Post by Cloud of Diamonds on Jul 27, 2009 0:47:48 GMT -5
www.dkimages.com/discover/previews/866/955720.JPG
Hiss, Redtail
Gender|
Tom
Age|
30 moons
Rank|
Warrior
Clan|
StreamClan
Beliefs|
Redtail doesn't believe in StarClan, or any other myth for that matter. He disliked the stories about legends-- the ones told by elders-- greatly, and even more now that he's an adult. "Such foolish things are unworthy of my effort and fate; if anything, they shouldn't have been made in the first place: pah! StarClan is a bunch of kit's tales!"
Parents|
Mother: Flint (Rogue) [NP] x Father: Unknown
Siblings|
Older Brother: Snarl (alive, MeadowClanner) [played by Crow]
Other Kin|
None.
Mate|
None yet.
Crush|
None yet.
Kits|
None yet.
Apprentice/Mentor|
None
Appearance|
Redtail is a muscular, Short-haired Red Classic British Tabby with light brown eyes.
His build is bulky, if a little on the stalky side; with strong, powerful legs, wide tan paws adorned with rapier like claws; a muscle tearing muzzle full of burly needle teeth, and a thick, rope-like tail; impossibly long; he prefers it to be kept held high.
Dark orange fur litters Redtail's pelt, decorated with darker orange brownish stripes; swirling on his flanks and sides. Two upside-down "Y's" lay on Redtail's forehead, his nose pink and vibrant with a brown fade just on its ridge. From his eyes to his cheeks are brown lines, like eye-liner gone bad.
Down his brownish orange back is two pale tan lines, turning into swirls the further you move down toward Redtail's belly; which, by the way, is a pure orange-tan color; with broken stripes laying across it-- almost like spots but not quite.
His legs are ginger-tan with brown-orange stripes zig zagging across them; his dark orange tail adorned with three-to-four ginger stripes on its tip.
The most noticeable feature of Redtail is the white splotch on his chest in the shape of what looks like a deformed paw print.
But then again, who knows? It could be a donut doing the rumba.
Personality|
Redtail has a dark look about things. Never one to think positive, Redtail believes that something bad will be more likely to happen than good. "Before it gets better it'll get worse." Redtail believes, too, that you must prepare in advance for whatever (bad) is to come your way; always on his guard, Redtail isn't the greatest tom to sneak up on. He also thinks, deep down inside, there is more evil in a cat than anything else-- so Redtail is not quick to trust; more of a fighter than a compromiser.
Redtail is, in some ways, morbid on a certain level of "WTF"ness. He doesn't mean to be. It just happens. For example, if a cat broke it's leg, Redtail would laugh because he knew it would never walk again. A better example is if a cat died, Redtail would also laugh because he knew it would cease to be living. Pure irony. Redtail also likes to see a cat squirm. Literally. There is just something about a cat squirming that gets to Redtail. Is it because of fear? Pain? Nervousness? The possibilities are endless and Redtail enjoys being kept on his toes; ah, the thrill of guessing!
Thinking outside the box is Redtail's specialty and he just doesn't think outside the box, he thinks from other cat's point of view. He likes to know what they're thinking; what they're feeling. In a way, Redtail is empathic; he can feel what they feel; sad, mad, glad; the list goes on. Although, most of the time Redtail can't do that because of his honor for privacy; poor tom is drived up the wall when this happens.
Though, awkwardly, Redtail honors females above all; in a oddballish way. He'll trip, stumble, and fall over; maybe a face-plant or two. He'll puff up unconsciously around she-cats, make himself bigger than he really is. Sometimes he even walks sideways, or scoots around on his back; even sit and balance on his hind legs, nose in the air; all just to push she-cats away.
For Redtail, it's "The Further the Better" when involving she-cats.
But, I must say.... I can't really blame him.
Skills|
Redtail is, though he doesn't look it; graceful. He could walk like flowing water if he wanted to but he prefers his long, thudding strides instead.
His grace, though, is most used in battle. Redtail dodges like he's trying to dance-- and succeeding most excellently. Dodge; smack! He'll give his enemy a couple of wounds they won't be so soon to forget. Redtail enjoys the thrill of battle-- thrives off it; revels in its adrenalin coursing leisure.
Hunting, though, on the other hand, is quite the opposite. Redtail fails at hunting; his large form unable to stay quiet for long periods of time. Or short, for that matter. He can't stay still; even so much a twitch a stick may break or leaf will crunch beneath him, scaring the prey away.
Tracking, not-so-good either; but he manages to squeeze by. Can you imagine him trying to spy on someone? Good lord-- it would be more likely that hedgehogs flew!
