Post by Jake on Dec 16, 2014 0:31:06 GMT -5
Thistlethroat
» number: 1
»clan: River Clan
» age: in moons 29
» gender: Female
» rank: Warrior
» status: Healthy, old injury doesn't effect movement.
» mentor/apprentice: none
» description: large grey she-cat with green eyes
» appearance: Thistlethroat is a tall stone blue she-cat. Rivaling most toms in length and height with tight muscles that shift beneath her skin with each long step adding to her weight and backing up her size as more than just an intimidation feature. Her facial shape is rather sharp as well, giving her an angular and calculating look on first impression that causes most to mistake her as the unfriendly sort. And while none would say she possesses the patience of an elder with the mistakes of other cats, especially when leading a patrol or talking to apprentices. Those who know her would never call her anything but compassionate with those in need. Her fur is sleek and for its length, rather thick and soft. Her eye are a murky green. Similar to the algae that coat the river rocks near her home. Though her size and piercing features make her look like a rather serious cat she could also be described as beautiful for her lithe movements and glossy coat, shedding water almost as efficiently as an ocean bird. The same things that make her like a snake to hold onto in battle, and just as dangerous.
» personality: assertive, ingenuitive, attentive. sympathetic. wakeful / snappy, suspicious, blunt, risk-taker.
While some are graced by the social fairy who turns turns them into social butterflies Thistlethroat was stung by the social wasp. Who's a lot meaner and a has an interesting sense of humor. The skills that make her shine in stressful situations and as an innovative warrior don't leave when there's nothing to worry about. It's hard to imagine that the cat who radiates confidence in battle and throws out quick well thought out orders when needed is also the cat who can't hold a long conversation without rambling off or saying something to offend the clanmate who simply dared to talk to her. A trait for which she won't openly apologize but curses herself furiously for after any conversation. Even one that went well. "I can't believe I said that. Oh great now he thinks I'm a huge jerk great job idiot!" It doesn't help that she's embarrassed by her own voice. An old injury left her throat scarred and her voice with a permanent rasp. Resulting in a name that originally stood for the grey blue color of her fur and now symbolized a throat that seems as if it has been scrapped raw by thistles. As well as the belief that others see her as strange and undesirable. A trait that also adds to her silence most of the time, a hoarse voice for her age and a lack of verbal tact result in a young she-cat who snaps at others as often as she speaks to them. Its not all bad however her harsh and serious exterior hides the interior of a cat who cares for each member of her clan as if they were her own litter mates and would fight like a mother tiger against any creature who dare threaten them. This protectiveness and loyalty to Riverclan ups her distaste for Thunderclan ten fold and any Thundercat who dared cross the border would be wise to watch their ears if they wanted to keep them. This Protectiveness extends to kits of all kinds and slightly contradicts her hate as she can't help but feel an amount of sympathy for Foxstar.
In battle her strength is in grappling where she deploys her assets recklessly for intimidation and practicality. She utilizes all four paws like a chainsaw and tangles her sleek body with the other cats, unbalancing them and wracking up a number of small scratches as quickly as a lottery machine. This leaves them sore and bloody on every inch, a way of fighting that is very characteristic and any cat with such injuries makes it easy for their clan to deduce who they tangled with. The only side effect is that her high damage style leaves little guard for her own body if they manage to sink their claws into her ever moving hide. She is a scourge to medicine cats as she tends to undermine her own injuries and have to be sought out for treatment. And while she can be seen allowing kits to pounce on her own twitching tail or checking on the elders with tender concern she doesn't tend to be a favorite of apprentices for whom she dishes out no patience. Perhaps the memory of her own escapades as a paw and their consequences lead her to believe that prevention is always better than a cure. And more reliable as well.
» background: Thistlekit was born to Ripplepool as the firstborn of her small litter alongside her only brother and sibling Sootkit. From the beginning she was favored by their mother who said that Thistlekit was born fighting. The story her mom liked to tell of how her first kit mewed in complaint at her first cleaning and lively squirmed to find milk on her own only moments after her birth quickly became a much hated story to her and her smaller brother Sootkit, who rolled their eyes in unison. You would think that favoritism would breed resentment between siblings but for Thistlekit and Sootkit who grew up tangled together in a warm ball at night and racing around camp just to prove they could during the day. Getting on every adults nerves with the dominant Thistlekit in charge. Their differences only made them closer. They knew their mother was just proud of her first litter and her first kit by special extension. Boastful that she had two healthy kits and red with pride at her firstborn daughters size. Thistlekit would accept no better treatment than her brother and over time her mother was content to stop her lavish spoiling attempts and to lavishly spoil both by extension. Through kithood a questioned nagged on both however, who was their father? It was a queens right to not reveal the father of her kits but their mother always assured them that he was full clan and that the two were full Riverclan all the way back to its origins and that she simply wanted to keep her horizons broad and open for the possibility of another litter, the past was the past. Of course Thistlekit was curious but as time went on more important worries pervaded the young cats days.
