Post by Brushfire on Mar 24, 2008 19:42:32 GMT -5
Name: Brushfire
Clan: EmberClan
Rank: Warrior
Age: 26 Moons
Gender: Male
Description: Brushfire is a stocky, thick-furred tom. His fur is a rusty burgundy with hints and tinges of darker brown. Brushfire's eyes are a hazel color; a gentle nut brown. His paws and underbelly are a lighter color like cream. Lastly, the tom's tail is tipped with a spot of black. The tall ears that top his furry head also have small tips of black. From a distance any cat could mistake Brushfire for a cougar because of his markings.
Personality: Brushfire is quick to leap to conclusions. He gives little time to think situations over logically. Other warriors have also considered him "hot headed". Brushfire is known for his sharp tongue and firey arguments. Other cats must forgive him, as the tom never means to cause trouble. "It," he says, "is an attribute my rogue father had." Nevertheless, he is a trustworthy, loyal warrior. Never before, has Brushfire failed a fellow Clanmate.
While he holds this, Brushfire stands up for his friends. If any cat is criticized, Brushfire will be there to reprove the responsible warrior. Though his comebacks can be harsh, it brings a smile to the victim's face
History: Brushfire was born to a rogue father, whom he greatly admired. His mother was a EmberClan cat. She had fallen in love with the wily rogue tom. The two soon found they were to support a litter of kits. Brushfire's mother lied to the Clan, to protect his father and himself.
Brushfire was born in the forest with his mother, who had slunk away from the camp to meet his father. Out of three other siblings that lived now as either rogues or loners, Brushfire was a runt. His parents worried that he would not make it in the world. His father took care of him, while his mother went temporarily back to warrior duties.
For seven moons, Brushfire's father cared dearly for him. He trained the young cat for battle, taught him out to hunt, and how to attack. This fired Brushfire's aggressiveness, but did not harden his heart like stone.
One night, a forest fire raged through the woods where his father and the other rogues lived. Brushfire, out hunting near a human dump, smelled the smoke. Bounding away, leaping the stream clear, he warned them. The rogue camp was burned away, and the brambles protecting it turned to a crisp, something joyous occurred. His father named him Brushfire, for warning the rogues of the fire, even though the danger was great.
A moon later, Brushfire entered the EmberClan camp. His mother greeted him with a purr, and pretended he was "her lost kit." But Brushfire new, he was never lost. The leader of EmberClan demanded his business. Defending her son, Brushfire's mother declared, "He is my son. His father was a rogue, but it will not be Brushfire's fault. I have broken the warrior code, but you must not blame him for my wrong." The Clan was outraged. They couldn't believe that one of their own had mated with a rogue. At first, he was considered a traitor because he lived with his rogue father and never gave his time to EmberClan. The Clan where his loyalty would have been recognized sooner and where he'd train as a proper warrior.
To this day, Brushfire has had to prove himself twice as much as a normal warrior.
IC: Morning light filtered through the branches of the camp as Brushfire woke. His jaws gaped in a great yawn. The deep brown tom padded from the den to meet his friend, Icefire. Her nose was lifted to the air, and as she spoke, their was an air of authority about her. She was the deputy.
"You were late for the dawn patrol," she hissed. "Just because I'm your friend doesn't mean you can have the slip."
Brushfire was not in his best mood. The tom was quick to snap out a stinging reply.
"Oh, really, miss bossy? I'm pretty sure the Cleanly die if I skip one measly patrol!" He growled, his voice dripping sarcasm. "Let me see you be quite the perfect cat!"
Rules Password: Morning
Clan: EmberClan
Rank: Warrior
Age: 26 Moons
Gender: Male
Description: Brushfire is a stocky, thick-furred tom. His fur is a rusty burgundy with hints and tinges of darker brown. Brushfire's eyes are a hazel color; a gentle nut brown. His paws and underbelly are a lighter color like cream. Lastly, the tom's tail is tipped with a spot of black. The tall ears that top his furry head also have small tips of black. From a distance any cat could mistake Brushfire for a cougar because of his markings.
Personality: Brushfire is quick to leap to conclusions. He gives little time to think situations over logically. Other warriors have also considered him "hot headed". Brushfire is known for his sharp tongue and firey arguments. Other cats must forgive him, as the tom never means to cause trouble. "It," he says, "is an attribute my rogue father had." Nevertheless, he is a trustworthy, loyal warrior. Never before, has Brushfire failed a fellow Clanmate.
While he holds this, Brushfire stands up for his friends. If any cat is criticized, Brushfire will be there to reprove the responsible warrior. Though his comebacks can be harsh, it brings a smile to the victim's face
History: Brushfire was born to a rogue father, whom he greatly admired. His mother was a EmberClan cat. She had fallen in love with the wily rogue tom. The two soon found they were to support a litter of kits. Brushfire's mother lied to the Clan, to protect his father and himself.
Brushfire was born in the forest with his mother, who had slunk away from the camp to meet his father. Out of three other siblings that lived now as either rogues or loners, Brushfire was a runt. His parents worried that he would not make it in the world. His father took care of him, while his mother went temporarily back to warrior duties.
For seven moons, Brushfire's father cared dearly for him. He trained the young cat for battle, taught him out to hunt, and how to attack. This fired Brushfire's aggressiveness, but did not harden his heart like stone.
One night, a forest fire raged through the woods where his father and the other rogues lived. Brushfire, out hunting near a human dump, smelled the smoke. Bounding away, leaping the stream clear, he warned them. The rogue camp was burned away, and the brambles protecting it turned to a crisp, something joyous occurred. His father named him Brushfire, for warning the rogues of the fire, even though the danger was great.
A moon later, Brushfire entered the EmberClan camp. His mother greeted him with a purr, and pretended he was "her lost kit." But Brushfire new, he was never lost. The leader of EmberClan demanded his business. Defending her son, Brushfire's mother declared, "He is my son. His father was a rogue, but it will not be Brushfire's fault. I have broken the warrior code, but you must not blame him for my wrong." The Clan was outraged. They couldn't believe that one of their own had mated with a rogue. At first, he was considered a traitor because he lived with his rogue father and never gave his time to EmberClan. The Clan where his loyalty would have been recognized sooner and where he'd train as a proper warrior.
To this day, Brushfire has had to prove himself twice as much as a normal warrior.
IC: Morning light filtered through the branches of the camp as Brushfire woke. His jaws gaped in a great yawn. The deep brown tom padded from the den to meet his friend, Icefire. Her nose was lifted to the air, and as she spoke, their was an air of authority about her. She was the deputy.
"You were late for the dawn patrol," she hissed. "Just because I'm your friend doesn't mean you can have the slip."
Brushfire was not in his best mood. The tom was quick to snap out a stinging reply.
"Oh, really, miss bossy? I'm pretty sure the Cleanly die if I skip one measly patrol!" He growled, his voice dripping sarcasm. "Let me see you be quite the perfect cat!"
Rules Password: Morning