Post by Blithe on Jun 28, 2020 16:13:50 GMT -6
[attr="class","appCONTAINER]
[attr="class","appHEADER"]fogfur
[attr="class","appTAG"]@/fog - a pretty white but often scowling she cat
[attr="class","appIMAGE"]
[attr="class","appPADDING1"]
[attr="class","appTOPBOX"]
[attr="class","appTOPBOXBG"]
| 39 MOONS | FEMALE | HETEROSEXUAL | THUNDER | WARRIOR |
[attr="class","appBGIMAGE"]
[attr="class","appCATEGORY"]TRAITS
[attr="class","appTRAITSBG"]
| + tenacious + loyal + practical + passionate + fiesty | - unforgiving - rash - sharp - stubborn - prideful |
[attr="class","appCATEGORY"]PERSONALITY
[attr="class","appBAR"]
[attr="class","appFIELD"]
From the moment Fogfur was Fogkit, she's always been a bit of a firecracker. Determined, confident and a little biting, she was a spirited apprentice who grew into a more tempered but still tenacious warrior. She got into her fair bit of trouble, usually for disrespecting or challenging a senior warrior, but as rude as she could sometimes be, she also always took her punishment with honor.
With a little more experience under her paws, Fogfur has shown herself to be a practical warrior, who's first concern is taking care of business before considering things such as play or fun. She's tried to instill these values in her kits (one with perhaps more success than the other), who she loves fiercely. Though sometimes a distant mother in hopes she would be teaching her children independence, Fogfurt loves her kits more strongly than she even knew was possible. Her family and clan are of the utmost importance to her, and the recent events have sent her into a private turmoil.
Sometimes, her mouth can still get her into trouble, however much she tries to insist she’s grown up from the sassy apprentice she used to be. Her tendency to hold grudges has only grown stronger, however, and once Fogfur feels she’s been crossed, a cat may find themselves in her poor graces forever.
From the moment Fogfur was Fogkit, she's always been a bit of a firecracker. Determined, confident and a little biting, she was a spirited apprentice who grew into a more tempered but still tenacious warrior. She got into her fair bit of trouble, usually for disrespecting or challenging a senior warrior, but as rude as she could sometimes be, she also always took her punishment with honor.
With a little more experience under her paws, Fogfur has shown herself to be a practical warrior, who's first concern is taking care of business before considering things such as play or fun. She's tried to instill these values in her kits (one with perhaps more success than the other), who she loves fiercely. Though sometimes a distant mother in hopes she would be teaching her children independence, Fogfurt loves her kits more strongly than she even knew was possible. Her family and clan are of the utmost importance to her, and the recent events have sent her into a private turmoil.
Sometimes, her mouth can still get her into trouble, however much she tries to insist she’s grown up from the sassy apprentice she used to be. Her tendency to hold grudges has only grown stronger, however, and once Fogfur feels she’s been crossed, a cat may find themselves in her poor graces forever.
[attr="class","appCATEGORY"]HISTORY
[attr="class","appBAR"]
[attr="class","appFIELD"]Fogkit was born to a small litter of sisters, and was a gregarious and adventurous kit. She always wanted to know what the warriors were doing, and ended up tripping a cat more than once in her eagerness. Despite her troublemaking, she was well loved by her mother and father, and looked forward with stars in her eyes to the day she’d become an apprentice.
As Fogkit became Fogpaw only grew more confident. She had a reputation for bossing the other apprentences around - but hey! They needed it! Especially that lump Silverpaw, who was always teasing her for being too wound up and trying to encourage her to play. Though the two bickered often (which was really Silverpaw playfully riling Fogpaw up until she snapped at him), they soon became dedicated friends. Though Fogpaw wouldn’t hesitate to call Silverpaw a lazy lump to his face, she’d claw the fur off anyone else who dared say it! In return, Silverpaw tempered Fogpaw’s rashness, and kept her down to earth when she needed it.
As a young warrior, Fogfur was for a while ignorant to what most of the clan knew - she and Silverclaw were crazy about each other and would surely become mates. Silverclaw pretended to not know what anyone was talking about too, but it was obvious to anyone who watched them that he adored the prickly shecat. It wasn’t until a border skirmish turned bloody that Fogfur realized what the tom meant to her. The sight of him limping into camp covered in blood had frightened her in a way she had never felt before. Before he was even out of the medicine den she was demanding his kits, and Silverclaw could only happily return her affections.
