Posts by Starkwhite.

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    Name: Jetstream
    Gender: Tom
    Clan: BloodClan
    Rank: Third Tier and Warlord
    Apprentice: Calypso
    Difficulty: Extreme


    ~ I am the shadow on the moon at night, filling your dreams to the brim with fright!
    [img width=470 height=350]http://i48.tinypic.com/1z6utsn.jpg[/img]
    Picture by ѕнα✝тєя ~


    (Thank you for the muse explosion! lol )


    Such a pathethic scrap, to think his devil is greater than yours. The serpentine voice of the chilling blue eyed, etherial Necromancersoul hissed through his mind, his faded black frame shimmering tremulously at the edge of Jetstream's hellish view before, in a sudden flash of obsidian, the dark tom slammed into him. Yet there was no solid foce, no resulting stagger. The ghostly frame melted into the monstrous tom like ice, sending sudden tremors of cold shooting ice flying through the nightmare's veins. The hellfire that flickered so lively within the Warlord's gaze took upon a new, more calm light of sadistic features, it's fierce dance of gold dying to a bright glow of ember.


    In one smooth moment with the enemy locked in his sights, the prodigious, undead like feline braced his murky paws into the sand, curling ebony razors in in towards the earth to sink through grit and drag across rough stone. With an explosion of ripples rushing through his broad, heavilly muscled form, the chosen immortal spun himself away with a vicious snarl not quite his own. Just as the other tom landed behind him, attempting to strike out, Jetstream's paw slammed into his forelegs to knock them aside with a terrible force (I don't know if you can parry or if it's considered powerplaying as well, so if your not aloud to block like that, just act like I aimed to do it.).


    With leverage now on the suddenly reeling, mangled tom's side, he dove down towards the recruit with a screech that mimicked the horrific, tortured scream of a risen Lich, teeth snapping for the other tom's head, incisors gleaming a pale ivory that mirrored the bleached steed of Death. His claws lashed out towards whatever flesh was closer, whatever flesh he could rip quicker. He needed the feeling of torn flesh on his pads, sliding between his toes. He needed the fresh release of life fluids and tantalizing, metallic scent that flowed forth with the plasma. This tom would offer him just that, and he would harvest his joy from the ravaged corpse of this recruit dead or alive.


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    Name: Jetstream
    Gender: Tom
    Clan: BloodClan
    Rank: Third Tier and Warlord
    Apprentice: Calypso
    Difficulty: Extreme


    ~ I am the shadow on the moon at night, filling your dreams to the brim with fright!
    [img width=470 height=350]http://i48.tinypic.com/1z6utsn.jpg[/img]
    Picture by ѕнα✝тєя ~


    (I never need to plan, I can just picture counterattacks as I read the post. :-* )


    Wonderful, wonderful, sadistic glee! Jetstream's own claws ripped flesh with the ease of a cutlass, their razor sharp, hardened black tips sheering through muscle to carve deep furrows into the brown tabby that spurted a dark crimson into the air to rain down upon the warm, dried sand which, in it's long thirst was quick to soak it up, leaving behind dried stains. His twisted, scarred jaws, strings of saliva swinging from glinting fangs, snapped on empty air with a savage quality, the spray of foul breath and spit exploding in response from the nightmare's great maw.


    With eyes that mimicked gates to a fiery plane of unescapable oblivion, the feline tore after the other tom, leaping up just as he launched himself from the wall to sail overhead. The Warlord was quick to react, stretching a forepaw into the air with his blood and flesh covered claws toward the exposed stomach of Demonicpaw, but even if there was damage, the recruit hit the sand with nigh a falter, charging the beserk Satan with jaws agape, eager to plunge his teeth into the flesh of the Third Tier. But the tom would have none of that.


