Silverstorm

[silver]

Name: Silverstorm
Gender: Male
Age: Fourteen Moons
Clan: Brightclan
Rank: Warrior
Looks:
Silverstorm is a muscular tom; well built and rather large. His legs are lithe, which allows him to run quickly. He could easily over-power most cats in a fight easily, because he has a strong body and he knows how to use it right. His pelt is tri-colored; silver, tan and white. His fur is rather long, and is often soft despite it's rough physical appearance. His body is marred with scars in many places, but the most noticeable one is across his left eye; jagged and twist all the way across his muzzle, and it ends at the bottom of his right corner of his lips (though not shown in the picture). The scar, however, does not affect his sight in any way. The most noticeable thing besides that, are his emerald eyes. They pierce even through the blackest night, and they mesmerize any that look into them. His fangs are long, and his claws lethal; they are no strangers to killing.

Actions: Silverstorm looks like a bad boy, and he is a bad boy. He may seem like the type to say something he can't dish out, but don't be fooled; if he says he's going to do something, he's going to do it without hesitation. He cares for no one, and that's how he wants it to be. He has no concern for what others think, and anybody that talks to him is just annoying in his book. He's tough and his patience is thin. He's aggressive and fierce whenever he's angry, and sometimes he fights just using his fury. He does things without thinking every once in a while, but that doesn't mean he's not smart. He's cunning and quick-minded, and he's a natural born leader; however, he doesn't like the attention. Within his own clan, his personality is decent. But if you're from another clan and on Brightclan's turf; he'll be anything but kind.. He's not evil, but when you make him mad, it can seem that way. He's no stranger to killing, and he's definitely good at it.

Past: Silverkit was born into a surprisingly loving family. His parents cared for him, and his father was the leader of their clan. He was a natural leader the minute he was born; he was the largest, oldest, and most dominant kit compared to his siblings. Everyone in the clan admired him and when Silverpaw was just an apprentice, and other cats came to him for advice and leadership instead of his father, Lionstar. Lionstar was a bit annoyed at first, but he let it slide and ignored it. Throughout that year, however, it seemed Silverstorm was already starting to move on up to his way to becoming the new leader of the clan. This infuriated Lionstar, because his son who was six years younger than him was already replacing him. Still, he waited another year to see what would happen.

Silverstorm had already mastered the art of fighting, and he was rather talented at it. He was agile, quick, and strategized before he made a move. This only boosted the other cat's belief that he should become leader as soon as possible. Lionstar, in a fit of rage, attacked Silverstorm in his sleep one night. Silverstorm was far too shocked to defend himself, and he loved his father far too much to hurt him. Lionstar kept going, and after a few moments of yowls and hisses, Silverstorm gathered his wits and fought back. The fight was where Silver gained the scar on his face, and he in turn, gave his father some mars in return. With one swift motion, Silverstorm tore Hirro's throat out and killed him. His anger had gotten the better of him, and he fled in confusion.

It was that night that he killed the rest of his clan before they found out he'd murdered his father. It took many hours to demolish everyone, because some decided to run away. He tracked them down recklessly until every single one of them were dead. He didn't know, however, that one of his sisters escaped in the midst of the night. Drizzleleaf. He thought that his job was complete, and he fled. He tries his hardest to forget about that night...but that's simply impossible. But now he's come across the new clans; taken in surprisingly, and he hopes to fit in.

In Character: This is a recycled post from a horse site. They won't always be this long; but i'm very proud of this particular post:

Adrenaline coursed through the masculine stallion's veins as he moved in a slow gallop, each stride longer than the previous one. With speed he traveled across the rough, uneven turf toward the terra that was calling him, a cold expression upon his facade. The effects of what had been done had drifted through and past him like a leaf on the summers breeze. He cared not that there had been many others, obstructing him from his claimage, and they were not the only things lying betwixt them. Now all the demon cared about was getting this plan moving, and taking his rightful place as Lord of the Darks. And so he had become, to remain for all eternity. They did not need any foolish drama that came with the years of being so young. Harks were plastered tight to his skull as he urged his straining body on for more, the earth vibrating each time his hooves touched the ground. Thick, mangled plush whipped around in his wake beside him, sleek coat shining in what was left of the suns rays.

