are a golden-brown colour, and to be honest aren't really special other than the fact that they're not the usual green colour.
Personality:
Thistlepaw's social skills are not exactly her strong point, and she sort of struggles to make friends with cats her own age (although she gets along fine with the warriors, queens and elders). In fact, half of the time the rest of the apprentices in WindClan probably don't even realize she's there, which would make her a good eavesdropper...
Which she does! She likes to listen on other cat's conversations, and although she can keep secrets very well, she just likes to know what's going on within her own Clan. She's very curious, but extremely passive about it, if you get what I mean.
She adores going to the elders' den and even cleaning out their fur, as they tell her amazing stories about Clan history. They sometimes even share their food with her, and she always comes out in a good mood. Thistlepaw also socializes well with the nursery kits, who adore her.
Her friends, as mentioned earlier, are mostly the elders and kits. She doesn't really have any her own age.
Her family is all deceased.
Thistlepaw has no love life, as she's barely even seven moons old.
Despite her prickly namesake, Thistlepaw is surprisingly sweet -- she's polite to those more mature and experienced than her, and listens to everybody with a seemingly endless patience. Her shy optimism can brighten almost any cat's day, although her optimism is sometimes a little bit unrealistic. 'A little bit' meaning 'a lot', but really, it's not all that bad... !
Thistlepaw, as mentioned earlier, is extremely shy and quiet -- never speaking except when directly spoken to, she's never sure when it's the right time to voice her opinion on something.
Thistlepaw isn't exactly the best fighter. Her size greatly disadvantages her, because oftentimes her opponent will pin her down. She's had a few close occasions, but thankfully she got out of most of her sticky situations--unlike her siblings.
One good thing is that Thistlepaw is swift and silent in her fighting. It helps her sneak up on opponents and surprise them.
Thistlepaw is going to grow up to be a skilled warrior -- although she's not very good with hunting in groups, working solo she is swift and graceful, always bringing back prey to her Clan. While she's not quite as good at fighting [as mentioned], sometimes her small size advantages her due to her quickness.
History:
Thistlepaw's history is slightly unexciting, as her parents were both pure-bred HailClan cats and weren't really that special either. Both of them had a fairly normal life and fell in love slowly when they were warriors Her father was quite a bit older than her mother, though, which caused a little bit of a stir in the Clan until they had their first litter of kits, after which it died down a little and became rather normal. Thistlepaw's mother, Duskstep, was particularly thankful for this, as she had never liked making a scene. Her mate, however, still has the bad habit of arguing with any cat stupid enough to make any comments.
They had four kits, one being stillborn and the other three all perfectly healthy. Two she-cats and one tom, they all grew up quite normally;
Thistlepaw was the shyer one who never put a paw out of line, Rushingpaw, the fierce protector of his sister and Soaringpaw, who... er, well, stared into the sky and never seemed at all there with the rest of the Clan. Soaringpaw -- well, then Soaringkit -- was always getting himself into situations which Thistlekit and Rushingkit had to pull him out of. Not like they minded, because they got to stay out playing for longer then!
All of them were recently apprenticed, with the determination to all become warriors at the same time -- they swore on it!
Then, in a very recent battle, Soaringpaw and Rushingpaw met their tragic fates. A giant warrior killed Soaringpaw mercilessly when she was staring at the battle, shocked, and Thistlepaw got him back for that by running after and fatally injuring him. Rushingpaw died bravely in fierce battle with a young warrior. Thistlepaw was quite depressed after that battle, as one could probably guess, but she soon got over it with help from the elders, who had lost many in their long lives.
Role Play Example:
Crickets sang; owls hooted. The wind blew rather loudly, whistling through the oaks and elms. A lone figure sat on a cluster of large boulders, looking up into the sky. The stars tonight were incredible--one could count thousands. For once the clouds did not cover the moon, which was also lucky as the huge silvery globe was full. Nature was at its best today, showing off all its glory. The leaves rustled while the trunks stood proudly, unaffected by the gusts of air. Around the cluster of boulders swayed dozens of dandelions and sunflowers. The half-grown dandelions fuzz was blown away, as was anything that had nothing to hold onto. The dead leaves on the ground flipped over and over as they flew westward. The wind was starting lessen, and the fur-covered shape relaxed, narrowed eyes becoming normal again.
He blinked as the world stilled for a while, and decided he would go hunting. That was what he had gone out for, anyway. Lean muscles rippled as he stood up, black-and-gray winter fur a bit disheveled. Large, soft ears twitched and tilted backwards, making sure nothing was behind him. Huge jaws opened in a yawn, exposing gleaming white teeth that could rip apart almost anything and a lolling pink tongue, designed to lap up water when needed. Dark nose twitched as he sneezed; something must have gotten into the long probiscus. Stupid wind.
