Stormcrow » bleed it out

[hysteria]

Name » Stormcrow
Age » 37 moons
Gender » tom
Alignment » neutral/dark
Clan » gorgeclan
Rank » warrior (deputy?)
Picture » unedited

Appearance
» Unusually thin, Stormcrow has the appearance of starvation. The tom has a natural slim and lanky build that easily deceives the eye to believing he doesn't posess much strength. Contrary to perception, he simply lacks any fat and has an abundance of tough wiry muscle clinging to his skeletal system. His size makes it easier to be quick and agile in a fight, along with being an excellent runner. Not surprisingly, Stormcrow has a very high metabolism that requires him to eat massive amounts of food without ever gaining much weight. Cats who've never seen him eat are often surprised at how much fresh-kill he can consume, especially considering his looks. Storm's coat often hangs his body like its a size too big, exposing his ribs, spine, and pelvic bone quite easily. Short fur does little to hide such bonyness, his even exagerating the effect. While most cats who have naturally oily fur look sleek and soft, Stormcrow manages to look scruffy. His mother once remarked that it looked as if the oil from his skin managed to grease the roots, but never reach the tips, and therefore spike odd tufts in strange arrangements. No matter how long he or any other cat spends grooming him, he looks perpetuably ruffled and ragged. Of course, the missing bit of his right ear and the crooked end of his once-broken tail don't help.

Born a very dark cloudy blue-grey, it wasn't a surprise that his mother named him "Stormkit". Natuarally, she didn't take too kindly to it when his adult fur grew in as a deep black. Dark as the shadows during the night, its only in bright sunshine that his fur seems to be bleached to a very dark blue-grey. White skin hides beneath the hair and pads on his paws are actually a bright pink. His black nose and lips easily blend into his fur, although his whiskers are an impeccable white. Dark evergreen eyes can appear both brooding and clam, seeming to dim when his brow furrows in rage and brightening to a mossy color upon being lit by the sun.

Stormcrow has a unique way of moving that usually defies most expectations. Long and lanky, his walk seems smooth and elegant. As if he were floating over the ground, each step sends his shoulder blades and pelvis bone to stab at the air. Its really his trot that seems to raise eyebrows. As if no one ever taught him how to run like a proper cat, Storm has an odd loping gait similar to a wolf's. Although though most view it as a weak point, in actuality it allows him to run longer than most. That is, if his constantly growling belly doesn't stop him. Mentioned before, Storm is an excellent sprinter, with his run being as unique as his 'trot'. While his long legs are a benefit in this area, it's really the cheetah like looseness of his lengthy spine that lets him run so well.

Short Description » A scruffy black tom with evergreen eyes.

Personality
» Stormcrow has always been the human definition of "catty". Even as a kit, he was always eager to be not only the best, but also independant and above needing help. Not even today would he ever admit to depending upon the clan or requiring help in any way. Although he's not outwardly conceited or arrogant, Storm often thinks of himself as better than most warriors. During apprenticeship, it became obvious that Storm was reluctant to bend beneath other's authority and often challenged those he felt were weak. Even today, he's known for having a sharp tongue that many cringe away from. Very few can take his relentless banter and casually veiled insults. Couple this with his moody and sometimes touchy behaviour and its a miricle anyone likes him at all. But most do have to respect him. Almost to the point of obsession, he follows clan law and pushes himself and those around him to be the best they can be for the clan. If this means scaring the snot out of a kit or giving a good smack to another warrior, then so be it. Then again, such things are also rather fun to him. Perhaps because his own mother was rather handy with her claws when Stormcrow and his siblings were being annoying.

History
» Ravenflight and Frostbite were a unique couple. They never expressed true love for each other, and rarely did they act fondly toward one another. In fact, through their apprenticeship, they kept a running rivalry that included obscene insults and the occasional scuffle. It was more than surprising when the clan learned they were mates. Unfortunantly, Frostbite died on the thunderpath several weeks before his son was born. Ravenflight gave birth to Stormcrow and his siblings with the help of the clan's medicine cat and named them herself. Storm lived a normal kithood, although expressed unusual ambition from the beginning. Upon becoming an apprentice he trained exceptionally hard and did his best. He was given a traditional naming ceremony, but not before his mother and brother (Ironpaw) died in a fight. When the clans broke up, Stormcrow kept to himself and lived alone. During his time of solitude, Storm caught a small grey female invading "his territory" and he badly maimed her. After ward, he found out that it was his once-dear sister Squirreltail and that she had tracked him down to tell him of the clans reforming. Although guilty over the murder, Storm left her almost dead corpse and traveled to his former clan, once called Mountainclan, now renamed as 'Gorgeclan'. Since then, he has attempted to live in peace among his fellow clan mates.
(I know, boring history)

Lineage
Mother » Ravenflight (deceased)
Father » Frostbite (deceased)
Littermates » Spiderlegs(?), Ironpaw(d), Squirreltail(d)

RP Sample
» Silence soaked the camp, dripping into every nook and crevice and flooding the dens of sleeping cats. It was the normal quiet of night, flawless and full until a mouse disturbed the grass, or a cricket sang its song, or the wind danced with the trees. You could hear everything during the night, because noise seemed amplified by the stillness and hush of the darkness. Everyone was sleeping, even Stormcrow. Until someone accidently kicked him in the gut that is. Instinct forced his claws out and every muscled tensed before he remembered he was in Gorgeclan's camp and that he slept next to a warrior prone to vivid dreams. Hopefully the kitty-pet was learning how to hunt in his sleep, since the idiot knew snot about it in reality. The only reason the tom had been moved up was because of the clan's desperate need for warriors. Not that he'd been told it or ever would. No, it was better to keep the stupid, ignorant. Made life so much easier in the long run.

