Post by battledance on Apr 20, 2009 18:18:15 GMT -5
Role player| Atalanta
Name| Battledance
Gender| Tom
Physical Description| Battledance is a proud, strong, muscular cat. His muscles are lean and lithe, moving easily beneath his full, thick pelt in even, elegant ripples. Battledance always holds his head high and proud, however, in the dark times that RiverClan has been suffering, he is rapidly losing any hope, making his bones show through slightly, his ribs defined against his dulling coat.
Battledance’s coat is a simple, solid shade of jet, and since it never really sees sunlight, it remains the purest shade of onyx. His fur is short and coarse; the hairs packed close together helping protect him better against the desert sands and winds. During the day, when the sun is high and temperatures skyrocket, his fur can easily be raised ever so slightly so as to trap less heat in and allow wind to blow and ruffle his short fur lightly. In contrast, at night, it can cling tightly to his skin to trap in heat and repel as much wind as possible. On his flank, Battledance sports peculiar markings in an odd formation. They are a series of tiny dots that form a star-like figure. At just the very tip (perhaps one millimeter long) of his hair, is a slight tinge of white. In the gloom and against the black pelt and undercoat, the spots seem to reflect pale gray with almost a silvery shimmer. Though the star is somewhat distorted, it is a figure unknown to any of the cats, as they have long since forgotten StarClan.
On Battledance’s face, the furs inside his ears are just like his unusual marking, tipped slightly with white. This makes his face more dramatic. Also, on his muzzle, just surrounding his nose is the same white-tinged furs giving off a striking effect. It makes his nose and eyes stand out far more than usual, creating an asymmetrical design. His nose is a pale gray, with the ever so slight trace of pale pink while his gums are a slightly deeper tone of pink, but are still strongly gray hued.
Battledance has kinked whiskers. He was born with normal, medium length dewy clear whiskers, but after an accident as an apprentice, they were mutilated beyond repair. They are now dull and lifeless looking, however, after the accident, it triggered a nerve making his whiskers many times more sensitive than the average cat.
To go along with his proud, haunting stature, his tail moves very little, but is rather kept very tense and erect, as if every moment Battledance is preparing himself for a great battle. Instead, he is actually just holding it taut because his tail had nearly been broken in the same accident in which his whiskers were deformed. When it did, the nerves became more sensitive and his tail hurt when it was bent too much. But no matter, it still fit his icy, arrogant and wily personality, his tail moving, flicking quickly and slashing whenever anticipation is building.
Battledance’s paws are slightly paler than most of his fur, yet not as pale as his other markings. His pads however were slightly hinted with pale pink and a little bit of soft dove gray. They were hard and rough from the many calluses gained from padding over the rough ridges of sand. They were generally pretty tender and soft, but fortunately, most of the time they would callus and become less sensitive, although sometimes would be rubbed raw.
Battledance’s eyes are a unique color, but the color certainly well portrays his broken and cold personality. His eyes are a deep, brown, tinted very lightly with a bit of eggshell blue; though in the shadowy light of the camp, often appear a dark, bottomless concrete gray. They are very reflective, but only when shone upon with true sunlight, a rare thing for the deserted clan cats. Most of the time, his eyes just seem dull and lifeless, just like he can be. The deep onyx pupils are very opaque and rather cloudy, almost as lifeless as a blind cat, though his eyesight is just fine, no better or worse than the norm.
Views| Battledance is an indecisive cat, though he sees the benefits of staying together. He understands that the group of cats used to always live together. He also knows that the desert would be their doom if they were left totally alone. He seeks power, as a leader or a healer; for he hates seeing his friends suffer, and doesn’t want to watch them die as so many of his kin have done already. He fantasizes about a safe haven where they could live in safety, and though he knows it is impossible, the thought of being abandoned only drives him further into the labyrinthine depths of his mind. He wishes to be leader, but knows many more experienced cats, although hubris is his great fault. He understands it, but it makes him no stronger, as he struggles to overcome his fatal flaw. He knows that many cats have lived long and could lead the cats from the darkness, but doesn’t know if he should trust the others to ever be the leader. His faith is weak, but knows there must be more. Tales of the sky fascinate him, and though “StarClan” have been long since abandoned, he wonders if they still are there, watching over the cats waiting, staying there ever so silently just waiting for the cats to believe once again. As impossible as Battledance’s idea may be, plausible explanation simply becomes the catalyst of Battledance’s near insanity.
