Post by Winter on Apr 5, 2008 13:00:18 GMT -5
Name: Kestrelclaw
Age: 32 moons
Gender: Tom
Clan: ShadowClan
Position: Warrior
Exterior Description: He is a dark tabby, and slightly bengal, tom with a lucid ivory-colored base pelt. His coat is faintly tinged with a scarlet and crimson color that bleaches as it reaches his extremities. His tail is where this color shows the strongest, yet seems to tarnish near his legs and tail and mold chestnut stripes. His legs have a perplexing extension, as well as tincture, so this color eventually hues into unnatural saturations that are quite alluring. However, more than half of his body is guised by a thick layer of a smoky argent shade that prevails his back, tail, and face. It fuses with the dominant white of the rest of his body and dilutes to scarce silver. Many perfectly shaped blemishes cover his body, giving him a deceitfully peaceful appearance. Most of these speckles are pitching gray, which contrast beautifully with the rest of his jacket. His face is also sheathed by these stripes, but they are reduced in range and semblance. This splotches display their perfection more clearly in his tail, for they delicately wrap it. Not only do they envelop it in utter precision, they forge plated rings that adverse decently with the original trace of his tail.
Despite his enthralling coat, the tom's eyes are the ones that captivate more attention. Not for their beauty, but for the secrets they veil. His eyes are of an opaque amber color. Many cats with his breed have similar eyes, yet, his are different in an indescribable way. They seem to be ravishing but are insidious; they seem to gleam in the darkness but barely sparkle during the day; they seem to preserve harmony but only retain hate. Clancats judge others for their reflection of themselves in their eyes. But his eyes do not reflect anything of him. They are confusing, for when another cat scrutinizes his gaze, that cat is deceived by the kinship they seem to emit. Kestrelclaw is aware of that skill he has and uses it for his benefit. No cat has ever unleashed the truth hidden within those absorbing beacons. What they really eclipse is the vehement and bloodthirsty this tom really is. His eyes are his most powerful weapon for this reason. He doubts there will be any cat alive to truly reveal this mystery.
Interior Description: Like most rogues, he is an independent and selfish cat that only minds his own business. He does not have any friends, or acquaintances, or family. He is proud of his depraved social life and is not seeking for the affection of anybody. Yet, his graceful demeanor makes others perceive him as a supple tom and grant him with their benevolence. But he is wise and rejects this devotion in a way they can not argue with. He avoids making enemies in the path of life and anybody that shallowly apprehends his elegant personality (for it is the only one he exhibits) speculates this tom lives in a peaceful and calmed world. However, between many of his mysteries, he’s prosecuted by so many beasts (humans, dogs, and otters included) it is ironical how he has no fiend in the forest of the clans. They all neglect how detestable and gruesome this tom really is. He has a resplendent exterior, yes, but on the inside, he's able of rippling and twisting one's soul. He has never had the ambition of helping others or has never done so. Of course, he pretends to be a fascinating tom whenever he is questioned and nobody is privilege enough to receive an unfeigned reply. He scorns cats that have half-blood roots yet cherishes rogues and loners, those of his kind. When he reached the forest of the clans he adapted a new identity and joined the only clan he thought could fulfill his terrifying requirements. He has little faith in StarClan, the warrior ancestors his clanmates glorify, but fakes to be a believer for the approval of others.
In spite of his deceitful character, Kestrelclaw is conspicuously smart. All his life this tom has been outstanding by his creativity, his talents, and his wits. He has never judged a cat wrong for he has the criteria many lack of. He is very cunning when it comes to achieve what he wants. He simulates to be gentle and somewhat understanding for that is the personality many others seek refuge in. He likes doing things his own way and does not like to be ordered around. He is very doctrinal about hunting and patrolling, probably because of his not-very-young age. Something that will never relinquish from this tom is his searing pride. He would never dare accept defeat and would do what it takes to win. Victory and dignity are drugs that stimulate his brain. They make him do unthinkable things which he is never regretful of. The risks he takes only seem to increase his self-confidence and make him more the tom he is.
