Post by ¿Laughing`? on Mar 10, 2009 19:23:44 GMT -5
Name: Crowfrost, his full medicine cat name. He was once Crowpaw, a medicine cat apprentice and Crowkit, the youngest son of Scorchedear and Quicksong.
Age: Crowfrost is quite a young medicine cat, reaching his twenty-fifth moon. This is exactly two years and a month in the way that humans measure the passing time.
Gender: Tom, though such a title does not have any meaning for a medicine cat.
Clan, Tribe, or Rogue: Shadowclan has been his home his whole life, he does not plan on betraying it.
Rank: Medicine cat, a job that he will be doing for the rest of his time. There is no retiring from this.
Picture:
Appearance: Crowfrost does not have the body of his Clanmates, the body that has been of use to the Shadowclan. He does not have the hulking muscular shoulders that aid in the offensive movements that Shadowclan has been known for. He has always has the frailest form of all of his brothers and sisters, most say that it was because he was the youngest. His form is far more useful in the field of dodging and fleeing then anything. His legs are longer then the typical Shadowclanner, which serve as help in his stride. This is also aided by his large paws, though they are quite cumbersome at times in his herb picking, leading to him having to stick his nose in the grass. He has a well-rounded and friendly face, if he ever projected such a feel. Sometimes he simply doesn't feel like smiling uselessly.
This tom has a single colored pelt, not a single hair different from the rest. Is is shaded like the night sky when it is starless and moonless, a great empty expanse of simple onyx. It is short and warm in the seasons it needs to be, though a bit suffocating in the days of spring that get warmer before the moons have changed correctly. He attracts heat with his coat so he often feels overwhelmed in the green-leaf days, the sun constantly eating him away. However, despite the harsh treatment that it is given, it remains silk to the touch no matter how tough of a time he is going through. Its shine might decrease and tufts of fur might fall out in stressful times, but it will always be the same kind of softness as it is when he is healthy.
Crowfrost has one thing that causes a disturbance from his completely ebon pelt, that is the chilled color of his eyes. They are an icy azule, though greatfully flecked with navy. The ring around his eye that shows the difference between his iris and the rest of his eye is dark blue borderline black. and In the middle of his stare are his dark pupils which will retract and grow in the light or the dark.
Crowfrost has a scar across the back of his head from a rather deep wound that he obtained as an apprentice during a battle against rogues. He does not think much about it, though he subconsciously touches it with the tip of his tail at times of nervousness.
Personality: Crowfrost is a curious character indeed, his behavior not the typical medicine cat yet not quite there to the violent nature of the warriors of his Clan. He does have a rather twisted side to him, though, one which Starclan is aware of and is still accepting of his hideous behavior at times. He projects an aloof aura on most occasions, the only time that warriors come to him is when they simply cannot come to a solution by themselves. He does not force this kind of feeling from himself, but he has found that it is sufficent in having the others learn self preservation skills, little facts here and there that might help them heal themselves in mid-battle when Crowfrost can't get around to them. He is careful who he deeply associates himself with, picking and choosing his friends with a cautious mindset. He is hardly ever concerned deeply, except for when a cat seem on the verge of death and he simply cannot do anything, or so he believes. He will have small panic attacks when faced with a situation too big for him to handle, though he'll breathe himself through in some way. He is reliant on friends that he has known for a long time, dropping his apathetic mask to speak casually and openly to them.
History: Crowfrost was born as the final son and youngest of the only litter bore by Quicksong, conceived by Scorchedear. He was naturally then expected to be the one who lead the most normal life, becoming simply a warrior and serving his Clan until his eventual death. It was not he was expected to be taken under the wing of the current medicine cat, but perhaps one of his more ambitious sisters, who were gentle as an act to try to persuade the current medic to let them become her apprentice. Yet, it was obvious that neither of them could achieve such a goal, for they were growing quickly into their Shadowclan forms, taking the appearence of kits that would grow to be strong and offensive fights rather then passive healers who stood at the side and watched the violence with hooded eyes. When the litter was born and suckling, Crowfrost was the one that his parents looked at with a thinly veiled disappointment. They truly believed their fragile, youngest son was going to amount to nothing in this time.
