Post by + + Cace on Mar 7, 2009 16:36:56 GMT -5
Name: Rouge [as in the makeup/color, It isn't a misspelling of 'Rogue']
Age: Only about 30 moons.
Gender: Tom
Clan, Tribe, or Rogue: Bloodclan
Rank: Leader
Picture:
Apperance: One could say that Rouge fits the part of his rank. His claws, that used to be a white coloring, are tinted with a red coloring, like blood. He usually smells of death, and he enjoys that scent. Rouge has a band of dog claws that he pushed into an old collar, after his ancestor, Scourge once did, but he prefers not to wear it unless meeting with cats that deserve his rare respect. Rouge has a thick black pelt with muscles that brew below his pelt. He has shorter hair, though, that doesn't get stuck on anything. He has an abnormally large tail that can curl around his whole body, really. He has a dark black pelt, like the darkest of nights, but in the sunshine you can see flecks of red seeming to be against it. Rouge has bright yellow eyes that don't have a hint of compassion inside them.
Rouge's building doesn't show that much power. He has an almost light look with his short fur, but don't underestimate him. Rouge has deadly muscles that brew against his thick pelt. Rouge walks with his over-confident attitude and the way he carries himself shows he doesn't give a d**n on what you think of him. Rouge likes to stick his tail straight up and whack it against those he doesn't like.
Personality:
Rouge is a bloodthirsty, cruel cat. He has been known to eat a small bit of his killed cats, to let their blood and death in his viens. He doesn't have an ounce of compassion in his blood, not even some 'deep inside goodness' crud. He is just a cruel cat. Rouge likes when to make the femmes of his clan bear his kits to further his generations. He is surprisngly protective over the rest of the Bloodclan, the only bit of kindness he shows is towards the kits, his kits only. Rouge is a bit of a clever thinker, he can think his way out of situations, but whats the fun in that? Rouge finds it amusing to fight and kill, the taste of blood on his claws excites him in an odd way. He enjoys the flavor of blood, so he prefers to suck his prey dry before he eats it. Rouge isn't a cat to cross paths with, because if you do, you won't live through it.
Rouge's bloodthirty tendancy make him a pretty crappy friend, because he might just turn around and kill you. Some say that Rouge isn't all cat, and he has some vampire bat-like tendancies against him, but he just shrugs it off. Rouge knows he's the best, and doesn't even second guess that he isn't. Rouge will always believe that he is the best, and he doesn't really like if some put him down, so if they do. Well, they don't usually live until the next morning. Rouge has taken after his distant relative, Scourge, in the way that ice runs through his viens. With no compassion, he doesn't mind slaughtering groups of cats if they don't do as he pleases.
History:
Born to two clanborn cats, the lovely Lilydust and handsome Sandwhisker, he was the only cat of the litter in the small Shadowclan clan. Some say that his three dead siblings were sucked dry of their blood and he came out looking rather content. He was named Nightkit, mildly unintersting, and he didn't like it. Nightkit was just so plain, and even as a kit, he knew he was destined for much, much more than hunting for old cats and not getting fed even if he caught the most for them. Even as a kit, little Nightkit thought of the elders as worthless and the leader of a weak, stupid heart. There were two other kits in the nursery, one a small white she-cat named Blizzardkit, and the other a fattened orange tom with pale orange stripes by the name of Mosskit after his bright green eyes. Nightkit barely tolerated those two, Blizzardkit just sat there, meowling for food and acting like a baby, and Mosskit just wanted to fight Nightkit, even though he always lost. It was just so dull. The ice that grew in Nightkit's viens just never went away.
He was apprentanced early, only five moons, because he begged the leader for that. He just couldn't stand the idea of being stuck in the nursery with the two dull kits. So he became Nightpaw, the orderly, slightly over-confident apprentace.That ended when he was about eight moons, though, and killed his own mentor. He killed the she-cat who was his mentor, Icenose, and was grinning as he returned. He was exiled, of course, the ice that settled into his viens spreading. At first, he wasn't quite sure where to go, other than the fact he knew that he wasn't meant for the measly Shadowclan, he was meant for so much more.
