Smolderstrike -- ShadowClan

SMOLDERSTRIKE
pictures: x x

Age: 18 MOONS
Gender: FEMALE
Rank: WARRIOR
Clan: SHADOWCLAN
Short Description: a small, petite gray, ginger, and white she-cat with yellow eyes.

Appearance:

Smolderstrike does not appear nearly as fierce as her name suggests, not in stature at least. This gal is about the size of an apprentice that is just hitting puberty. Graceful, yet rather short legs support her and a compact, petite body make up the rest of the cat. Her head is small, a triangular type of boxy shape with fur-tipped ears atop it. A tail, thick with fur, that she sweeps about like a feather when she walks makes up her hindquarters. All in all, Smolder seems delicate, fragile, like a cute little doll to be protected.

Looks aren't all that should be considered, especially not with Smolderstrike. One should firstly consider this cat's name before jumping to conclusions; would a sweet, delicate feline have the suffix of -strike? Absolutely not. Secondly, one gaze at her pelt, the melody of soft gray, blinding white, and blazing ginger should foreshadow some hint of her fiery nature. If this does not, then her air, perhaps? The way this cat holds herself is that of a deadly predator. With a glance at her movements, one can't help but notice not one twitch occurs without much calculation behind it. Smoulderstrike is a smooth, graceful, deadly creature and this much is obvious because of many elements of her appearance a rare few tend to forget because of her small stature.

Eyes are most often referred to as the window to the soul; they tell you what kind of feline the cat is. This is another thing that's all too true about Smolderstrike. Looking into her goldish yellow eyes, splashed with a bit of green around the pupil, it's obvious she is neither timid nor friendly in any form or fashion. There is a fire within her gaze, a scorching bite to it that tells you she welcomes no one to read her soul. Smoulderstrike is one of the few who can control her soul-windows, one of the selection of felines who drive others from their secretive hearts by pure, natural intimidation alone. It's obvious with one glare or simple annoyed glance that this cat isn't around to make friends, but to bathe in the blood of those who make an enemy of her and strike fear in the hearts of those who are not yet on her long list of said enemies. Many have said that looking into Smoulderstrike's eyes is like taking a glance into a fire pit of the Dark Forest, and perhaps it is some sort of subconcious preview of this gal's heart; perhaps.

Personality:

All her Clan life, Smolderstrike has lacked the tender emotions every cat should possess even a smidge of. She does not desire friends, acceptance, or love from any cat, and most definitely expects others to return the favor and not care for her either. Of course that's inevitable, especially in such a social group as a Clan. Nevertheless, she distances herself from ShadowClan, only showing a hint of respect to those that deserve it and avoiding any friendships or the like. You won't find Smolderstrike laughing or teasing anyone, but prowling about the camp for something to do. She won't cry if her leader or a good warrior dies, simply state that "it was their time, we need to get over it and return to our duties". Sadness, sympathy, love, desire, lust, she feels nothing like that. Anger, hate, and confidence are perhaps the only emotions she possesses at the moment, her mind filtering the others completely away from recognition. This is possibly because of her past.

Although Smolderstrike isn't quite the emotional type, she is very hard working. She fulfills her duties swiftly and with as much of perfection as possible. Training, hunting, border patrols, sparring, and keeping her body in shape is what takes up most of her time and concentration. While she isn't really the group type, using others stronger than herself to better her strength is a must if she wants to challenge herself. Smolderstrike pushes her body hard to accommodate her busy self-assigned schedule. ShadowClan isn't quite home to her, but another place to better herself. Once she tires and has no use of it any longer, Smolderstrike will disappear to find another lifestyle. This will possibly never happen though because of the loyalty she has grown to unconsciously have for her Clan.

Silence is a virtue for Smolderstrike. She does not enjoy speaking, and won't unless it's absolutely necessary. It is well known that she will ignore those she finds annoying or a waste of time and simply walk away if a conversation is started she isn't interested in. This is a common occurrence,and most of her Clanmates have learned to simply not approach her unless need be. Solitude is perfectly fine with Smolderstrike. She does not get lonely or bored, she's far too busy and untrusting for that. She does not want to be bothered, so she makes it known, and those who repetitively disrespect her wishes will get their ears clawed so that her point comes across clearly.

Smolderstrike has a large history of violence. Whether it be a Clanmate or some other cat out of ShadowClan, she will attack them if they do not leave her alone or enter her Clan's territory unwelcomed. Some think it odd that this she-cat doesn't strike others out of anger or annoyance, but for the simple fact of a lesson learned. Her aggression is to teach others to leave her to her own devices and she will leave them to theirs. Some think it a deep reason that should be dwelled on, and it very well may be, but she prefers to be alone, and unless you are some sort of magical being or gained her trust by one impossibe feat or another, that will not change.

Say Smolderstrike did come to trust someone. Say a cat did wriggle their way into her heart and found her more mortal emotions. If this were possible, and let's just say it is for the hell of it, then what would happen? Well. Smolderstrike isn't quite a mushy person. It takes an extreme amount of luck and impossible effort to break down her powerful walls she's so carefully set up. Let's say they were demolished completely. She would slowly but surely show her more vulnerable self to that extremely lucky person. This wouldn't be of her own choice, but completely subconsciously. Smolderstrike tries too hard to close off her heart to let herself consciously slip up. She would reveal her tender heart slowly, unaware that she was doing it, and unwilling to stop. Once she realized she was doing it though, fear would kick in and Smolderstrike would back away feverishly, like her life depended on it. The other party would need not small amount of courage and love for her to calm her, coax her to their side to bask in their love. She's never loved or been loved, so things would be slow, scary, and painful for a while until she gets used to the idea. So, maybe it's not impossible, not for those sly few.

