Post by ~{.:Leaf:.}~ on Jan 1, 2013 23:38:47 GMT -5
Name:Whitefire
Age: 32
Gender: tom
Clan: FrostClan
Rank: Deputy
Picture:
Description: Whitefire is large short-furred pure white tom. He has a piercing amber gaze. His flank is littered with healed but still visible scars from his many scuffles and battles. His nose, most notably, has a deep slash across from it, from a powerful swipe by a MistClan warrior back during his early warriorhood. His paws are large and powerful, but sometimes make him clumsy during hunting. However, once the snow falls, he becomes camouflaged easily and his hunting improves considerably.
Personality: Whitefire has a short temper and a fiery disposition. He is a tom of action, not pensive thinking that takes up valuable time, especially during a crisis. Fortunately, his instincts are usually correct. He has a lot of pride for himself and for his clan. He is a loyal cat, fiercely dedicated to his leader, as well as to the rest of his clan mates. He can be quite argumentative and can sometimes use his deputy position to try and gain more respect. However, his leader keeps him in check. He is an ambitious cat but a fear is hidden beneath his seemingly confident abrasive demeanor. He is unsure of whether or not he'll be a good leader, the responsibility weighing down on him. Furthermore, he has fears of Starclan's opinion of him, as he was never a very religious tom.
History: Whitefire was a very spirited young kit, who enjoyed playfighting to a point where most of the other kits were afraid of him. He was scolded a lot by his mother, but it did nothing to settle down his fiery disposition. As an apprentice he honed his battling skills, but was scolded frequently for his lack of seriousness in hunting. He was too impatient and clumsy to catch even the slowest mouse. However, once leaf-bare set in, and he saw how the lack of fresh-kill was making his clan suffer he became more serious. His white fur allowed him to camouflage well in the snowy pine forest, allowing him to hunt successfully, even though he was still a bit to impatient with his stalking.
As a warrior he continued to fight and hunt for his clan to the best of his abilities. Although his argumentative nature left him with little close friends, he was still respected as a well meaning member of the clan. After a nasty battle with MistClan warriors left FrostClan deputyless, Whitefire found himself called for the position, proudly bearing the scar on his nose he received that fateful night.
RP Example: Whitefire growled lowly in frustration, swiping the ground with his large paw. The small layer of powdery snow dispersed in the air, revealing a bit of the grayish green grass that lied beneath. He had not caught a single mouse, nor vole, nor any other creature and it was already past sunhigh. He heard a small bird flutter away after his growl. He probably should not have made a sound, but he was angry and couldn't help it. He had only recently been named deputy and wanted to prove his worth by bringing in a load of fresh-kill. Leaf-bare had set in, and shortages were already being felt in the bellies of his clanmates. He gritted his sharp teeth, closing his eyes to try to calm down. He opened his mouth, tasting the crisp cold air. He faintly caught the scent of mouse, so faint it might have already been gone. But there was still a chance, and he was going to take it. He padded lightly and quietly toward his hopefully soon to be kill.
Age: 32
Gender: tom
Clan: FrostClan
Rank: Deputy
Picture:
Description: Whitefire is large short-furred pure white tom. He has a piercing amber gaze. His flank is littered with healed but still visible scars from his many scuffles and battles. His nose, most notably, has a deep slash across from it, from a powerful swipe by a MistClan warrior back during his early warriorhood. His paws are large and powerful, but sometimes make him clumsy during hunting. However, once the snow falls, he becomes camouflaged easily and his hunting improves considerably.
Personality: Whitefire has a short temper and a fiery disposition. He is a tom of action, not pensive thinking that takes up valuable time, especially during a crisis. Fortunately, his instincts are usually correct. He has a lot of pride for himself and for his clan. He is a loyal cat, fiercely dedicated to his leader, as well as to the rest of his clan mates. He can be quite argumentative and can sometimes use his deputy position to try and gain more respect. However, his leader keeps him in check. He is an ambitious cat but a fear is hidden beneath his seemingly confident abrasive demeanor. He is unsure of whether or not he'll be a good leader, the responsibility weighing down on him. Furthermore, he has fears of Starclan's opinion of him, as he was never a very religious tom.
History: Whitefire was a very spirited young kit, who enjoyed playfighting to a point where most of the other kits were afraid of him. He was scolded a lot by his mother, but it did nothing to settle down his fiery disposition. As an apprentice he honed his battling skills, but was scolded frequently for his lack of seriousness in hunting. He was too impatient and clumsy to catch even the slowest mouse. However, once leaf-bare set in, and he saw how the lack of fresh-kill was making his clan suffer he became more serious. His white fur allowed him to camouflage well in the snowy pine forest, allowing him to hunt successfully, even though he was still a bit to impatient with his stalking.
As a warrior he continued to fight and hunt for his clan to the best of his abilities. Although his argumentative nature left him with little close friends, he was still respected as a well meaning member of the clan. After a nasty battle with MistClan warriors left FrostClan deputyless, Whitefire found himself called for the position, proudly bearing the scar on his nose he received that fateful night.
RP Example: Whitefire growled lowly in frustration, swiping the ground with his large paw. The small layer of powdery snow dispersed in the air, revealing a bit of the grayish green grass that lied beneath. He had not caught a single mouse, nor vole, nor any other creature and it was already past sunhigh. He heard a small bird flutter away after his growl. He probably should not have made a sound, but he was angry and couldn't help it. He had only recently been named deputy and wanted to prove his worth by bringing in a load of fresh-kill. Leaf-bare had set in, and shortages were already being felt in the bellies of his clanmates. He gritted his sharp teeth, closing his eyes to try to calm down. He opened his mouth, tasting the crisp cold air. He faintly caught the scent of mouse, so faint it might have already been gone. But there was still a chance, and he was going to take it. He padded lightly and quietly toward his hopefully soon to be kill.