Kin| Citrusbloom-mother (deceased)
Stormvalley-half-brother (deceased)
Father is unknown
Two siblings, both stillborn
History| On the eve of Battledance’s birth, his mother Citrusbloom had grown terribly weak. With the excruciating blaze of the day, and the bitter chill of the night, prey had become scarce and very few cats were receiving enough nourishment. She was near death before his birth, and though her first son, (from a different litter), Stormvalley, brought her as much fresh-kill as he could, she grew tired and weak. To her horror, during Battledance’s birth, his two siblings were stillborn. Battledance would have been the youngest of his other two littermates, but when they died, Battledance became the second, and last son. Citrusbloom had been destabilized even more after birth, driven to insanity at the sight of her lost kits. She stayed through the night, suckling Battledance for a very short time. Soon, her body was so terribly frail that after her life’s dangerous trials, her fragile heart gave way. She whispered in her first son’s ear just as death whispered to her. Her last words were, “His name is Battlekit, for I have battled endlessly for his life. He shall be great, I only wish I could be by his side, following in his pawsteps. Please, mentor him, make him strong. I will always love you, both of you, my sons.” As she drew her last breath, Stormvalley nodded solemnly, a silent promise to his mother that he would do all in his power to fulfill her final wish.
Another queen named Streampelt suckled Battledance. She had given birth not long before Citrusbloom’s death. She treated the strange kit as if it was she who had birthed him, and not her rival within the clan. She may not have liked the other queen in life, but she felt obligated to care for Citrusbloom’s kit. Streampelt may be somewhat conceited, but she was still kind, and could not watch any kit suffer, related by blood or not. Battledance had never doubted that Streampelt was his mother, and he always believed that he was part of her litter. In time, he had grown on Streampelt, and when he was finally apprenticed to Stormvalley, it broke her heart to tell him that she herself had only fostered the kit. It pained her even more though, because she could not even tell the young cat who his father was. No cat knew, for Citrusbloom never revealed anything about his identity. Had her first mate not died, she might have told him that his father was Flameshadow just like Stormvalley’s, but Flameshadow had died before even Stormvalley was born.
For his apprenticeship, he was apprenticed to Stormvalley, just as his mother had hoped. He was a quick learner, and was very intelligent, yet at the same time, he made many foolish errors. Most of the time, his mistakes were overlooked, for they had never caused many problems in the past. Then, on a quiet night, when Battledance (then Battlepaw) snuck out of the hollow, exposing himself to the outside dangers. While out of the safety of the camp, a large owl swooped on silent wings, cutting through the night. From overhead, Battledance couldn’t scent the owl as it approached him. When he made his daring escapade, the owl swooped down upon him, grasping his scruff hard by its deadly talons. Battledance was terrified, and while in the sky, he raked his claws on the owl’s wings. The owl began to fall, and before it fell too far, it released its talons, dropping down the young apprentice.
Battledance fell down very far. When he landed, he tried to rotate his body to land on his paws, but instead, he managed to move himself just enough to be just over a thick thorny cactus. When he spotted the cactus below him, he managed to force himself over more, but when he landed, his side still brushed the prickly points. Like tiny claws, they scraped against his pelt. Panicked, he turned, landing on the side of his legs, his face scraping the ground, permanently distorting his whiskers, and nearly breaking his tail. When Stormvalley heard a commotion, he came rushing outside as quickly as he could. When he saw his apprentice lying on the ground, his body broken and pained, he yowled before carefully grabbing him by his scruff and bringing him to safety.
For many days, Battledance lay near motionless, crippled. His body was mangled from the cactus, and his heart had nearly given way. The barriers of his mind broke, falling into insanity. When Stormvalley was about to give up hope, Battledance’s wounds began to heal. The scars would linger, but even so, they faded slightly, and the hair began to grow over it slowly yet surely. It was a miracle, but even though his body was becoming stronger, his heart wouldn’t mend.
