Post by The Everlasting SUNNEH. on Feb 28, 2006 7:40:29 GMT -5
Display Name: (my screen name is Sunpelt) (my character's name is going to be Bloodpelt, as you can see above)
Characters: Sunpelt Nightrain Hazelkit
RP Example: The silky smooth fur of Bloodpelt was hidden, by the eerie fog. His black eyes searched the territory for prey, and a luscious meal. His hind legs and muscles tensed, and the blood flowed through his vanes, ready to catch the scrawny meal. He jumped, pouncing with such beauty and grace, one of Tigerclan would be humiliated. The mouse spotted him, but not soon enough. Bloodpelt clamped down hard, and the last breath of the mouse was gone. He had no guilt. HE felt no pain for it's death. The mouse was gone. His dinner was here. That was that. Bloodpelt slunk down into the depths of the hidden territory, silent as a hawk. His black pelt blend into the night sky, but with the fog, all that you could see was his black eyes, staring a hole into your soul. Bloodpelt grasped the mouse by it's neck, and swallowed it with a few bites. His enormous jaw clamped down, squishing the bones and skull. He snickered, but only lingered for a moment, as the rain dotted his pelt. Bloodpelt slunk off into the safety of Nightclan camp, for his only fear, was rain.
He raced for the shelter, trying his hardest not to let out a yowl. But the clap of thunder freaked him, and he hid in a bush. The sky was dark, and Bloodpelt was scared of the thunder. He practically flew, when he ran out of the bush. Dodging whatever was in his way, he didn't even know where he was going. The rain beated down on his pelt, and another clap of thunder echoed through the sky. He reached the fourtrees, and automatically knew he was going the wrong way. Running like a Tigerclan cat, Bloodpelt bolted towards Nightclan camp. Lightning streaked across the sky, and he finally made it, panting.
"I didn't know your scared of thunder!" A cat beside him mocked.
"I am not!" Bloodpelt insisted, but Bloodpelt knew he was.
His companion shrugged, knowing Bloodpelt's lie was obvios, because of his desperate attempt to hide his thoughts.
When the storm cleared, Bloodpelt stepped out from under the shelter. He took in the smooth air, as it blew against his pelt. It ruffled his pelt, and he smiled. A perfect day for the kill. Just then, an almost unfamiliar smell wafted through his nose. He brought it in with pleasure. Smirking, Bloodpelt trotted over to where the smell was coming from. He saw it. The bundle of fur was not even worth it, but the lack of Bloodshed that day, made Bloodpelt anxious to catch it. Without feeling any guilt at all, he pounced, and a tiny squeal came from the helpless kit. With little time to think, it began to move. But not in time. Bloodpelt jumped, and it flailed about. It was gone. Dead. Bloodpelt felt it's death no more than he had felt the mouse. Dunking the dead body in some water, he didn't want the bloody kit to be noticed, until time for it to be noticed. Bloodpelt was about to take a bite out of it, but first said,
"Sweet Dreams little kit. That's all you'll be having now." And with a crunch of bones, and a catch of fur, he carried it back to camp.
This is the poor little kit's side of the story-
After the thunderstorm, the rogue kitten had traveled from it's mother's firm grasp. Running not far from Nightclan camp, he scented it's horrid smell. While sniffing it in, a dark shadow came over him. He thought it was his mother, and was about to ask her something, before he saw it's glinting teeth and ebony eyes. It didn't have time to think.
The short, sad story made no difference in Bloodpelt's opinion. It was a kit, dead now, and forever useless. It reminded Bloodpelt of when he was only a kit. He too was oce a rogue, and his mother was a sinister cat. She had liked the name bloodpelt, but she never really thought of calling her son that, until he had killed a she-cat from Riverclan. The helpless elder had no say in the matter.Covered in Blood from head to toe, the rogue dubbed her son so. After a run-in with Nightclan, he killed his mother, and joined the sinister clan. Bloodpelt dropped the kit, and was about to take a bite, as the memories flooded his mind.
Why you should get this character: I have three solid years in the roleplaying profession, and a literate to the death. If I am in the mood, I can write a decently long (and sometimes awkwardly long) post, depending on what the person gives me to write with. I may not be the best EVIL person, but I have logic like no tomarrow, and my plotting and schemes are sometimes unbelievable. But if you wish, you may say no.