History|
To start things off, Redtail is a former rogue: Hiss.
Hiss lived in a three-cat-family-- considerably small-- along side the river where prey was plentiful and plump; the sun always warm no matter the season.
He only had his mother-- Flint-- and his brother-- Snarl-- his father having abandoned them at the knowledge of Flint's pregnancy. Hiss' two sisters died at birth; he has no memories of them, nor does he recall ever having sisters-- the whole situation is blurry to the tom.
Hiss, though unknown to his brother, loved Snarl more than he should have. Hiss adored Snarl with all his heart-- his love; groveling the very ground Snarl walked on. And more. But those things... are best left unsaid.
But then that happened... the accident.
The death of Snarl.
It was a winter morning....
"I'll race you to the river, Snarl!"
"Hiss, you'll be eating snow if you ask that again."
"You just afraid that you'll lose, Snarl."
That turned the head of the dark brown tabby tom, his brown-orange eyes seeming to glow with malice. "I'm sorry? You want to run that by me again? I could have sworn you just said that I was afraid."
"Maybe, and maybe not. Who knows-- I could have said you were ugly, too!" A orange tabby laughed, racing off through the paw deep snow with Snarl hot on his heels; snarling like his namesake.
Soon there were side by side, paw to paw; nose to nose-- a tie between the two muscular toms as they headed full-speed to wards the frozen river; where they finally stopped, huffing and puffing like panting dogs, sitting flank to flank against each other as they stared out at the frozen art before them.
"Beautiful, ain't it, Hiss?"
"...Yeah." But not as beautiful as you. Were the unspoken words. Hiss tilted his head, grinned, and stood; trotting onto the river's frozen solid surface.
"H-hiss! Be careful!"
Hiss scoffed, showing off a little as he jumped up and down on the ice, nose in the air. "Pah! I'm the definition of car--"
K-k-kra-ACK!
It happened so fast-- so utterly blinding-- Snarl was at his side, then he wasn't, and Hiss found himself tumbling forward; thrown by Snarl onto the bank, laying dazed in the ruffled snow.
A loud yowl snapped Hiss out of his demeanor; and he scrambled to his paws, turning to face the commotion.
Snarl was drowning. Snarl. Was. Drowning.
Hiss could see his large brown form beneath the broken ice; somehow a large piece of it had flipped over onto its other side; trapping the tom in the icy waters.
He screeched, flinging himself at the ice, scratching and clawing and raking at it, trying to get to Snarl; pushing snow out of his way.
Hiss could see him-- struggling along with Hiss, was Snarl, paws scrabbling at the ice in front of him; eyes bulging slightly, and growing wider with every passing second; gagging as he continued to slip farther away from Hiss, who moved along with him at the rivers thankfully slow flow.
"SNARL!" He yowled pitifully, claws gouging the thick ice.
Snarl, closing his eyes; smiled slightly, darkness embracing him as he suddenly sank, deep into the dancing waters. Finally, he disappeared from Hiss's view; who was choking up a storm, wheezing with frustration and near hysteria.
"...Snarl...Snarl....Snarl. No. Just...No!"
Hiss ran; ran from the river, ran from...Snarl.
For the first time, Hiss felt utterly alone-- no! Mother! Mother will fix things! Mother will bring Snarl back!!
Oh, how wrong Hiss was....
He was then accused; accused by his Mother, Flint, for Snarl's fate.
For murder.
Hiss ran from her, too. Ran as fast as he could, crossing the frozen river; to which he hated with a passion; ran for days, or maybe that how long it felt.
Either way, Hiss has nothing now.
Nothing....
Why? WHY?
Hiss layed curled in the snow, moisture springing in his eyes; moaning sadly; paws shielding his shamed face.
If only....
How could have he been so stupid?! Jumping on the ice like that! It was all his fault; Hiss could still hear Flint screaming at him, saying vulgar things: insulting and accusing him.
A paw prodded Hiss; a voice interrupting his thoughts.
"Hey. Get up and mope somewhere else, twinkle-toes." A rough voice grumped, nudging him again.
Moving his tear sleeked paws, Hiss looked at the intruder. It was a large Maine Coon that stood before him, looking peeved.
"Well? What are you waiting for? Get off your hide and leave the premises, before I pluck all your whiskers out and turn you into a porcupine with them!" Clayfang snapped, giving Hiss's tail a harsh nip.
Hiss' paw shot out, giving Clayfang a smacking whallop to the head, claws sheathed. It sent Clayfang reeling, stumbling backward like a drunk. Shaking the daze away, Clayfang attacked; snarling madly.
Snarling....
"Snar-- omph!"
