Post by ..::Mist::.. on Dec 30, 2007 14:47:44 GMT -5
You ask me my name, it is:
Mistpelt
I am:
47 moons old
Am faithful only to:
RainClan
I am and always shall be:
a tom
I am proud to be:
warrior
A line of me:
Small grey tom with slightly longer belly fur and grey eyes.
See how I act:
Mistpelt is more on the serious side, he doesn't like it when others fool around, especially when there are things to get done, which is all the time for him. There is always something to be done in his eyes, something to be begun or something to be redone but better. He is very industrious, always has been, and doesn't like to sit still. His paws are always itching for something to do, anything. He is brave and adventurous, loving a challenge and never backing down from a fight. He is fearsome in battle, throwing himself into the thickest part and fighting with all of his heart and might, no matter how hopelessly outnumbered they might be. He has a stubborn streak, making hard, if not impossible, to change his mind once he has decided on something. He takes his time making decisions, calculating every possible thing before deciding on something. He listens to others opinions but always goes with what he thinks is best for him and his clan in the end.
He isn't the most patient cat, getting irritated with cats when they don't keep up with his quick mind, for he is very clever, out-thinking and out-talking any cat easily. He is a born debater, swaying cats his way quickly and usually without much trouble. His voice holds a tone that demands to be listened to, though it is not harsh in any way. His whole air really is commanding, but he rules gently. He governs his cat hoping that they would obey him out of love and not from fear. He doesn't like to be questioned and if he tells you to do something it is advisable that you do it. Though he wants his followers to obey him out of love, after asking someone nicely to do something if they don't do it he won't hesitate to give them something to urge them to do it.
See how I look:
Mistpelt is a medium shade of grey all over. It isn't dark but it definitely is not light, just right in the middle. His pelt is of a medium length also, being a little longer on his belly and chest. On his grey pelt there are crisscrosses of slightly darker grey. His stripes are much like a tiger's, though not nearly as prominent. They are so slight of a darker grey that many cats don't notice it unless they really look well, and even then they sometimes think that their eyes are tricking them. Nonetheless they are there, much to the pride of Mistpelt. Yes, he is rather proud of his unusual pelt, though not so much as to be annoying.
Mistpelt's build is small, making one think that he would be easy to overpower in a fight, but if you should be unfortunate enough to fight him you would quickly change your mind. Mistpelt is very very compact, every inch of him being hardened muscle. His legs are a little on the short side, making him a little slower at running than some cats, but they are stocky and stable. His paws are wide and thick, matching the rest of his powerful body. His tail is a little on the short side, though it is not too noticably shorter than most cats. In short, Mistpelt's body, though small, is just as strong, if not stronger, than most cats.
Mistpelt's eyes are a steely grey, with the slightest bit of green flaring out from the pupil. The grey gets darker as it gets farther away from the pupil, giving his eyes a strange look. His eyes are a little larger than cats' eyes usually are. Every one of his whiskers are the same grey as most of his body, as are his claws and nose. He has a very full set of whiskers that bristle out very far. All in all, he is a rather handsome cat.
Hear the story that I hold:
Mistkit was born in RainClan to two loyal and great warriors. His parents were both very proud of him, for even though he was smaller than the others from the start, they could see that he had good leadership skills. He was always organizing groups for games or for sneaking away. He loved to lead little expeditions out into the woods, catching some prey if he could along the way. Of course his and the other kits' absences were noticed and though they talked to him about it he rarely got into big trouble, for he had the biggest most pleading eyes a kit could have. His parents had begun to worry for him, for they believed that if one didn't follow rules when they were a kit then they wouldn't when they grew up either. Well, Mistkit never heeded his parents admonishments and continued to lead groups into the woods. As he got older he began not doing it as much and soon he rarely did so, though he still planned games and mock battles in front of the nursery.
