Post by aspenheart on Dec 13, 2017 2:16:00 GMT
General
Name: Smallnose
Birthday: 8 Oct, 2005
Gender: She-cat
Clan:
PebbleClan
Rank: Elder
Breed: Mixed breed
Physical
Height:
9 in
Weight:
9 lbs
Coat Description:
A greying tortoiseshell.
Eye Color:
Green
Other Information: Scars litter her flanks and shoulders. The one she is the most proud of is a very prominent bite mark on her thigh.
History: When Smallkit was born, she had no plans for her life. Not many newborn kits do, of course. When she was just a moon old, her father died. She vowed then that she would never let anyone else leave her. When her brother was carried off by a hawk, it sent her into a deep grief. Her only comfort was in an elder of her clan, who told her stories of the stars and the ancestors who watched them. She was two and a half moons old when she stopped to gaze at the starlight for the night. Smallkit was up all night, whispering little prayers to the sky. When she was three moons old, she vowed to do whatever she could to serve her clan. Whenever she received her apprentice name, Smallpaw, everyone told her that she would do well. Smallpaw was angry, because they told that to every apprentice. She, however, actually would. The second moon of her apprenticeship, her mentor was killed by hunters. Smallpaw dragged his body back to camp once it was safe to, and she was the one who sat vigil from the moment they returned to the moment they took him to be buried. She saw death around her, and she hated it. Her next mentor kept underestimating her, and she kept demanding to be treated like an equal. The she-cat beat her apprentice within a whisker's length of her life, but Smallpaw excelled from then on. She was left with scars, but then she was the clan's best fighter for a while. Then, she demanded to be taught to hunt properly. She missed everything she stalked for a quarter moon, and then she was the clan's best hunter for a while. She would focus on something, fail for a while, and then excel. Smallpaw earned her warrior name a moon earlier than she had expected to. Smallnose visited the Mooncave that day and swore to StarClan and every cat that had died from her birth until then that she would avenge them and join their ranks happily. In her eighth moon of warriorship, a fox slipped into the caves. It was chaos. Every warrior was after it, but they were mostly out. Smallnose threw herself into the thick of the battle, earning her proudest scar -- the bite mark on her thigh. she killed it alone, and was in the medicine den for the next moon. In that time, she realized that she was, despite her best efforts to fool herself, mortal. She began to collect knowledge. Everything she could, she would learn. Every story, every whisper from the sky. Some nights she would sneak out and sit in the Mooncave, listening to the whispers in her heart. Some stories she made up, others she adapted, but she learned them all. It was the loss of her sight that ultimately sent her to the elder's den, where she made the last vow of her life -- she would make sure everyone heard the stories of their ancestors.
Personality: Smallnose is determined. Some might even call her stubborn, but the right word remains -- determined. She is opinionated and you'd be hard pressed to make her admit she's wrong (unless she actually is). She refuses to eat unless the kits have been fed, and always makes sure warriors are treated for illness before her. Despite being almost twelve seasons old, she's still more than willing to play with kits or try and warn apprentices from foolishness. If the weather is particularly nice, she sometimes goes out, but on the rare occasion she strays from her den, it's to visit the Mooncave. Smallnose wants to make an impact on another kit just like the one that was made on her all those moons ago. Her memory is still as sharp as ever, and she doesn't plan on dying any time soon.
Image:
IMAGE SOURCE HERE[/div]
General
Name: Tornpelt
Birthday: Jan 2, 2007
Gender: Tom
Clan:
DogClan
Rank: Elder
Breed: Mixed breed
Physical
Height:
12 inches
Weight:
15 lbs
Coat Description: A bright red tom with white patches.
Eye Color:
Amber
Other Information: Heavily scarred. Notched ears, blinded eyes, a broken tail. Bad shape.