He blinked again and slid out his front paws, stretching. Back legs bended as his muscles loosened. When they were satisfyingly relaxed, he sat up again, tail swishing against the dirt and leaves on the ground. The wind had definitely calmed down, and he could see light trickling through the east side of the forest. Concealed behind the trees was a glowing ball of fire that was rising steadily upwards. He decided he'd go back to camp, but as he raised his dark visage upwards to taste the air, sensitive nose noticed something that wasn't supposed to be there to notice. It was the smell of another of his kind...unfamiliar. Great amber orbs looked around, eyelids narrowed in suspicion. He couldn't see anything unusual, but there was a definite scent of wolf. Not of his pack--the Karzens had a unique scent that distinguished them from loners and other packs. No, this was a scent that he didn't recognize...not personally or by pack...then, as he blinked, the strangest thing happened.
He squirmed as he sensed something cold whip his fur. He couldn't hear, couldn't see-he wouldn't be able to for at least another quarter moon. His tiny paws batted in the air as his mother got up--he couldn't suckle from her belly anymore. His siblings complained around him, and he whined plaintifully. Then, he felt another wolf come in and shivered. This wolf had the bad scent. The really bad scent. Of course, at the time he didn't know how to distinguish the scent of ambition and excitement...and plain old evil. Instead he screamed as he felt one of his littermates picked up, the warmth of fur next to his ripped away. Never again would he smell the scent of that particular brother....
Until now. Faust's honey-colored eyes popped open, dull for once. He trembled. That scent. He did know it.
His huge shape stood immobile for quite a while...until a smaller, lighter body covered with scars stepped out from the brush. Waemin's violet eyes glinted in pleasure.
Other:
Nothing.
Thistlepaw
Age:
8 moons
Rank:
Apprentice
Clan:
HailClan
Physical Description:
Thistlepaw is going to grow up to be rather muscular in a kind of feminine way -- like a dancer would be, if she were a human. Her legs will be long and well-developed, with a long muzzle and small, neat ears accentuating her fairly-pretty face. Her paws are small and dainty, perfect for the elegance in which she moves. She's not exactly an absolutely stunning specimen, but she's certainly quite pleasing to the eye.
Her fur is brown-ginger tabby and white, the tabby markings on her cheeks, across the top of her head and along her back to her tail, where black tabby stripes take up most of the fur. The brown is in the middle of these patches, fading to ginger on the edges and eventually into white on her paws, nose and underside of her muzzle and her stomach. Her legs, while mostly white, have a few patches of black stripes and brown-ginger tabby -- especially on her back legs, as if someone has flicked her fur with a paintbrush.
Her eyes are a golden-brown colour, and to be honest aren't really special other than the fact that they're not the usual green colour.
Personality:
Thistlepaw's social skills are not exactly her strong point, and she sort of struggles to make friends with cats her own age (although she gets along fine with the warriors, queens and elders). In fact, half of the time the rest of the apprentices in WindClan probably don't even realize she's there, which would make her a good eavesdropper...
Which she does! She likes to listen on other cat's conversations, and although she can keep secrets very well, she just likes to know what's going on within her own Clan. She's very curious, but extremely passive about it, if you get what I mean.
She adores going to the elders' den and even cleaning out their fur, as they tell her amazing stories about Clan history. They sometimes even share their food with her, and she always comes out in a good mood. Thistlepaw also socializes well with the nursery kits, who adore her.
Her friends, as mentioned earlier, are mostly the elders and kits. She doesn't really have any her own age.
Her family is all deceased.
Thistlepaw has no love life, as she's barely even seven moons old.
Despite her prickly namesake, Thistlepaw is surprisingly sweet -- she's polite to those more mature and experienced than her, and listens to everybody with a seemingly endless patience. Her shy optimism can brighten almost any cat's day, although her optimism is sometimes a little bit unrealistic. 'A little bit' meaning 'a lot', but really, it's not all that bad... !
Thistlepaw, as mentioned earlier, is extremely shy and quiet -- never speaking except when directly spoken to, she's never sure when it's the right time to voice her opinion on something.
Thistlepaw isn't exactly the best fighter. Her size greatly disadvantages her, because oftentimes her opponent will pin her down. She's had a few close occasions, but thankfully she got out of most of her sticky situations--unlike her siblings.
One good thing is that Thistlepaw is swift and silent in her fighting. It helps her sneak up on opponents and surprise them.
