Post by Panther on Aug 11, 2006 23:52:00 GMT -5
OOC Okay, here's my spy for Wolfheart. I know I said his name would be Rotclaw but I decided to change it to Bonemask. Enjoy! I like evil characters...*snicker, snicker.* I didn't know what I should put for where he goes in the subject so I left it blank. >.>...
MONTE : BONEMASK
i will purge your corrupted soul…
by the only way i know how…
Name: Rogue Name: Monte / Clan Name: Bonemask
Age: 26 Moons
Gender: Tom
Clan: RockClan (Though he is, in actuality, a rogue.)
Rank: Warrior / Spy for Wolfheart
Description: Monte is a shorthair cinder gray tom with a rather disheveled and unkempt appearance. Mildly ugly and unattractive he takes little note with his appearance and focuses more upon ideals, despising the vainness of the feline race. His pelt is unkempt as he takes little interest in cleanliness and rather prefers a matted, ragged look, perhaps in order to keep others away from him so that he can go on about his self-proclaimed, more important business without unappreciated eyes peering over his shoulder. He is unsurprising, unoriginal, ungroomed, bland, shabby, and crude. He is also a walking embodiment of the afflictions of war and battle. Having multiple scars that mar his body and face, tears and rips that litter both his ears, and a missing right eye where the skin has sealed up and grown over the scarred eye socket. Nicks and notches dot his skin making his fur grow unevenly and yet, even with all his flaws and degraded appearance, there is still a certain strong and subtly attractive quality to the rough and tumble tom that stems from the sheer battle scarred truth of his being.
Personality: First and foremost, Monte is a deadened heart and a vile creature. Dangerous and cruel to a marvelous extent he has mastered the shrill art of malevolence and wields it with a deadly precision and tactful shadow-like demeanor in order to keep his true nature veiled from the outside world. A cat who knows what he wants and how exactly to get it, he is a schemer in spirit and will stop and nothing to claim what he feels to be rightfully his. He also bears a long seeded hatred for the Clans and their laws as well as the warrior code, feeling all their talk and promises about loyalty and kinship to be a complete pile of wretched lies. His loathing is also well-founded as Monte does not hold ideals and thoughts without purposeful thought. What makes him cruelly dangerous and extremely foul is also what makes him undoubtedly cunning and keen, the fact that he does not act solely on instinctive lust and greedy, black-hearted, mindless want. Unlike all those stereotypical evil, thirsting for blood mongrels out there Monte defines himself in acting with poise and the harshest of mercilessness. When he kills he undoubtedly has reason, though that reason may simply be because he doesn’t like you, and when he sets his eyes on a victim he’ll plan their death down to the last breathless scream. He’s a wayward and liquid shadow, unbothered by the thirst for blood and yet still dead set on carving out the throats of every last Clan cat dimwitted enough to still infect this world with their mangy bodies that only serve to take up space.
Ill-content and brooding with ghosts peering into his mind from every cobwebbed hole in his neurological system Monte is a beast of much silence of septic quandaries, quick witted and normally caustic, though in a calm, placid sort of way. The rest is a whole breadth of mismatched dilemmas and drooling monsters of the brain that you’ll just have to wait and see for yourself.
But don’t get too jittery about all of it; he’s really just a simple cat.
Picture: See above personalized picture.
History As stated before Monte’s unrelenting hatred of the Clans and the cats who inhabit them is founded on a real belief and rather morose event that involved a painful, sorrowful kithood and devastating scarring of the heart and soul. Though, before you get all bleary eyed and begin to feel sorry for the wretched beast remember that there is a sort of redemption pattern to life and that Monte ripped out its throat and took the highroad, preferring slaughter to forgiveness.
To begin at the beginning, which seems like a good place to start, Bonekit was born into a Clan known as SilverClan. A foreign and unknown Clan from a distant place of no concern nor importance to the cats and Clans who abide under the laws of StoneClan. Unlike many mated pairs of cats his father, Embersoul, took a certain interest in the kits and grew close to Bonekit and his siblings. However it wasn’t long before tragedy struck, as it always seems to do in these kinds of situations, though not as abruptly nor unseen as most horrid things tend to play out. A new leader was appointed to the Clan, Coldstar, and things seemed peaceful enough. However, unbeknownst to the Clan, Coldstar had made a silent pact with a neighboring Clan (MoorClan) that Coldstar would give to them a litter of kits in exchange for SilverClan’s safety as MoorClan was becoming increasingly large and powerful, devouring more territory by the day. However, this wasn’t the extent of the deal. MoorClan wanted Embersoul as the tom had killed the MoorClan deputy, by accident, though MoorClan didn’t see it that way and wanted the cat alive…at least, alive when handed over to them.
