Owlstar [Thunderclan]
Feb 4, 2009 23:10:48 GMT -6
Post by wish. on Feb 4, 2009 23:10:48 GMT -6
OWLSTAR
tom ● thirty-two moons ● thunderclan ● Leader
Massive tabby tom with golden eyes
A P P E A R A N C E X
Owlstar isn't a small cat. Thunderclan prides itself on broad shoulders, thick legs, and barreled chests. Owlstar was born into Thunderclan's waiting arms, and they smiled the entire time; admiring his already massive size. From a young age he towered over his playmates and if things had been differently, the tabby could have easily used his brute force as a lethal weapon. Fortunately for his clanmates Owlstar was never the quarreling type. Instead he used his size to help others and often ended a conversation with a flashing smile.
The tom was a handsome cat. He had long, silky brown and black fur, and a built frame to rest it on. Owlstar stands at average, a whole head above his denmates. Most often a clanmate will have to cant their head if they want to speak to him. His body is very broad and put together very well. His chest is wide, deep. His legs aren't particularly long for his body; rather he's stocky than lean. But due to his massive size he still manages to tower over the average cat. The tom's body isn't very long nor is it stout - from the tip of nose to the tip of his tail he lands at average when it comes to body length. His tail is long and feathery, but it's not necessarily something to marvel at.
He has massive paws and razor-sharp claws to match. The tabby's fur can overall be described as a 'dusty tanish-brown'. Long black stripes spiral down his body in a 'marble' pattern. The tips of his toes, chest, and muzzle are tinged a creamy white. While his spine and ears are capped in black. His face is large and angular; creating a very dignified appearance. He has a chiseled chin, and large triangular ears. Owlstar's crown dons the classic tabby 'm' perched right between his glistening, golden eyes. His nose is an earthy peach, and lastly his long white whiskers trail naturally from his maw and blend effortlessly against his fur.
Owlstar isn't a small cat. Thunderclan prides itself on broad shoulders, thick legs, and barreled chests. Owlstar was born into Thunderclan's waiting arms, and they smiled the entire time; admiring his already massive size. From a young age he towered over his playmates and if things had been differently, the tabby could have easily used his brute force as a lethal weapon. Fortunately for his clanmates Owlstar was never the quarreling type. Instead he used his size to help others and often ended a conversation with a flashing smile.
The tom was a handsome cat. He had long, silky brown and black fur, and a built frame to rest it on. Owlstar stands at average, a whole head above his denmates. Most often a clanmate will have to cant their head if they want to speak to him. His body is very broad and put together very well. His chest is wide, deep. His legs aren't particularly long for his body; rather he's stocky than lean. But due to his massive size he still manages to tower over the average cat. The tom's body isn't very long nor is it stout - from the tip of nose to the tip of his tail he lands at average when it comes to body length. His tail is long and feathery, but it's not necessarily something to marvel at.
He has massive paws and razor-sharp claws to match. The tabby's fur can overall be described as a 'dusty tanish-brown'. Long black stripes spiral down his body in a 'marble' pattern. The tips of his toes, chest, and muzzle are tinged a creamy white. While his spine and ears are capped in black. His face is large and angular; creating a very dignified appearance. He has a chiseled chin, and large triangular ears. Owlstar's crown dons the classic tabby 'm' perched right between his glistening, golden eyes. His nose is an earthy peach, and lastly his long white whiskers trail naturally from his maw and blend effortlessly against his fur.
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Owlstar is determined. He's determined to lead his clan righteously. As a kit he used to stare longingly at the Highrock; he pictured himself perched upon it, the sun on his back, and his clan at his paws. Now that it's become reality he lives each day in minor disbelief. The rock feels foreign beneath his claws, and he can feel their eyes scorching his pelt. Do I really deserve this?
A long time ago, or so it seems, he used to be a warrior. As a warrior Owltalon was laid back. He didn't particularly anger easily, and you couldn't find him excited over anything. He was comfortable with his surroundings and his clanmates. He had love for his mate and love for his clan. He was happy.
The tom was always determined, challenging himself to do his best. As an apprentice he had his few shares of goofing off, but he always came back the next day giving it a hundred percent. He wasn't keen on gossip and usually never broke the code. Owlpaw hung out with his few friends and kept the fun to a minimum. He wanted to become a warrior, he wanted to become leader so bad it hurt.
