Birchpaw __ FrostClan

[lee]

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[atrb=width,600,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][bg=200815] Why do you shun me for who I am? FOR I AM Birchpaw of the great FrostClan Age Eight (and a half) moons. Gender Female Rank Apprentice How can I hide in the shadows of the unknown? WHEN MY PELT IS spotted and my eyes are blue Scars Birchpaw is lucky to not have any, yet. A few temporary ones have been picked up throughout the moons, but they’ve all healed already, without leaving a trace. Appearance Long, thick fur covers Birchpaw from nose to tail tip, most of it a rusty brown color. The tip of her tail, a “collar” around her neck, and three rather large spots on her back are all of a black color. Her ears are rather large, in comparison to the rest of her, which tends to be run of the mill-an average body size, average looking face and the trademark longer nails of FrostClan. Besides her tail, they tend to be the most expressive part of her, used to convey a wealth of information. Tufts of fur sprout from the base of her ears, as wells as on her cheeks, giving her a rather fluffy appearance, as if the long fur weren’t enough. Her eyes are a soft blue color with a tendency to flash towards any new movement, even if focusing on something else. Although of average size she is rather lean, made more of muscle meant for speed and running than muscle meant for brute force. Why do you judge me for what I’ll become? JUST BECAUSE I’M solitary AND persistent Personality Birchpaw is always polite. It may seem strange for someone at her age to be polite, but she always is. At least, she is always using polite language even if she is subtly insulting someone. This can be confusing, if you happen to be the one being insulted, but considering she prefers to either be by herself or with close friends-which pretty much limits her to a few members of her Clan-she probably doesn’t even bother to talk to you anyways. Just because she doesn’t like socializing doesn’t mean she’s shy, however. She just tends to think of other people as wasting her time, when she could be doing something productive. She has a drive to become better at everything she does, and with her persistent nature she tends to work at it until she does. Of course, she never truly satisfies herself-once she’s increased her performance, she wants to raise it yet higher. Towards her friends, Birchpaw can put on a more relaxed appearance, taking a break from striving to improve herself in order to just be friends for a while. She even has a playful streak and likes to get into mischief as much as the next apprentice. Preferences Although she isn’t bad at it, Birchpaw hates swimming. She doesn’t like the feel of wet fur and prefers to do whatever fishing she has to without actually getting more than a paw or two into the water. She also truly enjoys puzzles and will often try to encourage friends to try and stump her with one-she’ll work at it until she figures it out. Secret Ambitions In the back of her mind she has a very lofty goal-to be one of the most famous cats in all the Clans for her skills. Not just one skill, but as many of them as she can master. Strengths/Weaknesses Her persistence is both a strength and a weakness. While it drives her to do better and not give up, she can get so caught up in something that she neglects other things-like friends or even eating. Her quick reflexes and agility make her a good fighter-what she lacks in brute force she makes up for in speed and cunning. She is rather impatient when it comes to hunting though and is little more than mediocre at it. How am I punished for what my kin has done? EVEN IF MY PARENTS ARE Whitenose AND Wrensong Family Born to Whitenose and Wrensong, she had two sisters, although one died of a cold sickness at just four weeks of age. Her remaining sister, Dirtpaw and herself aren’t very close and rarely speak. Event that Lead to being a Warrior She isn’t one yet. History There really isn’t much to say about Birchpaw. Her sister, Patchkit died when they were four weeks old, leaving only Birchpaw and her other sister, Dirtpaw. Although Dirtpaw got along great with nearly everyong, Birchpaw preferred to seclude herself or spend time with their father, Wrensong, who instilled a drive to get better in his young daughter. They spent many hours challenging each other with puzzles, although to be truthful, Wrensong indulged his daughter by pretending to be stumped by her puzzles. Her relationship with her mother was not as close, however odd that was. Not that Birchpaw didn’t like her mother-she did. She just felt closer to her father, although he was close to being considered an elder. When she was four moons old he failed to return from the river one day, the sad news being passed on that he had drowned when a sudden rush of water from melting snow suddenly appeared. It was around that time that she first started to spend any length of time around another kit, one who became an apprentice at very nearly the same time. Birchpaw made only one friend her own age, that of Weedpaw. Of course, at the time she met him they were only kits, not yet apprentices, but the friendly kit managed to keep her from staying upset about her father’s death for too long. He’s still her only real friend, and the only she truly confides anything at all in. Sample RP “One, two, trick’s on you~!” The taunting chant bounced off of the canyon walls, the pounded dirt slick with the rain that fell down from the edges of the cliffs, the sky a dark and foreboding ceiling to the crevasse and the denizens of it. “One, two, trick’s on you~!” It was a raspy voice with little inflection or tune, repeating the same phrase like clockwork. Feather found it strangely comforting. She had been forced out of the skies by the thunderstorm, black feathers slick with water and beady black eyes blinded by the streams of rain. She had been lucky to find this ledge in the canyon, protected from the worst of the rain by a stony outcropping just above. The gryphon currently shared it with an overlarge crow who seemed content to sit there and repeat the same thing over and over. Flicking her tufted tail in time with the crow, she watched him and bobbed her head along with him. She couldn’t voice the words with him-she had long been mute, thanks to that imbecile of a “healer” and his supposed cure for gryphons with sore throats. At least she’d gotten a nice emerald out of it, one of the largest in her collection of jewels, safely hidden in her cave on the ocean coast. Her companion suddenly stopped, looking at her with a nearly sinister gaze, before taking off in a flurry of feathers. Confused she stood and looked out as the last of the echoing chant faded away, replaced by a churning, roaring noise. Turning her head, Feather was frozen at the sight of a wall of water coming for her, before struggling to lift her heavy body into the treacherous air of a canyon in the midst of a storm… You call me by the name I’ve lied I meet in secret with those who’ve died Though life is not’ but treachery This life is all the life in me

[Juniper]

Accepted!