So Coldstar and a tight knit group of his closest warriors took Embersoul and his kits to MoorClan and handed them over in return for MoorClan’s promise to leave SilverClan territory untouched. In horror Bonekit and his siblings watched as their father was tormented and slowly killed by the MoorClan warriors and when his two brothers tried to stop the older cats they too were murdered.
Over the next many moons Bonekit grew into Bonepaw within MoorClan, silently harboring a loathsome hatred for SilverClan and what they had done, sentencing his father to death and causing the roundabout deaths of his siblings while he grew up in the Clan that had murdered his father in cold blood. Knowing there was little he could do about his fate Bonepaw brooded in quiet, plotting a disastrous end for SilverClan and MoorClan alike. Upon the night of his warrior naming ceremony Bonemask lashed out against the leader and killed him, there was little the Clan could do as both the Clan leader and Bonemask were seated high up on the ceremonial rock that rose above the ground and before a cat could get up onto the rock the leader was dead. There was an uprising of course as cats fought against Bonemask in rage for their dead leader however Bonemask had made a few allies within the Clan who fought beside him. Once those who opposed him had been silenced Bonemask lead the remaining MoorClan cats against SilverClan and laid waist to the Clan he had once been born into, though not without the loss of his right eye.
After the devastation of both SilverClan and MoorClan, Bonemask vowed to seek vengeance upon all Clan cats, believing that treachery and corruption lay at the heart of every Clan as the picture of his father’s death still remained raw and fresh in his mind. Casting aside his Clan given name and taking up the name of Monte (a name a Twoleg had given him when he had roamed the streets of a small village as a loner) Monte led his rogue band of cats against every Clan in the territories from where he lived, his band of ragged, ugly animals growing with more cats as they scourged the lands. However, one can only succeed for so long without defeat and Monte’s defeat came swiftly as he was finally caught and held prisoner then exiled from the lands.
Now Monte has come to the Clans under StoneClan, vowing some loyalty to Wolfheart in a desire to tear apart the Clans from the inside out. However, his vile and gruesome demeanor is well hidden beneath a shroud of deceptive helplessness. Feeding Goldstone a lie about how his old Clan was destroyed by a group of rogues and he was chased from the lands with his Clan’s defeat Monte has now taken back his Clanname of Bonemask and lives as a warrior of RockClan though paying homage to Wolfheart. Keeping a low profile and tactfully hiding his true colors from the RockClan cats he’s begun to carve out a nitch for himself in the Clan.
RP Example:
____________________________________________________
Why?...
A whisper…a bleak…terrified…shocked…devastated whisper. Barely audible enough to be heard by anyone other then a whisker hair away. Filled with a fearing remorse, a confusion burning at the beginning of understanding as if even as that soft, horrified word escaped the breadth of his lips he was starting to realize…to know exactly ‘why’.
All around the acrid stench of fear swelled in the air, harmonized with the sharp, metallic stink of ripe blood spattered all across the ground, mixing into the earth to create a stew of grotesque mud that caked the paws and fur of every cat who fought in the clearing. It was a scene of tremendous force, something to move even the darkest of hearts, dead bodies littered the ground like disposable garbage not even worthy of the purpose for which they fought as wrathful yowls and breathless cries tore apart the evening atmosphere. An Indian sunset painted the land in beat red and lit the damaged sky in shocking violet and orange as if the heavens were responding to the carnage below on the terrain. Fur scattered the loam, patched with blood, and the scent of dismay and wrought violence hung in the air with an eerie and raw taste.
And all the while the vile creature stood there, engulfed in the feel of it all. The carnage, the utter devastation, the triumph. A sense of power and vengeance rose to a brim in his chest, threatening to drown out the pulsing in his ears with a deaf and victorious mindset. He knew already the defeat of SilverClan and watched with that one horrific eye as his rogues ripped open the heart of the Clan and laid waste to whatever remaining resistance still lived. A few beaten and battered SilverClan cats had opted to join with the rogues and were now being guarded closely and mocked relentlessly as traitors to their Clan by rogues while others still grasped to some unseen fiber of hope and fought vigorously against insurmountable odds. The one eyed cat had to respect their ferocity and yet patiently stood by with a hint of malevolent satisfaction as they were cut down one by one. His own claws digging unforgivingly into the neck of a light gray tom who’s shoulders and sides were cut and torn, bleeding out into his muted fur as his chest rose and fell with shuddering difficulty. The cat was clearly dying, eyes wide with white panic as his tail quivered and twitched in the muddied dirt. His last knowledge of life being that of the death of his beloved Clan...and even more devastating, the knowledge that perhaps he deserved it, had brought it upon himself.
