Posts by Iforgot

[ LOL. Oranges! really.. ]

Moonkit had glanced at the tom and padded over to him. "Everyone doesn't like you besides this queen" She whispered to this tom had was besides this Cailco queen as Dean was standing close by Thunderfur. She seen that he didn't like it aswell. But she seen in Thunderfurs eyes, were pure anger. Scary... She thought and hid under Dean's chest as he sat down and his front legs were in front of him.

[size=1][/size][size=2]Dean purred at Sliverpaw's eager questions, he must really like trying new prey, he hoped that he wouldn't be as dissapointed as he was the first time he tried fish. "Wow!" he said as he talked about paw poisitons,"I've never heard of that. Snowflake taught me like this." As he spoke Dean slowly lowered his paw towards the pool until the fur of his paw just grazed the surface. "Now the fish will come up to nibble at my fur." he whispered hardly daring to breath in case the fish heard him. "When one does I'll unsheath my claws and flip it on to the-" Dean stopped and stood perfectly still, there it was again, a fish curious about what strange thing had entered its world. "There," Dean meowed as he flipped the fish onto the bank where it flopped around. "Now kill it before it flops its way back in."[/size][size=1] [/size]

Lily's ear perked up as she looked at Windpaw, "Good.Prey is returning and soon my clan will be well fed again." He had meowed. She nodded and gald that the prey in the forest will be coming out and the clan be fed more again. Lily had smiled and glanced at the blue sky, Its so pretty. She thought and glanced at the tom cat. "Well, at least the prey is coming back" She meowed and almost told him about her food, how its full every day.

Dean watched as Sliverpaw's fish shot out of the water and fell in a glittering arc onto the bank where it joined her now still fish. "Great!" He purred going over to nudge the fish. "It's huge!" He exclaimed brushing his tail across Sliverpaws chin. Suddenly he drew back slightly and sat down a few paces away from the Sliver tom What was she doing? He was surprised thatshe had even shown Sliverpaw this special place and now here he was flirting with TOM shamelessly! He had to stop! What must Sliverpaw think? "Let's have some," He said trying to distract himself. "I'm not officially on patrol and if we catch a few more no one will even know."
Then he bent over and took a dainty bite of fish. He straightened up and chewed for a moment then he sighed and swallowed, it was no use, he could feel herself being drawn to him, feel the feelings going out to him and, he hoped, coming from him to him. Almost against him will he scooted over until his brown pelt brushed against his golden one.

[ AHHH!!!!! O_O...Gay....cats...... ]

Dean had padded over to Willowpelt and nudged her hard. "Get up, i need to talk to you." He glanced around for Thunderfur if she knew what happened. Or what will happened. Dean had watched her rose and leave her kits. Dean had lead her out the camp.

[ I will add the link later, x3 ]

[ O_O.... I was gonna tell her that! She might not know. ]

Nothing happened.

Dean had lead Willowpelt to the part of the forest.

[ Sorry. I know now. I just had to fix the title for the polt. It was gonna be for the queen and dean but there was gonna be russetkit in it now it changed. ]

Dean had had nudged Willowpelt as he wrapped his tail around her shoulder. "Things are gonna be fine." He meowed. Now having his rubbing her back as she cried.

Lily had licked Windpaws cheek as she smiled at him. "Well, wanna hunt. Or if i can." She tried to hide that she can barly hunt. Maybe he will teach me. She thought.

Dean had smiled and licked her ear. He didn't feel anyone towards her. Dean just didn't want a mate at this moment. The dark brown cat had loooked at the sky, "Your welcome." He kepted rubbing her back.

[size=6] I GAVE MOONKIT TO SWITCHY FOR NOW. TILL I GET ONLINE MORE. C:[/size]

Dean looked at the night sky as he stared at it. "Willowpelt? that is nice." He meowd as he smiled at her. "I know, Thunderfur is gone and all but i don't like you like that. He gets mad at me for talking to you." He meowed as he wanted this to be Clear. He didn't like her like that. "The reason i came to Hawkclan to meet my sister." He meowed. "My Father, whom was a loner that made kits with a cailco she-cat that lived here, and thats not you because hes like older then us but, im saying that you might be my sister."