When he became an apprentice he was very excited to start his training, he became even more excited when he found that his mentor was Heatherstar, former leader of RainClan. At the beginning of his apprenticeship his mentor found that he had an annoying habit of learning things quickly, but forgetting them the very next moment. He did very well once he conquered that problem, having a naturally quick mind from the start. He easily worked his way through his lessons and did well when he was on hunting duty. He loved being able to do something for his clan, provide for them, it was how he was built, staying still just didn't appeal to him. The only bad thing about this period was that since he had more to do, he didn't like sitting still as much which meant he didn't like to clean him pelt. He thought it unnescessary and tiresome, and surely there were more important things to do?! Well, his mentor had to admonish him many times to 'sit down and wash your pelt', and finally his mentor pulled out the secret weapon, he said that if Mistpaw didn't wash himself he wouldn't be allowed to train. Of course Mistpaw didn't believe his mentor at first but after having to miss a training he quickly learned that washing his pelt was very important.
Becoming a warrior was the proudest day of Mistpelt's life ever. The sky was clear but the air was crisp as he stood silently gaurding the camp that night. That night the first snow fell, bright and beautiful. Mistpelt didn't mind the coolness of the air, or the chilling wetness that soaked into his fluffed up pelt, he was warm on the inside with pride so large that it couldn't be concealed if he had tried to conceal it. He sat his vigil with a beaming face, tail curled tightly around his paws. In the morning he was so stiff he could barely move when he was sent to the warriors den to rest. But he was a warrior, and that was all that mattered to him now. He was a warrior for many moons, proving himself to be a great asset more than once, his fierceness in battle was well known. He became a mentor and was quite proud to be one, training Sootpaw well.
An example of me:
Mistpelt slipped through the forest, crawling under a bush and stirring up the blanket of leaves beneath him. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the bitter smell that he could almost taste. He pulled himself the rest of the way out from under the bush and shook himself, glancing over his shoulder and sneezing a little. I hate that smell, I don't know why I decided to take that short cut.
He put an ear back and then jumped to attention as he heard the trill of a bird high over him, glancing up and saw the little creature sitting happily in a high branch. Mistpelt grinned grimly to himself as he began climbing the tree, his claws digging deeply into the trunk as he lifted his small body up higher and higher. He carefully pulled himself onto the same branch that the bird was on. He crouched and carefully brought himself nearer to his quarry, whiskers twitching in excitement. At the last minute the bird spotted him and took flight. Mistpelt leaped at it and easily caught it. The small bird went limp as he bit down on it but then he realized something, he was in the air with nothing to catch onto to stop his desent.
He could nearly hear his mentor's "I told you so." as he let out a startled yowl and crashed into the icy waters below. He stuck his ears back and bit stubbornly onto his prey, refusing to let it go, even as he realized something else, the current here was much stronger than he had thought. He tensed immediately and of course he was plunged under the water. His quick mind put the things together and he forced his muscles to go limp so and he easily returned to the surface, spluttering but alive. He smiled to himself, though he was nearly frozen by this time. After a little while he felt his paws hit the pebbly bottom of the stream he breathed a sigh of relief and headed back to camp after giving himself a good shake to get most of the water out of his pelt.
As he neared the camp his keen ears caught the sound of fighting cats, and then his nostrils twitched as the metallic scent of blood hit the roof of his mouth. He dropped his sparrow and dodged forward. As he crashed into the clearing he saw strange cats fighting his clanmates! He let out a growl that was more like a roar, and threw himself at the nearest cat. The cat had clearly not expected him to be as strong as he was and Mistpelt raked his claws against its belly, leaving bloody furrows as his claws left the cat's skin. The cat screeched and dashed away as Mistpelt let him up. Mistpelt looked up and charged toward another cat who was fighting his mother, who was a small cat like Mistpelt, but without the muscle. He attacked him and found that this one was a well seasoned warrior. They rolled over and over, hissing and spitting and trying to get an advantage against the other. Mistpelt shot his head forward after receiving a nasty scratch on his shoulder and clamped down on the other's face. He let out a loud howl as he felt pain lance up his tongue as it was bit down on. It hurt yes, but he didn't let go, instead biting down harder and harder, know that the other cat would begin having trouble breathing sooner or later. Eventually what Mistpelt had predicted came true, and the cat let go of his tongue and ripped himself away, charging away from the camp at full speed. Mistpelt shook his spinning head and stumbled as he felt himself grow dizzy. As his head cleared he glanced around and saw the attacking cats disperse. He sat down with a plop, panting hard. They had won this battle.