Replaced with his formerly skeletal pelt lay sleek black flesh that all darks envied. His steel-shod plates were both heavy and inpenetrable, slicing thru bone with one swift motion. With every step the demonite trod, the ground beneath him transformed from lush grass and shrubbery to cracked earth. Blood-dipped daggers strode with confidence thru the sparse foilage that covered the plain, flame igniting on every surface. His pistons were long and lithe; with lethal cunning, he could produce a shredded carcass in seconds. The brute's shield was thick and muscular, and his whole figure was covered with toned muscles, rippling and flexing beneath dark skin. A desperate sheen lit his devilish coat, enhancing its shine even more. Plume raised high off the terra to avoid dragging, his tassle swung high in the breeze. His ribs protruded heavily, as if half-starved. Stout withers rose mightily from the spine; from these grew a thick, arrogant nape that was held high always. The devil's thick, silky banner sprouted from his arched crest, fluttering in the atmosphere. Thus, his tresses flailed high in the air, lingering there as if in their own accord. Crowned atop his serpentine came his cranium, massive and savagely sculpted. The patron's chiseled veins appeared on his risers and bridge, cutting across his visage. Delicate nares flared blood-red, taking in any and all scents from far and near. Cutting down the monarch's grooved and scarred labrums, however, emerged crescent fangs of iridescent bone, poison dripping from their tips. Seething from between them, blood dripped down his maw and fell to the ground, a sizzle rising from the earth. With fatal precision, he could send foes to their doom, lest a massacre befall him. Yet it was his optics which were the most devilish of all. Burning as embers from within molten rock, his crimson lanterns lay still and silent embedded in his skull. Blood dripped from their corners, staining his dial and tower. Indeed; he was a fearsome sight to behold.

Into the lands he trod, other studs fleeing for their sorry hides. A brutal laugh emitted from his mug, fangs glinting in the moonlight. Rising in a picturesque rear, pistons rising in the sky. Pivoting on his hocks, the ebonite demon raised his crown and trumpeted a war cry to all those who dare challenge him and become game to the most fearsome ghost to walk the earth. He prided in his magnificence leisurely, expecting the best and receiving no less. All stags feared him, and he feared none. The sinister fiend could not be subdued...he was Carzeth, the almighty retriever of evil, the bringer of torment, despair and poverty....the Lord of Hell, the Retriever of Death....

A thin layer of mist enclosed over the plantation in a haze. His steel gaze penetrated through the embers of morning darkness, for even yet the golden globe had not risen. Night still held its stronghold over lands, although the soft rippling and crackling of the creek far off was easily heard over the other damask intercourses of sound. Nostrils flared as he released a parchment of carbon into the atoms, then slowly inhaling oxy he returned the same proposition. Naturally his chest cavity rose and fell gently along with each inhale and exhale. Through the Autumn tapestry of cover, he came to exclude his visionaries over the few equines that rambled about. For now it seemed the equines were moving off, this pleased him slightly.

Praising with a snort his serpentine then came to arch delicately, veils draping over like a silken waterfall. Few strands rolling off the other side of his ample nape, few dreads dancing with a zephyr as it caressed over his figure and through the vegetation. A soft whistle rose from the zephyr as it wove through the branches and sapphire, auburn, and tangerine chlorophyll tainted leaves. Flexing muscles brought forth his fore ligament to his chassis, mug came to nearly touch his knee-cap, but with a mere thought he then dropped his dagger. He struck it across the terra-firma once, twice, and a third time. A light lavender musk fluttered into the lithosphere, coiling along with the other toxins that arose.

Again expelling carbon the stallion lightly jerked his brain pan toward the surface of the welkin, but again arched his serpentine. Locks were cast over his lanterns, covering the steel like embers of his visionaries. Caudal was risen at the point of his poll, the threads dangling through the air-scape yet they were toyed with as a soft breeze came. A muffled grunt was disposed of. With yet another thought his ligaments were lifted swiftly into a mere duo beat, freisian formation sculpted wearily from firm hands, naturally from the devils. Remaining silent he inhaled a figment of oxy, the stain of a belle in heat struck his attention. At once his acoustics etched forth as his bodic began to tremble with excitement, he released short nickers. Breath coming more ghastly.

His stepping became less fluid, hind pinions dragging low as he then came to a halt. Nape anchored his cerebrum toward where droppings had been placed of where the femmora had last stopped. Taking in the aroma he then jerked his brain pan toward the welkin again, his voids diverting over the scenery in a cast of lust. Tossing his cerebrum once more his chambers were then tickled apart, a shrill whinny descending off into the lithosphere. A single lobe bolted back, but again was erected forth attentively. Finding no response he then was urged on, stilts propelling ahead of his embodiment. Muscles rippled beneath his onyx hide, creasing his persistence his stride became more brisk.