As the litter grew, their hierarchy among themselves was established. Crowkit, despite his defined male gender, was always placed last in their social rankings. His oldest sibling was a boy, and since he was the leading power he had to ability to do whatever he wanted to his younger siblings and still get away with it. His brother's name was Sootkit (now, as an ambitious warrior, Sootmask), and he served not as a benevolent leader at all. Crowkit was not teased viciously, but justly ignored for his status. He did not participate in their games, he wasn't allow to dirty their fun fights with his presence. He stood and watchd with little care, though often snuck away from his sibling's watchful eye to talk to the elders, warriors, or medicine cat. He soon was associated with all of the Clan, while his kin remained in their own circle.
His brothers and sisters grew into their forms easily, taking on the signature muscles on the shoulders and upper body. They, though some of their eyes had been on that of the old medicince cat's apprentice, soon realized where their place in the Clan would be. However, they were all aiming higher, for deputy and leader. Crowfrost was developing longer legs and a thinner muscular build, it was so obvious that as the youngest he wasn't amounting to anything at all. He wouldn't even be able to serve his Clan well with his swift appearence. He was a disgrace as an existence to his family, to his fellow felines. Crowfrost did not agree with these thoughts, though they came off the rest of the Clan in waves. Even those who had grown to like him, the young and the old, began to see that he wasn't going anywhere with his life. It was about this time that Crowfrost was growing annoyed with his Clanmates, but it only took the medicine cat to save him from exploding on them.
Snowhymn was his great aunt, the sister of his mother's mother. She was a black and white patched, elderly woman who had an eye for those with latent talent in her field. She had been talking to Crowfrost frequently, taking her time to show him the little things about herbs. He often spoke to her of how he enjoyed the smell of her cave for its relaxing method, and always left her place with a smile replacing the furrowed brow that he had brought to her. She saw how he noted her plants, helped her with sorting and could distinguish between things with a simple grace. She also saw how he wasn't interested in the career of apprenticing for a warrior. It was by then that she approached her leader and asked for Crowfrost as her apprentice, she was getting terribly old and it was about time that someone served under her since Breezesoul's death. The leader accepted and so began Crowfrost's career as a medicine cat's apprentice, He smirked when his siblings asked if he saw it coming.
Snowhymn was not easy on Crowfrost, which was strange at first to him, since she had been so patient and kind to him when he was a kitten. He suspected it was because she knew that she was getting older each passing day and she had to drill the information into him. While she was increasingly impatient with him, he coaxed her temper down some occasionally. He usually just stood there and let her yell or reprimand him with a faint look of amusement. He took her harsh word easily and understood, making his apprenticeship the best he could. The cats of the Clan had grown to like him again, settling their insecurities about his place in the Clan. He, however, began to trust people less in return to their shallow outlook of him. This stemmed to his later behavior of only communicating with those who he found suitable.
Snowhymn named him Crowfrost on his twelfth moon, one moon after his siblings had been given their names. He took the name with a bit of annoyance, though smiled at the thought that his eyes were chilling enough to become part of his title. He was, at the time, unaware that his name had a double meaning, the color of his eyes coupled with his aloof personality.
It was not long after Snowhymn gave him his name, maybe several months, before the old she-cat finally plugged out. It was silently and in her sleep, and Crowfrost woke up to her fading warmth. She did not tell him anything the night before, did not wake him up to warn him of her passing. Her funeral was held and everyone watched her pass with uttermost respect. Crowfrost was one of those who helped bury the dead and then go comfort those who needed to be comforted, even though he was far from the right thing as a therapist. He knew that Snowhymn allowed Starclan to take her because she saw that he was ready to go on and become the medicine cat in her stead. He numbly thanked her when he went to his den that night alone.
Crowfrost was immediately the medicine cat that scoffed at silly things such as little cuts and thorns stuck in pads. He often passed judgement upon those who came to him for those unnecessary things, scolded them for their ridiculous request and then taught them how to do the things themselves. He was noted to be the coldest medicince cat to ever pass through Starclan's judgement. Yet, there were times when he acted with a bit more life, especially around those who had talked to him as children. He openly showed his perception of others, but not without someone to hear. He thought that thinking alone was tiring.
