Post by Fawnpaw on Aug 10, 2010 18:27:50 GMT -7
[/font][/color]Fawnpaw of RiverClan
Basic Information
[/size][/font]``Name ;;
``Gender ;;
She-cat
``Age ;;
6 moons
``Clan ;;
RiverClan
``Position ;;
Apprentice
Cat Appearance
[/font]``Short Description ;;[/color]
A one or two sentence description of the cat.
``Appearance ;;[/color]
A paragraph or two describing your character. From the fur color to the size of the cat.
Personality
[/size][/font]``Likes ;;
What does your cat like to do? Favorite things?
``Dislikes ;;
What does your cat dislike to do? Least favorable items?
``Strengths ;;
What makes your the cat feel better than everyone else?
``Weaknesses ;;
What scares your cat? Frightens them to let someone else take over?
History
[/size][/font]``History ;;
Two paragraphs minimum if the cat is a kit, three for everything else. It's not unfair. Nothing important truly happens during kithood.
Behind The Character
``Nickname ;;
Ginger
``Where did you find us? ;;
Advertisement
``Contact ;;
PM :)
``Activity ;;
I'm pretty active.
``Codeword ;;
may starclan guide you
``Role-Play Sample ;;
d a w n s o n g
Hazel eyes glowed in the night, guided by the shining silver of moonlight, illuminating the barn in darkness. Stars twinkled and seemed to wink at the she-cat in Barley's Farm. The yellow haystacks were a very comfortable place to sleep, she may admit, but the irresistible lure of adventure tugged at her pelt like a wave lapping the shore.
Time cannot heal a wound, it only hides it, covers it up, until someone clever can reopen it.
The startled mews of a kitten finally broke the thin web that kept Dawnsong from getting up. As tired as she was, the loner did not want to miss this. Finally decided, she lithely leapt down from the hayloft onto a soft bed of dried grass. Not wanting to wake any other cats, she tip-toed her way outside and followed the scent trail of the white tom, obviously from WindClan.
As she approached a small ditch, she spotted the WindClanner speaking with a small kit, maybe 3 or 4 moons old. It's crimson eyes sparkled in the moonlight and the blood on it's dark pelt shone. It's mews were frantic, reminding her of her constant burden, a curse, if you will. The sky grew dark and a flash of lightning struck the moorland, errupting the grass in fire.
Soon enough, the vision was over, leaving Dawnsong withering in pain, curled in fetal position, the voices echoing in her head.
Dawnsong, why didn't you save us?
Dawnsong, why didn't you save us?
Dawnsong, why didn't you save us?
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