Post by Jos on Nov 9, 2020 0:34:30 GMT -5
Name
Whitethorn
Age:
18 moons (b. newleaf year 6 )
Gender:
Tom
Clan:
LightningClan
Rank: Warrior
Description:
Whitethorn is a sleek, lean tuxedo tom with pale green eyes. He has a peculiar stripe of white on the bridge of his nose that expands over his muzzle, down his throat, chest, and underbelly. The rest of his fur is jet black aside from a few stray flecks of white here and there. Whitethorn is a fairly standard sized warrior for his age, not overly large and muscular but also not under-sized either. He does have rather large, white tipped paws and a slightly longer than normal tail. He keeps his fur well groomed, which adds to the sleekness of his appearance.
Description Summary:
Sleek tuxedo tom with pale green eyes.
Personality:
Whitethorn is enthusiastic, friendly, and resilient.
He wakes up each morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready for what challenges await him on that day. No task is too menial, too intensive, or too gross for this young warrior: you can be assured he will tackle it head-on. When faced with a problem he breaks it down into its smallest parts, putting the pieces back together until he can clearly see the path between problem and solution. Although this means that he is a little slower than some of his peers at offering suggestions, his suggestions are usually more flushed out. He likes to be methodical and meticulous in his daily tasks.
Whitethorn is also known for his upbeat, generally pleasant demeanor. He tries to make friends with whomever he can and has sometimes ignored obvious hints that his presence is not wanted. Is he optimistic, or just thick? It is hard to tell with him. Whitethorn will often find cats who seem alone or lonely and spend time with them whether they want his company or not. He likes to keep tabs on how his clanmates are doing.
Whitethorn is stubborn, tactless, and often does not understand social queues.
He will pursue an idea well past the acceptable point, beating a dead horse as it were. He will run himself ragged when he faces failure in something and will not readily accept defeat—he would rather die than give up. Even though he tries to do things for the good of his clan such as spending time with a cat who seems lonely, he often either does not understand or flat out ignores social queues that are trying to tell him to give up. A cat would need to be brutally blunt with Whitethorn before he gets any hints. Which is just as well, because Whitethorn himself can be brutally blunt to the point of tactlessness. Is what he says true? Usually. Should he have said it in a kinder way? Definitely. All of this comes together with Whitethorns sharp intelligence, and he does like to casually brag about his brilliance so long as he can bring it up in polite conversation. He still ahs not learned that this is also a social faux pas.
However, when a cat truly gets to know Whitethorn and decides to love him, including his flaws, Whitethorn will be a loyal and constant companion. They just have to accept him, quirks and all.
History:
Whitekit was born at the beginning of Newleaf, when the wind was still cold and snow still covered the ground. His mother kitted him and his sister, Smokekit. There was a third kit who was born still, which his mother had refused to name in her grief. Their father named the kit Lightkit in hopes that its light would shine down on them from Starclan. Whitekit and Smokekit spent a great deal of time with their father as their mother ailed. Eventually she went to the medicine cat’s den, where she spent the rest of her moons. Whitekit remembers visiting her often, trying to get her to play mossball and eventually sitting with her until they both fell asleep, surrounded by the comforting scents of herbs. His mother did not survive to see Whitekit and Smokekit become apprentices.
As an apprentice Whitepaw worked very hard for his mentor. He minded what his mentor had to tell him and did his duties without complaint. He took the ‘service to your clan’ part very seriously. That of course did not excuse him from the normal apprentice hijinks. One time he was caught outside of camp without a warrior. His excuse was that he was hunting along the border but it was clear to anyone who had seen him at the gathering that he was padding after a young Treeclan she-cat. The embarrassment of being caught up in such a foolish affair did not quite stop Whitepaw from trying to steal a few precious moments with the Treeclan she-cat while at gatherings, but the affection faded fast. Whitepaw became older and wiser, and his dedication to his clan began to mean more to him than his own fantasies of running away with a cat from another clan. Not to mention, his mentor was not very pleased with his blatant disregard for the warrior code. For the rest of his apprenticeship Whitepaw was the very model of a good apprentice and it was not before long that he and his sister Smokepaw became fully fledged Lightningclan warriors.
As a warrior Whitethorn does as much as any other clanmate: he patrols borders, he hunts for the clan, and he would lay his life down in protection of his clan should that ever become necessary. However, the farther removed from his apprentice days he became, the more he began to wonder how necessary fighting really was? Why could cats not simply talk through their problems? Was a clan border really worth a cat’s life? Although he would die for his clan without a second thought, Whitethorn dedicated himself to trying a more peaceful approach to encounters with their neighboring clan rather than raise hackles and unsheathe claws at the first possible opportunity, like some of his clanmates.