It wasn't long before the two became apprentices itching to prove themselves. Thistlekit especially who had spent her kithood at the top of the heap leading her brother as if he were her loyal shadow was ready to prove her potential. But it wasn't until they became apprentices and were separated for the majority of every day that Thistlepaw learned that she had her own drawbacks. While Sootpaw learned confidence and independence, Thistlepaw became more humble. As a kit she had lead her brother who would have leaped off a cliff if she told him he could fly. And as a result she was very proud and boastful in all her abilities but as time went on and he began to make other friends she was left lonely. While her and Sootpaw were both still very close she came to the realization that she needed him a whole lot more than he needed her. It was only then that she began to excel in her training. In a moon she went from a mediocre apprentice floundering in her training and moping over the lost companionship of her littermate to a prodigy. Before she had been unable to focus but once she realized that she had to live for herself and for her whole clan she excelled. When she began to pay attention and use the physical prowess she was born with a different ability arose. She was a wonderful tactician. In battle she tended to be reckless, throwing every ounce of herself into the fray with abandon, not to negative effect mind you. But when she though things out she could solve problems in the field easily, even with multiple variables and to the delight of her mentor. She applied herself fully in ever endeavor and it looked like she was set to graduate two full moons early until she made a grave mistake.
Riverclan was in the middle of a food shortage, strange for the clan who had fish year round. It wasn't to bad really but the sight of her clan going with less filled her with the desire to provide. She convinced her brother to come hunting with her and that if they were quick they could be back before they were missed. Sootpaw was weary of the idea but tagged along, the two easily falling back into their old routine. And with the return of kit-like habits fled caution. When they reached the small twoleg farm just outside of Riverclan territory Things seemed promising. Sootpaw flushed out hoards of mice that had grown complacent on little hunting and Thistlepaw would intercept their escape. Before they left with their catch however she decided to do some investigating. A large portable twoleg den stood abandoned, propped up on blocks and surrounded by foul smelling glass bottles. She climbed through a window and was poking around inside when the fire started. A twoleg who hadn't followed the words of smoky the bear has left a fire smoldering and all it took was a few strong gusts to blow cinders and sparks into the piled of rotting leaves stacked against the sides of the RV and excelerated by the remainder of the liquid inside the bottles. Within seconds a blaze had started. By the time she heard her brothers calls the Rv it's self had caught and thick acrid smoke was blowing in through the windows, and rising up through the vents. The dry bedding left inside caught quickly as well. Without any vision it took her ten minutes to find the window. Ten minutes of breathing in acrid plastic smoke, scorching hot sparks and burning debris. following what she could hear of her brothers calls through the growing blaze. By the time she pulled herself out of the RV she was as black as her brother. Taking wild breaths of fresh air and coughing blood and black mucus. When she was far from the RV Sootpaw took off back to camp for help.
At first she was called lucky, then stupid as she began to improve. The damage to her throat and lungs was such that she spent the next two moons in the medicin cats den. She was only able to speak after the first moon and despite a liberal amount of honey her voice was still hoarse and scratchy after the second, when she was released to take her warriors exam. She passed with flying colors and went on to take her warrior name of Thistlethroat alongside her brother Sootleaf. Her for the roughness that has lessened over time but will never go away and him for his calm nature. Along with the burnt leaves that coated his fur as he ran into camp after the fire shouting for help. Since then she has grown into a mature warrior, learning from her mistakes and yearning to teach others. On the night of the battle of fourtree's she was confined to the camp after a coughing spell brought upon by a chilly night. But when news of the battle reached her she rushed to join her brother despite her recommended confinement and the two siblings fought and survived thanks to each other. But their mother wasn't so lucky. And once again, together, they mourned. Now a days Thistleclaw and Sootleaf are much more independent. They still are close and make a wonderful team together and the two often talk but the siblings who were bonded at the hip are no more and they have found truly found themselves. She is still very young but since those times she has learned to better take orders and to used her head. Her prickly nature only grew since the battle and the fire but so did her experience and with that she hopes to train an apprentice of her own some day. Perhaps she can teach them to be less of a bee brain than she was. She can only get better with time and scorns the idea that Thornstar is to blame for Starclans absence. A cat is a cat if they prove themselves. No fancy breeding will improve character. And she still believes strongly in Starclan but if she could speak to them right now they would have to suffer through a long and very harsh toned scolding. Despite having come mostly to terms with her new voice she sometimes wonders what her name would have been without it. Something cool probably.
immediate kin
» mate: none
» sons: none
» daughters: none
extended kin
» father: unclaimed
» mother:Ripplepool
» brothers: Sootleaf
» sisters:None
» number: 1
»clan: River Clan
» age: in moons 29
» gender: Female
» rank: Warrior
» status: Healthy, old injury doesn't effect movement.
