Post by budgie on Sept 4, 2020 23:05:22 GMT -6
ROOTCLAW
LICHENCLAN
long-haired brown tabby she-cat with green eyes
warrior
she-cat
18 moons
Appearance
STATURE
Small and stocky, Rootclaw is not built for speed. To make up for her lack of agility, she has to rely on cunning and brute force. Her paws are unusually large for her small stature, but help her land more devastating blows with her frequently sharpened claws.
PELT
Rootclaw’s brown tabby pelt is long and raggedy, and she spends a lot of time trying to remove bits of sand from it (to little success). She looks like a walking sea urchin, to be frank.
She has some white fur around her muzzle and on her chest, but otherwise her fur is completely covered in mackerel brown tabby stripes.
FACE
Piercing green eyes that are constantly narrowed don’t give the impression of a friendly cat. Her white whiskers are always unkempt, zigzagging every which way as if they have a mind of their own. The fur that frames her face is similarly scraggly, as if she doesn’t groom very often, or just does a poor job of it.
Small and stocky, Rootclaw is not built for speed. To make up for her lack of agility, she has to rely on cunning and brute force. Her paws are unusually large for her small stature, but help her land more devastating blows with her frequently sharpened claws.
PELT
Rootclaw’s brown tabby pelt is long and raggedy, and she spends a lot of time trying to remove bits of sand from it (to little success). She looks like a walking sea urchin, to be frank.
She has some white fur around her muzzle and on her chest, but otherwise her fur is completely covered in mackerel brown tabby stripes.
FACE
Piercing green eyes that are constantly narrowed don’t give the impression of a friendly cat. Her white whiskers are always unkempt, zigzagging every which way as if they have a mind of their own. The fur that frames her face is similarly scraggly, as if she doesn’t groom very often, or just does a poor job of it.
Personality
+ INTELLIGENT
From kithood, Rootclaw has always been an inquisitive she-cat. She’s always liked to ask questions and squeeze as much information out of a cat as she can.
A cat with few friends, Rootclaw has also spent a lot of time on her own, observing others and the world around her. Over the moons, this has resulted in a rather impressive knowledge of nature, customs in other clans, and even healing herbs.
Of course, Rootclaw likes to think she knows everything, so she is especially embarrassed when she gets something wrong. Instead of admitting that she was wrong, she’ll usually try to insist that she’s right, or walk off in a huff.
+ BOLD
Not afraid to get her claws dirty, Rootclaw will do whatever it takes to reach her aim. She has few reservations about hurting others (physically or emotionally) and will throw claws in a heartbeat if she deems it necessary.
Of course, there are a few risks that she’s not willing to take. Petrified of drowning, she won’t get too close to the waves on the shore, and no way will she jump in for any reason.
= COMPETITIVE
Some days, Rootclaw longs to be an apprentice again because it felt like she was competing against her peers almost every day. Sparring matches, hunting competitions...all replaced by boring warrior duties.
She loves the adrenaline rush of competing, even if she loses. Surprisingly, she’s not a completely sore loser. She’ll usually accept defeat, but not before a few insults are thrown at her opponent.
= PRIVATE
The opposite of her father, Rootclaw doesn’t like to overshare. Luckily for her, that means her pious clanmates don’t know of her borderline disbelief in Starclan, and she’s able to live in relative peace. But it’s a peace that she knows can’t last - while she may not like sharing things about herself, there will come a day when she won’t be able to keep her mouth shut next time Weirdostar or Hemlockfart make an outrageously stupid decree.
- RUDE
Rootclaw is...to put it nicely, not nice. Hard as she tried, Skypetal could not impart her own gentleness to her second-born daughter. Rootclaw is not oblivious or tactless - she knows what she’s saying, she just doesn’t care.
She got a big kick out of bullying the younger apprentices whenever she could, and when other cats have tried to share tongues with her (perhaps out of pity) she’d just hiss at them until they went away. It’ll take a special kind of cat to break through her icy demeanor.
- JEALOUS
Rootclaw spends a lot of time thinking about what she can’t have, and devising ways to get it. Lately, she’s been fixated on the Redwoodclan’s forest territory bordering her own clan’s pitiful line of birch trees. All that nice, prey-rich forest, where warriors can hunt without sand in their paws, and their leader is going after a clump of rock?