Siggy
Username:
Iforgot
Text:
Dean
Subtext:
To find or To be found
Colors:
Any
Border:
Circle with the shadow?
Extras:
None
Picture:
http://webconce.com/wp-content…siamese-blue-eyes-Cat.jpg
Codeword:
desu~

Dean had smiled then nodded. "Your mother was Willowmist right? mine too. I was Brownkit long time ago when i went with Pouncer." He meowed as he brushed her check. "Willowpelt, you don't know how much i miss you." He purred and hugged her as he rest his head on her shoulder. "Willowmist..died right? after i left...?" He asked.

Advanced Bio Form:

Character Name:
Dean- Brownkit before lefted.
Character Age:
23 moons
Gender:
Tom
Alliance:
Hawkclan
Rank:
Warrior
Appearance:

The basics. A strong interior, muscles toned and bones tired from numerous hours spent paddling in the river. Thick fur, teetering often between kept and ragged; scars and burns scattered arrestingly over his body: legs, back, tail, chest. The most apparent is a raised flesh battle scar, streaking from the bottom of his left eye to the base of the left ear, puckered pink against the blend of Brown and dark brown pelt. His namesake warm auburn discs, speaking volumes to his nature sit upon his handsome face, soft and rigid equally. His face, peaks, and tail dipped in brown tar, fading into an ocean of darker brown. Front legs bare no marks of toasty pelt, back legs slightly enveloped in brown. The whole body is not massive, but large and lean, a product of battle, fish, and swimming; muscular but not beefy. Another offsetting feature, something to instantly recoil from among many other Clan-cats. An iron chain-link collar donned upon his neck, jeweled with the claws and teeth of the fallen, a bone prize. Overall quite daunting, muscle and hardship welded into his very marrow, discovery of loss intertwined into every hair, wisdom and confidence oozing from every orifice. However, the body is only the cover of the book. Inside, there is so much more to discover.

Personality:

[li]Curious[/li]

[li]Polite[/li]

[li]Tactile[/li]

[li]Private[/li]

[li]Cynical[/li]

[li]Sarcastic[/li]

[li]Scarred[/li]

[li]Impatient[/li]

Dean is a a stoic yet curious tom, bordering polite born-leader and inquisitive apprentice. However, the tom possesses the inner mind of a strategist - every move is mapped to a degree, with each odd calculated and weighed considerably or to his judgment before any real move is made. He delights in being better than the opponent, being faster, usurping their self-assured battle plans with a sharp mind and inexplicable, unexplainable way of just knowing what works and what ends up with dead bodies.

This is a tom of privacy, hesitating to share anything even remotely personal with anything other than his subconscious. Although there is an alibi, his true origins remain known only to him and he does his best to hide it. He enjoys being around his Clan, taking pleasure in the presence and company they often provide him with. Although he delights in visiting with his Clanmates often, there are times when he often prefers to be alone, either sunning himself or alone, sulking in his cave. The waves of his past caress his mind far more than he'd like, and usually he deals. Often, even when he escapes these moods, he become too cynical for his own good, not bothering to be the strategist his Clan knows he is and rather gives sarcastic, obviously wrong replies just for the sake of making others feel his pain; it's not terrible, although it is a bit of an inconvenience when he doesn't bother to notice how serious a situation can be. Sometimes he draws back to reality quickly and other times he continues on with his self-induced tirade until Cottonwhisker or some cat or another snaps at him to quit being such an adder-mouth.

His method of operating is quite profound, as many leaders have found it. He often teeters between a polite, detached leader, meek and mild, barbed and sarcastic, cynical, and tactile. The swings aren't drastic and don't vary within short time spans, but when he appears at one Gathering foul-mouthed and another polite and kind it's quite difficult how to take him. His body is often a judge of his mood, and it's quite apparent when he's impatient, snapping at an apprentice or warrior to hurry up with catching prey, organizing a patrol, or joining the Gathering group.

