Post by dye on Jun 9, 2012 19:48:06 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=width,100][atrb=style,padding:10px;border-right:1px solid #ffffff;] [style=border:1px solid #ffffff;background-color:#54446E;width:100px;height:100px;padding:8px;]  [/style][style=border-right:10px solid #FFfFFF;background-color:#54446E;padding:4px 10px 3px 0px;font-family:courier new;color:#C09BFC;text-align:right;font-size:10px;letter-spacing:1px;margin-bottom:3px;]WINDCLAN[/style][style=border-right:10px solid #ffffff;background-color:#54446E;padding:4px 10px 3px 0px;font-family:courier new;color:#C09BFC;text-align:right;font-size:10px;letter-spacing:1px;margin-bottom:3px;]SHE-CAT[/style][style=border-right:10px solid #ffffff;background-color:#54446E;padding:4px 10px 3px 0px;font-family:courier new;color:#C09BFC;text-align:right;font-size:10px;letter-spacing:1px;margin-bottom:3px;]28 MOONS[/style][style=border-right:10px solid #ffffff;background-color:#54446E;padding:4px 10px 3px 0px;font-family:courier new;color:#C09BFC;text-align:right;font-size:10px;letter-spacing:1px;margin-bottom:3px;]WARRIOR[/style] [style=border-right:10px solid #FFfFFF;background-color:#54446E;padding:4px 10px 3px 0px;font-family:courier new;color:#C09BFC;text-align:right;font-size:10px;letter-spacing:1px;margin-bottom:3px;]PICTURE[/style] | [atrb=width,400][atrb=style,padding:10px;][style=font-family: courier new; font-size: 24px;letter-spacing:-2px; text-align:center;border-bottom:1px solid #ffffff;line-height:85%;color:#C09BFC;]BLUETHORN[/style][style=font-family:Arial Narrow;font-size:10px;text-align:center;margin-top:0px;letter-spacing:0px;color:#FFFFFF;]A FOREST DIVIDED[/style] [style=margin:-20px 30px 10px 30px;text-align:justify;font-family:tahoma;font-size:10px;text-transform:lowercase;color:#8e8e8e;line-height:13px;]Short Appearance a pretty gray she-cat with bright green eyes Appearance She considers herself simple and basic; the colors of her fur are nothing special and there is no harm in that in Bluethorn's opinion. Her coat color may be gray, but it is certainly appealing. The color fades and darkens in the best of places: darkening to form subtle hints of stripes between her ears, fading about her muzzle and underbelly. Aside from the color, her fur has other unoriginal traits to it as well. It is soft and groomed, like many other she-cats', and it not long nor is it feathery. Her fur is short yet extremely thick, for Bluethorn boasts a heavy undercoat that sheds mountainous heaps of fur during the warmer seasons. Bluethorn's build is similar to most WindClan cats. She has long legs that are built for running and catching quick prey such as rabbit. She is very lean and agile, with incredibly muscular legs which are also her weapons of choice during battles and border scuffles. Personality Bluethorn's given name from her mother derives from the color of her coat. However, "thorn" was not chosen by her leader to represent the sharpness of her claws or the pointiness of her ears. Not only is she quick to snap, she is also sharp as a tack. Her wittiness is quite comical at times, her tone often sarcastic as if she enjoys belittling others at times. However, sometimes she can be quite rude. She realizes this but does not feel the need to censor herself unless speaking to a senior warrior, elder, or any cat of higher rank than she. Depending on her mood, she is not always sensitive. The only time that she does snap is when she notices an apprentice or young warrior being disrespectful to her or any other superior that she would take care to act politely around. Other than that, her patience is extremely pliable and Bluethorn herself is amazingly lenient. For instance, when she scolds kits, there is an air of humor to her reprimanding. Some may argue that she does not take thing seriously enough. Bluethorn insists that she is very serious, she simply doesn't understand why any cat should lose fur over the trivial things. Her lightheartedness does not make her happy go lucky, but it does cause the younger crowd to flock toward her eagerly. Seeing as she is everything but bitter, kits enjoy rough housing with her and apprentices enjoy learning from her because she doesn't mind repeating her instructions. She seems to make difficult jobs appear simple with her zest and friendliness, and although she is very sarcastic and can sometimes offend those who don't have much of a sense of humor, her presence in the Clan is appreciated by most. History Bluethorn's mother was an older she-cat who had already had a couple of litters before having Bluethorn. However, this final litter had, for some reason, been struck by disaster. The kits arrived in the cold of leaf-bare and it was no easy arrival. Bluethorn (or Bluekit) had been the oldest and first born, and due to her health she promised her mother and the medicine cat a quick and easy kitting process. However, something went wrong, and it was soon realized that this promise could never have been so false. The queen's age seemed to get the best of her, and before the medicine cat knew it, she was too unstable to save from death. She had given birth to two live kits and one stillborn, however the youngest living died within hours of its birth. Bluethorn's mother passed shortly after due to blood loss and it was nothing short of tragedy. The single surviving kit was handed over to a queen who's kits were already five moons old, but this "foster mother" remained in the nursery in order to keep Bluethorn healthy through her infancy. Because she had never met her mother, Bluethorn is almost indifferent to her death. She knows that her mother now hunts with StarClan and patiently awaits the day that she gets to meet the kin that she has never known. Roleplay Sample A subtle reminder of the season existed in the crisp air and the breeze was nippy enough to be an annoyance. The various odors of human beings hung in the atmosphere had the potential to range from tantalizing to repellent. For instance, the lovely aroma of barbecue; it was a magical thing when a human fired up that perfect mechanism that browned particular edibles that were good enough as it was without having to be cooked. Sadly, this treat would not be received until the weather became more livable. For these few brutal months, the humans cooked within the comfort of their own home. The grills lingered, lonely and abandoned, in the backyards or decks of the bipeds until the weather was suitable for its usage. Lucas envied their style of living; it was so pliable, changing in compliance to something as trivial as the presence of clouds in the sky. Lucas's meals were consistent. He ate three times a day in rain, snow, sleet, or shine. He was dependent on the garbage of restaurants and fast food joints (residential buildings were simply too risky, humans noticed if their barrels were knocked over in front of their homes rather than their businesses). Life wasn't fair, Lucas was aware completely. If he could, he would visit the supermarket daily to purchase ingredients to prepare a delectable dish for dinner time. This evening, the smell of barbecue was absent, yet a similar one tainted his nostrils. It was as if somebody has roasted the hot dogs, singing them black on all sides and leaving them on the grill until they were completely inedible. No, it was worse. There was no hint of meat or any sort of food at all, really, which made the entire experience rather unpleasant. So unpleasant, in fact, that he trudged right into the midst of the mess. It wasn't often that he took this route home from his daily adventures, but it also wasn't often that he participated in any adventures at all; either way, Lucas would not return here after seeing the establishment before him up in flames. Indifferent to the mess, he cared little about those inside of the structure or those trying their hardest to save what was left of the building that would currently be considered a very suitable barbecue itself--for a giant or similarly enormous figure. With a careless flick of his ears, he turned his shoulder to the flames and quickly proceeded on the homestretch, wanting to steer clear of the mess. He darted around the building, only to notice something he felt didn't belong back there. She seemed to utter a cry for help, but Lucas was not in any particular mood to play the hero role. He simply wasn't one, he did not save damsels no matter how much distress they found themselves in. Especially if they decided to station themselves beneath a burning building with windows that would shatter at any moment. Had she common sense? Instinct should have told her long ago to get the hell out of there, not wait around for something shitty to happen. "Sweetheart, exactly what are you doing over there?" he called, head tilted to the left as he watched as she cringed and prepared herself for death. Maybe a nutcase, he pondered for a split second, She'd probably have it out for me if I ruined her plans to kill herself. After pondering excuses to simply leave her there, his conscience overtook his indifference and he galloped to her side, taking the scruff of her neck in his teeth and dragging her less than three feet from the scene of what would have been an accident and then proceeding to release her. "Moron. You could've solved that problem with your own four paws." he tsk'ed, shaking his head with disappointment as he turned on his heels and continued his stride and snorted, uttering a quiet, "Women."[/style][style=font-family:Arial Narrow;font-size:10px;text-align:center;margin-top:0px;letter-spacing:0px;color:#FFFFFF;]CODED BY RAIN OF ON THE EDGE![/style] |
