Post by Moor on Nov 19, 2012 21:18:59 GMT -5
emberfoot
[/b][/size]ember- he is black and ginger; foot- his front two paws are ginger[/font]
[/center]AGE 30 moons
GENDER Tom
RANK Deputy
CLAN Cloudclan
LOOKS Fur as dark as soot and rough to the touch clings to a small frame, so short that it nicely outlines the lean muscle on this cat rather than hide it. The color is uniform down to the front paws, where bright ginger completely dominates. As a kit, he had ginger on his back paws, too, but as he aged it turned black. While most of the time he loves the splash of color, he recognizes it as a hazard when stalking, and has developed a peculiar way of walking so as to step as lightly as possible. He bends he legs more with each step than the typical cat, to the point where it looks like he bounces everywhere.
Perhaps the most astonishing part of his looks, other than his namesake paws, are his blank hazel eyes. They never really seem to have an expression in them, which many cats find a little off-putting. There is only ever the faintest note of emotion in his eyes when the feeling is very strong within him. Nonetheless, he is very fond of his eyes. But besides for expression, "blank" may also apply to the lack of anything interesting about the actual color of he eyes. It is a flat hazel, with as little variance as his pelt.
LIKES I like my friends an awful lot. I also like order and tradition, fighting to protect my clan, and training apprentices. I like to talk. I like the way I look.
DISLIKES I don't like when apprentices don't catch on quickly, cats who don't follow instructions, or getting my paws wet without good reason.
FEARS I'm afraid that someone will someday see past my facade and know the emotions that I feel.
HOPES I hope to be leader someday and lead my clan to glory! I want the name "Emberstar," (or at the very least "Emberfoot") to be recognizd and told again and again to kits decades after I die. I want to be a legend. I want every apprentice I train to have a piece of that glory, too. More than ever, I want my clan to recognize me as a faithful warrior, if only so that I can believe it myself.
OVERALL I carry a huge secret. It's the reason why I force my eyes to show no emotion, for fear of being discovered. The Warrior Code? I've never really felt connected to it. I've never felt led by it. It is not what drives my decisions. Really, the only consideration I give to it is when it may affect others' opinions of me. I'm ashamed to admit it, so listen up: This is not to be shared with anyone, got it? Ever. I certainly will never be bringing it up willingly ever again. And if you say that it's not terrible, that if my own moral code's guidance has not led me to break it, then it's essentially the same, well that's very generous of you. But there's more. Not only do I not feel compelled to abide by it, but the very shame that it drowns me in has led me down the path of the compulsive liar.
I swear to you by Starclan that everything said here is the truth (which I'm sure comforts you, coming from a cat who has already told you he is a compulsive liar and does not follow the Warrior Code as obediently as he should). Fear not, because I don't lie all the time! I have some self-control. How could I have risen to deputy if I had a reputation for lies? No, that secret is under wraps, as carefully guarded as my other. Not even my family is aware of this debilitating vice.
Let's turn to calmer waters, though, shall we? I'm not evil. Those two secrets are far from my entire being. To meet me, you would probably think me pretty normal. Just another fiercely loyal warrior who respects every cat in the clan. I try to be a role-model for the kits, even though I think most of them are annoying. I'm pretty friendly, and I love to talk. It isn't hard to get to know me and have a good time. I take my job seriously, yeah, but I love my friends just as much. If one of them needs something done, I'm the cat to ask, because I put their desires before my own. I guess I'm just a giver. Not everyone seems to like my free grooming advice, but I can't change who I am now.
To see me in action, you would probably think me skilled and dedicated. My two favorite aspects of warrior life are fighting and training. There is nothing more impressive than seeing a cat come back with battle wounds to prove that he just put his life on the line for the safety of the clan, and even as deputy I am influenced greatly when I see it. That's who I want to be, the one that chases down danger at every turn, knowing the inevitability of his own mortality, making a name for himself that will be passed down for generations when that day finally comes. I want to train my apprentices to be like that. I can guarantee that any apprentice who goes through my little regime will come out a competent fighter, and useful warrior for the clan.