After his body was healed, Stormvalley put every ounce of energy into helping Battledance become a warrior. Through many days, trials and much hard work on both mentor and apprentice’s part, Battledance became ready to be made a warrior. Battledance had lost some of his spirit, but his pride and will were still somewhat intact. On the day of his warrior-hood, He held himself proud, as if the owl from so long ago had never scarred his body. Pride and joy welled up in him, and as Stormvalley listed his accomplishments and qualities, Battledance listened more intently than ever before. Even now, he can remember his mentor’s exact words. “It is time for my apprentice to be honored with the position of warrior. He has learned to hunt and fight with every ounce of strength that many warriors long his senior possess. He is brave and perseverant. I pronounce him Battledance, for he moves with great fluidity, even in the thick of battle. He dances like a ring of fire around his opponent, and he is merciless to his cause.”
As a warrior, he and Stormvalley became even closer than ever, more than half-brothers or mentor and apprentice; they became true friends. It was one terrible day when a small fox came through near the camp. One kit had strayed unwittingly away from her mother. Battledance was there, petrified in fear for the kit’s life. He stood still, unable to shift his muscles to rescue the young one. Stormvalley however felt none of his misgivings. All he knew was that he must save the kit. He sprang, strong muscles rippling beneath his pelt as his legs thrust powerfully towards the kit. Grasping the kit between his jaws, he flung it harshly towards the nursery. Though he usually could take a tiny fox like this one easily, he was facing away, his belly more exposed than he may have liked. The fox took advantage of Stormvalley’s moment of weakness. He sprang, his jaws locking on Stormvalley’s throat. Though Stormvalley fought the fox off, blood still poured in crimson droplets down his neck. His paws became weary quickly, and he collapsed on the desert sand. Now that the threat of the fox was gone, Battledance came to stand beside Stormvalley’s weak body. Though there was but two injuries, one of them was fatal. As the blood gurgled from his throat he managed to whisper five last words. The words will haunt Battledance forevermore, these are the words; “The stars still watch us.” Stormvalley’s eyes glazed over, and then, he drew his last breath, before his eyes turned to the open night air.
Battledance has since lived a quiet life, bordering on the brink of insanity. His heart was torn in many pieces, for he had lost his best friend. Stormvalley had been his only companion. Streampelt was long since dead and gone, and he had never known his mother or father. Stormvalley had been his only friend; the only one he had ever cared for so much. He vowed that he would never fall in love again, that he would never tarnish his half-brother’s memory by falling in love with another cat.
Picture|
Name| Battledance
Gender| Tom
Physical Description| Battledance is a proud, strong, muscular cat. His muscles are lean and lithe, moving easily beneath his full, thick pelt in even, elegant ripples. Battledance always holds his head high and proud, however, in the dark times that RiverClan has been suffering, he is rapidly losing any hope, making his bones show through slightly, his ribs defined against his dulling coat.
Battledance’s coat is a simple, solid shade of jet, and since it never really sees sunlight, it remains the purest shade of onyx. His fur is short and coarse; the hairs packed close together helping protect him better against the desert sands and winds. During the day, when the sun is high and temperatures skyrocket, his fur can easily be raised ever so slightly so as to trap less heat in and allow wind to blow and ruffle his short fur lightly. In contrast, at night, it can cling tightly to his skin to trap in heat and repel as much wind as possible. On his flank, Battledance sports peculiar markings in an odd formation. They are a series of tiny dots that form a star-like figure. At just the very tip (perhaps one millimeter long) of his hair, is a slight tinge of white. In the gloom and against the black pelt and undercoat, the spots seem to reflect pale gray with almost a silvery shimmer. Though the star is somewhat distorted, it is a figure unknown to any of the cats, as they have long since forgotten StarClan.
On Battledance’s face, the furs inside his ears are just like his unusual marking, tipped slightly with white. This makes his face more dramatic. Also, on his muzzle, just surrounding his nose is the same white-tinged furs giving off a striking effect. It makes his nose and eyes stand out far more than usual, creating an asymmetrical design. His nose is a pale gray, with the ever so slight trace of pale pink while his gums are a slightly deeper tone of pink, but are still strongly gray hued.
Battledance has kinked whiskers. He was born with normal, medium length dewy clear whiskers, but after an accident as an apprentice, they were mutilated beyond repair. They are now dull and lifeless looking, however, after the accident, it triggered a nerve making his whiskers many times more sensitive than the average cat.