The cinder gray tomcat with the one eye bent down just then and pressed his sneering muzzle close to the dying cat. Voice low and ill as it spoke venom into the broken cat’s ripped apart ear. Why? How dare you ask “why?” This is because you are filth, Coldstar, you and your precious Clan aren’t worthy of the lives that you lead and are better off to decompose for the maggots to feed on. That is why.
His claws tightened their fast grip on his victim’s fur as a wave of sick loathing rippled through his body. You killed my father, you killed my kin, and now I’ve come back to take what’s by right mine. Your pathetic life. A deadly soft growl grew in his throat as he spoke his last words to the terrified cat. Take comfort in knowing your death will be more merciful then my father’s was. And then he sunk his claws fully into the soft gray cat’s neck, killing the once leader of SilverClan swiftly as blood bubbled surface from beneath the pallid skin.
Turning and padding with a lumbering gate away from the carcass of his former enemy Bonemask could still feel the agonizing burn that had overtaken his right eye, now slit and bleeding after an opponent had slashed at it and taken all sight in that eye away in those sharpened claws. The opponent had lost a much greater body function, the ability to live, but still…it angered Bonemask. The pain, the knowledge that he would only be half-sighted from now on. But in his mind it was a small, worthy price to pay.
As he came near the surviving SilverClan cats who had turned tail like cowards and begged to join with the rogues a disgusted, vile expression burned over his face. His single eye glinting cruel and menacing as he passed each over in turn with that dire gaze. A single torn ear flicked in decisiveness as he turned to a black and white patched cat who was guarding the rogue SilverClan cats. His tone was harsh and precise, without woe nor sympathy for those who had been his Clanmates so long ago.
Kill them.
No SilverClan cat would ever run by his side.
_________________________________________________
Other: I took some liberties with his history about him lying his way into RockClan, I hope this is okay. I will change anything if anyone has objections to what I put into his history. Also, I didn’t mean insult in any way to Goldstone when I put how Bonemask lied to him...Bonemask is just a good liar. LOL!
.trust me…i dare you.
[/size][/font][/color]MONTE : BONEMASK
i will purge your corrupted soul…
by the only way i know how…
Name: Rogue Name: Monte / Clan Name: Bonemask
Age: 26 Moons
Gender: Tom
Clan: RockClan (Though he is, in actuality, a rogue.)
Rank: Warrior / Spy for Wolfheart
Description: Monte is a shorthair cinder gray tom with a rather disheveled and unkempt appearance. Mildly ugly and unattractive he takes little note with his appearance and focuses more upon ideals, despising the vainness of the feline race. His pelt is unkempt as he takes little interest in cleanliness and rather prefers a matted, ragged look, perhaps in order to keep others away from him so that he can go on about his self-proclaimed, more important business without unappreciated eyes peering over his shoulder. He is unsurprising, unoriginal, ungroomed, bland, shabby, and crude. He is also a walking embodiment of the afflictions of war and battle. Having multiple scars that mar his body and face, tears and rips that litter both his ears, and a missing right eye where the skin has sealed up and grown over the scarred eye socket. Nicks and notches dot his skin making his fur grow unevenly and yet, even with all his flaws and degraded appearance, there is still a certain strong and subtly attractive quality to the rough and tumble tom that stems from the sheer battle scarred truth of his being.
Personality: First and foremost, Monte is a deadened heart and a vile creature. Dangerous and cruel to a marvelous extent he has mastered the shrill art of malevolence and wields it with a deadly precision and tactful shadow-like demeanor in order to keep his true nature veiled from the outside world. A cat who knows what he wants and how exactly to get it, he is a schemer in spirit and will stop and nothing to claim what he feels to be rightfully his. He also bears a long seeded hatred for the Clans and their laws as well as the warrior code, feeling all their talk and promises about loyalty and kinship to be a complete pile of wretched lies. His loathing is also well-founded as Monte does not hold ideals and thoughts without purposeful thought. What makes him cruelly dangerous and extremely foul is also what makes him undoubtedly cunning and keen, the fact that he does not act solely on instinctive lust and greedy, black-hearted, mindless want. Unlike all those stereotypical evil, thirsting for blood mongrels out there Monte defines himself in acting with poise and the harshest of mercilessness. When he kills he undoubtedly has reason, though that reason may simply be because he doesn’t like you, and when he sets his eyes on a victim he’ll plan their death down to the last breathless scream. He’s a wayward and liquid shadow, unbothered by the thirst for blood and yet still dead set on carving out the throats of every last Clan cat dimwitted enough to still infect this world with their mangy bodies that only serve to take up space.
