Post by Twigtail on Jul 3, 2008 11:17:19 GMT -5
Name: Twigtail
AKA: Twig, Twiggy, Kitteneater
Gender: Tom
Age: 46 moons
Clan: IvoryClan
Rank: Warrior
Build:
Twigtail’s built like a twig himself: bony from his skinny legs to the tip of his tapering tail. His face is narrow, pinched in appearance. His ears are very average-looking, the usual triangle, which just makes the pinched-ness of his face more pronounced. With a skinny, long neck, his face juts out from his body. While his legs look skinny, they are leanly muscled, as with his chest, but with awkward, large and gawky paws at the end. A long, bony tail completes his unhealthy appearance.
Fur:
The scruffy coat of the scruffy warrior is a mottled red, with patches of lighter fur standing out awkwardly on his already-noticeable face and shoulders, with flecks of this peculiarly light, almost-golden red fur splattering the rest of his body. Some darker, almost brownish stripes adorn his skinny tail. His belly fur, chest fur, muzzle, and all but his hind left paw are a dirty off-white color.
Eyes:
Coinciding with the rest of his pinched face, Twigtail’s eyes are narrow and squinty, and are a pale yellow-green in color.
Scars:
Twigtail has a tattered left ear, while his right ear is almost entirely unscathed. Other than that unusual feature, he has relatively few scars.
Fighting Styles:
Obviously, Twigtail is not particularly strong, and neither is he particularly fast. Actually, he’s a bit on the low end of both. So how does this cat survive? Trickery only is acceptable in his fighting regime. After all, in fighting, he has an excellent poker face: that is, he leers unpleasantly at his opponent until they have to shudder at this ugly cat making faces.
Personality:
One of the most interesting things about being macabre yet extremely happy about it, often thinks Twigtail, is the infinite reactions that other cats have. The tom is the type who enjoys a good, bloody scrap; he sees it as a huge game. He likes to talk about such things in detail, though mostly for the shock value. Though it gives the impression that he’s a sadist, it isn’t as though the ginger cat actually likes putting others in pain, though he does see the amusement in such things. He has a very black sense of humor.
Other than that, Twigtail likes to act eccentric, as it has that wonderful tendency to hold his interest. That is to say he will do odd little things out of feline curiosity, as he calls it. Particularly, he’s fond of acting as though he is mentally disturbed and then sitting up as though nothing at all is wrong. He prides himself on being smarter than everyone else in the Clan (though this is, almost definitely, only an opinion). As for the drama in the Clan, he constantly classifies himself as a neutral. If there is to be a fight, he’d rather watch and laugh like the madcat he likes to imagine he is.
Eccentricities and morbidity aside, Twigtail isn’t particularly loyal to anybody but himself. He fights how he wants, when he wants, and for what he wants. He basically sticks around in IvoryClan for the perks of the type of life. Sure, he’ll hunt for the Clan, do what’s necessary when they ask it of him, but if his interests suddenly shifted elsewhere, he could leave. Actually, he’s more interested in the drama of all these cats living together in such close proximity than anything else. He prefers to watch, observe, and occasionally dive in for his own amusement rather than fully participate in Clan life.
History:
Yes, Twigtail was born in the Clan, but even at the young age of a kit, he realized that it was more fun to watch other cats than to join them. He was the only surviving kit of a particularly weak litter, not that he felt any sorrow for his lost brethren. How could he miss what he never remembered having? His mother was an aloof cat; it was a wonder she ever managed to have a mate. She was not particularly fond of her Twigkit, and she was always very sarcastic around him. Her son quickly picked up on this, and was a particularly unpleasant little kitten.
He was an equally unpleasant apprentice. Twigpaw was quite sure, of course, that he knew everything better than his mentor. There was one occasion when he felt any humility at all. As a youth, he was found of tricking seagulls out of their eggs and offspring, but the birds eventually got the better of him, ripping one ear to shreds and coming short to shoving the little cat into the ocean. It was the only time the young tom admitted to himself that someone got the better of him. He was a little more insightful after that, but that phase quickly passed. Even so, he was trickier than ever when he was, probably reluctantly, appointed as a warrior, if not stronger or faster. He likes to boast that he was self-taught. Which is, with his personality, probably true enough to him.
To Pass: Rubish Cow
Roleplay Sample:
Twigtail went off into the forest to be by himself. Of course, in Clan territory, there was only so much space where one could be alone, and he knew this full well. The ginger tom stalked through the trees, puzzling over this. He’d had enough company for one day, he reasoned to himself, so he had very well earned his alone time for the day. Alone time would, if he had his way, last sometime from just before sunhigh to near moonrise. If he brought back fresh-kill, he thought as he leapt atop a tree stump, raising his head atop his long neck to look around the forest floor, nobody would ask questions. They had other things to worry about than a peculiar warrior who kept primarily to himself and did his work like a good little kitty, even if he had peculiar tendencies.
