Post by Taxx on Nov 4, 2018 10:22:19 GMT -5
Name: Storkleg
Age: 33 moons
Gender: Tom
Clan: RainClan
Rank: Warrior
Picture:
Description: Storkleg embodies both parts of his name: his fur is soft and snowy white, just like the storks that sometimes are drawn by the river, and his skinny frame, a slender body supported by thin legs, gave him his warrior name. His fur, while a bit on the thin side, is as water resistant as the rest of RainClan’s, shedding water with ease due to the fish that make up his diet.
His appearance is a bit strange- an oddly tapered face with large ears, a lean body with lanky legs and a longer than usual tail. He's a bit undersized as well, not unhealthily so but enough for some to wonder if he's an apprentice or just a smaller-than-average warrior. The only points of color are his pads and nose, which are both pink, and his eyes, which are a curious, almost blue-green shade that can be likened to water.
Description Summary: Small, lean tom with snow-white fur and blue-green eyes
Personality: Storkleg has all the makings of a good warrior: he may never receive praise for standing out in any way, his slight frame making him just a decent fighter, while his white fur sometimes startles fish and prey. His long legs, though, make him a good runner, which is useful for hunting land prey. He prefers fish, however, and seldom cares to try to hunt anything else. He's not afraid to coat himself in mud to make it easier to fish, and a good swim in the river washes it all off quickly enough.
He enjoys company, even if he prefers to not sit where he will breathe in the air the other cat breathes out, or share tongues- any sort of contact aside from casual shoulder or tail brushes will result in him shying away, his obsessive fear of catching something from them keeping him from enjoying contact with his Clanmates. Most are well familiar with his habits by now, and few will push, but with each new litter he goes through it all over again, and he's not above outright fleeing the camp to avoid pesky kits who can't understand he doesn't want them climbing over him.
He's friendly to most, at least, more than willing to talk and work with his Clanmates, more than content to hunt and patrol and do whatever else is required of him, and he's easy enough to get on with. A tad bit of a pushover, he does have some trouble standing up for himself during confrontations, and he'd sooner let a cat believe something of him than speak up and set them straight, only to mope about it later until the incident is addressed or simply forgotten.
History: Storkleg and his brother were born to Cygnetwing and Surgeclaw during the last moons of the civil war. For most of his younger days, he knew nothing about the other camp of RainClan cats that existed- he was raised in the belief that the cats he saw every day were the only true RainClan that existed. Of course he was told all about the other Clans, stories and warnings about the other four told to pass the time and instill a sense of loyalty in the kits.
But of the divisions within his own Clan, he was ignorant. He accepted what he saw, what he was told, and never thought to look further.
Stork-kit was the second-born, smaller than his brother and a bit sickly in the beginning; Cygnetwing, anxious about his health, bugged Swanfeather almost constantly for fear that he would catch something and fall ill- that he might die. Despite the attempted assurances that he was fine, just small, the she-cat kept it up; her worries eventually spilled over to Stork-kit, who began to mimic her behaviors, panicking over the slightest cough or off feeling, which in turn only increased Cygnetwing's fear that something awful was wrong with him. This cycle was interrupted when Stork-kit became an apprentice, but his worries about getting sick would never completely diminish. His mentor was patient with him, but firm in his assurances that Storkpaw was fine.
Soon after he was apprenticed, however, the young tom realized the full extent of the troubles that had split RainClan in half when he discovered that there was another RainClan- or another half of it. The Loyalists, his father spat, cats were too soft on cats who should be enemies, who condoned cross-breeding and were muddying RainClan's pure blood. His mother, who was so caring about him, showed a different side in denouncing any cats who could not trace their lineage back through moons of RainClan cats, and his mentor too never seemed to have a nice thing to say about the cats living apart from them, despite them having all been one Clan not long ago.
