Posts by SilenceXxx

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    thank you, craverz :3
    he sounds very interesting; i think i will stick for the most part to his personality, but perhaps not one hundred parcent...
    i would love to start off with a roleplay with you if you aren't too busy with all those other characters c;
    thank you so much!


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    Wrath


    Flicking his white tipped tail, Wrath grudgingly joined the meeting, failing to push down his anger. He'd been calmly looking at the sky when another of his common bursts of rage had risen, and he'd all but yowled in menace. Wrath was a part of Crave and Magic's first litter, and he recognized many of Crave's other offspring at the meeting as he trudged over, gold eyes furious. He still had no explanation for his original rage, but that hardly mattered now. The Skull simply grew more and more angry as he thought darker and darker thoughts, thoughts of how he hated his anger and, simultaneously, of how he hated she-cats and hated hunting and hated fighting and hated kits and hated life and hated Forti- wait, no, that was wrong. No, he didn't hate Fortis. He couldn't hate fortis. Wait, he didn't hate kits or fighting or hunting, or... well, maybe she-cats he did hate, but still- Calm. Calm. Calm, Wrath felt his fur settling once more, and he looked around, embarrassed, hoping to Fortis that he hadn't made too terrible a fool of himself in his moment of wrath.


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    [size=12px][hm... seems slightly circular, but i think weirdness in the form will clear up in the roleplay; i've always been bad with sticking to what a form says anyway xD]


    name;; web


    age;; 29 moons
    gender;; tom
    desired rank;; underboss
    backup rank;; soldier


    description;; hardly an extraordinary sight, web had short, plain grey fur and green eyes that are much adept at appearing unfocused and dreamy, when really they are watching. though fighting was what he was trained for since he was born- his father mentored him, as he was born a rogue- and he has the strength of a fighter, it is the hunt or a chase which the underboss truly enjoys. web is, in many ways, intricate as his name suggests. it is impossible to untangle what goes on in his dark brain, or why the seemingly ordinary tom became so enamored with killing. luckily, though he isn't a tom to cross, web does consider himself (though others may not) a fair tom, so it is easy to reason with him, even as he knows how to talk cats to his way of thinking.


    thanks for viewing! c:
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    Desmond [Shadowveil]


    Desmond couldn't help but be amused, his maw twitching slightly, by the slightly uncomfortable situation the Her Majesty was in at the moment. It wasn't difficult for the council member to pick up on her uncertainty, having known Queen Andreia for quite awhile, and having such keen eyes. The tom, once a scout for the Clan, was seated in as much shadow as he could find, as was his preference. It was hardly a conscious decision; the tom simply made a habit of shrinking himself into small, shadowed areas, where his thick, dark pelt was easily concealed. The black smoke's alert, dark olive eyes roved over the assembled, and in his mind, even if not by what he saw, Desmond Shadowveil knew there was curiosity in the minds of those in attendance. They could tell that this meeting held importance. Desmond, too, was curious what exactly Her Majesty planned to say, and he fixed his solid gaze on her, wondering whether it would look better to have a council member silence the audience, or whether the queen would prefer it be settled without help, as she was certainly capable of dealing with proceedings herself.


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    <<web>>


    emerging from one of the circus tents, an apparently average, grey tom padded towards the base tent. even in the darkness, he appeared bored, his green eyes lacking any sign of curiosity, or even intelligence. however, this simple tom was really web, a loyal underboss of phantom, the leader of the dark carnival. in his deep, quiet voice, the sinister tom spoke to the boss, "have we any plans for the night?"


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    [font=times new roman][color=black]Clan Hylledale


    cat's name:
    Desmond [Shadowveil]


    gender&sexuality:
    Tom&Bi-curious (Leans straight)


    age:
    34 moons


    detailed appearance:
    With his dark fur and often mysterious ways, Desmond can appear sinister at first sight. He is a black smoke with a fighter's build, although he's spent a great deal of his time in ShadowClan honing some of his... secondary skills, his keen, dark olive eyes his preferred weapon in a fight. It's rare to see the tom visibly relaxed, and this tends to be bad when trying to inspire others to be calm and remain hopeful, but it's a clear display of how he prefers to lead from the front line. However, in the uncommon times that Desmond is settled down, it isn't hard to catch an amused glint in his eyes or see his general warmth, and his especially prominent soft spot for kits.


    detailed personality:
    From the moment his eyes first opened, it seems, Desmond has had large ambitions. The bold council member started out a little kit in Clan Hylledale, with two parents who weren't any big heroes or anything particularly honorable, just hardworking and loyal to the Clan. However, it didn't take long for the strong, intelligent kit to make himself distinguished through daring schemes and an interest in the politics of the Clan. Desmond is the sort of tom who is quick to the chase, cutting out all but the bare necessities and driving himself toward his goal. This occasionally comes to the point of being impulsive without thinking things through enough, and often times he's made decisions he's come to regret, but that's where his trust in his clanmates comes in. Desmond's philosophy is that every cat contributes what another cat needs, and that belief allows him to be confident so he can make decisions, but also be careful and listen to others.


