Posts by Nyte

White tom? The bengal tom was struck dumb for a few heartbeats with the brief touch between him and Jangwa until he came to realize that a white tom had joined earlier that day. He didn't remember his name, or if he had ever been welcomed by Atrum himself, but it was worth a shot. Maybe getting all the cats together would be better?

"Jangwa, I'm sorry to stress you further, but the tom's name has lost me. Do you happen to remember? Also; would it not be best if you headed a border patrol? We should set our borders down and drive out any unwelcome guests. You know how to deal with predators in the desert than I."

OOC:: Was Morph's nameless tom the one you were speaking of? If so, he still hasn't come out of the bushes xD

OOC:: Ah, sorry. Skull. I thought I had read SkullClan on the main boards, but my mind is playing even more tricks on me. ._.

BIC::
The wind blew, forcing the pouring rain into a slant.

OOC:: I like that idea, Phan, but I must agree with Dawn. However, the rain officially started before the weather changed throughout the site, so I think this plot should continue with the storm as if what is happening site-wide has not happened yet. If that makes sense at all...

BIC::
Haunt turned his face skyward as the rain began to pelt down with a more intense emotion; almost as if it were fighting with the cats intself. If it kept up like this a storm would surely come, but with the cooling temperatures would it truly? Perhaps the cats were all in store for a hailstorm.

Morph;; Sounds like a plan. I'm off to make an official bio for the kit, do you have any kit predictions? I want to make an advanced character out of her; I'll be using her for plenty of plots. We shall have to brainstorm :P

Reddy;; Ah, good point. I'll go hunt through the pseudos. Also, a love triangle sounds good but to me it sounds like Duii just wants power instead of Jangwa's affection. I am not sure if this is true, but that is what I am reading out of his actions. Night, prove me wrong otherwise xD

OOC:: I read your post but had an image of him creeping through some bushes rather than out of them xD What, does he want a big brother to annoy so he locked on Atrum? Baha! :P

BIC:: Atrum flicked his ears and raised his dark tabby fur to block the frequent winds.

The calico apprentice followed Rainlegs without hesitation, forgetting about her question as soon as the chocolate warrior had told her they had to move. The she-cat was ready for a change of scenery, actually, and was eager to be lead throughout the territory casually after bounding after and in front of her mentor before.

Bright blue eyes scoured over all the plants in the forest, which had started to become pelted with rain, the water dampening Featherpaw's pelt, the calico held her gaze on a pretty pink flower. The apprentice was surprised that the petite plant had survived this long; it was the beginning of winter and the cold and damp were quickly moving in. Batting a paw at the edges of the petals, the she-cat was mesmerized by the pure, innocent beauty of nature. Too bad winter will cause everything to die.

Turning swiftly and bounding after the earthy warrior, Featherpaw skidded to a halt beside her mentor once she had noticed her mentor do the same. Rainlegs' words tickled her ears as she listened in, gazing at the large, dying fields where herds of sheep and cattle had once grazed. 'Scent the air now. Tell me what it is you smell.'

The blankness of the question struck Featherpaw with a wave of stupidity. Was the warrior just testing her or was she wanting something specific from her apprentice? Raising her nose to the air, mouth open to catch any and all scents surrounding the two felines, the little she-cat almost gagged on the strong scent of dog and manure. "Well," Featherpaw started, trying desperately to block out the overwhelming smell of canine and the waste of the dumb sheep. "I can definitely smell animal dirt. And some dog, but I think the scents are older. Maybe earlier this quarter-moon?" Casting a side-long glance at Rainlegs, the apprentice searched for signs of approval on her face. Had she picked up on the right scent? "And a few mice, hiding in the grass. There doesn't look like much to hide in anymore, though."

OOC:: You were fine Does Rainlegs happen to have a crush on the deputy? xD Also, I was thinking about some possible warrior names for Featherpaw. I kind of want to make her a warrior, but she would be useful for some plots as an apprentice, too... Well, in any case, I have Featherstorm, Featherdance and possibly Featherlegs, after Rainlegs. I am not sure if Rainlegs would be too impressed with the one, though, but maybe the two would be more acquainted as training goes on?