When he finally received his warrior name he was ecstatic. He spent his vigil with his chin held high and Riverfrost's proud gaze on his spine. He wasn't going to mess this up. He was going to lead this clan. When he became deputy he welcomed his duties with a grin. The challenge excited him. But work became his life, and his life took the backseat. Owltalon became the deputy. Nothing else.
His friends, and even his mate began to fade into the past. They became background noise. His life was consumed with solving problems and coming up with solutions. It was giving orders and organizing patrols. Owltalon only saw Thunderclan, but not the cats within.
Now as leader he's gruff, quiet, and stern. He spends his free-time thinking of how he could better his clan. He doesn't have time for trivial things. He doesn't have time for anything. His job is consuming him. Sometimes there's a light in his eyes, but lately there's nothing; just a dull, lifeless corpse of a once great cat.
Owlstar is determined. He's determined to lead his clan righteously. As a kit he used to stare longingly at the Highrock; he pictured himself perched upon it, the sun on his back, and his clan at his paws. Now that it's become reality he lives each day in minor disbelief. The rock feels foreign beneath his claws, and he can feel their eyes scorching his pelt. Do I really deserve this?
A long time ago, or so it seems, he used to be a warrior. As a warrior Owltalon was laid back. He didn't particularly anger easily, and you couldn't find him excited over anything. He was comfortable with his surroundings and his clanmates. He had love for his mate and love for his clan. He was happy.
The tom was always determined, challenging himself to do his best. As an apprentice he had his few shares of goofing off, but he always came back the next day giving it a hundred percent. He wasn't keen on gossip and usually never broke the code. Owlpaw hung out with his few friends and kept the fun to a minimum. He wanted to become a warrior, he wanted to become leader so bad it hurt.
When he finally received his warrior name he was ecstatic. He spent his vigil with his chin held high and Riverfrost's proud gaze on his spine. He wasn't going to mess this up. He was going to lead this clan. When he became deputy he welcomed his duties with a grin. The challenge excited him. But work became his life, and his life took the backseat. Owltalon became the deputy. Nothing else.
His friends, and even his mate began to fade into the past. They became background noise. His life was consumed with solving problems and coming up with solutions. It was giving orders and organizing patrols. Owltalon only saw Thunderclan, but not the cats within.
Now as leader he's gruff, quiet, and stern. He spends his free-time thinking of how he could better his clan. He doesn't have time for trivial things. He doesn't have time for anything. His job is consuming him. Sometimes there's a light in his eyes, but lately there's nothing; just a dull, lifeless corpse of a once great cat.
H I S T O R Y
"You know he looks like an owl."
Dawnfoot fixed her friend a heavy stare, "My son does not look like an owl." But when she looked down it was all she could see. Dawnfoot was an aging queen. She spent the first part of her life fighting for the clan she loved and the second part birthing kits. She wasn't in love with a tom; she was just in love with her clan. Owlkit was her fourth and final litter. He was born in the beginning of new-leaf, just as any traditionally planned litter, and unlike most he was the only one alive. In total four kits were born; Owlkit was the only one to open his mouth, the rest were born small, wet, and lifeless.
"It's such a pity..." The medicine cat murmured, her round, young eyes drifted over the dead kits. Dawnfoot blinked, "I'm getting older..." The words trailed off. Sadness tinged her very soul. She hadn't known her children very well, but there was this attachment; something she couldn't explain; it hurt, great starclan it hurt. The queen pressed her nose softly into each pelt and then resting his tongue against Owlkit's rising body. She could feel the heat press against her heart. She was smitten.
Owlkit grew up under the watchful eye of his mother. She may have been old, but she definitely could keep up with his teetering paws. He knew he had older siblings but he never cared to ask. His mother told him that some were great warriors and others were deceased. But at such a young age Owlkit merely mewled in response before racing off to scamper around with his denmates. It wasn't until after his mother's death did he begin to question his lineage.
At five moons Owlkit grew impatient. He was old enough to understand the ways of the clan, but young enough not to be a part of it. He hated the apprentices, even the ones who were once his friends. He was envious. He wanted to serve his clan so much it hurt.
