Post by archer on Jan 15, 2009 1:01:41 GMT -5
[Name]:
Saint
[Definition]:
A Saint is a very holy person, or one that lives in a very devout manner or is very pure-hearted.
[Gender]:
Male
[Age]:
18 moons [1 and 1/2 years]
[Clan]:
Rogue
[Rank]:
Warrior
[Looks]:
Saint is a symbolic image of what he stands for. A careful, Tao-esque balance of black and white, both of which cover around half of his body. The top half of his body is black, ending in an inverted triangle halfway down his face, reminiscent in some ways of a cowl.
With green eyes and carefully pointed ears, medium-length fur and a generally large body, Saint could certainlly be described as a rather intimidating figure. Powerful muscles carefully cloaked by the longer hairs and a calm tail that moves ever-slowly, a sense of mystery always shrouds this particular cat.
When padding around in his calm, slow manner, Saint's fur flows gently, moving almost in a mesmerizing pattern. Soft features were bestowed upon his face at birth, and he still carries them, usually equipped with an expression that one might describe as, 'Always-seeking-answers'.
[Actions]:
Saint got his name from his rogue mentor, who could see that Saint had all the right ideas, all the right thoughts, all the pure actions. Saint, generally, is a pure-hearted cat, and is almost always calm. His patience is kin to his name-sake, and should any insult be thrown his way, Saint does not become angry, and most certainly does not wish harm on his verbal attacker, but instead agrees.
He thinks, and he thinks often. When not speaking, he is otherwise busy filing away loads of information and theories and ideas. Often, he does not do things for his personal gain, but instead because he wants to do them. Should someone be in trouble, or should another cat need help, he is often happy to oblige with a mild-mannered nod and a small smile.
[Past]:
Saint was born to a rogue father and an exiled mother. His mother died at his birth, and his father, not feeling able to care for him, turned him over to a good friend of his, a loner by the name of Santana, or San-Tan, which was a nickname derived from his dark tan color. Santana was Saint's father figure for the remainder of his kit years, and took very good care of him.
When old enough, Santana taugh Saint as a Mentor would an Apprentice. There were several times when Santana tested Saint with a rigged situation, and Saint passed every single one with flying colors. Santana could not have been happier with him. Saint faced each situation with a clear head and a pure heart with absolutely no problem, besides one situation in which he decided a tree would be a good vantage point. It took some very careful instruction to get him down.
After being mentored for at least 6 months, Santana left him to his own devices, knowing that every decision he made in life would be either correct or would somehow become correct in the end. Saint was sad to see his mentor go, but wasted no time in beginning to live. He's travelled every part of forest that isn't claimed by a clan, and having investigated some areas of the twolegs' world rather carefully. He has made a small home for himself not far off of Sabretooth Rock, and seeks to one day be inducted into a clan.
[In Character]:
It all started out routine.
Saint started his morning the right way, waking up with the sun and eating some semi-fresh field mouse he had hunted yesterday. He ate enough, no more than necessary.
After that, he ran.
Running was an important part of what kept him disciplined, and after he ran to Sabretooth Rock, back, then back and back again, he rested for a short while before returning to the rock, where he sat atop it and closed his eyes majestically.
Usually, he was able to do this without many interruptions, but this time was different. Saint had heard a noise in the grass not far away from him. He could feel that something was about to happen, and with great resolve forced himself to let it go.
A few seconds later, he heard a roar and was startled when he was struck across the jaw by an angry loner. Saint was much bigger than the loner, but the other male insisted on his dominance. Once they were both in the grass, Saint rose slowly, having fallen from his place. He was in pain, but he could cope with it.
"I thought I told you to stay off of Sabretooth's Rock!" The loner shouted. Saint was convinced this particular cat was rather cooky, but never said so. This was why he had deliberately dismissed his demands.
"I still do not understand why you insist on this, but I will go." Saint's voice was a respectable bass, the kind that could quiet a room.
The loner would have no such thing, and swung at Saint again. Saint, eyes open this time, simply moved his head out of the way, and anticipated the next attack. Saint anticipated it correctly, and this time took the hit to his shoulder, leaving the loner open for a devastating blow to the chest followed by a powerful swipe with his right paw. Saint then jumped forward at him, pinning the Loner.
"You would do yourself good to stop being so full of rage." It was stated calmly, and with a stony, cold expression as Saint left. His shoulder hurt, as did his face, but he refused to nurse his wounds in front of the small crowd that had managed to gather at the sound of the commotion.
After returning home, he disinfected and cleaned his wound as best he could with his tongue.
Then he ran...
