Post by blue on Aug 4, 2016 4:20:07 GMT
Weaselclaw
A LANKY TOM WITH SHORT BLACK FUR AND CLEAR GREEN EYES
NAME: Weaselclaw
GENDER: Male
AGE: 17 moons
CLAN: WindClan
POSITION: Warrior
GENDER: Male
AGE: 17 moons
CLAN: WindClan
POSITION: Warrior
APPEARANCE:
With a slim build and long legs, Weaselclaw perfectly fits the WindClan stereotype, and small paws carry his lean frame nimbly across the moorlands. Agile and light on his feet, he can run respectably when he wants to, but he much prefers strutting around. Thinking himself quite a handsome tom (indeed, he is not hard on the eyes), he carries himself with his head high and his fur meticulously groomed, though it never seems to stay that way for long. When in the company of others, he is always very aware of how others see him, and loud and outgoing, he makes a habit of putting on quite the show. Because the wild energy that surrounds him does much to hide his size, most do not realize that he is not a particularly large cat; only when they see him from a distance, when they notice how the vastness of the world seems to swallow him up, do others realize that he is actually slightly smaller than average. With fur that is a pure, unrelenting black, he is a relatively unremarkable tom. Pale green eyes, clear and bright with youthful energy, stand out stark against the dark backdrop.
PERSONALITY:
Weaselclaw has the potential be everything everyone could ever want from a warrior – if he would only grow up. Delightful and charming, the young tom always seems to know exactly what to say, and the prospect of hard work – as long as it’s for the right cause – doesn’t bother him. He is intelligent and quick to pick up new concepts. Though not the most skilled among the clan’s ranks, he is certainly of average ability, and further practice would only benefit him. It is unfortunate, then, that instead of striving to become the most useful warrior, he would much rather be out surrounded by his friends.
The physical manifestation of wasted potential, this young tom is only out to have fun and chase after his own pleasure. Having a good time is of the utmost importance, and he is drawn not only toward the physically pleasing – the feeling of the sun warming his back, the lingering coolness after a recent rainfall blinding flash of lightning cutting across a darkened backdrop of storm clouds – but also the exciting thrills that get his blood racing. The pursuit of such entertainment has brought him across a wide variety of circumstances. A sharp mind makes him quick to adapt to these new and interesting situations, and he enjoys the challenge of making a game out of anything. Life is too short to be taken seriously, and the world has too much to offer to make it worthwhile to always stay in the lines. To him, rules are made to be broken, and orders from authority are more often than not mere suggestions. In his mind, he is a wild cat, free of the shackles of duty that chain down the others.
With his own gratification paramount, he puts all his effort toward acquiring everything that catches his attention, and it is only in the name of this ultimate goal that he will actually, willingly work. More inclined to lay around in the sun than patrol the border, he often does his best to weasel his way out of performing his duties. Work is boring and tiring, so why waste time with that when he could be out running across the moorlands in search of his next great adventure? However Weaselclaw is not oblivious to the way his particular proclivities draw the ire of the more duty-bound cats in his clan. Fairly perceptive, he knows when to push on this point and when to step back. But just because he can be bullied into doing what he ought to have already done doesn’t mean that he likes it. If otherwise motivated to work, he will not hesitate to voice his displeasure and complain. Loudly.
Born with a natural charisma, he moves with the easy confidence that those many moons older than he often strive for. He would liken himself to a star, for he gathers cats who orbit around him and bask in his light. Indeed, rarely is the young tom completely alone. He likes to be in the middle of the action, especially if the action includes beautiful she-cats and/or handsome toms. Weaselclaw has an eye and a strong appreciation for beauty of all types. He admires the appearances of those around him with the same enthusiasm he turns toward the brilliance of the setting sun or the eerie stillness after a fresh snowfall. But even in a crowd one can be alone. Although the keen instincts of a silver tongued help him drift from cat to cat, he is friendly to all but friend to very few.
It is almost sad, but for now, he is too caught up in pursuing his own enjoyment to care.
The physical manifestation of wasted potential, this young tom is only out to have fun and chase after his own pleasure. Having a good time is of the utmost importance, and he is drawn not only toward the physically pleasing – the feeling of the sun warming his back, the lingering coolness after a recent rainfall blinding flash of lightning cutting across a darkened backdrop of storm clouds – but also the exciting thrills that get his blood racing. The pursuit of such entertainment has brought him across a wide variety of circumstances. A sharp mind makes him quick to adapt to these new and interesting situations, and he enjoys the challenge of making a game out of anything. Life is too short to be taken seriously, and the world has too much to offer to make it worthwhile to always stay in the lines. To him, rules are made to be broken, and orders from authority are more often than not mere suggestions. In his mind, he is a wild cat, free of the shackles of duty that chain down the others.
