Post by {FOREVER} on Oct 10, 2009 11:01:15 GMT -8
Count Down to Happ!ness
3...2...1[/center][/font][/color][/b]
[/center][/font][/color][/b]
And so I was blessed--- Stormchaser
Learning to live for--- 38 Moons
Pledging myself to only--- The Survivors
Given the rank--- Warrior
DNA code--- maleCount Down to my fading smile3...2...1
Made like my sire--- This short furred tomcat is average, if not slightly larger, than your atypical Warrior only due muscle structure. Whereas some cats appear large by a deceptive amount of fur, Stormchaser is as big as the eye perceives him. A rather heavyset feline among the wild forest cats he does lack a portion of the speed that the sleeker Warriors possess but this is hardly a hindrance.
He compensates his stature with raw, unadulterated power that is well-maintained and calculated when engaging others. It is rare to see a cat of his size trolling the forest without them having a mixed, often seen as dishonorable heritage. Thankfully he is pure as far as the Warrior bloodlines are concerned which still leaves the matter of his surprising size an unsolved mystery. Broad at the shoulders and thick hips he looks like he should be much more clumsy, if not cumbersome, a trait many believe as a disadvantage which is not the case.
Stormchaser is no more at a loss than another cat that is smaller, if anything his build is an asset in resistance to force and pain, something he has a high tolerance for. The volume of his fur doesn’t change significantly during seasonal changes as some cats undergo. His short fur being its perpetual stormy gray accented with black or darker gray stripes provide him with well enough camouflage within his territory.
Atop his head the fur is darker, the black straying from their perfect stripes and turning the toms wide crown almost entirely black if it wasn’t for the rebellious gray/blue and white hairs that are scattered along his dome. Brown hairs circulate along his shoulders and thighs –concentrating along inner portion of his hips before mingling with the more dominant white or beige that takes residence there.
His chest is a lighter, faded gray and the same reflects along his jaws. His eye color is debatable. Where in some instances they are a cool, New-leaf green, there are other times when they are tinted with a faint blue making them turquoise or cerulean.
A closer look--- Click.
The heart of my dame--- Stormchaser is, and is not, a product of his environment. His hardships and his heartaches have molded him to be a cat who wishes only the best to his fellows may they be friend or foe. Having had his own sibling hate him to the point of abandoning her Clan, Stormchaser often takes too much responsibly onto his own shoulders. Many times has the tom undertaken additional tasks, piled to his own busy schedule he successfully overworks himself and has incapacitated himself once or twice.
He simply can’t bear to have another member of his family despise him so he does everything physically possible to ensure that he stays within their good graces. Whenever he has the hunch that someone may not think him as a friend he goes out of his way to attend that that individual, being lenient with them, allowing them to shirk their duties which he then makes up for. A family oriented cat Stormchaser has patience in abundance, having mentored two Apprentices himself he has learned the dos and don’ts of being a teacher and how to best influence the youths of his Clan into conductive thinking. Although he is a tad bit firmer with the Apprentices than he is with Warriors, even been known to punish them himself by taking them on hour long patrols through the night and then battle practice the very next morning.
Accustomed to pulling long hours he has gotten into the habit of taking short, but necessary naps throughout the sunrise. It isn’t unusual to catch him snoozing in front of the Warriors den or even by the Clan entrance.
Despite being such a reliable feline Stormchaser can be manipulated with ease. There are just sunrises when the cat doesn't think things thoroughly enough and winds up making situations worse rather than better.
In terms of anger, Stormchaser is a relatively impassive cat when it comes to public displays. It is only when he is dealing with others in uproar or alone that he seems to have the most personality. During Clan functions such as Ceremonious and Gatherings, so long as the event goes on without a hitch he isn’t inclined to show much emotion. It is when someone he cares about is disrespected, attacked, threatened that he becomes more vocal that usual. This and when another cat mentions his currently missing sister. He may become angry at whatever remark is thrown with her name but within moments he locks himself down and seems to become cold and intolerant of others around him
Living this story of shame---
---[Kit-hood]
As a kit he was yet another boundless vortex of wild energy, how quaint that his mother had already experienced such a whirlwind from previous litters and knew how to direct the flow. Though Stormkit couldn’t be fully restrained from his activities his mother surveyed his outings or left him under the watchful eyes of other Queens in WindClan. It did not take the young kit long to notice one cat in particular, a she-cat with a piercing yellow gaze who was often glaring at him from across the camp.
In his formative moons he hadn’t known anything but the puerile kindheartedness that belonged to all kits regardless of later upbringing or Clan structure – he would have never thought to avoid this she-cat or consider her a potential threat to his well being. Well, he thought wrong and he vowed to make it his last mistake. One sunrise when Stormkit was approximately four moons old and waddling around the Camp in search of his playmates, he came across the striped Apprentice, who had taken post by the Warriors den a she often did, watching him with vengeful eyes. Irritated that he couldn't uncover his littermates he felt provoked enough to confront to she-cat about her distance and why her eyes trailed him like an owl.