[Relationships/Kin]: N/A
[Other]:
[Codewords]: Painting Portraits of Ghosts
Saint
[Definition]:
A Saint is a very holy person, or one that lives in a very devout manner or is very pure-hearted.
[Gender]:
Male
[Age]:
18 moons [1 and 1/2 years]
[Clan]:
Rogue
[Rank]:
Warrior
[Looks]:
Saint is a symbolic image of what he stands for. A careful, Tao-esque balance of black and white, both of which cover around half of his body. The top half of his body is black, ending in an inverted triangle halfway down his face, reminiscent in some ways of a cowl.
With green eyes and carefully pointed ears, medium-length fur and a generally large body, Saint could certainlly be described as a rather intimidating figure. Powerful muscles carefully cloaked by the longer hairs and a calm tail that moves ever-slowly, a sense of mystery always shrouds this particular cat.
When padding around in his calm, slow manner, Saint's fur flows gently, moving almost in a mesmerizing pattern. Soft features were bestowed upon his face at birth, and he still carries them, usually equipped with an expression that one might describe as, 'Always-seeking-answers'.
[Actions]:
Saint got his name from his rogue mentor, who could see that Saint had all the right ideas, all the right thoughts, all the pure actions. Saint, generally, is a pure-hearted cat, and is almost always calm. His patience is kin to his name-sake, and should any insult be thrown his way, Saint does not become angry, and most certainly does not wish harm on his verbal attacker, but instead agrees.
He thinks, and he thinks often. When not speaking, he is otherwise busy filing away loads of information and theories and ideas. Often, he does not do things for his personal gain, but instead because he wants to do them. Should someone be in trouble, or should another cat need help, he is often happy to oblige with a mild-mannered nod and a small smile.
[Past]:
Saint was born to a rogue father and an exiled mother. His mother died at his birth, and his father, not feeling able to care for him, turned him over to a good friend of his, a loner by the name of Santana, or San-Tan, which was a nickname derived from his dark tan color. Santana was Saint's father figure for the remainder of his kit years, and took very good care of him.
When old enough, Santana taugh Saint as a Mentor would an Apprentice. There were several times when Santana tested Saint with a rigged situation, and Saint passed every single one with flying colors. Santana could not have been happier with him. Saint faced each situation with a clear head and a pure heart with absolutely no problem, besides one situation in which he decided a tree would be a good vantage point. It took some very careful instruction to get him down.
After being mentored for at least 6 months, Santana left him to his own devices, knowing that every decision he made in life would be either correct or would somehow become correct in the end. Saint was sad to see his mentor go, but wasted no time in beginning to live. He's travelled every part of forest that isn't claimed by a clan, and having investigated some areas of the twolegs' world rather carefully. He has made a small home for himself not far off of Sabretooth Rock, and seeks to one day be inducted into a clan.
[In Character]:
It all started out routine.
Saint started his morning the right way, waking up with the sun and eating some semi-fresh field mouse he had hunted yesterday. He ate enough, no more than necessary.
After that, he ran.
Running was an important part of what kept him disciplined, and after he ran to Sabretooth Rock, back, then back and back again, he rested for a short while before returning to the rock, where he sat atop it and closed his eyes majestically.
Usually, he was able to do this without many interruptions, but this time was different. Saint had heard a noise in the grass not far away from him. He could feel that something was about to happen, and with great resolve forced himself to let it go.
A few seconds later, he heard a roar and was startled when he was struck across the jaw by an angry loner. Saint was much bigger than the loner, but the other male insisted on his dominance. Once they were both in the grass, Saint rose slowly, having fallen from his place. He was in pain, but he could cope with it.
"I thought I told you to stay off of Sabretooth's Rock!" The loner shouted. Saint was convinced this particular cat was rather cooky, but never said so. This was why he had deliberately dismissed his demands.
"I still do not understand why you insist on this, but I will go." Saint's voice was a respectable bass, the kind that could quiet a room.
The loner would have no such thing, and swung at Saint again. Saint, eyes open this time, simply moved his head out of the way, and anticipated the next attack. Saint anticipated it correctly, and this time took the hit to his shoulder, leaving the loner open for a devastating blow to the chest followed by a powerful swipe with his right paw. Saint then jumped forward at him, pinning the Loner.
"You would do yourself good to stop being so full of rage." It was stated calmly, and with a stony, cold expression as Saint left. His shoulder hurt, as did his face, but he refused to nurse his wounds in front of the small crowd that had managed to gather at the sound of the commotion.
After returning home, he disinfected and cleaned his wound as best he could with his tongue.
Then he ran...
[Relationships/Kin]: N/A
[Other]:
[Codewords]: Painting Portraits of Ghosts