Appendages thrived upon impact as his pedestals churned the very turmoil of soil beneath his compact form. Brawny exterior rippling within the death defying rays of mourning sunlight as it drained from the very stakes of the welkin above. It had taken him nearly a full day to reach the isle of his homeland before he had been able to escape yet another incident. Harks were pinned viciously against his pallet as he raced across the open palaé. Stilts came to wobble slightly as he began to take an incline up a stretching hill, the slope yet crating a few loose pebbles. Pedestals dragged against the pull of gravity as he came to puncture a few of the pebbles, making the vagabond stumble slightly as he yet gained balance before being able to fall. Serpentine was wrapped curtly within the elegant arch of his ancestry, the carriage within his blood lines just came instinctively to him now. Smooth yet formidable ripples were traced down his nape and laced down his obsidian exterior. Small traces of perspiration trickled down the mogul’s nape, for the battling rush of his organ had kept the incubus always on the tract of a high tempo.

And now his muscles were paying him back for all the work. For now they were already shutting down, all sore and erotically misshapen to some sort of detail. As along the way he had been chased through a packet of frondescence by a string of wolves, but they had left him long ago as he had outraced the beings. A last step was taken, Carzeth came to a relieved halt atop of the slope. Even though the walk down would be more satisfying, Carzeth relied upon his posture for now. Cranium reclining back from it’s tucked poise, elevating toward the welkin with a proud feeling as he had made it home. Home... Fibril was cascaded over chiseled quarters, committing a murder of only a few pests at a time with each rotating swing of his chain. But even so, each pest seemed to be replaced by another each time one fell silently to the terra-firma below. Narettes emitted a snort of exhaustion, strength yet regaining now as he came to glance about terra with a submitting suspicion. Lappets repealed as he forgave a light nicker, his vocal chords yet sour from not being able to drink within the last few hours. A pulsing vein within his jugular came to be felt, Carzeth dipped his brain pan slightly as he inhaled another brisk inlet of oxygen. Sounds of crackling echoing off the landscape into his droning pinnacles.

Fulcrums regained friction as he advanced down the slope with a minor bounce within his step, yet flawless within stride. Drifting carmine locks descended just over his left void, blinding that side of his vision bitterly. Pallet was lofted, locks now falling just between his twin lanterns. Pupils came to array over each individual substance. The frondescence, the flora, and even the smaller critters that were now scavenging about the landscape for parchments of food. And even other’s now leaving for the safety of their homes. Tussle of his serpentine was deemed, ebon tendrils befell over his nape with a genuine curl of his mangled threads. Another evident snort penetrating through his nadars, small particles of vapor arose from beneath his released carbon monoxide. Again the temperature was changing, and yet so drastically. But from the time he had came down the slope, the golden globe had dispersed amongst the welkin with it’s courageous colors that followed with it. And so now the vagabond wandered ahead, knowing yet the trail toward the creek in which the empire was named.

His speed began to fluster to a faster tempo, daggers picking up more slightly now as he began to imprint his trademark even deeper into the quagmire. Voids averted behind him as he took a glance to see if anyone was following. No one. A disappointed grunt expelled through his compartments along with his gaze as it followed ahead toward his onward point of prodding. Bifocals then trained upon the site of aquilla, the creek spilling down the side of the abode and out farther across to where he could not find the vision to see. Carzeth again slackened stride as he appointed his embodiment along side the packed, slick mud that lined the edge of the basin. Lappets came to repeal as his ribbon traced over his labios to dampen them, pallet was then engaged in a downward motion. Mug just hovering at the surface of the liquid as he began to drink thirstily, taking in long drinks before rising inches above the aquilla and gaining more oxygen to fill his lungs before again dipping his cranium. Twin pinnae now strung tightly against his attic, lids closing over his voids to relax for a moment. A soft breeze expanding past the charger as silence shattered across abode.

Relationships/Kin: Lionstar -father- deceased
Dewfoot- mother- deceased
Drizzleleaf- sister- living
Rainpelt- sister- deceased
Crowfeather- brother- deceased

Other: None.

Codewords: Poison Tears Crash Down

[(aurora) of the problematique]

<sub>Interesting

Accepted</sub>