Just when Fogfur was sure she could never love another cat as much as she loved Silverclaw, her kits were born, two perfect tufts of fur squirming and mewling for milk. She loved them instantly, proudly pointing out their antics to anyone who would listen. Her bluster covered up a secret nervousness however, Fogfur terrified of being a bad mother. This fear drove her to be perhaps a bit cold at times, attempting to teach her kits how to fend for themselves. Luckily they had Silverclaw to dote on them, and assure them that their mother loved them with all her heart.
All too soon, Snowpaw and Slatepaw were apprentices, bold and brave and given away to warriors to train. It was a strange time for Fogfur, and she still struggles between wanting to let her kits go and have their independence, and guilt over not being more soft and emotional with them when they were kits.
Not long after their naming, tragedy struck. Fogfur, Silverclaw and another warrior were on on patrol when they were attacked by rouges. It was an unexpected and senseless battle, and immediately Fogfur was overwhelmed by the chaos. When they finally sent the rouges running, she turned to find her love lay dying. The limp body of Silverclaw was distressingly close (Why hadn’t she turned around? Why hadn’t she been there when he needed her?). By the time she reached him, his body was cold and his eyes were glazed.
Today, Fogfur is still struggling with her feelings of mourning. She misses Silverclaw with every day, and she’s often distracted with thoughts of revenge. Where had those rouges come from? Where did they go? And when would she get a chance to destroy them?
As Fogkit became Fogpaw only grew more confident. She had a reputation for bossing the other apprentences around - but hey! They needed it! Especially that lump Silverpaw, who was always teasing her for being too wound up and trying to encourage her to play. Though the two bickered often (which was really Silverpaw playfully riling Fogpaw up until she snapped at him), they soon became dedicated friends. Though Fogpaw wouldn’t hesitate to call Silverpaw a lazy lump to his face, she’d claw the fur off anyone else who dared say it! In return, Silverpaw tempered Fogpaw’s rashness, and kept her down to earth when she needed it.
As a young warrior, Fogfur was for a while ignorant to what most of the clan knew - she and Silverclaw were crazy about each other and would surely become mates. Silverclaw pretended to not know what anyone was talking about too, but it was obvious to anyone who watched them that he adored the prickly shecat. It wasn’t until a border skirmish turned bloody that Fogfur realized what the tom meant to her. The sight of him limping into camp covered in blood had frightened her in a way she had never felt before. Before he was even out of the medicine den she was demanding his kits, and Silverclaw could only happily return her affections.
Just when Fogfur was sure she could never love another cat as much as she loved Silverclaw, her kits were born, two perfect tufts of fur squirming and mewling for milk. She loved them instantly, proudly pointing out their antics to anyone who would listen. Her bluster covered up a secret nervousness however, Fogfur terrified of being a bad mother. This fear drove her to be perhaps a bit cold at times, attempting to teach her kits how to fend for themselves. Luckily they had Silverclaw to dote on them, and assure them that their mother loved them with all her heart.
All too soon, Snowpaw and Slatepaw were apprentices, bold and brave and given away to warriors to train. It was a strange time for Fogfur, and she still struggles between wanting to let her kits go and have their independence, and guilt over not being more soft and emotional with them when they were kits.
Not long after their naming, tragedy struck. Fogfur, Silverclaw and another warrior were on on patrol when they were attacked by rouges. It was an unexpected and senseless battle, and immediately Fogfur was overwhelmed by the chaos. When they finally sent the rouges running, she turned to find her love lay dying. The limp body of Silverclaw was distressingly close (Why hadn’t she turned around? Why hadn’t she been there when he needed her?). By the time she reached him, his body was cold and his eyes were glazed.
Today, Fogfur is still struggling with her feelings of mourning. She misses Silverclaw with every day, and she’s often distracted with thoughts of revenge. Where had those rouges come from? Where did they go? And when would she get a chance to destroy them?
[attr="class","appNAMEREASON"]
| PREFIX; her white coat | SUFFIX; her beautiful thick pelt |
[attr="class","appOOC"]
| Blithe | |
| AGE | PRONOUNS |
| TIME ZONE | CONTACT |
[attr="class","appOOCfield"]Notes go here. For characters after your first you only need to include your user tag. | |