» mentor/apprentice: none
» description: large grey she-cat with green eyes
» appearance: Thistlethroat is a tall stone blue she-cat. Rivaling most toms in length and height with tight muscles that shift beneath her skin with each long step adding to her weight and backing up her size as more than just an intimidation feature. Her facial shape is rather sharp as well, giving her an angular and calculating look on first impression that causes most to mistake her as the unfriendly sort. And while none would say she possesses the patience of an elder with the mistakes of other cats, especially when leading a patrol or talking to apprentices. Those who know her would never call her anything but compassionate with those in need. Her fur is sleek and for its length, rather thick and soft. Her eye are a murky green. Similar to the algae that coat the river rocks near her home. Though her size and piercing features make her look like a rather serious cat she could also be described as beautiful for her lithe movements and glossy coat, shedding water almost as efficiently as an ocean bird. The same things that make her like a snake to hold onto in battle, and just as dangerous.
» personality: assertive, ingenuitive, attentive. sympathetic. wakeful / snappy, suspicious, blunt, risk-taker.
While some are graced by the social fairy who turns turns them into social butterflies Thistlethroat was stung by the social wasp. Who's a lot meaner and a has an interesting sense of humor. The skills that make her shine in stressful situations and as an innovative warrior don't leave when there's nothing to worry about. It's hard to imagine that the cat who radiates confidence in battle and throws out quick well thought out orders when needed is also the cat who can't hold a long conversation without rambling off or saying something to offend the clanmate who simply dared to talk to her. A trait for which she won't openly apologize but curses herself furiously for after any conversation. Even one that went well. "I can't believe I said that. Oh great now he thinks I'm a huge jerk great job idiot!" It doesn't help that she's embarrassed by her own voice. An old injury left her throat scarred and her voice with a permanent rasp. Resulting in a name that originally stood for the grey blue color of her fur and now symbolized a throat that seems as if it has been scrapped raw by thistles. As well as the belief that others see her as strange and undesirable. A trait that also adds to her silence most of the time, a hoarse voice for her age and a lack of verbal tact result in a young she-cat who snaps at others as often as she speaks to them. Its not all bad however her harsh and serious exterior hides the interior of a cat who cares for each member of her clan as if they were her own litter mates and would fight like a mother tiger against any creature who dare threaten them. This protectiveness and loyalty to Riverclan ups her distaste for Thunderclan ten fold and any Thundercat who dared cross the border would be wise to watch their ears if they wanted to keep them. This Protectiveness extends to kits of all kinds and slightly contradicts her hate as she can't help but feel an amount of sympathy for Foxstar.
In battle her strength is in grappling where she deploys her assets recklessly for intimidation and practicality. She utilizes all four paws like a chainsaw and tangles her sleek body with the other cats, unbalancing them and wracking up a number of small scratches as quickly as a lottery machine. This leaves them sore and bloody on every inch, a way of fighting that is very characteristic and any cat with such injuries makes it easy for their clan to deduce who they tangled with. The only side effect is that her high damage style leaves little guard for her own body if they manage to sink their claws into her ever moving hide. She is a scourge to medicine cats as she tends to undermine her own injuries and have to be sought out for treatment. And while she can be seen allowing kits to pounce on her own twitching tail or checking on the elders with tender concern she doesn't tend to be a favorite of apprentices for whom she dishes out no patience. Perhaps the memory of her own escapades as a paw and their consequences lead her to believe that prevention is always better than a cure. And more reliable as well.
» background: Thistlekit was born to Ripplepool as the firstborn of her small litter alongside her only brother and sibling Sootkit. From the beginning she was favored by their mother who said that Thistlekit was born fighting. The story her mom liked to tell of how her first kit mewed in complaint at her first cleaning and lively squirmed to find milk on her own only moments after her birth quickly became a much hated story to her and her smaller brother Sootkit, who rolled their eyes in unison. You would think that favoritism would breed resentment between siblings but for Thistlekit and Sootkit who grew up tangled together in a warm ball at night and racing around camp just to prove they could during the day. Getting on every adults nerves with the dominant Thistlekit in charge. Their differences only made them closer. They knew their mother was just proud of her first litter and her first kit by special extension. Boastful that she had two healthy kits and red with pride at her firstborn daughters size. Thistlekit would accept no better treatment than her brother and over time her mother was content to stop her lavish spoiling attempts and to lavishly spoil both by extension. Through kithood a questioned nagged on both however, who was their father? It was a queens right to not reveal the father of her kits but their mother always assured them that he was full clan and that the two were full Riverclan all the way back to its origins and that she simply wanted to keep her horizons broad and open for the possibility of another litter, the past was the past. Of course Thistlekit was curious but as time went on more important worries pervaded the young cats days.
