Post by Xx;;Cedar on Oct 4, 2008 12:14:28 GMT -5
Name: Dewstream
Moons: 15 Moons
Gender: Tom
Clan: LakeClan
Rank: Warrior [Troops]
Short-Description:
Moons: 15 Moons
Gender: Tom
Clan: LakeClan
Rank: Warrior [Troops]
Short-Description:
A silver tabby tom, with white paws, and misty green-gray eyes.Picture:
flickr.com/photos/insectman/5427878/in/set-110176/Description:
Xx;; The eye is the jewel of the bodyPersonality:
Dewstream’s eyes are almost considered misty. They are a light grey color, and, when looked at, some cats claim to see mist swirling in his orbs. They almost pick up a green color to them, because of the green specks in them. His eyes are always shining, and, always bright. Cats claim that when Dewstream is deep in thought, his eyes grow mistier, the grey color building up, seeming to make them unfocused, and they tend to look like approaching storm clouds. When he is in a relatively wonderful mood, which is really his only other mood, apart from his thoughts, his eyes become more green, and defined, hard to look away from.
Xx;; The smallest feline is a masterpiece
Dewstream has a lithe defined body. He has two white front paws, and a white underbelly. He definitely does not look like the giant he was when he was a kit, for his size caught up to his features as an apprentice. He has a clear white maw, and his has a silver, grey, and black striped body, the black stripes becoming more broad and more black as they reach the tip of his tail. The stripes along his neck are less noticeable and have a lighter color to them, than the ones near his flank, and streaming down to his tail. His ears are large, helping him with his tracking skills, and his paws small, allowing his steps to be light, and stealthy, helping him while in battle, and while hunting.
Xx;; He is a picture of graceHistory:
Dewstream, from birth, had been none other than a graceful cat. Every step he takes is one as if he is floating on nothing but air. His steps are always cautious, always careful, but quick, and silent, helping with his stealthy attacks. Even in battle, Dewstream’s moves of defense are those of grace, his rolls, and his blocks, ever his bites and swipes against enemies seem so carefully planned out, as if he’d been doing it for many more moons than his age allowed.
Xx;; He is a soul of joy
Dewstream has always been a cat of happiness. Yes, he has the strong mind of a warrior, fierce and quick thinking, and yet, his actions, and personality are that of an elder, not at all in a bad way. He is sweet tempered, even kind from the most annoying, to the most irritating, and ill-tempered cats. It was how he was raised. He has never been known to start a fight, never been known to make a cat upset, or angered, he is looked upon as the cat who always makes things right. Although, sometimes, that hardly ever realistic, but, he does try to help with complications within the clan, and within a cats’ temper. His patience is sometimes looked upon as a bad thing, irritating, but sometimes is known to calm an electric and tense situation.
Xx;; a beating heart and an angel's soul, covered in furRole Playing Example:
Dewkit was the biggest of his litter. Most of the queens referred to him as the ‘gentle giant’ because he was such a large kit, with such a kind temper. He had two other littermates. Dewkit’s mother, Streampool, and father, Silvershadow, could sense good things from the kit, which didn’t get in trouble as much as his two littermates did. He never realized how important it was, that he wasn’t like his littermates. He was in the nursery, when his mother had asked him where his two littermates were. He knew, and he told her, he had never really lied a lot, and never to his mother. They had gone out to explore an abandoned fox den, near the entrance of camp. They used the hole in the wall of the nurseries brambles, to make their devilish escape. Obviously, his mother had rushed out, to go and search for them. No more than a few heartbeats later, he heard the muffled cry of his mother. He knew then, that his two littermates, his two best friends, were never coming back.
The six moons of his kithood seemed to pass ever so slowly. His mother eventually moved on with her life, and then, just like that, he was made Dewpaw. His mother moved on with her warrior duties, as did his father. His mentor was a young, kind she-cat, named Melodysong, and she taught him well. He was told he was an excellent fighter, although he didn’t quite accept the fact, always wanting to improve, to become better, he was a quick thinker, his moves graceful. He made many friends, his kind personality, and upbeat attitude for everything he did, had helped, and guided him along the way.