History: Sunkit was born on a harsh Leafbare day when his namesake was nowhere to be found. He couldn't leave the nursery until he was three moons old for fear of freezing, and in that time, he grew very bored. His favorite pastime was playfighting, but after that was pestering queens to tell him stories. Unlike Smallnose, his passions were always fighting and storytelling, in that order. Once he got out, he began pestering the elders. Then, when they ran out, the leader! After that, he focused mostly on fighting. He was big, and muscular. He was good for fighting. His mentor told him as much when he was apprenticed. Sunpaw trained as eagerly as any other apprentice would have, but it troubled him to watch his mentor constantly off doing things that Sunpaw knew were wrong. Thie tom was scared to tell anyone, for fear of what his mentor would do, but the warrior should have known better. His mentor was breaking the warrior code, and taunting StarClan. To help himself sleep, Sunpaw started murmuring quiet stories to himself through the days. Usually, he'd think over them in the nights. He started to have dreams of strange cats in fields of flowers, who tempted him to a dark shadow of trees. Sunpaw refused, and then understood that he needed to tell someone what his mentor was doing. He reported it to the deputy, and his mentor was exiled. Three moons later, Sunpaw became Sunstride, and he couldn't have been happier. One day, when the tom was on a trod through the territory like he tended to nowadays, he found an odd scent. He wanted to go back to camp to fetch help, but... it only seemed to be one cat. Then, he found his mentor. Now a rogue, and seething with anger at his apprentice. The cat was attacked, and two more started to fight on the rogue's side. Sunstride was nearly killed, and had to remain with the medicine cat for two moons. Because of the scars he received, he requested he get a new name. Afterwards, he was able to resume training. He mentored himself, and even had a litter of kits, but when it came time for him to retire he was glad to. Old bones ached when you worked them too hard. Now, he rests all day in his den, telling stories to younger cats with kitlike grins on his muzzle.
Personality: Tornpelt is not the most intelligent cat you've met. He is actually quite dull -- but he has a knack for remembering. However, he is the single most excitable cat you have ever met in your life. Tornpelt would run to the stars and back ten times over in order to learn a new story. Since he's too old to fight now, stories are all he cares about. He's now mostly fat, and eats plenty. He'll be the first to admit that he's a bit greedy, and that his prey intake ought to be watched or he'll eat everything. Tornpelt does wait patiently for the day StarClan takes him, but he's in no real hurry to go. Still, he'd rather the medicine cat didn't waste herbs on him.
Image:
IMAGE SOURCE HERE[/div]
General
Name: Rockheart
Birthday:
July 18, 2002
Gender: Tom
Clan:
CreekClan
Rank: Elder
Breed: Mixed breeds are encouraged for clan cats and loners
Physical
Height: 15 in
Weight: 13 lbs
Coat Description: A grey tabby tom with white chest and paws.
Eye Color: Hazel
Other Information: Missing half his tail.
History: Rockheart was born as Greykit to a perfectly normal CreekClan family, but one thing was quickly discovered -- he was a drypaw. He despised water, and was absolutely terrified of it. The kit could hardly be coaxed into drinking it! In his apprenticeship, various cruel methods were attempted but nothing worked. About a moon into his apprenticeship, he was out doing the usual apprentice chores such as collecting moss when he heard a firestick go off. Why had he been so clumsy? It was hunting season, after all. The next shot went off quite soon after, and he felt a blossoming pain. It sent him flying into the water, and two more shots went off but whenever the twoleg came to collect him, it seemed just as terrified of the water as he was. Following some sort of instinct, he returned to camp through the water, staining it red. The medicine cat was horrified, but they tended him as best they could. By some miracle, he survived -- though they could not remove the pebble from his body. In the five moons he was stuck in the medicine den, he learned about history and heritage. Once he had recovered, he was determined to continue his training. Three moons later, he became Rockheart of CreekClan, admired for his bravery and determination. The pebble in his chest hindered his breathing, and thus he entered the elder's den far earlier than any cat had expected, but they all agreed that he deserved the rest after what he'd survived.
Personality: Of course, Rockheart was born a coward. It took him a serious effort to learn courage, and every time he's asked, he is sure to inform someone that yes, he was terrified, and all he wanted to do was lay there and die. However, the tom had known it wasn't an option, and he did the only other thing he could. That, he tells them, is what courage is. He is also known for perseverance, but to those who are friendly with him, they'd be more likely to call it stubbornness. Rockheart's warriorship came with a fair deal of him deciding that he didn't need to take orders from anyone because of what he'd overcome, and this arrogance carried well into his eldership until he finally learned to get over himself.
