Post by Acorn on Aug 30, 2008 19:38:45 GMT 9
Name: Acorn.
Gender: Female
Age: Fourteen.
Books:
Gender: Female
Age: Fourteen.
Books:
Nearly all of them, I think. xD [all of the first and second series, but I've been lazier with the third..]RP Sample:
Bright flames licked over the large forest, and pale sunlight cascaded down a small hill. Occasionally, a cat or two would jump out of the hot hellhole, raging and screaming, only to fall back in, fur burned and bones charred, life forced out of their body. The inferno burned everything in it's path, from the smallest mouse to the largest two-leg mansion, and no living thing stood a chance against it's all-consuming, voracious appetite. Said fire would only come to a stop after many red-claden two-leg men came running around, with long plastic hoses spraying thick white foam, and even then there would be no survivors, no trace that something living had ever walked that land.Other:
Winterflower smiled, soaking the in the heat, exposing his sharp but small teeth. There was only one way to cleanse this place, where tyrants reigned and crimson blood was spilled more often then water. Everything had to be destroyed, scraped, molded into something new, where peace and prosperity would be long-lived; perhaps eternal. Pushing back his shoulder and cracking a few bones, the aged warrior flicked his tail, copper eyes focused on a thorny bush a few meters away, out of which a small, young tom was meant to emerge.
The cat knew his days were numbered and he was in his senior years; and he didn't suppose breathing in so much smoke from the fire was a good idea either. But it was fine, because Winterflower had found a disciple, a successor, and had trained him right under VineClan's nose. He was a rogue, and had come with the two-legs in their machines from over the vast sea. And so, Winterflower had named him Seasalt, and taught him the ancient ways of the clan, and slowly, very slowly, the ship-rogue's skills began to expand, until he was worthy of his warrior title, and ready to help whenever he was needed. The senior warrior was rather fond of the young, idealistic tom, and his lack of morals only made way for more opportunities of power, and darker methods of training.
Imagining in his mind's eye the small, inky-black tom with gentle golden eyes leading a clan was a full-filling thought, Winterflower decided. But there were important matters to attend to before that wish was granted, the tom thought, brown eyes staring coldly as a she-cat's skeletal figure ran around the forest, white fur consumed by angry red ribbons. Inside, he only felt a small twinge of regret. This what had to be done, or else the same old hate and bloodshed that characterized VineClan and EveClan for so long would return, and what good would this massacre have done then?
A slice of tanned fur landed on the still green grass as the tom made his way towards the fire, thinly-veiled excitement on his face. The heat was growing unbearable now, and bright orange and red blinded his vision, dancing figures intertwined in a few moments of hot passion, before separating to destroy anything that came before them. That was the power of this inferno, and this was the cleansing ritual. With every labored breath, Winterflower heard the mewlings of lost kits and desperate mothers, but it ceased to matter. Soon, the old tom realized that he had reached the tip of the flames.
Cautiously, he took a step into the blinding light, feeling the sweat and heat and passion take away all of his sins, his emotions, and his desires. All Winterflower could see were the warm arms of death, coming in close and grabbing him, dragging him into what must be hell itself, and quietly, Winterflower could see the grey trees and the ashy ground, and he could feel the fire melt away his fur and his bones, until he only a pile of bones, covered in grey and bleached by the sun. Seasalt might mourn, but there was always a greedy glint in his eye; Winterclan would have risen with him as the leader anyway.
That night, there was a full moon, but no one noticed it because flames lit up the sky, giving the illusion of day time, and erasing the night sky.
There might have been a full moon, but there were no stars.
None.