Post by Eagleh on Feb 6, 2009 21:21:45 GMT -5
i couldn't care less.
... it's not bothering me.[/right][/color]
[and yet your pathetic life goes on.]
[/color]price you gotta pay when you break the panorama
[/size]If you need to talk to me, call me Flamestripe.
My parents made me a tom
I'm a new warrior at 16 moons of age.
I belong to the one and only ThunderClan.
Me, well, I'm deputy.xxx
[Smart. Sleek. Sexy.]
[/color][/size][/color]now shake the hands of fate
a p p e a r e n c e
[/i][/u][/center]Flamestripe's head is rather handsome. Still young, his cheekbones aren't yet prominent in his face. His muzzle sticks out elegantly and tapers into a fine circle at the end. His ears are positioned at the perfect height to give him both a boyish look of innocence, and an elegant look of sophistication. They are long and yet still bluntly tipped. The insides are pink with only a slight amount of fuzz. His muzzle is furred with a slight amout of kit fuzz still left from his apprentice days. His nose is a button pink, and the same goes for the tinge of the fur around it. His eyes are a deep amber, fringing on brown. They're cute against his face; but at the same time they portray an air of mystery and arrogance. The fur on his head is a deep orange, with lighter orange by the tip of his muzzle. Ruddy tabby markings run up his forehead, dipping behind his ears and down is neck. Flamestripe's head is rather small, but it fits elegantly with his body.
His body, which is long and lithe and elegant. In other words, it's perfect. It has the right amount of fat in the right places, with his muscles perfectly fashioned. Flamestripe has spent a lot of time working on getting just the right appearence. His neck is sleek and he grooms it until it shines. His forelegs are strong, but his back legs are even stronger. His body is thin, but the muscle in it is evident. When the sun catches his pelt, Flamestripe looks like he's on fire. This is because his fur is a deep orange (with the exception of his underbelly, which is a light ginger) crossed with dark orange stripes. His paws are also a light ginger, and that colour trails up the back of his legs. His stripes seem to merge in the middle, creating a long orange block down his back. His tail is long, though not as long as Lichenfur's. It's a deep orange with a ruddy tip and dark orange stripes.
xxx
[/color]p e r s o n a l i t y
[/b][/u]There are two words to describe Flamestripe. The first word, overused as it is, would be 'perfect'. The second, however, would be 'fake'. This isn't to say that Flamestripe is perfectly fake. No, he's faking perfect. Now, these two words together are reminiscent of another word. This other word happens to be 'sociopath'. Know what it means? It's a
This isn't to say he goes everywhere murdering left and right. No, he's much more subtle than that. He jokes, he's friendly, he flirts- all while biding his time. He's waiting for the right moment to strike. Whatever Flamestripe wants, Flamestripe gets. That's how his life goes. But he won't reveal his true nature. He watches the cats around him, copying their emotions. He wants ThunderClan to think that he's one of them. He wants them to believe he's normal. But he isn't, and he'll hurt anyone to get what he wants. Right now, he wants power. Flamestripe is ambitious, wanting the position of leader for himself. He also wants an heir, someone to carry on for him. He doesn't care if he breaks any hearts on his way. He doesn't understand that other cats have feelings. He doesn't understand that they can be hurt. He thinks it's just him all alone in the world. He's the only one with goals and dreams. But he isn't, and Flamestripe is waiting for the right moment to show everything that it's all about him.
xxx
h i s t o r y
flamekit.xx
Flamekit was the most popular kit in the nursery when he was born. The son of Orangestreak and Poppytail, he had one sibling. Firekit was weak and sickly, and was obviously not going to survive the Leafbare. So Flamekit did everyone a favour and murdered his brother. Firekit was mourned and forgotten. Flamekit made sure no one would remember the little orange tom. He made friends with everyone, and pushed the kits that couldn't do anything competantly out of his gang. He terrorized the nursery and attacked all the warriors. But he was just a kit, and all of the cats in the Clan loved him just the same.
It was around this period in time that Flamekit began to realize he was different. Everyone else felt something. Flamekit didn't. He knew he was different than the others, so he faked emotions. He faked pain when Firekit died. He faked happiness when others were apprenticed. He faked sorrow when one of the elders died of old age. He faked everything, and he did it extremely well. Everyone thought he was honest, and Flamekit realized he liked it that way. He was in control. He had a secret that no one else knew. He was powerful.
flamepaw.xx
Flamepaw kept up his skillful deception through the time when he was an apprentice. He appeared friendly to the other apprentices, always offering a paw to help them out. And he could help them out very well. Flamepaw was one of the best apprentices of his time. His cold, calculating mind could analyze everything and understand it. As a result, the sociopathic tom was unbeatable. His mentor loved him. The other apprentices loved him. Midnightstar loved him. Everyone admired him. Some of them felt sympathy for him, the ginger tom fighting his way through the pain of Firekit's death. Though Flamepaw (obviously) knew that they were wrong, he didn't bother to contradict them. He was pulling off the first steps to his master plan. To take over ThunderClan.
flamestripe.xx
Since Flamestripe has only been a warrior for a few moons, there isn't much to put here. Ever since he got his name, he's become even more popular. All the kits that admired him when he was an apprentice have now become apprentices. Flamestripe is able to show them neat moves, and they love him for it. The ginger tom interacts with everyone in the Clan, helping them out and gaining their respect. He knows he will need the support of the Clan when Midnightstar 'accidently' dies. He plots every night before slipping into his dreamless sleep. Flamestripe needs to be leader. It's what drives him forward.
xxx
[Burn the evidence of my existance.]