With his own gratification paramount, he puts all his effort toward acquiring everything that catches his attention, and it is only in the name of this ultimate goal that he will actually, willingly work. More inclined to lay around in the sun than patrol the border, he often does his best to weasel his way out of performing his duties. Work is boring and tiring, so why waste time with that when he could be out running across the moorlands in search of his next great adventure? However Weaselclaw is not oblivious to the way his particular proclivities draw the ire of the more duty-bound cats in his clan. Fairly perceptive, he knows when to push on this point and when to step back. But just because he can be bullied into doing what he ought to have already done doesn’t mean that he likes it. If otherwise motivated to work, he will not hesitate to voice his displeasure and complain. Loudly.
Born with a natural charisma, he moves with the easy confidence that those many moons older than he often strive for. He would liken himself to a star, for he gathers cats who orbit around him and bask in his light. Indeed, rarely is the young tom completely alone. He likes to be in the middle of the action, especially if the action includes beautiful she-cats and/or handsome toms. Weaselclaw has an eye and a strong appreciation for beauty of all types. He admires the appearances of those around him with the same enthusiasm he turns toward the brilliance of the setting sun or the eerie stillness after a fresh snowfall. But even in a crowd one can be alone. Although the keen instincts of a silver tongued help him drift from cat to cat, he is friendly to all but friend to very few.
It is almost sad, but for now, he is too caught up in pursuing his own enjoyment to care.
HISTORY:
By the time Weaselkit was born, his parents had just seen their first litter, a tom and two she-cats, enter the warrior’s den. About six moons previously, when Shadetail, Ivynose, Antleap, had left the nursery and started their training, Ravenwing had become very aware of just how much she missed their small bodies curled up beside her, and a few moons later, she announced her desire to have a second litter. Badgerfur, her mate, was willing, and it wasn’t long before word began to spread about the impending arrival of kits. However, the large litter that they were hoping for contained only one kit, a midnight black tom, and though they were a little disappointed, they did not love him any less.
From the beginning, Weaselkit was thrust into the spotlight. With two older sisters, a brother, parents, and family friends who doted on him, he became accustomed to his role as the center of attention. He spent more time with his family than he did other cats his age, for they were more interesting than the only other litter of kits in the nursery. (Those little lumps of fur were always sleeping, and they never wanted to play with him.) Of his older siblings, it was with Shadetail, his older brother, that the young tom formed a particularly close bond. Shadetail was a warrior who delighted in having such an avid fan, and he quickly found out what Weaselkit liked to hear and repeated it. They spent the afternoons talking about she-cats (and how to woo them) and Shadetail’s glorious adventures of days long ago.
When the elder of the two did not have any duties to perform, the young pair made their own adventures together, even managing to sneak out of camp on a particularly fun day. It did, however, end very poorly when they returned to camp only to be met with the full force of Ravenwing’s displeasure. She grounded him. Weaselkit was to stay in the nursery for an entire moon, and even worse, once he finally got back out, there was to be no more adventuring without a responsible adult nearby.
After the first few horrible days of his punishment, however, he soon realized that perhaps his jail sentence wasn’t as bad as it had initially seemed. At some point while he was amusing himself with his older brother’s help, the other kits had decided that they had slept enough, and they were now more exciting. In particular, a little she-cat caught his eye; he liked the way the colors blended together on her calico pelt, especially when she lounged in the sun. For the duration of his punishment, Weaselkit entertained himself by testing out his brother’s advice and trying to charm her, just like he had seen older cats doing. Though her sister thought it hilarious, Heatherkit was entirely unimpressed with his efforts, but he was undeterred. It became something more of a game between them, and by the time he was allowed to leave the confines of the nursery, Heatherkit and her sister, Lightkit, they were something like friends.
Despite his unwelcome adventure, the black tom still managed to become an apprentice on time, and the newly named Weaselpaw found himself answering to Boulderstep. It was a disaster from the beginning. Having discovered a way to enjoy himself even when he was supposed to be miserable, the young cat had no more respect for the rules than he had from the start, and Boulderstep was a stern warrior who hoped to instill a sense of discipline and duty in his wild charge. He failed miserably; even if Weaselpaw ended up in the halter, he still gnawed at the bit and pulled at the reins, refusing to be tamed. The dark cat ditched training to go out and mess around with his friends, and he sweet-talked the kinder apprentices into doing his jobs for him; after all, why would he deliver moss to the elders himself when he could convince someone else to do it for him?
When Boulderstep and Weaselpaw did end up in each other’s vicinity, they spent more time arguing than they did getting work done, and everything took twice as long. (That was, however, in part due to the young apprentice, who had started arguing over the pettiest things simply on principle.) They disagreed over everything, and eventually their relationship degenerated beyond the point of no return. Four long moons into his training, neither of them could stand the other anymore, and Weaselpaw ended up finishing his final moons under a different warrior.
His new mentor, Palewhisker, quickly realized what it would take to get her wayward apprentice to take his lessons seriously and began to invent ways to make the training fun. His last few moons passed far quicker than the first four had, and before he knew it, he was receiving his warrior name, Weaselclaw. He was thirteen moons old when he was welcomed into the warrior den by his exasperated but proud family members.
