Post by Rookfall on Jun 29, 2012 19:16:55 GMT -5
{: ROOKFALL :}
Past names: Rookkit, Rookpaw
Future names: -x-
Age: Forty-five moons
Parents: Rushwhisper; mother, Nightbrook; father
Kin: -x-
Mate: -x-
Kits: -x-
Clan: RiverClan
Rank: Warrior
Abilities: Very clever, good at sensing the moods of those around him, fishing, swimming, stealth
Disabilities: Overconfident, unwilling to take criticism, cold, uncertain sanity
Main Attack Move: Teeth grip
Basic Description: A sleek, deep black-and-gray spotted tabby tom with pale yellow eyes.
Description: His pelt is short, though thick and sleek, kept that way through diligent grooming, and its glossiness is not wholly due to his ministrations. He is a dark pearly gray in hue, and the round black marks on his coat can sometimes seem to blend in. The effect is dappled, as though the gray portions are faint bits of sunlight falling through the leaves of a tree. The spots cover mainly the sides and top of his body and tail, with smaller touches appearing here and there along his outer legs and some on his face. His underside is a pale, creamy tan color, and it fades out at his chest and the interior sides of his upper legs. His eyes are yellow, though so light they can appear completely colorless when looked at just right. The edges are darker, almost orange, and show up the most in near-darkness. His facial expression is often seen as appearing hungry or sharp, as his faintly slanted eyes and sharp, short muzzle tend to give him a cold appearance. His ears are large and pointed, and curiously delicate, with the veins in them standing out vividly against the skin.
The tom's limbs are long and strong, and he might be tall, but he usually walks in a prowling manner, his legs kept at an angle, so it is difficult to really tell. His paws are broad and flat, with thick claws, and, if excellent for treading water, they can seem a bit too large for his limbs. His tail is just as lengthy as his legs and stays low to the ground, the tip twitching every so often. It betrays very little of his feelings- his ears do that for him, and the way his eyes can flash with emotion when he does not say anything. He is not adept at body language, though he can read it, and his facial features are more expressive than the rest of him combined. Despite his aloof manner and stalking posture, he keeps his slender, lengthy neck arched and proud, and he stares coolly down his nose at whoever is talking to him. His general build is lithe, and his muscles arranged compactly on his frame. He does not immediately strike one as any particular breed, rather, an amalgam of types that settled into a slender, sly, feral-looking form, and deceptively strong.
Personality: Rookfall's heart is a vivid one. He is extremely loyal, willing to die for the Code and his Clan at a moment's notice, and he will go to any lengths to uphold their honor and safety. The wellbeing of his fellow Clan-members is continually at the forefront of his mind, and he takes pride in seeing dedicated cats succeed and grow in their abilities. He is not overly affectionate and even cold, but cares deeply about the ones he calls friends, if he might not show it. However, his sense of caring, limited as it is, extends only to his Clan, and he views anyone he believes might be threatening its safety with a dislike bordering on hatred- even if they are within RiverClan, he may not consider them his true kin, especially those born out of the Clan. He loathes the other Clans, constantly paranoid they will attack his beloved RiverClan at any moment, and any patrols that look even slightly suspicious will earn a sharp tounge-lashing from him. He would give them much more, but his fervent attachment to the Code prevents him from further, more cruel measures.
Unfortunately, his dedication becomes an awful mix when combined with his overwhelming arrogance. He is unable to take criticism without anger, and believes firmly that he knows what is best for the Clan. Because of this, he will not hesitate to ignore or even deliberately countermand orders if he thinks it would be more beneficial. He borders on hypocritical in his use of the Code; he will enforce it letter by letter to others, but can act wildly out of its bounds when he sees it as being better for the Clan. Though undeniably clever, with the true extent of his brilliance unknown, he is by no means always right, and his disobedience has on more than one occasion proved dangerous for him and others. Though under superior command, he considers himself equal to all, perhaps even above, and will rarely take the cold, snide tone out of his voice for anyone. His tense ways and paranoia raise questions as to his sanity, but there has never yet been any rock-solid determinating factor one way or the other.
In his relations to "loyal" RiverClan members, he can be almost cordial, if not familiar or open. He particularly enjoys interacting or even simply watching the kits, as they are the future of his Clan and it is doubtful that he values anything more. Around them, he is unusually gentle and sometimes even playful, but rarely when an older cat can see him. In spite of that, he has no kits of his own, and it is doubtful he ever will. His cool attitude often prevents him from making truly close bonds, and he would consider strong emotional attachments or a mate detrimental to his goal of striving to be the greatest warrior and, possibly, the greatest leader, he can be.
