Post by Smokeleaf on May 15, 2010 18:57:39 GMT -5
Name: Frostfoot
Rank: Warrior
Age: Young and foolish
Gender: Tomcat
Clan: IgnitedClan
Kin: open
Mate: open
Apprentice: open
Pelt: What other color could a cat named “Frostfoot” be but white? Granted, there is a patch of gray that tufts out behind his right ear, but nobody knows if that’s his real coloring or if its from all the stress he puts himself under. His tail is large and plumy, and follows a tall, broad body. Muscles ripple from underneath his pelt, and he knows all the right poses to show them off, particularly when a pretty tortoiseshell is nearby. Scars riddle his pelt, from both battle and his many accidents. There are a lot more than you see, however; while he does like to show off a few wounds, he does recognize that he has more than a hero should, and grooms his fur to hide the unnecessary accumulation. He has surprisingly little ash on his pelt, but only because he’s constantly licking himself clean. Not only should a hero be hygienic, he thinks, but noticeable, and being whiter than the others does tend to be conspicuous.
Eyes: Somehow or other, Frostfoot manages to describe his green eyes as “flaming.” How he is able to do so, nobody knows. They aren’t naturally wide, but he does tend to keep them as open as possible, because it looks more dramatic when he narrows them threateningly. Drama is his passion; he often wears distorted faces to make up for his unexpressive eyes. Almost no emotion leaks through his peepers, causing them to be his least favorite characteristic.
Personality: If you were to go to the dictionary and look up the word “humble,” you would see a picture of Frostfoot. Then you would realize that you had turned to the wrong page and were looking at the word “haughty.” Well, maybe haughty isn’t the right word. Overbearing is much more fitting. It’s not like he thinks he’s the best. He just wants to be the best, and works a little too hard to get there. Frostfoot is obsessed with being the hero, a cat’s version of a knight in shining armor (maybe a warrior in a tin can), and he’ll do anything to get there. Hunting, fighting, gathering herbs—you name it, he’s doing it, trying to honor his Clan and impress all the pretty she-cats. He’ll offer to lead any and every patrol, and charges into battle claws unsheathed and flailing. If battle is rare (as it usually is in leaf-bare), he’ll find his own stunts to perform, and is quite the daredevil. Opinions leak from his tongue like water from a fountain. Don’t get me wrong; he’s well-intentioned. All he wants to do is lead, but without having to be in the position. His greatest dream is finding the heat vent, then humbly declining when offered to be leader. He would be immortalized forever! *happy sigh* Instead, he has to be content with being second-best and most annoying. He’s also a little she-cat crazy. Ladies, beware.
History: With a personality like his, many cats tend to think he was reckless as a kit, and was constantly trying to escape from camp. This is entirely false. He never even considered leaving as a kit, and instead spent his entire childhood with the elders. It wasn’t possible to get him away. He was obsessed with their stories, and insisted on spending every waking minute hearing about the heroes of old. As an apprentice, he was a bit more subtle about his visits, but every day would be either clearing their bedding, removing ticks, or bringing them enough fresh-kill to feed the Clan. It was around this time that he became an honor-obsessed daredevil. As a warrior, he visits she-cats more often than he does the elders, but his visits to his old friends are still more frequent than most cats.
Other: none
Rank: Warrior
Age: Young and foolish
Gender: Tomcat
Clan: IgnitedClan
Kin: open
Mate: open
Apprentice: open
Pelt: What other color could a cat named “Frostfoot” be but white? Granted, there is a patch of gray that tufts out behind his right ear, but nobody knows if that’s his real coloring or if its from all the stress he puts himself under. His tail is large and plumy, and follows a tall, broad body. Muscles ripple from underneath his pelt, and he knows all the right poses to show them off, particularly when a pretty tortoiseshell is nearby. Scars riddle his pelt, from both battle and his many accidents. There are a lot more than you see, however; while he does like to show off a few wounds, he does recognize that he has more than a hero should, and grooms his fur to hide the unnecessary accumulation. He has surprisingly little ash on his pelt, but only because he’s constantly licking himself clean. Not only should a hero be hygienic, he thinks, but noticeable, and being whiter than the others does tend to be conspicuous.
Eyes: Somehow or other, Frostfoot manages to describe his green eyes as “flaming.” How he is able to do so, nobody knows. They aren’t naturally wide, but he does tend to keep them as open as possible, because it looks more dramatic when he narrows them threateningly. Drama is his passion; he often wears distorted faces to make up for his unexpressive eyes. Almost no emotion leaks through his peepers, causing them to be his least favorite characteristic.
Personality: If you were to go to the dictionary and look up the word “humble,” you would see a picture of Frostfoot. Then you would realize that you had turned to the wrong page and were looking at the word “haughty.” Well, maybe haughty isn’t the right word. Overbearing is much more fitting. It’s not like he thinks he’s the best. He just wants to be the best, and works a little too hard to get there. Frostfoot is obsessed with being the hero, a cat’s version of a knight in shining armor (maybe a warrior in a tin can), and he’ll do anything to get there. Hunting, fighting, gathering herbs—you name it, he’s doing it, trying to honor his Clan and impress all the pretty she-cats. He’ll offer to lead any and every patrol, and charges into battle claws unsheathed and flailing. If battle is rare (as it usually is in leaf-bare), he’ll find his own stunts to perform, and is quite the daredevil. Opinions leak from his tongue like water from a fountain. Don’t get me wrong; he’s well-intentioned. All he wants to do is lead, but without having to be in the position. His greatest dream is finding the heat vent, then humbly declining when offered to be leader. He would be immortalized forever! *happy sigh* Instead, he has to be content with being second-best and most annoying. He’s also a little she-cat crazy. Ladies, beware.
History: With a personality like his, many cats tend to think he was reckless as a kit, and was constantly trying to escape from camp. This is entirely false. He never even considered leaving as a kit, and instead spent his entire childhood with the elders. It wasn’t possible to get him away. He was obsessed with their stories, and insisted on spending every waking minute hearing about the heroes of old. As an apprentice, he was a bit more subtle about his visits, but every day would be either clearing their bedding, removing ticks, or bringing them enough fresh-kill to feed the Clan. It was around this time that he became an honor-obsessed daredevil. As a warrior, he visits she-cats more often than he does the elders, but his visits to his old friends are still more frequent than most cats.
Other: none
