Post by avu on May 11, 2008 12:19:08 GMT -5
NAME Stormpaw—Stormwing
GENDER She-cat
CLAN Thunderclan
RANK Apprentice
DESCRIPTION Stormpaw is actually quite young for an apprentice, having just been promoted. Her fur is still the soft down of a kitten’s—soft, dark gray tabby markings cover her body. The stripes are dark gray, fading to black, and there are several creamy white marks around her mouth and throat. Slender and lithe, and more agile than muscular, Stormpaw has short fur. There’s no doubt that she carries herself lightly, with barely any noise—she has small, delicate paws with especially sensitive pads which are easily torn by sharp or jagged materials. Her eyes are large for a cat, gray-green in color, with softly curling whiskers. Her ears are large and mobile, flicking every which way.
PICTURE
PERSONALITY Stormpaw can be described in one word—“honor.” Nothing matters to her as much as honor; she’s willing to give up nearly anything to keep honor. To her, the protection of the clan is the highest duty; kits are for the clan’s ranks; prey is for the clan’s needs. There is nothing worse than betrayal. With a fiery temper and a willful nature, Stormpaw has never been one for talk when actions can do—especially when she can fight. Stormpaw was the first of her litter to learn to fight and scuffle—a fierce little kitten, she’s always dutiful. However, she’s the most respectful kitten around her elders and betters, unless they for any reason betray her—whereupon, she’ll forget reason and fight.
HISTORY There’s not much to say about Stormpaw. Her mother was a rogue, giving birth to a litter of three. They lived nicely, for her mother was a very good hunter. The she-cat told her kittens of the clans. She herself had faced expulsion for a crime she did not commit, but longed to return to clan life. She passed the longing on to Stormpaw. Shortly after she began to yearn for clan life, a famine struck. Stormpaw’s mother died trying to provide food. Stormpaw, the youngest of the litter, proved to be the best hunter. She provided food for her siblings for a while, but soon after, as the famine grew worse, they agreed to separate for their individual good. Stormpaw has never known what has happened to her siblings; she knew only that the famine ended soon after, that she grew fat and sleek off of the mice and occasional rabbit.
IC Crouched in the undergrowth, Stormpaw’s ears flicked, catching the sounds of the forest around her. Somewhere, a mouse gnawed at something—it sounded to be a seed of some sort, or a nut—with a tough outer shell. The gray tabby raised her head cautiously, her gray-green eyes bright with curiosity. Where was it? Why couldn’t she see it?
“Ouch!” Stormpaw swung around as something lit in the center of her back—something compact and hard, that fell as if from nowhere! Her gaze swung upwards wildly, meeting the gaze of a squirrel that had dropped his nut. Stormpaw groaned internally. A squirrel—how could she have mistaken a squirrel for a mouse? And the sound had come from directly above her, too. Groaning at her own idiocy, the apprentice turned with a sigh. It was nearly dark; she might as well head back now…
CODEWORD “Believer”
GENDER She-cat
CLAN Thunderclan
RANK Apprentice
DESCRIPTION Stormpaw is actually quite young for an apprentice, having just been promoted. Her fur is still the soft down of a kitten’s—soft, dark gray tabby markings cover her body. The stripes are dark gray, fading to black, and there are several creamy white marks around her mouth and throat. Slender and lithe, and more agile than muscular, Stormpaw has short fur. There’s no doubt that she carries herself lightly, with barely any noise—she has small, delicate paws with especially sensitive pads which are easily torn by sharp or jagged materials. Her eyes are large for a cat, gray-green in color, with softly curling whiskers. Her ears are large and mobile, flicking every which way.
PICTURE
PERSONALITY Stormpaw can be described in one word—“honor.” Nothing matters to her as much as honor; she’s willing to give up nearly anything to keep honor. To her, the protection of the clan is the highest duty; kits are for the clan’s ranks; prey is for the clan’s needs. There is nothing worse than betrayal. With a fiery temper and a willful nature, Stormpaw has never been one for talk when actions can do—especially when she can fight. Stormpaw was the first of her litter to learn to fight and scuffle—a fierce little kitten, she’s always dutiful. However, she’s the most respectful kitten around her elders and betters, unless they for any reason betray her—whereupon, she’ll forget reason and fight.
HISTORY There’s not much to say about Stormpaw. Her mother was a rogue, giving birth to a litter of three. They lived nicely, for her mother was a very good hunter. The she-cat told her kittens of the clans. She herself had faced expulsion for a crime she did not commit, but longed to return to clan life. She passed the longing on to Stormpaw. Shortly after she began to yearn for clan life, a famine struck. Stormpaw’s mother died trying to provide food. Stormpaw, the youngest of the litter, proved to be the best hunter. She provided food for her siblings for a while, but soon after, as the famine grew worse, they agreed to separate for their individual good. Stormpaw has never known what has happened to her siblings; she knew only that the famine ended soon after, that she grew fat and sleek off of the mice and occasional rabbit.
IC Crouched in the undergrowth, Stormpaw’s ears flicked, catching the sounds of the forest around her. Somewhere, a mouse gnawed at something—it sounded to be a seed of some sort, or a nut—with a tough outer shell. The gray tabby raised her head cautiously, her gray-green eyes bright with curiosity. Where was it? Why couldn’t she see it?
“Ouch!” Stormpaw swung around as something lit in the center of her back—something compact and hard, that fell as if from nowhere! Her gaze swung upwards wildly, meeting the gaze of a squirrel that had dropped his nut. Stormpaw groaned internally. A squirrel—how could she have mistaken a squirrel for a mouse? And the sound had come from directly above her, too. Groaning at her own idiocy, the apprentice turned with a sigh. It was nearly dark; she might as well head back now…
CODEWORD “Believer”
