Post by swiftstreak on Sept 4, 2010 20:40:02 GMT -5
Name :. Firestripe
Gender :. Male
Age :. 39 moons
Clan :. WindClan
Rank :. Warrior
Love Interest :. None, Open.
Mother :.
Nettlestorm .:. NPC
Father :.
Emberclaw .:. Deceased
Other :.
(Unidentified half siblings and cousins in ThunderClan)
Description :.
Firestripe is obviously of cross-clan heritage, with his muscled frame and ginger coat. He inherits these foreign traits from his father, who had been a bulky ThunderClan tom. He adopted not only his stocky muscles from his father, he carried on his father's bright orange fur. If you had set the two side by side, you probably would've been able to tell they were father and son. Though he never got to chance to meet his father, he knew of his identity.
Besides the many traits Firestripe inherited from his father, he did get a few from his mother. Nettlestorm, a prickly and quick-witted she-cat, was striped all along her pelt and posessed a lovely set of intense green eyes. These are the two most noticeable features the mother and son share, excluding other small details, such as wispy, sparse whiskers and long, thick tails. He certainly isn’t unappealing to look at, nor is he glorious in any sense. His coat is attractive, rich orange in color, like a hot flame. And his eyes like emeralds, burning with every emotion.
Firestripe’s body is built for accuracy and power in battle rather than speed, like most of his lanky Clanmates. He has a hefty paw and broad shoulders, making him a notorious beast on the battle field. Ah yes, Firestripe is one to jump to conclusions about inter-clan controversy. Subconsciously, he’s trying to start a fight. Though he’d feel awful if a cat in his clan was injured or worse, he’d still enjoy the thrill of sinking his claws into foreign cat.
Personality :.
Confident, bold, ladies man, authoritative, loyal, passionate, aggressive, perverted.
Firestripe, is generally an honest, happy WindClan warrior. Always talking confidently with his Clanmates, holding his tail high. He tends to strike up conversation more with the she-cats of WindClan, being the flirtatious devil he is. He can always find time in the day to chat with a couple friends, one of his favorite things being going out on a long border patrol, conversing with a few fellow warriors, and maybe even getting a little action with ThunderClan or RiverClan cats. Firestripe does enjoy an occasional tiff, he craves flexing his muscles and the feeling off his claws rake through fur and flesh. But he usually makes due with sinking his teeth into prey.
Usually.
Firestripe does have a violent side, oh yes. When Firestripe is annoyed, most know to duck for cover. He is certainly not afraid to give anyone an earful, except maybe Fernstar. She is the one cat he truly respects, she's been leader for as long as he can remember, and had always been a symbol of absolute power and authority to him. He does respect authority, maybe because his mother so avidly put the fear of StarClan into him, one thing Firestripe does believe in firmly is the existence of StarClan. He's got every word of the Warrior Code scratched into the fabric of his mind. All in all, Firestripe is a loyal, kind, firm, and quite handsome WindClan tom. He hasn't got any trouble amongst his Clanmates.
History :.
Firestripe was the only kit born into an estranged, and dysfunctional family. His father Emberclaw, was a ThunderClan cat. While his mother, Nettlestorm, was a WindClan warrior. The two had been meeting along Moonpool Stream for over a moon when Nettlestorm informed him that she was heavy with his kits. Emberclaw was at first excited about becoming a father, but as Nettlestorm neared the end of her pregnancy he grew faint of heart, and never visited his forbidden lover again. Nettleclaw was hurt, furious, depressed all at once. She became bitter and untrusting, forcing the young Firekit to become self-driven and independant as soon as he was able to go get prey from the pile himself. Though Nettlestorm didn't see any point in fostering Firekit's imagination in any way, shape, or form, she did however, think it was necessary that he know the Warrior Code by heart. Every day she kept him from playing with the other kits to drill him, force the ways of a noble WindClan cat into his head, Firekit had no choice in the matter.
Even though Firekit didn't have much of a kit-hood, he made it the best he could. He was blessed with a good attitude, and never adopted his mother's angry attitude towards other cats. He took every chance to play with the other kits, or marvel at the apprentices and warriors leaving the camp to provide for the clan. He would watch them leave and watch them come back with mice in their jaws, he would say every night before he fell asleep at his mother's side, "I'm gonna be the best warrior ever".