Image:
IMAGE SOURCE HERE[/div]
General
Name: Crowfang
Birthday: August 8th, 2007
Gender: She-cat
Clan: ThrushClan
Rank: Elder
Breed: Mixed breed
Physical
Height: 10 in
Weight: 9.8 lbs
Coat Description: Black.
Eye Color: Green eyes
Other Information: A bob tail and small paws.
History: Crowkit was born on a miserably hot day in Greenleaf, and many thought that the tiny she-kit wouldn't survive the heat. She had no siblings, and her father saw this as a bad omen. Miraculously, she began to grow quickly and easily recovered from the painful heat of the day. She carried well into her apprenticeship, but that was when the trouble started. She would return from training covered with cuts and bruises. The medicine cat never knew how to confront the poor she-cat. As Crowpaw grew, she became more timid but a better and better fighter. One day, her mentor was discovered on the outskirts of the territory with his throat slashed. It was blamed on a rogue, but if you were to ask any of the clan in private, they were glad to see the ginger tom go. Crowpaw instantly became more lively, and a generally happy apprentice. Her warriorship came a moon later, she was named Crowfang of ThrushClan. A moon later, she had a litter of kits, but refused to tell who the father was. From it was born a too-small tortoiseshell and a black tom. Petalkit and Smokekit, she called them. Petalkit lived barely two days past her birth, and Smokekit was stillborn. It tore her apart, and she was thrown into a deep sickness. One day, she was found in the territory, barely living. She was brought back to the medicine den, and they discovered she had been bitten by a snake. Thankfully, she survived. Spending a moon in the medicine den, she began to recover from her illness. Then, she learned of the joys of storytelling. She learned everything there was to learn, and accepted it all with an open heart. She remains the youngest elder of these four.
Personality: Crowfang tends to be quiet if she isn't telling a story. Kits are her entire world after the death of her own, and despite having moved to the elder's den, she would jump in front of a thousand firesticks to protect her clan. This is less a matter of bravery and more a matter of getting even. After her sickness was gone, she became a happier cat. Crowfang was always the first to tell a hungry apprentice to take her meal, or to inform a queen that StarClan would watch over her. She remains the cool, yet devoutly religious grandma of the clan.
Image:
IMAGE SOURCE HERE[/div]
General
Name: Lucky
Birthday: Jan 8, 1779
Gender: Tom
Clan: StarClan
Rank: N/A
Breed: Mixed breed
Physical
Height: 11 in
Weight: 9 lbs
Coat Description: A medium-haired brown tabby tom
Eye Color: Amber
Other Information: A deep cut along his throat that always seems to bleed.
History: Lucky was born a loner. After all, in those days, there were no clans. When the forest began to fill, it was a lawless wasteland. Fights would break over the most ridiculous of things. One night, with a full moon, every cat met where five great oaks grew. When the fighting broke out, Lucky, at hardly eleven moons, was killed. The first to die. The first star in the sky. He shone brightly, looking sadly upon the cats below as many others came to join him. In that first night, Silverpelt was filled, and they knew it was time to put a stop to it. Lucky and four other cats, with many more behind them, descended to warn the clans. They showed them horrible visions of the forest running with blood, and asked them if they wanted this for their kits. Thus, Sky, Wind, River, Thunder, and Shadow split to form their clans. It was many, many moons later whenever the lovers split, but Lucky followed them. StarClan followed the other warriors, but he was the first to die -- and the first to understand.
Personality: Lucky has the best interest of any cat he meets at heart. Despite this, he cannot always intervene. After all, he's been dead for more moons than any cat could count. His most defining trait is his sense of justice. What happened to the lovers had been a great injustice in his eyes -- whose business was it to deny love? Who had the right? After all, his death had surely not been a meaningless one. After all, they had been torn from their lives in a war. A meaningless battle of bloodshed. His opinions of fighting are very low. He has been in StarClan long enough that he barely has enough form to appear in anyone's dreams, but if he gets the chance he is always more than glad to watch from the sidelines.
