Post by ~Maestro~ on Sept 27, 2009 14:41:06 GMT -5
Name: Driftingshadow
Age: 17-moons
Gender: Tom
Clan: NightClan
Rank: Deputy
Eye Color: Bright Amber
Picture: fearchar.net/2007/March/10/misto-stares-through-smoke
Appearance:
Number of Cats: 1
Age: 17-moons
Gender: Tom
Clan: NightClan
Rank: Deputy
Eye Color: Bright Amber
Picture: fearchar.net/2007/March/10/misto-stares-through-smoke
Appearance:
Driftingshadow, by nature, is a very small cat compared to most cats who are his age. Only about the size of a senior apprentice, he was a runt. But don't underestimate him. His short pelt always seems to a bit ruffled even though it is normally kept quite clean of dirt, twigs, and such. He is almost entirely black. However, his two front paws have white socks, and the back two have white boots(one's longer). His tail is slightly longer than average, contrasting with his size. His eyes are a bright amber, like molten gold, though they express very little emotion--only occasional flickers. This cat is slim and agile, but he is well-muscled, with razor sharp claws. In battle, he relies more on speed and precision than brute strength.Personality:
Detached is the best word to describe him. Driftingshadow is not a cat of many words or emotion, although he has an iron-will. He is stubborn. It doesn't seem like he's capable of much expression. He maintains a very cold disposition, as though he does not care much for anything in particular. As a result, he keeps to himself, preferring to be left alone in most cases. When he does interact with the other cats of the group, Driftingshadow is not one to gossip or yell. Only a comment or two there, most emotions are hidden beneath the cold gaze of his eyes. Despite this, he is somewhat a rebel, and isn't one to follow the rules, stubborn. Sometimes he even sneaks out of camp at night to practice fighting and stalking and such. To him, a cat had to be well-rounded in any area.History:
It takes a lot to drag him out of his emotionless attitude. When angered, his words can be sharp and cutting. Driftingshadow is blunt, and always cuts to the point. Sometimes he may seem cold hearted, but silence is his nature. Secrecy is also a major component of his personality. Never has this cat been the touchy-feelly type. Instead, he keeps almost everything bottled up in him.
Driftingshadow also prefers nighttime to morning. As a result, he doesn't sleep all that much, able to sustain himself with just a bit of sleep. In the cover of night, he blends into the shadows, all but his eyes showing. With his calm demeanor, it makes it seem as though sometimes he is just a shadow. Though this and his nonchalant personality makes him seem like a heartless killer, this is not the case. In truth, he hates it when cats die for unnecessary reasons, even if they aren't from his clan. However, he is not very trusting, and can seem paranoid. He has excellent memory and unusually keen senses. This makes him a very light sleeper, but a sharp observer.
He is not a complete clan cat. Instead, he'd spent part of his kithood living on the edges of the clans' territories. His father, Windfur, had been born and raised in the clan. One day, Windfur met another cat, a loner.RP Example:
The pair complemented each other perfectly, and soon had kits. Two; Drift and another kit named Stone. Drift was a runt, and only about the half the size of his sibling. Stone had always took advantage of his greater size whenever he could, sometimes wounding Drift in some minor way.
Drift's thoughts were usually kept to himself, leaving the others to have to guess at his true thoughts. A few moons passed, where the family sustained themselves apart from other cats. One leafbare in particular changed his life forever: both Stone and his mother caught a sickness. They were feverish, constantly coughing, and weakened.
As the cough worsened, it became clear to any cat that they wouldn't make it. Drift remained with them, carrying a heavy heart that one day they would be taken from him. Stone and his mother died, and shortly afterward, Windfur began expressing the same symptoms. Drift kept up his nonchalant attitude, but he practiced the techniques he'd learned from Windfur with a somewhat sullen disposition.
Windfur's health worsened as the days passed. The days were growing warmer, but it did no good. Finally, as Windfur was near dying, he told Drift to seek the clans, NightClan, where he come from.
Drift stayed with Windfur until he died before setting out to find the clan cats. He was barely 5-moons, and small for his age. At first the clan thought he was just a loner's kit. However, one saw the resemblance between Drift and Windfur, and recalled how Windfur had one day run off with that she-cat. When they finally realized the cat was right, they allowed Drift into the group, becoming Driftingkit.