Display name: Nyte

Character name: Her real name is Abra. Most know her as Six, unless you are trusted by her. Then she shall tell you her true name.

Bio link: WIP but as far as I know Abra will probably be a mutt. Perhaps a blue heeler cross german shepard? Hmm... Off to make an advanced bio

EDIT:: Bio Sorry it is so long. I think I fell in love with another character unexpectedly.

Character Name: Abra. Known as Six to all those who are not trusted.

Character Age: 2 & 1/2 years. Human years.

Gender: Female

Alliance: The Pit

Rank: Dog

Appearance (6 or more sentences): With the mixed-breed bloodlines she was blessed with, Abra shows off her blue heeler looks in german shepherd style. To all those who see her, the ones who do not know any better, she is a sweet, young mutt who was dumped on the streets. To them she is just a taller-than-average blue heeler with long, pointed ears and scary bright blue eyes. To them she has the height of a shepherd yet the looks of a heeler; the blue and white fur, flecked with black. The black ears and hood over her head that travels down her neck and over her shoulders, reaching over her back. The white star on her forhead, slightly off to one side much like the white splotch on her chest, covered by her red bandana. Tan socks cover her legs, half her chest and around her maw, filled with bright white teeth. To them, the outsiders, the ones who are stupid enough not to give her a second look, she is nothing. To the dogs in the Pit she is more german shepherd than anything; her long limbs and snout aiding her in the numerous fights she has been forced to fight -- forced to love, forced to want, forced to welcome -- and her beauty is not to be taken for granted. To the ones who know better, Abra is a force to be reckoned with, mixed breed or not.

Personality (6 or more sentences--these sentences form their own section and do NOT count towards the 4 groups below. Those are additional requirements): Her hardened journey to take hold of her well-earned position within the Pit was a long one no doubt. Abra's fierce determination was what had kept her focused, kept her going even though there was nothing to fight for. The mix blood dog has few friends, and even within her thin group of friends she had divided them into those she trusts with her life and those she can use to get what she wants. This female has a goal, to become the next Champion, to prove to all that the ladies of her kind can be top dog -- particular her, who already has the air of dominance firmly set in place. Abra has no time for those who cannot fight for themselves, and no desire to help those in need, but her pleasant and priveledged history has often interfered with her ferocious and short-tempered attitude -- the tenderness she has towards the weak often reaches Abra unexpectantly, and is more defined when dealing with pups, but she stands strong. Highly intelligent, crafty, sturdy and most definitely not fragile, this mutt is something to see. Ruled only by her master, and then only ruled by abuse and driven on with the need for more, Abra braces herself against the world in hope of a better future. Her devotion and loyalty to her few friends is unmatched at any length; Abra would die for the few dogs that have ever gotten close to her. But, since the last one died a year ago, no other being has ever ventured into such dangerous waters. The affection she once had towards others is long gone, although it is felt often just below the prickly surface. Unlike her blue heeler self, Abra has no patience with any other being. More like her heeler self; she is fiercely independant.
---Likes (at least 3): The idea of freedom. The thought of a loving master. The bond between friends. Victory. Achieving goals no other dog could ever dream of. Taking the life of another. Pups. The thought of a mate or family, although she does not like to think about turning into a soft-hearted mother.
--- Dislikes (at least 3): (Just a note; most of Abra's dislikes counter her likes). Thinking of what she can never have; freedom, love, friendship. Thinking of the past, and looking forward to the future. Being forced to fight other dogs, yet she somehow enjoys the power she gains and feels as she takes a life. The needy. The happy. The care-free.
---Strengths (No MORE than 5): Agile, intelligent, sure-footed and powerful. Her lineage has created the perfect warrior.
---Weaknesses (At least 3): Her master, being reminded of her once-precious past, being alone with her thoughts, being unoccupied. If she ever became the underdog Abra would surely die.

History (8 or more sentences): If it is Abra's history you want, then why not let her tell you herself? Abra, go ahead. Tell them about your past, up to where you are now.

My name is not Abra, first of all. To you, and to everyone, I am Six. The days where I was known as Abra are long gone now; not even my own master remembers them. But I'll start from the beginning.