Image:
IMAGE SOURCE HERE[/div]
syd
Name: Smallnose
Birthday: 8 Oct, 2005
Gender: She-cat
Clan:
PebbleClan
Rank: Elder
Breed: Mixed breed
Physical
Height:
9 in
Weight:
9 lbs
Coat Description:
A greying tortoiseshell.
Eye Color:
Green
Other Information: Scars litter her flanks and shoulders. The one she is the most proud of is a very prominent bite mark on her thigh.
History: When Smallkit was born, she had no plans for her life. Not many newborn kits do, of course. When she was just a moon old, her father died. She vowed then that she would never let anyone else leave her. When her brother was carried off by a hawk, it sent her into a deep grief. Her only comfort was in an elder of her clan, who told her stories of the stars and the ancestors who watched them. She was two and a half moons old when she stopped to gaze at the starlight for the night. Smallkit was up all night, whispering little prayers to the sky. When she was three moons old, she vowed to do whatever she could to serve her clan. Whenever she received her apprentice name, Smallpaw, everyone told her that she would do well. Smallpaw was angry, because they told that to every apprentice. She, however, actually would. The second moon of her apprenticeship, her mentor was killed by hunters. Smallpaw dragged his body back to camp once it was safe to, and she was the one who sat vigil from the moment they returned to the moment they took him to be buried. She saw death around her, and she hated it. Her next mentor kept underestimating her, and she kept demanding to be treated like an equal. The she-cat beat her apprentice within a whisker's length of her life, but Smallpaw excelled from then on. She was left with scars, but then she was the clan's best fighter for a while. Then, she demanded to be taught to hunt properly. She missed everything she stalked for a quarter moon, and then she was the clan's best hunter for a while. She would focus on something, fail for a while, and then excel. Smallpaw earned her warrior name a moon earlier than she had expected to. Smallnose visited the Mooncave that day and swore to StarClan and every cat that had died from her birth until then that she would avenge them and join their ranks happily. In her eighth moon of warriorship, a fox slipped into the caves. It was chaos. Every warrior was after it, but they were mostly out. Smallnose threw herself into the thick of the battle, earning her proudest scar -- the bite mark on her thigh. she killed it alone, and was in the medicine den for the next moon. In that time, she realized that she was, despite her best efforts to fool herself, mortal. She began to collect knowledge. Everything she could, she would learn. Every story, every whisper from the sky. Some nights she would sneak out and sit in the Mooncave, listening to the whispers in her heart. Some stories she made up, others she adapted, but she learned them all. It was the loss of her sight that ultimately sent her to the elder's den, where she made the last vow of her life -- she would make sure everyone heard the stories of their ancestors.
Personality: Smallnose is determined. Some might even call her stubborn, but the right word remains -- determined. She is opinionated and you'd be hard pressed to make her admit she's wrong (unless she actually is). She refuses to eat unless the kits have been fed, and always makes sure warriors are treated for illness before her. Despite being almost twelve seasons old, she's still more than willing to play with kits or try and warn apprentices from foolishness. If the weather is particularly nice, she sometimes goes out, but on the rare occasion she strays from her den, it's to visit the Mooncave. Smallnose wants to make an impact on another kit just like the one that was made on her all those moons ago. Her memory is still as sharp as ever, and she doesn't plan on dying any time soon.
Image:
IMAGE SOURCE HERE[/div]
General
Name: Tornpelt
Birthday: Jan 2, 2007
Gender: Tom
Clan:
DogClan
Rank: Elder
Breed: Mixed breed
Physical
Height:
12 inches
Weight:
15 lbs
Coat Description: A bright red tom with white patches.
Eye Color:
Amber
Other Information: Heavily scarred. Notched ears, blinded eyes, a broken tail. Bad shape.