Crowfrost's first emergency as a medicine cat was when the border patrol carried in his sister, Dovesong, after a border skirmish that got out of control. They rapidly told the medic what happened, one of the Clans had come too close to the border in Dovesong's eye and she called it out, being as hot headed as she was. The other Clanners and her pursued in a stupid verbal war, a ridiculous slap-fight, banter form. Dovesong had taken the first step against them, placing her paw dangerously close to the scent markers that they had put up moments before. The other Clan saw this as an offensive attack and two of them jump at her, the other two looking with faint amusement and security that their side would win. They did, by the look of the slashes that had ruined Dovesong's perfect white form. The patrolers didn't have to say anymore then what they did, leaving Crowfrost to begin his treatment on his sister. He succeeded in repairing her wounds, laying stripes of cobwebs over them and gently easing her to sleep with poppy seeds. He was only aware of the fact that when Dovesong got up, she would also realize that he could not save her eyes. His oldest sister was blind.
Dovesong woke up to the horror of sightlessness and ran from the camp in Crowfrost's slumber. She dived through the undergrowth she had known all of her life, not capable of seeing it any longer. Dovesong ran head-first into the marshes, the murky plant life drew her away. Dovesong was found dead the next day by suffocation. Crowfrost blamed himself.
There has been nothing quite as mentally scarring as his sister's death to Crowfrost. He continues to live out his days, but is constantly aware of his more sickly patients. He thinks that one might hurt and kill themselves like Dovesong did. He is afraid to ever let them out of his den.
RP Sample: Crowfrost did not remember the last time that someone had actually put him on a hunting patrol. And if a memory is fuzzy to the night-colored tom, it means that it was when he was starting out as an apprentice. It must've been with his mentor at that time, or with a couple of other apprentices, maybe his siblings. But it had certainly been so long that he forgot what it felt like to not immediately pounce down on a piece of prey and enjoy it. Now he had to resiste the urge to bite into whatever he could catch and just eat it, instead investing the time of burying the prey for later carrying back to the little mouths that needed to be fed. This would be his mother's new litter, his new siblings trampling around and playing games with each other. He had kept a careful eye over them, making sure that they did not run into the medic's den and mess with things when he was away. But now he had no say over what they did and what they played with, and that agitated him.
He was not aware of what logical thought passed through the deputies mind when he said that Crowfrost was going on the hunting patrol. The medicine cat, the freaking medicine cat. He did not moan openly, accepted the job with an apathetic expression and then turned back to his den and slipped inside. He could not, seriously, be doing this, right? He had heard the name of who would be going with him, a single tom named Lizardtail. As if things were not troublesome enough, now they would be awkward. Crowfrost would've prefered that there had been at least three on the patrol including him, leaving the warrior and the apprentice or warrior and warrior to hunt amongst themselves while he turned and hunted by himself. That meant little communication between him and the other party. But now, now he was actually going to have to associate himself with another without early consultation. That fact made the scowl on his face ever more present.
"I can't believe that Viperfang had the idea that I was fit to be hunting for the Clan," the tom said, ice slipping past his sharp teeth as he ground them together. The fur on his shoulders remained flat, and his dislike for the situation was only issued on his face. Surely Viperfang would later realize what a mistake he had made by putting the tom on the patrol. Perhaps he would be extra violent the next time that the man entered his den, looking for someone to treat the especially important wound on his shoulder. Muttering day-dreams, Crowfrost looked into the warriors den for the man that he had been put together with for the hunting patrol. Lizardtail... Lizardtail. The name brought up the image of a salamander, one that lost its tail. From his lips he let a chuckle depart, he better not tell the man the image he had of him. "Lizardtail, hunting patrol. Get up."
Crowfrost left it at that, leaving the scene immediately after. Some were just plain lazy these days. He didn't actually know if Lizardtail was in the warriors den, no, he had not been that interested if he was or not. But he had not seen him in the camp, or at least not yet. Perhaps his eyes just weren't working as they had before and he was only twenty five moons old. How distressing. Crowfrost blankly turned towards the Shadeclan enterance, padding forward until he was resisting the urge to just run through, into the territory, and be done with it. Yet, despite his thinking that he had no reason to wait for the aged warrior, Crowfrost realized it was his duty to stick around and wait for the man. After all, it was his companion for the patrol.
|Words. . .six hundred and forty-eight.
|Muse. . .there, kind of.
|Notes. . .none.