So he changed his name to Rouge, after the french word for the color of blood, red, and a word that he heard in his dreams. When he was about thirteen moons old, Scourge visited him in a dream, he told Rouge that he was chosen to bring back the legendary Bloodclan. So after so many moons, Rouge re-built Bloodclan, following the rules he was taught by the legendary dreams he recieved. Rouge believes his clan should rule, and this time they won't fail.
RP Sample:
Not my best, but here we go.
A small, curious cat moved forward. Her flame-colored pelt striking against the dirt of the undergrowth and catching the sunlight every few moments. Her pale yellow eyes scanned forward and her fur was flat. She had no choice, but to be here. If the little she-cat had the choice, she would be back home with her clan, but she was taken away. Some say that the lithe, three-legged she-cat was blessed with the gift of fighting from Starclan because they took away her leg, but if you asked her, she just had some bad luck. She moved forward in the undergrowth. Her orders? Go out, and bring back prey, or else. After living with the cruel kittypets, the small she-cat learned that it was always best to do what they say. Since they always find you, always hurt you, and always drag you back. Her longer fur brushed against the light leaves that littered the floor. Her face twisted as she sniffed, the pale scent of another cat reaching her nose. Instinctivly, she recoiled back into a smaller, dark alcove, but when the scent that reached her was not of Wealthclan, she moved forward, curious.
Dewpaw, oh, sorry,Dew moved forward. They had even taken her name away when the kidnapped her. Changed her to some 'Dew', no end, even! She called herself Dewpaw, and to anyone else, she was Dewpaw, and if she ever got home, she might get her warrior name. She moved so she could see another she-cat. The she-cat was younger, with large claws and a thicker pelt, but she seemed about Dewpaw's size. Dewpaw was always small for her age. The famillier scent of Shadowclan clung loosly to the new she-cats fur, not the true Shadowclan scent, but like she was on the land before. Dewpaw moved forward, dipping her head and moving gracefully for the fact she only had three legs. "Hello." She murmered, voice low. "My name is Dewpaw.". Screw the 'Dew' name, it was too simple for her tastes.
Age: Only about 30 moons.
Gender: Tom
Clan, Tribe, or Rogue: Bloodclan
Rank: Leader
Picture:
Apperance: One could say that Rouge fits the part of his rank. His claws, that used to be a white coloring, are tinted with a red coloring, like blood. He usually smells of death, and he enjoys that scent. Rouge has a band of dog claws that he pushed into an old collar, after his ancestor, Scourge once did, but he prefers not to wear it unless meeting with cats that deserve his rare respect. Rouge has a thick black pelt with muscles that brew below his pelt. He has shorter hair, though, that doesn't get stuck on anything. He has an abnormally large tail that can curl around his whole body, really. He has a dark black pelt, like the darkest of nights, but in the sunshine you can see flecks of red seeming to be against it. Rouge has bright yellow eyes that don't have a hint of compassion inside them.
Rouge's building doesn't show that much power. He has an almost light look with his short fur, but don't underestimate him. Rouge has deadly muscles that brew against his thick pelt. Rouge walks with his over-confident attitude and the way he carries himself shows he doesn't give a d**n on what you think of him. Rouge likes to stick his tail straight up and whack it against those he doesn't like.
Personality:
Rouge is a bloodthirsty, cruel cat. He has been known to eat a small bit of his killed cats, to let their blood and death in his viens. He doesn't have an ounce of compassion in his blood, not even some 'deep inside goodness' crud. He is just a cruel cat. Rouge likes when to make the femmes of his clan bear his kits to further his generations. He is surprisngly protective over the rest of the Bloodclan, the only bit of kindness he shows is towards the kits, his kits only. Rouge is a bit of a clever thinker, he can think his way out of situations, but whats the fun in that? Rouge finds it amusing to fight and kill, the taste of blood on his claws excites him in an odd way. He enjoys the flavor of blood, so he prefers to suck his prey dry before he eats it. Rouge isn't a cat to cross paths with, because if you do, you won't live through it.