    In one smooth sweep of his body, the beast sought to use the other's momentum against him, ducking his head from the open mouth in an attempt to slam into Demonicpaw's chest and send him staggering back. His head came up again, potentially crashing into the tender, very breakable chin of his opponent before continuing into a rear, his forepaws following suite with the effort to drag their weapons up the foolish cat's stomach, chest, and potentially the throat, where the vicious Jetstream would then attempt to slam into the much smaller tom with the goal of throwing him to the ground, ripe for the pinning.


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    So, I'm bored, and art makes me happy. Turns out, Jetstream makes me happy too. And you know what makes me even happier? Scarryness! I'm looking for someone to draw a really, really savage picture of Jetstream, and whoever does the best will get an fk reward! :D And even if you don't win, I'll still use your pic as a siggie or avatar at one point. If it's really scary, I'll probably put it in my template as well. ^^ The fk prize will be more then 1000, I promise, but I won't set it because I want to see the quality of the art first. 8)
    In case you don't know, Jetstream is both a Third Tier and the Warlord of BloodClan.



    Gender: Male
    Appearance:



    ~Image by Doodlestar.


    General Apperance~
    Forged by midnight this creature lurks, it's paws molded by clouds, it's eyes conjured from the torturous flames of hell. What is this creature, that heralds dread as it walks by, prodigious and satanic? It's pronounced, sharp sature seems to give it the appearance of a canine, the beast certainly has the size, but for some reason, the demon was born amongst cats. So could it be that this supposed feline be the son of Satan, sent to Earth to release chaos and destruction upon the minors? If so, he certainly has the means to do that, not that he hasn't already. Jet black, razor sharp claws hammered upon Death's anvil gleam dully as they slip from their protective sheathes, ivory gleaming teeth sharpened upon the moon's grindstone ready to carve through flesh. The creature is by no means pretty, with the ragged, horrific scars that lace around his jet black and murky white pelt. One shredded ear, another torn. And of course, that famous matching black collar that is constantly pampered by the imperious nightmare, decorated with the bones of long dead foes. How could this monster possibly be considered a feline?


    Major Scars~


    His ears are tattered and shredded, and his nose has been smashed up against his face and ripped horribly, so that the cartilage and upturned tissue shows. His jaw is twisted around, and on one side, a clump of rotting gums hangs out, carved away by an opponent's claws. A ragged tear races down the top of his shoulder to his forepaw, and another that runs across his back.


    Personality: Why would anyone want to delve into Jetstream's terrifying personality? His mind isn't a good place to be, and only those not wishing to preserve their sanity would dare to explore. This crazed monster is uncapable of most emotions, other than hate and anger. He wouldn't know how to react toward love as he certainly didn't have a friendly nature. In addition to not being capable of feeling monst emotions, Jetstream is also impervious to pain, which could be considered a weakness. How could one know their limits if they can't feel the pain? Poor Jetstream only does what he can. He doesn't do it because he's told to, despite his undying loyalty to BloodClan, and he doesn't do it because he wants to. He simply does it because he can. Murder? Jetstream shows no pity, no guilt. To him, it isn't a crime, it's simply a way of life, and his way of life involves bloody claws and torn flesh. He doesn't respect many others, if fact, he never has felt full respect, only mutual respect. The few cats that have earned that mutual respect are Burnout, Biggles, and Dustsky. Burnout is at the top of that list simply because they are practically the same. They thought the same, atleast. Like Burnout, Jetstream displays constant vigilance and is rarily ever suprised by anything.


    Pose: I really don't care, but I would like him to look very scary and vicious, covered in blood with a sadistic smile and fiery eyes. I would also like it for flames to be rising up behind him, but it doesn't matter. His claws are massive and should be unsheathed, they are also black, and his teeth should be showing to. I would also enjoy if you could add an etheral, shadow cat rising up behind him as if it were smoke, with glacier blue eyes glowing. The background and extra cat is not required, however.


    Accessories (optional): Blood red spiked collar (Not required) and covered with mega scars!