Hiss was tackled to the ground; and two toms writhed together, brawling among the ground. Like his name, Hiss hissed like a vicious animal-- a snake, slashing and raking at Clayfang; the Maine Coon seemed unaffected and pummeled the larger cat, dodging most of the blows.
Suddenly, they rolled; landing in the nearby creek.
Flashes-- images-- came back, throttling Hiss' mind; gaping Snarl, eyes bulging...
Hiss gave a mournful yowl and tried to perish his thoughts by shaking his head; flailing about in the ice-cold water.
Clayfang, startled, waded out of the stream quickly; watching in amazement as the larger tom continued to weep, sobbing hysterically in the waist deep creak.
"Hey-- hey! Calm down, twinkle-toes, I didn't even put a scratch on you..."
"Snarl! Snarl!" Hiss ignored him. "I'm so sorry! I'm Sorry! I didn't mean to-- please..." Hiss hiccuped, breakdown slowly subsiding.
"Forgive me."
Once Hiss calmed down, Clayfang, curiously and out of the blue asked him what it was about, though still on alert for any sign of potential attacks.
Hiss told him, spilling his guts out for the Maine Coon as he told his story-- Snarl and him, Snarl drowning, Flint accusing him, and how he just ran away and ended up here.
"And... now I have nothing. No family, no place to call home; no... I just have nothing, now."
An idea inkled in Clayfang's mind.
"You... could come with me."
"To where?"
"To StreamClan."
Clayfang told him; a tale so mind-bending that Hiss' attention was fully centered on the tom before him, eyes never looking away as Clayfang told him the clan, its ways, and the code: Hiss was interested, to the say the least.
"A...warrior."
"Yes. I am a warrior; Clayfang of StreamClan."
After a long moment of silence, Hiss whispered "It's a deal."
Clayfang lead Hiss to StreamClan, once there, Clayfang and the leader had a long discussion about Hiss, Clayfang telling the whole story-- though keeping Hiss's hysterics out just for the sake of Hiss's pride-- and they reached a decision.
Hiss would stay...
As Redtail, warrior of StreamClan!
As the moons pass, his feelings grow ever more confused...as well as twisted and bitter, especially now that he knows his brother is alive - in another Clan, MeadowClan. He met him at a Gathering...for a moment, he was happy. Then he remembered why he couldn't be.
Redtail doesn't know how this relationship will end, only that it will end in pain.
Name|
Gender|
Tom
Age|
30 moons
Rank|
Warrior
Clan|
StreamClan
Beliefs|
Redtail doesn't believe in StarClan, or any other myth for that matter. He disliked the stories about legends-- the ones told by elders-- greatly, and even more now that he's an adult. "Such foolish things are unworthy of my effort and fate; if anything, they shouldn't have been made in the first place: pah! StarClan is a bunch of kit's tales!"
Parents|
Mother: Flint (Rogue) [NP] x Father: Unknown
Siblings|
Older Brother: Snarl (alive, MeadowClanner) [played by Crow]
Other Kin|
None.
Mate|
None yet.
Crush|
None yet.
Kits|
None yet.
Apprentice/Mentor|
None
Appearance|
Redtail is a muscular, Short-haired Red Classic British Tabby with light brown eyes.
His build is bulky, if a little on the stalky side; with strong, powerful legs, wide tan paws adorned with rapier like claws; a muscle tearing muzzle full of burly needle teeth, and a thick, rope-like tail; impossibly long; he prefers it to be kept held high.
Dark orange fur litters Redtail's pelt, decorated with darker orange brownish stripes; swirling on his flanks and sides. Two upside-down "Y's" lay on Redtail's forehead, his nose pink and vibrant with a brown fade just on its ridge. From his eyes to his cheeks are brown lines, like eye-liner gone bad.
Down his brownish orange back is two pale tan lines, turning into swirls the further you move down toward Redtail's belly; which, by the way, is a pure orange-tan color; with broken stripes laying across it-- almost like spots but not quite.
His legs are ginger-tan with brown-orange stripes zig zagging across them; his dark orange tail adorned with three-to-four ginger stripes on its tip.
The most noticeable feature of Redtail is the white splotch on his chest in the shape of what looks like a deformed paw print.
But then again, who knows? It could be a donut doing the rumba.
Personality|
Redtail has a dark look about things. Never one to think positive, Redtail believes that something bad will be more likely to happen than good. "Before it gets better it'll get worse." Redtail believes, too, that you must prepare in advance for whatever (bad) is to come your way; always on his guard, Redtail isn't the greatest tom to sneak up on. He also thinks, deep down inside, there is more evil in a cat than anything else-- so Redtail is not quick to trust; more of a fighter than a compromiser.
