Toadstripe - River [COMPLETE]

[AVARICE]

[Toadstripe!!]
[any of various tailless amphibians that are close relatives of the frogs in the order Anura!!]

[TOMCAT!!]
[RIVERCLAN!!]
[40 MOONS!!]
[WARRIOR!!]

____________[LOOKS]

Frogstripe is a dark gray tabby with thick black stripes. Thick, black bands run down his ribcage and tail. These are highlighted by smaller streaks around the neck and spine, and a very dark ‘v’ marking on his chest. His chest fur around the ‘v’ gradually fades from the stormy gray to a creamy silver as it reaches the center and the area between his forelegs. Dark bars rise up from his brow, curving around the tabby ‘m’ on his forehead, which is very pronounced by his stark yellow eyes. A small white patch saddles his lower back, like fresh snow on a bleak vista of soot. That isn’t the only bit of white, though; his left forepaw is also lightly dipped with white at the very end of the toes.
Frogstripe’s head is broad, the fur course with faded scars and the creases of a frown, which always seem to occupy his face. In fact, he never smiles, or laughs. He has a thick, furry neck, where the pelt softens slightly and loses its stiffness. His shoulders poke up under his hide like sticks under a tarp, but this is normal. The raised shoulders are often accompanied by a lowered head and flattened ears and a flickering gaze. His gait resembles that of a cautious tiger; head down, back slightly concave, wrinkled with a scowl.
His body in general is also very large like a tiger’s, bulked with muscle and power, but not so much speed. He can’t run, period. He trips and fall and hurts himself, so his best way to fight is to corner or pin an opponent and take it from there. When hunting, if he doesn’t have the element of surprise then he doesn’t have the mouse. He just can’t maneuver. He accepts this as the price to pay for being so burly, and doesn’t have much of a problem with it.
He has small paws, as contradicting as that may seem. His paws are softly curved, with dark pink pads and thick tufts of silver fur between the toes. Very delicate, almost like a she-cat’s. As a kit, in fact, he was teased for such feminine paws. A dog on she-cat feet, they leered. Only until he’d become bold enough to defend himself in a battle had they stopped expressing such foolery in his midst. Once they felt his claws, they soon stopped.

____________[PERSONA]

This is a very instinctual creature. Often in a battle he discards reason and simply acts on instinct. The opponent looks up, go for the throat. The opponent doesn’t expect it, attack. The opponent is already on the ground; kill. He doesn’t see any honor in playing it fair. When you play fairly, skill levels are thrown away and each cat becomes the same… how is that fair to the ones who worked harder to improve? Frogstripe does not believe in cheap shots or making your presence known before attacking or any of that… if you aren’t paying attention then you deserve what you get. End of question.
Frogstripe isn’t very sympathetic towards others, and although he is not exactly antisocial, he is something of a loner. He tends to sit by himself or someone he thinks he can confide in, rather then going out of his way to meet new cats or, StarClan forbid, make friends. Though he can’t deny, friends are useful and enjoyable. He just doesn’t want to make the effort to make any. Despite the dislike of putting out social effort, Frogstripe is actually quite a dutiful cat. He accepts most orders without question unless is severely challenges his own beliefs, making him easy to manipulate. And yet, at times when his own opinions feel threatened – as he easily takes offense – he hardens his obligation to obey and becomes extremely stubborn. But this isn’t often, as he isn’t such an intellectual fellow as to try and dissect every intention or order. In a word, subtlety is a key to his obedience. Going against his own ideals in an obvious or head-on way will trigger his willfulness and then you’ve lost.
Frogstripe is also rather quiet. He isn’t often heard conversing or sweet-talking or anything of that sort. No one knows much about his love-life, as it doesn’t exactly exist. Speeches are unheard of, and lectures are kept short and sweet. He is a very blunt cat and not one for fancy wordplay or sarcasm. If he doesn’t like you, he won’t go on about how though he’s tried to be friends and sure he likes you well enough it’s just that it won’t work and in fact to tell the truth he doesn’t like you all that well and all that blah blah malarkey. The only words that pass his mind and muzzle when he comes to dislike someone are “I don’t like you.” Elongated speeches shall never bypass his lips, mark my words. If you ever do hear him speak though, his voice is very low and deep, and he sort of growls on his ‘r’s. A smooth voice, yes, somewhat attractive, but not sexy and certainly not cute in any way.


