Post by Dragon on Oct 30, 2009 0:03:38 GMT -5
Name: Wetwhisker
Position: None
Clan: Rogue (Once of RiverClan)
Gender: Tom
Age: 7 years old.
Description: This is quite a suave looking cat, sleek, well groomed fur that seems much to organized and clean looking for such a rogue as he. But his cleanliness is usually disrupted when ever he comes in contact with any other cat. From then, he gets very ruffled, to an insane guise that has other just stare at his as he wants by. His body is weak, he is not a very good fighter, but he does have the root power of a male cat. But his body is plump, and slightly rounded, partially due to his lazy life style and the schlepping that he does with other cats. Feigning sickness or injury to get what he wants, and on his face is a very smug, and just shines of self-importance. Which matches, the lazy gloss in his indifferent amber eyes. It matches his almost, kit like features, that never seemed to mature fully. And still he drools, just as a sleeping kitten would do. Down his wide body, his fur is very thick, and a dark ginger. Like a orange poppy in full bloom, but not nearly as pretty. He had well-rounded darker ginger ears, that are cocked forward in his arrogance. He has distinct eye markings, like arrows going down and up upon his eyes. The plump cat has only has one short stripe high on his shoulders, that barely has him look like a true tabby. Three jagged stripes go down his flank, but stop mid way down his belly. And to finish off any hopes of tabby pattern, is a darker tail tip, that is quite wide to go with the rest of his lumbering body.
Personality: None have met one more arrogant, and smug then this cat. He doesn't care for anyone but himself, he didn't even love his own mother. He has always carried himself with pride, that disgusts even the cat with the strongest of stomachs. He brings himself higher then everyone else, and even deceives the good for his own selfish needs. He will fake his own injuries and illness to be fed freely and given the shelter over night, but sometimes the more gullible let him roost in their dens for at most a moon at a time. In these times, he unusually gains much weight and sometimes doesn't move for days at time as he cared for laboriously. He doesn't like to travel in the very least, or does he appreciate physical activity. But when he does summon up the need to move around, he does it for the she-cats of the forest. He has something of a twisted relationship with all of them. But no words, threats or injuries could keep him away from their hard stares. He stalks, and coos from the distant, often receiving hisses or common death threats. With his addiction to females, he often takes favorites, weather he enjoys their looks, or personality he is even more determined to get them. This is when, his violent fighting comes into play. He loves a good tussle, especially when it comes to she-cats. Wetwhisker will kick out an excellent fight, though he almost always looses. In these ways, his way is given away, but when the she-cat have no rivaling toms to attack, he tends to drool. His face will become very damp, from the constant dribble, when ever he is excited or aroused. But this often has cats even more turned off to him, while he thinks this is the right thing to do, even when he turns to violence. But nothing could improve his great cowardice, that could be seen even through his arrogant shell.
History: His history is quite clouded and he can hardly remember it himself from his self-indulgence and greed. Wetwhisker was born into a clan, not just any clan, an honorable clan that has a thing for water and willows. Riverclan. He followed a ruler, that he never really respected, he enjoyed to rebel against him. And this cat he followed was called Owlstar. The fat cat didn't like being rules by another, and especially didn't like being restricted in a clan where there were rules and regulations to follow. Even as a kit, he was smug, arrogant, and lazy. All the rules he would not follow, he was a total terror. He stole away into the night, and often didn't return until dawn, perfectly happy to cause his mother grief and stress. When he was punished, he would through a complete tantrum, shrieking and wailing away as if the Dark Forest had unleashed itself. He would lash out at others, with such a savage intent that blood would well beneath his puny claws. This little cat was just horrid, and sometimes a warrior was forced to pin him to the ground until he squealed for mercy.
During these tough days, he would steal and fight. And even more, he would swear and curse at his mother when even things went wrong. She didn't want to spoil him, or punish him, and she was forced to be bullied by her own son. But few were so pliant, he was often smacked across the head, and sent sprawling across the ground. This just caused his anger to curdle, and when he finally became an apprentice with two extra moons of wait he became even more reckless and cruel to those smaller, but he began to crawl from his bigger adversaries. He didn't train, he didn't hunt for them. It took him ages to become a warrior. He was two years old by the time he became a warrior. But he didn't improve, he rebelled against his leader, doing nothing to help. But the boundary of his badness came when he began to corner Bramblefire, trying to seduce the older she-cat to come to him in the night. She refused again and again, and Owlstar broke and banished him from Riverclan. He lurked for awhile, feigning illness to get fed but he soon came to trying to capture the affections of Blueestar and Snow on Fallen Branch, both failing miserably. But at one point he got to go under the stars with an attractive, but immobilized she-cat that he found in his wondering. Now, all else is yet to be revealed.
