Smokestorm- Fireclan

name, Smokestorm
nicknames, Smoky
age, 36 moons
gender, male
clan, Fireclan
rank, warrior
blood status, pureblood
mentor, n/a

fur color, silver tabby
eye color, green-blue
distinguising features, jet black tail tip and paws and short legs.
picture,

likes, chatting with the clans, hunting, swimming(secretly to his clan),
dislikes, medicine, moss, and oak trees
strengths, climbing and swimming
weaknesses, running, and stealth
relationship status, single
sexuality, straight
overall personality, Smoky is a very calm and relaxed cat, when threated he normally turns to flight instead of fight. he likes to have a good time with his clan, and is very wary to other cats/outsiders. He likes to climb, and swim, but he keeps the swimming hidden from his clan for fear of being jugded. He isn't good at running because of his abnormal short legs.

mother, Rosetooth
father, Thymetail
siblings, Ivyfall, stillborn
others of importance, n/a
overall history, Smokestorm lived a peaceful life. Like any other kit in the clan, he was born to two loving parents. His sister, had complications at birth, but was soon revived by the clan medicine cat. His brother was not so lucky. When he was told as he grew older of how his brother died, he began to hate medicines and anything medicine cat related.

As he grew into his apprentice stage of his life. His mentor lived and trained him to his full adulthood. During mid-apprentice both of his parent's died in a fatal fox accident. Smokestorm vowed that every fox he came across, he would kill.

As a fresh warrior to the clan, him and his sister lived a happy life as much as they could, and are serving their clan to the day.

other,

rp sample:

Smokestorm ran as fast as he could through the forest. His short legs trying all they could to move his large body. Silver and black flashed through bushes and underneath branches to get back to the camp, where Ivyfall was awaiting his arrivial. He stopped right before he ran into a tree branch to sniff the air. Vole could be sencted from where he was. He follwed the senct and crouched down lower and lower as he went, and soon, the vole came into view.

The silver tabby crouched down into the hunters crouch and shook his hind, he slowly crawled out of the bushes as he leaped ontop of the vole and bit into the neck over and over, and shook the vole, until he heard a snap! and the warm blood flow into his mouth, and dribble down his chin.

Successful of the kill he made, he buried it and would come back for it later.