It wasn't long before the two became apprentices itching to prove themselves. Thistlekit especially who had spent her kithood at the top of the heap leading her brother as if he were her loyal shadow was ready to prove her potential. But it wasn't until they became apprentices and were separated for the majority of every day that Thistlepaw learned that she had her own drawbacks. While Sootpaw learned confidence and independence, Thistlepaw became more humble. As a kit she had lead her brother who would have leaped off a cliff if she told him he could fly. And as a result she was very proud and boastful in all her abilities but as time went on and he began to make other friends she was left lonely. While her and Sootpaw were both still very close she came to the realization that she needed him a whole lot more than he needed her. It was only then that she began to excel in her training. In a moon she went from a mediocre apprentice floundering in her training and moping over the lost companionship of her littermate to a prodigy. Before she had been unable to focus but once she realized that she had to live for herself and for her whole clan she excelled. When she began to pay attention and use the physical prowess she was born with a different ability arose. She was a wonderful tactician. In battle she tended to be reckless, throwing every ounce of herself into the fray with abandon, not to negative effect mind you. But when she though things out she could solve problems in the field easily, even with multiple variables and to the delight of her mentor. She applied herself fully in ever endeavor and it looked like she was set to graduate two full moons early until she made a grave mistake.
Riverclan was in the middle of a food shortage, strange for the clan who had fish year round. It wasn't to bad really but the sight of her clan going with less filled her with the desire to provide. She convinced her brother to come hunting with her and that if they were quick they could be back before they were missed. Sootpaw was weary of the idea but tagged along, the two easily falling back into their old routine. And with the return of kit-like habits fled caution. When they reached the small twoleg farm just outside of Riverclan territory Things seemed promising. Sootpaw flushed out hoards of mice that had grown complacent on little hunting and Thistlepaw would intercept their escape. Before they left with their catch however she decided to do some investigating. A large portable twoleg den stood abandoned, propped up on blocks and surrounded by foul smelling glass bottles. She climbed through a window and was poking around inside when the fire started. A twoleg who hadn't followed the words of smoky the bear has left a fire smoldering and all it took was a few strong gusts to blow cinders and sparks into the piled of rotting leaves stacked against the sides of the RV and excelerated by the remainder of the liquid inside the bottles. Within seconds a blaze had started. By the time she heard her brothers calls the Rv it's self had caught and thick acrid smoke was blowing in through the windows, and rising up through the vents. The dry bedding left inside caught quickly as well. Without any vision it took her ten minutes to find the window. Ten minutes of breathing in acrid plastic smoke, scorching hot sparks and burning debris. following what she could hear of her brothers calls through the growing blaze. By the time she pulled herself out of the RV she was as black as her brother. Taking wild breaths of fresh air and coughing blood and black mucus. When she was far from the RV Sootpaw took off back to camp for help.
At first she was called lucky, then stupid as she began to improve. The damage to her throat and lungs was such that she spent the next two moons in the medicin cats den. She was only able to speak after the first moon and despite a liberal amount of honey her voice was still hoarse and scratchy after the second, when she was released to take her warriors exam. She passed with flying colors and went on to take her warrior name of Thistlethroat alongside her brother Sootleaf. Her for the roughness that has lessened over time but will never go away and him for his calm nature. Along with the burnt leaves that coated his fur as he ran into camp after the fire shouting for help. Since then she has grown into a mature warrior, learning from her mistakes and yearning to teach others. On the night of the battle of fourtree's she was confined to the camp after a coughing spell brought upon by a chilly night. But when news of the battle reached her she rushed to join her brother despite her recommended confinement and the two siblings fought and survived thanks to each other. But their mother wasn't so lucky. And once again, together, they mourned. Now a days Thistleclaw and Sootleaf are much more independent. They still are close and make a wonderful team together and the two often talk but the siblings who were bonded at the hip are no more and they have found truly found themselves. She is still very young but since those times she has learned to better take orders and to used her head. Her prickly nature only grew since the battle and the fire but so did her experience and with that she hopes to train an apprentice of her own some day. Perhaps she can teach them to be less of a bee brain than she was. She can only get better with time and scorns the idea that Thornstar is to blame for Starclans absence. A cat is a cat if they prove themselves. No fancy breeding will improve character. And she still believes strongly in Starclan but if she could speak to them right now they would have to suffer through a long and very harsh toned scolding. Despite having come mostly to terms with her new voice she sometimes wonders what her name would have been without it. Something cool probably.
immediate kin
» mate: none
» sons: none
» daughters: none
extended kin
» father: unclaimed
» mother:
» brothers: Sootleaf
» sisters:None