Ill-content and brooding with ghosts peering into his mind from every cobwebbed hole in his neurological system Monte is a beast of much silence of septic quandaries, quick witted and normally caustic, though in a calm, placid sort of way. The rest is a whole breadth of mismatched dilemmas and drooling monsters of the brain that you’ll just have to wait and see for yourself.
But don’t get too jittery about all of it; he’s really just a simple cat.
Picture: See above personalized picture.
History As stated before Monte’s unrelenting hatred of the Clans and the cats who inhabit them is founded on a real belief and rather morose event that involved a painful, sorrowful kithood and devastating scarring of the heart and soul. Though, before you get all bleary eyed and begin to feel sorry for the wretched beast remember that there is a sort of redemption pattern to life and that Monte ripped out its throat and took the highroad, preferring slaughter to forgiveness.
To begin at the beginning, which seems like a good place to start, Bonekit was born into a Clan known as SilverClan. A foreign and unknown Clan from a distant place of no concern nor importance to the cats and Clans who abide under the laws of StoneClan. Unlike many mated pairs of cats his father, Embersoul, took a certain interest in the kits and grew close to Bonekit and his siblings. However it wasn’t long before tragedy struck, as it always seems to do in these kinds of situations, though not as abruptly nor unseen as most horrid things tend to play out. A new leader was appointed to the Clan, Coldstar, and things seemed peaceful enough. However, unbeknownst to the Clan, Coldstar had made a silent pact with a neighboring Clan (MoorClan) that Coldstar would give to them a litter of kits in exchange for SilverClan’s safety as MoorClan was becoming increasingly large and powerful, devouring more territory by the day. However, this wasn’t the extent of the deal. MoorClan wanted Embersoul as the tom had killed the MoorClan deputy, by accident, though MoorClan didn’t see it that way and wanted the cat alive…at least, alive when handed over to them.
So Coldstar and a tight knit group of his closest warriors took Embersoul and his kits to MoorClan and handed them over in return for MoorClan’s promise to leave SilverClan territory untouched. In horror Bonekit and his siblings watched as their father was tormented and slowly killed by the MoorClan warriors and when his two brothers tried to stop the older cats they too were murdered.
Over the next many moons Bonekit grew into Bonepaw within MoorClan, silently harboring a loathsome hatred for SilverClan and what they had done, sentencing his father to death and causing the roundabout deaths of his siblings while he grew up in the Clan that had murdered his father in cold blood. Knowing there was little he could do about his fate Bonepaw brooded in quiet, plotting a disastrous end for SilverClan and MoorClan alike. Upon the night of his warrior naming ceremony Bonemask lashed out against the leader and killed him, there was little the Clan could do as both the Clan leader and Bonemask were seated high up on the ceremonial rock that rose above the ground and before a cat could get up onto the rock the leader was dead. There was an uprising of course as cats fought against Bonemask in rage for their dead leader however Bonemask had made a few allies within the Clan who fought beside him. Once those who opposed him had been silenced Bonemask lead the remaining MoorClan cats against SilverClan and laid waist to the Clan he had once been born into, though not without the loss of his right eye.
After the devastation of both SilverClan and MoorClan, Bonemask vowed to seek vengeance upon all Clan cats, believing that treachery and corruption lay at the heart of every Clan as the picture of his father’s death still remained raw and fresh in his mind. Casting aside his Clan given name and taking up the name of Monte (a name a Twoleg had given him when he had roamed the streets of a small village as a loner) Monte led his rogue band of cats against every Clan in the territories from where he lived, his band of ragged, ugly animals growing with more cats as they scourged the lands. However, one can only succeed for so long without defeat and Monte’s defeat came swiftly as he was finally caught and held prisoner then exiled from the lands.
Now Monte has come to the Clans under StoneClan, vowing some loyalty to Wolfheart in a desire to tear apart the Clans from the inside out. However, his vile and gruesome demeanor is well hidden beneath a shroud of deceptive helplessness. Feeding Goldstone a lie about how his old Clan was destroyed by a group of rogues and he was chased from the lands with his Clan’s defeat Monte has now taken back his Clanname of Bonemask and lives as a warrior of RockClan though paying homage to Wolfheart. Keeping a low profile and tactfully hiding his true colors from the RockClan cats he’s begun to carve out a nitch for himself in the Clan.
