ocean// of \\storms

[K.]

Name: Vehementsea
Age: 49 moons
Gender: Tom
Desired Position: Warrior
Short Description:

Utterly massive gray tom with sea foam eyes and a rough personality.

Description:

Just imagine; the waters writhe and lash out in fury again the vaporous bars encages it. The skies dance and flicker with life and death taking a dangerous tango with every boom and thrash of the elements of storm, rain hails down, streaking the world with silver. Then you're drowning. Vehemence means anger, fury, hatred, roughness, and not only does this describe his unruly personality, but Vehementsea's pelt, handsome if his face isn't. The color of freshly fallen soot from the cinder stove grasp his unbelievably massive frame. Big bones, they say. Big cat. Huge cat. Streaks of silver rain drizzle down his dark gray sides, decorating the warrior with tabby stripes. Vehementsea's eyes, though a pretty color in the least, are nothing attractive, for all the hatred, fury, and pure ignorance pulsing through them like veins in hues like deep sea foam green, almost pale blue, but with sparks of verde here and there, turning the color from aqua to spring green, but they are narrowed into accusing triangles at all times, staring down infuriors with a burning light in them. They strike fear into the young and the old, the weak and cowardly. Perhaps that's their purpose.

Personality:

All the fury and flame of the lashing ocean is tunneled into the posed frame of this tom, making him quake with might and power. He knows that's his position, he has respect; he's earned it. Only top toms, those ones with the handsome face and all but charming roughness that gets him what he wants, yeah, thats the type of tom that gets respect. Chivalry is dead, they don't need knights and frill, they need to win. That's what Vehementsea will do, and if that means killing kittens, well then bring it on, because he's as close to heartless as a StarClan believer gets, as long as ShroudClan benefits, then send him and see you win. Even rough with his clanmates, Vehementsea isn't one to be screwed over, or physical pain will be dealt. He'll easily take the punishment, even though he may as well could kill the punisher, but the day his punishment is out, another fight will be picked, and in his eyes, won. Even the loser is a winner as long as it's him, cause no one's thingyier than he. But just because he's a little headstrong doesn't mean he's dumb, because Vehementseas wits are sharp and honed, and even if he knows he's wrong, he'll try to outwit with snide, painful remarks and lies, nothing hurts more than a snag in the ego, and it isn't ognna be his getting snagged.

Experience:

Kithood:

What was this highly abbrasive like as a cute adorable kitten? Hardly different, but much more idiotic. Vehementkit would do just about anything to be the best of the best out of all the other denmates. He won often, he was big even then, and strong, too. So many punishments were dealt, he knew his mother hated his guts and that he was her little disappointment by the time he was a young apprentice. This only fueled the fire, thanks Shimmersun.

Apprenticeship:

None other than the ledgendary and equally thingyy Mr. Swarthyshard mentored this young, fiery tom. His attitude was ready to learn and eager, but well hid, and Swarthyshard was practically his mirror, bringing him to every battle they could, and Vehementpaw was brilliant, so Swarthyshard concentrated solely on battle training, fight tactics, and practiced by picking fights with clanmates. This slightly hindered Vehementpaw's hutning abilities, but as soon as he realized he wasn't as good as everyone else, he secretly trained by himself. One had to admit his was determined and strong, a good weapon, even if he was a little dangerous or uncontrolable. By the time he was eleven moons, Shimmersun died, and Vehementpaw didn't mourn, appalling everyone. Quite a few fights were taken in after that while he was insulted and called heartless, but he soon adopted the title and it sunk in; he liked it.

Warrior:

Hormones struck at last, perhaps a little delayed, but that was to his benefit, not to distract his training. Risingmoon, only the most glorious she-cat that dwelled in ShroudClan, caught his eye, he wanted her to be his, his, so bad it hurt him. Pain wasn't good. Pain was not good. He went for her, and she rejected him, plan backfired, she didn't want him back, and that hurt more than anything, he almost murdered her brutally one night, but was stopped in time by an evening patrol, and swicthed back to probation, apprenticeship, worse, kithood. Vehementkit. Ew. Risingmoon recovered quickly, and never gave him a glance beside a disgusted glares of venom. He hated her so bad, eery other night was a threat, another threat, attempt at assault, et cetera. Finally, he worked his way back to full warriorship, and began a stab at regular life of a tom who isn't an not a very nice person. It was nice. He gained respect and soon she-cats wanted him. Not the other way around, life was good, now his only goal is leadership.

Picture:

[[dash away from the waves]]

Other:

=3

[Raid. &]

Handsome kitty. *kisses*

Accepted =]