Post by AmberEyedWolf on May 7, 2011 22:22:14 GMT -5
:: Name ::
Fogpaw. (Fogwhisper.)
:: Age ::
Nine moons.
:: Gender ::
Male.
:: Rank ::
Apprentice.
:: Clan ::
NightClan.
:: Personality ::
Silent as the fog awaiting the sun. Fogpaw speaks only when it is necessary, and when he does, his words express a wisdom beyond his years. His silence allows him to listen, and a great listener he is. Always alert, always watching, always listening, always learning. Fogpaw is eager to learn and unafraid to ask questions. He always thinks things through before speaking or acting.
Gentle as the rising mist. Kind and gentle, Fogpaw has no ill will toward others. He would much rather learn from other Clans than go into battle against them. Preferring to fight his battles with words and wit rather than brute strength, many cats might call him a coward, but his intelligence makes him superior in intellectual battles.
Viewing the stars above. Not being Clanborn, Fogpaw never had the idea of StarClan embedded into his life. Coming to the Clans was the first time learning of the starry cats. Being open-minded, he will not totally reject the idea of StarClan, but he is uncertain as to how true the claims are.
Dreams in the day, dreams in the night. A daydreamer, Fogpaw is often alone, sitting and thinking. He wonders about what else is out there, what else he could learn. His intricate imagination leaves nothing to chance. He thinks thing through, he thinks differently, he figures things out. He comes up with odd and unusual solutions that work better than other conventional measures. At times, he can even think up new battle moves and hunting techniques.
:: Physical Description ::
{Clickety!}
Pale grey fur fluffs out from a lean, slender body. Long and thick, super-soft, his fur makes him appear much bigger than he truly is, and its soft fluffiness makes him look much younger. Four white paws adorn the ends of long, secretly powerful legs, and a white tip completes the long tail. A diamond of dark grey stretched across his face, from the corner of each eye and from his forehead to his chin.
Beneath the fluffy pelt lies a strong body, lean and well-muscled, built for speed and stamina rather than strength. Long tail and legs make running easy, and long, sharp claws grip both the ground and the bark of trees. Running and climbing come naturally easy for him.
Deep, ocean-blue eyes give a splash of color to this grey-and-white tom, and make him stand out from the crowd. Filled with an intelligence and wisdom beyond his years, those eyes are always open, eagerly taking in the world around him. Moderately sized ears rimmed in dark grey swivel around to pick up any and all sound. Always alert, this young cat can usually be seen with his ears pricked and his eyes watchful.
:: History ::
Fog was born to a rogue and a kittypet in a Twolegplace. His father, Tom, was a kittypet, and his mother, Lavender, was a rogue. Lavender went to see Tom one night, heavy with the kits. While she was there, she went into labor. The next morning, before the sun had risen over the horizon, three kits were born. The parents were hiding in a corner of Tom's Twolegs' yard. They waited until the sun was breaking over the trees before naming the kits. Two she-cats and a tom. One of the she-cats, Dawn, looked like her father, an orange tabby. The other she-cat, Dusk, was a darker orange, like Tom's mother had been. The tom, however, was completely different. He was a pale grey, like his mother. She named him Fog for his fur, and because he looked just like her beloved brother, Fog.
Tom hid Lavender until the kits were strong enough to live with their mother in the Twolegplace. Tom helped bring the kits to the abandoned Twoleg den Lavender usually stayed in. Every moon, Lavender would bring the kits to see their father. He was very proud of the way they were growing up. Dawn and Dusk were daring and a little reckless, always getting into trouble. Fog was willing and eager to learn, and Tom taught him a lot about Twolegs. One moon, though, Lavender and the kits didn't show up. Tom didn't worry much at first, but after a few days, he began asking neighboring cats if they had seen or heard from Lavender and the kits. No one knew where they were.
Tom decided to go to the abandoned Twoleg den, but they weren't there. On his way home, he saw a pale grey cat streak around a corner into a dark alley. He followed the cat, hoping it was Fog. He caught up with the cat at the end of the dead-end alley. It was Fog. He pressed himself comfortingly against his son, about six moons old. "Where is your mother? Your sisters? Where are they?" Fog shivered. "I-I don't know. We were at home playing and some strange cats came around. Mother made us hide while she went out to meet them. A few minutes later, she ran in screaming at us to run. We did, and we were separated. When I lost the others, I tried to find you, but I got lost." The terrified tom pressed closer to his father. Tom took his son back to his home. "Listen, Fog, I can't bring you into the house with me. My housefolk won't understand. Will you be alright sleeping here in the garden?" Fog nodded. Tom went into his den, leaving Fog to find a place to sleep.
What Fog didn't know was that the strange cats had killed his mother. His sisters managed to stay together and found a new home with a nice pair of Twolegs. Dawn and Dusk became kittypets. Fog stayed at his father's garden for a while, unwilling to become a kittypet. He heard a few cats talking one day about a group of wild cats who lived in the forests and swamps and moors. Fog decided, at eight moons old, that he would go find these cats. He told his father he was leaving, and Tom wished him the best of luck. Fog left the Twolegplace and wandered onto NightClan territory, where a patrol found him and brought him to their camp. They soon took him in as an apprentice, renaming him Fogpaw.
Fogpaw embraced the warrior code and the life of a Clan cat. He liked all of the things he could learn from these cats. Fogpaw enjoys the life he has, but he does miss his family, and wonders what happened to them. He is loyal to his Clan, and is a good hunter and fighter. He is very intelligent and always thinks before he acts or speaks. He is a little hesitant about StarClan, but he is open-minded about it. He will make a very wise elder one day, if he lives that long.