It’s not like I’ve hurt anybody, though that does sound intriguing, he thought blackly, as he flexed his skinny hind legs and launched himself to a spot of moss that carpeted the forest floor a tail-length from some tree roots. He landed silently, the moss muffling any noise he might have made otherwise. He drew himself quietly onto a thick knob of root and perched there on his hind legs, forelegs drawn up curiously like a squirrel, and he sniffed the still, muggy air, which carried no scents to him. Still, he might as well follow through with his plan to get rid of any cats in pursuit.
Slowly, he started swaying from side to side, positioning his forelegs to the side until the point where his muscles ached faintly from the unusual position, and started swaying back and forth, pale eyes closed to slits of green-gold. His hind legs, accustomed to his doing strange things while precariously perched upon them, took the weight of his shifting body with uncanny skill as he rolled his long neck backwards, swaying faster. I highly doubt any normal cat would like to ask me what I’m doing, he thought as he keened softly through clenched teeth, in this strange little dance he had designed.
After a minute or two spent in slight pain, he dropped to all fours on the branch. He looked around smugly. Any average cat would surely have been frightened away by his eerie display. I ought to do that in the middle of camp sometime, he thought wickedly, wondering if that would push the other cats over the edge at him. But he decided he didn’t care that much. He dropped off his branch, curled up in a dappled spot of filtered sunlight, and yawned broadly. He rolled onto his back and wondered what other things he could do to scare his fellow members of IvoryClan. Best do nothing for now, he thought. They’re stressed as is. They’ll probably drive me out. He rolled onto his paws and stalked quietly, with a tail that flicked quirkily, further into the forest.
Picture:
(This would be about apprentice age.)
AKA: Twig, Twiggy, Kitteneater
Gender: Tom
Age: 46 moons
Clan: IvoryClan
Rank: Warrior
Build:
Twigtail’s built like a twig himself: bony from his skinny legs to the tip of his tapering tail. His face is narrow, pinched in appearance. His ears are very average-looking, the usual triangle, which just makes the pinched-ness of his face more pronounced. With a skinny, long neck, his face juts out from his body. While his legs look skinny, they are leanly muscled, as with his chest, but with awkward, large and gawky paws at the end. A long, bony tail completes his unhealthy appearance.
Fur:
The scruffy coat of the scruffy warrior is a mottled red, with patches of lighter fur standing out awkwardly on his already-noticeable face and shoulders, with flecks of this peculiarly light, almost-golden red fur splattering the rest of his body. Some darker, almost brownish stripes adorn his skinny tail. His belly fur, chest fur, muzzle, and all but his hind left paw are a dirty off-white color.
Eyes:
Coinciding with the rest of his pinched face, Twigtail’s eyes are narrow and squinty, and are a pale yellow-green in color.
Scars:
Twigtail has a tattered left ear, while his right ear is almost entirely unscathed. Other than that unusual feature, he has relatively few scars.
Fighting Styles:
Obviously, Twigtail is not particularly strong, and neither is he particularly fast. Actually, he’s a bit on the low end of both. So how does this cat survive? Trickery only is acceptable in his fighting regime. After all, in fighting, he has an excellent poker face: that is, he leers unpleasantly at his opponent until they have to shudder at this ugly cat making faces.
Personality:
One of the most interesting things about being macabre yet extremely happy about it, often thinks Twigtail, is the infinite reactions that other cats have. The tom is the type who enjoys a good, bloody scrap; he sees it as a huge game. He likes to talk about such things in detail, though mostly for the shock value. Though it gives the impression that he’s a sadist, it isn’t as though the ginger cat actually likes putting others in pain, though he does see the amusement in such things. He has a very black sense of humor.
Other than that, Twigtail likes to act eccentric, as it has that wonderful tendency to hold his interest. That is to say he will do odd little things out of feline curiosity, as he calls it. Particularly, he’s fond of acting as though he is mentally disturbed and then sitting up as though nothing at all is wrong. He prides himself on being smarter than everyone else in the Clan (though this is, almost definitely, only an opinion). As for the drama in the Clan, he constantly classifies himself as a neutral. If there is to be a fight, he’d rather watch and laugh like the madcat he likes to imagine he is.