Socially, she was always secretly jealous of how easily her sister, Wavepelt, made friends, and how well liked she is in the clan. But Rootclaw reminds herself there are more important things in life, and relationships are nothing but a distraction.
QUIRKS & FUN FACTS
From kithood, Rootclaw has always been an inquisitive she-cat. She’s always liked to ask questions and squeeze as much information out of a cat as she can.
A cat with few friends, Rootclaw has also spent a lot of time on her own, observing others and the world around her. Over the moons, this has resulted in a rather impressive knowledge of nature, customs in other clans, and even healing herbs.
Of course, Rootclaw likes to think she knows everything, so she is especially embarrassed when she gets something wrong. Instead of admitting that she was wrong, she’ll usually try to insist that she’s right, or walk off in a huff.
+ BOLD
Not afraid to get her claws dirty, Rootclaw will do whatever it takes to reach her aim. She has few reservations about hurting others (physically or emotionally) and will throw claws in a heartbeat if she deems it necessary.
Of course, there are a few risks that she’s not willing to take. Petrified of drowning, she won’t get too close to the waves on the shore, and no way will she jump in for any reason.
= COMPETITIVE
Some days, Rootclaw longs to be an apprentice again because it felt like she was competing against her peers almost every day. Sparring matches, hunting competitions...all replaced by boring warrior duties.
She loves the adrenaline rush of competing, even if she loses. Surprisingly, she’s not a completely sore loser. She’ll usually accept defeat, but not before a few insults are thrown at her opponent.
= PRIVATE
The opposite of her father, Rootclaw doesn’t like to overshare. Luckily for her, that means her pious clanmates don’t know of her borderline disbelief in Starclan, and she’s able to live in relative peace. But it’s a peace that she knows can’t last - while she may not like sharing things about herself, there will come a day when she won’t be able to keep her mouth shut next time Weirdostar or Hemlockfart make an outrageously stupid decree.
- RUDE
Rootclaw is...to put it nicely, not nice. Hard as she tried, Skypetal could not impart her own gentleness to her second-born daughter. Rootclaw is not oblivious or tactless - she knows what she’s saying, she just doesn’t care.
She got a big kick out of bullying the younger apprentices whenever she could, and when other cats have tried to share tongues with her (perhaps out of pity) she’d just hiss at them until they went away. It’ll take a special kind of cat to break through her icy demeanor.
- JEALOUS
Rootclaw spends a lot of time thinking about what she can’t have, and devising ways to get it. Lately, she’s been fixated on the Redwoodclan’s forest territory bordering her own clan’s pitiful line of birch trees. All that nice, prey-rich forest, where warriors can hunt without sand in their paws, and their leader is going after a clump of rock?
Socially, she was always secretly jealous of how easily her sister, Wavepelt, made friends, and how well liked she is in the clan. But Rootclaw reminds herself there are more important things in life, and relationships are nothing but a distraction.
QUIRKS & FUN FACTS
- Rootclaw has a terrible, snorting laugh.
- She sharpens her claws often, “just in case”.
- She’s a little bit of a hopeless romantic.
- Her only sister, Wavepelt, is older by a few minutes, but this does not stop Rootclaw from bossing her around.
- Rootclaw cannot swim. She’d be paralyzed by fear and drown before her paws started working to keep her afloat.
History
PROLOGUE: The Tale of Skypetal and Martenfoot
Eager to settle down with a mate, have kits, and escape her new warrior duties as quickly as possible, Skypetal took to the first tom to show interest in her - a senior warrior called Martenfoot.
Even for a Lichenclan cat, Martenfoot was extremely devout to Starclan, making him somewhat of the clan nuisance. If an apprentice forgot to thank Starclan before biting into their prey from across camp, you could be sure Martenfoot would be around to chastise them. If a fight broke out between a group of Lichenclan cats and Redwoodclan cats at a gathering, you could be sure Martenfoot started it, emboldened by his belief that all Redwoodclan cats were going straight to the Dark Forest.
Skypetal was also a devout believer in Starclan, but not the point of unpopularity like her new mate. But she was willing to put up with the constant prayer reminders and being third-wheeled by their starry ancestors, so long as it allowed her to fulfill her duties to her clan in ways other than fighting in endless wars.
As a kit, Skypetal watched both of her older brothers die from wounds suffered fighting battles with Redwoodclan - she decided that she would not go out the same way.
To her great relief, she gave birth to two healthy kits just a few moons after becoming a warrior. Two she-kits, too! One day, they would be able to join her in the safety of the nursery with families of their own. Starclan had truly blessed her!
