hawkstrike | thunderclan | warrior

[sweets_2.0]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,bTable][atrb=border,0,bTable][cs=2][classy=charname] hawkstrike[/classy]
[atrb=style, width:105px; height:365px; overflow:hidden;][classy=stattop]clan[/classy][classy=statbottom]thunder[/classy] [classy=stattop]rank[/classy][classy=statbottom]warrior[/classy] [classy=stattop]age[/classy][classy=statbottom]twenty-one[/classy] [classy=stattop]gender[/classy][classy=statbottom]male[/classy] [classy=stattop]sexuality[/classy][classy=statbottom]hetero[/classy]	[atrb=style, width:345px; height:365px; overflow:hidden; padding:2px;][style=margin-top:-18px;][classy=infotop]appearance[/classy][classy=appbottom]large brown tabby tom, with striking green eyes LINK[/classy] [classy=infotop]personality[/classy][classy=infobottom] -->> Strong && Aggressive Much like his large frame, Hawkstrike is a very strong headed individual. With a very strong stance on the warrior code he can be quite aggressive in certain situations. He is the kind of cat to argue his point and make sure the other party sees his side of things. However, he isn’t the type to get frustrated and angry if his point is proven wrong. He has strong morals, and will fight for them to the end. -->> Proud && Loyal Stormhawk carries himself high, with his chin up and an air of confidence. To some though, he comes off as cocky. His Clan however, knows better, at least most of them do. Hawkstrike does have a bit of a bragging problem, which can lead to eye rolls and scoffs. He shakes these off though. The tabby tom is very proud to say he is from ThunderClan, and would defend his Clanmates with his life. He would rather die than do anything to hurt his Clan. Not only is he loyal to his Clan, he is loyal to StarClan and the Warrior Code. He will stand by his Clan until his very last breath. -->> Jealous && Childish Every great cat’s weakness: love. Hawkstrike is not very mature when it comes to the ladies. He has a bad way of showing his affection and is also rather shy. This definitely leads to problems. If he has a crush on a she-cat but is too scared to show it, he will hide his feelings to the point where any other tom that talks to that she-cat will cause him to burn with jealousy and become the green eyed monster. When his happens, he pouts and will leave the camp on extra long hunting trips as an excuse to pout some more without the ridicule from his Clanmates. -->> Optimistic && Good Humored Though he is a strong headed, aggressive cat, he is also very optimistic. The glass is always half full in his eyes, and he always looks on the bright side of life. Despite his strong opinions and being proud, he is not afraid to laugh at himself, or crack a couple jokes for that matter. [/classy] [classy=infotop]history[/classy][classy=infobottom] Piercing yowls split the calm leaf-bare morning as Ravenpelt of RainClan went into labour. Pain ravaged her tiny body and her eyes were burning. Spasms tore at the poor cat, as she gave birth to her first kitten, a tabby tom who was the spitting image of her mate. Her pain was relieved slightly as she looked upon her handsome young kit and she pulled him towards her and started licking him to keep him warm when the second kitten started coming. Her body was starting to become very weak, and her yowls grew louder than ever upon the arrival of a mottled gray she-cat and another soft gray tom. The blood loss was substantial and extensive and the medicine cat looked upon her with fear and loss for what to do. The medicine cat feared she would not make it to see her small, but healthy kits become apprentices or warriors. Kittens mewling for milk, the she-cat pushed them toward her swollen stomach to suckle, though she was very weak. Laying her head down on the edge of the nest, she closed her eyes and her breathing became very shallow. “Stormkit! What do you think you are doing young man?” Four moons later, Ravenpelt's harsh whisper cut through the nursery and stopped the brown tabby tom in his tracks. In front of him was a very pregnant she-cat sleeping very soundly. Sheepishly, Hawk-kit turned to look at his furious mother and his perfect siblings sitting by her with their bodies pressed against her soft and welcoming pelt. “Nothing mom! I was just checking to make sure there were no … bugs! Bugs in her nest!” He nodded profusely and walked back with his head and ears down in shame. He was in big trouble and he knew it. Four moons old and already a handful. Lilykit shook her head at him, scoffed and curled up into a ball. Hawk-kit rolled his eyes at his sister and walked past his mom and sat at the opening to the nursery looking longingly at the apprentice den. Upon his sixth moon, the young tom and his two siblings were named apprentices. Lilykit became Lilypaw and her mentor was a hard-working, noble she-cat with a soft tongue. Stonekit became Stonepaw and got a grumpy old warrior with a bad limp. Hawk-kit, now Hawkpaw, was to be mentored by a very gentle and flighty she-cat who the whole Clan thought was a bit... off. Hawkpaw protested and whined the whole night and got put on Elder duty his first day as an apprentice. His mentor sat idly by and looked upon him with misty eyes and a soft smile playing upon her snowy white maw. Hawkpaw