:: Other notes ::
Fogpaw. (Fogwhisper.)
:: Age ::
Nine moons.
:: Gender ::
Male.
:: Rank ::
Apprentice.
:: Clan ::
NightClan.
:: Personality ::
Silent as the fog awaiting the sun. Fogpaw speaks only when it is necessary, and when he does, his words express a wisdom beyond his years. His silence allows him to listen, and a great listener he is. Always alert, always watching, always listening, always learning. Fogpaw is eager to learn and unafraid to ask questions. He always thinks things through before speaking or acting.
Gentle as the rising mist. Kind and gentle, Fogpaw has no ill will toward others. He would much rather learn from other Clans than go into battle against them. Preferring to fight his battles with words and wit rather than brute strength, many cats might call him a coward, but his intelligence makes him superior in intellectual battles.
Viewing the stars above. Not being Clanborn, Fogpaw never had the idea of StarClan embedded into his life. Coming to the Clans was the first time learning of the starry cats. Being open-minded, he will not totally reject the idea of StarClan, but he is uncertain as to how true the claims are.
Dreams in the day, dreams in the night. A daydreamer, Fogpaw is often alone, sitting and thinking. He wonders about what else is out there, what else he could learn. His intricate imagination leaves nothing to chance. He thinks thing through, he thinks differently, he figures things out. He comes up with odd and unusual solutions that work better than other conventional measures. At times, he can even think up new battle moves and hunting techniques.
:: Physical Description ::
{Clickety!}
Pale grey fur fluffs out from a lean, slender body. Long and thick, super-soft, his fur makes him appear much bigger than he truly is, and its soft fluffiness makes him look much younger. Four white paws adorn the ends of long, secretly powerful legs, and a white tip completes the long tail. A diamond of dark grey stretched across his face, from the corner of each eye and from his forehead to his chin.
Beneath the fluffy pelt lies a strong body, lean and well-muscled, built for speed and stamina rather than strength. Long tail and legs make running easy, and long, sharp claws grip both the ground and the bark of trees. Running and climbing come naturally easy for him.
Deep, ocean-blue eyes give a splash of color to this grey-and-white tom, and make him stand out from the crowd. Filled with an intelligence and wisdom beyond his years, those eyes are always open, eagerly taking in the world around him. Moderately sized ears rimmed in dark grey swivel around to pick up any and all sound. Always alert, this young cat can usually be seen with his ears pricked and his eyes watchful.
:: History ::
Fog was born to a rogue and a kittypet in a Twolegplace. His father, Tom, was a kittypet, and his mother, Lavender, was a rogue. Lavender went to see Tom one night, heavy with the kits. While she was there, she went into labor. The next morning, before the sun had risen over the horizon, three kits were born. The parents were hiding in a corner of Tom's Twolegs' yard. They waited until the sun was breaking over the trees before naming the kits. Two she-cats and a tom. One of the she-cats, Dawn, looked like her father, an orange tabby. The other she-cat, Dusk, was a darker orange, like Tom's mother had been. The tom, however, was completely different. He was a pale grey, like his mother. She named him Fog for his fur, and because he looked just like her beloved brother, Fog.
Tom hid Lavender until the kits were strong enough to live with their mother in the Twolegplace. Tom helped bring the kits to the abandoned Twoleg den Lavender usually stayed in. Every moon, Lavender would bring the kits to see their father. He was very proud of the way they were growing up. Dawn and Dusk were daring and a little reckless, always getting into trouble. Fog was willing and eager to learn, and Tom taught him a lot about Twolegs. One moon, though, Lavender and the kits didn't show up. Tom didn't worry much at first, but after a few days, he began asking neighboring cats if they had seen or heard from Lavender and the kits. No one knew where they were.
Tom decided to go to the abandoned Twoleg den, but they weren't there. On his way home, he saw a pale grey cat streak around a corner into a dark alley. He followed the cat, hoping it was Fog. He caught up with the cat at the end of the dead-end alley. It was Fog. He pressed himself comfortingly against his son, about six moons old. "Where is your mother? Your sisters? Where are they?" Fog shivered. "I-I don't know. We were at home playing and some strange cats came around. Mother made us hide while she went out to meet them. A few minutes later, she ran in screaming at us to run. We did, and we were separated. When I lost the others, I tried to find you, but I got lost." The terrified tom pressed closer to his father. Tom took his son back to his home. "Listen, Fog, I can't bring you into the house with me. My housefolk won't understand. Will you be alright sleeping here in the garden?" Fog nodded. Tom went into his den, leaving Fog to find a place to sleep.
What Fog didn't know was that the strange cats had killed his mother. His sisters managed to stay together and found a new home with a nice pair of Twolegs. Dawn and Dusk became kittypets. Fog stayed at his father's garden for a while, unwilling to become a kittypet. He heard a few cats talking one day about a group of wild cats who lived in the forests and swamps and moors. Fog decided, at eight moons old, that he would go find these cats. He told his father he was leaving, and Tom wished him the best of luck. Fog left the Twolegplace and wandered onto NightClan territory, where a patrol found him and brought him to their camp. They soon took him in as an apprentice, renaming him Fogpaw.
Fogpaw embraced the warrior code and the life of a Clan cat. He liked all of the things he could learn from these cats. Fogpaw enjoys the life he has, but he does miss his family, and wonders what happened to them. He is loyal to his Clan, and is a good hunter and fighter. He is very intelligent and always thinks before he acts or speaks. He is a little hesitant about StarClan, but he is open-minded about it. He will make a very wise elder one day, if he lives that long.
:: Other notes ::
