Post by Maxx on Nov 3, 2007 23:46:22 GMT -5
Name: Winterheart
Gender: She-cat
Clan: DawnClan
Rank: Warrior
Age: 32moons
Short Description: A silver furred she-cat with large amber eyes. Devoted to her clan.
Appearance:
Gender: She-cat
Clan: DawnClan
Rank: Warrior
Age: 32moons
Short Description: A silver furred she-cat with large amber eyes. Devoted to her clan.
Appearance:
Winterheart is an athletic silver ticked tabby that bears an uncanny resemblance to a little fox, with large ears, masked face, full ruff, and bushy tail. She has firm muscle tone, and supports a lithe stature; her musculature merely enhances her well-balanced anatomy. Her face, which is soft and pleasant to look at, usually portrays an interested and curious expression, and is emphasized by the dark bands and pale ticking of her mask. This peculiar, continuous attention to her surroundings gives her an almost panther-like bearing: smooth and cautious, but in no way afraid of her natural environment.Personality:
Her head is wedge-shaped, with soft, rounded contours that gently transition from her brow, nose, and muzzle. Her chin is full, but not bulky, and supplements a sense of dignity in the noble face of this warrior she-cat. In profile, there is a gentle curve that cups the crest of her skull and pours into her arched neck; this in turn is fleshed with a flaring, full ruff that compliments her face. Her eyes are large, expressive, and almond shaped, and painted with rich saffron and amber colors that are accented by thin tendrils of yellow-green. Large, pricked ears are cupped at the base, and are arched forward, as if she is constantly listening; thin, black tufts at the tip of her ears are short and flatter the black ‘thumb print’ encoded on the back.
The DawnClan warrior is medium in size, with a well-developed muscular system and powerful physique. Her back is slightly arched, and gives the impression that she is perpetually about to spring. Her flanks are level, with no pronounced tuck-up; she is well proportioned and carries a striking conformation. Long legs are well built, and svelte, rounding out to compact, curved paws. The pads of which are a pale pinkish color, sometimes interrupted with splotches of black, and have been scarred over from natural travels taken over her lifetime. However, it is her tail, which is full and long, tapering to a curled tip, that she finds attractive; banded with dark and lighter slated colors, it is thick and full, with long flowing fur.
Her coat is thick and dense, with a lustrous sheen and fine texture. It is of medium length and lies close to her body, and is longest along her spine and tail, and thins around her flanks, legs, and across her shoulder blades. It is a cold silver-gray smoky color, which appears somewhat translucent in her gait; an illusion formed by the white undercoat and slated silver bands of her topcoat. Darkest at the spine, her pelt fades into a pale pearl complexion near her underside, chest, and legs that harmonizes with the contrasting darker shades topside. Two black ovals are imprinted on the back of her ears, and the tip of her tail. Slate gray markings are somewhat apparent on her face, and in virtually invisible marbled patterns in her coat.
The DawnClan warrior is typically a jovial individual, with a steadfast loyalty to her clan, and to StarClan and the code of the warrior. When she makes an oath, she is bound to keep it come what may, and seems almost hell-bent to achieve what goals she promised to others. However, despite how committed she may be to keeping her word, Winterheart also upholds a code of honor – namely, the Warrior Code, and will not break tradition with it for any reason whatsoever, regardless of the pleas of others. She is dedicated to that policy of honor, and is a generous, and honest creature.History:
Then again, Winterheart is also an impulsive, and sometimes rash clan cat, and sometimes makes decisions based on purely emotional motives. The impetuous nature of the warrior would have her be the sort to see the lever, and pull it while simultaneously saying, “What’s this do?” As if to accommodate for this brash behavior, Winterheart is once again resolute in her opinions. Arguing with her would be like quarreling with a brick wall; she is set in her ways and will happily try to convince everyone of the veracity of her point of view. As a matter of fact, she is unlikely to notice how frustrated others may become with her.
Yet, informal in manner, sociable and friendly, Winterheart is always delighted to lend help to those less fortunate or in need, and is always looking for ways to benefit the clan. Though she may be highly opinionated, and bullheaded, the silver warrior is a devoted member to DawnClan, and is generally an optimistic, good-humored, and life-loving entity as is per usual with her DawnClan companions.
