Sleet-Thorn

             Name:Sleet-thorn
             Pictures: x
             Age:25 moons
             Gender: Male
             Rank:Warrior
             Clan:Shadowclan
             Short Description: Sleet-thorn is a snow white, short haired, tom with brown eyes and a tall, muscular build.

Appearance:What image does sleet put in the head of those who don't rely on their eyes as the only cameras to capture reality? That image is Sleet-thorn. Sleet-thorn is the falling snow, both the fresh powder, drifting lazily to earth, and the hard packed ice that lines the asphalt, riddled with mud and twigs. He is the frost, creeping up on the windowsill to be warmed by the fire, and the trees laden with icicles. He is the chill in the air, that both cools the blood and refreshes a man's vigor.
Sleet-thorn grew up as the runt of the litter. He was always the one getting knocked away from his mother's teat, and was always left to the chill of the air. As fate would have it though, he became the biggest of the bunch by the time he was an apprentice, and his siblings became taller and leaner. Sleet-thorn is indeed tall, about 1 foot and inch, but he is big and husky. Although he looks like the kittypets that his clan loves to slander, the fat looking stuff is really a garment weaved of muscles, and they ripple under his fur like the waves of an ocean. When he walks, he steps heavy and slow, and when it's either the quick or the dead, he sprints at long strides. A fast cat he is indeed, but his agility is left wanting. His heavy gait and lumbering figure inspires awe into the kits, strikes fear into the apprentices, and commands the respect of those who hunt with him. This appearance betrays his personality more than what the universe should be allowing, but he finds it has certain advantages.
Sleet-thorn is the winter, or at least you would think so by looking at him. His fur coat is short, providing relief from the occasional harsh summer, but when the winter comes to him, his coat grows out only a little more, making him rely on endurance rather than a natural overcoat. (Hes not very good at it) His coat is white. The starkest whitest white you could imagine, almost as if someone had collected the radiance of the sun in a pail and colored his fur with distilled sunlight. Amongst the marshland, it makes him very visible and it often does him a disservice when hunting. The audacious nature of his fur color also makes him a prime target should he find himself in a fight. The short hairs do work for him, however, in not collecting twigs and sticks and other such things, making only a quick bathing session necessary to keep his fur nice and clean. His eyes are the same color of as the marshland around him, an earthy greenish brown. Nearly hazel, but not quite. His eyes are a little far apart and they run small, so even when he isn't looking into the distance, Sleet-thorn always has the look of a light squint on his face. His ears are wide triangles, and his tail is short at about a half foot

Personality:
"Keep your head level."
Sleet-thorn is just like the temperature of the air before a snowfall. He's the wise old sage that whispers philosophy into your perked ears, and the jolly old giant uttering a thunderous laugh with a fat mouse I his jaws. He's the grizzled veteran and experienced lover. He's calm. Collected. Stable. And above all....

Sleet-thorn Is cool.


I don't mean cool in the sense that he's the most popular cat in the world, having everyone's babies and throwing currency into air when he walks in, but cool as in the one sitting silently and thinking at a heated political debate. That is his mantra, and motto, "Keep a cool head." He is rarely ever seen raising his voice in exasperation, and never loses himself in conflict. Each step he takes is, though heavy, deliberate and each word he speaks is planned and carries meaning. He is also quite soft spoken, on purpose. He can get rowdy and loud in the interest of sport. Sleet-thorn is very mannered, but has a great deal of respect for social nuance and his behavior reflects the situation. "Thee's" and "Thous" have just as high a place as "Ain't" and "In'nit"

Sleet-thorn was bored as a kit. The other kits would always be playing games that were fun every few times, but they quickly lost their charm. Aside from eating and sleeping, there was nothing for him to do. But every cat has a built in boredom annihilator. He turned to knowledge in order to slate his thirst for excitement. Cultivating an extreme curiosity, he started looking and thinking. He began to understand the concepts of clans and the roles of cats in them. He asked lots of questions about history. As he grew, he nurtured philosophy in his mind, and held debates. The most notable of his ability is his grasp of logic and common sense. When meeting with other clan cats or being the mediator in an argument, his strong arguments and careful words can find a way out of most of his conflicts. Sleet-thorn is not afraid to get his hands dirty for the welfare of his clan, and completely and utterly willing to use what assets he has to manipulate a situation, or use his silver tongue to convince a cat to do something. When it comes down to it, he can be intimidating, and it could seem like a demon from hell is staring back at you from those brown eyes, and his cool breath freezing your blood. He knows this, and coupled with his ability to think logically, he can broker a deal that needs to be made, and most often gets exactly what he wants. It is only when it's bone to bone that he does this, and not every cat is fazed by his presence. His, is usually a very warm, nice, and peaceable persona.

History: Treefeather gave birth to a litter of four. Sleetkit never knew these cats, because two were lost to disease, and one just couldn't handle the hot summer sun she happened to born under. Treefeather gladly mothered some of the other motherless kits, since she had the milk. Sleetkit was the smallest of the bunch. He was always being pushed around. Eventually, they reached an age where they could leave the den and explore. Sleetkit quickly made up for the physical development with his mental ones. He developed his mind to the level of other kits by constantly hanging around them, and learned his language and his heritage by demanding a recount of his clans history every night before he went to sleep. As he grew up, he became bored with life in the clan, as he was too young to train, hunt, or do any of the fun stuff older cats could do. He entertained himself by thinking and looking and finding things out. He had so many questions about the world and little by little, he gained his answers. He contemplated life, the self, death, leadership, and all of that other stuff. The most profound memories he has of this are when he would stare at the pile of hunted animals. The frogs and mice and the occasional bird...he wondered if they were as smart as he himself was, and if they were, what gave the cats the authority to deny life to such intelligence. Time passed, and he got into trouble from sneaking out, and into places where he shouldn't have been. He made a few friends, and lost a few friends, and found out what was good and wasn't. His experience and philosophy turned him into a bright young cat ready to take on the world.

Sleetpaw was finally able to venture out and see the forest without the constant feeling of immorality in the back of his head. He would always request his training be held out of camp in the wilderness. He loved the squish of the soft ground under his feet, the smells, the sound of frogs, the pools of water...he contemplated their beaut every day. During his training, he began really growing into his body. As he grew taller, he began conditioning himself by climbing and running and challenging himself to practice his fighting and hunting technique with finesse. Finally, this stage of wonder was over, and it was time for him to join the ranks. Ever since, he's gained the respect of other members around the forest.