History: Rookfall was born one misty summer evening, and, upon his arrival, appeared a plain uniform black like his father, Nightbrook. This prompted the 'Rook' section of his name; dark and glossy as the bird of his namesake. His mother, Rushwhisper, had carried several litters before him, but they either ended as stillborn or unborn. It was, therefore, a great joy to his parents when they had their first and only kit. He was spoiled from an early age, and looked up to his parents, both of whom he considered great and loyal warriors. His entitlement meant that, even as he grew older, he was unused to not getting his way immediately. Instead of backing down and learning from his mistakes, he grew continually more stubborn and would insist in any method that he was right.
This continued even when he became an apprentice, and quite possibly grew worse. He advanced in the physical aspect of his training swiftly, but it still took him nearly twice as long as the others to become a warrior. This was due to his sheer insolence, bull-headedness, and constant insubordination, as if he had no regard for the orders of his elders whatsoever. It was only after a dangerous incidence in which he and another apprentice nearly drowned due to his actions that he overcame a small bit of his behavior. As his parents were getting on in their moons even when he was born, they had become elders towards the middle of his apprenticeship and died near the end of it. He honored their memory as much as he could and it then became his ambition to be just as dedicated as they had been. He held them in such high esteem that a part of him, secreted away and never spoken of, believed that his father should have been leader, and he felt as though both he and his Clan-born parents had been slighted in what they were due.
This idea still festered quietly once he became a warrior, and it was a long while before it was quashed, or rather, diminished- traces of it still remain, and contribute to his nature to this day. It was as a young warrior that he began to see the other Clans and outsiders with real venom. He became more aware of the other Clans' actions, and his determination to protect his own led to suspicion that grew with every adverse comment directed towards RiverClan, every untoward gesture that might be construed as aggressive. Loners and rogues were even worse. They had no Code to live by, no Clan to hold their own with. He believed they did not have the bravery nor the heart to live a warrior's life, and that they were all cowards who would do anything to save their own skin and lived only for their own glory, and that, above all, they were weak. His bitterness grew in magnitude, only heightened by each passing day. What few friends he had managed to make as an apprentice became distant, either due to his increased reclusiveness or attitude. With little company, and lonely, he began to pay more attention to the Clan's kits, and found them more to his liking than most adult cats he associated with. They believed fully in their Clan, as though nothing could break it, and the idea endeared them to him. What little capacity for affection he had left went solely to them. He may have been briefly infatuated with a she-cat, but he soon forgot her for his single-minded obsession with the Clan, and so did not ever mention it. After several moons, his fascination with the kits vanished as well, though he still saw them as crucial to RiverClan. He continues to strive for greatness and the health of his Clan, and refuses to let anything hinder him.
Other accounts: None
Past names: Rookkit, Rookpaw
Future names: -x-
Age: Forty-five moons
Parents: Rushwhisper; mother, Nightbrook; father
Kin: -x-
Mate: -x-
Kits: -x-
Clan: RiverClan
Rank: Warrior
Abilities: Very clever, good at sensing the moods of those around him, fishing, swimming, stealth
Disabilities: Overconfident, unwilling to take criticism, cold, uncertain sanity
Main Attack Move: Teeth grip
Basic Description: A sleek, deep black-and-gray spotted tabby tom with pale yellow eyes.
Description: His pelt is short, though thick and sleek, kept that way through diligent grooming, and its glossiness is not wholly due to his ministrations. He is a dark pearly gray in hue, and the round black marks on his coat can sometimes seem to blend in. The effect is dappled, as though the gray portions are faint bits of sunlight falling through the leaves of a tree. The spots cover mainly the sides and top of his body and tail, with smaller touches appearing here and there along his outer legs and some on his face. His underside is a pale, creamy tan color, and it fades out at his chest and the interior sides of his upper legs. His eyes are yellow, though so light they can appear completely colorless when looked at just right. The edges are darker, almost orange, and show up the most in near-darkness. His facial expression is often seen as appearing hungry or sharp, as his faintly slanted eyes and sharp, short muzzle tend to give him a cold appearance. His ears are large and pointed, and curiously delicate, with the veins in them standing out vividly against the skin.
The tom's limbs are long and strong, and he might be tall, but he usually walks in a prowling manner, his legs kept at an angle, so it is difficult to really tell. His paws are broad and flat, with thick claws, and, if excellent for treading water, they can seem a bit too large for his limbs. His tail is just as lengthy as his legs and stays low to the ground, the tip twitching every so often. It betrays very little of his feelings- his ears do that for him, and the way his eyes can flash with emotion when he does not say anything. He is not adept at body language, though he can read it, and his facial features are more expressive than the rest of him combined. Despite his aloof manner and stalking posture, he keeps his slender, lengthy neck arched and proud, and he stares coolly down his nose at whoever is talking to him. His general build is lithe, and his muscles arranged compactly on his frame. He does not immediately strike one as any particular breed, rather, an amalgam of types that settled into a slender, sly, feral-looking form, and deceptively strong.