Characters: Sunpelt Nightrain Hazelkit
RP Example: The silky smooth fur of Bloodpelt was hidden, by the eerie fog. His black eyes searched the territory for prey, and a luscious meal. His hind legs and muscles tensed, and the blood flowed through his vanes, ready to catch the scrawny meal. He jumped, pouncing with such beauty and grace, one of Tigerclan would be humiliated. The mouse spotted him, but not soon enough. Bloodpelt clamped down hard, and the last breath of the mouse was gone. He had no guilt. HE felt no pain for it's death. The mouse was gone. His dinner was here. That was that. Bloodpelt slunk down into the depths of the hidden territory, silent as a hawk. His black pelt blend into the night sky, but with the fog, all that you could see was his black eyes, staring a hole into your soul. Bloodpelt grasped the mouse by it's neck, and swallowed it with a few bites. His enormous jaw clamped down, squishing the bones and skull. He snickered, but only lingered for a moment, as the rain dotted his pelt. Bloodpelt slunk off into the safety of Nightclan camp, for his only fear, was rain.
He raced for the shelter, trying his hardest not to let out a yowl. But the clap of thunder freaked him, and he hid in a bush. The sky was dark, and Bloodpelt was scared of the thunder. He practically flew, when he ran out of the bush. Dodging whatever was in his way, he didn't even know where he was going. The rain beated down on his pelt, and another clap of thunder echoed through the sky. He reached the fourtrees, and automatically knew he was going the wrong way. Running like a Tigerclan cat, Bloodpelt bolted towards Nightclan camp. Lightning streaked across the sky, and he finally made it, panting.
"I didn't know your scared of thunder!" A cat beside him mocked.
"I am not!" Bloodpelt insisted, but Bloodpelt knew he was.
His companion shrugged, knowing Bloodpelt's lie was obvios, because of his desperate attempt to hide his thoughts.
When the storm cleared, Bloodpelt stepped out from under the shelter. He took in the smooth air, as it blew against his pelt. It ruffled his pelt, and he smiled. A perfect day for the kill. Just then, an almost unfamiliar smell wafted through his nose. He brought it in with pleasure. Smirking, Bloodpelt trotted over to where the smell was coming from. He saw it. The bundle of fur was not even worth it, but the lack of Bloodshed that day, made Bloodpelt anxious to catch it. Without feeling any guilt at all, he pounced, and a tiny squeal came from the helpless kit. With little time to think, it began to move. But not in time. Bloodpelt jumped, and it flailed about. It was gone. Dead. Bloodpelt felt it's death no more than he had felt the mouse. Dunking the dead body in some water, he didn't want the bloody kit to be noticed, until time for it to be noticed. Bloodpelt was about to take a bite out of it, but first said,
"Sweet Dreams little kit. That's all you'll be having now." And with a crunch of bones, and a catch of fur, he carried it back to camp.
This is the poor little kit's side of the story-
After the thunderstorm, the rogue kitten had traveled from it's mother's firm grasp. Running not far from Nightclan camp, he scented it's horrid smell. While sniffing it in, a dark shadow came over him. He thought it was his mother, and was about to ask her something, before he saw it's glinting teeth and ebony eyes. It didn't have time to think.
The short, sad story made no difference in Bloodpelt's opinion. It was a kit, dead now, and forever useless. It reminded Bloodpelt of when he was only a kit. He too was oce a rogue, and his mother was a sinister cat. She had liked the name bloodpelt, but she never really thought of calling her son that, until he had killed a she-cat from Riverclan. The helpless elder had no say in the matter.Covered in Blood from head to toe, the rogue dubbed her son so. After a run-in with Nightclan, he killed his mother, and joined the sinister clan. Bloodpelt dropped the kit, and was about to take a bite, as the memories flooded his mind.
Why you should get this character: I have three solid years in the roleplaying profession, and a literate to the death. If I am in the mood, I can write a decently long (and sometimes awkwardly long) post, depending on what the person gives me to write with. I may not be the best EVIL person, but I have logic like no tomarrow, and my plotting and schemes are sometimes unbelievable. But if you wish, you may say no.
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