Throughout his rocky apprenticeship, Weaselclaw had managed to maintain his tentative friendship with the now-named Heatherheart and Lightpelt. Having convinced himself that he liked her as more than a friend, he chased after her, promising eternal love and flowers and everything she could ever want if only she would give him a chance. At the bidding of her sister, Heatherheart caved when he became a warrior, and during their short fling, he realized what she had always known: that they were better off as friends. It was to their old dynamic that they returned.
Warriorhood has treated the young tom kindly. He has quickly become skilled at avoiding his duties or passing them onto others, which leaves him with plenty of time to do as he pleases. Finally, he is free from the beck and call of another cat. No longer confined to camp, he can do what he wants whenever and wherever he wants. Everything is exciting and new, and he loves it.
From the beginning, Weaselkit was thrust into the spotlight. With two older sisters, a brother, parents, and family friends who doted on him, he became accustomed to his role as the center of attention. He spent more time with his family than he did other cats his age, for they were more interesting than the only other litter of kits in the nursery. (Those little lumps of fur were always sleeping, and they never wanted to play with him.) Of his older siblings, it was with Shadetail, his older brother, that the young tom formed a particularly close bond. Shadetail was a warrior who delighted in having such an avid fan, and he quickly found out what Weaselkit liked to hear and repeated it. They spent the afternoons talking about she-cats (and how to woo them) and Shadetail’s glorious adventures of days long ago.
When the elder of the two did not have any duties to perform, the young pair made their own adventures together, even managing to sneak out of camp on a particularly fun day. It did, however, end very poorly when they returned to camp only to be met with the full force of Ravenwing’s displeasure. She grounded him. Weaselkit was to stay in the nursery for an entire moon, and even worse, once he finally got back out, there was to be no more adventuring without a responsible adult nearby.
After the first few horrible days of his punishment, however, he soon realized that perhaps his jail sentence wasn’t as bad as it had initially seemed. At some point while he was amusing himself with his older brother’s help, the other kits had decided that they had slept enough, and they were now more exciting. In particular, a little she-cat caught his eye; he liked the way the colors blended together on her calico pelt, especially when she lounged in the sun. For the duration of his punishment, Weaselkit entertained himself by testing out his brother’s advice and trying to charm her, just like he had seen older cats doing. Though her sister thought it hilarious, Heatherkit was entirely unimpressed with his efforts, but he was undeterred. It became something more of a game between them, and by the time he was allowed to leave the confines of the nursery, Heatherkit and her sister, Lightkit, they were something like friends.
Despite his unwelcome adventure, the black tom still managed to become an apprentice on time, and the newly named Weaselpaw found himself answering to Boulderstep. It was a disaster from the beginning. Having discovered a way to enjoy himself even when he was supposed to be miserable, the young cat had no more respect for the rules than he had from the start, and Boulderstep was a stern warrior who hoped to instill a sense of discipline and duty in his wild charge. He failed miserably; even if Weaselpaw ended up in the halter, he still gnawed at the bit and pulled at the reins, refusing to be tamed. The dark cat ditched training to go out and mess around with his friends, and he sweet-talked the kinder apprentices into doing his jobs for him; after all, why would he deliver moss to the elders himself when he could convince someone else to do it for him?
When Boulderstep and Weaselpaw did end up in each other’s vicinity, they spent more time arguing than they did getting work done, and everything took twice as long. (That was, however, in part due to the young apprentice, who had started arguing over the pettiest things simply on principle.) They disagreed over everything, and eventually their relationship degenerated beyond the point of no return. Four long moons into his training, neither of them could stand the other anymore, and Weaselpaw ended up finishing his final moons under a different warrior.
His new mentor, Palewhisker, quickly realized what it would take to get her wayward apprentice to take his lessons seriously and began to invent ways to make the training fun. His last few moons passed far quicker than the first four had, and before he knew it, he was receiving his warrior name, Weaselclaw. He was thirteen moons old when he was welcomed into the warrior den by his exasperated but proud family members.
Throughout his rocky apprenticeship, Weaselclaw had managed to maintain his tentative friendship with the now-named Heatherheart and Lightpelt. Having convinced himself that he liked her as more than a friend, he chased after her, promising eternal love and flowers and everything she could ever want if only she would give him a chance. At the bidding of her sister, Heatherheart caved when he became a warrior, and during their short fling, he realized what she had always known: that they were better off as friends. It was to their old dynamic that they returned.
Warriorhood has treated the young tom kindly. He has quickly become skilled at avoiding his duties or passing them onto others, which leaves him with plenty of time to do as he pleases. Finally, he is free from the beck and call of another cat. No longer confined to camp, he can do what he wants whenever and wherever he wants. Everything is exciting and new, and he loves it.
WARRIOR OF WINDCLAN
Kuwaki Edda Rose Minteh Freshness