Those I know and knew:
Heatherstar~former mentor{dead-war}
Sootpaw~former apprentice
Falconcall~father
Willowwhisp~mother
Mistpelt
I am:
47 moons old
Am faithful only to:
RainClan
I am and always shall be:
a tom
I am proud to be:
warrior
A line of me:
Small grey tom with slightly longer belly fur and grey eyes.
See how I act:
Mistpelt is more on the serious side, he doesn't like it when others fool around, especially when there are things to get done, which is all the time for him. There is always something to be done in his eyes, something to be begun or something to be redone but better. He is very industrious, always has been, and doesn't like to sit still. His paws are always itching for something to do, anything. He is brave and adventurous, loving a challenge and never backing down from a fight. He is fearsome in battle, throwing himself into the thickest part and fighting with all of his heart and might, no matter how hopelessly outnumbered they might be. He has a stubborn streak, making hard, if not impossible, to change his mind once he has decided on something. He takes his time making decisions, calculating every possible thing before deciding on something. He listens to others opinions but always goes with what he thinks is best for him and his clan in the end.
He isn't the most patient cat, getting irritated with cats when they don't keep up with his quick mind, for he is very clever, out-thinking and out-talking any cat easily. He is a born debater, swaying cats his way quickly and usually without much trouble. His voice holds a tone that demands to be listened to, though it is not harsh in any way. His whole air really is commanding, but he rules gently. He governs his cat hoping that they would obey him out of love and not from fear. He doesn't like to be questioned and if he tells you to do something it is advisable that you do it. Though he wants his followers to obey him out of love, after asking someone nicely to do something if they don't do it he won't hesitate to give them something to urge them to do it.
See how I look:
Mistpelt is a medium shade of grey all over. It isn't dark but it definitely is not light, just right in the middle. His pelt is of a medium length also, being a little longer on his belly and chest. On his grey pelt there are crisscrosses of slightly darker grey. His stripes are much like a tiger's, though not nearly as prominent. They are so slight of a darker grey that many cats don't notice it unless they really look well, and even then they sometimes think that their eyes are tricking them. Nonetheless they are there, much to the pride of Mistpelt. Yes, he is rather proud of his unusual pelt, though not so much as to be annoying.
Mistpelt's build is small, making one think that he would be easy to overpower in a fight, but if you should be unfortunate enough to fight him you would quickly change your mind. Mistpelt is very very compact, every inch of him being hardened muscle. His legs are a little on the short side, making him a little slower at running than some cats, but they are stocky and stable. His paws are wide and thick, matching the rest of his powerful body. His tail is a little on the short side, though it is not too noticably shorter than most cats. In short, Mistpelt's body, though small, is just as strong, if not stronger, than most cats.
Mistpelt's eyes are a steely grey, with the slightest bit of green flaring out from the pupil. The grey gets darker as it gets farther away from the pupil, giving his eyes a strange look. His eyes are a little larger than cats' eyes usually are. Every one of his whiskers are the same grey as most of his body, as are his claws and nose. He has a very full set of whiskers that bristle out very far. All in all, he is a rather handsome cat.
Hear the story that I hold:
Mistkit was born in RainClan to two loyal and great warriors. His parents were both very proud of him, for even though he was smaller than the others from the start, they could see that he had good leadership skills. He was always organizing groups for games or for sneaking away. He loved to lead little expeditions out into the woods, catching some prey if he could along the way. Of course his and the other kits' absences were noticed and though they talked to him about it he rarely got into big trouble, for he had the biggest most pleading eyes a kit could have. His parents had begun to worry for him, for they believed that if one didn't follow rules when they were a kit then they wouldn't when they grew up either. Well, Mistkit never heeded his parents admonishments and continued to lead groups into the woods. As he got older he began not doing it as much and soon he rarely did so, though he still planned games and mock battles in front of the nursery.