History:

23 moons ago. A she-cat, Calico pelt marred with blood. Blood everywhere, her shrieks ripping into the night, indescribable pain and grief quickly sapping what was left of her meager life. Her kits, surely dead. Wounds ravaging every surface of her body, hidden from her pursuers. A mate, sacrificing his supposed one true love and babies for a chance at the impossible absolute power. Agony ripped through her like a jagged sickle, tears and sobs shaking her as she struggled to keep the kittens from breathing. What good were they, when the tom who loved her literally left her for dead. She didn't want any part of him to live. They must all die.

What seemed like moons later. A mother dead, killed from heartache and untreated arterial flow. All but one brother and sister slaughtered at the hands of the one he should have called mom. Darkness quickly approaching, a soothing sigh of relief from the pain and hunger, feelings unnameable by kit who'd been born for no less than a few moments. And then, the welcoming black.

18 moons. A pursuit, the brown tom running beyond the point of exhaustion. The massive black and the scrawny blue kept clipping his heels, snarling and trying to tear into the kit if he stopped moving. The tom even vomited, but kept running. Training always began early, ended late. No one could escape it. Never stop running.

16 moons. Hard. Untrusting. Pessimistic. A terror, a disgrace. A cancerous tumor of the feline world. While the Clan cats, at this age, were just learning how to be a warrior, Red was murdering to stay alive. The cruel, peculiar sense of irony mocked him hard.

15 moons. An old she-cat, unexpectedly brilliant and cunning. A drink of water on a murderous mission turned into his shining beacon; he could live without the fear of tyranny, sleeping knowing that any failure meant termination. So why did he turn it down?

14 moons. His troupe was leaving, having combed the area thoroughly, picked the land's bones beyond the point of clean, exhausted all it had to offer and then some, sucked the marrow right from the source. That she-cat was in his mind, calling him again...

10 moons. He looked upon his clan with overwhelming pride, whisked away by a riptide of guilt. Not born of these loins, yet somehow standing upon this huge rock, declaring his journey to StarClan a success, his leadership official by those Gods which, for some reason he believed, has chosen him among the many blood-thirsty scavengers to change, turn the shackles to dust, and begin differently. The change was easy, and came naturally. But they had thought him a prodigal son of sorts, a kit lost and somehow returned by the guiding paws of StarClan. Dean knew it was StarClan, and that his father's brood would never find him. No one could ever know his lineage, even if it drug him to the grave; suppressed feelings of guilt (for lying) and filth (he of all cats didn't deserve this). All his crimes, supposedly cleansed, wrought havoc in his dreams, made sunny days turn into thunderstorms or suffocating whirlpools. He would never be like them; he would be revealed as a fraud, although all his secrets died with the old leader. It was unexplainable, but he could feel it ripping him apart slowly. He shook the thoughts off, lasting but a moment in actual time. He continued to smile; he loved this clan, and would prove himself worthy of the respect that old she-cat so steadfastly claimed she had for him. This was a new life, a new time to him, and the thoughts would only ravage him when he allowed it, StarClan providing that that was never. He chuckled to himself; He knew his memories would live and influence him forever and true, a small part would always be sad and lost due to the adverse childhood, but who was to say he couldn't be semi-normal.
Roleplay Sample:

The tom remained unawares to the feminine presence not quite too far off, too engrossed in his own serenade to may much mind to the concerto of petals occupying Duskcloud's vision. A gentle smile touched his face, his paws extending out before him in a harmonious yawn with the wind, a light breeze stroking the fur of his should-be-burned side. He was beginning to feel the harshness of the sun, and snapped from his pleasant musings of how simply delightful being burned to a crisp were; he stood, giving a final heave of a stretch and practically crawled toward the river, slinking as lazily as possible. He yawned dreamily once more before throwing himself into the cool recesses of the river.

Comments (optional):
I had Switchy help me with this o.o

Dean had let out a loud sighned. "That was true.." He frowned and licked his sisters cheek as he had padded around then sat in front of her. "I hate poucner..for doing that to me.." He meowed as he glanced at her belly. "Your...gonna have kits again?" He asked.

{ XD }

Thanks. x3

Dean purred. "I am an Uncle?" He asked. He purred at the idea.

{ Bumpin' }

She waited for his answer.

Dean shurgged. The tom had glanced around with a frown. "Maybe."