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Post by Dusk on Jun 22, 2011 20:57:38 GMT -5
NAME// Havocflare;; Havocstar
AGE// 54 Moons
GENDER// Male
CLAN// Zephyrclan
DESIRED POSITION// Experienced Warrior
SHORT DESCRIPTION// A small, charismatic tom with spiky tabby fur and cold, golden eyes.
DESCRIPTION// build;;
First impressions from this tom aren't necessarily all too threatening. Scrawny for a male, there's not much muscle mass on the tom to appear like any sort of immediate danger. He's lithe and whipcord lean, though not as leggy as some other Zephyrclan cats. His musculature, however, is anything but frail. Wiry muscles have not softened with age, and the tom is quick and spry as any freshly made warrior. Though most wouldn't think it, his under-average size actually assists him in battle. A deep chest takes in plenty of air, allowing him to put on great bursts of speed to perform "hit-and-runs" in a battle. However, he can't take heavy blows and recover with the same speed as a heavier, thick-set cat would. It's easy to throw him off balance with one, well placed swipe.
fur;;
In a word, this warrior's pelt look "disheveled"; to say the least. Short. Spiky. Tufty. The hairs have a habit of sticking out in all directions. It doesn't matter the time of day or the weather, the tom always looks scruffy; as though he could afford to groom more often. Not that he doesn't groom; his pelt is free of dirt and grime most of the time, it simply defies any attempt made to keep it looking sleek and settled.
For the most part, Havocflare's pelt is on the dark colored side of the spectrum. The base of the fur on his back, shoulders, and hindquarters is a dark, grayish-brown with lighter brown hairs interspersed wildly throughout to break up the uniformity. Around his muzzle and torso the fur becomes a golden-brown more reminiscent of tan than gray-brown. A spray of white on his chin and throat stands in sharp contrast to the otherwise dull colors on his pelt. The toes of all four paws are also white. Black-brown tabby stripes score his pelt and legs, falling more thickly on his hindquarters than front, and just barely dusting his front legs and face.
The scars on his body are fairly well hidden by his fur, the way it spikes up in all directions usually served to cover up the areas where fur will no longer grow from the damage.
gaze;;
Some cats would call his gaze cold. Others: sharp and piercing. The tom himself just thinks his gaze is serious, perhaps a bit grim. The coloration of the eyes themselves, is a rich golden color. The precise hues of the eyes are actually different. His right eye has a faint, greenish cast to it, while the left is more orange in comparison. Most don't notice it, especially when the light typically makes the two look the same shade.
PERSONALITY// Blunt and to the Point;;
A trait of this cat with both positive and negative effects is his tendency towards straightforwardness. This tom will tell it to you straight, there's no getting around the fact. Lying to save face is more detrimental -in Havocflare's opinion- than just being truthful. Rarely, though, are his words meant to harm. Even somewhat offensive comments lack the barb that would be there if they were said spitefully. In turn, he can be trusted to tell you exactly what you can do to improve form, making him a favorite among some apprentices, yet a stickler for perfection amongst others. If the tom really thinks pointing out his views on something will greatly hurt or offend another, he'll stay quiet rather than voice his thoughts. The tom has no fear in saying that he disapproves of something, though. The nice thing is that the warrior avoids making himself obnoxious, not being so stupid as to point things out at terrible times.
Thoughtful and Charismatic;;
Havocflare is neither a loud-mouth nor a gossiper, preferring to listen first and speak second. He tends to come across as the no-nonsense sort of clan cat; avoiding rash actions and general stupidity. Although a bit introverted and prone to keeping to himself, the tom has a way with words that can really inspire others. When he speaks, he speaks truthfully and only after much contemplation of his words. One way or another, he tries to relate as best he can to others, giving him a sort of unintended charm. It's almost amusing, at times. The way he can spout just the right thing to say and still look serious. The genuine care is really quite endearing. Sarcasm. Such a thing doesn't exist for this cat. He can sniff it out from a mile away, but the warrior himself can never bring himself to use it. The indirect jibes simply don't fit with his personality.
Grim Loyalist;;
One simply can't look at this tom and say, "Oh, he looks really joyous." He doesn't. Although friendly enough and able to keep a more or less positive outlook on life, he's still a matured cat who's seen much in his life. Experience outside of clan life has led him to know that there are more dangers in the world than hunger and rogues, that the world can be a dark place that feigns a utopia. With knowledge like that, who wouldn't be rather grim? At times the warrior is rather dark and withdrawn, unable to stave off the overwhelming wave of dark and angry feelings that he bottles up to remain civil. Said knowledge also, however, helps Havocflare be an extremely grateful cat for what he has. The unity of a clan is far more conducive to living well than the life of a loner. Without Zephyrclan, the warrior would likely be likely living a far less enjoyable life style.
The Sharp-Minded Strategist;;
Havocflare has a wonderful head for battle and strategy. His charisma comes into play here; helping him see who would best work together, what a cat's strengths are, their weaknesses, etc. And he'll use this knowledge to execute certain tactics in the most positive fashion he can see. It's all best to have everything working efficiently. Havocflare likes efficiency. Observant and experienced with battle, he knows the key to a win is adaptability. No need for sneaky tactics on this cat's part, just good old fashioned acting and reacting to a changing situation.
The Humble Gentleman;;
This tom is happy to say he can find content with his lot in life, no matter the haunts that plague his thoughts. He finds satisfaction in the most menial of tasks; be that assisting the elders, watching kits for a while... anything really, so long as it assists someone, somewhere, for the right cause. His grim outward appearance makes him seem formal at times, as though he's only taking on a task because it needs to be done eventually - sooner better than later. In truth, he just likes to help. It isn't in this tom to hold a grudge or spite a person. If another succeeds where he falls short, well good for them. At least it worked out for someone.
EXPERIENCE// kithood;;
His parents went by the name of Aarti and Kala. Aarti was the father, a distant cat who'd lived in Trenton for quite some time. Kala, meanwhile, was a frail she-cat, a former kittypet tempted out of her home by what seemed a caring tom ready to help her on an adventure. Over time, though, the life of a loner -compared to the luxurious ease of a house cat's life- grew lackluster in Kala's eyes. Once her kits were weaned off milk, she returned to her house folk, taking two of her kits with her and leaving behind the strongest in the litter for the sire to take care of; a tufty furred brown tabby tom. Aarti, not exactly the best of fathers, was dismayed at the thought of caring for a hungry kit without help; luckily for the kitten, the loner wasn't about to leave a son to die.
Aarti did his best, but Trenton over forty moons ago was not the same place it is today. Times were lean, and even the dumpsters outside of human homes were lacking in edible foods for cats. There was also sickness. Rats were angry and fierce; would have easily taken a scrawny kit down if the father wasn't there to bar the way. A combination of poor levels of prey and general hostilities on all sides eventually led the tom to take his son far from the town in search of better grounds. They wandered through Tempestclan territory miraculously without meeting a patrol, and finally arrived on Zephyrclan land. On such open-ground, it wasn't long before a hunting patrol spotted them and brought them to the current leader. Happy to take on a fresh young kit to train, both were accepted into the clan. Aarti left, however, in the dead of night. Clan life wasn't for him, and he was just happy to know his kit would be well fed and taken care of far better than if the loner had tried to raise the kitten himself.
When his young son found out about his father's disappearance, he wasn't particularly dismayed. A bit sad at first, but the two had never grown extremely close; the loner had never even given the kit a name. And when the old queen who had agreed to manage him, Harespring, asked for a name, the tom immediately thought of something Aarti had said to him the day before they left Trenton. "You were born into havoc, son." And so the kit became an official clan member under the new name of Havockit.
apprenticeship;;
A newly apprenticed Havocpaw was trained under the watchful eye of an easy-going tom by the name of Frostswirl. Fun loving and talkative, the warrior became the father-figure Aarti never was. Told Havocpaw of all the things he should strive to be: strong, caring, truthful... most importantly loyal. Loyal and ready to support his clan with his last breath. And so the tom trained. Practically raised in the clan from kithood, there wasn't too much alienation of himself from the other clan cats. Indeed he became fast friends with another apprentice named Stormpaw; and later he befriended an older apprentice by many moons: Ripplepaw.