When he became an apprentice he was very excited to start his training, he became even more excited when he found that his mentor was Heatherstar, former leader of RainClan. At the beginning of his apprenticeship his mentor found that he had an annoying habit of learning things quickly, but forgetting them the very next moment. He did very well once he conquered that problem, having a naturally quick mind from the start. He easily worked his way through his lessons and did well when he was on hunting duty. He loved being able to do something for his clan, provide for them, it was how he was built, staying still just didn't appeal to him. The only bad thing about this period was that since he had more to do, he didn't like sitting still as much which meant he didn't like to clean him pelt. He thought it unnescessary and tiresome, and surely there were more important things to do?! Well, his mentor had to admonish him many times to 'sit down and wash your pelt', and finally his mentor pulled out the secret weapon, he said that if Mistpaw didn't wash himself he wouldn't be allowed to train. Of course Mistpaw didn't believe his mentor at first but after having to miss a training he quickly learned that washing his pelt was very important.
Becoming a warrior was the proudest day of Mistpelt's life ever. The sky was clear but the air was crisp as he stood silently gaurding the camp that night. That night the first snow fell, bright and beautiful. Mistpelt didn't mind the coolness of the air, or the chilling wetness that soaked into his fluffed up pelt, he was warm on the inside with pride so large that it couldn't be concealed if he had tried to conceal it. He sat his vigil with a beaming face, tail curled tightly around his paws. In the morning he was so stiff he could barely move when he was sent to the warriors den to rest. But he was a warrior, and that was all that mattered to him now. He was a warrior for many moons, proving himself to be a great asset more than once, his fierceness in battle was well known. He became a mentor and was quite proud to be one, training Sootpaw well.
An example of me:
Mistpelt slipped through the forest, crawling under a bush and stirring up the blanket of leaves beneath him. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the bitter smell that he could almost taste. He pulled himself the rest of the way out from under the bush and shook himself, glancing over his shoulder and sneezing a little. I hate that smell, I don't know why I decided to take that short cut.
He put an ear back and then jumped to attention as he heard the trill of a bird high over him, glancing up and saw the little creature sitting happily in a high branch. Mistpelt grinned grimly to himself as he began climbing the tree, his claws digging deeply into the trunk as he lifted his small body up higher and higher. He carefully pulled himself onto the same branch that the bird was on. He crouched and carefully brought himself nearer to his quarry, whiskers twitching in excitement. At the last minute the bird spotted him and took flight. Mistpelt leaped at it and easily caught it. The small bird went limp as he bit down on it but then he realized something, he was in the air with nothing to catch onto to stop his desent.
He could nearly hear his mentor's "I told you so." as he let out a startled yowl and crashed into the icy waters below. He stuck his ears back and bit stubbornly onto his prey, refusing to let it go, even as he realized something else, the current here was much stronger than he had thought. He tensed immediately and of course he was plunged under the water. His quick mind put the things together and he forced his muscles to go limp so and he easily returned to the surface, spluttering but alive. He smiled to himself, though he was nearly frozen by this time. After a little while he felt his paws hit the pebbly bottom of the stream he breathed a sigh of relief and headed back to camp after giving himself a good shake to get most of the water out of his pelt.
As he neared the camp his keen ears caught the sound of fighting cats, and then his nostrils twitched as the metallic scent of blood hit the roof of his mouth. He dropped his sparrow and dodged forward. As he crashed into the clearing he saw strange cats fighting his clanmates! He let out a growl that was more like a roar, and threw himself at the nearest cat. The cat had clearly not expected him to be as strong as he was and Mistpelt raked his claws against its belly, leaving bloody furrows as his claws left the cat's skin. The cat screeched and dashed away as Mistpelt let him up. Mistpelt looked up and charged toward another cat who was fighting his mother, who was a small cat like Mistpelt, but without the muscle. He attacked him and found that this one was a well seasoned warrior. They rolled over and over, hissing and spitting and trying to get an advantage against the other. Mistpelt shot his head forward after receiving a nasty scratch on his shoulder and clamped down on the other's face. He let out a loud howl as he felt pain lance up his tongue as it was bit down on. It hurt yes, but he didn't let go, instead biting down harder and harder, know that the other cat would begin having trouble breathing sooner or later. Eventually what Mistpelt had predicted came true, and the cat let go of his tongue and ripped himself away, charging away from the camp at full speed. Mistpelt shook his spinning head and stumbled as he felt himself grow dizzy. As his head cleared he glanced around and saw the attacking cats disperse. He sat down with a plop, panting hard. They had won this battle.
Those I know and knew:
Heatherstar~former mentor{dead-war}
Sootpaw~former apprentice
Falconcall~father
Willowwhisp~mother