Eccentricities and morbidity aside, Twigtail isn’t particularly loyal to anybody but himself. He fights how he wants, when he wants, and for what he wants. He basically sticks around in IvoryClan for the perks of the type of life. Sure, he’ll hunt for the Clan, do what’s necessary when they ask it of him, but if his interests suddenly shifted elsewhere, he could leave. Actually, he’s more interested in the drama of all these cats living together in such close proximity than anything else. He prefers to watch, observe, and occasionally dive in for his own amusement rather than fully participate in Clan life.
History:
Yes, Twigtail was born in the Clan, but even at the young age of a kit, he realized that it was more fun to watch other cats than to join them. He was the only surviving kit of a particularly weak litter, not that he felt any sorrow for his lost brethren. How could he miss what he never remembered having? His mother was an aloof cat; it was a wonder she ever managed to have a mate. She was not particularly fond of her Twigkit, and she was always very sarcastic around him. Her son quickly picked up on this, and was a particularly unpleasant little kitten.
He was an equally unpleasant apprentice. Twigpaw was quite sure, of course, that he knew everything better than his mentor. There was one occasion when he felt any humility at all. As a youth, he was found of tricking seagulls out of their eggs and offspring, but the birds eventually got the better of him, ripping one ear to shreds and coming short to shoving the little cat into the ocean. It was the only time the young tom admitted to himself that someone got the better of him. He was a little more insightful after that, but that phase quickly passed. Even so, he was trickier than ever when he was, probably reluctantly, appointed as a warrior, if not stronger or faster. He likes to boast that he was self-taught. Which is, with his personality, probably true enough to him.
To Pass: Rubish Cow
Roleplay Sample:
Twigtail went off into the forest to be by himself. Of course, in Clan territory, there was only so much space where one could be alone, and he knew this full well. The ginger tom stalked through the trees, puzzling over this. He’d had enough company for one day, he reasoned to himself, so he had very well earned his alone time for the day. Alone time would, if he had his way, last sometime from just before sunhigh to near moonrise. If he brought back fresh-kill, he thought as he leapt atop a tree stump, raising his head atop his long neck to look around the forest floor, nobody would ask questions. They had other things to worry about than a peculiar warrior who kept primarily to himself and did his work like a good little kitty, even if he had peculiar tendencies.
It’s not like I’ve hurt anybody, though that does sound intriguing, he thought blackly, as he flexed his skinny hind legs and launched himself to a spot of moss that carpeted the forest floor a tail-length from some tree roots. He landed silently, the moss muffling any noise he might have made otherwise. He drew himself quietly onto a thick knob of root and perched there on his hind legs, forelegs drawn up curiously like a squirrel, and he sniffed the still, muggy air, which carried no scents to him. Still, he might as well follow through with his plan to get rid of any cats in pursuit.
Slowly, he started swaying from side to side, positioning his forelegs to the side until the point where his muscles ached faintly from the unusual position, and started swaying back and forth, pale eyes closed to slits of green-gold. His hind legs, accustomed to his doing strange things while precariously perched upon them, took the weight of his shifting body with uncanny skill as he rolled his long neck backwards, swaying faster. I highly doubt any normal cat would like to ask me what I’m doing, he thought as he keened softly through clenched teeth, in this strange little dance he had designed.
After a minute or two spent in slight pain, he dropped to all fours on the branch. He looked around smugly. Any average cat would surely have been frightened away by his eerie display. I ought to do that in the middle of camp sometime, he thought wickedly, wondering if that would push the other cats over the edge at him. But he decided he didn’t care that much. He dropped off his branch, curled up in a dappled spot of filtered sunlight, and yawned broadly. He rolled onto his back and wondered what other things he could do to scare his fellow members of IvoryClan. Best do nothing for now, he thought. They’re stressed as is. They’ll probably drive me out. He rolled onto his paws and stalked quietly, with a tail that flicked quirkily, further into the forest.
Picture:
(This would be about apprentice age.)
Let’s have a party; there’s a full moon in the sky.
It’s the hour of the wolf and I don’t wanna die.
I’m so happy dancing while the Grim Reaper
cuts, cuts, cuts,
But he can’t get me. (I’m as)
Clever as can be, and I’m very quick, but don’t forget
we’ve only got so many tricks.
No one lives forever!
“No One Lives Forever” - Oingo Boingo
It’s the hour of the wolf and I don’t wanna die.
I’m so happy dancing while the Grim Reaper
cuts, cuts, cuts,
But he can’t get me. (I’m as)
Clever as can be, and I’m very quick, but don’t forget
we’ve only got so many tricks.
No one lives forever!
“No One Lives Forever” - Oingo Boingo
