Post by Spiltmelk on Apr 6, 2016 14:43:53 GMT -6
rookstar
tom
42 moons
leader
THUNDERCLAN
Heterosexual
chaotic neutral
stR 033
SPD 015
AGY 020
RFX 013
END 030
VIT 020
RES 015
WIP 028
INT 008
WIS 008
PER 010
total stats
200
total pen
###
ONTHE OUTSIDE
ROOK► BRIEF,
the name comes from a small, black corvid who features a bright white beak, therefore it fits the black and white cat perfectly.
A short, black and white tom with yellow eyes
► APPEARANCE,
Black and white. Splashed, patched, burnt, or painted; it makes no difference. Stained snow, dark berries; something poetic. Right. Yellow eyes. They’re not deep with some shitty metaphor, or yellow as a summer sun. They don’t represent spring or foretell the mysteries of the lost soul. They’re eyes. They do eye things. Pink pads, pink nose, pink skin – he’s got that too. You know, the usual. He also bleeds red. See, look? Just the same.
Scars? Sure. Got a split right ear from some Alliance freak. Pretty neat, huh? This here? It’s a small nick on his left ankle. Probably from fighting a monster, yeah? Legit. No? Well, believe what you want. That ruffled bit on his tail? Definitely a monster. Not a cowlick. Well, whatever. Are you calling him messy? Come on, for serious? He’s windswept and stuff. You know, like a hard-working guy. Manly. Tough. That scent? It’s the smell of the sun on a sweating pelt. All work and no play. Leaders are slaves.
Think broad, burly, and stocky. Thick like, well, someone tough but active. He's built like a rock; dense, unmovable, and all those fun things. Those shoulders aren’t made for running, but they carry some serious weight. Big paws’ll do the trick too. Put him on the frontlines. Break down dens. Crush skulls. All that fun jazz. Just don't call him short. What difference does a mouse-length or two make? Long as the apprentices take him seriously it don't mean a thing.
ONTHE INSIDE
STAR► TRAITS,
it was given when he earned his nine lives. Previous the tom was called Rookfang for his excellent fighting skills.
+ Brave, Romantic, Compassionate, Dynamic, Hyped-up
= Reckless, Boastful, Intimidating, Hotheaded, Standoffish
- Prejudiced, Temperamental, Dim-witted, Insecure, Rough
► PERSONALITY,
Brave, Confident, Compassionate, Dynamic, Hyped-up
Rook’s got nothing to lose and everything to prove. It makes him ridiculously brave in the face of even the greatest obstacles. This wild energy is magnetic. Cats are drawn to the intangible promise that lingers in his wake. They feed off his motivation and draw from his momentum. He is controlled by his powerful emotions, harboring a bottomless heart of compassion that often leads him astray. It’s all too easy for the tom to sympathize with whoever is pulling his ear. Despite his young age and inexperience, Rook is also highly, and overly confident. The sky's the limit, and even that he'll one day reach.
Reckless, Boastful, Intimidating, Hotheaded, Standoffish
Unable to sit still, and bursting with emotional energy, Rook throws himself into dangerous pursuits without thought. He lives for the thrill, and won’t shut up about it. This wild persona is perfect for threatening his adversaries, friends, foes, and whoever else dares to come too close. Getting serious? It’s time to roll his shoulders, insult your mother, and throw a few swipes. A fight is never far off. This is the last cat you want to bring to peace negotiations.
Prejudiced, Temperamental, Dim-witted, Insecure, Rough
As many of his clanmates have equally been taught, Rook fully believes in the stereotypes of the other clans and the clanless. To this end he's particularly quick to judge and sharp-tongued without reason. This aggressive tom also has a ridiculously short fuse. It doesn't take much to send him over the edge, particularly if his height is even remotely insulted. It's something he's extremely insecure about, and adds to his short list of sensitive pressure points. On top of it all he's a bit harsh around the edges, with a blunt tongue that often masks his good intentions. This is made all the more true with his lack of cunning. He's not a smart cat, not even close. Sure, he's not exactly mentally impaired, but don't expect clever connections or savvy negotiations.
THEFAMILY
MOTHER // Sedgestrike
Black she-cat with green eyes
FATHER // Moleclaw
Brown and white tabby tom with yellow eyes
GRANDMOTHER // Garlicflower
White she-cat with black ears and tail
FIRST MENTOR // Craneheart
Thin, angular old grey she-cat
SECOND MENTOR // Turtlestorm
Cocky, young calico molly
FIRST APPRENTICE // Yewpelt
Thin, light brown cat
AHISTORY
BEFORE BIRTH
Some habits are branded in blood. As her mother had done before her, Sedgestrike became pregnant only a paltry moon after her naming ceremony. She was scandalously young, incredibly foolish, and too concerned with living life to settle down. Worse yet, the father had failed to come forth and stake a claim. While that alone wasn’t entirely unusual, in this particular case it raised some unwelcome questions.