[/color][/size][/color]and i'm sorry for the nights i can't remember.
r o l e p l a y . s a m p l e
[/i][/u][/center]The wind breeze by slowly, swaying the tips of the cottontail reeds. The springy trees by the riverside shook and groaned, mumbling to themselves as the breeze moved them in a strangely intimate dance. It was a cold wind, chilling all the animals nearby and sending them scurrying for cover. It chilled the cats in their moss nests, making them burrow even deeper into the soft bedding. Toms and she-cats pressed against each other to escape the wind, the breeze a basis for new-found love. The wind flew down the sandy banks of the river, hitting the water and rapid speed. The water cooled, sending shivers down the spine of any being that went near it. The breeze made ripples across the surface of the river, creating intricate designs that were alltogether too complicated in their simplicity. The temperature cooled as Leaf-bare approached, bringing with it the threat of whitecough and the beautiful but deadly frost.
Sitting on the bank of the river was a tom. His head was finely shaped, and his handsome muzzle protruded elegantly from his round face. His green eyes twinkled boyishly, yet there was a profound mystery buried inside of them. His tail flickered through the air, reaching impossible heights and angles. His ears were pricked, and they leaned forward on his head. He sat awkwardly, his position tense at the same time it was relaxed. The wind rippled through his long grey and black fur, blending his white underbelly with the grey and giving him a smoke-like appearence. His claws dug into the dirt, leaving small trails. One of his back trails, a claw-mark was missing. This tom was born missing one claw, a defect that could be completely coincidental, or the sign of a strange destiny.
Whatever it was that the missing claw was, the tom could not be bothered with it at the moment. He was staring intently into the river. His claws dug into the sand and he shifted forwards slightly, getting closer to the riverbank. Behind him, the sand merged into light grass, which tickled the back of his tail as the lithe tail flicked downwards through the air. The tom, now recognizable as a warrior of RiverClan, watched the water with an unfathomable expression on his face. He was deep in thought, watching the water swirl and go. Lichenfur, as he was named, sighed and flicked his tail once more. His eyes shone with what seemed like grief as he mouthed words to the open air. A silent sob seemed to wrack his body and he sighed, grinding his claws into the ground.
A chirp in the bushes to the left distracted him. He turned to see a small bird, a magpie, perched on the ground. It hopped towards a small red flower on the ground and began nosing at it curiously. A sense of rage overtook the tabby tom and he leapt for it, trying to pin it down. The bird sensed his clumsy approach and fluttered off. Cursing under his breath, Lichenfur looked down at the red flower. It was slightly bent, but nothing serious. A relieved look came over his face as he nosed it back up. The cat stood there looking at the floor, the wind howling at his back, for a long moment. Then he turned away, bowing his head and padding far away from the river. His muzzle was moving, but no words were coming out. Finally a sound escape him. First, another sigh, and then-
"Cardinalfur..."
It had been ten moons since the death of the blazing ginger warrior, but Lichenfur still came to the spot where he had drowned once every few suns. He talked silently, hoping the spirit of his former mentor could here him. The flower seemed like a sign from StarClan that Cardinalfur had forgiven him, and now Lichenfur protected it. Back in camp, he was a strong and brave warrior. Out here in the cold, he was a weak as a mewling kit.
Padding through the large clumps of reeds and back to the camp, Lichenfur tried to banish all thoughts of his former mentor. He allowed himself to be weak when he was mourning, but not back at camp. Back in the RiverClan camp, he needed to be strong. He was respected and looked up to. He needed to show them how to act. He was a role model for young kits, and he would never let that go. As his large feet crunched down springy green bracken, Lichenfur began to shiver. It was early in the morning and the sun had barely begin to rise. He wasn't on patrol until later in the day, and he wanted to take advantage of that. Sleep was hard to come by, and the warrior needed as much as he could.
Breezing into the RiverClan camp, the large warrior made his way to the warrior's den. Bumping past a pretty she-cat out for a morning hunt, he offered a shrug and a light purr. She flicked an ear at him before padding out of camp. Lichenfur did the cat version of a smirk by lowering his ears in a suggestive way. He padded into the den and curled up into a ball, burrowing deep into his bedding for comfort.
xxx
[/center][The messanger is burning and we don't know why.]
[/color][/size][/color]when everything ends before it even begins.
c o d e w o r d
[/i][/u][/center]ANTEDILUVIAN
xxx
[/center]o t h e r
[/i][/u][/center]nothing really kthx
OH OH.
I want him to find a mate, have a kit and then try to murder Midnightstar. He fails, of course, and is banished. Then his son Burntpaw is gonna be hated for all his life <3 (Think Tiger-Bramble).
xxx
[/center][/size][/blockquote][/color]