History:

Smolderstrike was not lucky enough to be born in a loving Clan, dubbed Smolderkit at birth. No, the she-cat was a result of incest between two rogues. There was no heated love between her parents, no affection in the least. Her father, that is actually also her grandfather, was an overweight slob with only four teeth to his name. He had mated with her grandmother out of lust and nothing more, then cast her aside. Killing all the toms in the litter, he kept their only daughter so he could raise her to wait on him whenever he wanted. She was a pretty little thing, small in stature and sweet to a fault. She loved her father, Fin a lot and didn't blame him for anything; this was most likely because he'd raised her not to question his "mighty" judgement. The tom had named her Leaf, the first thing he'd seen after she was born. He waited patiently, preparing her for the day she too would be his mate, just like her mother.

When Leaf was twelve moons old, he acted. Leaf followed her father's instructions closely, despite how her skin crawled at his touch. She became pregnant with four kits soon after, all of them stillborn but one tiny grey calico. Fin forbade naming the little kit, telling Leaf she too would die like her siblings in due time. "It's just a matter o' time 'till that runt dies jus' like 'er littermates." he'd always grunt.

The tiny calico didn't die though, she grew minimally, but became stronger, faster, smarter than her family. Fin tried to isolate her from anything that could make her too clever, too nosy but there was no stopping the curious kitten. She figured out from her bitter grandmother, Petal what had happened, what she was the result of. At six moons it puzzled her, frightened her that a cat could be so cold and cruel. From then on she stuck close to her grandmother, learned closely from her how to lock away her feelings so that Fin couldn't get to her. Petal knew that Fin would prey on her grandchild next, that they had six moons to prepare.

The two of them snuck away secretly while Fin would nap to learn from neighboring rogues and loners. They met a select few of Petal's friends that she could trust, and the little calico trained hard. She was strong and fast, clever. At twelve moons, she'd been working every day for six moons straight, and Fin had found out, just like they'd planned. Petal "accidentally" told Leaf of their training, and of course the ever loyal she-cat told her father. Fin was furious and attacked Petal first, a shock to the duo. The calico had been sure he'd go for her first, but choked in shock as her grandmother fell, neck gushing blood.

Fin advanced on the little calico next, snarling fiercely, his rank breath swirling around her face and making her dizzy. That was when she finally unfroze from her shock and grief, letting out a cry of anguish and gouging her claws into Fin's eyes. She didn't pause for his screams and lashed at his throat next, claws unforgiving.

"I'll see you in hell, you sick bastard." she'd spat.

Leaf had watched the whole thing, growing angry for the first time in her life. Her own daughter had killed her master, her father, her lover. She barreled at her kit, snarling; tears raced down her face and her claws swiped futilely. The little cat was too fast for Leaf. She had no remorse anymore, no care for who she killed; Petal was dead and her own mother was trying to kill her. With a deft swipe to her neck, Leaf was dead and the calico disappeared. She ran and ran until exhausted. Passing out in an oddly scented forest, she let the darkness take her, hopefully dying.

Dead she was not. When she woke, a strange cat that smelled of herbs stared at her. She sat there, staring back, waiting for the other to speak. When they did, questions she did not know the answers to swirled in the air. All she could do was shrug and stand to leave the dark den. As she left though, a large tom blocked the entrance. He was silver tabby tom and called himself Fernstar. She thought his name odd but said nothing, simply staring at him blankly. When he asked her name, just like the herbal-scented cat behind her, she shrugged yet again and finally replied only after he demanded she tell the truth.

"I have no name."

She didn't know if it was out of pity or intrigue, but Fernstar offered her a name, a den, a home. Thinking it an interesting offer to think over, she agreed with a simple nod and was named Smolderpaw until she learned the Clan's ways.

Fernstar was a fair cat. If Smolderpaw hadn't lost all emotion but the negative, she'd of thought him amusing, handsome. She did respect him however, and found herself feeling a tug, a liking for him. He himself trained her, coaxed her into Clanlife. The tom slowly but surely gained her trust. Fernstar had given her a name, a meaning, a home. He soon knew everything about her and they became extremely close to one another. In fact, the Clan was suspicious as to why they hadn't proclaimed their mateship yet. He was the only one she spoke to willingly, the only one who made her smirk. They were so close to being together, to Smolderpaw being happy.

Fernstar died just a moon after Smolderpaw became Smolderstrike at seventeen moons of age. He was sick for a long while and simply wasn't strong enough to survive the cold in such a harsh winter. Smolderstrike did not welcome the arrogant Stormburst to take her love's position, she was bitter for a while. Then, she simply retreated within herself, never to return. Smolderstrike became cold, a cold flame refusing to become close and hurt again. She refuses to think she loved Fernstar and that he loved her. She's alone and that's suits her just fine, Fernstar meant nothing to her; nothing.