Post by §Wildheart§ on Sept 3, 2009 20:40:11 GMT -5
Name: Stoneshadow
Age: 12 moons
Gender: Tom
Home: He wanders everywhere with his siblings. No true home.
Appearance: White with black speckles and dancing blue eyes.
Personality: Deathly afraid of the earth. Most often is in the trees, or in the water. Very reckless and impulsive, doesn't have much common sense. However, he loves his family, and would die for them.
Family: Triplets. Twigclaw, Turtledive.
History:
Life had been perfect at first, having been born and somewhat raised in MoonClan, along with his siblings TwigClaw and Turtledive. MoonClan though, was very dignified, and their presence, silly and fun-loving, was never really welcomed. Their apprentice-ages were terrible, and that was when it happened. After thinking they'd never be warriors, and when that proved true, Twigclaw orginized a prank on his mentor, whom had told him over and over how use-less Twigclaw and his siblings were. Twigclaw came up with the plans, and Stoneshadow, with Turtledive, had easily decided to help. The plan was simple. The mentor was a guard duty, and they knew his personality. They managed to lure him out into the forest. Once there they were simply going to get him stuck in a tree, but it didn't happen that way. In the turmoil, of Twigclaw trying to make obnoxious sounds, and the triplets making snickering noises from the tree above, Twigclaw's mentor stepped in a fox trap placed by two-legs. He was seriously injured, and bleeding heavily. If they had been brave and gone to camp, they might have been able to save him. No, though. Twigclaw decided to create warrior names for Turtledive and Stoneshadow and flee, forgetting the clans, sick of being looked down upon all the time. The siblings agreed and soon they were off, becoming rogues who meddled in the lives of the clan
Picture: -
Mate: -
Other: -
Permanant
Name: Umberspots
Gender: Tom
Age: 30 moons
Clan: RainClan
Position Auditioning for: Deputy
Appearence:
For the most part, Umberspots appears to be one of the most normal of Clan cats. He is of medium height, so there is nothing special there, all that could be considered different with the frame work would be the fact that he is built lighter, and better at speed then he is with strength. His fighting styles include hit and duck, rather then being a battering ram that a lot of other toms are. His pelt though, is what makes him sucn an oddity, to tell you the truth.
On his face, you can see that its a combo of ginger and white. A majority of his face is white, leaving onhis nose, streaks up the side of his face, and the top of his head ginger. And suddenly, the ginger just stops. All you see is a lot of white. Every now and then, a patch of ginger will show up though, inbetween his shoulder blades, and at the back of the cat are the most common, but there are a few other patches, and a few scattered flecks of ginger inter-woven into the pelt of the tom. His eyes are what gave him his name though. They are a fierce, somewhat burnt brown, darker then many warrior's eyes, and always seem to have a dancing light in them. Nothing seems to ever make that light go out either. It is as if his soul is dancing in his eyes, a very strange experiance for anyone who doesn't know the tom.
Personality:
Although not exactly hostile, Umberspots is a cat with a fierce loyalty to his clan, and his clan alone. In truth, he could care less what was happening to the other clans. Rogues are a constant problem for the ginger and white tom as well, especially those who think they can tresspass. Although Umberspots does follow the warrior code, with his mysterious past, one can only wonder what he has done before he came into the clan. You see, he was born and mostly raised to rogues, and that could be part of the reason he hates them so much. Constantly being teased by all that didn't know him, it was a real sore spot for the tom. As soon as he became a warrior though, everything seemed to change. There was less invasions, and the prey seemed to run better. There was no killing involved, Umberspots wouldn't want to anger StarClan, but there seems to be a lacking of rogues these days.
Distant to many, aside from those who try to make friends with the tom, Umberspots bears social scars that never quite healed. It doesn't show, no, but that doesn't mean that they aren't still there. Wary of strangers, more prone to bristle then listen, gatherings are always a challenge with him. There is nowhere he would rather be then in his clan, and hes going to get there, no matter the cost. Well rounded, he is a cat of multiple personality's, he just has trouble finding his true one from time to time. Bitter to sweet, happy to sad, he is always chinging his mind about something.
Don't wipe him away though, for Umberspots has a lot more to him then what a lot of clan cats think. Just because of his parentage he used to be ridiculed, but things are changing for the tom. Maybe soon, another personality will arise, if the need is great. Something, far closer to the truth...