On his sixth moon, Firekit was renamed Firepaw. He was assigned to a wise old warrior by the name of Bramblenose. He was nearing his last moons as a warrior, but refused to be put into the Elder Den. The firm old tom continued Firepaw's early training in the ways of the clan. He cemented the early ideas his mother had given him and used the young tom's obvious ThunderClan build to his advantage. Bramblenose trained him for battle more than hunting, making him a fierce and feared opponent even amongst other Apprentices. Firepaw loved to have play matches, though sometimes he got to carried away and unsheathed his claws, resulting in quite a few lectures during his apprenticeship.
Firepaw was the model apprentice. Quick-witted, social, eager to learn. His mentor was amazing, teaching him the ins and outs of battle and how to hunt despite his heavy feet, though he never reached anything better than mediocrity with hunting. Everything was going swimmingly until his tenth moon, when he and Bramblenose went out hunting around sunset. A fox smelled their catch, and in the fight for the prey and for their lives, Bramblenose received a long slash down his stomach. Firepaw blocked most of the memory out, all he can clearly recall now was trying to drag his mentor back to camp while blood gushed from the fatal wound. Bramblenose was dead before sunrise. It crushed Firepaw, he had seen his mentor as more a father than just a teacher. He didn't want any other cat to try and teach him, he knew everything he needed to. And trying to replace Bramblenose seemed like an awful thing to do, no one cat could fill his paw steps. Alas, four moons of training was simply not enough, and he was assigned to a pretty young she-cat called Hazelpelt. She was only 20 moons old, and Firepaw had trouble paying attention to her and following her instructions, though she didn't do an awful job. No, she did as best she could, given her first apprentice was almost done with training and didn't have the best attitude.
The rest of Firepaw's apprenticeship passed without anything especially exciting, other than the fact that he caught two rabbits on his hunting evaluation, a record for him. He from then on named Firestripe, Fire for his shockingly orange coat, and stripe for the long, duller streaking along his pelt. He was so proud of himself, awaking well before dawn to prepare for dawn patrol, he loved watching the sunset rise above the sloping hills of WindClan territory. He was given his first apprentice only six moons after he graduated from his time as an apprentice, her name was Willowpaw. She was hard to teach, very, very hard to teach. She had a strong urge to remain independant from any of her superiors, she resisted his rules and lessons on the Warrior Code. Though after a couple firm conversations with Firestripe, she was ready, or at least willing, to learn.
The dainty she cat posessed the physique of a true WindClan cat, built for speed and stealth. She was announced a warrior one moon before the battle between ThunderClan and WindClan. In the fight, the newly named Willowheart was struck down by a large opponent, the small she-cat had never been to great at battle, though she was needed, as were all the other warriors of WindClan. Firestripe blamed himself for not training her hard enough. He was depressed for weeks, blaming himself and cursing the ThunderClan cat with all his might.
Firestripe was so distraught, he felt like he should have been the one to lose his life rather than her. He was so torn up over the young she-cat's death.. Because she was not only his apprentice. The two had been together, their forbidden love was kept top secret from the other cats of WindClan. Firestripe had lost his lover, he had lost the only other cat that mattered to him. Firestripe took his time recovering, spending days on end in the warrior's den, eating and drinking only the bare minimum. He did his duties like a zombie, unspeaking, unthinking, unfeeling. It took more than a moon for him to begin recovering from the dark depression that had passed over him after his lover's death. And after about 5 or 6 more, he began feeling that old bounce in his step, began talking to his Clanmates again... Firestripe even resumed his flirtatious antics. Slowly but surely he was regaining the once happy and confident air about him he had once had.
Ever since then, Firestripe has been on the mend, never quite the same, yet he has still got that attitude about him. An attitude only to be described as, 'Firestripe'.
Other :.
None at the moment..
Role play Example :.
The sun was just beginning to rise over the sloping hills of WindClan territory when Firestripe arose from his temporary nest in the medicine den. He stood quietly, pushing his paws forward, raising the fur at the base of tail as he stretched. He was always stiff, just a little. But this particular morning the bulky warrior felt particularly sore. On yesterday's hunting patrol, Firestripe had been sprinting after a particularly fat rabbit, and didn't notice the sudden ledge before them. The rabbit leaped skillfully over the small cliff, unlike the hurdling Firestripe, he tumbled right off it. Letting out a startled cry, he had dropped through the air, landing on the still steep hillside below at a very bad angle.
While most of the warriors on the patrol laughed as the great big red ball tumbled over the hill and out of sight, one did not. The sleek brown she-cat had chased after him, and eventually she found him laying in a disgruntled heap in a thick patch of stinging nettles. --- (cont.)