(Yes, I am guilty. I used this character before on another site. He was only there for a couple of weeks and roleplayed twice before the site shut down. So, he is still kind of new.)
Age: Crowfrost is quite a young medicine cat, reaching his twenty-fifth moon. This is exactly two years and a month in the way that humans measure the passing time.
Gender: Tom, though such a title does not have any meaning for a medicine cat.
Clan, Tribe, or Rogue: Shadowclan has been his home his whole life, he does not plan on betraying it.
Rank: Medicine cat, a job that he will be doing for the rest of his time. There is no retiring from this.
Picture:
Appearance: Crowfrost does not have the body of his Clanmates, the body that has been of use to the Shadowclan. He does not have the hulking muscular shoulders that aid in the offensive movements that Shadowclan has been known for. He has always has the frailest form of all of his brothers and sisters, most say that it was because he was the youngest. His form is far more useful in the field of dodging and fleeing then anything. His legs are longer then the typical Shadowclanner, which serve as help in his stride. This is also aided by his large paws, though they are quite cumbersome at times in his herb picking, leading to him having to stick his nose in the grass. He has a well-rounded and friendly face, if he ever projected such a feel. Sometimes he simply doesn't feel like smiling uselessly.
This tom has a single colored pelt, not a single hair different from the rest. Is is shaded like the night sky when it is starless and moonless, a great empty expanse of simple onyx. It is short and warm in the seasons it needs to be, though a bit suffocating in the days of spring that get warmer before the moons have changed correctly. He attracts heat with his coat so he often feels overwhelmed in the green-leaf days, the sun constantly eating him away. However, despite the harsh treatment that it is given, it remains silk to the touch no matter how tough of a time he is going through. Its shine might decrease and tufts of fur might fall out in stressful times, but it will always be the same kind of softness as it is when he is healthy.
Crowfrost has one thing that causes a disturbance from his completely ebon pelt, that is the chilled color of his eyes. They are an icy azule, though greatfully flecked with navy. The ring around his eye that shows the difference between his iris and the rest of his eye is dark blue borderline black. and In the middle of his stare are his dark pupils which will retract and grow in the light or the dark.
Crowfrost has a scar across the back of his head from a rather deep wound that he obtained as an apprentice during a battle against rogues. He does not think much about it, though he subconsciously touches it with the tip of his tail at times of nervousness.
Personality: Crowfrost is a curious character indeed, his behavior not the typical medicine cat yet not quite there to the violent nature of the warriors of his Clan. He does have a rather twisted side to him, though, one which Starclan is aware of and is still accepting of his hideous behavior at times. He projects an aloof aura on most occasions, the only time that warriors come to him is when they simply cannot come to a solution by themselves. He does not force this kind of feeling from himself, but he has found that it is sufficent in having the others learn self preservation skills, little facts here and there that might help them heal themselves in mid-battle when Crowfrost can't get around to them. He is careful who he deeply associates himself with, picking and choosing his friends with a cautious mindset. He is hardly ever concerned deeply, except for when a cat seem on the verge of death and he simply cannot do anything, or so he believes. He will have small panic attacks when faced with a situation too big for him to handle, though he'll breathe himself through in some way. He is reliant on friends that he has known for a long time, dropping his apathetic mask to speak casually and openly to them.
History: Crowfrost was born as the final son and youngest of the only litter bore by Quicksong, conceived by Scorchedear. He was naturally then expected to be the one who lead the most normal life, becoming simply a warrior and serving his Clan until his eventual death. It was not he was expected to be taken under the wing of the current medicine cat, but perhaps one of his more ambitious sisters, who were gentle as an act to try to persuade the current medic to let them become her apprentice. Yet, it was obvious that neither of them could achieve such a goal, for they were growing quickly into their Shadowclan forms, taking the appearence of kits that would grow to be strong and offensive fights rather then passive healers who stood at the side and watched the violence with hooded eyes. When the litter was born and suckling, Crowfrost was the one that his parents looked at with a thinly veiled disappointment. They truly believed their fragile, youngest son was going to amount to nothing in this time.
