Post by glaedr on Nov 22, 2010 7:24:34 GMT -8
Kiss me Kill me
your kiss is torture but killing me would be too easy
WHAT IS YOUR NAME?
Winterstar[/sub]
WHAT GENDER ARE YOU?
Tom[/sub]
HOW OLD ARE YOU?
39 moons[/sub]
WHAT CLAN ARE YOU LOYAL TO?
Windclan[/sub]
WHAT IS YOUR RANK?
leader[/sub]
WHAT DO YOU LOOK LIKE?
White tom with gray markings; blue eyes[/sub]
CAN YOU GO INTO MORE DETAIL PLEASE
Tall and long legged the tom saunters around as if on stilts. With long legs comes a thin body, but do not be fooled. Windclan is famouse for their wiry muscles, and their leader is no exception. Winterstar is agile, so shows his thin but hard limbs.Handsome is a word that could be pressed upon the wiry tom cat,his angled features stand sharp on his face. His pelt consistest mainly of short white fur. Patches of gray interupt the snow. A saddle across his back and a neat helmet are the most obviouse markigns, though a spattering of gray dots covers his haunches, and a ring of gray curls around the middle of his tail. His eyes are a sharp shade of blue, the color of thewinter sky.[/sub]
WHAT ARE YOU LIKE?
Loud, snotty, viciouse and crude. He is a king, and acts as such. Rude and horrably obnoxiouse the man flaunts about on his high steed and sneers at the other clans with the face of a viper. Do not let his childish behavior fool you. He truly is a snake in the grass. His minds is set on what is better for him and his clan, everyone else dosen't matter. He is viciously loyal, and horridly cunning. Winterstar is the kind of cat that would trick the devil into signing a document for him. He plays with words, twisting them about to suit his purposes. He is the kind of warrior his warriors trust inexplicably, and whos enemies would rather trust a twoleg then he.[/sub]
Past that Winterstar becomes and enigma. A cold smile plays on his lips, sheltering whatever thoughts flicker behind it. Paranoia eats at him daily, keeping him in a state of perpetual anxiousness. He has a very strong sence of pride, and his temper is set up to boot. Winterstar is veyr good at weasiling away his emotions, he would rather look deranged then show off what he would call a weakness.
YOUR FAMILY TREE
Jayflight - gray tabby she-cat; yellow eyes ; mother[/sub]
Fallensnow - white tom with a gray saddle marking; blue eyes; father
Bramblethicket - gray tabby tom with white paws; yellow eyes ; brother
Brindleback- white she-cat, gray tabby saddle; blue eyes ; sister
SHOW US WHAT YOU GOT
from a different rp... and cat xD[/sub]
Her claws ripped gashes into the bank they clung too. Black slick form slipping forth from the lake the animal rested herself on three limbs, holding the fourth crooked paw off the ground twitching the water off of the end of its toes. Brittlestar turned her scarred face towards the blazing sun. Her ginger gaze threatened it, daring it to try and out shine their own blazing hue. Gripping the wet thing in her jaws, the brown she-cat turned her head away, back towards camp. All she could smell was fish, the accursed thing drowning out all of her other senses. Huffing around it, Brittlestar hefted her long injured leg forward and started off at a brisk trot.
She had refused to hold a limp, and would continue to do so. If that leg wouldn't hold her up then she would make the other three do it on their own. A leader will not show pain. A leader will not show weakness. It is not to be seen, heard or so much as mentioned. Its why mountainclan was to be sneered at. Their leader was soft, trying to avoid their own anger. It was stupid. Starclan brought you to your place didn't it? So why hide behind a fake little crust. Be mean, if thats what it takes. A clan is not a group of kits. Its not a family. Its an army, and must be treated as such.
Padding swiftly back towards her camp, Brittlestar let a small smile slip up across her face. She was a good leader, wasn't she? Hunting for her precious army. Okay so maybe they where a family, but they must still be ran as if ready for battle. Or else they would get hurt, and she wouldn't let them be hurt. She would guard them until her final life slipped from her grasp. Crooked tail, broke leg, and facial scars included. They had all been gained protecting her clan, protecting the lives that rested so heavily on her three workable legs. Frowning around her catch, the large brown animal slunk forward, moving hurriedly towards camp. Paranoia ate at the back of her mind.
She wouldn't let them come crashing down.