Personality: Rookfall's heart is a vivid one. He is extremely loyal, willing to die for the Code and his Clan at a moment's notice, and he will go to any lengths to uphold their honor and safety. The wellbeing of his fellow Clan-members is continually at the forefront of his mind, and he takes pride in seeing dedicated cats succeed and grow in their abilities. He is not overly affectionate and even cold, but cares deeply about the ones he calls friends, if he might not show it. However, his sense of caring, limited as it is, extends only to his Clan, and he views anyone he believes might be threatening its safety with a dislike bordering on hatred- even if they are within RiverClan, he may not consider them his true kin, especially those born out of the Clan. He loathes the other Clans, constantly paranoid they will attack his beloved RiverClan at any moment, and any patrols that look even slightly suspicious will earn a sharp tounge-lashing from him. He would give them much more, but his fervent attachment to the Code prevents him from further, more cruel measures.
Unfortunately, his dedication becomes an awful mix when combined with his overwhelming arrogance. He is unable to take criticism without anger, and believes firmly that he knows what is best for the Clan. Because of this, he will not hesitate to ignore or even deliberately countermand orders if he thinks it would be more beneficial. He borders on hypocritical in his use of the Code; he will enforce it letter by letter to others, but can act wildly out of its bounds when he sees it as being better for the Clan. Though undeniably clever, with the true extent of his brilliance unknown, he is by no means always right, and his disobedience has on more than one occasion proved dangerous for him and others. Though under superior command, he considers himself equal to all, perhaps even above, and will rarely take the cold, snide tone out of his voice for anyone. His tense ways and paranoia raise questions as to his sanity, but there has never yet been any rock-solid determinating factor one way or the other.
In his relations to "loyal" RiverClan members, he can be almost cordial, if not familiar or open. He particularly enjoys interacting or even simply watching the kits, as they are the future of his Clan and it is doubtful that he values anything more. Around them, he is unusually gentle and sometimes even playful, but rarely when an older cat can see him. In spite of that, he has no kits of his own, and it is doubtful he ever will. His cool attitude often prevents him from making truly close bonds, and he would consider strong emotional attachments or a mate detrimental to his goal of striving to be the greatest warrior and, possibly, the greatest leader, he can be.
History: Rookfall was born one misty summer evening, and, upon his arrival, appeared a plain uniform black like his father, Nightbrook. This prompted the 'Rook' section of his name; dark and glossy as the bird of his namesake. His mother, Rushwhisper, had carried several litters before him, but they either ended as stillborn or unborn. It was, therefore, a great joy to his parents when they had their first and only kit. He was spoiled from an early age, and looked up to his parents, both of whom he considered great and loyal warriors. His entitlement meant that, even as he grew older, he was unused to not getting his way immediately. Instead of backing down and learning from his mistakes, he grew continually more stubborn and would insist in any method that he was right.
This continued even when he became an apprentice, and quite possibly grew worse. He advanced in the physical aspect of his training swiftly, but it still took him nearly twice as long as the others to become a warrior. This was due to his sheer insolence, bull-headedness, and constant insubordination, as if he had no regard for the orders of his elders whatsoever. It was only after a dangerous incidence in which he and another apprentice nearly drowned due to his actions that he overcame a small bit of his behavior. As his parents were getting on in their moons even when he was born, they had become elders towards the middle of his apprenticeship and died near the end of it. He honored their memory as much as he could and it then became his ambition to be just as dedicated as they had been. He held them in such high esteem that a part of him, secreted away and never spoken of, believed that his father should have been leader, and he felt as though both he and his Clan-born parents had been slighted in what they were due.
This idea still festered quietly once he became a warrior, and it was a long while before it was quashed, or rather, diminished- traces of it still remain, and contribute to his nature to this day. It was as a young warrior that he began to see the other Clans and outsiders with real venom. He became more aware of the other Clans' actions, and his determination to protect his own led to suspicion that grew with every adverse comment directed towards RiverClan, every untoward gesture that might be construed as aggressive. Loners and rogues were even worse. They had no Code to live by, no Clan to hold their own with. He believed they did not have the bravery nor the heart to live a warrior's life, and that they were all cowards who would do anything to save their own skin and lived only for their own glory, and that, above all, they were weak. His bitterness grew in magnitude, only heightened by each passing day. What few friends he had managed to make as an apprentice became distant, either due to his increased reclusiveness or attitude. With little company, and lonely, he began to pay more attention to the Clan's kits, and found them more to his liking than most adult cats he associated with. They believed fully in their Clan, as though nothing could break it, and the idea endeared them to him. What little capacity for affection he had left went solely to them. He may have been briefly infatuated with a she-cat, but he soon forgot her for his single-minded obsession with the Clan, and so did not ever mention it. After several moons, his fascination with the kits vanished as well, though he still saw them as crucial to RiverClan. He continues to strive for greatness and the health of his Clan, and refuses to let anything hinder him.
Other accounts: None