didn't want to like his mentor, or be trained by her but no matter how much he protested, the leader would not budge. They were a perfect pair, he had told him. Hawkpaw pouted about this for a long time until he started to realize that his mentor was a very interesting and strong character. When she announced to him that she would teach him how to fight like the noblest and strongest of all ThunderClan cats, he laughed himself silly until she gave him a very swift, but hard whack on her ear. Shocked and in awe at how fast she moved, he listened to her very intently. She taught him how to move nimbly on his feet and to fight with all his body not just his claws like he thought it was. Fighting was fun for him, but proved to be a challenge because he wasn’t very coordinated as of yet. His mentor had an unlimited amount of patience for him and would see him through his training even when he had given up on the move and himself. He would become a very strong and dangerous fighter thanks to her. Mistheart did not only teach him how to fight and hunt, she taught him everything she knew, and he learned well. She shaped him into the warrior she was not meant to be. His warrior ceremony was a bitter sweet one. Ravenpelt’s heart finally failed her. Hawkpaw mourned his mother’s death briefly before getting on with his warrior ceremony. Many were appalled that he had moved on so quickly, no one more than his sister who called him heartless and said she never wanted to talk to him again. He wasn't heartless; he just wasn't too keen on showing emotions or feelings of grief, even towards his late mother. The leader got on with the ceremony and gave him the name of Hawkstrike, due to his aggressiveness, but also his fierce loyalty. His mentor was very proud of him, and he personally idolized her. Soon into his warrior hood, there was a border dispute. Newly named and excited to get the taste of a fight, he offered to fight alongside his fellow Clan mates. Charging into battle with stupid enthusiasm, he let his body take over his mind and soon found that he was losing. The enemy cat had clamped itself on his back and was ripping his haunches apart with his hind claws. Hawkstrike howled with pain and tried to twist the cat off of him, but he could not remember how. He had lost his head and in turn lost his own battle with this cat. He was saved briefly afterwards and he fled back to the camp with blood drenching his haunches and running down his hind legs. The physical pain was nowhere near as painful as the psychological shame that came from losing his head. He felt like a failure. Hawkstrike's pride was wounded, and while no one openly mocked him, he felt like they were looking upon him with shame. It was the only emotion that enveloped his senses and soon it became his drive to do better. [/classy]
[atrb=style, width:450px; padding:2px;][cs=2][classy=infotop]roleplay sample[/classy][classy=rpsample]Ears stood pricked to the sounds of his home around him: A blue bird’s song rang out into the cool morning air, sending a shiver racing down his spine and ending with a slight flick of his long tabby tail. The leaves whispered intricate secrets as the wind caressed them with its pure touch, and the roar of the river to his left flowed into a melody that he had grown to love. The very smell of the deciduous trees were greatly welcome upon his scent glands and gave him a warm feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. Breaking his trance like state, he shook his thick, shaggy pelt, bits of dried leaves accumulated during his trek flying from it and becoming one with the earth once again. With a twitch of his whiskers, he blinked slowly, and turned, his spine contorting to his will until he was slowly padding away from the river. He was of ThunderClan lineage, but the peacefulness of the river never failed to ease his mind, as much as he hated to admit it. Love of water was for the foul fish eaters, though, he let himself get away with it, because he did not actually swim or indulge in the surely slimy taste of fish that RiverClanners loved so much. And yet, he found himself returning to the same spot, day after day, to listening to the sound of the river before he set out on an expedition in an attempt to satiate the hunger of the Clan he pledged his undying allegiance to. It was an odd ritual, he would be the first to admit, but it calmed his busy mind, and settled his inner disputes, making it easier to focus on the hunt. Stopping for a brief moment to part his incisors and let the scents of the forest waft over his tongue, Hawkfire noted the scent of robins, and black birds, too difficult for a cat of his size to catch on even his best days. Dismayed, he strained for but a moment longer before continuing on his deadly prowl, stopping periodically; waiting for the telltale scent or scat of a mouse to which he could sink his teeth in. After repeating his routine a few more times, he got his wish. The smell of a mouse caught his attention and all at once his senses seemed to sharpen and his mind emptied of all thought. He stalked the scent of the creature until he could see it clearly. As his muscles tensed in his haunches, Hawkfire locked his greens eyes on the mouse with an unwaveringly stare, and struck. [/classy]

[Rendezvous]