Post by hedgiefish on Jul 21, 2011 19:49:56 GMT -6
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RANK: Apprentice
ALLIANCE: Hillclan
APPEARANCE: Small, white short furred she-cat with ginger patches and golden eyes.
PERSONALITY:
Prankster! -Trouble is Nettlepaw’s middle name...and her first, and probably her last. From the moment her eyes opened and her first shaky pawsteps took place, she’s been a pawful. It’s as if there is some bone in her body, some part of her brain, that causes her to mess things up. She enjoys it, fooling around with everyone’s heads and causing general mischief. Alone, with a partner, and even in the spur of the moment, there’s always a prank waiting to happen. Nettlepaw likes to see the reactions of her “friends”, her unsuspecting victims and clanmates. Needless to say, she’s a little addicted.
Energetic! It may just be part of the job as the clan’s resident class clown, or maybe it’s just genetics, but Nettlepaw has, what seems like, a never-ending supply of energy. Her eyes seem to spark with it, her tail twitches with it, and she’s practically unable to stand still. It rarely seems to cause her a problem, even if it makes going to sleep just a little unbearable. When sleeping, she doesn’t seem to stop moving, and any of her denmates might be prone to a paw or a tail in the face at any given time.
Devoted~ Everyone needs at least one redeeming quality, and for Nettlepaw, it’s her devotion. Right now, it’s primary focus is on having fun, in any way possible. Even if that means more trouble than it’s probably worth. Maybe, with the right amount of guidance, it can be focused on something more productive, but that’s a daunting task indeed. It’s a lucky thing Nettlepaw’s still young. There’s plenty of time for a change. She doesn’t give up on anything, as long as it interests her, and will poke and prod at the object of her obsession until it seems right, just perfect. So maybe, she’s also a bit of a perfectionist. There’s nothing wrong with that.
Social! Never has this ball of energy ever been afraid to say hello. Maybe it makes her seem a little overbearing, and certainly some might think she’s nosy…All she wants, really, is a friend. Maybe two..maybe seven. If she had her way, Nettlepaw would be friends with the whole wide world!
Thought it’s probably a good thing she doesn’t get her way.
REASON FOR NAME: Nettle for her white and ginger coat. Paw for well....She’s an apprentice. Probably don’t have to explain that half, but I try to be thorough.
FAMILY:
Brightbelly-Mother, NPC, 44 Moons
Flametail-Father, NPC, 50 Moons
Yarrowpaw-Brother, NPC, 6 Moons
Russetpaw-Brother, NPC, 6 Moons
HISTORY:
Nettlekit
Brightbelly was never the brightest cat in her clan. One of those cats entirely destined to...not do much. She liked kits a little more than some, and was constantly fawning over the multitude of kits and younger cats in her clan. She never, really paid attention to anyone older than her, or even cats her own age. So it was a surprise that she ended up in the nursery with the kits of a tom six moons her senior. How could two cats who had never looked at each other for more than a few short moments end up with a growing family? Neither of the two were telling, and maybe it had been an accident.
Whatever it was, Brightbelly gave birth to a litter of three ginger-pelted kits, each with varying amounts of white. Yarrowkit and Nettlekit were nearly clones, their only difference being size. Yarrowkit was obviously larger than his dainty littermate, but both had the white-and-ginger patterns their father was famous for. Russetkit was noticeably darker, his coat being a mostly dark ginger, with white paws and a muzzle the color of snow. He was also the largest of the three. From the moment they opened their eyes, each was very much the individual. Yarrowkit was a thinker, friendly and obviously very bright. He had a knack for play-fights with his siblings and would one day make an excellent warrior. Russetkit was more subdued, reluctant to be pulled into any schemes and games the other two came up with. Nettlekit....Oh, Nettlekit. She had barely taken one step out of the nursery and she had already landed herself in a bit of trouble. Nearly tripping up any cat is a bad idea, but sending an elder tumbling really isn’t smart. Yet, she found it so much fun and spent the rest of her first day outside getting under everyone’s paws....on purpose. Brightbelly, too busy with...well nothing, never really took the time to discipline her rowdy daughter, and no one else seemed to have the strength.
Eventually, her schemes and pranks became more and more...exhausting, at least for those on the receiving end. A couple complaints were made, but by that time Nettlekit was on her way to becoming an apprentice. She was her mentor’s problem now.
And what a problem she is turning out to be.
RP EXAMPLE:
Maybe this wasn't the absolute best place to make a home in, but she was desperate, and it was secluded...and after a few run-ins with territorial canines, she was wary of settling down anywhere too populated. Something about packs, but what did she know? She had never been given an explanation, was always just chased off by some pompous know-it-all. Was it her fault they all seemed to live in such nice places, full of crevice-y hiding spots? They had all sorts of nice nic-naks, too, and she always gathered a couple good things before being found out. Certainly, a pack with rules and static locations..well, that was not the setting she needed. Always on the move, always. Always running across roads, over and under obstacles, but thankfully, none of those scary car-monsters could hurt her. She didn't even have to run across roads anymore! At her own pace, a leisurely lope, she could cross those fated yellow lines, all dashes and dots and more yellow than even the sun had a right to be.
"Yellow indeed."
Her voice was soft, muffled by the dirt-scuffed, ratted-and-tattered edges bundle in her mouth, the remnants of an old plaid comforter. The whole way home, across the whole darn town at that, it had left a trail of stuffing. Little puffs of white, soon blown off in the summer winds, catching on who-knew-what, like a bread crumb trail. A trail to her humble abode, just recently found a week prior. She'd been kicked out of a nice little hideaway, tucked amongst rocks and trees and whatnot, and had been forced out in the middle of the night. To find somewhere else, somewhere that wouldn't allow even the trickiest intruder to permeate it's barriers. The spaniel slipped under yellow caution tape, the plastic substance tickling the fur along her spine, the comforter still leaking stuffing behind her. Occasionally, it caught on something and all she did was yank until it tore away. So maybe someone could follow her if they wanted, what with the obvious trail she was weaving, but who would want to follow a gimpy (Her limp was acting up today.) little thing like her? All she had was a blanket.
Eventually, a particular pile of pipes and metal bars came into sight, the rusted metal already flowing with random odds and ends. A plastic knife, half-melted. A warped piece of wood. What looked to be like half of a skateboard poking out from one of the higher pipes. A tire, which she sprinted towards. With a precision known only to nesting birds and rodents, King poked, prodded and tucked the ratty plaid into that tire, something the two-toned spaniel had found purely by chance. The way she had placed it, after much shoving and grunting and groaning, had it sheltered from the elements.
"Perfect!"
Nimbly, and you would have sworn she was part squirrel..or mountain goat, the way she climbed, Kingston pulled herself up the the dangling skateboard half, held down by a rock. Slowly, the semi-nomadic female lowered herself onto the gripped wood, front paws dangling over the edge, her head resting with her brick-red nose as close to the edge as possible. Oh yes, it was nice up here. a palace fit for a king.
Err, a Kingston.
PASSWORD: [admin edit][/size][/blockquote]
