Marshpaw // Shadowclan

Marshpaw
pictures; x [more what he looks like when older]
Age: eight moons
Gender: tom
Rank: apprentice
Clan: Shadowclan
Short Description:A massive plush-furred tortoiseshell tom with pale yellow eyes.

Appearance:

The first thing that hits you is his size - he’s huge even at his young age, even dwarfing the older apprentices nearing their warrior ceremonies. The second is his mismatched limbs, all lanky with big blundering paws at the end despite his stout built. He can be a little odd to look at; disproportioned as he is in his youth. And while his face still hold some kit-like roundness he is steadily growing into the large, wide cheeked wedge of his sturdy skull and tall angled ears. Despite any awkwardness his size brings him in movement the apprentice has adopted a large loping gait that tends to keep him on his feet. A surprisingly steady, but not the quickest, way of traveling.

He was given his prefix for his coat; a muddle of black and varying orange tones that remained his parents of the large tracks of bog and low brush of their homeland. Though short it is quite thick, and ultimately soft enough to be considered plushy. His whiskers fluctuate between black and off white while his nose and pads are resolutely dark. His tail is rather long and is a useful companion in his battle for balance while his paws, though a little too big normally are useful in the marshy territory Shadowclan rules over, ease his tracks over the mushy ground by the distribution of his sizable weight.

His eyes are of general shape, more round then oval and only slightly slanted upwards at their outermost point. They aren’t of any vibrant color but rather a yellow so pale that it could be almost considered dull. That holds it’s own appeal though, for if he had so wished to stare in the past he received hardly a rebuttal for it - he drew little attention to himself for anything other then his size and so could observe the small world of his camp with leisure.

Personality:

Growing up without siblings has left Marshpaw without a strong sense of competitive spirit, or helped him gain confidence with his body physically. His size was always something that had startled his clanmates and been the meat of most talk between them. His reserved nature as a kit didn’t help much, and most often left them assuming that his large physic would be all that he could offer the clan as he matured. He never sought to change their opinions on that matter; clan cats tended to talk to others of their age and seeing as there were no other kits in the nursery until he was quite older he spoke very little. Well, apart to his mother.

With as much time as they spent together -his father merely brief spurts of quiet awe recalled only in his earliest memories- it was many of her contemplative mannerisms that he ended up adopting. Though while his mother was an actively friendly sort he often didn’t speak unless spoken to and finding little reason to initiate conversation opted for merely observing. He ended up staring at things or other cats a lot of the time and though his pale eyes unnerved some it was easier to assume he was simply daydreaming or spacing out then attempting some actual thought process. On the contrary Marshpaw tended to think often and about many things. As such he became a cat that was very aware; of what went on around him and the intricacies of conversation where others were often too busy talking to listen and notice.

He’s a strange mix of passivity and quiet resolution. He isn’t easy to anger and most cats have never seen him with a spark of emotion other then the seemingly blank look coupled with slow blinking he does in recognition of… Well, most things. Most cats cling to the idea that he’s just a little slow, even now that he’s older, and pay little mind to the big apprentice. Marshpaw finds he likes it that way - they don’t ask much of him and are otherwise oblivious to his movements. He can watch and think in peace without the worry of confrontation or the stress of forcing himself into competition. At the same time he isn’t really lazy; he works hard to better himself and is earnest in what he does and what he [eventually] says.

History:

Conceived during a difficult leaf bare[? - just going to put that down there but if it isn’t applicable due to site history or whatever I can change it] he was later born as a single kit litter to his young queen mother and large warrior father in better times. Despite their previous troubles bringing kits into the world they were attentive and fair parents, if not a little over protective at times, of their only kit.

Being the only queen and ‘litter’ in the nursery at the time Marshkit grew up almost entirely on his mother’s attentions, his father passing away from a last long health complication only a short time after his birth. It wasn’t entirely known what he passed on from but his mother took his death relatively well, considering. It hadn’t been a secret how susceptible the large warrior was to sickness and it had only been a matter of time as he had begun to get older. Marshkit was too young to really grieve or miss the loss of a father figure - but one could say he more then made up for it with his affection for his mother.

She was a quiet but friendly she-cat; thoughtful, smart, and unassuming. She raised him well on her own, though his large size and reservation, not to mention his father’s history of illness, raised worried suspicion in the clan. With his reluctance to speak, even to others closer to his age, and odd habits that weren’t entirely kit like there just seemed to be a general idea throughout the clan that he was a bit slow. The fact that he was an only kit, and the only successful outcome of many tries seemed to fuel the idea.

Of course his mother knew different but she wasn’t all that worried about what her clanmates thought, not when they came to her with worried whispers or sent the medicine cat out to check on them with unnerving regularity. They would either accept her son for who he was or cling to unproven gossip, it wasn‘t something she could force their view on, unless Marshkit himself was willing. The big kit simply took and made use of what leniency he was given - he wasn’t unhappy, nor did the looks or gossip bother him. He was unmovable in that way - even when he was young.

The worry eventually quietened down when he neared his apprenticeship and by daily, if limited, interaction seemed to prove to everyone he wasn’t completely useless or unable.