ROOTKIT: An Awful Pawful
Born alongside her sister Mallowkit, Rootkit was rough, tumble, and pure trouble from the start. From yanking her sister’s fur to get to their mother’s belly to bullying the neighboring kits as soon as she could stumble around the nursery on wobbly legs, Rootkit’s antics kept her mother busy.
Skypetal tried to make proper ladies out of her daughters, but all of the grooming in the world couldn’t keep Rootkit’s fuzzy pelt under control. Her mouth was just as difficult to control - as soon as Rootkit could talk, she seemed to have an opinion on every nursery story and every rule.
Rootclaw remembers her father’s white muzzle poking into the nursery from time to time, and her mother shooing him away with an annoyed paw. The first time she and Mallowkit ventured outside the nursery, he was there to block them from exploring the rest of camp.
“What’s the big idea, smelly tom cat!” Rootkit hissed, desperately ramming her head into the large tom’s legs.
“My name’s Martenfoot - I’m your father!” He puffed out his chest proudly. “Your mother has surely told you about me, hasn’t she? Has she told you my favorite Starclan story? Once, a long time ago…”
From then on, it was difficult for the sisters to escape their father’s lengthy stories and lectures. But by their fourth or fifth moon, they had both mastered the art of evasion, being careful to roam outside the nursery when Martenfoot was out on patrol or asleep.
“Mama, did Starclan really send a flood to wipe out every cat on the island because they were being bad?” Mallowkit asked one night, eyes wide.
Skypetal purred, then spoke softly. “I don’t know, darling. Starclan is very powerful, but they also love us very much. For as long as you have Lichenclan blood running in your veins, they will keep you safe.”
Mallowkit always seemed satisfied with their mother’s reassuring responses to their father’s frightening sermons. But Rootkit always thought that if their mother and father were saying different things about Starclan, then one version had to be wrong. The fear that her father was right - that Starclan was a vindictive force watching her every pawstep - kept her in line. For now.
At three moons old, Rootkit and her sister got to leave camp for the first time. It’s an outing that Rootclaw doesn’t remember much today, but she’ll never forget the feeling of being submerged in the icy water of the Mooncave, feeling it fill and burn her lungs before she was brought up for air again. To this day, Rootclaw keeps a wary eye on the waves that lap against Lichenclan’s shore, terrified of experiencing that feeling again.
ROOTPAW: Ya Learn Somethin’ New Every Day
Skypetal watched nervously from the nursery as her daughters were made apprentices - Rootpaw and Mallowpaw. It meant that soon, she’d be returning to the warrior duties she dreaded so much.
Rootpaw was excited to have some freedom, but she wasn’t iinitially thrilled to be assigned to Roepelt, a small calico she-cat. For starters, her mother had always said she-cats were best at raising kits and helping out in the nursery. What could a she-cat teach her about fighting and hunting, then?
But the young apprentice was pleasantly surprised by her new mentor. Her size made her much faster than Rootpaw’s bulky frame could keep up with, challenging her to come up with ways to outsmart or outlast a faster opponent.
Roepelt wasn’t just a skilled fighter - she was also just an interesting cat to talk to. Rootpaw was so used to conversations dominated by Starclan’s love or wrath, and it was nice to talk about other things for a change.
“You know,” she’d say, as the pair cooled down from a sparring session. “When I was about your age, things weren’t so...strict.”
As time went on, Rootpaw learned more about life in Lichenclan before Minnowstar’s rule - and even some before Sagestar even. About other clans, clans who didn’t follow the same traditions they did (and still managed to get along just fine!). The more she learned about the world, the more wary Rootpaw became of her clan and their leadership.
Minnowstar, a cat that Rootpaw once admired, seemed to be falling into madness with each passing moon. It didn’t help that her father, mother, and even her sister followed her blindly.
For a brief time during her apprenticeship, her mother Skypetal was put back on her warrior duties. It was almost painful to watch her mother stumble through hunting patrols and spook at every rustling bush - conveniently, she became pregnant again and was back in the nursery only a moon into Rootpaw’s apprenticeship.
ROOTCLAW: All Bark, All Bite
Named for her ferocity in battle, Rootclaw became a warrior at 13 moons. Around the time she and her sister, now Mallowtail, were made warriors, their mother Skypetal gave birth to two more kits - Claykit and Dustkit - and happily returned to the nursery.