Speaking of training, I like to go relatively fast. I figure that if a young cat is bright enough to learn and take to heart everything I tell him at the pace at which I go, he is going places in life. I don't baby my apprentices. Real life battle doesn't grant a second chance. I'll slow it down a bit if the poor cat seems overwhelmed, but most of my apprentices have performed well. I mean, sometimes it takes a bit to catch on. My training style is pretty unique; I don't know many cats who teach largely by example and give practically no explanation. I teach them to use their heads, and it's good for them. If they perform well, we'll play games. Games are fun. I guess another hope of mine is that they actually remember and use what I taught them.
My favorite fighting style involves the element of surprise and much skill in agility. I guess it might have something to do with me being so small, but sometimes bigger enemies give me a run for my money. I don't tell others this, but I like to target cats my size or a fair bit bigger first, and then get around to the rest when there are enough cats to lend a paw.
Let's take a moment and talk about trust. I surely am not as trustworthy as I appear, but I am pretty trusting. A paradox? Maybe. I figure that if I am basically a good cat at heart, even with all my faults, then everyone else must be, too. I trust my leader and family almost to a fault; and I guess I let my trust cloud my judgment at times. Seriously, though, I don't think I can go wrong following my leader, and I have faith in my family not to play on my feelings, because they care about me. My rule of thumb for trust is that a cat is trustworthy until he is not. That simple. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt the first time, but after that, it's a done deal. When I have proof, I can usually see pretty clearly.
I like the way I look, and I am comfortable with my relations with the ladies. Occasionally I falter; I ask myself why I can't be like other toms, who seem to have all the confidence in the world. But then I remind myself that I still have my friends, I still have my rank, I still have my family, and that should fate have it in store for me, I will find love someday. It will have to be a pretty dedicated she-cat, though, because I am not easily moved to action in this field. I have trouble talking to a she-cat I like until we are friends, so I try not to think of any cat as a potential mate until we are at least friends. As long as I don't think about it, I can talk any cat's ear off any day! I enjoy long walks in the forest (on patrol), and am looking for a spontaneous she-cat who is unafraid to take control.
Oh, but that sounded sappy, didn't it?
Because I hope to be leader someday, I have gathered my thoughts on tradition together in a neat little package that I review constantly. Want a peak? Okay. I believe in order, which stems from tradition. The fewer changes are put in place, the more comfortable the clan feels, the lower tensions are, and the more united the clan stands. Unity creates power. That said, I wouldn't lead totally blind to conflict. If absolutely necessary, I would consider making a change that would benefit every cat in the clan. On the whole, though, if I ever get the chance to add "star" to my name and gain eight more lives, I believe that I would do my warrior ancestors proud in upholding what they have lain before us.
PAST I was born and raised in Cloudclan, and from a very early age I took an interest in the elder stories. They told of the collective history of the clan, but I remember feeling like they were giving me a history of my own through the power of their words. "And once, long ago, there was peace. We got along with Duskclan. All was well." I asked them what it was like, but they could only give me the stories that elders before them had told. I was a pretty obnoxious kit, always asking for another story and another story, but most of them happily obliged.
Then my came my apprentice days. My mentor was nice to me, but we trained excruciatingly slowly. I remember watching other kits being apprenticed after me and then getting their warrior names before me! It was pretty ridiculous. I learned a lot, though. I came into my fighting style late in my training, after my mentor and I went through so many different styles. "You're a strong cat," he had said to me, and suggested that my strength might be my greatest weapon. He told me that once I grew a little more I could be one of the strongest in the clan. I had already stopped growing; that plan was out. "If you're small, you may be fast," he had said to me, and suggested that I run every day to improve. I could not improve. It was a difficult period in my life.
At the same time, I started talking to the cats my age more. I was still the first to go to the elder's den with fresh-kill or the offer of new bedding, but when there was nothing to do for them, I got to know my fellow apprentices. At first, it was really hard to talk to them; I recognized them from the nursery, but I didn't remember anything about them. Those years quickly became my most talkative and outgoing years, though, and I met a lot of cats around my age.
When I (finally!) became a warrior, life was good. I realized that my mentor had taught me a lot more than I thought I would retain, and secretly thanked him in my head every time I saw him. I looked up to him in a way that I looked up to no other cat. I wanted to see him lead the clan someday, because no only was he a marvelously patient teacher, but also a fair and wise cat, my best friend. When he died on the trip, I was beside myself with grief...