This has not been a very popular move on his part, being that he is still a junior warrior but, luckily for Whitethorn, he is just stubborn and clueless enough for it not to bother him.
RP Example:
Other: I intend on auditioning him for the MCA position ^_^
Whitethorn
Age:
18 moons (b. newleaf year 6 )
Gender:
Tom
Clan:
LightningClan
Rank: Warrior
Description:
Whitethorn is a sleek, lean tuxedo tom with pale green eyes. He has a peculiar stripe of white on the bridge of his nose that expands over his muzzle, down his throat, chest, and underbelly. The rest of his fur is jet black aside from a few stray flecks of white here and there. Whitethorn is a fairly standard sized warrior for his age, not overly large and muscular but also not under-sized either. He does have rather large, white tipped paws and a slightly longer than normal tail. He keeps his fur well groomed, which adds to the sleekness of his appearance.
Description Summary:
Sleek tuxedo tom with pale green eyes.
Personality:
Whitethorn is enthusiastic, friendly, and resilient.
He wakes up each morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready for what challenges await him on that day. No task is too menial, too intensive, or too gross for this young warrior: you can be assured he will tackle it head-on. When faced with a problem he breaks it down into its smallest parts, putting the pieces back together until he can clearly see the path between problem and solution. Although this means that he is a little slower than some of his peers at offering suggestions, his suggestions are usually more flushed out. He likes to be methodical and meticulous in his daily tasks.
Whitethorn is also known for his upbeat, generally pleasant demeanor. He tries to make friends with whomever he can and has sometimes ignored obvious hints that his presence is not wanted. Is he optimistic, or just thick? It is hard to tell with him. Whitethorn will often find cats who seem alone or lonely and spend time with them whether they want his company or not. He likes to keep tabs on how his clanmates are doing.
Whitethorn is stubborn, tactless, and often does not understand social queues.
He will pursue an idea well past the acceptable point, beating a dead horse as it were. He will run himself ragged when he faces failure in something and will not readily accept defeat—he would rather die than give up. Even though he tries to do things for the good of his clan such as spending time with a cat who seems lonely, he often either does not understand or flat out ignores social queues that are trying to tell him to give up. A cat would need to be brutally blunt with Whitethorn before he gets any hints. Which is just as well, because Whitethorn himself can be brutally blunt to the point of tactlessness. Is what he says true? Usually. Should he have said it in a kinder way? Definitely. All of this comes together with Whitethorns sharp intelligence, and he does like to casually brag about his brilliance so long as he can bring it up in polite conversation. He still ahs not learned that this is also a social faux pas.
However, when a cat truly gets to know Whitethorn and decides to love him, including his flaws, Whitethorn will be a loyal and constant companion. They just have to accept him, quirks and all.
History:
Whitekit was born at the beginning of Newleaf, when the wind was still cold and snow still covered the ground. His mother kitted him and his sister, Smokekit. There was a third kit who was born still, which his mother had refused to name in her grief. Their father named the kit Lightkit in hopes that its light would shine down on them from Starclan. Whitekit and Smokekit spent a great deal of time with their father as their mother ailed. Eventually she went to the medicine cat’s den, where she spent the rest of her moons. Whitekit remembers visiting her often, trying to get her to play mossball and eventually sitting with her until they both fell asleep, surrounded by the comforting scents of herbs. His mother did not survive to see Whitekit and Smokekit become apprentices.
As an apprentice Whitepaw worked very hard for his mentor. He minded what his mentor had to tell him and did his duties without complaint. He took the ‘service to your clan’ part very seriously. That of course did not excuse him from the normal apprentice hijinks. One time he was caught outside of camp without a warrior. His excuse was that he was hunting along the border but it was clear to anyone who had seen him at the gathering that he was padding after a young Treeclan she-cat. The embarrassment of being caught up in such a foolish affair did not quite stop Whitepaw from trying to steal a few precious moments with the Treeclan she-cat while at gatherings, but the affection faded fast. Whitepaw became older and wiser, and his dedication to his clan began to mean more to him than his own fantasies of running away with a cat from another clan. Not to mention, his mentor was not very pleased with his blatant disregard for the warrior code. For the rest of his apprenticeship Whitepaw was the very model of a good apprentice and it was not before long that he and his sister Smokepaw became fully fledged Lightningclan warriors.