Redtail is, in some ways, morbid on a certain level of "WTF"ness. He doesn't mean to be. It just happens. For example, if a cat broke it's leg, Redtail would laugh because he knew it would never walk again. A better example is if a cat died, Redtail would also laugh because he knew it would cease to be living. Pure irony. Redtail also likes to see a cat squirm. Literally. There is just something about a cat squirming that gets to Redtail. Is it because of fear? Pain? Nervousness? The possibilities are endless and Redtail enjoys being kept on his toes; ah, the thrill of guessing!
Thinking outside the box is Redtail's specialty and he just doesn't think outside the box, he thinks from other cat's point of view. He likes to know what they're thinking; what they're feeling. In a way, Redtail is empathic; he can feel what they feel; sad, mad, glad; the list goes on. Although, most of the time Redtail can't do that because of his honor for privacy; poor tom is drived up the wall when this happens.
Though, awkwardly, Redtail honors females above all; in a oddballish way. He'll trip, stumble, and fall over; maybe a face-plant or two. He'll puff up unconsciously around she-cats, make himself bigger than he really is. Sometimes he even walks sideways, or scoots around on his back; even sit and balance on his hind legs, nose in the air; all just to push she-cats away.
For Redtail, it's "The Further the Better" when involving she-cats.
But, I must say.... I can't really blame him.
Skills|
Redtail is, though he doesn't look it; graceful. He could walk like flowing water if he wanted to but he prefers his long, thudding strides instead.
His grace, though, is most used in battle. Redtail dodges like he's trying to dance-- and succeeding most excellently. Dodge; smack! He'll give his enemy a couple of wounds they won't be so soon to forget. Redtail enjoys the thrill of battle-- thrives off it; revels in its adrenalin coursing leisure.
Hunting, though, on the other hand, is quite the opposite. Redtail fails at hunting; his large form unable to stay quiet for long periods of time. Or short, for that matter. He can't stay still; even so much a twitch a stick may break or leaf will crunch beneath him, scaring the prey away.
Tracking, not-so-good either; but he manages to squeeze by. Can you imagine him trying to spy on someone? Good lord-- it would be more likely that hedgehogs flew!
History|
To start things off, Redtail is a former rogue: Hiss.
Hiss lived in a three-cat-family-- considerably small-- along side the river where prey was plentiful and plump; the sun always warm no matter the season.
He only had his mother-- Flint-- and his brother-- Snarl-- his father having abandoned them at the knowledge of Flint's pregnancy. Hiss' two sisters died at birth; he has no memories of them, nor does he recall ever having sisters-- the whole situation is blurry to the tom.
Hiss, though unknown to his brother, loved Snarl more than he should have. Hiss adored Snarl with all his heart-- his love; groveling the very ground Snarl walked on. And more. But those things... are best left unsaid.
But then that happened... the accident.
The death of Snarl.
It was a winter morning....
"I'll race you to the river, Snarl!"
"Hiss, you'll be eating snow if you ask that again."
"You just afraid that you'll lose, Snarl."
That turned the head of the dark brown tabby tom, his brown-orange eyes seeming to glow with malice. "I'm sorry? You want to run that by me again? I could have sworn you just said that I was afraid."
"Maybe, and maybe not. Who knows-- I could have said you were ugly, too!" A orange tabby laughed, racing off through the paw deep snow with Snarl hot on his heels; snarling like his namesake.
Soon there were side by side, paw to paw; nose to nose-- a tie between the two muscular toms as they headed full-speed to wards the frozen river; where they finally stopped, huffing and puffing like panting dogs, sitting flank to flank against each other as they stared out at the frozen art before them.
"Beautiful, ain't it, Hiss?"
"...Yeah." But not as beautiful as you. Were the unspoken words. Hiss tilted his head, grinned, and stood; trotting onto the river's frozen solid surface.
"H-hiss! Be careful!"
Hiss scoffed, showing off a little as he jumped up and down on the ice, nose in the air. "Pah! I'm the definition of car--"
K-k-kra-ACK!
It happened so fast-- so utterly blinding-- Snarl was at his side, then he wasn't, and Hiss found himself tumbling forward; thrown by Snarl onto the bank, laying dazed in the ruffled snow.
A loud yowl snapped Hiss out of his demeanor; and he scrambled to his paws, turning to face the commotion.
Snarl was drowning. Snarl. Was. Drowning.
Hiss could see his large brown form beneath the broken ice; somehow a large piece of it had flipped over onto its other side; trapping the tom in the icy waters.
He screeched, flinging himself at the ice, scratching and clawing and raking at it, trying to get to Snarl; pushing snow out of his way.