I was born on the streets, at least, they are all I can remember from when I was a pup. Many nights were spent fighting off the bigger, meaner, tougher dogs and scavenging for what morsels I could find. My father was an alley dog, like I was, and he had met my mother when she ran from her home with the humans. She wanted to know what freedom felt like, and when she got her chance she took it. Now that I think back, I know that she hated it outside her perfectly manicured yard. She hated the uneasiness, the not knowing if you were going to eat that night, or where you were staying, or if you were truly safe. My mother was a pure-bred, and how she had ever mated with my father I'll never know. But they did, and so my brother and I came to be. My dad had left long before we were born, off to the next city where there was more food and less competition, I think, and so my mother was left alone in the streets with two pups. She did the only thing she knew how to do; she ran away, to find her old home, to be brought back in and loved and cared for once more. So, two pups in the streets, alone. You must be thinking, How could they survive? How could two pups, barely half a month old, ever live on the streets of a busy city all by their lonesome? Well, I'll tell you.

My brother and I were as thick as thieves; always together, no matter what. We had learned at a very early age that the first rule of life was kill or be killed. So, with our only means of staying alive forced upon us and our parents gone we decided to provide ourselves with a paradise. We trained, we fought, we scavenged. Eventually the two of us had started to grow into a pair of lean and dangerous mutts that owned the alleys and streets that made up the city. Dogs had to answer to us, now, and there was no one to challenge us. Food was brought to us as an offering of peace, but I had always understood it as an offering that yelled "We'll bring you food if you don't skin us alive". Now, my brother and I had only been running the place for a few months -- we had started out as mere scavengers long before that, luckily we were in the least dangerous part of the city and we often had no competition, so we could grow and scheme all we liked -- when the big white van started to patrol our main block. My block. This didn't worry us one bit, humans often came around the same time every few days to go to 'work' and earn some leafy green stuff called 'money'. We figured this van was some new guy going to his job, but then our offerings started to become fewer until they eventually stopped. Dogs were being swept off the streets, never to be seen again, and neither my brother nor myself could link the disappearances with the van. It almost didn't add up. Then one day, while I was bored to my core waiting for my brother to return from his scavenging trip, I had decided to patrol the few alleys on our main block. I wanted to know why our dogs were going missing, so I looked for myself. Big mistake, let me tell you, wanting to find out where everyone was being taken to. I was taken away myself, to a large cement kennel that was filled with dogs from the streets and the putrid stench of filth.

Many days and many nights did I spend in there, yet again having to assert my dominance in the pack of mutts that stayed in my cell. This was a prison, the pound, and yet again dogs were being taken away daily. I remember watching humans and their yelping children walk down the aisles of kennels eyeing all the dogs behind the cold bars. A child would scream in delight, single out a dog in a cage with her chubby arm raised and point at it. Then a man in a grey suit would take the dog out, put it in a tiny cage, and carry it out the doors that lead to the front desk. I never saw the front area myself until a month later, but one could only assume at that time. Yeah, I was adopted. It took me a long while; only after the tenth dog was taken away did I figure out that if you looked cute and acted nice then you were taken to freedom. At least I thought it was freedom, but anywhere but that prison, anywhere that I could escape and find my brother was heaven to me. And so I was taken away.

At the new house -- or the old house I guess, I'm not there anymore -- I was cooped inside all day for the longest time. The humans who had taken me in, a little girl, her mom and what looked like the mom's mate, who always had an angry scowl on his face now that I think about it, showed me love and affection. The girl had named me Abra, and at first I was sceptical. I had never had a name before, so it was unusual to prick me ears or turn my head whenever 'Abra' was called, but I did it anyway. It made me feel wanted, loved, even. The large female brushed me and bathed me, invited me on the couch and stroked my fur. The little one did the same, too, and I quickly became soft and came to take my new life for granted. I was beginning to love these people, each of them but the male. Some nights he and the female would begin snarling at each other, and I would follow the little girl to her room and comfort her as best as a dog could when water came from her eyes. Other nights there was no yelling, no male voice at all, actually, and the older female would have water streaming from her eyes and embrace me in a hug. I had started to forget about my old life, about my brother, and live in these people's lives. They seemed to be as troubled as I had been, so I decided to comfort them and let them love me. But, as all things do, my perfect life came to an abrupt halt. The male had started to assert his dominance over me and over the senior female; neither of us liked it one bit. I would growl and snarl, fight him off of me and keep him at bay when either of the women were scared and wailing. He had noticed, as much as I had begun to, that I hated him, and he hated me. Still, I never gave up on protecting the females, until they, like the male used to, began to leave most nights. While they were gone the male would beat me; he often cracked a rib or broke one of my bones with a metal rod he always had by his side. When the women came home he would try to hide me, to force them away, and they eventually did leave. For good. And I was left alone with the man who hated me because I proteced the females from him.