To go along with his proud, haunting stature, his tail moves very little, but is rather kept very tense and erect, as if every moment Battledance is preparing himself for a great battle. Instead, he is actually just holding it taut because his tail had nearly been broken in the same accident in which his whiskers were deformed. When it did, the nerves became more sensitive and his tail hurt when it was bent too much. But no matter, it still fit his icy, arrogant and wily personality, his tail moving, flicking quickly and slashing whenever anticipation is building.
Battledance’s paws are slightly paler than most of his fur, yet not as pale as his other markings. His pads however were slightly hinted with pale pink and a little bit of soft dove gray. They were hard and rough from the many calluses gained from padding over the rough ridges of sand. They were generally pretty tender and soft, but fortunately, most of the time they would callus and become less sensitive, although sometimes would be rubbed raw.
Battledance’s eyes are a unique color, but the color certainly well portrays his broken and cold personality. His eyes are a deep, brown, tinted very lightly with a bit of eggshell blue; though in the shadowy light of the camp, often appear a dark, bottomless concrete gray. They are very reflective, but only when shone upon with true sunlight, a rare thing for the deserted clan cats. Most of the time, his eyes just seem dull and lifeless, just like he can be. The deep onyx pupils are very opaque and rather cloudy, almost as lifeless as a blind cat, though his eyesight is just fine, no better or worse than the norm.
Views| Battledance is an indecisive cat, though he sees the benefits of staying together. He understands that the group of cats used to always live together. He also knows that the desert would be their doom if they were left totally alone. He seeks power, as a leader or a healer; for he hates seeing his friends suffer, and doesn’t want to watch them die as so many of his kin have done already. He fantasizes about a safe haven where they could live in safety, and though he knows it is impossible, the thought of being abandoned only drives him further into the labyrinthine depths of his mind. He wishes to be leader, but knows many more experienced cats, although hubris is his great fault. He understands it, but it makes him no stronger, as he struggles to overcome his fatal flaw. He knows that many cats have lived long and could lead the cats from the darkness, but doesn’t know if he should trust the others to ever be the leader. His faith is weak, but knows there must be more. Tales of the sky fascinate him, and though “StarClan” have been long since abandoned, he wonders if they still are there, watching over the cats waiting, staying there ever so silently just waiting for the cats to believe once again. As impossible as Battledance’s idea may be, plausible explanation simply becomes the catalyst of Battledance’s near insanity.
Kin| Citrusbloom-mother (deceased)
Stormvalley-half-brother (deceased)
Father is unknown
Two siblings, both stillborn
History| On the eve of Battledance’s birth, his mother Citrusbloom had grown terribly weak. With the excruciating blaze of the day, and the bitter chill of the night, prey had become scarce and very few cats were receiving enough nourishment. She was near death before his birth, and though her first son, (from a different litter), Stormvalley, brought her as much fresh-kill as he could, she grew tired and weak. To her horror, during Battledance’s birth, his two siblings were stillborn. Battledance would have been the youngest of his other two littermates, but when they died, Battledance became the second, and last son. Citrusbloom had been destabilized even more after birth, driven to insanity at the sight of her lost kits. She stayed through the night, suckling Battledance for a very short time. Soon, her body was so terribly frail that after her life’s dangerous trials, her fragile heart gave way. She whispered in her first son’s ear just as death whispered to her. Her last words were, “His name is Battlekit, for I have battled endlessly for his life. He shall be great, I only wish I could be by his side, following in his pawsteps. Please, mentor him, make him strong. I will always love you, both of you, my sons.” As she drew her last breath, Stormvalley nodded solemnly, a silent promise to his mother that he would do all in his power to fulfill her final wish.
Another queen named Streampelt suckled Battledance. She had given birth not long before Citrusbloom’s death. She treated the strange kit as if it was she who had birthed him, and not her rival within the clan. She may not have liked the other queen in life, but she felt obligated to care for Citrusbloom’s kit. Streampelt may be somewhat conceited, but she was still kind, and could not watch any kit suffer, related by blood or not. Battledance had never doubted that Streampelt was his mother, and he always believed that he was part of her litter. In time, he had grown on Streampelt, and when he was finally apprenticed to Stormvalley, it broke her heart to tell him that she herself had only fostered the kit. It pained her even more though, because she could not even tell the young cat who his father was. No cat knew, for Citrusbloom never revealed anything about his identity. Had her first mate not died, she might have told him that his father was Flameshadow just like Stormvalley’s, but Flameshadow had died before even Stormvalley was born.