RP Example:
____________________________________________________
Why?...
A whisper…a bleak…terrified…shocked…devastated whisper. Barely audible enough to be heard by anyone other then a whisker hair away. Filled with a fearing remorse, a confusion burning at the beginning of understanding as if even as that soft, horrified word escaped the breadth of his lips he was starting to realize…to know exactly ‘why’.
All around the acrid stench of fear swelled in the air, harmonized with the sharp, metallic stink of ripe blood spattered all across the ground, mixing into the earth to create a stew of grotesque mud that caked the paws and fur of every cat who fought in the clearing. It was a scene of tremendous force, something to move even the darkest of hearts, dead bodies littered the ground like disposable garbage not even worthy of the purpose for which they fought as wrathful yowls and breathless cries tore apart the evening atmosphere. An Indian sunset painted the land in beat red and lit the damaged sky in shocking violet and orange as if the heavens were responding to the carnage below on the terrain. Fur scattered the loam, patched with blood, and the scent of dismay and wrought violence hung in the air with an eerie and raw taste.
And all the while the vile creature stood there, engulfed in the feel of it all. The carnage, the utter devastation, the triumph. A sense of power and vengeance rose to a brim in his chest, threatening to drown out the pulsing in his ears with a deaf and victorious mindset. He knew already the defeat of SilverClan and watched with that one horrific eye as his rogues ripped open the heart of the Clan and laid waste to whatever remaining resistance still lived. A few beaten and battered SilverClan cats had opted to join with the rogues and were now being guarded closely and mocked relentlessly as traitors to their Clan by rogues while others still grasped to some unseen fiber of hope and fought vigorously against insurmountable odds. The one eyed cat had to respect their ferocity and yet patiently stood by with a hint of malevolent satisfaction as they were cut down one by one. His own claws digging unforgivingly into the neck of a light gray tom who’s shoulders and sides were cut and torn, bleeding out into his muted fur as his chest rose and fell with shuddering difficulty. The cat was clearly dying, eyes wide with white panic as his tail quivered and twitched in the muddied dirt. His last knowledge of life being that of the death of his beloved Clan...and even more devastating, the knowledge that perhaps he deserved it, had brought it upon himself.
The cinder gray tomcat with the one eye bent down just then and pressed his sneering muzzle close to the dying cat. Voice low and ill as it spoke venom into the broken cat’s ripped apart ear. Why? How dare you ask “why?” This is because you are filth, Coldstar, you and your precious Clan aren’t worthy of the lives that you lead and are better off to decompose for the maggots to feed on. That is why.
His claws tightened their fast grip on his victim’s fur as a wave of sick loathing rippled through his body. You killed my father, you killed my kin, and now I’ve come back to take what’s by right mine. Your pathetic life. A deadly soft growl grew in his throat as he spoke his last words to the terrified cat. Take comfort in knowing your death will be more merciful then my father’s was. And then he sunk his claws fully into the soft gray cat’s neck, killing the once leader of SilverClan swiftly as blood bubbled surface from beneath the pallid skin.
Turning and padding with a lumbering gate away from the carcass of his former enemy Bonemask could still feel the agonizing burn that had overtaken his right eye, now slit and bleeding after an opponent had slashed at it and taken all sight in that eye away in those sharpened claws. The opponent had lost a much greater body function, the ability to live, but still…it angered Bonemask. The pain, the knowledge that he would only be half-sighted from now on. But in his mind it was a small, worthy price to pay.
As he came near the surviving SilverClan cats who had turned tail like cowards and begged to join with the rogues a disgusted, vile expression burned over his face. His single eye glinting cruel and menacing as he passed each over in turn with that dire gaze. A single torn ear flicked in decisiveness as he turned to a black and white patched cat who was guarding the rogue SilverClan cats. His tone was harsh and precise, without woe nor sympathy for those who had been his Clanmates so long ago.
Kill them.
No SilverClan cat would ever run by his side.
_________________________________________________
Other: I took some liberties with his history about him lying his way into RockClan, I hope this is okay. I will change anything if anyone has objections to what I put into his history. Also, I didn’t mean insult in any way to Goldstone when I put how Bonemask lied to him...Bonemask is just a good liar. LOL!
.trust me…i dare you.
