Post by peo-chan~ on Nov 6, 2009 3:14:40 GMT -5
Name & Clan: Fawnpaw of RootClan
Age: 7 moons
Gender: Female (She-cat)
Allegiance: Rootclan
Rank: Apprentice
Description:
Fawnpaw is a very small cat, with a narrow muzzle ending in a little pink nose. Her eyes are a light, icy blue color. She is a typical flame point, with a splash of red on her face and a red tabby tail. The rest of her fur is a creamy white. Her fur itself is rather short and very soft, almost still kit-fluff.
Personality: If there was one word to sum up Fawnpaw, it would be pacifist. She simply can't stand any sort of violence, especially between cats. This makes her a lousy fighter, and an even worse hunter. Fawnpaw just can't bring herself to hurt any living thing, be it another cat or a squirrel. She hates any kind of conflict, and will avoid all arguments at all costs.
This is only a side of Fawnpaw's overall kindness. She always tries to make everyone feel better, even if it means taking on a little of their burden. There's a certain motherly charm to her, that tends to draw cats in. Her endless compassion to ever cat makes her very naive though, since in her mind no cat can do any wrong.
Being such a lousy apprentice, Fawnpaw has very little confidence in her own abilities. She tries her best, but she knows she'll never be a warrior RootClan can be proud of. Fawnpaw thinks she isn't good at anything. She hides these self-esteem issues from everyone else though, not wanting to be any more of a burden.
History: Fawnpaw and her brother, Blastpaw, were born one night in late-leaf fall. Her mother, Foxmask was already sick with whitecough when they were born, and the birthing only weakened her more. Whitecough soon became Greencough, and Foxmask passed away when Fawnpaw was only one moon old. She was taken in by another queen, but never really connected with her. Her father died shortly after she was apprenticed, killed by a drunk driver at one of the many thunderpaths.
Soon enough she and her brother were apprenticed, and that's where the real trouble began. While Blastpaw excels at his duties, Fawnpaw fails at every aspect of the warrior lifestyle. The only thing she's really good at is remembering; remembering the Code, remembering the moves, remembering her duties. Otherwise, she can't bring herself to hunt any piece of prey or fight another cat, even in practice. This frustrates everyone, but none more than Fawnpaw herself.
Relatives: Mother: Foxmask, deceased.
Father: Winterclaw, deceased.
Brother: Blastpaw.
Other: (Meh, I'm too lazy to make a new RP sample...Hope this'll work: )
Burnstripe didn't stop moving until the scents of RiverClan faded far into the background. Even after she didn't slow her pace. She didn't care if no one was following her, and didn't bother to look back and make sure. If she was in this alone, then so be it. She could take care of herself, after all.
Finally the dark tabby slowed to an unsteady halt, leaning against a tree for support. Since the fight with Desolatestar just the day before, Burnstripe had hardly had a moment's rest. Between being interrogated and then fighting Frostbrook, the past few hours seemed like a swirl of action and chaos.
Hot tears trickled down her cheeks, and she cursed herself for showing weakness like this. If she was to return one day, she would have to be strong, and convince her followers to be strong as well. Blinking the bothersome water out of her eyes, she whipped around to see who else had come with her.
(ps I'll be making her brother's bio in a bit...)
Age: 7 moons
Gender: Female (She-cat)
Allegiance: Rootclan
Rank: Apprentice
Description:
Fawnpaw is a very small cat, with a narrow muzzle ending in a little pink nose. Her eyes are a light, icy blue color. She is a typical flame point, with a splash of red on her face and a red tabby tail. The rest of her fur is a creamy white. Her fur itself is rather short and very soft, almost still kit-fluff.
Personality: If there was one word to sum up Fawnpaw, it would be pacifist. She simply can't stand any sort of violence, especially between cats. This makes her a lousy fighter, and an even worse hunter. Fawnpaw just can't bring herself to hurt any living thing, be it another cat or a squirrel. She hates any kind of conflict, and will avoid all arguments at all costs.
This is only a side of Fawnpaw's overall kindness. She always tries to make everyone feel better, even if it means taking on a little of their burden. There's a certain motherly charm to her, that tends to draw cats in. Her endless compassion to ever cat makes her very naive though, since in her mind no cat can do any wrong.
Being such a lousy apprentice, Fawnpaw has very little confidence in her own abilities. She tries her best, but she knows she'll never be a warrior RootClan can be proud of. Fawnpaw thinks she isn't good at anything. She hides these self-esteem issues from everyone else though, not wanting to be any more of a burden.
History: Fawnpaw and her brother, Blastpaw, were born one night in late-leaf fall. Her mother, Foxmask was already sick with whitecough when they were born, and the birthing only weakened her more. Whitecough soon became Greencough, and Foxmask passed away when Fawnpaw was only one moon old. She was taken in by another queen, but never really connected with her. Her father died shortly after she was apprenticed, killed by a drunk driver at one of the many thunderpaths.
Soon enough she and her brother were apprenticed, and that's where the real trouble began. While Blastpaw excels at his duties, Fawnpaw fails at every aspect of the warrior lifestyle. The only thing she's really good at is remembering; remembering the Code, remembering the moves, remembering her duties. Otherwise, she can't bring herself to hunt any piece of prey or fight another cat, even in practice. This frustrates everyone, but none more than Fawnpaw herself.
Relatives: Mother: Foxmask, deceased.
Father: Winterclaw, deceased.
Brother: Blastpaw.
Other: (Meh, I'm too lazy to make a new RP sample...Hope this'll work: )
Burnstripe didn't stop moving until the scents of RiverClan faded far into the background. Even after she didn't slow her pace. She didn't care if no one was following her, and didn't bother to look back and make sure. If she was in this alone, then so be it. She could take care of herself, after all.
Finally the dark tabby slowed to an unsteady halt, leaning against a tree for support. Since the fight with Desolatestar just the day before, Burnstripe had hardly had a moment's rest. Between being interrogated and then fighting Frostbrook, the past few hours seemed like a swirl of action and chaos.
Hot tears trickled down her cheeks, and she cursed herself for showing weakness like this. If she was to return one day, she would have to be strong, and convince her followers to be strong as well. Blinking the bothersome water out of her eyes, she whipped around to see who else had come with her.
(ps I'll be making her brother's bio in a bit...)