But many others had since had a change of heart, and when they were allowed to return to RainClan's camp, taking Storkpaw's brother with them, Storkpaw joined them. His mother, father, and mentor, as well as others, he abandoned. Cats were cats, he didn't see the point behind hating them for their parentage- and he couldn't bear being apart from his brother. He was given a new mentor and settled nicely into the camp, where he just as quickly displayed his habit to Ottersplash, bothering him mercilessly at times over the slightest symptom that he worried might mean he was about to become horribly sick.
When greencough spread that newleaf, it only increased Storkpaw's frantic fears. Like many others, he fell ill, but vigilance and herbs helped him to pull through in the end. And it only made him more certain that somehow, in some way, he was going to get ill like that again. It is a baseless fear, but it is constantly on his mind, and the slightest thing can set it off- a scratch from training will certainly become infected, or his cough or sneeze is surely a precursor to a horrible bout of sickness- no matter how many times he is assured that the scratch is healing, or that there is no illness in RainClan.
And yet, in between these moments of panic, he shaped up to be a worthy warrior: he might avoid the fight until he can't any more, but once pushed he's capable of holding his own, and at fishing and hunting he excelled. At eighteen moons he earned his warrior name, Storkleg, but aside from the new name and increased duties, he's hardly changed in the moons since.
Swanfeather's admission back into the Clan didn't bother him- he'd heard about the things she'd done, but he had only the memories of her helping her Clanmates, then and now, and without her, he reasoned, where would RainClan be? Ottersplash could not continue as medicine cat so it was only right for Swanfeather, who had taught Ottersplash, to resume her former place within the Clan.
He was slightly more confused on the role of his father and mother, and the other Purists, and it was easier, in the end, to classify them as Stormstar did: rogues. A threat to the Clan, to be dealt with accordingly. He never did see Cygnetwing again, and only once after his father, when Ashflight killed the tom after he had nearly killed Rushwhisker, her brother. Moons of separation had meant what might have once caused him sadness left only a vague ache in his chest, quickly forgotten when Surgeclaw was buried and life carried on as normal.
Other: Nothing
Age: 33 moons
Gender: Tom
Clan: RainClan
Rank: Warrior
Picture:
Description: Storkleg embodies both parts of his name: his fur is soft and snowy white, just like the storks that sometimes are drawn by the river, and his skinny frame, a slender body supported by thin legs, gave him his warrior name. His fur, while a bit on the thin side, is as water resistant as the rest of RainClan’s, shedding water with ease due to the fish that make up his diet.
His appearance is a bit strange- an oddly tapered face with large ears, a lean body with lanky legs and a longer than usual tail. He's a bit undersized as well, not unhealthily so but enough for some to wonder if he's an apprentice or just a smaller-than-average warrior. The only points of color are his pads and nose, which are both pink, and his eyes, which are a curious, almost blue-green shade that can be likened to water.
Description Summary: Small, lean tom with snow-white fur and blue-green eyes
Personality: Storkleg has all the makings of a good warrior: he may never receive praise for standing out in any way, his slight frame making him just a decent fighter, while his white fur sometimes startles fish and prey. His long legs, though, make him a good runner, which is useful for hunting land prey. He prefers fish, however, and seldom cares to try to hunt anything else. He's not afraid to coat himself in mud to make it easier to fish, and a good swim in the river washes it all off quickly enough.
He enjoys company, even if he prefers to not sit where he will breathe in the air the other cat breathes out, or share tongues- any sort of contact aside from casual shoulder or tail brushes will result in him shying away, his obsessive fear of catching something from them keeping him from enjoying contact with his Clanmates. Most are well familiar with his habits by now, and few will push, but with each new litter he goes through it all over again, and he's not above outright fleeing the camp to avoid pesky kits who can't understand he doesn't want them climbing over him.
He's friendly to most, at least, more than willing to talk and work with his Clanmates, more than content to hunt and patrol and do whatever else is required of him, and he's easy enough to get on with. A tad bit of a pushover, he does have some trouble standing up for himself during confrontations, and he'd sooner let a cat believe something of him than speak up and set them straight, only to mope about it later until the incident is addressed or simply forgotten.