You see, that man who attacked me, who still does beat me, is my master. He has become desperate for money, and knowing how fierce I am and how strong I can be when I try to protect myself from him he entered me in the Pit. Here, I fight to earn his green stuff. Here, I fight to assert my dominance in yet another game. Here, I fight for my life each round, always growing stronger and being pushed nowhere near my potential. Not yet. Master still beats me, even when I get him plenty of money each fight, but I know it is for the best. This way I will become stronger, fierce, angrier, and my fight for the top will only come closer. I can almost taste it. What do I plan to do once I'm at the top? Well, I know that I will earn master's trust enough to be let outside by myself. Then, and only then, will I run from him and find my brother. When he is with me, bringing me to the Pit, he can catch me all too easily. I will find my brother one day, but only once I am the dominant. Only once I am the top dog. Only once I am the champion.

My name is Abra, but to those who are not trusted, to everyone, I am Six. I will become the fiercest competitor in the Pit, and I will find my brother. I will punish my master, and I will find those females. I swear it.

Roleplay Sample (Required for first advanced bio): Not my first advanced bio. I think the history was enough xD

Comments (optional): I started writing this bio trying to convince myself not to become attached with yet another character, a character than could possibly die while being forced to fight in the Pit, yet here I am, picturing myself typing at this laptop with her head in my lap. Looks like I've fallen in love again.

UPDATE::[url=http://warriorcatsrpg.com/shop/do,inv/] Proof of Payment[/url]

Thankies Hummingbird ;)

Sorry, meant to say last night that I had finished Abra's bio. I worked really hard on that so you better like it xD

Bright golden eyes trained at Scythe, sizing him up for another attack on Wildberry, Haunt shuddered from the cold. The tom would step in his way as soon as he moved, but there was no need for that. A large streak of lightning that seemed to be a parting gift from the heavens touched Earth with a massive boom and a yowl from the large Skull tom.

Haunt felt no emotion; no fear at how close the lightning had been, no triumph over this lucky victory, no feeling at all. He watched the tom for a moment, wondering if he should check him over and tear his throat out while he was down, just in case, but at the yowls of Wildberry's warriors the dark ginger tom snapped his head around. It was time to leave.

Wildberry had begun to bolt towards the Windclan camp and Haunt was ready to take her down and force her back to check over her tribe. Fleeing was the most dishonorable thing one could do, and the battle-weary tom wanted none of it. She had stopped, however, and so Haunt trotted to her side.

"Are you injured? Do I have to murder anyone?" The tone that he spoke with was serious; if anyone had ever drawn blood from his healer than he would bring her back his head as a souvenier.

Realizing that he was out in the open with her, with many eyes and ears to witness the familiarity between them, the tom began to hiss in frustration. Haunt might as well stay by her side now, he had done a poor job of concealing himself in the battle. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and it was about time that Haunt made himself known in the tortie's tribe.

We need more mutts! xD All the Pit Bulls are scaring me. I wanted to cook up a plot with another male with similar history to Abra's, but I'd prefer another mutt. Closer background, I think.

Also, I'm sure the would, calicosiamese9. But I must agree that they were bred that way; they were used to take down bulls in Spain. As were Bull Mastiffs.

the cast
One captured blue heeler x german shepherd, forced to fight in the Pit. Abra. {Nyte}
One mutt, also forced to fight in the pit. Unknown. {...}
One brother, never ceasing in his search for his lost sister. Tao. {...}

the story
My name is not Abra, first of all. To you, and to everyone, I am Six. The days where I was known as Abra are long gone now; not even my own master remembers them. But I'll start from the beginning.