History: Sunkit was born on a harsh Leafbare day when his namesake was nowhere to be found. He couldn't leave the nursery until he was three moons old for fear of freezing, and in that time, he grew very bored. His favorite pastime was playfighting, but after that was pestering queens to tell him stories. Unlike Smallnose, his passions were always fighting and storytelling, in that order. Once he got out, he began pestering the elders. Then, when they ran out, the leader! After that, he focused mostly on fighting. He was big, and muscular. He was good for fighting. His mentor told him as much when he was apprenticed. Sunpaw trained as eagerly as any other apprentice would have, but it troubled him to watch his mentor constantly off doing things that Sunpaw knew were wrong. Thie tom was scared to tell anyone, for fear of what his mentor would do, but the warrior should have known better. His mentor was breaking the warrior code, and taunting StarClan. To help himself sleep, Sunpaw started murmuring quiet stories to himself through the days. Usually, he'd think over them in the nights. He started to have dreams of strange cats in fields of flowers, who tempted him to a dark shadow of trees. Sunpaw refused, and then understood that he needed to tell someone what his mentor was doing. He reported it to the deputy, and his mentor was exiled. Three moons later, Sunpaw became Sunstride, and he couldn't have been happier. One day, when the tom was on a trod through the territory like he tended to nowadays, he found an odd scent. He wanted to go back to camp to fetch help, but... it only seemed to be one cat. Then, he found his mentor. Now a rogue, and seething with anger at his apprentice. The cat was attacked, and two more started to fight on the rogue's side. Sunstride was nearly killed, and had to remain with the medicine cat for two moons. Because of the scars he received, he requested he get a new name. Afterwards, he was able to resume training. He mentored himself, and even had a litter of kits, but when it came time for him to retire he was glad to. Old bones ached when you worked them too hard. Now, he rests all day in his den, telling stories to younger cats with kitlike grins on his muzzle.
Personality: Tornpelt is not the most intelligent cat you've met. He is actually quite dull -- but he has a knack for remembering. However, he is the single most excitable cat you have ever met in your life. Tornpelt would run to the stars and back ten times over in order to learn a new story. Since he's too old to fight now, stories are all he cares about. He's now mostly fat, and eats plenty. He'll be the first to admit that he's a bit greedy, and that his prey intake ought to be watched or he'll eat everything. Tornpelt does wait patiently for the day StarClan takes him, but he's in no real hurry to go. Still, he'd rather the medicine cat didn't waste herbs on him.
Image:
IMAGE SOURCE HERE[/div]
General
Name: Rockheart
Birthday:
July 18, 2002
Gender: Tom
Clan:
CreekClan
Rank: Elder
Breed: Mixed breeds are encouraged for clan cats and loners
Physical
Height: 15 in
Weight: 13 lbs
Coat Description: A grey tabby tom with white chest and paws.
Eye Color: Hazel
Other Information: Missing half his tail.
History: Rockheart was born as Greykit to a perfectly normal CreekClan family, but one thing was quickly discovered -- he was a drypaw. He despised water, and was absolutely terrified of it. The kit could hardly be coaxed into drinking it! In his apprenticeship, various cruel methods were attempted but nothing worked. About a moon into his apprenticeship, he was out doing the usual apprentice chores such as collecting moss when he heard a firestick go off. Why had he been so clumsy? It was hunting season, after all. The next shot went off quite soon after, and he felt a blossoming pain. It sent him flying into the water, and two more shots went off but whenever the twoleg came to collect him, it seemed just as terrified of the water as he was. Following some sort of instinct, he returned to camp through the water, staining it red. The medicine cat was horrified, but they tended him as best they could. By some miracle, he survived -- though they could not remove the pebble from his body. In the five moons he was stuck in the medicine den, he learned about history and heritage. Once he had recovered, he was determined to continue his training. Three moons later, he became Rockheart of CreekClan, admired for his bravery and determination. The pebble in his chest hindered his breathing, and thus he entered the elder's den far earlier than any cat had expected, but they all agreed that he deserved the rest after what he'd survived.
Personality: Of course, Rockheart was born a coward. It took him a serious effort to learn courage, and every time he's asked, he is sure to inform someone that yes, he was terrified, and all he wanted to do was lay there and die. However, the tom had known it wasn't an option, and he did the only other thing he could. That, he tells them, is what courage is. He is also known for perseverance, but to those who are friendly with him, they'd be more likely to call it stubbornness. Rockheart's warriorship came with a fair deal of him deciding that he didn't need to take orders from anyone because of what he'd overcome, and this arrogance carried well into his eldership until he finally learned to get over himself.