As a warrior Whitethorn does as much as any other clanmate: he patrols borders, he hunts for the clan, and he would lay his life down in protection of his clan should that ever become necessary. However, the farther removed from his apprentice days he became, the more he began to wonder how necessary fighting really was? Why could cats not simply talk through their problems? Was a clan border really worth a cat’s life? Although he would die for his clan without a second thought, Whitethorn dedicated himself to trying a more peaceful approach to encounters with their neighboring clan rather than raise hackles and unsheathe claws at the first possible opportunity, like some of his clanmates.
This has not been a very popular move on his part, being that he is still a junior warrior but, luckily for Whitethorn, he is just stubborn and clueless enough for it not to bother him.
RP Example:
Whitethorn was patrolling along the Lightningclan border with Stoneclan. He braced himself against a cold, stiff breeze that wafted from Stoneclan territory and wondered how any cat could live among so many boulders? How did their medicine cat collect herbs there? Did they grow in the rocks? What kind of prey did the warriors eat? He could not imagine. He had heard from a Stoneclan apprentice, Squirrelpaw, that they often hunted and ate lizards. The thought of a cold blooded, scaley piece of prey had made Whitethorn wrinkle his nose in disgust, “How dreadful!” he exclaimed, effectively offending an entire clan with two poorly placed words.
Another gust of wind hit him, this time carrying an extremely strong scent of Stoneclan…and blood. Whitethorn pricked his ears and opened his jaws to taste the air more thoroughly. He knew he should just walk away. Stoneclan warriors were none of his business, and it was not his job to make sure that those rock-brained fools stayed out of harms way.
Still.
He would feel terribly guilty if some cat died because of his inaction. Whitethorn sighed at himself and shook his head. ‘I’m going to get my ears clawed off if this goes wrong.’ He thought as he approached the border. “Hello? Hello, is some cat there?”
No response.
Whitethorn waited for a few heartbeats for an answer and was about to turn around when he spotted an orange and white furred tom hopping his way. It was Squirrelpaw, from the gathering!
Whitethorn lifted his tail in greeting. Squirrelpaw was a friendly enough tom, if not a tad bit simple. “Greetings, Squirrelpaw!”
The Stoneclan tom puffed out his chest, “It’s Squirreltalon now. I’m a warrior!”
Whitethorn dipped his head, “My congratulations!” then he nodded to Squirreltalon’s front left paw, which he held up and off the ground. “Are you injured?”
Squirreltalon sat down at the border and lifted his paw, gnawing between the pads. “Yes,” he said angrily, “I have a sharp stone stuck in there and I can’t…get it…out…pah!” he spat blood out onto the ground. “I’ll have to cross the whole territory before I can get Ebonyheart to take it out. It will take me until moon-high at least.”
The Stoneclan tom looked miserable, and Whitethorn could see the paw looked swollen already. He sighed, “Maybe I can help. Come on over.” He beckoned Squirreltalon over the border, encouraging him with a friendly flick of his tail, “Come on, no one will know. I’ll re-mark the border when you leave.” Squirreltalon hobbled over the scent-line and stuck his paw out for Whitethorn to inspect. He gave the pad a gentle sniff and felt heat radiating out of it. If it wasn’t removed soon, it would become infected.
“One would think that a Stoneclan cat would know to watch out for stones on their territory,” he muttered, gesturing for Squirreltalon to lay down, “Stretch out your paw.” The Stoneclan tom did as he was told. Whitethorn located small sharp stone, took it between his teeth, and pulled. It was a lot longer than it looked at first glance and made a squelching sound as it came free of the paw, making Squirreltalon a little woozy.
“Stay here and give it a good wash. I’ll find some chervil for the infection, and cobwebs for the bleeding…”
Whitethorn returned to Squirreltalon with a mouthful of chervil and a pawful of cobwebs. While Squirreltalon recovered from his wooziness, Whitethorn chewed up the little bit of chervil root and dabbed it on the wound, then closed it up with the cobwebs. “There.” He said, giving it another sniff, “You should be all right. I would get Ebonyheart to take a look at it when you get back to camp, but I suspect you’ll be off duties for a while.”
Squirreltalon stood and tested his newly cured paw. “It feels a lot better. Thank you, Whitethorn!”
Whitethorn puffed out his chest, “You are quite welcome. Keep a look out for stones!”