Mate:
None
Other:
The Sample:
All that was heard was the faint sigh. At this point, with the wind gently, almost playfully, rustling around the tom, that sign was almost unheard, a whisper on the wind, you could say. Life was great, the prey was running, there was no sickness, and everything was just normal, as life for a warrior was. Why though, was he so bound and determind to come out here, when he had things he could be doing at camp? Sure, interacting really wasn't his thing, but still. He had to try. He just had to. Being alone was never a good thing, and although one could use space when the time came, the reason he was out here wasn't because he needed that space. Rather, it was the fact that he wanted to be alone. Space, he had plenty of that, the ginger and white tom thought, with a bitter laugh. Space, time, age, it was all the same really. With every passing day, one grew older, but with the grace of StarClan, life was eternal. There was no need to worry about dying; you could come back, only as a Spirit, when you were needed. There was no reason to fear the other side, and you might as well make up your earth life as well as you could. And he was trying, so very hard, but some scars just never actually heal. It was a horrible thing that had happened to him, but it was in the past, and one thing he had learned, was never to dig up that past, unless you wanted to be riddled with something far worse then just annoyances. Well, for his past anyway. It was like a festering wound, just waiting for someone to lance, seeming to dare anyone to try. For surrounding that wound, was a thick shield, something that could only be taken down by one. Himself. But finding that loophole, and having the will to push it away, they were two different things. And one, was a lot harder then the other.
With a sudden splash, Umberspots fell into a rather deep stream, the cold water lancing through his fur, right up to his skin. However, that icy water seemed to wake the tom from the mindless trance he had been in, making him more aware of where he had been headed. That was a good thing, seeing as he was getting close to the rogue borders. Rogues. How he hated them, how he hated anyone that had to do with anyone outside of his clan. They were all liars, ones who can not be trusted. Stealing prey that belonged to RainClan alone, and causing worthless battles. Maw drawing back in a silent snarl, the tips of his pelt began to bristle, before Umberspots told himself to calm down once more, dark eyes dancing dangerously. All he needed was one rogue to cross the line, and then he would show them exactly what he thought of them. There didn't need to be killing, voices could do a lot of work on their own. Besides, killing was a messy sport anyway. He wouldn't want to defile the clan's land with the blood of scum rogues, or traitors. And there he went, some mental voice called out, getting angry again at things he couldn't change.
Tail lashing back and forth, it was a wonder that Umberspots even attempted these things, relaxing was so hard to manage.
"I can blame the world for my problems, but only I can fix them."
With a sigh, the tom deflated, giving his chest fur a quick lick to soothe himself. Here he was, getting all worked up over nothing. After all, there were no rogues in sight, so what was the problem. He was always going to make a fool of himself with these things, gatherings were hard enough to get through, with all the eyes staring at him. All the faces that he didn't know. It was madness, and there was nothing he could do about it. The only thing he could do was buff it out, and be on his best behavior. But which behavior was his? Having to adapt to so many personalities, it was very difficult to figure out who he really was. Lost in his mind, always searching for something that probably wasn't there, it was a wonder the tom happened to be sane. Or at least, looked to be. After all, warriors weren't suppose to go insane. So no, he couldn't be insane, right? After all, being insane would show other signs, as he would be laughing, and plotting the demise of others. And, for a fact, Umberspots knew that he wasn't doing that.
Maybe he was just paranoid, that wouldn't be so bad. After all, being paranoid was a natrual thing, everyone was a little paranoid about something. It was just to see how far you took being paranoid. Breathing a sigh of relief, the ginger and white tom picked up the piece of prey, he had started out this journey on the thought that there needed to be fresh kill for the pile, and he was going to end it that way. Raising his head and tail, not a hint of his previous thoughts in the dark brown orbs of the tom, Umberspots stalked forward, looking every bit the cat he was. On the outside, that was. On the inside, he was still raging with turnmoil. After all, who wasn't confused about themselves these days? When life was calm, something was going to happen. Something big, and possibly something very bad.
For the moment though, the only thing anyone could do was go on, and live their life. Grinning slightly, to himself, Umberspots entered the clan's camp, greeting the others with a nod of his head. He loved his clan, and his life. There was nowhere else he would rather be.