"Can't I start early?" The kit pleaded, his brown eyes large and dewy. Dawnfoot narrowed her gaze, "And why would I let you do that?" She mused. Owlkit pursed his lips, "Because I'd be the best apprentice in the clan! Duh!" The queen rolled her eyes, "I'm sure all of the other warriors would turn tail and run the other way at the sight of you-" She affectionately bumped his shoulder, "But before that can happen you have to get big and strong." The tabby tom glanced at his paws, tears brimming, "But I already am big and strong..." Dawnfoot smiled, "Give it one more moon. You'll be even bigger, I promise."
Dawnfoot was right.
At six moons Owlkit towered over his denmates, and even some of the warriors. Due to his massive size and yearning heart, Owlkit was given the privilege to start a week early. With the sun blazing in the sky, Owlkit became Owlpaw, and as destiny would have it; Riverfrost, the clan's deputy was assigned his mentor.
Owlpaw was determined to prove Riverfrost wrong. He wanted to show her that he wasn't just another whack-job apprentice; he was serious. He wanted to become a warrior the clan could be proud of, he wanted to become leader. Every training session he left heart-pounding, panting for breath, he was tired but he craved exhaustion. The deputy was impressed, everything was going good, great even. Everything was going great but then he met her. He met Rainflight.
She was a small, black bundle of fur with the deepest blue eyes he's ever seen on a cat. A birth malfunction she called it. Instead of yellowing, they remained blue, and they haunted him in his sleep. She started out as a pest. A little pesky kit who couldn't find anyone else to bother. Whenever Owlpaw was in camp it was almost certain that Rainkit would be trailing behind him. At first he tried to ignore her. He couldn't have some baby mess up his plan. His life had been prepared from birth. He would train hard as an apprentice, become a loyal and driven warrior, promoted to deputy by twenty moons, and then eventually leader. His plan said nothing about falling in love.
Perhaps it was her persistence that finally made him notice her. As the moons went by she began to grow into her gangly body. She was different, striking to look at, and by the time she became an apprentice Owlpaw couldn't keep his mind off of her. He found himself weak in the knees whenever she'd give him a glance, a smile, anything.
He was enamored with this little black she-cat; consumed by her.
At twelve moons old Owlpaw became a warrior. The decision was made after a heroic feet of quick thinking and perseverance. The day began with an itch. It started at the tip of his tail and crawled to the base of his neck. Something wasn't right. He padded out of the apprentice's den, eyes narrowed and maws parted. He drew in the air; nothing. But the itch continued. The sun rose into the sky, blistering. And then it hit him, Rainkit.
He was so used to her presence, so used to her constant glances and shuffled words; it hadn't occurred to him that her absence made his skin crawl. Where was she? After checking with the nursery he found that not only was Rainkit missing, but her sister, Seakit, was gone as well. Nothing. Owlpaw said nothing. He flew through the ravine and into the forest with his eyes narrowed. He was going to find them. Fortunately, Riverfrost and Swiftstar weren't too far behind. Intrigued by her apprentice's actions the deputy followed in a hot pursuit.
Rainkit's trail brought Owlpaw to an eerie clearing. It was silent. The tom glanced around. He opened his mouth, drawing in the senses - suddenly a high pitched squeal curled his blood. And there they were, tumbling through the undergrowth, a dog fox snapping at their heels. Without thinking Owlpaw leaped at the fox. He landed squarely on the beast's shoulders and hung on with all of his might. Released from the shadows Riverfrost and Swiftstar leaped into action. Threatened and mismatched the fox left in defeat; leaving two frightened kits and three panting warriors.
Out of breath Swiftstar turned to the apprentice, his eyes narrowed, knowing, [n]"You'll make a fine leader some day."[/n]
That night Owlpaw sat his vigil with shining eyes.
They named him Owltalon.
The tom assumed it was for large claws and skill in battle. Rainpaw joked that it was the only thing that didn't sound stupid. "It's Owl. What else could they done? Owlclaw? Owl's don't have claws." Owltalon rolled his eyes, "Oh and what are they gonna call you? Rainfur? Rain doesn't have fur."
They were in love.