Image:
IMAGE SOURCE HERE[/div]
General
Name: Crowfang
Birthday: August 8th, 2007
Gender: She-cat
Clan: ThrushClan
Rank: Elder
Breed: Mixed breed
Physical
Height: 10 in
Weight: 9.8 lbs
Coat Description: Black.
Eye Color: Green eyes
Other Information: A bob tail and small paws.
History: Crowkit was born on a miserably hot day in Greenleaf, and many thought that the tiny she-kit wouldn't survive the heat. She had no siblings, and her father saw this as a bad omen. Miraculously, she began to grow quickly and easily recovered from the painful heat of the day. She carried well into her apprenticeship, but that was when the trouble started. She would return from training covered with cuts and bruises. The medicine cat never knew how to confront the poor she-cat. As Crowpaw grew, she became more timid but a better and better fighter. One day, her mentor was discovered on the outskirts of the territory with his throat slashed. It was blamed on a rogue, but if you were to ask any of the clan in private, they were glad to see the ginger tom go. Crowpaw instantly became more lively, and a generally happy apprentice. Her warriorship came a moon later, she was named Crowfang of ThrushClan. A moon later, she had a litter of kits, but refused to tell who the father was. From it was born a too-small tortoiseshell and a black tom. Petalkit and Smokekit, she called them. Petalkit lived barely two days past her birth, and Smokekit was stillborn. It tore her apart, and she was thrown into a deep sickness. One day, she was found in the territory, barely living. She was brought back to the medicine den, and they discovered she had been bitten by a snake. Thankfully, she survived. Spending a moon in the medicine den, she began to recover from her illness. Then, she learned of the joys of storytelling. She learned everything there was to learn, and accepted it all with an open heart. She remains the youngest elder of these four.
Personality: Crowfang tends to be quiet if she isn't telling a story. Kits are her entire world after the death of her own, and despite having moved to the elder's den, she would jump in front of a thousand firesticks to protect her clan. This is less a matter of bravery and more a matter of getting even. After her sickness was gone, she became a happier cat. Crowfang was always the first to tell a hungry apprentice to take her meal, or to inform a queen that StarClan would watch over her. She remains the cool, yet devoutly religious grandma of the clan.
Image:
IMAGE SOURCE HERE[/div]
General
Name: Lucky
Birthday: Jan 8, 1779
Gender: Tom
Clan: StarClan
Rank: N/A
Breed: Mixed breed
Physical
Height: 11 in
Weight: 9 lbs
Coat Description: A medium-haired brown tabby tom
Eye Color: Amber
Other Information: A deep cut along his throat that always seems to bleed.
History: Lucky was born a loner. After all, in those days, there were no clans. When the forest began to fill, it was a lawless wasteland. Fights would break over the most ridiculous of things. One night, with a full moon, every cat met where five great oaks grew. When the fighting broke out, Lucky, at hardly eleven moons, was killed. The first to die. The first star in the sky. He shone brightly, looking sadly upon the cats below as many others came to join him. In that first night, Silverpelt was filled, and they knew it was time to put a stop to it. Lucky and four other cats, with many more behind them, descended to warn the clans. They showed them horrible visions of the forest running with blood, and asked them if they wanted this for their kits. Thus, Sky, Wind, River, Thunder, and Shadow split to form their clans. It was many, many moons later whenever the lovers split, but Lucky followed them. StarClan followed the other warriors, but he was the first to die -- and the first to understand.
Personality: Lucky has the best interest of any cat he meets at heart. Despite this, he cannot always intervene. After all, he's been dead for more moons than any cat could count. His most defining trait is his sense of justice. What happened to the lovers had been a great injustice in his eyes -- whose business was it to deny love? Who had the right? After all, his death had surely not been a meaningless one. After all, they had been torn from their lives in a war. A meaningless battle of bloodshed. His opinions of fighting are very low. He has been in StarClan long enough that he barely has enough form to appear in anyone's dreams, but if he gets the chance he is always more than glad to watch from the sidelines.
Image:
IMAGE SOURCE HERE[/div]
syd