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Post by l.wolfeh.l on Jan 7, 2007 16:00:09 GMT -5
Name:
Wolfstar
Age:
46 moons + Five Lives
Gender:
Tom
Position:
Leader
Clan:
DawnClan
Appearance:
Wolfie and again!
Wolfstar is what would be called a Maine Coon - decended from a long line of the special breed that started with one the the first Clan cats. His fur is long and thick, creating fluffy feet and tufted ears. As a silver tabby, he has long, thick black tabby stripes running though silvery fur, twining around his legs and plumed tail and straight up to the M on his forehead. The fur on his chest, cheeks, and lining his eyes are pale gray and sometimes white.
The tom's eyes are striking green, somewhere between the colors of forest and emerald. They glint with life much younger than that of one truly Wolfstar's age, and are wide and honest.
Wolfstar is a very large cat, standing a head larger even than other cats in his clan. His mass makes him very intimidating, but also very obvious. It is hard for the tom to hide or hunt, his girth and weight amplifying ever move.
Personality:
Wolfstar is a firm, hard leader, lacking in the finer points of compassion and emotion. While he is true and always the first to defend justice, his cold demeanor makes it all to easy to dislike him for his unwillingness to develop empathy. Few can get past this persona, though those who do will assuredly never leave his side.
He is hardest on those he loves most, though. His unrelenting pushes to being bigger, stronger, smarter, and faster can drive a cat to madness, even though Wolfstar only wishes to have the best for them. This trait comes into play especially later on, when the leader has children.
Wolfstar holds a self-image as one who is firm and set in the laws of the forest. He is steadfast is his belief for following rules, and has never in his career as leader allowed rules to be broken without appropriate punshment. He despises rogues and holds an air of vacancy when loners and kittypets are concerned. The old leader is careful, though, with his diplomacy and would never speak down on those when in the company of some who may be offended. Wolfstar is a paradox of mixed unemotions.
History:
Wolfkit was born on a normal day, in the cave home of the DawnClan cats. His mother, Songbrook, gave birth to three healthy kits - Wolfkit, Aspenkit, and Cricketkit. Their father, Dunestar, was a distant parent, only coming and going now and then to make sure that his offspring were growing healthily. Many in the clan pitied the "poor Songbrook"; she was so sweet and outgoing, a clan favorite since her kit day, and Dunestar was cold and seemingly unfeeling. But nonetheless, Songbrook never spoke ill of her mate, and always made sure to tell her kits how honorable their father was.
The three kits grew to be strong and fit - all three larger than kits in other litters, Wolfkit being the largest. They were apprenticed, and recieved their mentors. Wolfpaw was assigned to a tom named Gustfall. Gustfall was well-liked among the clan, an excellent senior warrior and good-humored source of companionship. His assignment with Wolfpaw was odd, though, because it was a well-known fact that Dunestar and Gustfall had never been fond of each other. Wolfpaw excelled under Gustfall's leadership - the tom had obviously put his and Dunestar's differences aside for the sake of the young apprentice.
While with Gustfall, Wolfpaw learned the real reason why Gustfall and Dunestar never got along - they had both been courting the lovely Songbrook in their younger days, each trying to out-do the other. While Dunestar simply wanted a mate, Gustfall was truly in love with the she-cat. Dunestar won out in the end, with his talks of what was good for the clan, and his lies of how Gustfall was never going to be mature enough to commit to a mate. Wolfpaw and Gustfall grew close, the older becoming a sort of uncle-figure (almost a father-figure, in Dunestar's absence) to the young apprentice.
When Wolfpaw was not training or doing other apprentice chores, he spent much of his time with his siblings, mainly Cricketpaw. While Apsenpaw was wise beyond his moons, he was quiet and still; Cricketpaw was the opposite. She was bubbly and possessed a contagious aura of joy, and all the clan would go on about how much she was like her mother at a younger age. Wolfpaw and Cricketpaw would go off on mini-adventures, scaling dunes or hunting for crabs with the prettiest shells out of the beach. Dunestar never approved of such outings, but Songbrook insisted their kitten-ness be allowed out to play sometimes.
Cricketpaw was always coming up with new, unique ideas for games. One day she suggested to Wolfpaw that they go to Sky Falls and see how it felt to attend a Gathering. Wolfpaw agreed, and the two set off.
None could have known the horror that followed. A bear had entered the forest cats' territories, and was using the roaring waters of Sky Falls as a fishing spot. The monstrous brown grizzly found the two adventuring apprentices as they stared in awe down the falls. They were trapped - the only way to go was down.
Then a flash streaked toward the bear; Gustfall had followed the young siblings, and had launched himself at the bears face viciously. The beast fell away, roaring in pain, leaving a clear way for Wolfpaw and Cricketpaw to escape. They ran, but the feline screeches of pain stopped them in their tracks. They turned - Gustfall was being ruthelessly torn from the bear's face. Wolfpaw watched in horror, his feet rooted to the spot as he watched his mentor thrown to the ground, still and bloody.
"Gustfall! Cricketpaw had cried, running to where the cat lay. But the bear was still there, and he moved in on her. Wolfkit sped off, but skidded to a halt as his sister, backing away from the bear, mistepped and was ripped away by the river. In an instant, she was gone over the falls. Wolfpaw howled with a horrible sadness - his two most loved companions, both gone in moments. The bear sniffed at Gustfall's broken body, then shuffled away, bored.
Wolfpaw drug his mentor's body back to the DawnClan camp, where he was met with ghastly expressions. Forcedly he explained the events of his friends' deaths, then retired away to his nest to weep.
The next day, Dunestar made Wolfpaw his apprentice. He taught his son that the reason for Gustfall's and Cricketpaw's deaths were their lack of rule-following; Cricketpaw should not have gone wandering, and Gustfall should not have followed alone. All in all, the lesson was pounded into Wolfpaw's head, until he himself began to believe that life was about following laws.
Wolfpaw became Wolfcry, and within moons he was appointed deputy upon the death of the original deputy to Greencough. He excelled at his duties, so set in the rules that nothing else mattered. When Dunestar lost his last life in a battle with DuskClan, Wolfcry was made Wolfstar.
He lost his first life after a battle with a lynx that had strayed into DawnClan territory, and his second when rogues attacked his patrol near the barn to the north. His third came when a horrible storm felled a tree on his back end, and fourth during another battle with DuskClan.
Other:
Most of these characters (still living) will come into play in plots soon.
IC:
(Not Wolfeh...) A cool breeze ruffled the newly budding leaves of the trees around the fallen forest, welcoming springtime into the woodland. The change in weather was felt and enjoyed by many creatures - voles scurried through the damp logs, squirrels bounded from limb to limb, and one lone mouse twitched its nose pleasantly as he emerged from a ragged stump.
Nearby, another creature watched intently. This one was much larger, snowy white in color with silvery shading and eyes blue as a lake. A cat. The breeze carried the mouse's inviting scent directly to the feline, but the rodent was oblivious to all but the smells of nuts and berries to be gathered. Under the cover of the mossy logs, the white cat moved forward, every muscle twitching fromt the thrill of the hunt. When within a bound's distance, she tensed, rocking back and forth on her haunches, readying to pounce.
Then, in one flurry of white, she exploded into action, leaping up and onto the fat mouse. Her paws clamped securely around her prey as it squeaked in panic, but quickly the feline put an end to its banter. She straightened, giving her shoulder a quick, proud lick, then went to consuming the fruits of her labor. Though the cat was alert and capable, she was oblivious to the new territory she had wandered into...
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Post by The.Angry.Squall on Jan 15, 2007 9:48:58 GMT -5
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