Post by » sorrow « on Apr 16, 2009 19:41:41 GMT -5
[/i] More tears fell and dampened the ground underneath. "I love my Clan, and I will do anything for it." Was all she responded. Sorrowcall had to strain his ears to hear now. "I must go, but remember I love you, I always will." She laughed her familiar, lovely laugh. "Oh, that sounds formal and so over-used. Oh well. Goodbye, Sorrowcall. I love you..." The voice.. it was gone. A light orange, very faded, almost invisible mist circled around Sorrowcall, then rised and dissolved. She was truly gone, to StarClan for eternal rest. Would he see her again, when it was his own time?sorrowcall!
you don't know me
so don't you dare think to judge me
OOC:
HAHA... WHAT TO CALL ME? Sorrow; please! =D
I ALSO PLAY... Just Sorrowcall, but I'm sure there is going to be a few more (:
CONTACT? n/a
BIC:
KNOWN AS Sorrowcall
LIVED A TOTAL OF 23 moons; a young warrior.
RESPECTED AS A Tom <33
TRUE HABITAT IN TRuNKCLAN.
THE RANK OF A Warrior
THIS IS ME.
Sorrowcall's personality seems to revolve around his name. He's pretty quiet and talks to himself, quite often. Usually he'll keep to himself, only speaking when he wants to- truthfully, no one could ever make him. Sorrowcall would die for his clan; die protecting it with his life. Actually, Sorrowcall isn't much of a fighter; he won't do much if he's teased. He'd much rather be hunting than fighting in a battle any day, any time. His favorite prey would be a vole, firstly because they're very tasty and secondly because they're fun to catch, quite a race and energizing movement.
Unfortunately, Sorrowcall is scarred. An unneeded death happened; one that will give him nightmares for possibly the rest of his life. On the outside, he's actually quite hard to get through to. He only truly wants to be loved and have friends. Sometimes he can be very snappy, weary, and suspicious. Meanwhile, on the inside, he'd love to be caring and kind, and very gentle. His friends and if ever, his mate only see this side of him. Even once in a while some cats who he has gotten to known very well will experience this. Otherwise, you can forget it. Sorrowcall likes to be alone, though not always. He'll often spend the whole day out, only coming into camp when he's needed or for Clan meetings called by leader or deputy. However, if he ever got an apprentice- he'd try to warm up on him or her. He'd do his best to train him, although Sorrowcall knows it'll be a while before he's ever considered for an apprentice. After all, who knows if he's fully trusted as a warrior of TrunkClan yet? It hasn't been that long.
LOOKS AREN'T EVERYTHING.
A ruffled pelt of depressing dark grey surrounds Sorrowcall's flank. It's never perfectly clean, for Sorrowcall isn't exactly the best at doing that. However, it's never usually all the way dirty and hideous-looking. His eyes are a vibrant orange-yellow citrus color, which looks great with his dark grey pelt. Sorrowcall has long legs, which makes him seem taller than he really his. Just like his legs, Sorrowcall's tail is very long, however it is also quite bushy. Above his nose, there is a small patch of light, silvery grey- a bit darker than the tattoo on his right forearm's thigh. There is another patch of this color on his chest, but it is only a small fraction of fur.
Many parts of Sorrowcall's fur has different colors. On his left side of his muzzle, there is a brownish color that looks almost grey. On his left flank, there is a tinge of that same brownish color. His belly is a darker version of the brownish color on his muzzle and left flank. It is more of a tree bark color, a darker brown, but still some grey tinge in it. Sorrowcall is kind of annoyed at these mixed colors, but other cats don't really seem to notice it- or if they do, they don't really care. Overall, Sorrowcall has a build put inbetween medium and large, long legs, and a mostly-grey pelt.
THE MARKING OF A FULL WARRIOR.
Sorrowcall's tattoo is near his right forearm, right on or above the thigh, and it's actually a light, silvery grey. It is a simple, not very detailed tattoo of a tree trunk (representing his clan) and roots. There is also a single branch with no leaves on it. Sorrowcall believes the tree trunk with roots binds him to his clan, and the branch with no leaves represents himself, Sorrowcall- sorrow. Because if you leave about it, when trees have no leaves it can be very depressing and full of sorrow. Of course, this may not be the tattoo's exact meaning, but Sorrowcall doesn't really matter.
AND SO THIS IS THE PAST...
Sorrowcall was born to a sickly mother; who was on the brink of dieing. She was so sick that Sorrowcall was the only survivor of three young kits. In fact, her mother died not too long after Sorrowcall was born, not long at all. Sorrowcall's father was so furious and saddened that he named his son a horrible name: Sorrowkit. Little did his father know that soon his son's whole life would pretty much revolve around his own name. Sorrowkit's father soon dissapeared after about three months of Sorrowkit's life. No one knew where he went; much less did they care. Thankfully, his Clan was there to care for him.
