Character Name: Wicker
Character Age: three years
Gender: she-cat
Alliance: loner
Rank: loner
Appearance (6 or more sentences): Wicker is a tall, slender dark brown tabby, with a stark saunter and cooled expression. She has short, thick fur marked by chocolate stripes and spots, covering her pelt and long tail, tipped white. Her eyes are a fervent, blazing blue, deep pools of thoughtful aqua that can give a steely cold stare when necessary. Her nose is dark pink. Strong, lean muscles ripple with every smooth move of her body, giving her astounding speed and prowess to make Wicker a formidable fighter. Her paws are wide and equipped with large, sharp claws. Wicker's limbs and shoulders are neat and sharp, her legs long and lithe, moving with precision and grace.
Personality (6 or more sentences--these sentences form their own section and do NOT count towards the 4 groups below. Those are additional requirements): She has a clever mind and a sometimes sharp tongue. Wicker deals with cats in an authortive way, solving issues and other situations with a firm paw. She leads with a hard heart, but possesses a rather matriarchal mind, preferring to head a group rather than follow. She tends to treat ones she looks out for in a motherly way. There are, however, many things that can make her snap, and her fury is not something one would be inclined to face. When it comes to danger, Wicker is protective, putting herself before others when they are threatened by harm.
---Likes (at least 3): patrolling her territory, sunbathing, family/close friends, nighttime
--- Dislikes (at least 3): Twolegs, aggressive intruders, dogs
---Strengths (No MORE than 5): speed, height, strength, endurance
---Weaknesses (At least 3): easily provoked, protective, too suspicious
History (8 or more sentences): At the start of her life, Wicker grew up in a dreary suburban Twolegplace, riddled by smog and back alleys filled with the obstacles of being a stray. She and her two siblings lived with a small group of cats at the residence of Twoleg nest, painted red and surrounded by a couple of low hanging trees. Day was a world filled with dangers and loud noises, plagued by Twolegs and their monsters. Rarely would she and her family venture out into the streets from their secret hiding places, scattered about the Twoleg territory. However, night was a quiet dream, when cats would come creeping out from the corners and nooks of the town. Wicker would follow her mother and family out around the many nests, searching for scraps of food and scrumptious morsels of prey. As Wicker grew older, she was faced with the decision of staying with her group or wandering the streets on her own. Deciding to find another future, she was faced with a life full of hardship and violence, fighting her way out of the grimy Twolegplace and into the richer neighborhoods of luxurious gardens and pampered cats. Wicker found herself upon a large, gleaming white mansion, several stories high with an ample amount of neatly trimmed flower bushes and large, flourishing trees. Ponds filled with bright koi and lily pads were dotted around the gardens, along with sparkling marble structures and clean pavilions. A high white picket fence surrounded the property, with several nicks in the ground big enough for a cat to crawl through. A tool shed sat amongst a few bushes, sometimes visited by the groundskeeper. Behind the spansive property a forest sprawled out, dense, dark, and thick with tall trees. On both sides of the house other mansions' luscious gardenscapes sprawled. A busy thunderpath stretched in front of the house, lined by shady maples. Wicker proceeded to live on the grounds, which she soon found out was occupied by an elderly Twoleg woman, who seldom came out of the manor. Plenty of nooks around the estate provided exceptional hiding spots and nests for Wicker. Occaisionally, the old woman would leave dry food for her, except Wicker was too feral to let the woman, or any Twoleg, come near her. Though, this quickly attracted another cat, a large black tom who attacked Wicker and attempted to drive her out of the territory. She bore a scar across her back from him, a score of claws marks. The tom quickly fled near after, as Wicker had left him with much worse wounds. Wicker explored the neighborhood, sunbathing on cars and knocking over trash cans, however now she remembered to mark the area around the mansion with scent markers, claiming officially as her own. After a brief encounter with another rogue, Wicker soon gave birth to her first kit, a cream cameo she-kit(unnamed).
Roleplay Sample (Required for first advanced bio): Wicker sat underneath the dusty foundation of the shed, icy blue eyes penetrating the driving rain. Clouds blotted out the late summer sky in lumpy grey hues, casting a gloomy light over the estate. Her small kit lay curled against her paws, warm and safe in the leafy nest Wicker had constructed when she arrived at the manor. Yawning, Wicker stood up and licked her cameo kit, warming her cream fur before nudging her towards the center of the dry bed of material. Squeezing out of the den, Wicker crawled out from the hollow beneath the neat structure, her tabby fur scraping the sides the rough dirt on the sides of the tunnel. Emerging, the bushes around her dripped with the heavy downpour that now soaked her coat. The grounds were drenched in water, the carefully trimmed grass sodden with rain squishing beneath Wicker's feet. Wandering towards the high white mansion, Wicker surveyed the area to make sure of the fact that no cats had crossed her scent markers. Satisfied by her quick look around, she bounded quickly towards the large Twoleg nest, her strides lengthy and extended in an effort to reach cover from the shower. Reaching the end of her sprint, Wicker now slowed and stood before the back end of the mansion, an open space protected by a roof being held up on white columns. Smooth, flat boards of white wood lined the platform that was reached by climbing a couple low steps. A welcomed scent of food wafted through the air as Wicker wound her way past several Twoleg objects and onto a rug that lay in front of a doorway, accessible by a cat-flap. What lay past the doorway was no mystery to Wicker; she had explored the mansion many times when the elderly Twoleg was asleep. However, she dared not bring her tiny kit there, as the Twoleg might trap them, or worse. Pushing through the flap, Wicker now padded across a clean, sparkling black surface, accented with gold marks. The mansion was filled with velvety soft things, rich hues of color and shimmering white staircases. A bowl of dry, crunchy food sat in the middle of the floor, it's dull color and scent rather boring to Wicker, but food was food, nevertheless. Now sitting before the dish, Wicker stretched her neck forward and began to munch on the tasteless pellets.
Comments (optional): None.
[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#827839 borderwidth=0px; width: 450px]Narrowed eyes glared at the stranger from the neatly trimmed bush, the tom edging closer and closer towards her territory. Agression welled up inside Wicker like the puddles on the ground, and she let out a breathy hiss. Patience, patience. Soon they would learn their lesson. She lashed her white tipped tail and stalked forward, each step slow as the wet leaves brushed against her tabby pelt. Emerging from the bush, she stood, sharp shouldered and cold in stature. Rain pounded against the thunderpath and cascaded down the edges of it in small streams. Wicker bounded through the grass, increasing her pace as she hit the hard black surface, until she ran full throttle across the stinking path. Her claws met fur as she hurtled onto the tom's back and let out a screech.[color=#728FCE]