Granite {Luna, in other words}

Joined Sep 20 2011
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20 years old
In your face
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Warrior Cats
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An ugly, fierce storm on paws. Her dark, long, thin fur is forever matted into stinking clumps, her round orange orbs of eyes always ablaze with lethal rage. If her squashed face ever turns to stare challengingly at you, you're in trouble.

Born into a group of rogues amongst the most nefarious of nature, the ugly runt of the litter - named Granite in honour of her hard, black heart and unattractive lank coat - always only had one desire - to be the very best (or worst, whichever way you look at it) out of them all. Never was she favoured among her siblings or treated with the same respect as a fellow killing machine. Killing was all she had. Soon, despite being the most ferocious murderer amongst the rogues, she knew she would never be anything if she stayed where she was.... so she left them, and travelled far until her strong paws were torn and dead, her body almost starved. Finally, she found somewhere she could almost belong. Of course, she knew the clans were nearby, and it was likely that other rogues or loners lived in the area. But it was somewhere she could survive alone.

Nowadays, although away from the group of rogues that treated her with such disgust, Granite is harder than ever. An older cat now (but still as tiny), she has grown to hate the clans for how difficult they made her life to live. She only has the smallest patch of territory for herself, while the clans roam as they wish in theirs; with all the best hunting grounds and shelter. Infact, she hasn't just grown to hate the clans, but any other rogues or loners infecting her grounds too. But if any of these cats she despises so much crosses her lines, they'd better watch out. This battle-hardened rogue is the fiercest of them all, with strength and skill like no other, despite her paws being slower due to her age.

Under her shaggy, flithy coat of dark grey fur lies a thin, malnourished body. Granite was trained to kill cats; not pathetic pieces of prey. It's rare that she can catch anything. She stalks like a kit with a broken leg and her senses are tuned only for the sound of pawsteps approaching and the scent of enemy cats. And if she can't catch anything? Crowfood is sufficent - anything to keep her alive.


Burntfeather is a long-legged, slender ShadowClan she cat, with eyes the shade of a cold winter sky, a pelt the auburn-red colour of a fox's, and her ears are tipped in dark brown - and she has the attitude of a fox, too. Sly, clever, sneering and arrogant, this nasty warrior is not someone that most cats could stand - she considers herself far above her clanmates, and even if any tried to befriend her, Burntfeather would not think them worthy of her. It is the same story with toms wishing to be her mate - not that anyone would probably ever want to.

In battle, her moves match her personality - always quick and clever, yet because of her arrogance, she tends to underestimate her enemy, which can be to their advantage.

However, despite her cold and sarcastic exterior, inside the hard, black shell of her heart there is a soft part, a weakness for those in suffering and pain. Burntfeather was raised by a foster mother - her mother (the only cat Burntfeather ever really loved) died from a horrific wound in battle, and the echoes of agonised yowls ring in her mind whenever she sees a dying cat.

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TWCS is almost complete, and is also now open for Roleplay! Though we are still on Hiatus - that is, I'm still busy editing pages and adding new ones - you can all now join or re-join with characters you had before we became a canon-based site. I apologize for any inconvenience, and If you have any questions, feel free to message me about it!



ThunderClan: The skies are clear with plenty of sunshine, and prey is scurrying to get to fallen acorns and leaves.

ShadowClan: A biting wind chills any cat outside of the camp, and frost is beginning to appear on the marshy ground.

RiverClan: The sun shines brightly, warming the river waters and pelts of cats.

WindClan: Though the sky is empty blue, a freezing wind tears across the open moorland.

Season: Leaf-Fall


Toms; 4 She-Cats; 4

ThunderClan; 1, 0

ShadowClan; 1, 0

RiverClan; 1, 1

WindClan; 1, 2

Loners; 0, 0

Rogues; 0, 1