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Post by Hazel on Jan 27, 2009 18:33:31 GMT -5
the calling;;
dragonheart
the aging;;
twenty one moons
the faith;;
shadeclan
the standing;;
warrior
the stereotype;;
tom
the persona;;
Dragonstar is an odd cat. He's lonely but at the same time happy to be alone. He hates being around other cats, yet in a way he wants to have friends. He's not neccessarily a loner or outcast, most cats just stay away from him because of his attitude. He gives everyone the cold shoulder, and most usually think he'd be better off as a rogue, even though he'd give his life for their's in an instant.
No one's been able to get through the thick shell he's built around himself, and most every cat thinks that no one ever will. He's commonly found sitting at the edge of the crowd, staring longingly, as if he wants to be in there, chatting with friends and his clan's warriors, but he never even tries to go into the crowd. He knows that once he does, he'll panic.
Dragonstar, although distanced from the other cats, is a great hunter and even better warrior. He commonly uses hunting moves to launch an attack on an opponent, then, once on top of the other cat, will go into a full out battle rage, scratching, clawing, and biting until the other feline turns tail and runs, or he loses his life fighting for his clan.
the appearance;;
Dragonstar is, primarily, a brown tabby. He has his white patches, as many tabbies do. But what gives him his name, as related to fire as it is, is the red tinge on it, causing it to shine blood-red in the sun. The streaks, though simply dark brown, look deathly black at these moments, and with his big-boned build, it gives him a fearsome look. His eyes, so often appearing distant and unfocused, can give a look to kill if needed, but have never given a look of love. He has what seems to be a dent in his tail, from when he was a kit. It was ripped out by teeth and healed over well, but never grew back. Miraculously, the hair didn't grow back white on the traumatized spot.
the passing;;
Dragonstar just turned up one day in the Nightclan camp, a small kit with his eyes just opened, stumbling around to find someplace warm with food. No cat knows his origin, except Dragonstar himself, and he's not about to tell anyone. The day he was born was the only good day in his life, until he got to the clan of course. He was born among rogues, only to be taken away from his mother the next day and put in with another she-cat's litter. The she-cat despised him, not wanting take him in. He rarely got food. He was constantly clawed and bit and hissed at by the other cats, who held pleasure in taunting him. As soon as he could, he fled in the night, avoiding any cats he came across until he became almost too weak to go on. That's when he found Nightclan. He has never looked back and not felt hatred.
He grew up to be a tough apprentice, taking anything dished out at him and dealing it back, better when he could. Whenever he got hurt, he shrugged it off as if it was nothing, because, to him, it was nothing. He became a young warrior quickly, sooner than was expected of any cat. He handled it perfectly, as if he'd been at the right age. Still, there were days when a cat would walk into the warrior den to see him with a cold, hardened look in his eyes, scaring most of the other cats. There were always the few who tried to talk to him on those days. A warning hiss made them leave him alone. He learnt to hide that haunted look from his eyes, but still most are scared to talk to him, afraid it's 'one of his days'.
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