____________[HISTORY]

In a nutshell, Toadstripe was born in an average litter in early new-leaf, in a time of relative peace. His siblings all live except for his one brother, Stormpaw, who died from an infected injury on his belly. Cinderclaw, and Rainflower, however, his remaining sisters, live well.
As a kit, Toadkit was already a monster. He was the largest of his litter and was surprisingly sweet. He was boyish and compassionate, though still with little to say. He often wouldn’t stand up for himself when the kits of his own age teased him for his tiny paws. He would simply take the abuse and put up with it, until he got to a certain age in apprenticehood, when testosterone began to flow through his veins. And flow it did. He became bolder, and colder, putting the bullies flat on their backs until they learned he would no longer be mistreated. However, it wasn’t only because of the natural chemicals in his blood that made him more daring. Well, it was natural, but definitely not a chemical. More like a she-cat.
An audacious apprentice slightly younger than he, to be more exact. She wasn’t beautiful, with a dingy golden-brown tabby pelt and olive green eyes, but she had personality. And that was what drew Toadpaw to her. She was risky and cunning, hardly feminine and definitely not graceful. What drew him to her though was not only that, but the little things. The arch of her back, the flowing curves of her lithe body, and her humorously large paws. And those narrow green eyes, which always bore a wild flame. Her name was Sparrowpaw. Sparrowpaw hardly cast him a glance though, and if she was attracted to Toadpaw, she didn’t show it. Toadpaw didn’t quite care though. The claws of love had him pinned, and he wasn’t making any effort to get up.
Toadpaw’s apprenticehood was extraordinarily uneventful. He wasn’t very fond of his mentor, Blackear, who was ridiculously strict and precise despite being one of the most skilled warriors. He wouldn’t allow Toadpaw to eat if he hadn’t paid enough attention or done well in training that day. Blackear was altogether a stern cat, not the most liked by the apprentices, but a seasoned warrior nonetheless, so respect was absolutely necessary. Toadpaw loathed this tom, not so much for his severe methods, but because he had an eye on his lady. It was well known throughout the Clan that Sparrowpaw had the strange affection of Blackear, and especially well-known to Toadpaw. He seethed with rage every time they shared tongues idly, ate together, laughed together. Jealousy brewed in Toadpaw’s brain like angry wasps.
In fact, it wasn’t long after Toadpaw and Sparrowpaw’s warrior ceremony that the newly named Sparrowclaw and Blackear become official mates. Toadstripe was utterly horrified; but recovered quickly. Young love was hardly every quite that serious, and Toadstripe’s case was no different. He simply hardened himself a shell during his sentry that night, locked his heart inside and threw away the key. He had no desire for Sparrowclaw any longer, nor any other bland she-cat. They were all the same; break your heart soon as better goods were shipped in. When the two had a whopping litter of six kits, he barely spared them an icy glance.
He was forced to look at them, however, when it came time for him to be a mentor… and to one their kits, no less. All the same, he taught her. Begrudgingly, yes, but nevertheless. She graduated like all the others of her time, even with her startlingly cold mentor. Often he thought the leader purposefully assigned him the first of the couple’s litter, a cute she-cat who looked just like her heart-stabbing mommy named Sandkit, but he realized the leader can’t have known about his secret crush. He hadn’t told anybody, besides his bother, but that secret had died with him that sweltering green-leaf morning as his belly wound was infected and rotted, ultimately killing him.


____________[IC]

psh dis aint my first bio hun
may i slip past this?

____________[FAMILY]

Mossflower - mother
Darkfang - father
Stormpaw - brother
Cinderclaw - sister
Rainflower - sister

____________[PASSWORD]

aurora

[Eagleh]

[nnnngh can i accept bios? D:]

Accepted!

[/blockquote][/font]