For his apprenticeship, he was apprenticed to Stormvalley, just as his mother had hoped. He was a quick learner, and was very intelligent, yet at the same time, he made many foolish errors. Most of the time, his mistakes were overlooked, for they had never caused many problems in the past. Then, on a quiet night, when Battledance (then Battlepaw) snuck out of the hollow, exposing himself to the outside dangers. While out of the safety of the camp, a large owl swooped on silent wings, cutting through the night. From overhead, Battledance couldn’t scent the owl as it approached him. When he made his daring escapade, the owl swooped down upon him, grasping his scruff hard by its deadly talons. Battledance was terrified, and while in the sky, he raked his claws on the owl’s wings. The owl began to fall, and before it fell too far, it released its talons, dropping down the young apprentice.
Battledance fell down very far. When he landed, he tried to rotate his body to land on his paws, but instead, he managed to move himself just enough to be just over a thick thorny cactus. When he spotted the cactus below him, he managed to force himself over more, but when he landed, his side still brushed the prickly points. Like tiny claws, they scraped against his pelt. Panicked, he turned, landing on the side of his legs, his face scraping the ground, permanently distorting his whiskers, and nearly breaking his tail. When Stormvalley heard a commotion, he came rushing outside as quickly as he could. When he saw his apprentice lying on the ground, his body broken and pained, he yowled before carefully grabbing him by his scruff and bringing him to safety.
For many days, Battledance lay near motionless, crippled. His body was mangled from the cactus, and his heart had nearly given way. The barriers of his mind broke, falling into insanity. When Stormvalley was about to give up hope, Battledance’s wounds began to heal. The scars would linger, but even so, they faded slightly, and the hair began to grow over it slowly yet surely. It was a miracle, but even though his body was becoming stronger, his heart wouldn’t mend.
After his body was healed, Stormvalley put every ounce of energy into helping Battledance become a warrior. Through many days, trials and much hard work on both mentor and apprentice’s part, Battledance became ready to be made a warrior. Battledance had lost some of his spirit, but his pride and will were still somewhat intact. On the day of his warrior-hood, He held himself proud, as if the owl from so long ago had never scarred his body. Pride and joy welled up in him, and as Stormvalley listed his accomplishments and qualities, Battledance listened more intently than ever before. Even now, he can remember his mentor’s exact words. “It is time for my apprentice to be honored with the position of warrior. He has learned to hunt and fight with every ounce of strength that many warriors long his senior possess. He is brave and perseverant. I pronounce him Battledance, for he moves with great fluidity, even in the thick of battle. He dances like a ring of fire around his opponent, and he is merciless to his cause.”
As a warrior, he and Stormvalley became even closer than ever, more than half-brothers or mentor and apprentice; they became true friends. It was one terrible day when a small fox came through near the camp. One kit had strayed unwittingly away from her mother. Battledance was there, petrified in fear for the kit’s life. He stood still, unable to shift his muscles to rescue the young one. Stormvalley however felt none of his misgivings. All he knew was that he must save the kit. He sprang, strong muscles rippling beneath his pelt as his legs thrust powerfully towards the kit. Grasping the kit between his jaws, he flung it harshly towards the nursery. Though he usually could take a tiny fox like this one easily, he was facing away, his belly more exposed than he may have liked. The fox took advantage of Stormvalley’s moment of weakness. He sprang, his jaws locking on Stormvalley’s throat. Though Stormvalley fought the fox off, blood still poured in crimson droplets down his neck. His paws became weary quickly, and he collapsed on the desert sand. Now that the threat of the fox was gone, Battledance came to stand beside Stormvalley’s weak body. Though there was but two injuries, one of them was fatal. As the blood gurgled from his throat he managed to whisper five last words. The words will haunt Battledance forevermore, these are the words; “The stars still watch us.” Stormvalley’s eyes glazed over, and then, he drew his last breath, before his eyes turned to the open night air.
Battledance has since lived a quiet life, bordering on the brink of insanity. His heart was torn in many pieces, for he had lost his best friend. Stormvalley had been his only companion. Streampelt was long since dead and gone, and he had never known his mother or father. Stormvalley had been his only friend; the only one he had ever cared for so much. He vowed that he would never fall in love again, that he would never tarnish his half-brother’s memory by falling in love with another cat.
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