Posts by Jack

Wow... I had already given up hope!

Sure! (to both of you)

Just one more to go...

AN: Not my first advanced bio.

Character Name: Stormwind
Character Age: 23 moons
Gender: Tom
Alliance: Shadowclan
Rank: Warrior

Appearance (6 or more sentences):

Stormwind's fur is short and as black as ink. His tail is short and missing a few tufts of fur, his long whiskers are slightly crooked, and his ears are visibly scarred. In short, he generally matches the stereotypical "rogue" image; it is only belied by his glossy, well-groomed coat. With veiled green eyes, closely spaced, he saturates his environment in condescension and resentment. Very rarely does the glint of approval shine in those dark orbs. Of all his physical fighting aspects, none are exceptional except for his hind legs, with which he can spring to intercept an unsuspecting enemy with almost unrivaled celerity. If one element of his physique were to be singled out as his weakness, it would be his eyes; he relies much more heavily on smell and sound than sight. Stormwind is unusually tall, but not alarmingly or inconveniently so; his height is offset by his relative leanness.

Personality (6 or more sentences--these sentences form their own section and do NOT count towards the 4 groups below. Those are additional requirements):

Stormwind is accustomed to distrust, having been a loner for most of his life, and he in fact enjoys it. Knowing that he's capable of beating most cats in a fight, at least if he has the element of surprise, he sometimes provokes other clanmates with sarcasm and subtle insults. Immensely annoyed when anyone in a position of authority makes a decision that he deems incompetent, he will not hesitate to express his opinions in a very bitter manner. His preferred style of fighting is the ambush; as he once put it, "Laying the trap is not half the battle; it is all of the battle. If your opponent has the chance to strike at you, you have already failed." He said this to a younger warrior when he was in a rare benevolent mood, but as a general rule, he does not share advice like this with others. Other general rules are the following: When authority confronts him over some issue, he responds sarcastically. When an inferior confronts him, he responds sourly. When someone complements him, he pays little attention. When someone insults him, he responds with biting condescension. Generally speaking, he is an unpleasant character.

---Likes (at least 3): He loves being in command, night, and above all, war.
--- Dislikes (at least 3): He dislikes incompetence in others, discipline, daylight, and discussing his past. He's annoyed when other show him kindness, partially from a lack of causal comprehension and partially from the uncomfortable feeling always elicited by unrequited generosity. This mix of emotions generally results in an awkward silence.
---Strengths (No MORE than 5): He's good at fighting and good at leading others in battle.
---Weaknesses (At least 3): He's arrogant, sometimes not responsible, condescending, and mean. The scars of his past (no cliché intended) run very deep, and the main factor inhibiting the growth of friendships in Stormwind's life is the fact that most of his previous friends were brutally murdered.

History (8 or more sentences): This is past the requirement length, but it still feels uncomfortably brief. Let me know if you think it needs expansion.

Stormwind was born in a small clan, far distant from the fourtrees and the surrounding clans, at the beginning of the month of December. His father, Shadowstar, had been the leader, but his mother Lilyreed had been the medicine cat. Because of this, Stormwind's arrival was unwelcome, to say the least, and they were banished. His mother gave him the name Storm, and his two sisters the names Willow and Eagle. Unfortunately, the winter had been harsh, and by the following spring it was only Stormwind and his mother. Shortly after this, they had joined a small wandering group of rogues, not large enough to be called a clan. Stormwind's mother died of sickness, and the group continued to grow until they decided to settle down, claim territory, and become a clan. By this point, Stormwind had established himself as an excellent tactician and was in charge of most of their attacks. They tried to take territory, interestingly, from the clan from which Stormwind had originally come, and in their attack on the clan's camp, Stormwind killed Shadowstar. But Shadowstar's lives were not spent; he was revived by Starclan, and nearly killed Stormwind. Having grown up away from the clan, Stormwind had never been told of the "9-lives system," so he was understandably shocked.
Shortly after this, when Stormwind was leading another raid, his clan's camp was ambushed and destroyed by a rival group. He and the warriors who were accompanying him became loners; a few months later, all but Stormwind had found clans or groups to join. Finally, Stormwind encountered Shadowclan territory and casually strolled in, heading straight for the camp, scarcely minding the patrol that escorted him.
While they were deciding what to do with him, news came of a skirmish with Windclan. Seeing the opportunity to participate in a large battle. Stormwind ran, hiding himself in the twilight shadows, until he reached the fight, and there he killed two cats. His fighting prowess and his independent character appealed to the Shadowclan leader, who allowed him to join.