Picture:
Position: None
Clan: Rogue (Once of RiverClan)
Gender: Tom
Age: 7 years old.
Description: This is quite a suave looking cat, sleek, well groomed fur that seems much to organized and clean looking for such a rogue as he. But his cleanliness is usually disrupted when ever he comes in contact with any other cat. From then, he gets very ruffled, to an insane guise that has other just stare at his as he wants by. His body is weak, he is not a very good fighter, but he does have the root power of a male cat. But his body is plump, and slightly rounded, partially due to his lazy life style and the schlepping that he does with other cats. Feigning sickness or injury to get what he wants, and on his face is a very smug, and just shines of self-importance. Which matches, the lazy gloss in his indifferent amber eyes. It matches his almost, kit like features, that never seemed to mature fully. And still he drools, just as a sleeping kitten would do. Down his wide body, his fur is very thick, and a dark ginger. Like a orange poppy in full bloom, but not nearly as pretty. He had well-rounded darker ginger ears, that are cocked forward in his arrogance. He has distinct eye markings, like arrows going down and up upon his eyes. The plump cat has only has one short stripe high on his shoulders, that barely has him look like a true tabby. Three jagged stripes go down his flank, but stop mid way down his belly. And to finish off any hopes of tabby pattern, is a darker tail tip, that is quite wide to go with the rest of his lumbering body.
Personality: None have met one more arrogant, and smug then this cat. He doesn't care for anyone but himself, he didn't even love his own mother. He has always carried himself with pride, that disgusts even the cat with the strongest of stomachs. He brings himself higher then everyone else, and even deceives the good for his own selfish needs. He will fake his own injuries and illness to be fed freely and given the shelter over night, but sometimes the more gullible let him roost in their dens for at most a moon at a time. In these times, he unusually gains much weight and sometimes doesn't move for days at time as he cared for laboriously. He doesn't like to travel in the very least, or does he appreciate physical activity. But when he does summon up the need to move around, he does it for the she-cats of the forest. He has something of a twisted relationship with all of them. But no words, threats or injuries could keep him away from their hard stares. He stalks, and coos from the distant, often receiving hisses or common death threats. With his addiction to females, he often takes favorites, weather he enjoys their looks, or personality he is even more determined to get them. This is when, his violent fighting comes into play. He loves a good tussle, especially when it comes to she-cats. Wetwhisker will kick out an excellent fight, though he almost always looses. In these ways, his way is given away, but when the she-cat have no rivaling toms to attack, he tends to drool. His face will become very damp, from the constant dribble, when ever he is excited or aroused. But this often has cats even more turned off to him, while he thinks this is the right thing to do, even when he turns to violence. But nothing could improve his great cowardice, that could be seen even through his arrogant shell.
History: His history is quite clouded and he can hardly remember it himself from his self-indulgence and greed. Wetwhisker was born into a clan, not just any clan, an honorable clan that has a thing for water and willows. Riverclan. He followed a ruler, that he never really respected, he enjoyed to rebel against him. And this cat he followed was called Owlstar. The fat cat didn't like being rules by another, and especially didn't like being restricted in a clan where there were rules and regulations to follow. Even as a kit, he was smug, arrogant, and lazy. All the rules he would not follow, he was a total terror. He stole away into the night, and often didn't return until dawn, perfectly happy to cause his mother grief and stress. When he was punished, he would through a complete tantrum, shrieking and wailing away as if the Dark Forest had unleashed itself. He would lash out at others, with such a savage intent that blood would well beneath his puny claws. This little cat was just horrid, and sometimes a warrior was forced to pin him to the ground until he squealed for mercy.
During these tough days, he would steal and fight. And even more, he would swear and curse at his mother when even things went wrong. She didn't want to spoil him, or punish him, and she was forced to be bullied by her own son. But few were so pliant, he was often smacked across the head, and sent sprawling across the ground. This just caused his anger to curdle, and when he finally became an apprentice with two extra moons of wait he became even more reckless and cruel to those smaller, but he began to crawl from his bigger adversaries. He didn't train, he didn't hunt for them. It took him ages to become a warrior. He was two years old by the time he became a warrior. But he didn't improve, he rebelled against his leader, doing nothing to help. But the boundary of his badness came when he began to corner Bramblefire, trying to seduce the older she-cat to come to him in the night. She refused again and again, and Owlstar broke and banished him from Riverclan. He lurked for awhile, feigning illness to get fed but he soon came to trying to capture the affections of Blueestar and Snow on Fallen Branch, both failing miserably. But at one point he got to go under the stars with an attractive, but immobilized she-cat that he found in his wondering. Now, all else is yet to be revealed.
Picture:
