Post by Rabiddog on Aug 18, 2013 14:41:42 GMT -6
thornshadow
and the arms of the ocean are carrying me
NAME: Thornshadow
AGE: 42 moons
GENDER: Tom
CLAN: ThunderClan
RANK: Warrior
and all this devotion was rushing out of me
SHORT DESCRIPTION:
Tall brown tom with green eyes.
APPEARANCE:
Thornshadow is the epitome of elegance and grace (well, so he likes to think). He is lean, slender, really, wiry. He almost looks like a WindClan cat, if you look closely enough and don’t mind losing your eyes to his claws, his lightly-tipped claws. His tail and legs both are long, granting him a height greater than his build might originally suggest. His face is more pointed than an average Clan cat’s, though his ears have slightly rounded – blunted, really – tips.
As far as coloring goes, Thornshadow is solid brown, a sort of rich reddish brown color. His back, however, is a darker shade, like a, well, like a shadow. On his face, it looks as if this could be some sort of manifestation of a tabby gene, since there are tiny, very faint stripes. His nose is a dusty rose color, and his mouth is white, as are his whiskers. His eyes are bright green.
Image set here
As far as coloring goes, Thornshadow is solid brown, a sort of rich reddish brown color. His back, however, is a darker shade, like a, well, like a shadow. On his face, it looks as if this could be some sort of manifestation of a tabby gene, since there are tiny, very faint stripes. His nose is a dusty rose color, and his mouth is white, as are his whiskers. His eyes are bright green.
Image set here
and the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me
STRENGTHS:
- Intelligent
- Ambitious
- Quick
- Quick-thinking
- Confident
- Confident
- Political thinker
- Efficient
- Experienced
WEAKNESSES:
- Lack of true respect for anything
- Disconnect from emotions
- three
- Lack of firm belief in StarClan
- Suspicious and mistrustful
- Ambitious
- Used to getting his way
- Relishes in any sort of power
- Harsh, unforgiving
PERSONALITY:
Thornshadow carries himself with confidence and speaks with authority, even if he has no clue about what he’s speaking. Normally, those situations don’t happen – according to him. His is proud, though not to a fault. Just enough, just enough confidence to feed his drive; he knows he’ll die, though, when put in circumstances caused by foolishness. He prefers not to be a fool. He does judge fools, however, quite harshly. Really, he judges everyone harshly and has very high standards for cats to meet. Does this make him come across as arrogant or snobby sometimes? Sure, of course it does. He doesn’t always let his contempt show, but when he does, ooh, it’s palpable. Now, he’s not one to mock or jeer, but he is fairly good at picking out a weak spot and twisting with just the perfect amount of malice to get what he wants. He always gets what he wants, he likes to think. He will do whatever it takes; withholding the subject of his desire only makes him want it more.
Of course, nothing is personal for Thornshadow. It’s all business, the business of the Clan and so forth. He is incredibly efficient, not speaking back when given a direct order, never doing anything unnecessary. Given a task, he will pursue it immediately and swiftly, doing what’s needed to be done. That’s what he does: Thornshadow does what must be done. He isn’t troubled by those petty, silly little qualms stemming from morals. Morals don’t mean much to him – follow the law, and if you are the law, then do what is best for the Clan. Or what you want. But mostly do what is best. He has been raised on stories of heroes, cats who are selfless. While he knows he never will be the selfless hero sort, he also believes that he can contribute nicely, be a good Clan cat and all that, whatever that means.
Still, Thornshadow doesn’t find himself confined by those little, minor roles. He doesn’t want to be just a warrior of ThunderClan, then an elder, or die while still in action. No, certainly not. Thornshadow has ambition, both for himself and for his Clan. He is a staunch believer that his Clan is the best – after all, they have the best territory, the most fruitful, water in camp, so forth – and that should lead them to be stronger, which should lead them to do what they please. But he also knows that the weak can grow to be strong and vice versa, and no cat holds the knowledge of which will be which; one must display a certain amount of respect for all. While Thornshadow is harsh and stern, he is so with everyone, so none can complain about being the sole target of his malice. And, in a way, it isn’t true malice he’s displaying, simply a version of impatience or a taste for perfection.
He knows how to deal with cats, though. Thornshadow is a mature warrior and has had plenty of experience; he is fairly wise, and tends not to make rookie mistakes. When he does, he curses himself for it, and then others, and then extracts his revenge in due time. Ah, yes, in due time. While above it says that Thornshadow can be a bit of an impatient tom, he really isn’t. When he has cause to be patient, he can wait things out for a very long time, wait and watch, until the time is perfect. He’s had a few chances to test this out in the past, and it’s worked like a charm. He’s generally able to see the big picture – repercussions, consequences, ripple effects – quickly and easily, a talent he was born with (though he doesn’t always care, and there’s a difference).
Two things Thornshadow despises are cowards and hypocrites, liars. So, he vows never to be one himself. Both are tantamount to betrayal, and betrayal is equal to murder, in his eyes, and murder ends bloodlines, stops Clans from thriving – usually. Occasionally necessary, in his opinion, death. Although he has limited faith in StarClan, and a general mistrust of everything that he can’t touch, Thornshadow still wishes cats a good journey. Maybe they’ll be happier up there, right? Not that he always wants those cats who die to be happy. But, alas. Back to Thornshadow’s feelings on cowards and liars. Easily, he can avoid the coward situation: Thornshadow simply puts everything he does in the context of the “greater good”, and suddenly not dying in a foolish fight is very brave indeed, pushing on to endure more difficult trials that a few exchanges of scars. The lying, however, is more difficult, although, with his political mind, Thornshadow always seems to find a way out of it. He sometimes speaks cryptically, avoiding specifics, staying general, so that he can never be accused of lying. And, when he makes a promise, he keeps it, he forces himself to keep all promises as if they were sacred blood vows. Understandably, he tries not to make too many grand, sweeping promises to anyone ever. If he says he’ll help, he will, although that might not mean exactly what you think – and if he doesn’t specify which side he’s helping, well, that could pose a problem for you, now couldn’t it? No, though, he doesn’t normally play the part of the traitor. Thornshadow relies a great deal on trust, on his reputation, and he is loath to tarnish that sort of splendor on something petty. If he’s going to be a traitor, it’s going to be big, and it’s going to be meaningful.
Ever since Thornshadow was a kit, he’s gotten what he’s wanted, normally just by having his wishes granted by someone older. He was an only surviving kit of his litter, so his parents and older siblings doted on him, marveled over his cleverness and quickness, how he always seemed to be able to get himself out of trouble, treated every minor scratch as a blow to their own throats. He has gotten used to that sort of power, though he’s learned that it’s not all given on a platter – sometimes, he has to work for it. If he does have to, it makes him want it all that more. He will take what he wants, if he sees any sort of opportunity.
Of course, nothing is personal for Thornshadow. It’s all business, the business of the Clan and so forth. He is incredibly efficient, not speaking back when given a direct order, never doing anything unnecessary. Given a task, he will pursue it immediately and swiftly, doing what’s needed to be done. That’s what he does: Thornshadow does what must be done. He isn’t troubled by those petty, silly little qualms stemming from morals. Morals don’t mean much to him – follow the law, and if you are the law, then do what is best for the Clan. Or what you want. But mostly do what is best. He has been raised on stories of heroes, cats who are selfless. While he knows he never will be the selfless hero sort, he also believes that he can contribute nicely, be a good Clan cat and all that, whatever that means.
Still, Thornshadow doesn’t find himself confined by those little, minor roles. He doesn’t want to be just a warrior of ThunderClan, then an elder, or die while still in action. No, certainly not. Thornshadow has ambition, both for himself and for his Clan. He is a staunch believer that his Clan is the best – after all, they have the best territory, the most fruitful, water in camp, so forth – and that should lead them to be stronger, which should lead them to do what they please. But he also knows that the weak can grow to be strong and vice versa, and no cat holds the knowledge of which will be which; one must display a certain amount of respect for all. While Thornshadow is harsh and stern, he is so with everyone, so none can complain about being the sole target of his malice. And, in a way, it isn’t true malice he’s displaying, simply a version of impatience or a taste for perfection.
He knows how to deal with cats, though. Thornshadow is a mature warrior and has had plenty of experience; he is fairly wise, and tends not to make rookie mistakes. When he does, he curses himself for it, and then others, and then extracts his revenge in due time. Ah, yes, in due time. While above it says that Thornshadow can be a bit of an impatient tom, he really isn’t. When he has cause to be patient, he can wait things out for a very long time, wait and watch, until the time is perfect. He’s had a few chances to test this out in the past, and it’s worked like a charm. He’s generally able to see the big picture – repercussions, consequences, ripple effects – quickly and easily, a talent he was born with (though he doesn’t always care, and there’s a difference).
Two things Thornshadow despises are cowards and hypocrites, liars. So, he vows never to be one himself. Both are tantamount to betrayal, and betrayal is equal to murder, in his eyes, and murder ends bloodlines, stops Clans from thriving – usually. Occasionally necessary, in his opinion, death. Although he has limited faith in StarClan, and a general mistrust of everything that he can’t touch, Thornshadow still wishes cats a good journey. Maybe they’ll be happier up there, right? Not that he always wants those cats who die to be happy. But, alas. Back to Thornshadow’s feelings on cowards and liars. Easily, he can avoid the coward situation: Thornshadow simply puts everything he does in the context of the “greater good”, and suddenly not dying in a foolish fight is very brave indeed, pushing on to endure more difficult trials that a few exchanges of scars. The lying, however, is more difficult, although, with his political mind, Thornshadow always seems to find a way out of it. He sometimes speaks cryptically, avoiding specifics, staying general, so that he can never be accused of lying. And, when he makes a promise, he keeps it, he forces himself to keep all promises as if they were sacred blood vows. Understandably, he tries not to make too many grand, sweeping promises to anyone ever. If he says he’ll help, he will, although that might not mean exactly what you think – and if he doesn’t specify which side he’s helping, well, that could pose a problem for you, now couldn’t it? No, though, he doesn’t normally play the part of the traitor. Thornshadow relies a great deal on trust, on his reputation, and he is loath to tarnish that sort of splendor on something petty. If he’s going to be a traitor, it’s going to be big, and it’s going to be meaningful.
Ever since Thornshadow was a kit, he’s gotten what he’s wanted, normally just by having his wishes granted by someone older. He was an only surviving kit of his litter, so his parents and older siblings doted on him, marveled over his cleverness and quickness, how he always seemed to be able to get himself out of trouble, treated every minor scratch as a blow to their own throats. He has gotten used to that sort of power, though he’s learned that it’s not all given on a platter – sometimes, he has to work for it. If he does have to, it makes him want it all that more. He will take what he wants, if he sees any sort of opportunity.
but the arms of the ocean delivered me
MOTHER: Frostedgaze – nearly blind tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat, renamed, former name was Cloverfoot (79 moons, ThunderClan elder, retired deputy)
FATHER: Mudsplatter – big brown tom (80 moons, elder, ThunderClan)
SIBLINGS:
Batnose – tall black she-cat (53 moons, respected ThunderClan warrior)
OTHER FAMILY: Niece: Leafchaser –light brown tabby she-cat with green eyes (25 moons, ThunderClan warrior, Batnose’s first litter)
Nephews:
Tigerstrike – dark brown tabby tom with green eyes (25 moons, ThunderClan warrior, Batnose’s first litter)
Mate:
Daughters:
Leopardpaw – golden-brown tabby she-cat with leopard-like spots (10 moons, ThunderClan apprentice)
Streampaw – flecked silver tabby she-cat (10 moons, ThunderClan apprentice)
MENTOR:
HISTORY:
Thornshadow was born to a pair of cats who were very happy. Although they already had lost a son, Tigerpaw, two moons before, they were excitedly anticipating the birth of their second litter. They were slightly older parents, it would seem, and hadn’t rushed into parenthood. Mudsplatter and Cloverfoot loved each other very dearly and were very compassionate, loyal warriors, respectable sort. So, of course, it was an even greater tragedy when two of their three kits were stillborn. Still, they named them so that the kits might have a name and place in StarClan. The final kit was surprisingly healthy for such a damaged litter, and they named him Thornkit – for how fiercely he suckled, in truth, though they told everyone it was after his mother’s mother’s father, a tom named Darkthorn.
Thornkit had a very happy kithood. He quickly learned how to talk himself out of trouble, and how to “cute” himself out, as well, and he had very happy older sisters and parents. Thornkit found himself feeling very close to his elder sisters, Poppyleaf in particular; they were new warriors, almost exactly twelve moons old when their brother was born, and were enthusiastic to protect him once they had their warrior names. They helped to spoil him, so pleased as they were with their clever, charming younger brother.
On the night that Thornkit was named an apprentice, there was an attack on the camp by a wandering fox, which rather seemed slightly confused, frazzled, and nonplussed by the entire situation. Thornpaw’s named mentor, Fishwhisker, was seriously injured during the fighting, and the deputy at the time was killed. Still bloody from the battle, the leader leapt up and announced a new deputy: Cloverfoot. Thornpaw was bursting with pride both for his mother and for himself. He tried to do a little fighting, but only ended up being pushed away so that the older warriors could handle it.
Smallstar took over Thornpaw’s training for a while as they waited for Fishwhisker to recover, though, unfortunately, the warrior never did. Instead of retaining Thornpaw as an apprentice permanently, Smallstar named him a new mentor, a wise warrior named Whitelion. Whitelion was, in a way, almost everything Thornpaw wanted to be: big, strong, and, most importantly, respected. He had a deep laugh, one that Thornpaw heard frequently. Whitelion liked to train fiercely and with plenty of commentary, critical commentary, to make sure Thornpaw didn’t get distracted, but also could work on improvement. They bonded during their few moons together.
Thornpaw passed his examination and was made a warrior, dubbed Thornshadow, for his skill at stalking and for the coloring on his back. He sat his vigil alone, reminded of the brothers he never had, dead right out of the womb. It was uneventful, though miserable, and rained, and was hot and muggy and uncomfortable overall. A couple of cats, bored and unable to sleep, approached him and tried to spark up conversation, whether jokingly or absent mindedly or whatever, though he remained silent. He had to fulfill his duty. That was something that his parents instilled in him, the idea of duty, of honor, of doing what the Clan needed, if not what always was right. Right and wrong were never as clear cut as they seemed.
About a season after Thornshadow was named a warrior, a bout of greencough swept through ThunderClan. He had whitecough, never so series as greencough, but his older sister, Poppyleaf, did catch the deadlier version. Just as it seemed she might recover, she was taken to StarClan. Thornshadow mourned appropriately, outwardly, but inside was churning with fury and grief. He didn’t blame himself – that would be silly – but he blamed just about everyone else. The medicine cat, their parents, their dead siblings, the other Clans, StarClan. Mostly StarClan, in a way, for taking away almost everyone he cared about.
The same moon that Poppyleaf died, Thornshadow’s other sister, Batnose, the last remaining kit from that litter, gave birth: two toms and a she-cat. One of the kits, Spiderkit, a tom, was a tortoiseshell and very sickly. Try as they did to help the little one, he died only a few days after being born, leaving Batnose with Tigerkit and Leafkit, named after Tigerpaw and Poppyleaf respectively. Thornshadow quickly became protective of these kits, though he was somewhat uncomfortable around the young, vulnerable, fragile creatures who so liked to run around and be happy creatures.
This was a very busy time in Thornshadow’s life, for it also was around this time that he started noticing a she-cat, a gray tabby who had always struck him as somewhat dull, boring, and cloying – she always had gotten on his nerves, she always was just too good all the time, and it was irritating. At the time, she was just Shadepaw, though her mentor was Mudsplatter, Thornshadow’s father. Thornshadow still spent a great deal of time with his family specifically, so, naturally, around her as well. The two young cats started spending more time together, though nothing really came of it, just time spent in each other’s proximity. When she became a warrior, however, named Shadeflower, then Thornshadow began to notice her some more, and, in fact, she him, though he didn’t know it.
About four seasons after greencough took Poppyleaf, another sickness hit Thornshadow’s family: Clovertail was struck blind by an unknown illness. The medicine cat said, frankly, she was fortunate not to be dead. Clovertail asked to be removed from her position of deputy and, if the leader was going to change her name, not make it an ugly one. The leader complied and named her Frostedgaze for her blindness, and Clovertail retreated to the elder’s den.