“I will!” Squirreltalon said as he crossed the border, tail held high. Whitethorn watched him leave and waited until he was fully out of sight before marking the border again to mask his scent.
He knew helping Squirreltalon was the wrong thing to do. He should have just sent him on his way. But what was the harm in curing what was essentially a thorn in the paw? It was not like Lightningclan and Stoneclan were at war or anything like that. Perhaps a few good deeds here and there would boost clan relations? And, besides, helping Squirreltalon just felt like the right thing to do. Just then he felt a strange sense of fulfillment and satisfaction. It really was too bad he could not be a medicine cat—perhaps he would have good at it?
Well, he thought as he began the trip back to camp, I guess I’ll never know.
Another gust of wind hit him, this time carrying an extremely strong scent of Stoneclan…and blood. Whitethorn pricked his ears and opened his jaws to taste the air more thoroughly. He knew he should just walk away. Stoneclan warriors were none of his business, and it was not his job to make sure that those rock-brained fools stayed out of harms way.
Still.
He would feel terribly guilty if some cat died because of his inaction. Whitethorn sighed at himself and shook his head. ‘I’m going to get my ears clawed off if this goes wrong.’ He thought as he approached the border. “Hello? Hello, is some cat there?”
No response.
Whitethorn waited for a few heartbeats for an answer and was about to turn around when he spotted an orange and white furred tom hopping his way. It was Squirrelpaw, from the gathering!
Whitethorn lifted his tail in greeting. Squirrelpaw was a friendly enough tom, if not a tad bit simple. “Greetings, Squirrelpaw!”
The Stoneclan tom puffed out his chest, “It’s Squirreltalon now. I’m a warrior!”
Whitethorn dipped his head, “My congratulations!” then he nodded to Squirreltalon’s front left paw, which he held up and off the ground. “Are you injured?”
Squirreltalon sat down at the border and lifted his paw, gnawing between the pads. “Yes,” he said angrily, “I have a sharp stone stuck in there and I can’t…get it…out…pah!” he spat blood out onto the ground. “I’ll have to cross the whole territory before I can get Ebonyheart to take it out. It will take me until moon-high at least.”
The Stoneclan tom looked miserable, and Whitethorn could see the paw looked swollen already. He sighed, “Maybe I can help. Come on over.” He beckoned Squirreltalon over the border, encouraging him with a friendly flick of his tail, “Come on, no one will know. I’ll re-mark the border when you leave.” Squirreltalon hobbled over the scent-line and stuck his paw out for Whitethorn to inspect. He gave the pad a gentle sniff and felt heat radiating out of it. If it wasn’t removed soon, it would become infected.
“One would think that a Stoneclan cat would know to watch out for stones on their territory,” he muttered, gesturing for Squirreltalon to lay down, “Stretch out your paw.” The Stoneclan tom did as he was told. Whitethorn located small sharp stone, took it between his teeth, and pulled. It was a lot longer than it looked at first glance and made a squelching sound as it came free of the paw, making Squirreltalon a little woozy.
“Stay here and give it a good wash. I’ll find some chervil for the infection, and cobwebs for the bleeding…”
Whitethorn returned to Squirreltalon with a mouthful of chervil and a pawful of cobwebs. While Squirreltalon recovered from his wooziness, Whitethorn chewed up the little bit of chervil root and dabbed it on the wound, then closed it up with the cobwebs. “There.” He said, giving it another sniff, “You should be all right. I would get Ebonyheart to take a look at it when you get back to camp, but I suspect you’ll be off duties for a while.”
Squirreltalon stood and tested his newly cured paw. “It feels a lot better. Thank you, Whitethorn!”
Whitethorn puffed out his chest, “You are quite welcome. Keep a look out for stones!”
“I will!” Squirreltalon said as he crossed the border, tail held high. Whitethorn watched him leave and waited until he was fully out of sight before marking the border again to mask his scent.
He knew helping Squirreltalon was the wrong thing to do. He should have just sent him on his way. But what was the harm in curing what was essentially a thorn in the paw? It was not like Lightningclan and Stoneclan were at war or anything like that. Perhaps a few good deeds here and there would boost clan relations? And, besides, helping Squirreltalon just felt like the right thing to do. Just then he felt a strange sense of fulfillment and satisfaction. It really was too bad he could not be a medicine cat—perhaps he would have good at it?
Well, he thought as he began the trip back to camp, I guess I’ll never know.
Other: I intend on auditioning him for the MCA position ^_^