I was born on the streets, at least, they are all I can remember from when I was a pup. Many nights were spent fighting off the bigger, meaner, tougher dogs and scavenging for what morsels I could find. My father was an alley dog, like I was, and he had met my mother when she ran from her home with the humans. She wanted to know what freedom felt like, and when she got her chance she took it. Now that I think back, I know that she hated it outside her perfectly manicured yard. She hated the uneasiness, the not knowing if you were going to eat that night, or where you were staying, or if you were truly safe. My mother was a pure-bred, and how she had ever mated with my father I'll never know. But they did, and so my brother and I came to be. My dad had left long before we were born, off to the next city where there was more food and less competition, I think, and so my mother was left alone in the streets with two pups. She did the only thing she knew how to do; she ran away, to find her old home, to be brought back in and loved and cared for once more. So, two pups in the streets, alone. You must be thinking, How could they survive? How could two pups, barely half a month old, ever live on the streets of a busy city all by their lonesome? Well, I'll tell you.

My brother and I were as thick as thieves; always together, no matter what. We had learned at a very early age that the first rule of life was kill or be killed. So, with our only means of staying alive forced upon us and our parents gone we decided to provide ourselves with a paradise. We trained, we fought, we scavenged. Eventually the two of us had started to grow into a pair of lean and dangerous mutts that owned the alleys and streets that made up the city. Dogs had to answer to us, now, and there was no one to challenge us. Food was brought to us as an offering of peace, but I had always understood it as an offering that yelled "We'll bring you food if you don't skin us alive". Now, my brother and I had only been running the place for a few months -- we had started out as mere scavengers long before that, luckily we were in the least dangerous part of the city and we often had no competition, so we could grow and scheme all we liked -- when the big white van started to patrol our main block. My block. This didn't worry us one bit, humans often came around the same time every few days to go to 'work' and earn some leafy green stuff called 'money'. We figured this van was some new guy going to his job, but then our offerings started to become fewer until they eventually stopped. Dogs were being swept off the streets, never to be seen again, and neither my brother nor myself could link the disappearances with the van. It almost didn't add up. Then one day, while I was bored to my core waiting for my brother to return from his scavenging trip, I had decided to patrol the few alleys on our main block. I wanted to know why our dogs were going missing, so I looked for myself. Big mistake, let me tell you, wanting to find out where everyone was being taken to. I was taken away myself, to a large cement kennel that was filled with dogs from the streets and the putrid stench of filth.

Many days and many nights did I spend in there, yet again having to assert my dominance in the pack of mutts that stayed in my cell. This was a prison, the pound, and yet again dogs were being taken away daily. I remember watching humans and their yelping children walk down the aisles of kennels eyeing all the dogs behind the cold bars. A child would scream in delight, single out a dog in a cage with her chubby arm raised and point at it. Then a man in a grey suit would take the dog out, put it in a tiny cage, and carry it out the doors that lead to the front desk. I never saw the front area myself until a month later, but one could only assume at that time. Yeah, I was adopted. It took me a long while; only after the tenth dog was taken away did I figure out that if you looked cute and acted nice then you were taken to freedom. At least I thought it was freedom, but anywhere but that prison, anywhere that I could escape and find my brother was heaven to me. And so I was taken away.