Only a few sunrises after her warrior ceremony, Roepelt's lifeless body was found far North, at the river that borders Lichenclan territory and the rogue territory. Rootclaw heard that another she-cat from Thistleclan was found in a similar condition in that same area only a quarter moon before. Roepelt was the only cat she had liked in this uptight clan, and now she was gone - if she ever came nose to nose with one of these cowardly rogues, she'd shred their fur off.
As eager as Rootclaw is to spill blood, she hasn’t actually experienced any of the fighting between Lichenclan and Redwoodclan herself yet. She's been trying to be on “good” behavior so that the stuffy old deputy will let her fight, not to mention attend gatherings again (we don’t talk about what happened at her last gathering...).
Neither Rootclaw nor her sister attended the gathering that was crashed by a mysterious tribe cat, but the news spread like wildfire around the camp. Both sisters were relieved not to be sent on the mission to find and kill the intruder in Redwoodclan’s camp, but for different reasons.
Mallowtail, a gentle heart, believed in Minnowstar and Starclan’s will, but just couldn’t bring herself to see another cat hurt, let alone killed. Rootclaw, on the other hand, was just curious - there was a whole clan of cats on the distant island this entire time? Perhaps they could have been valuable allies against Redwoodclan, but Minnowstar’s foolish leadership just had to get in the way.
In the evening, when other warriors are settling down to share tongues, Rootclaw will find herself sitting alone on the shore, thinking about the mysterious tribe cats, imagining their shadows dancing along the shore.
Of course, if she actually met one, she’d probably claw their ears off. But a she-cat can dream, can’t she?
Eager to settle down with a mate, have kits, and escape her new warrior duties as quickly as possible, Skypetal took to the first tom to show interest in her - a senior warrior called Martenfoot.
Even for a Lichenclan cat, Martenfoot was extremely devout to Starclan, making him somewhat of the clan nuisance. If an apprentice forgot to thank Starclan before biting into their prey from across camp, you could be sure Martenfoot would be around to chastise them. If a fight broke out between a group of Lichenclan cats and Redwoodclan cats at a gathering, you could be sure Martenfoot started it, emboldened by his belief that all Redwoodclan cats were going straight to the Dark Forest.
Skypetal was also a devout believer in Starclan, but not the point of unpopularity like her new mate. But she was willing to put up with the constant prayer reminders and being third-wheeled by their starry ancestors, so long as it allowed her to fulfill her duties to her clan in ways other than fighting in endless wars.
As a kit, Skypetal watched both of her older brothers die from wounds suffered fighting battles with Redwoodclan - she decided that she would not go out the same way.
To her great relief, she gave birth to two healthy kits just a few moons after becoming a warrior. Two she-kits, too! One day, they would be able to join her in the safety of the nursery with families of their own. Starclan had truly blessed her!
ROOTKIT: An Awful Pawful
Born alongside her sister Mallowkit, Rootkit was rough, tumble, and pure trouble from the start. From yanking her sister’s fur to get to their mother’s belly to bullying the neighboring kits as soon as she could stumble around the nursery on wobbly legs, Rootkit’s antics kept her mother busy.
Skypetal tried to make proper ladies out of her daughters, but all of the grooming in the world couldn’t keep Rootkit’s fuzzy pelt under control. Her mouth was just as difficult to control - as soon as Rootkit could talk, she seemed to have an opinion on every nursery story and every rule.
Rootclaw remembers her father’s white muzzle poking into the nursery from time to time, and her mother shooing him away with an annoyed paw. The first time she and Mallowkit ventured outside the nursery, he was there to block them from exploring the rest of camp.
“What’s the big idea, smelly tom cat!” Rootkit hissed, desperately ramming her head into the large tom’s legs.
“My name’s Martenfoot - I’m your father!” He puffed out his chest proudly. “Your mother has surely told you about me, hasn’t she? Has she told you my favorite Starclan story? Once, a long time ago…”
From then on, it was difficult for the sisters to escape their father’s lengthy stories and lectures. But by their fourth or fifth moon, they had both mastered the art of evasion, being careful to roam outside the nursery when Martenfoot was out on patrol or asleep.
“Mama, did Starclan really send a flood to wipe out every cat on the island because they were being bad?” Mallowkit asked one night, eyes wide.
