Post by Shiningheart on Apr 1, 2013 22:03:17 GMT -5
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Short Description:
Long Description:
Personality:
Once a cat has earned her loyalty, there's no easy way to get rid of it. Tawnystripe's loyalty is never to be questioned, unless you want a couple of boxed ears. The warrior code is her life, but she won't be afraid to break it every once in a while for the good of the Clan. It's an unspoken rule in the code that no single cat is more important than the whole. Tawnystripe says that's a load of dung, and that a Clan is nothing without it's members.
Tawnystripe is the type of she-cat to look death in the eye and make fun of his outfit. That is to say, she isn't afraid to die. If it’s to protect or save someone close to her, she will happily give her life. She doesn't go out of her way to put herself into danger, but it's not usually the first thing on her mind when someone's calling for help.
There are many types of pride. Pride in yourself, pride in your skills, and pride in your Clan. Tawnystripe can be classified as all three. She loves that she's a good fighter. She doesn't flaunt it, but she certainly doesn't hide it. She isn't one of those cats that thinks being powerful gives you the right to do what you want, but that doesn't stop her from cuffing her littermates over the head when they displease her.
Negative: Sharp, Temperamental, Unsympathetic
Tawnystripe's tongue is just as sharp, if not sharper, than her claws. She's been known to make grown cats run away with her words alone. It's something she's quite proud of, and will use even on cats of high authority than her. At least her sharpness ensures that her apprentices listened to her when she told them what to do.
Either that or they were afraid of her temper. Tawnystripe has always been famous, or infamous depending on how you look at it, for her temper. Even the smallest of things will cause Tawnystripe to be angry, and her wrath is just as frightening as StarClan's. Even at Gatherings, the other Clans steer clear of annoying her. Yes, she would never break a truce, but she was still scary enough to send apprentices scurrying after their mentors.
And Tawnystripe never feels sympathetic about it. That's not to say she has no conscience, but she isn't the type to be swayed by a sad story. If someone's lost their parents, she'll say, "You're still alive, aren't you? Get used to it, half-pint, death is as much a part of life as living."
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History:
Graypatch and Hawkstep were two of the most respected warriors in the Clan. It would make sense that they'd found enough common ground to fall in love with each other and have kits. They had three kits: Tawnykit, Briarkit, and Hollykit, in that order. Tawnykit had the same tawny-and-brown coat she does now. Briarkit was an exact copy of Graypatch, down to each white hair and gray splotches. Hollykit's pelt was black as deep water.
Graypatch loved her kits more than life itself. She was always kind to them, loving and caring no matter what they did. Yes, she scolded them and grounded them like a regular mother, but she was always back to normal the next day. Hawkstep was just as proud as his kits, and visited his family regularly. He spent so much time in the nursery the other kits started treating him like an uncle.
Both parents had high hopes for their kittens. Tawnykit was the biggest and most muscular of the trio, despite being a she-cat. She was the best fighter of the trio, and more often than not could pin even the older kits. And boy, did she love flaunting it! Briarkit was pretty much a mama's boy. He cried to Graypatch for everything, even when it was just a teasing word. Graypatch coddled her only son and spoiled him with attention whenever this happened. Hollykit put her pelt to good use, slinking around the camp like a shadow. She heard gossip before anyone else and loved listening in on the inner workings of the Clan.
When six moons came, they were all made into 'paws.
The moment she was able to without being yelled at, Tawnypaw started learning to fight. She used her heavier weight well. Her mentor was a kind-hearted tom named Silversplash, and he disapproved of her affinity for fighting. He tried to teach her mercy and restraint, but the lessons only half-stuck. Tawnypaw never killed anything other than prey, but she always had her claws unsheathed when she patrolled the borders.
Each of her litter had their own specialty when it came to training. Briarpaw was the hunter of the group and usually caught more prey than any of them, even the mentors. Hollypaw was the tracker of the group. She could stalk a cat across the entire forest. You only know she's there if she wants you to. Tawnypaw, predictably, was the fighting expert.
They were each an asset to their Clan, but Tawnypaw shined especially. The tension between ShadowClan and ThunderClan was high. Each Clan accused the other of crossing the border and stealing prey. Tawnypaw herself had never smelled ThunderClan on ShadowClan territory, but who was she to run away from a battle? She'd be a coward, that's what!
The animosity brewed and grew and raged until it broke into a skirmish on the thunderpath. Tawnypaw fought with her siblings at her side. Hollypaw could fend for herself, Tawnypaw knew, but Briarpaw was the weakest of them. Almost at warrior age, he was still a horrible fighter. Tawnypaw spent half the time pulling off warriors from him.
Each Clan has posted a cat to act as a lookout for monsters. The ThunderClan guard yowled a warning, and both Clans scattered. When Tawnypaw was safe, she looked back. She wished she didn't. Graypatch was limping slowly back to the ShadowClan side and leaving a blood trail as she went. Her back leg was pouring blood from a deep gash.
Both Clans, ThunderClan and ShadowClan, urged her to hurry. It seemed like the hostility had been forgotten in the mutual danger. But Graypatch was too slow; the monster hit her and went on it's way, not even acknowledging that it had stopped a fight, killed a cat, and tore Tawnypaw's insides apart. Her mother was dead; she was dead and Tawnypaw was never going to hear her mew or smell her scent or feel her fur ever again.
Warrior
It was a weak feeling that she never wanted to experience again. The battle may have earned them their warrior names, but it was a hollow ceremony. Tawnypaw was henceforth to be known as Tawnystripe, for her pelt. Briarpaw became Briarpatch, in honor and remembrance of their mother. Hollypaw was named Hollyshade, both for her pelt and her sneaking skills.
The Clan healed from it's injuries and life went on. Briarpatch took the longest to heal, though. His emotional wounds were much more prominent than his physical ones. Tawnystripe's brother took seasons to come out of his depression, when even Hawkstep only took a few moons. He's only recently started laughing and smiling again, but Tawnystripe is still happy to see him recovering.[/ul]
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RP Sample:
The moon was rising. Tawnypaw could see outside the entrance to the apprentice's den from the way she was laying down. Every grain of sand, every blade of grass, was outlined in silver. The tortoiseshell apprentice huffed quietly and shifted in her nest, slamming her eyes shut and pleading with herself to go to sleep. Swallowstrike had sent her off to bed earlier, lest she be 'too tired' for a training session in the morning.
But energy thrummed through the she-cat. The training with the older she-cat wasn't nearly as tough as Tawnypaw would like it to be. It left her restless, that need to be up and doing something more. And it was ticking her off, that everyone else in the den was snoring away, keeping her even further away from sleep. Or maybe that was just Bramblepaw, the great lump...[/ul]
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