As the litter grew, their hierarchy among themselves was established. Crowkit, despite his defined male gender, was always placed last in their social rankings. His oldest sibling was a boy, and since he was the leading power he had to ability to do whatever he wanted to his younger siblings and still get away with it. His brother's name was Sootkit (now, as an ambitious warrior, Sootmask), and he served not as a benevolent leader at all. Crowkit was not teased viciously, but justly ignored for his status. He did not participate in their games, he wasn't allow to dirty their fun fights with his presence. He stood and watchd with little care, though often snuck away from his sibling's watchful eye to talk to the elders, warriors, or medicine cat. He soon was associated with all of the Clan, while his kin remained in their own circle.
His brothers and sisters grew into their forms easily, taking on the signature muscles on the shoulders and upper body. They, though some of their eyes had been on that of the old medicince cat's apprentice, soon realized where their place in the Clan would be. However, they were all aiming higher, for deputy and leader. Crowfrost was developing longer legs and a thinner muscular build, it was so obvious that as the youngest he wasn't amounting to anything at all. He wouldn't even be able to serve his Clan well with his swift appearence. He was a disgrace as an existence to his family, to his fellow felines. Crowfrost did not agree with these thoughts, though they came off the rest of the Clan in waves. Even those who had grown to like him, the young and the old, began to see that he wasn't going anywhere with his life. It was about this time that Crowfrost was growing annoyed with his Clanmates, but it only took the medicine cat to save him from exploding on them.
Snowhymn was his great aunt, the sister of his mother's mother. She was a black and white patched, elderly woman who had an eye for those with latent talent in her field. She had been talking to Crowfrost frequently, taking her time to show him the little things about herbs. He often spoke to her of how he enjoyed the smell of her cave for its relaxing method, and always left her place with a smile replacing the furrowed brow that he had brought to her. She saw how he noted her plants, helped her with sorting and could distinguish between things with a simple grace. She also saw how he wasn't interested in the career of apprenticing for a warrior. It was by then that she approached her leader and asked for Crowfrost as her apprentice, she was getting terribly old and it was about time that someone served under her since Breezesoul's death. The leader accepted and so began Crowfrost's career as a medicine cat's apprentice, He smirked when his siblings asked if he saw it coming.
Snowhymn was not easy on Crowfrost, which was strange at first to him, since she had been so patient and kind to him when he was a kitten. He suspected it was because she knew that she was getting older each passing day and she had to drill the information into him. While she was increasingly impatient with him, he coaxed her temper down some occasionally. He usually just stood there and let her yell or reprimand him with a faint look of amusement. He took her harsh word easily and understood, making his apprenticeship the best he could. The cats of the Clan had grown to like him again, settling their insecurities about his place in the Clan. He, however, began to trust people less in return to their shallow outlook of him. This stemmed to his later behavior of only communicating with those who he found suitable.
Snowhymn named him Crowfrost on his twelfth moon, one moon after his siblings had been given their names. He took the name with a bit of annoyance, though smiled at the thought that his eyes were chilling enough to become part of his title. He was, at the time, unaware that his name had a double meaning, the color of his eyes coupled with his aloof personality.
It was not long after Snowhymn gave him his name, maybe several months, before the old she-cat finally plugged out. It was silently and in her sleep, and Crowfrost woke up to her fading warmth. She did not tell him anything the night before, did not wake him up to warn him of her passing. Her funeral was held and everyone watched her pass with uttermost respect. Crowfrost was one of those who helped bury the dead and then go comfort those who needed to be comforted, even though he was far from the right thing as a therapist. He knew that Snowhymn allowed Starclan to take her because she saw that he was ready to go on and become the medicine cat in her stead. He numbly thanked her when he went to his den that night alone.
Crowfrost was immediately the medicine cat that scoffed at silly things such as little cuts and thorns stuck in pads. He often passed judgement upon those who came to him for those unnecessary things, scolded them for their ridiculous request and then taught them how to do the things themselves. He was noted to be the coldest medicince cat to ever pass through Starclan's judgement. Yet, there were times when he acted with a bit more life, especially around those who had talked to him as children. He openly showed his perception of others, but not without someone to hear. He thought that thinking alone was tiring.