Roleplay Sample (Required for first advanced bio):
I know it's not required, but I couldn't resist. This is the fight with Windclan.

Running swiftly, stealthily, blending in and out of the growing shadows in the faltering twilight, Stormwind drew near to the conflict. As soon as it was in sight, his calculating eyes picked out the contestants in the dim and fading light, identifying friends and foes. His pulse quickened. After so long, he was finally back in his native element: war. This was what he had missed ever since his attack on Nightclan. Singling out an isolated enemy, he sprang with the force of a tiger, the precision of a panther, and the silence of death itself. The surprised yowl of the target became a quiet gurgle, as the blood that had carried his life spilled out of a torn jugular, pooling onto the swampy grass. Without a pause, Stormwind was on the next target. He was moving completely on instinct, yet still calculated every move; before he even moved, he knew how the struggle would begin and how it would end. Attacking from the rear left side of the enemy, he gave the opponent a gentle push with his paw, then met the turn of the opponent's head with a sharp shove that briefly snapped the enemy's neck back. In this vulnerable position, the other cat would instinctively fall away from the blow and shelter his neck, and this was what Stormwind counted on. As the other cat hit the ground, Stormwind was suddenly on his opposite side, and took advantage of the opportunity to slice open the unshielded other side of the cat's throat. The cry of ultimate pain that the cat raised was shrill and chilling, echoing through the twilight, the last sound this warrior would ever make. He continued to shudder as his life spilled out before his eyes. But Stormwind, either unfeeling or uncaring, had already moved on. He was fully caught up in the thrill of battle now: the Scourge of the Marshes had returned. But before he could continue, the other opponents were gone.

Comments (optional):

Stormwind, like Halofire, has a complete history, albeit a bit shorter (~4500 words). I may post it when I have the time. It describes how his character was generally amiable in the rogue group, and how after the death of his friend Wasp, his character descended to its present level.

One more thing. I do not necessarily intend Stormwind to be a static character. That means I'm open to the possibility of another character coming in and trying to change him.

All right, then. I guess you're supposed to take Autumnpaw over here, then the ceremony can proceed.

(OOC: All right. Let me know when the next adventure starts; I'll jump in then.)

Halofire stood with no small measure of anticipation, though he was adept at keeping it hidden. Having never had an apprentice before, he was uncertain of exactly what to expect. But although uncertain, he was ready. Ready as I'll ever be...

The look that swam across Halofire's face was one of annoyance, but it was almost immediately displaced by one of resigned acceptance. He spoke in a subdued voice to the intruder: "We weren't exactly talking about anything. We were just about to go hunting."

Fantastic.

I'll be back here on the 11th. Until then, I'm leaving you two in charge of marketing. Find someone to complete the band, then we can get this show on the road. I'm counting on you!

Halofire's expression showed a bit of exasperation. He muttered, "Just as long as" you don't get in the way. He didn't say that last bit out loud. With a brief yet discernible effort, he pulled himself into a poise of cheerfulness. This guy is a bit weird... he thought to himself. "You want to catch a squirrel?" he asked with a bit of dubious perplexity.

Fantastic. Gold, do you want Kudion or Epios?

Excellent. Epios was always my favorite of the characters. Anyway, a few things still need to be nailed down before we can begin.

1. Names: Are we happy with them the way they are? Here are some possible alternates:
-- Achlus --> Atremes (unmoving, calm) or Phronis (prudence)
-- Logia --> Adeia (fearless) or Parresia (outspoken)
-- Kudion --> Cephalus (leader) or Thymikos (high-spirited) or Purithumas (fiery-spirited) or Kydion (alternate spelling of Kudion)

2. Personalities: It would be nice if they all had (informal) profiles. A few sentences of personality would suffice. I could create them if you don't want to.

3. Gold, are you okay with being the group leader?

Great. What about the profile?

