Post by <~BloodShadow~> on Jun 3, 2007 19:35:34 GMT -5
Name: Steelheart
Clan: MistClan
Rank: Older Warrior
Gender: Male
Age: 17 1/2 moons
Personality: Unwaveryingly loyal, a nice cat, good planner and a deep thinker. Get's the job done and works hard.
Physique: Small for his age, Steelheart still manages to get the job done through pure determination. He doesn't get his name through his color though. Steelheart is white, but the tips of his fur are greyish. He has a large yellowish spot on his back. He has golden colored eyes.
Past: Steelheart was found one day half-dead in the mountains when he was five moons old. He was amazingly shy at first, but eventually warmed up to other cats and is now fiercly loyal to those that saved his live 12 moons ago. He, like Bloodshadow, doesn't talk about his past at all, but he seems to be dealing with it a lot better than the brooding, loner cat that seems so cold-hearted.
Example RP:
* Snow. Blinding, needlike snow. A blizzard. That's what he'd heard it called before. He'd never seen one. Being in it now, he was glad he never had. He had to close his eyes, lest they be scratched blind by the snow forcing itself in them. Not that he'd be able to see anything anyway. The tiny, solitary dots of white had molded together into a giant haze of gray, mixing in with the night behind them. Even the mighty stars and moon were blocked from sight.
* He wasn't cold. He wasn't even numb. He was in a state of bitter, icy pain. He couldn't feel anything, at least not that well. The snow-needles didn't really hurt anymore. Instead, they were just there, something his exausted and half-dead body noted. It seemed like there were buffeting a dream him, and that only a bit of the feeling was passed onto the real cat... the one whose name was forgotten by all but him. No, he didn't feel it. The only numb part of him was his mind. The rest of his body was just a ball of stinging pain. He hoped frostbite was just a myth... but until he found out for sure, he wondered why he felt so heavy...
* A Mistclan patrol was out, making sure no cats tried to sneak across the border during the blizzard. They were used to the snow, and managed to see enough to make their way through the ice storm. Snowdrifts were piling up everywhere, but the cats feet were used to it by now. The lead cat, the most experianced warrior and the one most used to finding his way through a blizzard, tred on yet another pile of snow, when his paw encountered something not rock nor part of the white blanket that coated the mountains during leaf-bare. He picked his paw back up and set it in a paw-print, staring at the "drift" curiously.
"Hey... come here," he said to his patrol.
"What did you find, Longpaw?"
"I don't know."
Working together, the cleared the snow of the mysterious object. A cat, nearly dead, lay in the snow. He was still a kit, only five moons old by the look of him. He looked like he wouldn't last long.
"Help me drag him to camp," the cat called Longpaw said.
"But what if he's from another Clan?"
"Then we send him back when he's healthy."
"But-"
"I won't stoop so low as to kill a poor kitten."
Clan: MistClan
Rank: Older Warrior
Gender: Male
Age: 17 1/2 moons
Personality: Unwaveryingly loyal, a nice cat, good planner and a deep thinker. Get's the job done and works hard.
Physique: Small for his age, Steelheart still manages to get the job done through pure determination. He doesn't get his name through his color though. Steelheart is white, but the tips of his fur are greyish. He has a large yellowish spot on his back. He has golden colored eyes.
Past: Steelheart was found one day half-dead in the mountains when he was five moons old. He was amazingly shy at first, but eventually warmed up to other cats and is now fiercly loyal to those that saved his live 12 moons ago. He, like Bloodshadow, doesn't talk about his past at all, but he seems to be dealing with it a lot better than the brooding, loner cat that seems so cold-hearted.
Example RP:
* Snow. Blinding, needlike snow. A blizzard. That's what he'd heard it called before. He'd never seen one. Being in it now, he was glad he never had. He had to close his eyes, lest they be scratched blind by the snow forcing itself in them. Not that he'd be able to see anything anyway. The tiny, solitary dots of white had molded together into a giant haze of gray, mixing in with the night behind them. Even the mighty stars and moon were blocked from sight.
* He wasn't cold. He wasn't even numb. He was in a state of bitter, icy pain. He couldn't feel anything, at least not that well. The snow-needles didn't really hurt anymore. Instead, they were just there, something his exausted and half-dead body noted. It seemed like there were buffeting a dream him, and that only a bit of the feeling was passed onto the real cat... the one whose name was forgotten by all but him. No, he didn't feel it. The only numb part of him was his mind. The rest of his body was just a ball of stinging pain. He hoped frostbite was just a myth... but until he found out for sure, he wondered why he felt so heavy...
* A Mistclan patrol was out, making sure no cats tried to sneak across the border during the blizzard. They were used to the snow, and managed to see enough to make their way through the ice storm. Snowdrifts were piling up everywhere, but the cats feet were used to it by now. The lead cat, the most experianced warrior and the one most used to finding his way through a blizzard, tred on yet another pile of snow, when his paw encountered something not rock nor part of the white blanket that coated the mountains during leaf-bare. He picked his paw back up and set it in a paw-print, staring at the "drift" curiously.
"Hey... come here," he said to his patrol.
"What did you find, Longpaw?"
"I don't know."
Working together, the cleared the snow of the mysterious object. A cat, nearly dead, lay in the snow. He was still a kit, only five moons old by the look of him. He looked like he wouldn't last long.
"Help me drag him to camp," the cat called Longpaw said.
"But what if he's from another Clan?"
"Then we send him back when he's healthy."
"But-"
"I won't stoop so low as to kill a poor kitten."