When Thornshadow was 23 moons, his niece and nephew were about to be named apprentices. Thornshadow was appointed Leafpaw’s mentor, and was pleased. Shadeflower, on the other paw, seemed to be noticed by some other toms in the Clan. Thornshadow’s competitive nature sparked, and he started to look for the perfect moment to catch her. In fact, she was starting to be drawn to Thornshadow’s old mentor, Whitelion, who was old enough to be her grandfather. Thornshadow just watched and waited. Whitelion approached Thornshadow and asked him if he would help solidify Shadeflower’s attentions. Thornshadow agreed to exactly what Whitelion requested: he would solidify Shadeflower’s attentions.
Thornshadow waited until he could get the three of them, plus the deputy, on a border patrol together. Thornshadow nodded to Whitelion slightly when they got to the border. An enemy patrol appeared and started talking with them. The deputy was leading the conversation, but Whitelion glanced at Thornshadow, questioning whether this was a setup. Thornshadow twitched his whiskers, holding his former mentor’s gaze, and Whitelion just took it from there. He started getting aggressive, puffing up, trying to be a big guy. The deputy, of course, was furious, but Whitelion wasn’t listening. Just before a fight was about to erupt, Thornshadow stepped forward and defused the situation. When they were back at camp alone, Whitelion snapped at Thornshadow for letting that happen. “I didn’t let anything happen,” Thornshadow rebutted. “I stopped it from happening, Whitelion.” Grudgingly, Whitelion replied, “You gave me a signal.” Thornshadow shook his head and responded that he hadn’t.
Soon after, Shadeflower confessed her attraction to Thornshadow, and that was that. When Thornshadow was 32 moons, Shadeflower gave birth to two she-cats, beautiful in Thornshadow’s opinion. There was nothing more beautiful to him that his pair of daughters. They named them Leopardkit and Streamkit, gold and silver as they were. And, after Leafpaw was made Leafchaser, around the time of this – promoted early because of a rather vital skirmish with WindClan, along with her brother – Thornshadow was without an apprentice. His first time as a mentor went along perfectly, swimmingly, so on and so forth, and he couldn’t be prouder of his niece and nephew.
When it came time for Thornshadow’s own daughters to be made apprentices, however, tragedy struck. Only a few days after Leopardkit and Streamkit became Leopardpaw and Streampaw, Shadeflower was killed by a fox while out on patrol. Thornshadow mourned and grieved, but felt guilty because he didn’t feel nearly as much as what the other cats were displaying. Did he truly love her? Had he ever? Or was she just some prize to be won? He couldn’t understand, and so he refused to try; he was who he was, and, while this death was saddening, it didn’t hurt as much as it could have. Thornshadow’s daughters, naturally, were very upset, and even Batnose and her kits grieved more than Thornshadow.
In the four moons since Shadeflower’s death, Thornshadow has easily moved on, though to what, even he doesn’t quite know. They haven’t been too eventful, though Thornshadow has high hopes for his future, and for making certain that events do unfold.
Thornkit had a very happy kithood. He quickly learned how to talk himself out of trouble, and how to “cute” himself out, as well, and he had very happy older sisters and parents. Thornkit found himself feeling very close to his elder sisters, Poppyleaf in particular; they were new warriors, almost exactly twelve moons old when their brother was born, and were enthusiastic to protect him once they had their warrior names. They helped to spoil him, so pleased as they were with their clever, charming younger brother.
On the night that Thornkit was named an apprentice, there was an attack on the camp by a wandering fox, which rather seemed slightly confused, frazzled, and nonplussed by the entire situation. Thornpaw’s named mentor, Fishwhisker, was seriously injured during the fighting, and the deputy at the time was killed. Still bloody from the battle, the leader leapt up and announced a new deputy: Cloverfoot. Thornpaw was bursting with pride both for his mother and for himself. He tried to do a little fighting, but only ended up being pushed away so that the older warriors could handle it.
Smallstar took over Thornpaw’s training for a while as they waited for Fishwhisker to recover, though, unfortunately, the warrior never did. Instead of retaining Thornpaw as an apprentice permanently, Smallstar named him a new mentor, a wise warrior named Whitelion. Whitelion was, in a way, almost everything Thornpaw wanted to be: big, strong, and, most importantly, respected. He had a deep laugh, one that Thornpaw heard frequently. Whitelion liked to train fiercely and with plenty of commentary, critical commentary, to make sure Thornpaw didn’t get distracted, but also could work on improvement. They bonded during their few moons together.
