Post by Elessar on Apr 19, 2007 19:39:00 GMT -5
Picture: 
Name: Elessar (Wolfstar)
Gender: Male
Age: 32 moons
Clan: RowanClan
Rank: Leader
Description: A silky, black pelt is laid on his skin; long and shaggy. Two round orbs of death and life are placed on his face, luminous and ever-gazing; full of wisdom, pools of sorrow that can see to the far ends of the territory, and can spot anything hiding in in tree, grass, or water. Black ears protrude from his head. A long snout helps him dig into carcasses. A black, wet nose is numerous times better than a cat's, allowing him to pick up scents from miles away. A strong, deep, booming voice can make a cat frozen in time; rooted to their spot and cringing miserably. It can also make a cat that has fallen in battle get up with a flame of hope rekindled.
Massive paws help him glide over the forest floor without a sound. His huge, built frame makes him tower over the Clan cats, and helps him hunt down larger prey. Huge, hooked claws that cannot sheath are used carefully amongst others, but can scratch into a enemy in a most gruesome way. Sword-like teeth can sink into a deer's neck and make it die while running, crushing bones and snapping sinews.
A long, flowing tail sweeps to and fro. The oddest feature of Wolfstar, is that he has Bald eagle, hawk, peacock, and other feathers tied into his mane.
Personality: Wolfstar, being a wolf, is a very dominant leader of RowanClan and it is a bad idea to challenge him. He is usually in a good mood, and is friendly to all in the Clan, and others, but when very ill news reaches his ears, it is wise to stay clear of him and not say anything to him until he has thought about it and has become calmer. He is a very, very wise leader and would give up his nine lives for the sake of his Clan, and any Clan in danger for that matter. But if another Clan does something to another Clan, especially RowanClan, then there WILL be bloodshed.
He feels a bit of jealousy toward the warriors and that have mates and kits, for he left life with the wolves moons before, and there are none left around these parts, making him a bit lonely and sad, for he can never have a mate.
History: Wolfstar grew up in a wolf pack, and lived by pack rules. His real name, Elessar, was his name when he lived with the wolves. But, he started feeling that, bit by bit, the wolf pack system was not efficient. He had seen, through the shadows of the trees, the Clan cats and their way of life. He thought of it much smarter. The Clan flourished much faster, because the other cats of these Clans could have mates and give birth, allowing the Clan to grow much faster. He also found the Clan system and Code very interesting. He had decided to leave his wolf pack, and try to join the Little Ones (cats); and if he was not accepted by them, then he would live as a lone wolf and watch them from the shadows.
The night he planned to leave, the Great Tunnel (tornado) appeared and killed everyone in his pack. He bounded away from the black swirling vortex of death itself as fast as his muscled legs would allow. When he reached the Clan camps, he found their state in turmoil. The four Clans were all huddled together under a great willow tree. Almost all of the cats of the four Clans had been killed by the Tunnel, including the leader of RowanClan. He approached them terrified cats and told them that he knew a place that was far away from the Great Tunnel and the Twolegs. Having nothing else to lose, the remaining cats of the Four Clans followed Elessar for a moon and a half, and they then reached the territory that they live in now.
Because he had saved them, the few cats voted the black wolf as the new leader of RowanClan, with the approval of the other leaders and cats of the other Clans. Slowly, the four Clans have started to rebuild what was broken. He prefers to be called his real name, Elessar, but by many he is called “Wolfstar.”
Relationships: All of the cats respect him but he has no wolf friends. Sightwing is a dear friend.((edited by Icestorm[/i]))
IC: Hunger clawed mercilessly at his stomach; and his paws dragged himself wearily out of the camp entrance and into the Rowan Forest. He breathed deeply, scents of blooming lilacs and honeysuckle, marigold, mint, elm, and pine needles all being smelled at once in a sweet and flourishing elixir of smell. He paid no attention to the scuttling voles and nibbling rabbits, and they ignored him in turn, for they knew that he did not fancy small prey right now, and they made room for him to step, respectfully, as he gave the small creatures an aloof grin as wide as the sky itself. They turned back to what they were doing, waiting to see what the Hunter would bring back to camp this evening. The black shadow trotted noiselessly through the soft, emerald grass; ears pricked for, nose on high-sensitivity.
The hunting figure weaved in between rowans and firs and oaks and birch trees, creeping ever-closer to the prey. The beige, long-legged prey grazed peacefully of long shoots of sweetgrass and wrapped their tongues around the large elm leaves. Fawns pranced happily through the tallgrass, poking their heads in each other’s faces. One decided to be adventurous, yet idiotic, and wandered off from the herd of deer.
The fawn had turned to face the opposite direction and stooped over a pink flower, talking in a deep whiff of the plant. The Hunter chose this moment as opportune moment to strike. He made sure that he was downwind, and took a few soundless steps forward, until he was only a lope away. The Hunter bunched his haunches and put all of his weight onto his back legs. He flicked his tail once, and leapt at the small deer. He rammed himself into the fawn’s side; the terrified deer crashed to the ground in a tangle of bandy legs. The Hunter put a huge paw on its side, keeping it pinned down, while he bit down into its neck, blood seeping from slit flesh. Elessar muttered a safe journey to the Sky for the little deer, and thanked it for allowing him to hunt it.
Carrying the limp fawn easily in his gaping jaws, he bounded swiftly back to camp, and began to feast on the now soulless fawn.