I read the histories of fellow clan cats and incorporated some of the events; I hope that’s all right?
Winterheart was the single kit in her litter, although her adventurous nature would soon make up for her lack of brothers and sisters. Her name, in respect to the obvious, was given for the color of her pelt, which seemed as white as snow during her younger days. She grew swiftly into a strong and healthy apprentice: Winterpaw, and began her apprenticeship under a mercurial warrior by the name of Lionclaw. He was a fantastic mentor, and she flourished into the competent, confidant young apprentice who was soon given her warrior name: Winterheart.RP Sample:
It was soon after this that fox attacks grew more incessant, and resulted in several deaths: including the death of the new Medicine Cat’s sister, Hollyfeather, and then a fellow, recently ascended warrior named Morningstripe. Although Winterheart didn’t have a strong relationship with either cat, she felt an affinity for them through their kinship with DawnClan, and took the deaths personally. She felt spiteful, and decided to take out vengeance for the death of her fellow clan mates. In an experience she recalls vividly, Winterheart tracked the foxes responsible for Morningstripe’s death from the river (which took much longer than it should have, Winterheart has no notable ability in tracking), and almost clashed with one near the northern border. The reckless warrior, believing she was invincible simply because she wasn’t yet dead, almost confronted the creature but was saved when Lionclaw, once her mentor, came from behind and convinced her that exacting revenge would be a bad idea. She complied, but has since had an extreme hatred for the vulpine species.
She has since settled into a life of normality, however, and lives out her days relatively happy and cheerful. Though she hasn’t made any best friends with the fellow members of her clan, she looks forward to spending everyday with those she’s grown familiar to, and the beautiful country that she calls home.
In the evening she escaped the duties that occupied the vast majority of her time, venturing out into the weather to a large log covered in a shawl of frost. It had fallen the previous autumn, when the leaves were flushed with color and the earth smelt moist and damp, as it did now. The air felt bright and cold against her face, and a cool breeze stroked her fur as she padded quietly betwixt the whispering evergreens that vaulted into the slated gray sky, their archaic words trembling in the subdued evening half-light like authors to a million stories. Her prick ears shivered, and flexed forward to cup the ancient murmurs in their delicate passages, as if she were privy to some great imagining that StarClan had once dreamed into being but had forgotten long ago. She expelled a cloud of air she just now realized she had been holding, and Winterheart smiled to see her breath vanish in a cloud of semi-transparent vapor.
The DawnClan warrior came almost unexpectedly to the clearing shared between her clan and that of the Needle, a look of surprise surfacing on her face as she came to a standstill and looked out across the scenic field, her striking amber eyes blinking rapidly once, twice. Her expression hardened, and her tail lashed out to one side to signify her disappointment, for it was obvious she would have no time to visit the fallen log tonight, as she had somehow taken the wrong direction. Winterheart sighed, and gently dropped to her haunches along the tree line that flanked the glade, beginning to wash one forepaw with a stirring attention to detail; the delicate curve of her fifth claw, and the rough skin of her pads. She seemed so enamored in her work that it was almost startling that Winterheart should suddenly lift her head, eyes wide and whiskers tingling, when the unique, sour smell of fox emerged from the wood behind her. Winterheart flicked her tail and pulled back an ear, but it would seem that the vulpine was nowhere in her immediate vicinity.
Winterheart drew back her whiskers and stood, immediately glancing back around into the thick, elongated shadows of the forest. Contorted by bad light, the woodland suddenly seemed suspicious and treacherous; the whispers of majestic spruce transformed into ghastly rumors and gossip of treason. Winterheart mumbled softly under her breath, a subconscious stream of words that somehow arranged themselves into a simple prayer to StarClan, a habit she had acquired from her mentor. Then, resignedly and with her heartbeat pulsing in her ears, she shouldered her way back into the thick and wild country of DawnClan territory, pushing through the undergrowth with a haunted look in her eyes as she searched for the trespassing fox, hoping not to discover it had already visited her clan camp.