Thornpaw passed his examination and was made a warrior, dubbed Thornshadow, for his skill at stalking and for the coloring on his back. He sat his vigil alone, reminded of the brothers he never had, dead right out of the womb. It was uneventful, though miserable, and rained, and was hot and muggy and uncomfortable overall. A couple of cats, bored and unable to sleep, approached him and tried to spark up conversation, whether jokingly or absent mindedly or whatever, though he remained silent. He had to fulfill his duty. That was something that his parents instilled in him, the idea of duty, of honor, of doing what the Clan needed, if not what always was right. Right and wrong were never as clear cut as they seemed.
About a season after Thornshadow was named a warrior, a bout of greencough swept through ThunderClan. He had whitecough, never so series as greencough, but his older sister, Poppyleaf, did catch the deadlier version. Just as it seemed she might recover, she was taken to StarClan. Thornshadow mourned appropriately, outwardly, but inside was churning with fury and grief. He didn’t blame himself – that would be silly – but he blamed just about everyone else. The medicine cat, their parents, their dead siblings, the other Clans, StarClan. Mostly StarClan, in a way, for taking away almost everyone he cared about.
The same moon that Poppyleaf died, Thornshadow’s other sister, Batnose, the last remaining kit from that litter, gave birth: two toms and a she-cat. One of the kits, Spiderkit, a tom, was a tortoiseshell and very sickly. Try as they did to help the little one, he died only a few days after being born, leaving Batnose with Tigerkit and Leafkit, named after Tigerpaw and Poppyleaf respectively. Thornshadow quickly became protective of these kits, though he was somewhat uncomfortable around the young, vulnerable, fragile creatures who so liked to run around and be happy creatures.
This was a very busy time in Thornshadow’s life, for it also was around this time that he started noticing a she-cat, a gray tabby who had always struck him as somewhat dull, boring, and cloying – she always had gotten on his nerves, she always was just too good all the time, and it was irritating. At the time, she was just Shadepaw, though her mentor was Mudsplatter, Thornshadow’s father. Thornshadow still spent a great deal of time with his family specifically, so, naturally, around her as well. The two young cats started spending more time together, though nothing really came of it, just time spent in each other’s proximity. When she became a warrior, however, named Shadeflower, then Thornshadow began to notice her some more, and, in fact, she him, though he didn’t know it.
About four seasons after greencough took Poppyleaf, another sickness hit Thornshadow’s family: Clovertail was struck blind by an unknown illness. The medicine cat said, frankly, she was fortunate not to be dead. Clovertail asked to be removed from her position of deputy and, if the leader was going to change her name, not make it an ugly one. The leader complied and named her Frostedgaze for her blindness, and Clovertail retreated to the elder’s den.
When Thornshadow was 23 moons, his niece and nephew were about to be named apprentices. Thornshadow was appointed Leafpaw’s mentor, and was pleased. Shadeflower, on the other paw, seemed to be noticed by some other toms in the Clan. Thornshadow’s competitive nature sparked, and he started to look for the perfect moment to catch her. In fact, she was starting to be drawn to Thornshadow’s old mentor, Whitelion, who was old enough to be her grandfather. Thornshadow just watched and waited. Whitelion approached Thornshadow and asked him if he would help solidify Shadeflower’s attentions. Thornshadow agreed to exactly what Whitelion requested: he would solidify Shadeflower’s attentions.
Thornshadow waited until he could get the three of them, plus the deputy, on a border patrol together. Thornshadow nodded to Whitelion slightly when they got to the border. An enemy patrol appeared and started talking with them. The deputy was leading the conversation, but Whitelion glanced at Thornshadow, questioning whether this was a setup. Thornshadow twitched his whiskers, holding his former mentor’s gaze, and Whitelion just took it from there. He started getting aggressive, puffing up, trying to be a big guy. The deputy, of course, was furious, but Whitelion wasn’t listening. Just before a fight was about to erupt, Thornshadow stepped forward and defused the situation. When they were back at camp alone, Whitelion snapped at Thornshadow for letting that happen. “I didn’t let anything happen,” Thornshadow rebutted. “I stopped it from happening, Whitelion.” Grudgingly, Whitelion replied, “You gave me a signal.” Thornshadow shook his head and responded that he hadn’t.