History: The other cats’ perception of Kestrelclaw is a false yet opulent view that is astounding to every living soul that has heard it. To them, Kestrelclaw is a pure blood ShadowClanner, whose life started in its territory. The story the tom narrates is an amusing and gripping one that stuns all kittens and even elders. He rehearses a fake tale in which he traversed into unknown lands when he was a nameless kit after his parents sacrificed themselves for him in front of a Twoleg monster. He’s too proud to admit they died so he tells they survived, yet the Twolegs kidnapped them. Ever since the incident, he talks about how he was thrust into a world without the nourishment of his parents. He found his own way into the forest, living out of sprouts and roots for several moons. But then, a ThunderClan family found him and brought him into their clan. He was baptized as a ThunderClanner and was granted the opportunity of having a mentor and become an apprentice. Yet, he always felt he was being disloyal to his original clan and, one day, he spoke to the former ThunderClan leader and requested him the permission of returning to ShadowClan camp. He was a stern leader, but Kestrelpaw was diplomatic and his desire was accomplished. He became a ShadowClanner just in time for his warrior ceremony. The ShadowClan burrow has been his home ever since. That’s the history more than half of the ShadowClan is craving to have lived. That’s the history he brilliantly made up to have a proper living in this clan.
For obvious reasons, Kestrelclaw’s story is just part of his many lies. In fact, its actually one of the smallest ones. He is not a pure ShadowClanner, or ThunderClanner, or RiverClanner, or WindClanner. He was not born in the forest of the clans. His ancestors are the ones the clans loathe: rogues. This tom has pure blood rogue heritage. He was born within the rogues’ wrath deep in the abysmal mountains. His family was not only rogues; they were the forefathers of the most feared and execrated clan any mountain cat can recall. Its name itself expresses odium: HeartlessClan. He was trained as a warrior by his parents and was prepared to be their heir. The tom had born healthy, in contrast with the other kits, which died weeks after their birth. His mother, Deathsky, was his mentor and probably the only feline in the world he has loved. Deathsky, however, was just like all the other Heartlessclanners. Macabre, grim, and appalling. She and her mate, Hatewhisker, were the leaders of the clan. Deathsky had reign over Hatewhisker and therefore had more authority over the rogues. She was also merciless and made her son train like no other HeartlessClanner has ever trained before. Yet, that made Kestrelclaw worship his mom's dedication even more.
Moons rapidly passed and he became a warrior. But not with the name of Kestrelclaw. As an apprentice or kit, he had a classification. Because there were not many kittens in the HeartlessClan camp, they were given numbers. He was 'Brute #04'. Once he became a warrior, his mother bestowed him the name of Vociferous, for she thought it was the one that best represented him. Vociferous was the only one of his generation that managed to survive the atrocious weather of the mountains and, therefore, became famous. He was also an excellent prey hunter and had assailed cats that had meandered near his territory. Proud of her son's vitality, Deathsky sent Vociferous to a quest. She ordered him to travel into the faraway forest of the clans to send one of her friends there back to hell. His name was Firestar, a tom from the clan called ThunderClan. He had some unconcluded business with her and she wanted Vociferous to mend it. In other words, slaughter the ThunderClan leader.
On an crisp dawn, the tom left his clan and his mother. He hid any nostalgia and boldly faced his destiny. His mother admitted she would miss him and that she loved him. But that she'd hate him if he dared to return without accomplishing her command. Vociferous promised he would and traversed into the unknown land. The tom was agile and, some months later, he managed to reach the sacred territory. Because of Deathsky's descriptions, he knew where the ThunderClan camp was and reached it with no issues. The ThunderClanners were vulnerable in his eyes and, after all his training, he managed to be in an encounter with Firestar. Vociferous wrangled with all his might, yet so did the clan's leader. It took several hours for the rogue to corner victory and grin in satisfaction after Firestar's near defeat.
But something happened. Something he is too ashamed to admit. As he was about to summon his last strain, something seemed to bring Firestar back to life. That increased the adrenaline of the battle and of the rogue himself. Yet again, as they kept fighting, that something made Vociferous feel something he had not felt before: love. That something kept aiding Firestar and made Vociferous more jealous. He kept fighting but the something was too strong. At the end, Firestar attained victory, and the rogue was kicked off their territory. That something happened to be another cat. That something happened to be a femcat. That something happened to be called Snowlily.
After his failure, Vociferous was lost. He did not know where to go or what to do. His mother would most certainly kill him. And the clan cats loathed rogues. Yet something in him was hopeful. He still recalled Snowlily's face. He later found out she was a clan cat, a warrior of ThunderClan. She was so perfect, so delicate... He learned to love by loving her. But then, Deathsky kept taunting him. His passion for Snowlily was stronger, and it became a drug. He thought of a way of getting near her. So he became a clan cat. He despised ThunderClan and the other clans so he managed to join ShadowClan, where he found others like him. Another name was granted to him, the one he accepted reluctantly: Kestrelclaw. Every gathering, he sneaked to the ThunderClan line and catch glimpses of his cherished one. He was more and more in love with her, even thought he knew she loathed him.