When Rainpaw became a warrior they named her Rainflight. He thought it was fitting. From the second he knew her she had stolen his heart and took flight. Rainflight was his everything and for the first time in his life he didn't care if he had a plan. He was happy.
When Swiftstar died, Owltalon felt the tom's words heavy on his neck. The clan was surprised hearing his name called as Thunderclan's new deputy. He was young, loyal and strong, but young. Owltalon could feel their eyes scorching his pelt as he padded up to his former mentor, "They don't respect me." He murmured quietly. Riverstar fixed her friend an amused glare, "Well - prove them wrong."
And he did.
Owltalon devoted himself entirely to his clan. He spent nights rehearsing his lines. He knew just what to say and when to say it. They were going to respect him, he had to make sure of it. At first Rainflight was supportive. She was proud to be the deputy's mate. But as moons went by she began to fade. Her words stopped caring and her glances grew infrequent. After trying so hard for so long, sometimes you give up.
"I'm just terrified that you'll forget me entirely." She mewed fervently, her eyes large and wet. Owltalon glared furiously at his paws, "What? Do you want me to resign? You know how much I wanted this." Rainflight drew in a shaky breath; silence filled them. The tom furrowed his brow, thoughts berated his head, at this moment he truly resented her. Finally she spoke, "I thought you would want me more."
In the midst of leaf-bare Thunderclan lost their leader.
In the midst of leaf-bare love died.
"You know he looks like an owl."
Dawnfoot fixed her friend a heavy stare, "My son does not look like an owl." But when she looked down it was all she could see. Dawnfoot was an aging queen. She spent the first part of her life fighting for the clan she loved and the second part birthing kits. She wasn't in love with a tom; she was just in love with her clan. Owlkit was her fourth and final litter. He was born in the beginning of new-leaf, just as any traditionally planned litter, and unlike most he was the only one alive. In total four kits were born; Owlkit was the only one to open his mouth, the rest were born small, wet, and lifeless.
"It's such a pity..." The medicine cat murmured, her round, young eyes drifted over the dead kits. Dawnfoot blinked, "I'm getting older..." The words trailed off. Sadness tinged her very soul. She hadn't known her children very well, but there was this attachment; something she couldn't explain; it hurt, great starclan it hurt. The queen pressed her nose softly into each pelt and then resting his tongue against Owlkit's rising body. She could feel the heat press against her heart. She was smitten.
Owlkit grew up under the watchful eye of his mother. She may have been old, but she definitely could keep up with his teetering paws. He knew he had older siblings but he never cared to ask. His mother told him that some were great warriors and others were deceased. But at such a young age Owlkit merely mewled in response before racing off to scamper around with his denmates. It wasn't until after his mother's death did he begin to question his lineage.
At five moons Owlkit grew impatient. He was old enough to understand the ways of the clan, but young enough not to be a part of it. He hated the apprentices, even the ones who were once his friends. He was envious. He wanted to serve his clan so much it hurt.
"Can't I start early?" The kit pleaded, his brown eyes large and dewy. Dawnfoot narrowed her gaze, "And why would I let you do that?" She mused. Owlkit pursed his lips, "Because I'd be the best apprentice in the clan! Duh!" The queen rolled her eyes, "I'm sure all of the other warriors would turn tail and run the other way at the sight of you-" She affectionately bumped his shoulder, "But before that can happen you have to get big and strong." The tabby tom glanced at his paws, tears brimming, "But I already am big and strong..." Dawnfoot smiled, "Give it one more moon. You'll be even bigger, I promise."
Dawnfoot was right.
At six moons Owlkit towered over his denmates, and even some of the warriors. Due to his massive size and yearning heart, Owlkit was given the privilege to start a week early. With the sun blazing in the sky, Owlkit became Owlpaw, and as destiny would have it; Riverfrost, the clan's deputy was assigned his mentor.
Owlpaw was determined to prove Riverfrost wrong. He wanted to show her that he wasn't just another whack-job apprentice; he was serious. He wanted to become a warrior the clan could be proud of, he wanted to become leader. Every training session he left heart-pounding, panting for breath, he was tired but he craved exhaustion. The deputy was impressed, everything was going good, great even. Everything was going great but then he met her. He met Rainflight.
She was a small, black bundle of fur with the deepest blue eyes he's ever seen on a cat. A birth malfunction she called it. Instead of yellowing, they remained blue, and they haunted him in his sleep. She started out as a pest. A little pesky kit who couldn't find anyone else to bother. Whenever Owlpaw was in camp it was almost certain that Rainkit would be trailing behind him. At first he tried to ignore her. He couldn't have some baby mess up his plan. His life had been prepared from birth. He would train hard as an apprentice, become a loyal and driven warrior, promoted to deputy by twenty moons, and then eventually leader. His plan said nothing about falling in love.
Perhaps it was her persistence that finally made him notice her. As the moons went by she began to grow into her gangly body. She was different, striking to look at, and by the time she became an apprentice Owlpaw couldn't keep his mind off of her. He found himself weak in the knees whenever she'd give him a glance, a smile, anything.
He was enamored with this little black she-cat; consumed by her.
At twelve moons old Owlpaw became a warrior. The decision was made after a heroic feet of quick thinking and perseverance. The day began with an itch. It started at the tip of his tail and crawled to the base of his neck. Something wasn't right. He padded out of the apprentice's den, eyes narrowed and maws parted. He drew in the air; nothing. But the itch continued. The sun rose into the sky, blistering. And then it hit him, Rainkit.
He was so used to her presence, so used to her constant glances and shuffled words; it hadn't occurred to him that her absence made his skin crawl. Where was she? After checking with the nursery he found that not only was Rainkit missing, but her sister, Seakit, was gone as well. Nothing. Owlpaw said nothing. He flew through the ravine and into the forest with his eyes narrowed. He was going to find them. Fortunately, Riverfrost and Swiftstar weren't too far behind. Intrigued by her apprentice's actions the deputy followed in a hot pursuit.
Rainkit's trail brought Owlpaw to an eerie clearing. It was silent. The tom glanced around. He opened his mouth, drawing in the senses - suddenly a high pitched squeal curled his blood. And there they were, tumbling through the undergrowth, a dog fox snapping at their heels. Without thinking Owlpaw leaped at the fox. He landed squarely on the beast's shoulders and hung on with all of his might. Released from the shadows Riverfrost and Swiftstar leaped into action. Threatened and mismatched the fox left in defeat; leaving two frightened kits and three panting warriors.
Out of breath Swiftstar turned to the apprentice, his eyes narrowed, knowing, [n]"You'll make a fine leader some day."[/n]
That night Owlpaw sat his vigil with shining eyes.
They named him Owltalon.
The tom assumed it was for large claws and skill in battle. Rainpaw joked that it was the only thing that didn't sound stupid. "It's Owl. What else could they done? Owlclaw? Owl's don't have claws." Owltalon rolled his eyes, "Oh and what are they gonna call you? Rainfur? Rain doesn't have fur."
They were in love.
When Rainpaw became a warrior they named her Rainflight. He thought it was fitting. From the second he knew her she had stolen his heart and took flight. Rainflight was his everything and for the first time in his life he didn't care if he had a plan. He was happy.
When Swiftstar died, Owltalon felt the tom's words heavy on his neck. The clan was surprised hearing his name called as Thunderclan's new deputy. He was young, loyal and strong, but young. Owltalon could feel their eyes scorching his pelt as he padded up to his former mentor, "They don't respect me." He murmured quietly. Riverstar fixed her friend an amused glare, "Well - prove them wrong."
And he did.
Owltalon devoted himself entirely to his clan. He spent nights rehearsing his lines. He knew just what to say and when to say it. They were going to respect him, he had to make sure of it. At first Rainflight was supportive. She was proud to be the deputy's mate. But as moons went by she began to fade. Her words stopped caring and her glances grew infrequent. After trying so hard for so long, sometimes you give up.
"I'm just terrified that you'll forget me entirely." She mewed fervently, her eyes large and wet. Owltalon glared furiously at his paws, "What? Do you want me to resign? You know how much I wanted this." Rainflight drew in a shaky breath; silence filled them. The tom furrowed his brow, thoughts berated his head, at this moment he truly resented her. Finally she spoke, "I thought you would want me more."
In the midst of leaf-bare Thunderclan lost their leader.
In the midst of leaf-bare love died.