    detailed history:
    Born a part of Clan Hylledale, Desmond prides himself in his knowledge of its history. He was born to a modest couple of cats, but as a kit, his favorite pastime was always thinking up ways to do things without being caught. When he received his true name, it wasn't surprising that he chose to be a scout, what with his keen eyesight and love for being in on all the action. He served as a loyal scout for several moons before being promoted to a council member. In all honesty, this wasn't a large surprise, although it was shortly after the tragic death of his parents. They'd been close to retirement, and it had been a cool, pleasant summer night, but sadly, his mother suffered a heart attack. As she died, Desmond's father took his own life, unable to live without his mate. This inspired Desmond to rise and do his best for the clan he loved.


    relatives:
    Mother (NPC && Hunter)- Deceased; Father (NPC && Scout)- Deceased; Brother (Scout && WIP)


    roleplay sample with:
    Desmond couldn't help but be amused, his maw twitching slightly, by the slightly uncomfortable situation the Her Majesty was in at the moment. It wasn't difficult for the council member to pick up on her uncertainty, having known Queen Andreia for quite awhile, and having such keen eyes. The tom, once a scout for the Clan, was seated in as much shadow as he could find, as was his preference. It was hardly a conscious decision; the tom simply made a habit of shrinking himself into small, shadowed areas, where his thick, dark pelt was easily concealed. The black smoke's alert, dark olive eyes roved over the assembled, and in his mind, even if not by what he saw, Desmond Shadowveil knew there was curiosity in the minds of those in attendance. They could tell that this meeting held importance. Desmond, too, was curious what exactly Her Majesty planned to say, and he fixed his solid gaze on her, wondering whether it would look better to have a council member silence the audience, or whether the queen would prefer it be settled without help, as she was certainly capable of dealing with proceedings herself.


    roleplay sample without:
    Tink. Tink. Tink.


    Water from the recent rain pattered into a tin basin from the gutter of a somewhat ramshackle old twolegden, beside which a scraggly looking tom had been seated. The sun was slowly emerging, and a faint rainbow could be seen by looking a little over the right and above. Now, he padded over to the basin until his deep, brown gaze was intense and focused. Curling his white tail around his paws, he sat and began a waiting game, content enough with the humidity that the rain had brought to feel that he ought to enjoy himself for an hour or two, though of course to him, the passing time was defined by the position of the half-concealed, clouded sun above. He held his forepaw up, in his head calculating just the right moment...


    The tan-patched forepaw darted out suddenly and caught a droplet of water just as it threatened to fall below the rim of the basin. The water felt cool in the moment that it lingered on his pad, before sliding down to the muddy ground, a barely tangible reward. Triumphant, the paw returned to its first stance, held sideways to where the water dripped, in the hopes that perhaps it might be yet again successful in intercepting its approaching foe, that usually dreaded water. For an inexplicable reason, this had always been a favorite pastime of the tom; something in its tranquility and the precision required to catch the water at the last possible moment before it escaped reach appealed to him. Before a second victory could be obtained, something blasted by the tom’s ear, terrifyingly and unavoidably fast. It was luck that the cat wasn’t shot to death, and it sent his mind reeling with fear, kicked up his adrenaline to a level it hadn’t reached for ages, hadn’t been forced to since his days of being a clan cat. Simultaneously, a resounding crack deafened him, and he took no chance by taking his time to send prayer to StarClan that his hearing return, lest he himself be forever removed by whatever foxdung had so inconsiderately attacked him.


    In a moment, the tom was racing away from the twolegden, feeling as though his head had acquired a pulse, a worrisome idea, as he wasn’t sure that this ought to be the case, and meanwhile struggling inwardly to push away thoughts of the past. Even as he faced this inner turmoil, the need for speed brought back long ago, determinedly forgotten, memories, reminders of who he’d been and why he’d been forced to this lonely life. Cynosure’s white and tan splotched pelt disappeared into the cover of the forest, followed by the angry yells of the twoleg, spurred on by the menace the words held, though he couldn’t decipher the meaning of the sounds. Had he been human, Cynosure might have made out something to do with weeks and weeks, and rabbits and herbs gone missing.
    At last, drawing out ragged breaths, the beat tom, who’d failed to stay in shape over the moons, what with the easily caught twoleg bunnies and all, observed his newly acquired surroundings. He’d hardly looked where he’d been going as he’d raced away from the awful, one hundred percent evidently twoleg-bred, attacker. It was in its own sense a monster, easily imagined blasting down a thunderpath, the tom reflected, disgusted by the very existence of such a horrid thing. The idea of a gun, despite his moons of experience in such matters as twoleg combat (which was the root of quite a deal of pride), was new to Cynosure, and was immediately deemed an evil among evils.


    anything else:

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    <<web>>


    amusement lit up the eyes of the cunning underboss for a moment, before emotion was once again concealed. he allowed for a slow, deliberate rumble of laughter to make a point to any cat who may be watching: they were in danger, and they had better be good, or they would meet the fate of this imagined she-cat. "that sounds most entertaining... recently, i've been thinking the numbers really ought to be cut down; too many idle cats has never been beneficial."


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    <<web>>


    lazily stretching out a leg, web nodded his agreement as he pictured it. that could become gruesome indeed, he reckoned. the tom felt a growing need, however, to finish a life tonight, and he looked about the carnival ground once again, eyes open for a potential victim. who had been slacking off recently, growing fat off the work of another?


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