Skypetal purred, then spoke softly. “I don’t know, darling. Starclan is very powerful, but they also love us very much. For as long as you have Lichenclan blood running in your veins, they will keep you safe.”
Mallowkit always seemed satisfied with their mother’s reassuring responses to their father’s frightening sermons. But Rootkit always thought that if their mother and father were saying different things about Starclan, then one version had to be wrong. The fear that her father was right - that Starclan was a vindictive force watching her every pawstep - kept her in line. For now.
At three moons old, Rootkit and her sister got to leave camp for the first time. It’s an outing that Rootclaw doesn’t remember much today, but she’ll never forget the feeling of being submerged in the icy water of the Mooncave, feeling it fill and burn her lungs before she was brought up for air again. To this day, Rootclaw keeps a wary eye on the waves that lap against Lichenclan’s shore, terrified of experiencing that feeling again.
ROOTPAW: Ya Learn Somethin’ New Every Day
Skypetal watched nervously from the nursery as her daughters were made apprentices - Rootpaw and Mallowpaw. It meant that soon, she’d be returning to the warrior duties she dreaded so much.
Rootpaw was excited to have some freedom, but she wasn’t iinitially thrilled to be assigned to Roepelt, a small calico she-cat. For starters, her mother had always said she-cats were best at raising kits and helping out in the nursery. What could a she-cat teach her about fighting and hunting, then?
But the young apprentice was pleasantly surprised by her new mentor. Her size made her much faster than Rootpaw’s bulky frame could keep up with, challenging her to come up with ways to outsmart or outlast a faster opponent.
Roepelt wasn’t just a skilled fighter - she was also just an interesting cat to talk to. Rootpaw was so used to conversations dominated by Starclan’s love or wrath, and it was nice to talk about other things for a change.
“You know,” she’d say, as the pair cooled down from a sparring session. “When I was about your age, things weren’t so...strict.”
As time went on, Rootpaw learned more about life in Lichenclan before Minnowstar’s rule - and even some before Sagestar even. About other clans, clans who didn’t follow the same traditions they did (and still managed to get along just fine!). The more she learned about the world, the more wary Rootpaw became of her clan and their leadership.
Minnowstar, a cat that Rootpaw once admired, seemed to be falling into madness with each passing moon. It didn’t help that her father, mother, and even her sister followed her blindly.
For a brief time during her apprenticeship, her mother Skypetal was put back on her warrior duties. It was almost painful to watch her mother stumble through hunting patrols and spook at every rustling bush - conveniently, she became pregnant again and was back in the nursery only a moon into Rootpaw’s apprenticeship.
ROOTCLAW: All Bark, All Bite
Named for her ferocity in battle, Rootclaw became a warrior at 13 moons. Around the time she and her sister, now Mallowtail, were made warriors, their mother Skypetal gave birth to two more kits - Claykit and Dustkit - and happily returned to the nursery.
Only a few sunrises after her warrior ceremony, Roepelt's lifeless body was found far North, at the river that borders Lichenclan territory and the rogue territory. Rootclaw heard that another she-cat from Thistleclan was found in a similar condition in that same area only a quarter moon before. Roepelt was the only cat she had liked in this uptight clan, and now she was gone - if she ever came nose to nose with one of these cowardly rogues, she'd shred their fur off.
As eager as Rootclaw is to spill blood, she hasn’t actually experienced any of the fighting between Lichenclan and Redwoodclan herself yet. She's been trying to be on “good” behavior so that the stuffy old deputy will let her fight, not to mention attend gatherings again (we don’t talk about what happened at her last gathering...).
Neither Rootclaw nor her sister attended the gathering that was crashed by a mysterious tribe cat, but the news spread like wildfire around the camp. Both sisters were relieved not to be sent on the mission to find and kill the intruder in Redwoodclan’s camp, but for different reasons.
Mallowtail, a gentle heart, believed in Minnowstar and Starclan’s will, but just couldn’t bring herself to see another cat hurt, let alone killed. Rootclaw, on the other hand, was just curious - there was a whole clan of cats on the distant island this entire time? Perhaps they could have been valuable allies against Redwoodclan, but Minnowstar’s foolish leadership just had to get in the way.
In the evening, when other warriors are settling down to share tongues, Rootclaw will find herself sitting alone on the shore, thinking about the mysterious tribe cats, imagining their shadows dancing along the shore.
Of course, if she actually met one, she’d probably claw their ears off. But a she-cat can dream, can’t she?