With great companions, the tom was lucky. Luckier than most. The moor had readily become his home in mere moons. His legs may not have been quite as long as those of others, but with practice and training the tom learned to catch hares with the same fluid grace of other wiry Zephyrclan cats. The tom was becoming a Zephyrclan warrior not only in name, but in appearance and spirit as well.
young warrior;;
Nine moons passed in a blur for the tom, his life as an apprentice passed all too soon. There had been small scuffles over food and borders, but never had there been any major battles with other clans. He watched Ripplepaw become Ripplesurf; and Stormpaw become Stormtrick only a moon before he himself would be a warrior. He'd been happy for them both, and eager to join them as a warrior. The leader gave Havocpaw the new name, Havocflare; after his wild fur that liked to flare out it all directions. Frostswirl had been joyous for the cat. All was well. Then, a few moons later, Havocflare took part in his first fatal battle.
It took place during a particularly harsh winter. Food was scarce and fickle prey crossed the borders between Vertigoclan and Zephyrclan in a confusing fashion that inevitably led to trespassing and "prey-stealing" on the part of both clans. High tensions led to battle, cats died on both sides. The sight of those bodies, ravaged and bleeding; the moans of cats in great pain, it brought back repressed memories of his time in Trenton. Dying and starving cats, gnawed on by rats, still alive but better off dead. The thoughts darkened him, played a part in shaping his personality today. No more would he complain over his food; somewhere, a little morsel might be considered a feast. The old memories humbled him. Frostswirl saw the change in his demeanor, but there wasn't much he could do about grim knowledge.
senior warrior;;
A more sombre figure than he used to be, the tom had since become an experienced senior warrior in the clan. Frostswirl had long since gone to join Starclan, but the tom remained close friends with Rippleflame and Stormtrick. Life has taught him much. He never thought of leaving the clan. It's his place, more of a home than Trenton will ever be. Once, and only once, he considered going to back to his old haunt and seeing how it had turned out for cats living there. Instead he's turned his back on the place, happy to leave it behind. Few cats remained who were old enough to remember the hollow cheeked, nameless kit who'd stared in awe at the camp whilst hanging from Aarti's jaws. Whatever his lot in life, the aged tom was simply happy to be a Zephyrclan cat.
deputy;;
Unlike most clan cats, Havocflare was rather unwanting of the position of Zephyrclan deputy. He was all too joyful when his long-time brother in all but blood Ripplesurf was first selected by Paintedstar to be a deputy. He was one of the first to cry his companion's name in glee. However, plague soon struck all the clans and with its arrival many lives were taken. Ripplesurf, weakened by age and strain of being deputy under a collapsing leader contracted the illness and went off on his own to die in the wilderness. For weeks Paintedstar found herself unable to grow past the loss, but eventually the piebald feline came to the realization that a new deputy must be selected. In a twist of irony, she selected Havocflare to take up the position. The tom found himself surprisingly unhappy about the turn of events. It would have been best to simply be dead himself than replace the his beloved friend. The tabby knew sacrifice, however, and realized he couldn't just turn down the offer for fear of Zephyrclan's growing weakness. So he took on the mantle and began working towards strengthening the frail clan.
leader - zephyr;;
Paranoia, stress, and distrust of the clan eventually proved too much for Paintedstar. The she-cat broke under pressure and stepped down, becoming a warrior - Paintedwing - once more. Havocflare became the new leader, pained by the thought that he - a tom of 47 moons at the time - was taking the place of a far younger she-cat. 'Such lost potential.' Even so, he kept his own doubts to himself, making the weary trip to the Crystal Cavern and receiving his nine lives after speaking with his now dead friend Stormtrick. Renewed in both vigor and spirit, the tom set out to rebuild his clan. He remains leader now, striving to keep Zephyrclan in its place of power with the help of his deputy Infernochaser. The tom is ready for the challenges ahead, willing to face all that try to harm his clan-sized "family" to his ninth and final life.
now;;
It would seem that leadership was not going
SAMPLE// A new deputy had to be selected before the moon rose to its highest point; of that there was no doubt. It was customary - a law in the hearts and minds of the clan cats, and something not to be ignored even in the most dire of situations. The ritual provided control and order in a time where chaos and strong emotions were high. Indeed, the ceremony was a key element to stabilizing the fragile hierarchy of the clan. The structure could all too often be endangered; one death and an open position high in the ranks of the clan would be cause of much fighting amongst the ambitious hot-heads were there no predefined method of selecting a successor. Yes, the ceremony was to be viewed as a sort of salvation from greater mayhem. Fawndance currently detested the option with all her being.