Thistlepaw is going to grow up to be a skilled warrior -- although she's not very good with hunting in groups, working solo she is swift and graceful, always bringing back prey to her Clan. While she's not quite as good at fighting [as mentioned], sometimes her small size advantages her due to her quickness.
History:
Thistlepaw's history is slightly unexciting, as her parents were both pure-bred HailClan cats and weren't really that special either. Both of them had a fairly normal life and fell in love slowly when they were warriors Her father was quite a bit older than her mother, though, which caused a little bit of a stir in the Clan until they had their first litter of kits, after which it died down a little and became rather normal. Thistlepaw's mother, Duskstep, was particularly thankful for this, as she had never liked making a scene. Her mate, however, still has the bad habit of arguing with any cat stupid enough to make any comments.
They had four kits, one being stillborn and the other three all perfectly healthy. Two she-cats and one tom, they all grew up quite normally;
Thistlepaw was the shyer one who never put a paw out of line, Rushingpaw, the fierce protector of his sister and Soaringpaw, who... er, well, stared into the sky and never seemed at all there with the rest of the Clan. Soaringpaw -- well, then Soaringkit -- was always getting himself into situations which Thistlekit and Rushingkit had to pull him out of. Not like they minded, because they got to stay out playing for longer then!
All of them were recently apprenticed, with the determination to all become warriors at the same time -- they swore on it!
Then, in a very recent battle, Soaringpaw and Rushingpaw met their tragic fates. A giant warrior killed Soaringpaw mercilessly when she was staring at the battle, shocked, and Thistlepaw got him back for that by running after and fatally injuring him. Rushingpaw died bravely in fierce battle with a young warrior. Thistlepaw was quite depressed after that battle, as one could probably guess, but she soon got over it with help from the elders, who had lost many in their long lives.
Role Play Example:
Crickets sang; owls hooted. The wind blew rather loudly, whistling through the oaks and elms. A lone figure sat on a cluster of large boulders, looking up into the sky. The stars tonight were incredible--one could count thousands. For once the clouds did not cover the moon, which was also lucky as the huge silvery globe was full. Nature was at its best today, showing off all its glory. The leaves rustled while the trunks stood proudly, unaffected by the gusts of air. Around the cluster of boulders swayed dozens of dandelions and sunflowers. The half-grown dandelions fuzz was blown away, as was anything that had nothing to hold onto. The dead leaves on the ground flipped over and over as they flew westward. The wind was starting lessen, and the fur-covered shape relaxed, narrowed eyes becoming normal again.
He blinked as the world stilled for a while, and decided he would go hunting. That was what he had gone out for, anyway. Lean muscles rippled as he stood up, black-and-gray winter fur a bit disheveled. Large, soft ears twitched and tilted backwards, making sure nothing was behind him. Huge jaws opened in a yawn, exposing gleaming white teeth that could rip apart almost anything and a lolling pink tongue, designed to lap up water when needed. Dark nose twitched as he sneezed; something must have gotten into the long probiscus. Stupid wind.
He blinked again and slid out his front paws, stretching. Back legs bended as his muscles loosened. When they were satisfyingly relaxed, he sat up again, tail swishing against the dirt and leaves on the ground. The wind had definitely calmed down, and he could see light trickling through the east side of the forest. Concealed behind the trees was a glowing ball of fire that was rising steadily upwards. He decided he'd go back to camp, but as he raised his dark visage upwards to taste the air, sensitive nose noticed something that wasn't supposed to be there to notice. It was the smell of another of his kind...unfamiliar. Great amber orbs looked around, eyelids narrowed in suspicion. He couldn't see anything unusual, but there was a definite scent of wolf. Not of his pack--the Karzens had a unique scent that distinguished them from loners and other packs. No, this was a scent that he didn't recognize...not personally or by pack...then, as he blinked, the strangest thing happened.
He squirmed as he sensed something cold whip his fur. He couldn't hear, couldn't see-he wouldn't be able to for at least another quarter moon. His tiny paws batted in the air as his mother got up--he couldn't suckle from her belly anymore. His siblings complained around him, and he whined plaintifully. Then, he felt another wolf come in and shivered. This wolf had the bad scent. The really bad scent. Of course, at the time he didn't know how to distinguish the scent of ambition and excitement...and plain old evil. Instead he screamed as he felt one of his littermates picked up, the warmth of fur next to his ripped away. Never again would he smell the scent of that particular brother....
Until now. Faust's honey-colored eyes popped open, dull for once. He trembled. That scent. He did know it.
His huge shape stood immobile for quite a while...until a smaller, lighter body covered with scars stepped out from the brush. Waemin's violet eyes glinted in pleasure.
Other:
Nothing.