Soon after, Shadeflower confessed her attraction to Thornshadow, and that was that. When Thornshadow was 32 moons, Shadeflower gave birth to two she-cats, beautiful in Thornshadow’s opinion. There was nothing more beautiful to him that his pair of daughters. They named them Leopardkit and Streamkit, gold and silver as they were. And, after Leafpaw was made Leafchaser, around the time of this – promoted early because of a rather vital skirmish with WindClan, along with her brother – Thornshadow was without an apprentice. His first time as a mentor went along perfectly, swimmingly, so on and so forth, and he couldn’t be prouder of his niece and nephew.
When it came time for Thornshadow’s own daughters to be made apprentices, however, tragedy struck. Only a few days after Leopardkit and Streamkit became Leopardpaw and Streampaw, Shadeflower was killed by a fox while out on patrol. Thornshadow mourned and grieved, but felt guilty because he didn’t feel nearly as much as what the other cats were displaying. Did he truly love her? Had he ever? Or was she just some prize to be won? He couldn’t understand, and so he refused to try; he was who he was, and, while this death was saddening, it didn’t hurt as much as it could have. Thornshadow’s daughters, naturally, were very upset, and even Batnose and her kits grieved more than Thornshadow.
In the four moons since Shadeflower’s death, Thornshadow has easily moved on, though to what, even he doesn’t quite know. They haven’t been too eventful, though Thornshadow has high hopes for his future, and for making certain that events do unfold.
never let me go, never let me go
ROLE-PLAYER: Rabiddog
WRITING SAMPLE:
taken from Decoy Dreams
Ah, so he was found out. Well, then, that was fine by him. The winds had obviously changed from when he was tracking his foolish apprentice. Raising his head proudly, he stood tall and strode forward confidently until he was standing next to the small black she-cat apprentice of his. Starlingpaw was just out of official kithood and was already out and in trouble, ugh. Of course it was Stagshadow there to rescue her. If this was going to become a trend, though, the massive marbled cat was going to have none of it. As a young and impressionable cat, though, Stagshadow wanted to be sure that he was a presence in her life so that she would not walk down a horrible path, such as finding passion in another Clan or letting loyalties slip. There was a sliver of a feeling in his gut that the black apprentice was in the same situation as he regarding family in that Clan was far, far more important than any silly little family mistakes because they were unreliable.
Lifting a brow slightly, Stagshadow stared at the shadowed enemy she-cat, his green eyes flashing and reflected in the moonlight. “You think to threaten me. You think to threaten RiverClan. In this manner, you think not at all,” Stagshadow meowed calmly, his deep voice finding a perfect position in the crisp night. It was true, Stagshadow could be seen as arrogant, but his confidence was a great asset to him, he found, together with his stature and appearance. Scars did not impress him; rather, it was the opposite. If you had scars, then it was because you have failed as a fighter multiple times. Perfection was not achieved, and for other Clans, that was a sin that came as naturally as breathing. With a twitch of his ear, he added, “And you are alone, ShadowClanner. You all are not nearly as stealthy as you might think.”
During this time, the large tomcat paid no heed to his new apprentice, who was miniscule to and compared to him. Starlingpaw was darker than even he, with her black fur, and she blended well into the shadows. If he were in charge of any night attacks, and if she had any fighting experience, then the big tom would absolutely use her. Probably, he’d use himself, too, since his fur was also dark unless he stretched greatly. However, he would not send her into any fight in her current state. Honestly, he was considering postponing her training at this point and setting her to work with elders or Duskmist. Duskmist would probably be worse, since the old medicine cat was an ornery creature who gained quite a bit of pleasure from random insults and meanness. Starlingpaw deserved it at that moment in Stagshadow’s mind, although she might be able to redeem herself in his eyes, depending how she acted.