The pale, red-and-cream-furred she-cat sat, half hidden in the shadows of her den; trails of ivy and ferns hanging down from the rough hewn surface of the limestone. To the casual observer, the medicine cat appeared just as a proper medicine cat should: serene, composed, and curious as to the going-ons of her clan. Closer scrutiny revealed that the older she-cat was not as relaxed as first impressions would glean. Yellow-green eyes were wary as they fell on her leader while he paced easily through the camp to the ancient tree. Her tail seemed to have a life of its own, twitching and resettling restlessly across her paws although it was already curled comfortably about her. For a moment her gaze left the pale leader to graze across the other clan cats as they went about their lives; it moved on quickly to settle on the immobile form of the once living feline.
So odd; how peaceful death could appear. No more tension in the muscles or strain from constantly being in motion. Ears relaxed; legs neatly tucked beneath the body; eyes closed. She could almost appear asleep... almost. The lack of movement from her chest was more than enough to say that something was amiss. Then there was the unearthly slack in those muscles that could not even be attained by a living being while unconscious; the faint scent of herbs and the chill in the limbs, too, told their own story. Death. It was a part of life - ironic though it did sound in the she-cat's thoughts. So too were decisions a part of life; whether said decisions were for good or bad.
A faintly worried gaze returned to Cometstar as he called together a clan meeting. There was little need, with all the cats having been milling about the camp in anticipation of the event. Fawndance stood and made her way to her place of honor at the base of the tree, only the slightest stiffness in her stride telling of her aging. It would be best to consider selecting an apprentice to start training, but so far no cats seemed to be the right one to train. All the young cats lacked that affinity for memorization of herbs and treatments that would be required as an effective medicine cat. None seemed drawn to the call either 'Doesn't matter right now anyways, with spring here there's little to worry about for some time.' There were more important and current things to worry about for now. Like the decision for a new deputy. Fawndance had already formed her own opinion of likely candidates for the position. What Cometstar had decided, however, was another matter completely.
The medicine cat had watched the tom grow and change with time, having been there even for his kitting in her first moon as an apprentice. Watched him survive through grim times as an apprentice and evolve into a wise and mature warrior. As both an apprentice and a full-blown medicine cat Fawndance had treated wounds on the tom. Though never very close, there was still the shared relationship between a leader and his medicine cat. And wise though he may be, the pale ginger tom was not always a master of his emotions. That's what worried her the most. Would he be impulsive; act rashly and let emotion influence his choice? Perhaps she shouldn't doubt her leader so -after all he'd served without fail for nearly ten moons as a leader- but still the little worries gnawed at her mind the same way a winter-starved cat gnawed a bone.
"I say these words before the body of Shiverleaf, that the spirits of our warrior ancestors may hear and approve of my choice.The new deputy of Celestialclan will be Titianfoot!"
Fawndance blinked. It was all she could do not to glance sharply at her leader as he leapt down from the branches and greeted the new deputy. Not the results she'd expected, not in the slightest. Titianfoot was a bit young for the position, was she not? Not even thirty moons yet if memory served, and the feline wasn't so old as to doubt her recall quite yet.
'Mature though - for her age anyways.'
The warrior's loyalty couldn't be doubted, after all she was one of the hardest working cats in the clan. Smart too, she kept a good head in battle which was more than could be said for some others. As Fawndance rationalized the decision she found herself objecting less. A frown formed on her lips for a split second as she watched the leader and deputy, but it was replaced just as fast with an easy smile. She padded over to the other she-cat and nodded her head in greeting; dipping it slightly lower in a respectful fashion to Cometstar as well.
"Not quite the choice I expected, Cometstar, but good all the same I believe," she mewed in an even tone. No point in masking thoughts behind fancy words. "And brave words on your part, she continued, directing her speech now to Titianfoot. 'Let's hope you can uphold them.' Fawndance added silently. "Congratulations on becoming deputy."
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Post by lace ! on Jun 24, 2011 20:37:35 GMT -5
xx accepted as a warrior of zephyrclan. once all deputy try-outs are over/completed, i will announce my decision. wonderful biography, very well-written.
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