Rouge's bloodthirty tendancy make him a pretty crappy friend, because he might just turn around and kill you. Some say that Rouge isn't all cat, and he has some vampire bat-like tendancies against him, but he just shrugs it off. Rouge knows he's the best, and doesn't even second guess that he isn't. Rouge will always believe that he is the best, and he doesn't really like if some put him down, so if they do. Well, they don't usually live until the next morning. Rouge has taken after his distant relative, Scourge, in the way that ice runs through his viens. With no compassion, he doesn't mind slaughtering groups of cats if they don't do as he pleases.
History:
Born to two clanborn cats, the lovely Lilydust and handsome Sandwhisker, he was the only cat of the litter in the small Shadowclan clan. Some say that his three dead siblings were sucked dry of their blood and he came out looking rather content. He was named Nightkit, mildly unintersting, and he didn't like it. Nightkit was just so plain, and even as a kit, he knew he was destined for much, much more than hunting for old cats and not getting fed even if he caught the most for them. Even as a kit, little Nightkit thought of the elders as worthless and the leader of a weak, stupid heart. There were two other kits in the nursery, one a small white she-cat named Blizzardkit, and the other a fattened orange tom with pale orange stripes by the name of Mosskit after his bright green eyes. Nightkit barely tolerated those two, Blizzardkit just sat there, meowling for food and acting like a baby, and Mosskit just wanted to fight Nightkit, even though he always lost. It was just so dull. The ice that grew in Nightkit's viens just never went away.
He was apprentanced early, only five moons, because he begged the leader for that. He just couldn't stand the idea of being stuck in the nursery with the two dull kits. So he became Nightpaw, the orderly, slightly over-confident apprentace.That ended when he was about eight moons, though, and killed his own mentor. He killed the she-cat who was his mentor, Icenose, and was grinning as he returned. He was exiled, of course, the ice that settled into his viens spreading. At first, he wasn't quite sure where to go, other than the fact he knew that he wasn't meant for the measly Shadowclan, he was meant for so much more.
So he changed his name to Rouge, after the french word for the color of blood, red, and a word that he heard in his dreams. When he was about thirteen moons old, Scourge visited him in a dream, he told Rouge that he was chosen to bring back the legendary Bloodclan. So after so many moons, Rouge re-built Bloodclan, following the rules he was taught by the legendary dreams he recieved. Rouge believes his clan should rule, and this time they won't fail.
RP Sample:
Not my best, but here we go.
A small, curious cat moved forward. Her flame-colored pelt striking against the dirt of the undergrowth and catching the sunlight every few moments. Her pale yellow eyes scanned forward and her fur was flat. She had no choice, but to be here. If the little she-cat had the choice, she would be back home with her clan, but she was taken away. Some say that the lithe, three-legged she-cat was blessed with the gift of fighting from Starclan because they took away her leg, but if you asked her, she just had some bad luck. She moved forward in the undergrowth. Her orders? Go out, and bring back prey, or else. After living with the cruel kittypets, the small she-cat learned that it was always best to do what they say. Since they always find you, always hurt you, and always drag you back. Her longer fur brushed against the light leaves that littered the floor. Her face twisted as she sniffed, the pale scent of another cat reaching her nose. Instinctivly, she recoiled back into a smaller, dark alcove, but when the scent that reached her was not of Wealthclan, she moved forward, curious.
Dewpaw, oh, sorry,Dew moved forward. They had even taken her name away when the kidnapped her. Changed her to some 'Dew', no end, even! She called herself Dewpaw, and to anyone else, she was Dewpaw, and if she ever got home, she might get her warrior name. She moved so she could see another she-cat. The she-cat was younger, with large claws and a thicker pelt, but she seemed about Dewpaw's size. Dewpaw was always small for her age. The famillier scent of Shadowclan clung loosly to the new she-cats fur, not the true Shadowclan scent, but like she was on the land before. Dewpaw moved forward, dipping her head and moving gracefully for the fact she only had three legs. "Hello." She murmered, voice low. "My name is Dewpaw.". Screw the 'Dew' name, it was too simple for her tastes.