Oh, and on a side note: Cephalus was actually his original name in the group I made. I only changed it because it occurred to me that he might not end up being the leader. But I'm glad you're keeping it; I like the name "Kudion."

OOC: I'm in a writer's mood. I'm sorry if my vocabulary is a bit excessive.

IC: Halofire smiled, and the expression in his eyes contained a peculiar combination of apprehension and enthusiasm, particularly the former. "Yes, that's right," he said. Where am I supposed to begin? The meeting was over, the April sun was still high, and a dry, flavorless wafting breeze imbued the budding trees with the barest hint of motion. It was time for training to begin. "Okay, to start off..." His voice had the tendency to trail, not pause, when it came to a clausal break; this was a characteristic, though generally subdued, quality of his speech that had the tendency to significantly elevate in situations of uncertainty, such as the one presently at hand. "Let's just see what you know." His complexion, though clearly indicative of his procedural ignorance, manifested a gradually mounting surety and confidence. "What can you tell me about Thunderclan's borders and neighbors?"

*bump*

Yeah, it is a bit short, but... choppy? Really? There's a difference between being uncomfortably choppy and properly punctuated, and I see little margin for improvement besides putting the whole thing in verse.

Nevertheless, I shall take another look at it. By the way, what do you think of the character himself?

Thanks! I plan to!

All right. It would be really nice if their personalities could match their names: Achlus should be stoic and somewhat indecipherable, Logia should be intelligent and wise, and Kudion should be obstinately ambitious. But it's really all up to you.

I like it! I'll try to have Epios' in by the end of the day, but homework may interfere.

Amidst the dancing streaks of the sunlight filtering in among the marshy trees and the sluggishly soggy breeze that dampened and stirred the tops of the dew-heavy blades of marsh grass, the dark figure of Stormtree infiltrated the camp. His inky fur and smooth manner of motion gave him a striking perpetual resemblance to a shadow or silhouette. His jaws were devoid of prey, which was unusual; his morning hunts were almost never failures. His eyes were devoid of anything but arrogant resentment, which was usual. However, his unwonted lack of predatory success and the resulting increase in the foulness of his temper this morning prompted him to seek amusement.
Walking casually toward Darkgale, taking care to approach from downwind and not make a sound, he halted a slightly-less-than-respectful distance away. His voice was light, but carried an edge sharper than a steel blade, as he interrupted the warrior's rest: "Behold our clan's most industrious member, hard at work." The sarcasm was tangible.

OOC: I have duly ignored it.

IC:
Another cat was also taking an evening stroll. His black coat was slick and smooth, unruffled by the small and damp breeze that was filling the marsh with an imperceptibly minute rushing sound and a chill, despairing feeling. But this cat's heart, far from being contemplative and solemn, was at its lightest, for only in the blessed stillness and liberating shadows of the night could it feel happiness in any capacity. "Happiness" isn't the correct term; what he felt was simply a partial freedom from the constant annoyance and resentment that enveloped him when he was in the light and in the camp. He reveled in the feeling, expressing a dimension of his character never seen by others. At night, he was not the sour and bitter Stormwind the others knew by day.
So distracted was he by this regular yet extraordinary feeling, that he scarcely noticed the proximity of Stoneheart until their paths had nearly collided. In the span of a second, a rapid sequence of emotions flitted across his features: surprise, shock, fury, confusion, annoyance, and finally resigned coolness. His voice was unhurried and as smooth a marble rolling on ice, and carried only the slightest trace of subdued passion; it chiefly conveyed tired annoyance. "Shouldn't you be back in the camp with the others?"

Halofire shared Lionsoul's aversion to violence. Peace was ever his preference over war, but it seemed that war had a way of always shouldering its way in, and leaving everyone with the choice to either fight or be robbed or killed. Walking briskly, carefree, alone, across the forest floor that was dampened by a vestige of the morning dew, cooled by the soft wind, and illuminated by the dancing spots of light from the midday sun, he slowly slowed to a quiet halt behind Lionsoul. Halofire knew him by appearance, though they had never spoken beyond the usual pleasantries, and knew of his recent injuries. The wounds had not been shallow; Halofire couldn't imagine that they weren't still hurting a bit. "Hi there..." His voice was casual. "How's the border? Any scents?"