Hiss could see him-- struggling along with Hiss, was Snarl, paws scrabbling at the ice in front of him; eyes bulging slightly, and growing wider with every passing second; gagging as he continued to slip farther away from Hiss, who moved along with him at the rivers thankfully slow flow.
"SNARL!" He yowled pitifully, claws gouging the thick ice.
Snarl, closing his eyes; smiled slightly, darkness embracing him as he suddenly sank, deep into the dancing waters. Finally, he disappeared from Hiss's view; who was choking up a storm, wheezing with frustration and near hysteria.
"...Snarl...Snarl....Snarl. No. Just...No!"
Hiss ran; ran from the river, ran from...Snarl.
For the first time, Hiss felt utterly alone-- no! Mother! Mother will fix things! Mother will bring Snarl back!!
Oh, how wrong Hiss was....
He was then accused; accused by his Mother, Flint, for Snarl's fate.
For murder.
Hiss ran from her, too. Ran as fast as he could, crossing the frozen river; to which he hated with a passion; ran for days, or maybe that how long it felt.
Either way, Hiss has nothing now.
Nothing....
Why? WHY?
Hiss layed curled in the snow, moisture springing in his eyes; moaning sadly; paws shielding his shamed face.
If only....
How could have he been so stupid?! Jumping on the ice like that! It was all his fault; Hiss could still hear Flint screaming at him, saying vulgar things: insulting and accusing him.
A paw prodded Hiss; a voice interrupting his thoughts.
"Hey. Get up and mope somewhere else, twinkle-toes." A rough voice grumped, nudging him again.
Moving his tear sleeked paws, Hiss looked at the intruder. It was a large Maine Coon that stood before him, looking peeved.
"Well? What are you waiting for? Get off your hide and leave the premises, before I pluck all your whiskers out and turn you into a porcupine with them!" Clayfang snapped, giving Hiss's tail a harsh nip.
Hiss' paw shot out, giving Clayfang a smacking whallop to the head, claws sheathed. It sent Clayfang reeling, stumbling backward like a drunk. Shaking the daze away, Clayfang attacked; snarling madly.
Snarling....
"Snar-- omph!"
Hiss was tackled to the ground; and two toms writhed together, brawling among the ground. Like his name, Hiss hissed like a vicious animal-- a snake, slashing and raking at Clayfang; the Maine Coon seemed unaffected and pummeled the larger cat, dodging most of the blows.
Suddenly, they rolled; landing in the nearby creek.
Flashes-- images-- came back, throttling Hiss' mind; gaping Snarl, eyes bulging...
Hiss gave a mournful yowl and tried to perish his thoughts by shaking his head; flailing about in the ice-cold water.
Clayfang, startled, waded out of the stream quickly; watching in amazement as the larger tom continued to weep, sobbing hysterically in the waist deep creak.
"Hey-- hey! Calm down, twinkle-toes, I didn't even put a scratch on you..."
"Snarl! Snarl!" Hiss ignored him. "I'm so sorry! I'm Sorry! I didn't mean to-- please..." Hiss hiccuped, breakdown slowly subsiding.
"Forgive me."
Once Hiss calmed down, Clayfang, curiously and out of the blue asked him what it was about, though still on alert for any sign of potential attacks.
Hiss told him, spilling his guts out for the Maine Coon as he told his story-- Snarl and him, Snarl drowning, Flint accusing him, and how he just ran away and ended up here.
"And... now I have nothing. No family, no place to call home; no... I just have nothing, now."
An idea inkled in Clayfang's mind.
"You... could come with me."
"To where?"
"To StreamClan."
Clayfang told him; a tale so mind-bending that Hiss' attention was fully centered on the tom before him, eyes never looking away as Clayfang told him the clan, its ways, and the code: Hiss was interested, to the say the least.
"A...warrior."
"Yes. I am a warrior; Clayfang of StreamClan."
After a long moment of silence, Hiss whispered "It's a deal."
Clayfang lead Hiss to StreamClan, once there, Clayfang and the leader had a long discussion about Hiss, Clayfang telling the whole story-- though keeping Hiss's hysterics out just for the sake of Hiss's pride-- and they reached a decision.
Hiss would stay...
As Redtail, warrior of StreamClan!
As the moons pass, his feelings grow ever more confused...as well as twisted and bitter, especially now that he knows his brother is alive - in another Clan, MeadowClan. He met him at a Gathering...for a moment, he was happy. Then he remembered why he couldn't be.
Redtail doesn't know how this relationship will end, only that it will end in pain.
We have a cbox again and we're opening the place up as a closed, members only rp