The rest of Sorrowkit's kithood went by pretty quickly. He was raised well, knowing the difference of right and wrong. He played, he had fun. Everything that a kithood had for him. Soon, he became an apprentice- obviously named Sorrowpaw; what else could he be named? His mentor trained him well and hard, if not then just a bit overdone. Anything that Sorrowpaw did wasn't enough, until he neared the ending of his apprenticeship. Sorrowpaw gained more skills and excelled in everything needed for being a warrior. Not much else to say about that, for once it was time- he became a full warrior of TrunkClan.
His Clan was proud for him, especially his adoptive mother, Dawnflame. The newly-named Sorrowcall did his required ritual and everything was back to normal. For a while. In a battle, his respective mother did all she could for TrunkClan. She fought; she protected. It was enough. It was too much. Dawnflame was found dead in the battle field, torn apart by scars. Her mourning ritual was quiet and full of sorrow- Sorrowcall was torn apart. Nothing could cure him for his loss of his family; for there was not anything left of his family. But still, Sorrowcall carried on- he knew it was what Dawnflame would've wanted; what she still wanted.
ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE
Setting; TrunkClan territory, after a battle- Dawnflame's death
Dizziness. Blackness, so confused. The tom's head spun as he looked about the battlefield. A couple of bodies lay on the ground, but most of the opposing enemy. Wait, no! Could it be? A familiar silver body lay on the ground, bright blue eyes dim but open. His heart raced as he leaped forward, hoping it wasn't- it just couldn't. The battle was so very gruesome, unexpected. No. It was. A tear leaked down from his eye, and he breathed in the rest. In, out, in, out- deeply, now. He reminded himself to breath. A paw reached out and prodded the limp body. "Dawnflame?" He found himself whispering. "Hush, young one. It is time now." Was that in his head? Sorrowcall looked around frantically, then back at the dead she-cat.
"Yes, my kit, I am already gone. But I rest with you always, I did what I could. And I expect the same of you." The voice sounded softly. But where? It was obviously of Dawnflame's, but the body wasn't moving. But she was dead, dead as ever. Oh, no no. Why her, not him? No one liked him anyways. "Please, Dawnflame, why? It's true, oh it's so true. No one wants me here, they think my father's a traitor. But I know nothing of him- so was he really? Sorrowcall murmured. Another tear soaked into the ground. "No!" The voice snapped angrily. "I will not answer to that behavior, Sorrowcall! Do not ever think like that, and oh- do I mean it!" Then the voice began to soften again.
"Sorrowcall, who really cares if they do? You belong there, you are my kit. Your real mother's, and of course of your father. Like you, no one really knew your father. Oh, was he misunderstood and quiet. But your mother fell for him so easily, and never looked back. She loved him, and she knew well. She would have never asked for love from a traitor or a murderer. And of who, exactly? Well, I don't know. But as I said, she knew well- she would never have been a mate with a traitor. Or, if she knew." Now Sorrowcall knew it was Dawnflame. The familiar voice was the same, though dimming. He didn't want her to go; oh would he miss her! "Alright, Dawnflame. I will remember. But why, why would you do this? Fight to your death?"
Sorrowcall collapsed onto the ground, tired and weary. He was drained of all his tears, though he was still mourning. His muzzle was buried into Dawnflame's fur, longing for one more night with the lovely she-cat. But it was never come, for she was gone. She's gone. She is gone. Oh, Dawnflame. Gone, gone gone... It repeated over and over inside his mind. When would it stopped? Sorrowcall couldn't stand it anymore. He sat up, and stayed there until moon began to conquer the night. TrunkClan would wish to mourn, have the proper ritual. And would they have it. Sorrowcall straightened himself up, and licked his pack for comfort. Goodbye, Dawnflame. Sorrowcall repeated, dragging her dead, cold body over the uneven ground to the camp he knew so well. Finally, he arrived. And not too soon. He called out for his leader, just wanting to sleep. More cats came in silence, carrying Dawnflame's body to a better spot for mourning. Never once did he leave her precious body, not even when his leader came. Sorrowcall slept there and his Clan left him there, respecting his decision to sleep once more with his adoptive mother. In the morning, he would tend to Dawnflame's body and would help the elders bury it. "StarClan, I hope you have received her well... with no difficulties." Sorrowcall sent a silent prayer, and then the world around him spun, and blackened- he fell into a dreamless sleep.
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