Kestrelclaw's paroxysm for Snowlily broke boundaries and his way of thinking. It was so strong he one day dared to patrol near the ThunderClan territory. It was night, so no soul could spot him. He had learned about the warriors' den and smiled as he saw Snowlily's curled outline over it. He later ran back to ShadowClan, sweat dreams on his mind, neglecting the fact that that would be the next time he'd see her. The next day was a new gathering. Firestar announced a death that stirred everybody's spines. Their warrior, Snowlily, had been slaughtered by a rogue. Kestrelclaw's heart rippled into pieces. After that, he disdained any possible emotion for anybody and became senseless again. He has few faith on feeling the same way for another creature again. He is graceful that Vociferous is gone so that he can feel no emotion again. He has a new identity and is planning to live with it until he perishes. Now, he won't love Snowlily's memory anymore. He won't love his mother anymore. Kestrelclaw will be Kestrelclaw and will never be defied with feelings again.
Memory: An obscure blemish was protruding from a rummage of gruesome vines. They were morassed together and shrouded everything from view. In spite of the mayhem the weeds panoplied, they imperceptibly twanged to concede the duskish smudge admission to the clearing. But they were so embroiled that the squirm wasn’t enough. The Stygian patch gruelingly eschewed and as it did so, so did the shrews. Finally, the clearing was visible to his eyes and as the moon’s beacons eclipsed the meadow, the splotch took the shape of a feline who had a burnished and ample scheme. His immense shoulders flaunted vigor and power, in contrast with his abounding bruises, which didn’t seem to discard the chaotic slough of the tom. However, his aurorally tawny eyes yielded with such ferociousness they concealed his abrasions. Kestrelclaw, the young ShadowClanner, flinged a sigh and began to meander around the place, besieging the thorns and brambles that had ambushed his groomed coat. The sprouts weren’t the only ones to be reproached, since the fox that had assailed him had created most of his wounds. But he was still alive, and despite his lesions, he felt great. Kestrelclaw leaned and slanged a waft. Even though he had slaughtered the animal, its bouquet kept overwhelming his nose trills. He instead began to think in how satisfied he felt after his victory, which always pacified his pain.
Other: .x. .x.
Age: 32 moons
Gender: Tom
Clan: ShadowClan
Position: Warrior
Exterior Description: He is a dark tabby, and slightly bengal, tom with a lucid ivory-colored base pelt. His coat is faintly tinged with a scarlet and crimson color that bleaches as it reaches his extremities. His tail is where this color shows the strongest, yet seems to tarnish near his legs and tail and mold chestnut stripes. His legs have a perplexing extension, as well as tincture, so this color eventually hues into unnatural saturations that are quite alluring. However, more than half of his body is guised by a thick layer of a smoky argent shade that prevails his back, tail, and face. It fuses with the dominant white of the rest of his body and dilutes to scarce silver. Many perfectly shaped blemishes cover his body, giving him a deceitfully peaceful appearance. Most of these speckles are pitching gray, which contrast beautifully with the rest of his jacket. His face is also sheathed by these stripes, but they are reduced in range and semblance. This splotches display their perfection more clearly in his tail, for they delicately wrap it. Not only do they envelop it in utter precision, they forge plated rings that adverse decently with the original trace of his tail.
Despite his enthralling coat, the tom's eyes are the ones that captivate more attention. Not for their beauty, but for the secrets they veil. His eyes are of an opaque amber color. Many cats with his breed have similar eyes, yet, his are different in an indescribable way. They seem to be ravishing but are insidious; they seem to gleam in the darkness but barely sparkle during the day; they seem to preserve harmony but only retain hate. Clancats judge others for their reflection of themselves in their eyes. But his eyes do not reflect anything of him. They are confusing, for when another cat scrutinizes his gaze, that cat is deceived by the kinship they seem to emit. Kestrelclaw is aware of that skill he has and uses it for his benefit. No cat has ever unleashed the truth hidden within those absorbing beacons. What they really eclipse is the vehement and bloodthirsty this tom really is. His eyes are his most powerful weapon for this reason. He doubts there will be any cat alive to truly reveal this mystery.