For a moon, he stayed in the nursery, the queens all taking turns caring for him. Most of the other kits tended to leave him alone because of his cold personality and because they thought he was small and weak. When he became an apprentice to a cat named Graywhisker, not many cats believed he would amount to very much due to his runtiness. However, Graywhisker was one of the few who believed that Driftingpaw had a lot of potential. After all, the warrior had been Windfur's apprentice, and knew how powerful the old tom was. So, Graywhisker pushed Driftingpaw harder than anybody else, longer than anyone else, and stricter than anyone else.
Before long, Driftingpaw was able to defeat all the other apprentices, and even some of the younger warriors. One day, around 10 moons, he was doing some solo hunting at night when he overheard two toms secretly plotting against Huntingstar. Without any warning, he leaped out and attacked the two cats. After awhile, one of the patrols heard the ruckus and found the two warriors battling with Driftingpaw, who was evading most of their blows.
As expected, the patrol jumped into the battle to stop it, separating the grappling trio. After taking them all back to camp, Driftingpaw immediately went to the leader before the two schemers could speak. He was made a warrior, and the cats were banished. A few moons later, a StreamClan patrol invaded in hopes of getting more territory. By then, Graywhisker had become deputy. In the battle, he was killed, which angered Driftingshadow greatly. In his fury, he fought twice as hard as any other cat. When StreamClan was finally driven off of their territory, Huntingstar made Driftingshadow deputy in place of Graywhisker.
Still sore about his missed catch, he glared at the broken twig before turning his attention towards his mentor. Stupid twig...if it wasn't lying there on the ground, that mouse would have been mine. What was it doing here on the ground anyway? I mean, they shouldn't fall off of trees so easily. His light blue eyes flicked towards the white she-cat, for a moment forgetting about the branch. He flicked his ears when a tiny scuffling sound reached his ears. Flarepaw craned his head, and soon spotted the vole Whitefox had targetted. It seemed oblivious as she crept toward it.Other:
Marveling at her noiseless approach, the young apprentice watched intently, taking mental note on the way she seemed to melt through the many obstacles of the forest. Circling around her quickly, he saw how her eyes seemed to constantly dart, taking every little thing into consideration. Suddenly she froze completely, not even the slightest movement. The change surprised the ginger tom--her constant flicking of her tail and ears gave him the impression that his mentor was not one of keep perfectly still--like now.
Flarepaw held his breath as the vole stood, alert, for several more seconds. He finally let it out as Whitefox pounced, still with barely a whisper of grass and leaves. The vole never had a chance, he thought, awed. When the warrior finally turned back to face him, he nodded briefly, now eager to try it for himself. This time, he would not fail.
Whiskers quivering with anticipation, the flame-colored tom opened his mouth, and drank in the air. There was a faint scent of mouse, the one that had escaped earlier, and the vole that Whitefox had just killed, but there was something else. Flarepaw fell to the ground, crouched and tensed. Following the smell, he slunk forward, the grass tickling his stomach. There it is!
The animal looked slightly like a mouse, but with a large bushy tail. He'd seen it before on the fresh-kill pile, but always avoided them. He never bothered to learn the name either. Now's a good time to learn. He moved forward, but this time his eyes scanned the area. To his surprise, he spotted various small leaves and branches littering the floor, all waiting to catch him off guard. It was a wonder he hadn't stepped on one earlier on his last attempt. Flarepaw carefully avoided them as best he could, placing his paws gingerly.
Soon, he was only a few tail lengths away. Perfect leaping distance. Unsheathing his claws, he waited for a heartbeat, and sure enough, the creature stopped what it was doing, and looked up, beady black eyes alert. Flarepaw held himself back, fighting the desire to just spring and have it over with. After what seemed like forever, it turned away, back facing the hunter.
Flarepaw darted forward, paws clamping the prey down. He killed it swiftly with his claws. Bending down to pick it up, the apprentice bit down on the fluffy tail. Fuzz tickled his chin and tongue. Instantly, he dropped it, hissing and spitting to get all the fur off. "Yuck!" Euphoria at his first catch evaporated, to be replaced by shock and disgust. Flarepaw gagged as he finally coughed out as much as the fur as he could. "Eck...what is that thing?" he choked, stepping away.
Number of Cats: 1