For you see, before her warrior days a particularly lump and wayward kittypet had found himself frequenting the edge of ThunderClan's forest. Something in his smile could be considered charming, but most assumed it was his forbidden flavor that “taunted her so”. He was, after all, far too useless to be a fitting partner for any self-respecting clan cat. But, one known visit became a suspected dozen. Dots were connected, and the time she spent dodging her mentor suddenly meant something else entirely.
However, there was a third player in this game, invisible in broad daylight. Moleclaw had trained alongside Sedgestrike. He earned his name on the same night their shared vigil was unceremoniously, and deliciously, broken. His suspected innocence came from their rivalry. Every hunt was a competition, every lesson a match of wits. They despised each other, and grew stronger because of it. No one dared to assume they’d ever be a couple –not even the hardcore shippers would touch the apparent cacophony. When rumors began to spread about her "kittypet lover" he never stepped forward to set them straight. It had been an accident, after all. It was her mistake to deal with, and his to forget.
KITHOOD
On the morning of her birthing Sedgestrike suffered greatly. Her young body didn’t take well to the process, and the second kitten wouldn’t live to take its first breath. She didn’t outwardly mourn the loss. It was her mother, Garlicflower, who buried the body. The moment the ordeal was over the new mother collapsed in exhaustion. A slender, ginger tail clung tightly to a single, large bundle of white and orange.
As the moons passed, and Rookkit weaned, Sedgestrike proved herself to be an inattentive mother –no surprise there. It wasn’t a lack of love that drew her away. Rather, she was just too immature, too new to the world. There was much she wanted to do –patrol, fight, hunt, flirt- that couldn’t be accomplished stuck in the nursery. Her escapades were allowed, but only just. Garlicflower had already retired to be a permanent queen, and her role allowed her to constantly care for the young tom.
There was a great deal of shade thrown at Sedgestrike for her lack of motherly care. Friends scorned her, peers cursed her, and elders looked down upon the burdened she-cat. It had been her foolishness, after all, which led to her pregnancy. The fact that she wasn’t willing to face the consequences made her seem all the more thoughtless.
Finally, thinking him left to a better life, the mother kissed her son good-bye before joining a border patrol. The last cats to see Sedgestrike said she’d left “just for a moment” to stalk a vole. When the molly didn’t meet up concern blossomed. Countless search parties later they only ever discovered that her scent-trail ended beyond ThunderClan’s border.
For his mother’s mistakes Rookkit was teased ruthlessly in his earliest years. Some of the more aggressive apprentices picked up a taste for scorn from their parents, but lacked the older cats’ maturity to keep it private. So they openly insulted his assumed kittypet heritage, accusing his mother of not loving him enough to stay. To make matters worse, while Garlicflower continued to raise him she grew colder to the child that resembled his mother far too much. She mourned in her own way.
It was in his late kithood that the tom discovered a means to release his tensions. Two new litters were in the nursery. They offered a perfect chance for him to push his growing weight around. They marveled at his size, feared his strength, and cowered at his jabs. Bullying them was easy enough, as long as he smiled and played nice whenever a mother passed too close. Besides, if he got lectured once or twice it didn’t matter, all kits are rambunctious, all kits get into trouble. It’s the age. It’s his mother. Just keep him away.
APPRENTICESHIP
Robinstar was no fool, they knew he needed a firm, but motherly, paw to guide him along the right path. So Rookpaw was paired with Craneheart. The strict, thin molly was devoted to her morals and her training. Her authoritative stance was stifling after his youthful freedom. Worse yet, he struggled horribly in his lessons and failed to follow basic instruction. He wasn’t dumb, necessarily, but he lacked a mind for anything beyond the reach of his paws. Discovering his failures broke whatever confidence the young cat had left from his mother’s mistakes. As a result he grew more aggressive, withdrawn, and reckless.
He continued to intimidate anyone under his limit scope of authority, and began to experiment with extending that horizon. Part of the trick was making a name for himself. So he all too willingly dived into trouble, and exaggerated the adventures that came from it. Craneheart’s patience frayed, and the two came head to head constantly. Still, she insisted that he had promise. She had glimpsed something in the tom, and she hoped to draw it out through persistence. Just one more chance. Give him one more chance.
Slowly, but surely, her actions gained his respect. And by his 10th moon Rookpaw started to shape up. He progressed in his training and even passed a couple of basic assessments. While he still rebelled against her in little, petty ways he began to grow a devoted bond with the molly. It was only a matter of time until the gem she’d seen was revealed for all.
Fate has a terrible sense of humor. Craneheart fell to her death due to one wrong step, one misplaced paw, while climbing a tree. It wasn’t to protect him. It wasn’t to feed the clan or patrol the territory. It was an unjustified death. Slowly it eat him away.
He was allowed to mourn, but leaving the wayward tom without direction was too great a risk. So a new mentor was quickly assigned. Turtlestorm had a particularly rough challenge ahead of her. Craneheart’s progress had imploded upon itself to create a wound that would not heal easily. Rookpaw began to loose hope in the clan all together.