Needless to say he received a less than cordial response from the cat, later to be known as Wildpaw, who rewarded the young Stormkit with a swipe across the face. She’d kept her claws sheathed but the blow sent him tottering to the side before falling over – the watchful Queen on duty hastened to the kits side, spitting at Wildpaw for that unnecessary attack. His mother was notified and this brewed a heavy argument between her and Wildpaw whose exact words were: ‘He can’t replace me or dad’. At that point in his life Stormkit was unable to understand her remark, motives and what was such a burden to the Apprentice that she lashed out at only him. There were often times when he sighted her with the other Apprentices of WindClan, laughing and playing with them with no obvious signs to give him any insight as to why she disliked him so much.
[apprenticeship]
It was the night of his ceremony and everything had gone as routinely as it could with Wildpaw missing in action and unable to be found. The Clan didn’t bother to wait for the other apprentice to grace them with her presence and proceeded as though she had never left their fold. Stormkit, now Stormpaw, did not know why her absence burned him so or why his mother had such a shameful look upon her face. It was only until later that night when he was saying goodnight to his beloved mother, did he receive the bitter truth as to why Wildpaw disliked him so very much.
Wildpaw wasn’t just any apprentice among those of WindClan, she was his half-sibling, and her father having died of mysterious causes only moons before Nettlecorn had gotten pregnant for the second time by Shrewclaw. Their shared blood wasn’t the issue so much as the fact that she felt her mother had delivered a great insult by having another kit and another mate within almost weeks of her fathers death. In a sense the she-cat felt she was being replaced by Stormpaw and didn’t know how to cope with her rage well enough to redirect it elsewhere. There was no one there for her to blame which left her no outlets for her pent up ire aside from training – that and loathing Stormpaw with all her worth.
It stung to know the truth at last but there wasn’t a thing he could do to make the cat feel less inclined to do him bodily harm. Her opinions, her feelings, they were her own and Stormpaw couldn’t be bothered to nurse her wounded pride or sense of worth because she thought herself inferior to him. If anything he found it quite flattering in and of itself.
In the sunrises following Stormpaw became a sassy tomcat, mischievious if nothing short of devious all together but clearly he avoided Wildpaw whenever it was possible. But they shared a den together, trained together and attended Gatherings with their clan-mates so separation was near impossible. At long last he confronted her again – this time he wasn’t the defenseless kit as he had been before. It was the sunrise Wildpaw was to gain her Warrior name that he approached her, meeting her glare with mutual spite.
To his sister he told her that there was nothing he could do to bring her father back, he felt no particular hatred toward her for disliking him but that her life would be miserable if she made an enemy of him. What control they had over their lives was in their own paws, not that of those who raised them. Wildpaw had given him a cold reception but did not show any other signs of hostility since that confrontation.
[Warrior-present]
Too keen to let himself be pulled along by the flock Stormpaw, named Stormchaser, had grown to watch his half sibling grow even more bitter. Although Wildstripe, as she was dubbed, was older Stormchaser was the better fighter. Larger that she was and lacking her open aggression he was the favored of the siblings which only made Wildstripe feel that much more slighted.
Their mother had passed away that Leaf-bare and her hatred of him seemed to have increased tenfold after they spent their last moments together with the dying Elder who had contracted whitecough. Whether it had been on purpose or a cruel, open ended praise, Nettlecorn had told them how proud she was of her kits - but only said Stormchaser's name.
Infuriated, Wildstripe had become quicker to anger, easier to provoke and more vicious until the point came when she accidentally killed her apprentice. The details are unknown but her apprentice was found dead near ThunderClan's border and no trace of Wildstripe whose scent continued on into the enemy territory.
Feeling that her jealousy induced madness was his own fault, Stormchaser continued to work at his duties to achieve ranks beyond his Warrior status. Wanting in the future to find his sister and either soothe her animosity or end her before she hurts another innocent. However it was not to be with the very real threat of BloodClan looming over the four clans so he reluctantly pulled his thoughts away from his sister to focus on the present threat to their lifestyle.
During the fateful battle he was appalled to find out that Wildstripe, who had changed her name to Wickedtruth, had joined the BloodClan ranks and fought him. He couldn't kill his sister and did all he could to avoid physically engaging her while trying to defend his floundering clan who were being picked off before his eyes. She was a warrior in every aspect, blood relation aside she dominated the playing field as if she had been born to fight this battle and intended to win regardless of the casualties. Stormchaser brought himself through the throng of writhing felines, forever slashing, spitting and biting at enemies who latched onto him like the deadly leeches they were. His body ached but his will and resolve and pride refused to succumb but ones abilities are no match for physical endurance and he was soon wavering between a state of conciousness and a eternal darkness.
He felt heavy, drenched in scratches and blood he knew in his heart that this battle was lost and was just waiting for the lucky BloodClan cat to end his misery. That cat was none other than his sister who looked down on him with pity that burned his soul - he met her eyes without wavering, accepting his death. Surprisingly enough though she didn't end his life - whatever sentamentality of the sister he'd wanted to know remained decided to spare him. She dragged him out of the fray and discarded his battered body close to the ShadowClan border where the fleeing cats would find him eventually.
Wasting your time under the setting sun
3...2...1[/center][/font][/color][/b]What's my name?--- Hidden
seasons roleplayed--- Five and Counting
Referred here through--- Neopets Ad
[/size][/blockquote][/color]