History: Storkleg and his brother were born to Cygnetwing and Surgeclaw during the last moons of the civil war. For most of his younger days, he knew nothing about the other camp of RainClan cats that existed- he was raised in the belief that the cats he saw every day were the only true RainClan that existed. Of course he was told all about the other Clans, stories and warnings about the other four told to pass the time and instill a sense of loyalty in the kits.
But of the divisions within his own Clan, he was ignorant. He accepted what he saw, what he was told, and never thought to look further.
Stork-kit was the second-born, smaller than his brother and a bit sickly in the beginning; Cygnetwing, anxious about his health, bugged Swanfeather almost constantly for fear that he would catch something and fall ill- that he might die. Despite the attempted assurances that he was fine, just small, the she-cat kept it up; her worries eventually spilled over to Stork-kit, who began to mimic her behaviors, panicking over the slightest cough or off feeling, which in turn only increased Cygnetwing's fear that something awful was wrong with him. This cycle was interrupted when Stork-kit became an apprentice, but his worries about getting sick would never completely diminish. His mentor was patient with him, but firm in his assurances that Storkpaw was fine.
Soon after he was apprenticed, however, the young tom realized the full extent of the troubles that had split RainClan in half when he discovered that there was another RainClan- or another half of it. The Loyalists, his father spat, cats were too soft on cats who should be enemies, who condoned cross-breeding and were muddying RainClan's pure blood. His mother, who was so caring about him, showed a different side in denouncing any cats who could not trace their lineage back through moons of RainClan cats, and his mentor too never seemed to have a nice thing to say about the cats living apart from them, despite them having all been one Clan not long ago.
But many others had since had a change of heart, and when they were allowed to return to RainClan's camp, taking Storkpaw's brother with them, Storkpaw joined them. His mother, father, and mentor, as well as others, he abandoned. Cats were cats, he didn't see the point behind hating them for their parentage- and he couldn't bear being apart from his brother. He was given a new mentor and settled nicely into the camp, where he just as quickly displayed his habit to Ottersplash, bothering him mercilessly at times over the slightest symptom that he worried might mean he was about to become horribly sick.
When greencough spread that newleaf, it only increased Storkpaw's frantic fears. Like many others, he fell ill, but vigilance and herbs helped him to pull through in the end. And it only made him more certain that somehow, in some way, he was going to get ill like that again. It is a baseless fear, but it is constantly on his mind, and the slightest thing can set it off- a scratch from training will certainly become infected, or his cough or sneeze is surely a precursor to a horrible bout of sickness- no matter how many times he is assured that the scratch is healing, or that there is no illness in RainClan.
And yet, in between these moments of panic, he shaped up to be a worthy warrior: he might avoid the fight until he can't any more, but once pushed he's capable of holding his own, and at fishing and hunting he excelled. At eighteen moons he earned his warrior name, Storkleg, but aside from the new name and increased duties, he's hardly changed in the moons since.
Swanfeather's admission back into the Clan didn't bother him- he'd heard about the things she'd done, but he had only the memories of her helping her Clanmates, then and now, and without her, he reasoned, where would RainClan be? Ottersplash could not continue as medicine cat so it was only right for Swanfeather, who had taught Ottersplash, to resume her former place within the Clan.
He was slightly more confused on the role of his father and mother, and the other Purists, and it was easier, in the end, to classify them as Stormstar did: rogues. A threat to the Clan, to be dealt with accordingly. He never did see Cygnetwing again, and only once after his father, when Ashflight killed the tom after he had nearly killed Rushwhisker, her brother. Moons of separation had meant what might have once caused him sadness left only a vague ache in his chest, quickly forgotten when Surgeclaw was buried and life carried on as normal.
Other: Nothing