Then again, the massive cat needed to ask himself a question: would he put teaching Starlingpaw a lesson before teaching her useful skills to care for the Clan? Letting her get away with something so serious could lead her down the wrong path, but this encounter would not be nearly as dangerous if Starlingpaw knew something about caring for the Clan, even if it was just hunting. Of course, with knowledge, she’d probably grow arrogant and proud and feel that she could take on anything and go specifically looking for trouble, and that would bring pain and death upon the Clan. So, which was more valuable? He was still mulling over it, although he would probably end up deciding that teaching a lesson would be a better idea, since there were plenty of other warriors and apprentices. But he wouldn’t just do something regular, oh no, Stagshadow was a much harsher mentor than that. He would find Starlingpaw’s limits and push them, and that included social ones; there needed to be public retribution for this, and she would get it. All of this swept through the back of his mind in only a couple of silent seconds while his main focus was on the ShadowClan warrior. Once the fleeting ideas dissipated fully into the darkness of his un-thoughts, he returned his absolute attention to the other older cat.
Ah, so he was found out. Well, then, that was fine by him. The winds had obviously changed from when he was tracking his foolish apprentice. Raising his head proudly, he stood tall and strode forward confidently until he was standing next to the small black she-cat apprentice of his. Starlingpaw was just out of official kithood and was already out and in trouble, ugh. Of course it was Stagshadow there to rescue her. If this was going to become a trend, though, the massive marbled cat was going to have none of it. As a young and impressionable cat, though, Stagshadow wanted to be sure that he was a presence in her life so that she would not walk down a horrible path, such as finding passion in another Clan or letting loyalties slip. There was a sliver of a feeling in his gut that the black apprentice was in the same situation as he regarding family in that Clan was far, far more important than any silly little family mistakes because they were unreliable.
Lifting a brow slightly, Stagshadow stared at the shadowed enemy she-cat, his green eyes flashing and reflected in the moonlight. “You think to threaten me. You think to threaten RiverClan. In this manner, you think not at all,” Stagshadow meowed calmly, his deep voice finding a perfect position in the crisp night. It was true, Stagshadow could be seen as arrogant, but his confidence was a great asset to him, he found, together with his stature and appearance. Scars did not impress him; rather, it was the opposite. If you had scars, then it was because you have failed as a fighter multiple times. Perfection was not achieved, and for other Clans, that was a sin that came as naturally as breathing. With a twitch of his ear, he added, “And you are alone, ShadowClanner. You all are not nearly as stealthy as you might think.”
During this time, the large tomcat paid no heed to his new apprentice, who was miniscule to and compared to him. Starlingpaw was darker than even he, with her black fur, and she blended well into the shadows. If he were in charge of any night attacks, and if she had any fighting experience, then the big tom would absolutely use her. Probably, he’d use himself, too, since his fur was also dark unless he stretched greatly. However, he would not send her into any fight in her current state. Honestly, he was considering postponing her training at this point and setting her to work with elders or Duskmist. Duskmist would probably be worse, since the old medicine cat was an ornery creature who gained quite a bit of pleasure from random insults and meanness. Starlingpaw deserved it at that moment in Stagshadow’s mind, although she might be able to redeem herself in his eyes, depending how she acted.
Then again, the massive cat needed to ask himself a question: would he put teaching Starlingpaw a lesson before teaching her useful skills to care for the Clan? Letting her get away with something so serious could lead her down the wrong path, but this encounter would not be nearly as dangerous if Starlingpaw knew something about caring for the Clan, even if it was just hunting. Of course, with knowledge, she’d probably grow arrogant and proud and feel that she could take on anything and go specifically looking for trouble, and that would bring pain and death upon the Clan. So, which was more valuable? He was still mulling over it, although he would probably end up deciding that teaching a lesson would be a better idea, since there were plenty of other warriors and apprentices. But he wouldn’t just do something regular, oh no, Stagshadow was a much harsher mentor than that. He would find Starlingpaw’s limits and push them, and that included social ones; there needed to be public retribution for this, and she would get it. All of this swept through the back of his mind in only a couple of silent seconds while his main focus was on the ShadowClan warrior. Once the fleeting ideas dissipated fully into the darkness of his un-thoughts, he returned his absolute attention to the other older cat.
Lyrics: Never Let Me Go by Florence + the Machine