» Keeping the night's silence in tact, Stormcrow rose from his nest in the warrior den and stalked from its confines. Bright starlight drifted down from the heavens, bringing out the light blue tone to his black fur as it skittered across his scruffy coat. His sensitive black nose sniffed the air for a moment as he gave his dark evergreen eyes time to adjust. Naturally, there would be barely any food in the fresh-kill pile. Just a stiff little mouse that couldn't fill his little toe. That wouldn't have happened back when this was Mountainclan. Or was he building up the heros of his past again? Making the old warriors seem better than they'd really been was becoming his weak point. Could he only remember the good points of the past life, or had the clans back then really been better? It was hard to tell. His memory was so messed up, contorted and shifted by the present state he wasn't sure what had been real and what had been dreamed. Had he really killed Squirreltail or had that been some terrible nightmare? Surely he hadn't done such a gruesome thing to his own sister. They'd grown up together, learned the lessons of being a warrior together. He would have recognized her before getting close enough to maul her. Wouldn't he? A shiver raced down his moonlit spine as his head flicked off the dark thoughts. It didn't matter now. She wasn't here and he was. And that damned fool had kicked alive his constantly hungry stomach.

» Taking one last wistful look around the camp, and stretching his back and limbs free of sleep, Stormcrow loped away from his clan's headquarters. Dawn patrol would be waking soon and since he was awake, he might as well catch something for them to eat before they left for their rounds. Beside that, he was starving and if he waited much longer his rumbling stomach would alert the prey before he got within killing distance. With carefully silent steps and whispy breathes he made his way toward Hawk Forest. Although his favorite prey would not be above ground for a few hours, he wanted to test a different hunting style. Upon reaching the ancient grove of trees, Stormcrow slowed and slipped into a walk, lips parted as he tried to catch the best array of scents. Rabbit was still fresh from earlier, and with his head occasionally dipping to the ground, Stormcrow followed the scent. It was a confusing trail, moving in idiotic patterns and doubling back on itself a hundred different times. Twenty minutes he followed the scent until at last he got lucky and stumbled upon a hole in the ground. His brain told him it was stupid to try, but his growling stomach demanded food. So, cautiously, Storm widened the entrance a bit, and then began wriggling down the rabbit hole. Actually it wasn't nearly as hard as he'd thought it be. Perhaps for a larger cat it'd be difficult, but Stormcrow was barely skin and bones, easily as small around as a rabbit, if not skinnier.

» The scent of rabbit was so thick amongst the rich smell of earth that Stormcrow gave up on using his nose. Slowly he wriggled down into the earth, poking his head into empty chambers until he finally got lucky. Well, perhaps not lucky so much unlucky. A female stared at him from the back of the dirt den, five or more little rabbits cowering behind her. Slowly Storm dragged himself into the cavelet, eyeing her the whole time. Having minimal room to move, but more than when he was in the tunnel, the tom shifted forward and bared his fangs, hissing. At once the rabbit lept at him in a dual attempt to bite him and squeeze past to sweet freedom. More prepaired than she thought, Storm used his right forepaw to swipe at her face while diving to bite her neck. Bunny teeth nipped his ear, but his fangs were already imbedded in her jugular, hot steaming blood rushing out. The warrior gave a sharp jerk to make sure he broke her neck, and then dropped her to the ground. He wanted to get the orphans too. Aw, but she'd done the job for him! During his attack her back legs had kicked wildly, killing three of her exposed seven children. Working quickly, Storm murdered the remaining five and then returned to the female. Grasping neck in his jaws, he began to drag her out of the den, and up the tunnel. Upon reaching the surface, he dropped the carcass and sank into a sit to regain his energy. Dragging a body the same weight as himself up a stinking clastrophobic tunnel had winded him like he'd run a mile to catch the dang thing. He still had to crawl back down and get the runts.


note » I haven't written a cats in forever!

[VELOCIRAPTOR DX]

-nods-
Welcome, Hys. This is Dizz, co-admin of WWn.
Approved. You'll have to talk with Foxx about being deputy, though.

[vena sera !]

He is perfect for GorgeClan deputy. =D
Be warned, though -- he is mean, sometimes stupid, reckless, and yet pretty wily. He's going to launch an attack on StreamClan or WillowClan, soon, methinks...
Anyways, yeah, accepted as Crimson's deputy!