Age: 12 moons
Gender: Tom
Home: He wanders everywhere with his siblings. No true home.
Appearance: White with black speckles and dancing blue eyes.
Personality: Deathly afraid of the earth. Most often is in the trees, or in the water. Very reckless and impulsive, doesn't have much common sense. However, he loves his family, and would die for them.
Family: Triplets. Twigclaw, Turtledive.
History:
Life had been perfect at first, having been born and somewhat raised in MoonClan, along with his siblings TwigClaw and Turtledive. MoonClan though, was very dignified, and their presence, silly and fun-loving, was never really welcomed. Their apprentice-ages were terrible, and that was when it happened. After thinking they'd never be warriors, and when that proved true, Twigclaw orginized a prank on his mentor, whom had told him over and over how use-less Twigclaw and his siblings were. Twigclaw came up with the plans, and Stoneshadow, with Turtledive, had easily decided to help. The plan was simple. The mentor was a guard duty, and they knew his personality. They managed to lure him out into the forest. Once there they were simply going to get him stuck in a tree, but it didn't happen that way. In the turmoil, of Twigclaw trying to make obnoxious sounds, and the triplets making snickering noises from the tree above, Twigclaw's mentor stepped in a fox trap placed by two-legs. He was seriously injured, and bleeding heavily. If they had been brave and gone to camp, they might have been able to save him. No, though. Twigclaw decided to create warrior names for Turtledive and Stoneshadow and flee, forgetting the clans, sick of being looked down upon all the time. The siblings agreed and soon they were off, becoming rogues who meddled in the lives of the clan
Picture: -
Mate: -
Other: -
Permanant
Name: Umberspots
Gender: Tom
Age: 30 moons
Clan: RainClan
Position Auditioning for: Deputy
Appearence:
For the most part, Umberspots appears to be one of the most normal of Clan cats. He is of medium height, so there is nothing special there, all that could be considered different with the frame work would be the fact that he is built lighter, and better at speed then he is with strength. His fighting styles include hit and duck, rather then being a battering ram that a lot of other toms are. His pelt though, is what makes him sucn an oddity, to tell you the truth.
On his face, you can see that its a combo of ginger and white. A majority of his face is white, leaving onhis nose, streaks up the side of his face, and the top of his head ginger. And suddenly, the ginger just stops. All you see is a lot of white. Every now and then, a patch of ginger will show up though, inbetween his shoulder blades, and at the back of the cat are the most common, but there are a few other patches, and a few scattered flecks of ginger inter-woven into the pelt of the tom. His eyes are what gave him his name though. They are a fierce, somewhat burnt brown, darker then many warrior's eyes, and always seem to have a dancing light in them. Nothing seems to ever make that light go out either. It is as if his soul is dancing in his eyes, a very strange experiance for anyone who doesn't know the tom.
Personality:
Although not exactly hostile, Umberspots is a cat with a fierce loyalty to his clan, and his clan alone. In truth, he could care less what was happening to the other clans. Rogues are a constant problem for the ginger and white tom as well, especially those who think they can tresspass. Although Umberspots does follow the warrior code, with his mysterious past, one can only wonder what he has done before he came into the clan. You see, he was born and mostly raised to rogues, and that could be part of the reason he hates them so much. Constantly being teased by all that didn't know him, it was a real sore spot for the tom. As soon as he became a warrior though, everything seemed to change. There was less invasions, and the prey seemed to run better. There was no killing involved, Umberspots wouldn't want to anger StarClan, but there seems to be a lacking of rogues these days.
Distant to many, aside from those who try to make friends with the tom, Umberspots bears social scars that never quite healed. It doesn't show, no, but that doesn't mean that they aren't still there. Wary of strangers, more prone to bristle then listen, gatherings are always a challenge with him. There is nowhere he would rather be then in his clan, and hes going to get there, no matter the cost. Well rounded, he is a cat of multiple personality's, he just has trouble finding his true one from time to time. Bitter to sweet, happy to sad, he is always chinging his mind about something.
Don't wipe him away though, for Umberspots has a lot more to him then what a lot of clan cats think. Just because of his parentage he used to be ridiculed, but things are changing for the tom. Maybe soon, another personality will arise, if the need is great. Something, far closer to the truth...