Motto: Lost time is never found again. Time kept is forever treasured.
Name: Elessar (Wolfstar)
Gender: Male
Age: 32 moons
Clan: RowanClan
Rank: Leader
Description: A silky, black pelt is laid on his skin; long and shaggy. Two round orbs of death and life are placed on his face, luminous and ever-gazing; full of wisdom, pools of sorrow that can see to the far ends of the territory, and can spot anything hiding in in tree, grass, or water. Black ears protrude from his head. A long snout helps him dig into carcasses. A black, wet nose is numerous times better than a cat's, allowing him to pick up scents from miles away. A strong, deep, booming voice can make a cat frozen in time; rooted to their spot and cringing miserably. It can also make a cat that has fallen in battle get up with a flame of hope rekindled.
Massive paws help him glide over the forest floor without a sound. His huge, built frame makes him tower over the Clan cats, and helps him hunt down larger prey. Huge, hooked claws that cannot sheath are used carefully amongst others, but can scratch into a enemy in a most gruesome way. Sword-like teeth can sink into a deer's neck and make it die while running, crushing bones and snapping sinews.
A long, flowing tail sweeps to and fro. The oddest feature of Wolfstar, is that he has Bald eagle, hawk, peacock, and other feathers tied into his mane.
Personality: Wolfstar, being a wolf, is a very dominant leader of RowanClan and it is a bad idea to challenge him. He is usually in a good mood, and is friendly to all in the Clan, and others, but when very ill news reaches his ears, it is wise to stay clear of him and not say anything to him until he has thought about it and has become calmer. He is a very, very wise leader and would give up his nine lives for the sake of his Clan, and any Clan in danger for that matter. But if another Clan does something to another Clan, especially RowanClan, then there WILL be bloodshed.
He feels a bit of jealousy toward the warriors and that have mates and kits, for he left life with the wolves moons before, and there are none left around these parts, making him a bit lonely and sad, for he can never have a mate.
History: Wolfstar grew up in a wolf pack, and lived by pack rules. His real name, Elessar, was his name when he lived with the wolves. But, he started feeling that, bit by bit, the wolf pack system was not efficient. He had seen, through the shadows of the trees, the Clan cats and their way of life. He thought of it much smarter. The Clan flourished much faster, because the other cats of these Clans could have mates and give birth, allowing the Clan to grow much faster. He also found the Clan system and Code very interesting. He had decided to leave his wolf pack, and try to join the Little Ones (cats); and if he was not accepted by them, then he would live as a lone wolf and watch them from the shadows.
The night he planned to leave, the Great Tunnel (tornado) appeared and killed everyone in his pack. He bounded away from the black swirling vortex of death itself as fast as his muscled legs would allow. When he reached the Clan camps, he found their state in turmoil. The four Clans were all huddled together under a great willow tree. Almost all of the cats of the four Clans had been killed by the Tunnel, including the leader of RowanClan. He approached them terrified cats and told them that he knew a place that was far away from the Great Tunnel and the Twolegs. Having nothing else to lose, the remaining cats of the Four Clans followed Elessar for a moon and a half, and they then reached the territory that they live in now.
Because he had saved them, the few cats voted the black wolf as the new leader of RowanClan, with the approval of the other leaders and cats of the other Clans. Slowly, the four Clans have started to rebuild what was broken. He prefers to be called his real name, Elessar, but by many he is called “Wolfstar.”
Relationships: All of the cats respect him but he has no wolf friends. Sightwing is a dear friend.((edited by Icestorm[/i]))
IC: Hunger clawed mercilessly at his stomach; and his paws dragged himself wearily out of the camp entrance and into the Rowan Forest. He breathed deeply, scents of blooming lilacs and honeysuckle, marigold, mint, elm, and pine needles all being smelled at once in a sweet and flourishing elixir of smell. He paid no attention to the scuttling voles and nibbling rabbits, and they ignored him in turn, for they knew that he did not fancy small prey right now, and they made room for him to step, respectfully, as he gave the small creatures an aloof grin as wide as the sky itself. They turned back to what they were doing, waiting to see what the Hunter would bring back to camp this evening. The black shadow trotted noiselessly through the soft, emerald grass; ears pricked for, nose on high-sensitivity.
The hunting figure weaved in between rowans and firs and oaks and birch trees, creeping ever-closer to the prey. The beige, long-legged prey grazed peacefully of long shoots of sweetgrass and wrapped their tongues around the large elm leaves. Fawns pranced happily through the tallgrass, poking their heads in each other’s faces. One decided to be adventurous, yet idiotic, and wandered off from the herd of deer.
The fawn had turned to face the opposite direction and stooped over a pink flower, talking in a deep whiff of the plant. The Hunter chose this moment as opportune moment to strike. He made sure that he was downwind, and took a few soundless steps forward, until he was only a lope away. The Hunter bunched his haunches and put all of his weight onto his back legs. He flicked his tail once, and leapt at the small deer. He rammed himself into the fawn’s side; the terrified deer crashed to the ground in a tangle of bandy legs. The Hunter put a huge paw on its side, keeping it pinned down, while he bit down into its neck, blood seeping from slit flesh. Elessar muttered a safe journey to the Sky for the little deer, and thanked it for allowing him to hunt it.
Carrying the limp fawn easily in his gaping jaws, he bounded swiftly back to camp, and began to feast on the now soulless fawn.
Motto: Lost time is never found again. Time kept is forever treasured.