    "Oooh! I like that one!" The shrill tone of Jokerpaw split the hot air, the medium frame prancing into the dark chamber with a silly smile plastered across his forever scarred face. Behind him was a devil, in pursuit of a spawn, hellish eyes contracting a murderous glaze as they set about the family, annoyance sparking within the flames as the cinnamon apprentice of Dustsky skipped his way over to Partykit with a sadistic giggle,poking at him with a black claw that's spurred another short laugh. Jetstream didn't play favorites, all though Noctune pleased him most. It seemed Jokerpaw, however, had already picked out a victim for his ploys. "Good that we have another litter to count on." The Warlord purred roughly to his mate.

    "Oooh! I like that one!" The shrill tone of Jokerpaw split the hot air, the medium frame prancing into the dark chamber with a silly smile plastered across his forever scarred face. Behind him was a devil, in pursuit of a spawn, hellish eyes contracting a murderous glaze as they set about the family, annoyance sparking within the flames as the cinnamon apprentice of Dustsky skipped his way over to Partykit with a sadistic giggle,poking at him with a black claw that's spurred another short laugh. Jetstream didn't play favorites, all though Noctune pleased him most. It seemed Jokerpaw, however, had already picked out a victim for his ploys. "Good that we have another litter to count on." The Warlord purred roughly to his mate.

    As the Warlord swayed back, the claws hardly broke flesh, not that it would have mattered. The spider thing was weird, but Jetstream showed no proof he believed so. As the tom lept for his throat, he sent out a massive paw in an effort to slam it into his side and throw him away with a forceful hit.

    The living storm cloud in his massive appearance was quick to arrive, his eyes gleaming with an unusual malicious light as the muscled son of Burnout made his approach, rumbling a low growl of hello as he skipped down some rock's to land at his mentor's side. "Why the river?" He questioned curiously, his voice like a powerful drum as it resonated from his broad chest.

    "Feisty! I like feisty..." Jokerpaw gave a shrill pure of glee as the kit clung to his forepaw. He gave the limb a casual shake and laughed with delight at his newfound favorite. In a show of twisted affection, the tom used his paw to stroke the other cat along her back with a twitch of his lithe tail. "I'm going to hug you and squeeze you, and cuddle you, and love you, and in the end I'll cut you, but every bee needs a bird to-..wait, that's not right! Damn!" Jokerpaw hissed in annoyance as he forgot the phrase that would have more climatically ended his sadistic rant of...very screwed up things. His amber eyes tracked every movement of his much younger sister, soon to be brother, and Dustsky's apprentice released his frusteration in another, malicious purr.

    (Ugh, muse fail, im going to suck for a while...)


    Jetstream swayed, the claws passing about to rip through fur and roughly graze flesh. With an intensive speed, his obsidian head whipped around to snap at the limb as he attempted to get a good grip and sling the tom into the rock walls of the auditorium.

    "We're supposed to know how to swim?" Crookedpaw snorted. It was a fact, he had grown immensely in size and and now dwarfed the similarly aged Jokerpaw by several inches, his heavilly built frame enough to take down plenty of the younger warriors. His black claws curled into the cobbly bank of the rushing body of water, hellish eyes staring out above the waves and trying to determine just how he wasn't going to drown.

    "Excuse me? This is BloodClan, we fight to live and live to fight. We're savage and punish the weak with pain and death! If you don't like a good fight, then your no true BloodClanner. We're evil, we're cruel, and we're vicious. Why then, are so many not? Does that make you wannabes or kittypets?" The Warlord spat at the wolf. He didn't care how large she was, even a wolf couldn't hide from the devil. So what if he might be a little outmatched? Turning to the crowd, the hellcat raised his voice. "If you don't like fights, if you don't like death, if you can accept that we don't believe everyone is equal because you have to prove it, and if you don't like being abused or cruelty, and if your simply not strong enough to take it, then LEAVE!"