At the new house -- or the old house I guess, I'm not there anymore -- I was cooped inside all day for the longest time. The humans who had taken me in, a little girl, her mom and what looked like the mom's mate, who always had an angry scowl on his face now that I think about it, showed me love and affection. The girl had named me Abra, and at first I was sceptical. I had never had a name before, so it was unusual to prick me ears or turn my head whenever 'Abra' was called, but I did it anyway. It made me feel wanted, loved, even. The large female brushed me and bathed me, invited me on the couch and stroked my fur. The little one did the same, too, and I quickly became soft and came to take my new life for granted. I was beginning to love these people, each of them but the male. Some nights he and the female would begin snarling at each other, and I would follow the little girl to her room and comfort her as best as a dog could when water came from her eyes. Other nights there was no yelling, no male voice at all, actually, and the older female would have water streaming from her eyes and embrace me in a hug. I had started to forget about my old life, about my brother, and live in these people's lives. They seemed to be as troubled as I had been, so I decided to comfort them and let them love me. But, as all things do, my perfect life came to an abrupt halt. The male had started to assert his dominance over me and over the senior female; neither of us liked it one bit. I would growl and snarl, fight him off of me and keep him at bay when either of the women were scared and wailing. He had noticed, as much as I had begun to, that I hated him, and he hated me. Still, I never gave up on protecting the females, until they, like the male used to, began to leave most nights. While they were gone the male would beat me; he often cracked a rib or broke one of my bones with a metal rod he always had by his side. When the women came home he would try to hide me, to force them away, and they eventually did leave. For good. And I was left alone with the man who hated me because I proteced the females from him.

You see, that man who attacked me, who still does beat me, is my master. He has become desperate for money, and knowing how fierce I am and how strong I can be when I try to protect myself from him he entered me in the Pit. Here, I fight to earn his green stuff. Here, I fight to assert my dominance in yet another game. Here, I fight for my life each round, always growing stronger and being pushed nowhere near my potential. Not yet. Master still beats me, even when I get him plenty of money each fight, but I know it is for the best. This way I will become stronger, fierce, angrier, and my fight for the top will only come closer. I can almost taste it. What do I plan to do once I'm at the top? Well, I know that I will earn master's trust enough to be let outside by myself. Then, and only then, will I run from him and find my brother. When he is with me, bringing me to the Pit, he can catch me all too easily. I will find my brother one day, but only once I am the dominant. Only once I am the top dog. Only once I am the champion.

My name is Abra, but to those who are not trusted, to everyone, I am Six. I will become the fiercest competitor in the Pit, and I will find my brother. I will punish my master, and I will find those females. I swear it.

the plot

As you can see, Abra has had a difficult past; no doubt will her future be equally as miserable. She has few goals in life, and she expects to fulfill them.

First, she is to gain respect in the ranks of the Pit. Become the Champion, if necessary.
Second, she needs to find her brother. To do this she must first earn her master's trust, and by completing the first step in her tedious mission she will achieve it.
Third, Abra will punish her master for how he treated her, and for what he did to her family. Her brother will help her achieve this.
Fourth, the women must be found and her story must be told. As best as a dog could. But, their are some complications.

During Abra's training in the Pit, perhaps even during a battle that she is about to win but refuses to kill the mutt she is facing, she finds a male. One like her, with a past just as dreaful yet rewarding and a master that took it all away. For the first time in months Abra has started to warm up to another dog, which is a big mistake.

Rule number four in the Pit; do not make any relationships. You might face your bestfriend in a kill-or-be-killed fight. But, Abra daftly ignores rule number four, the most important rule.

So, as the bond between Abra and this male grows deeper and the pull that Abra felt towards him earlier brings her dangerously closer to him, another round of fights break out. Whether or not Abra is champion before this is unknown, but the next battle in the Pit that Abra is forced to fight is against her friend. Her lover.

The two must escape now, somehow, but Abra's fear for her master has been steadily rising as his aggressiveness towards her tips dangerously over the edge. She can kill her potential mate, the one she loves, or have him end the wretched life she has been forced to live, or be killed by her master. But the last option, the most dangerous, is to run away with him. Before the fight has to start.

Of course, the whole while Abra's brother Tao, who received his name after he, too, had been captured and taken to the pound and adopted, escapes and searches for her. Every day he has been thinking about how to be free again, about how to find his beloved little sister and start a new life again. This time in a bigger city, a better one. But he, too, has some complications. Where is Abra?