I refuse to think too much about the journey from our old hunting grounds. It's too painful. I lost someone so, so dear to me... He died due to an unfortunate misstep, a simple accident. That event is burned into my memory, and giving it the slightest thought it just prodding the embers. I don't want to die like he did. I promised myself that very night that I would die fighting for my clan, that I would die for the honor of both of us. It became much more important to me than the Warrior Code, but it seemed that faith in it was wavering all around me. Sometimes I feel ashamed for giving into the temptation to block it out of my life, but then I remember that it helped me get over the death of the first cat I truly cared for.
The journey was long, I remember that. I remember the stage of denial, where I pretended that the whole point of the journey was to find my mentor. I talked to the others, made more friends, trained an apprentice, went through day-to-day life as any cat would. Then I was made deputy.
At that point, denial no longer worked. We had been walking for so long that no cat left behind stood even a ghost of a chance of catching up. So I changed my focus. I decided to live in memory of my mentor, to become the cat he always knew I could be. Now I was not only planning to die for him, I was planning to live for him, too. New hopes of my own grew within me. My mind went back to the elder stories I heard as a kit, recalling how they recounted the great deeds of legendary cats. I wanted to become a legend. I wanted other little kittens who were as curious as me to hear what I did with my life. My dying words were already planned out. If there was a good chance of death for me, I would tell the elders my mentor's name and life goal.
Now that would be a story.
OTHER Wow... that she-cat sure was something. Adderstrike watched contentedly as she looked away, apparently having detected a piece of prey somewhere nearby. The feeling of the morning certainly was a lot different with her here. It wasn't as peaceful, but seeing her smile so easily in response to whatever he was doing right was a great confidence booster for him. She seemed a lot nicer than the other cats in the clan, in a way... Nice enough to tame his quivering paws, at least. When she looked back at him, sporting what he considered was a goofy little grin and an adorable glint in the eye, he almost felt like laughing, in his utter relief that this cat, even if she was only one in an entire clan, probably wouldn't judge his actions too harshly.
So he dropped into a hunting crouch at her little cue, and scented the air instinctively, falling into his hunting habit. Soon the mist would be gone. Soon the day would start. Soon he would have to return to camp, bringing in whatever prey he had killed and officially starting his warrior duties of the day. He would have to deal with the rest of the clan cats again, always suspecting that deep in the back of their brains rested contempt at his finishing his apprenticeship so late. But he didn't want to deal with them, talk with them. He wanted to spend the morning with Lightningheart, and waste the day away, just hunting and hunting and hunting. That's what he wanted.
He had slunk a little ways away, having taken note of the scent he thought she had discovered, to give her space to hunt. As for himself, he looked for rabbit. The natural tom desire of impressing those he was fond of was creeping up on him, causing his hormones to rush. The twitch started in his paws, of course, but soon his ears were in it, too. His shoulders gave in to the impulse next, and it traveled throughout his body and into his tail. Was Lightningheart watching? He wanted to show her that he could do this! He smelled the rabbit... There it was... Just a step closer...
Then he was gone. He sprinted into the mist, just flying like never before, an inexhaustible source of energy coursing through him. It felt like his paws never touched the ground, as he bee-lined for his prey. It was exhilarating, today's hunt; he felt on top of the world. The rabbit turned out to be anything but a problem to catch, as he practically ran through it. Only at the last second did he remember the necessity for claws and teeth, and clamped down on the side of the rabbit and tusseling a little more than typical with it until he could get the kill in. They had rolled together - or more, he had had to spend the excess momentum on a little rolling action, so when it was finally killed, he lay there for a second, breathing rapidly.
But when he got up, the twitching started all over again. He tried to make his way back to Lightningheart, rabbit dangling from his jaws, but every step was a problem. This time, it wasn't only his paws twitching, though, as he approached the she-cat. His entire body, nose to the tip of the tail, couldn't keep still. "Lightningheart?" he tried to call from around the fresh-kill. It was a muffled call, but still obviously happy.