In a few quick passing moons, Melodysong had requested him to become a warrior. He was young, only 10 moons, but she felt he had the right attitude and all the skills to become a warrior. The leader accompanied her on his hunting test, and, of course, he caught only one thing. The leader had his ceremony postponed, until he felt Melodysong had taught him the correct way to hunt, which, of course, she had, he was just nervous, and he felt guilt wash over him, for making Melodysong look like a mouse-brain. He only tried harder, and she allowed some of the apprentices to look over Dewpaw while hunting, so he would rid of his nerves. It worked. Two moons later, she felt it was safe to ask if Dewpaw could be a warrior again. The leader, once again, accompanied Melodysong, although he was a little skittish this time, wondering if the tom would make the same mistake. He was 14 moons, no longer a large cat, his size catching up to him. He managed to catch four pieces of prey, enough to satisfy the leader, and then, he became Dewstream. His parents are both still loyal to the clan, now fully retired elders. He is now a quiet, friendly, thoughtful warrior of Lakeclan.
((I am not using Dewstream,in this Roleplay example, by the way. I will introduce this one character later on.))Other:
Ivysoul stepped, and weaved, with careful and precise movements, around and under the thick undergrowth scenting for prey. Her ears were pricked, eyes alight, and she was all ready to catch something. Anything. She took a deep breath, and caught scent of a small, yet plump, vole, just coming out from under a pile of dew encrusted leaves. She stealthily crept up to it, her wide eyes now focused and narrowed, everything around the vole a wild and crazy blur. The vole was clear, crisp, and sharp in her vision, as her mouth began to water. She took another step forward, praying to Starclan that a branch, or twig wouldn't alert the vole of her presence. Mousedung, she thought to herself, as a twig snapped. The vole lifted its head, but Ivysoul stayed as still as a statue, waiting for the vole to begin foraging for food again. As it went back to its foraging, the she-cat took one step closer, and luckily, no twig or branch snapped. She brought herself into a hunters crouch and leaped.
The she-cat landed behind the vole, her two front paws touching the ground, then her two hind paws. It was almost a silent landing. Almost. The vole had heard her landing, and began to scurry away, and as it was beginning to retreat to the safe haven of the undergrowth, Ivysoul flashed out a paw, and swiped the vole back to her. It landed with a quiet thump on the ground, and she could almost feel the tiny pitter-patter of mice, and other prey's paws scurry into the undergrowth for safety. She bit down on the vole, hearing a snap. She smiled, and dug a small hole, covering the vole up with loose soil, leaves, and small twigs.
As the she-cat wandered around, her paw steps light, and graceful, as she looked all over, for other signs of prey, she caught scent of something. She looked up, trying to find where it was coming from. Ah, a squirrel! Although, in her opinion, squirrels tasted horrible, she felt it would be an accomplishment, that she could catch one. It wasn't high up in the tree, only on the second branch up, and it looked like a thick and sturdy branch. It could easily hold her. The she-cat jumped, climbing up the tree. She was making noise, and she scolded herself, but, the squirrel didn't seem to notice. Ivysoul hopped lightly onto the first branch, and looked up. It wasn't a bad height, the first branch to the second, and instead of climbing up the tree, again, she decided she would take a risk, and jump from branch to branch.
As Ivysoul readied herself for her jump, the she-cat prayed to Starclan that she would make the leap. She knew she was making a mouse-brained decision, but, she really wanted to catch the squirrel. She looked down, and the ground seemed much farther away than it should have looked. She took a big, deep breath, and jumped. She had closed her eyes, as she felt her paws hit the branch above her. She felt like the whole tree was swaying, along with her unsteady body. When she opened her eyes, she realized that the squirrel had retreated to another branch, much, much higher than the one she was on. She decided against climbing, or jumping, for that matter.
As the she-cat began her slow descent, she hadn't realized her paw had slipped, and as soon she she knew it, she was falling. Falling fast. She let out a yowl of distress, her eyes wide and frightened, but, it was cut off as her body came in contact with the seemingly hard ground, with a loud thud. Everything around her enveloped into blackness. Her breathing slowed, but her heart was racing. She kept her eyes closed, the ground seeming to move under her body. She writhed in pain, her eyes now shut tightly, the pain in her shoulder deepening with each passing second.