-> Obviously, you (either the roleplayer of Tao or the unknown male that Abra falls for) can contribute to the plot. This is a basic summary. If you are accepted than you shall have a word in what goes.
the rules
1. This is an advanced plot. I expect an advanced response each post, but I understand if you have writer's block. Having no muse is out of the question; if you are posting than you obviously have some sort of muse.
2. I understand that plenty of arguements could break out between Abra and the male, but I believe it obvious that the two will probably spend the rest of their life together. No ending things with Abra.
3. No love triangles. Abra would either kill the male for betraying her, or the female for taking advantage of her friend. Their aren't supposed to be relationships in the Pit anyway, so this is all secretive.
4. No god-moding, power-play or extensive swearing. I understand that the dogs live in a scummy part of the city, are abused, forced to partake in blood fights and such, but I do not want a cuss coming from your dog's maw every few words. For emphasis only, and then only use them sparingly.
5. Tao is allowed to take a mate while looking for Abra, but I do not want pups from him until they are together again. He is not become some idiot who participates in one-night stands. He has honor, so keep him that way.
6. Remember the site's rules. They apply here.
7. No extensive romance. No one wants to know how dogs "do-it" although scenes of affection are fine.
8. If you are sending in an application for the male role, your male must be a member of the Pit. Go here to sign up, it is easy.

OOC;;
1. I expect respect at all times. Treat me nicely and I shall treat you that way. I am not usually too strict, but for the sake of my beloved Abra I will be.
2. Abide by all site rules.
3. My word is final, although suggestions/questions/comments are more than welcome.
4. You must be literate; proper spelling and grammar, sentences and capitalization, paragraph formation. This is more flexible because my computer does not have spell check, so a rare mistake is acceptable. I am not professional at paragraph formation, but please put your best foot forward.
5. Your character's bio, be it for Tao or the male, must be an advanced bio. It can be an exhisting bio already, but I'd prefer a new one. Especially for Tao.

[font=georgia]the form

To any who are interested, I made a side-plot for Abra, a male, and her brother which must be made. It goes around rule number four, but I thought it would be interesting. Is this alright, Mikki?

Two Birds. One Stone. And a Pit.

Also, I do not see Abra ("Six") on the member's list. Is there a reason for this? Did I miss something? D:

Hey spasm! Thanks for replying so quickly xD

Oh thank you ^^ I appreciate it. I have fallen in love with yet another character and just had to take advantage of my spike in muse.

Eeeeeclipseeee! -glomps-

I am so happy that you are auditioning for Tao! I was going to PM you about him but I wasn't sure how active you were going to be in the next few weeks (basically while I torture people by making them send in apps). I think you're the perfect RPer for Tao, actually. I'll be happy to read his bio, too, but I do have a rough idea of what I want him to be -- I'm interested in everyone else's ideas, however. You're going to make it so hard to judge

OOC:: I had no idea! Why was Eveningsky demoted, anyway? He was such a kind deputy. And that is so like Rainlegs, the teasing and not knowing she is in love xD. I kind of like Featherdance, too, so I'll go with that. Darn you, I need to either find another mentor or age Featherpaw by a random 8 moons and make her a warrior :P . Maybe Featherpaw will turn out to be Featherlegs anyway, because at the ceremony she realizes that she misses her so much? :O Oh then perhaps Eveningsky and Featherpaw will try to find Rainlegs!! xD

BIC::

Curiosity filled the little calico nose to tail, but just as the she-cat was preparing to ask another question about dogs Rainlegs was already on the move again. Keeping up at a brisk trot, only a foxlength or two behind the senior warrior, Featherpaw was bursting with questions and excitement. Was this the beginning of her combat training? Learning how to distinguish friend from foe in the middle of commotion and distracting scents would aid any good warrior in battle. Particularly this one, who was training at the moment.

Flicking her orange and white ears towards the sound of the river, the sweet scent of fresh water and the deeper scent of oily fish swiftly filled the apprentice's senses, distracting her. Her bright blue gaze traveled over to the rushing river, following the few currents and gullies that rose and fell at the surface. Snapping her gaze back to Rainlegs, realizing that she was no longer paying attention, Featherpaw watched her tentatively, not wanting the injured warrior trip or lose her balance and ruin herself more.

OOC:: Fail

Click my siggy for a literate romance between two dogs forced to fight for their lives in the Pit, and a brother searching for his long lost sister. Info, rules, plot and forms inside the thread.

Bump :)