Interior Description: Like most rogues, he is an independent and selfish cat that only minds his own business. He does not have any friends, or acquaintances, or family. He is proud of his depraved social life and is not seeking for the affection of anybody. Yet, his graceful demeanor makes others perceive him as a supple tom and grant him with their benevolence. But he is wise and rejects this devotion in a way they can not argue with. He avoids making enemies in the path of life and anybody that shallowly apprehends his elegant personality (for it is the only one he exhibits) speculates this tom lives in a peaceful and calmed world. However, between many of his mysteries, he’s prosecuted by so many beasts (humans, dogs, and otters included) it is ironical how he has no fiend in the forest of the clans. They all neglect how detestable and gruesome this tom really is. He has a resplendent exterior, yes, but on the inside, he's able of rippling and twisting one's soul. He has never had the ambition of helping others or has never done so. Of course, he pretends to be a fascinating tom whenever he is questioned and nobody is privilege enough to receive an unfeigned reply. He scorns cats that have half-blood roots yet cherishes rogues and loners, those of his kind. When he reached the forest of the clans he adapted a new identity and joined the only clan he thought could fulfill his terrifying requirements. He has little faith in StarClan, the warrior ancestors his clanmates glorify, but fakes to be a believer for the approval of others.
In spite of his deceitful character, Kestrelclaw is conspicuously smart. All his life this tom has been outstanding by his creativity, his talents, and his wits. He has never judged a cat wrong for he has the criteria many lack of. He is very cunning when it comes to achieve what he wants. He simulates to be gentle and somewhat understanding for that is the personality many others seek refuge in. He likes doing things his own way and does not like to be ordered around. He is very doctrinal about hunting and patrolling, probably because of his not-very-young age. Something that will never relinquish from this tom is his searing pride. He would never dare accept defeat and would do what it takes to win. Victory and dignity are drugs that stimulate his brain. They make him do unthinkable things which he is never regretful of. The risks he takes only seem to increase his self-confidence and make him more the tom he is.
History: The other cats’ perception of Kestrelclaw is a false yet opulent view that is astounding to every living soul that has heard it. To them, Kestrelclaw is a pure blood ShadowClanner, whose life started in its territory. The story the tom narrates is an amusing and gripping one that stuns all kittens and even elders. He rehearses a fake tale in which he traversed into unknown lands when he was a nameless kit after his parents sacrificed themselves for him in front of a Twoleg monster. He’s too proud to admit they died so he tells they survived, yet the Twolegs kidnapped them. Ever since the incident, he talks about how he was thrust into a world without the nourishment of his parents. He found his own way into the forest, living out of sprouts and roots for several moons. But then, a ThunderClan family found him and brought him into their clan. He was baptized as a ThunderClanner and was granted the opportunity of having a mentor and become an apprentice. Yet, he always felt he was being disloyal to his original clan and, one day, he spoke to the former ThunderClan leader and requested him the permission of returning to ShadowClan camp. He was a stern leader, but Kestrelpaw was diplomatic and his desire was accomplished. He became a ShadowClanner just in time for his warrior ceremony. The ShadowClan burrow has been his home ever since. That’s the history more than half of the ShadowClan is craving to have lived. That’s the history he brilliantly made up to have a proper living in this clan.
For obvious reasons, Kestrelclaw’s story is just part of his many lies. In fact, its actually one of the smallest ones. He is not a pure ShadowClanner, or ThunderClanner, or RiverClanner, or WindClanner. He was not born in the forest of the clans. His ancestors are the ones the clans loathe: rogues. This tom has pure blood rogue heritage. He was born within the rogues’ wrath deep in the abysmal mountains. His family was not only rogues; they were the forefathers of the most feared and execrated clan any mountain cat can recall. Its name itself expresses odium: HeartlessClan. He was trained as a warrior by his parents and was prepared to be their heir. The tom had born healthy, in contrast with the other kits, which died weeks after their birth. His mother, Deathsky, was his mentor and probably the only feline in the world he has loved. Deathsky, however, was just like all the other Heartlessclanners. Macabre, grim, and appalling. She and her mate, Hatewhisker, were the leaders of the clan. Deathsky had reign over Hatewhisker and therefore had more authority over the rogues. She was also merciless and made her son train like no other HeartlessClanner has ever trained before. Yet, that made Kestrelclaw worship his mom's dedication even more.
Moons rapidly passed and he became a warrior. But not with the name of Kestrelclaw. As an apprentice or kit, he had a classification. Because there were not many kittens in the HeartlessClan camp, they were given numbers. He was 'Brute #04'. Once he became a warrior, his mother bestowed him the name of Vociferous, for she thought it was the one that best represented him. Vociferous was the only one of his generation that managed to survive the atrocious weather of the mountains and, therefore, became famous. He was also an excellent prey hunter and had assailed cats that had meandered near his territory. Proud of her son's vitality, Deathsky sent Vociferous to a quest. She ordered him to travel into the faraway forest of the clans to send one of her friends there back to hell. His name was Firestar, a tom from the clan called ThunderClan. He had some unconcluded business with her and she wanted Vociferous to mend it. In other words, slaughter the ThunderClan leader.