Mate:
None
Other:
The Sample:
All that was heard was the faint sigh. At this point, with the wind gently, almost playfully, rustling around the tom, that sign was almost unheard, a whisper on the wind, you could say. Life was great, the prey was running, there was no sickness, and everything was just normal, as life for a warrior was. Why though, was he so bound and determind to come out here, when he had things he could be doing at camp? Sure, interacting really wasn't his thing, but still. He had to try. He just had to. Being alone was never a good thing, and although one could use space when the time came, the reason he was out here wasn't because he needed that space. Rather, it was the fact that he wanted to be alone. Space, he had plenty of that, the ginger and white tom thought, with a bitter laugh. Space, time, age, it was all the same really. With every passing day, one grew older, but with the grace of StarClan, life was eternal. There was no need to worry about dying; you could come back, only as a Spirit, when you were needed. There was no reason to fear the other side, and you might as well make up your earth life as well as you could. And he was trying, so very hard, but some scars just never actually heal. It was a horrible thing that had happened to him, but it was in the past, and one thing he had learned, was never to dig up that past, unless you wanted to be riddled with something far worse then just annoyances. Well, for his past anyway. It was like a festering wound, just waiting for someone to lance, seeming to dare anyone to try. For surrounding that wound, was a thick shield, something that could only be taken down by one. Himself. But finding that loophole, and having the will to push it away, they were two different things. And one, was a lot harder then the other.
With a sudden splash, Umberspots fell into a rather deep stream, the cold water lancing through his fur, right up to his skin. However, that icy water seemed to wake the tom from the mindless trance he had been in, making him more aware of where he had been headed. That was a good thing, seeing as he was getting close to the rogue borders. Rogues. How he hated them, how he hated anyone that had to do with anyone outside of his clan. They were all liars, ones who can not be trusted. Stealing prey that belonged to RainClan alone, and causing worthless battles. Maw drawing back in a silent snarl, the tips of his pelt began to bristle, before Umberspots told himself to calm down once more, dark eyes dancing dangerously. All he needed was one rogue to cross the line, and then he would show them exactly what he thought of them. There didn't need to be killing, voices could do a lot of work on their own. Besides, killing was a messy sport anyway. He wouldn't want to defile the clan's land with the blood of scum rogues, or traitors. And there he went, some mental voice called out, getting angry again at things he couldn't change.
Tail lashing back and forth, it was a wonder that Umberspots even attempted these things, relaxing was so hard to manage.
"I can blame the world for my problems, but only I can fix them."
With a sigh, the tom deflated, giving his chest fur a quick lick to soothe himself. Here he was, getting all worked up over nothing. After all, there were no rogues in sight, so what was the problem. He was always going to make a fool of himself with these things, gatherings were hard enough to get through, with all the eyes staring at him. All the faces that he didn't know. It was madness, and there was nothing he could do about it. The only thing he could do was buff it out, and be on his best behavior. But which behavior was his? Having to adapt to so many personalities, it was very difficult to figure out who he really was. Lost in his mind, always searching for something that probably wasn't there, it was a wonder the tom happened to be sane. Or at least, looked to be. After all, warriors weren't suppose to go insane. So no, he couldn't be insane, right? After all, being insane would show other signs, as he would be laughing, and plotting the demise of others. And, for a fact, Umberspots knew that he wasn't doing that.
Maybe he was just paranoid, that wouldn't be so bad. After all, being paranoid was a natrual thing, everyone was a little paranoid about something. It was just to see how far you took being paranoid. Breathing a sigh of relief, the ginger and white tom picked up the piece of prey, he had started out this journey on the thought that there needed to be fresh kill for the pile, and he was going to end it that way. Raising his head and tail, not a hint of his previous thoughts in the dark brown orbs of the tom, Umberspots stalked forward, looking every bit the cat he was. On the outside, that was. On the inside, he was still raging with turnmoil. After all, who wasn't confused about themselves these days? When life was calm, something was going to happen. Something big, and possibly something very bad.
For the moment though, the only thing anyone could do was go on, and live their life. Grinning slightly, to himself, Umberspots entered the clan's camp, greeting the others with a nod of his head. He loved his clan, and his life. There was nowhere else he would rather be.
