Post by ARTEMISxxx on Mar 23, 2006 21:39:00 GMT -5
Name: [shadow=gray,left,300]Strife[/shadow]
Do you honor?: No.
Age: 20 Moons
Gender: Tom
Appearance: Strife has a short pelt as dark as midnight, and a single white paw on his front left leg. Oddly enough, this is the leg that he is lame on-it’s twisted in an odd way, almost an arch shape. He has deep emerald eyes and a white glaze underneath his chin. Along his side is a scar-a reminder of one of his quarrels with the Clans.
RP Example:
Strife yawned lazily,maw opened ajar to reveal two rows of razor-sharp teeth.Bright optics glistened in the moonlight, and he watched amusingly as the two Clan cats interacted with eachother. His audits perked and he caught their speech.
"He loves her,yet she does not love him back.How pathetic is he to continue chasing after her!"
The black tom meowed silently,eyes narrowed and audits foled along his skull.He let out a slight hiss,then regained himself and thought quietly for a moment.
"He is just like me,with my chasing of the Clanlife..."
Although the tom didn't believe in StarClan,he raised his head to the swirling stars and studied them closely,attempting to see constellations.
No such luck.
His head swung back in the direction of the commotion,and he rested his heavy skull upon his forepaws,sighing in exhaustion and nearly closing his eyes.His claws sheathed and unsheathed with a soft shink against the rock he was perched on.His tail flicked lazily back and forth,and the tom almost forgot himself and nearly let out a huge yawn.His fangs glistened again as his maw slightly became ajar,and he inhaled for the scent of prey.
Pinpointing a mouse,the tom carefully got up to all fours and began to stalk through the tall grasses,only pausing when the rodent stopped.It's whiskers twitched,and Strife knew it had somehow picked up his scent.A small breeze blew,and Strife knew waiting time was over.
With a small rustle of the grass,he coiled and sprung upon the small morsel,twisted his head sideways,and delivered the lethal bite.The mouse gave a shrill squeak,then slowly died away,the life draining from the quiant rodent and leaving it breathless.
Strife knew that the Clancats were probably alarmed by now,the mouse giving his position away.Seizing the rodent quickly,he leapt back upon the rock he had previously been sitting on,and laid low for fear of being attacked.
Clan: None
Rank: Loner
Breed: Unknown
Personality: He doesn’t get along well with the others, obviously. Strife is a somewhat outcast. He wanders aimlessly around the Clan’s borders, empty emerald eyes scanning the plains and territories. For some reason, he is usually seen towards the NightClan’s borders-some say he’s simply waiting to be asked to join. Others just say he’s hunting for trouble...
History:
Kit~
Strife was born as a ThunderClan. There was nothing special about his birth, no miracles, no great message from StarClan-none of the world knew the future loner and terrorizer of the Clans was to be born the day Strife was brought into the world. The tom was born as innocent and as clean as every other newborn was.
But here he was.
His mother didn't want any kits,but now here Strife was,the new burden in her life.His mother,Melody(such a sweet name for such a lost soul),regarded him as just another cat.She fed him with her milk only when his loud cries interrupted her peace.She glared at him with not the love of a mother,but with the glares of an enemy or a traitor.
Warrior~
The instant Strife was no longer weaning, he was deserted by his mother deep in NightClan territory,where he was left to suffer death by the NightClan cats.For many hours he cried,wondering where his mother had gone,where his Clan had gone.Many a time he starved himself, partly out of regret for now being a loner. He longed to be a part of a Clan again, but when he tried to ask permission he was turned away without so much a thought-and with a nasty slash on his side to remind him of his failures. Now he wanders without so much a care of the world, practically begging for his life to end and to be put out of his misery.
Codewords: The Ancient Ways, Zeik
Strife-
1. Bitter Conflict or Rivalry
Bitter and sometimes violent conflict, struggle, or rivalry.
2. Striving
Hard work to get or achieve something
Do you honor?: No.
Age: 20 Moons
Gender: Tom
Appearance: Strife has a short pelt as dark as midnight, and a single white paw on his front left leg. Oddly enough, this is the leg that he is lame on-it’s twisted in an odd way, almost an arch shape. He has deep emerald eyes and a white glaze underneath his chin. Along his side is a scar-a reminder of one of his quarrels with the Clans.
RP Example:
Strife yawned lazily,maw opened ajar to reveal two rows of razor-sharp teeth.Bright optics glistened in the moonlight, and he watched amusingly as the two Clan cats interacted with eachother. His audits perked and he caught their speech.
"He loves her,yet she does not love him back.How pathetic is he to continue chasing after her!"
The black tom meowed silently,eyes narrowed and audits foled along his skull.He let out a slight hiss,then regained himself and thought quietly for a moment.
"He is just like me,with my chasing of the Clanlife..."
Although the tom didn't believe in StarClan,he raised his head to the swirling stars and studied them closely,attempting to see constellations.
No such luck.
His head swung back in the direction of the commotion,and he rested his heavy skull upon his forepaws,sighing in exhaustion and nearly closing his eyes.His claws sheathed and unsheathed with a soft shink against the rock he was perched on.His tail flicked lazily back and forth,and the tom almost forgot himself and nearly let out a huge yawn.His fangs glistened again as his maw slightly became ajar,and he inhaled for the scent of prey.
Pinpointing a mouse,the tom carefully got up to all fours and began to stalk through the tall grasses,only pausing when the rodent stopped.It's whiskers twitched,and Strife knew it had somehow picked up his scent.A small breeze blew,and Strife knew waiting time was over.
With a small rustle of the grass,he coiled and sprung upon the small morsel,twisted his head sideways,and delivered the lethal bite.The mouse gave a shrill squeak,then slowly died away,the life draining from the quiant rodent and leaving it breathless.
Strife knew that the Clancats were probably alarmed by now,the mouse giving his position away.Seizing the rodent quickly,he leapt back upon the rock he had previously been sitting on,and laid low for fear of being attacked.
Clan: None
Rank: Loner
Breed: Unknown
Personality: He doesn’t get along well with the others, obviously. Strife is a somewhat outcast. He wanders aimlessly around the Clan’s borders, empty emerald eyes scanning the plains and territories. For some reason, he is usually seen towards the NightClan’s borders-some say he’s simply waiting to be asked to join. Others just say he’s hunting for trouble...
History:
Kit~
Strife was born as a ThunderClan. There was nothing special about his birth, no miracles, no great message from StarClan-none of the world knew the future loner and terrorizer of the Clans was to be born the day Strife was brought into the world. The tom was born as innocent and as clean as every other newborn was.
But here he was.
His mother didn't want any kits,but now here Strife was,the new burden in her life.His mother,Melody(such a sweet name for such a lost soul),regarded him as just another cat.She fed him with her milk only when his loud cries interrupted her peace.She glared at him with not the love of a mother,but with the glares of an enemy or a traitor.
Warrior~
The instant Strife was no longer weaning, he was deserted by his mother deep in NightClan territory,where he was left to suffer death by the NightClan cats.For many hours he cried,wondering where his mother had gone,where his Clan had gone.Many a time he starved himself, partly out of regret for now being a loner. He longed to be a part of a Clan again, but when he tried to ask permission he was turned away without so much a thought-and with a nasty slash on his side to remind him of his failures. Now he wanders without so much a care of the world, practically begging for his life to end and to be put out of his misery.
Codewords: The Ancient Ways, Zeik
Strife-
1. Bitter Conflict or Rivalry
Bitter and sometimes violent conflict, struggle, or rivalry.
2. Striving
Hard work to get or achieve something