On an crisp dawn, the tom left his clan and his mother. He hid any nostalgia and boldly faced his destiny. His mother admitted she would miss him and that she loved him. But that she'd hate him if he dared to return without accomplishing her command. Vociferous promised he would and traversed into the unknown land. The tom was agile and, some months later, he managed to reach the sacred territory. Because of Deathsky's descriptions, he knew where the ThunderClan camp was and reached it with no issues. The ThunderClanners were vulnerable in his eyes and, after all his training, he managed to be in an encounter with Firestar. Vociferous wrangled with all his might, yet so did the clan's leader. It took several hours for the rogue to corner victory and grin in satisfaction after Firestar's near defeat.
But something happened. Something he is too ashamed to admit. As he was about to summon his last strain, something seemed to bring Firestar back to life. That increased the adrenaline of the battle and of the rogue himself. Yet again, as they kept fighting, that something made Vociferous feel something he had not felt before: love. That something kept aiding Firestar and made Vociferous more jealous. He kept fighting but the something was too strong. At the end, Firestar attained victory, and the rogue was kicked off their territory. That something happened to be another cat. That something happened to be a femcat. That something happened to be called Snowlily.
After his failure, Vociferous was lost. He did not know where to go or what to do. His mother would most certainly kill him. And the clan cats loathed rogues. Yet something in him was hopeful. He still recalled Snowlily's face. He later found out she was a clan cat, a warrior of ThunderClan. She was so perfect, so delicate... He learned to love by loving her. But then, Deathsky kept taunting him. His passion for Snowlily was stronger, and it became a drug. He thought of a way of getting near her. So he became a clan cat. He despised ThunderClan and the other clans so he managed to join ShadowClan, where he found others like him. Another name was granted to him, the one he accepted reluctantly: Kestrelclaw. Every gathering, he sneaked to the ThunderClan line and catch glimpses of his cherished one. He was more and more in love with her, even thought he knew she loathed him.
Kestrelclaw's paroxysm for Snowlily broke boundaries and his way of thinking. It was so strong he one day dared to patrol near the ThunderClan territory. It was night, so no soul could spot him. He had learned about the warriors' den and smiled as he saw Snowlily's curled outline over it. He later ran back to ShadowClan, sweat dreams on his mind, neglecting the fact that that would be the next time he'd see her. The next day was a new gathering. Firestar announced a death that stirred everybody's spines. Their warrior, Snowlily, had been slaughtered by a rogue. Kestrelclaw's heart rippled into pieces. After that, he disdained any possible emotion for anybody and became senseless again. He has few faith on feeling the same way for another creature again. He is graceful that Vociferous is gone so that he can feel no emotion again. He has a new identity and is planning to live with it until he perishes. Now, he won't love Snowlily's memory anymore. He won't love his mother anymore. Kestrelclaw will be Kestrelclaw and will never be defied with feelings again.
Memory: An obscure blemish was protruding from a rummage of gruesome vines. They were morassed together and shrouded everything from view. In spite of the mayhem the weeds panoplied, they imperceptibly twanged to concede the duskish smudge admission to the clearing. But they were so embroiled that the squirm wasn’t enough. The Stygian patch gruelingly eschewed and as it did so, so did the shrews. Finally, the clearing was visible to his eyes and as the moon’s beacons eclipsed the meadow, the splotch took the shape of a feline who had a burnished and ample scheme. His immense shoulders flaunted vigor and power, in contrast with his abounding bruises, which didn’t seem to discard the chaotic slough of the tom. However, his aurorally tawny eyes yielded with such ferociousness they concealed his abrasions. Kestrelclaw, the young ShadowClanner, flinged a sigh and began to meander around the place, besieging the thorns and brambles that had ambushed his groomed coat. The sprouts weren’t the only ones to be reproached, since the fox that had assailed him had created most of his wounds. But he was still alive, and despite his lesions, he felt great. Kestrelclaw leaned and slanged a waft. Even though he had slaughtered the animal, its bouquet kept overwhelming his nose trills. He instead began to think in how satisfied he felt after his victory, which always pacified his pain.
Other: .x. .x.