Although he clashed greatly with his mentor at first, the two were simply too much alike, Rookpaw did eventually grow to respect her. With her extra sessions, constant pop-quizzes, and other tactics he passed his final assessments under the deputy's disbelieving eye. He was 17 moons.
WARRIOR
Rookfang's ceremony was uneventful enough. Garlicflower cleaned his pelt into perfect order, and he sat his vigil alongside a friend. The young molly was nearly five moons his junior, but despite the age gap they got along splendidly. It was a pleasant occasion.
Over the next moons Rookfang managed to get his heart broken by his long-time crush, enact revenge, and narrowly avoid being demoted to apprentice. In his defense, she had used his suspected kittypet father against him. It was a low blow totally deserving of her ant-infested nest.
But love wasn't always difficult. He dated a gentle molly, briefly, who seemed to be drawn to his bad-boy attitude. Her parents clearly hated the couple, and before the snow could melt the two split up amiably enough.
These lessons were hard learned, but they each left him a better tom. His patience and communication skills began to develop and grow. However, it wasn't until his first apprentice that Rookfang grew out of his petty childhood ways more firmly.
Yewpaw was quiet, reserved, and particularly scrawny. Their littermates picked on them constantly, and the let-downs tanked their already pale confidence. Because of this they failed to give training their all, and shied away from more difficult exercises. Rookfang was at loss.
But by dealing with the young cat with a gentle and encouraging touch, teaching him to take risks while in turn learning to hold back, Rookfang grew up at last. Yewpelt was promoted to warrior with a tearful send-off.
Meanwhile ShadowClan, confined to their terribly short piece of muddy territory, had begun to push against ThunderClan's edge. The two clans were thrown into a nasty battle. Able to show off his fighting prowess in a means to assist the clan, Rookfang helped lead the charge to victory.
DEPUTY
Robinstar was old, but healthy and spry. She had countless seasons ahead of her and a heart of gold leading her paws. She wanted to prove to the forest, to her clanmates, that patience and guidance could make a cat respectable. See, she was a very high-minded cat, one of those extremely proud do-gooders who care more about their appearance of being charitable than the possible consequences of such an action. And more than that, she wanted to make amends with a she-cat who had gone missing too many moons ago.
Rookfang had proven himself in battle and successfully shown compassion and wisdom when caring for his apprentice. So she chose him as her deputy. While few cats supported the decision, she was adamant. Yewpelt, already a clan favorite, also helped to settle the ruffled pelts with his endless support.
The young deputy proved to be far from ready for leadership. He continued to act with a prideful recklessness, and started more than his fair share of border fights. But when it came to the battlefield he was indispensable, and slowly, but surely, his attitude was showing improvement. All he needed was time.
LEADER
Time he would not get. It became slowly apparent that Robinstar was growing sicker, and sicker, without cure. The cause was a hard, rock-like lump on her hindleg. As the anomaly expanded her life withered. It was an ailment even StarClan's healing could not reverse. The leader's last three lives were taken in the span of only a few moons. ThunderClan was devastated.
The clan would not be able to mourn. For within three moons a terrible an unexpected force known as The Alliance stormed the forest territory. With one decisive blow they overtook the sleeping camp and desolated whatever protection it held. There was no time to act. The attackers were swift and deadly. With precise blows they took out sleeping kits beneath their mother's noses. It took far too long for the camp to swing into action, and by the time it did there were few left.
Rookstar lost a life that night as his own assassin whisked into the cave-den and left him for dead. Upon reviving the leader was welcomed by the screams of his clanmates. Although he tried to fight, throwing himself into the chaos with reckless abandon, there was no hope. He watched as his deputy was cut down before him -his old mentor, Turtlestorm. There was no choice. It was flee, or die. He sounded the retreat.
In the following chaos Rookstar did his best to protect the fleeing cats. More were lost. Those he found he herded towards the nearest safety- ShadowClan. Once there the refugees were invited to stay by Boarstar, although her generosity was limited.
The following five moons were spent in an uneasy union with their former enemies. During the first gathering following the disaster Rookstar called for his former clanmates, scattered as they were, to be thankful to their hosts, but to never forget that their loyalty lies with ThunderClan. For if they lost their loyalty then the clan would truly be no more.
In equal fashion he continues to assert himself within ShadowClan, to Boarstar's great distress. The two leaders bicker constantly, and as Rookstar's fear for his clan's unity grows so too does his desperation. What if they don't get their territory back in time? RiverClan's defeat solidifies his fear, and he's starting to consider what the greater threat is. Would it be worse to loose the great forest all together, but move on to another territory? Or, would it be worth it to sacrifice ThunderClan in order to help keep WindClan and ShadowClan alive?
theuser
OOC USERNAME // spiltmelk
TIME ZONE // est
OTHER CHARACTERS // none
SHOP ITEMS // 20+ moon freebie small injury