Crowfrost's first emergency as a medicine cat was when the border patrol carried in his sister, Dovesong, after a border skirmish that got out of control. They rapidly told the medic what happened, one of the Clans had come too close to the border in Dovesong's eye and she called it out, being as hot headed as she was. The other Clanners and her pursued in a stupid verbal war, a ridiculous slap-fight, banter form. Dovesong had taken the first step against them, placing her paw dangerously close to the scent markers that they had put up moments before. The other Clan saw this as an offensive attack and two of them jump at her, the other two looking with faint amusement and security that their side would win. They did, by the look of the slashes that had ruined Dovesong's perfect white form. The patrolers didn't have to say anymore then what they did, leaving Crowfrost to begin his treatment on his sister. He succeeded in repairing her wounds, laying stripes of cobwebs over them and gently easing her to sleep with poppy seeds. He was only aware of the fact that when Dovesong got up, she would also realize that he could not save her eyes. His oldest sister was blind.
Dovesong woke up to the horror of sightlessness and ran from the camp in Crowfrost's slumber. She dived through the undergrowth she had known all of her life, not capable of seeing it any longer. Dovesong ran head-first into the marshes, the murky plant life drew her away. Dovesong was found dead the next day by suffocation. Crowfrost blamed himself.
There has been nothing quite as mentally scarring as his sister's death to Crowfrost. He continues to live out his days, but is constantly aware of his more sickly patients. He thinks that one might hurt and kill themselves like Dovesong did. He is afraid to ever let them out of his den.
RP Sample: Crowfrost did not remember the last time that someone had actually put him on a hunting patrol. And if a memory is fuzzy to the night-colored tom, it means that it was when he was starting out as an apprentice. It must've been with his mentor at that time, or with a couple of other apprentices, maybe his siblings. But it had certainly been so long that he forgot what it felt like to not immediately pounce down on a piece of prey and enjoy it. Now he had to resiste the urge to bite into whatever he could catch and just eat it, instead investing the time of burying the prey for later carrying back to the little mouths that needed to be fed. This would be his mother's new litter, his new siblings trampling around and playing games with each other. He had kept a careful eye over them, making sure that they did not run into the medic's den and mess with things when he was away. But now he had no say over what they did and what they played with, and that agitated him.
He was not aware of what logical thought passed through the deputies mind when he said that Crowfrost was going on the hunting patrol. The medicine cat, the freaking medicine cat. He did not moan openly, accepted the job with an apathetic expression and then turned back to his den and slipped inside. He could not, seriously, be doing this, right? He had heard the name of who would be going with him, a single tom named Lizardtail. As if things were not troublesome enough, now they would be awkward. Crowfrost would've prefered that there had been at least three on the patrol including him, leaving the warrior and the apprentice or warrior and warrior to hunt amongst themselves while he turned and hunted by himself. That meant little communication between him and the other party. But now, now he was actually going to have to associate himself with another without early consultation. That fact made the scowl on his face ever more present.
"I can't believe that Viperfang had the idea that I was fit to be hunting for the Clan," the tom said, ice slipping past his sharp teeth as he ground them together. The fur on his shoulders remained flat, and his dislike for the situation was only issued on his face. Surely Viperfang would later realize what a mistake he had made by putting the tom on the patrol. Perhaps he would be extra violent the next time that the man entered his den, looking for someone to treat the especially important wound on his shoulder. Muttering day-dreams, Crowfrost looked into the warriors den for the man that he had been put together with for the hunting patrol. Lizardtail... Lizardtail. The name brought up the image of a salamander, one that lost its tail. From his lips he let a chuckle depart, he better not tell the man the image he had of him. "Lizardtail, hunting patrol. Get up."
Crowfrost left it at that, leaving the scene immediately after. Some were just plain lazy these days. He didn't actually know if Lizardtail was in the warriors den, no, he had not been that interested if he was or not. But he had not seen him in the camp, or at least not yet. Perhaps his eyes just weren't working as they had before and he was only twenty five moons old. How distressing. Crowfrost blankly turned towards the Shadeclan enterance, padding forward until he was resisting the urge to just run through, into the territory, and be done with it. Yet, despite his thinking that he had no reason to wait for the aged warrior, Crowfrost realized it was his duty to stick around and wait for the man. After all, it was his companion for the patrol.
|Words. . .six hundred and forty-eight.
|Muse. . .there, kind of.
|Notes. . .none.
(Yes, I am guilty. I used this character before on another site. He was only there for a couple of weeks and roleplayed twice before the site shut down. So, he is still kind of new.)
