Post by Deleted on Dec 28, 2020 17:00:14 GMT -6
Coalpaw
Redwoodclan
Tortoiseshell she-cat with amber eyes
Apprentice
Female
8 moons
Appearance
Coalpaw was born as, and will forever remain, a runt; the apprentice’s petite stature is only exaggerated by the gargantuan proportions of her clanmates—her size is something that she’s kept painfully aware of on the daily. The she-cat’s diminutive height is leveled by her long form, she possesses a lithe huntress’ build which is reminiscent of her mother’s. She amasses strength in accordance with this physique; Coalpaw builds tough, wiry sinew on her legs and shoulders—muscles that are best used for slinking, sprinting, and scaling.
These muscles are well concealed beneath a short, silky, double-layered pelt—another inheritance from Terntail. A seamless conglomeration of her heritage, Coalpaw’s fur is a patchwork of her mother’s monochrome spots and Burnetclaw’s flaming hues; her pelt is the only aspect of the molly’s appearance that is typical of a Redwoodclanner—the only aspect of her appearance which allows her a sense of kinship with her peers.
Coalpaw’s visage is largely angular, she sports a short, sharp muzzle and pairs of both oversized eyes and ears. She is unconventionally beautiful—reminiscent of the dying embers of a roaring fire, moving like molten lava.
These muscles are well concealed beneath a short, silky, double-layered pelt—another inheritance from Terntail. A seamless conglomeration of her heritage, Coalpaw’s fur is a patchwork of her mother’s monochrome spots and Burnetclaw’s flaming hues; her pelt is the only aspect of the molly’s appearance that is typical of a Redwoodclanner—the only aspect of her appearance which allows her a sense of kinship with her peers.
Coalpaw’s visage is largely angular, she sports a short, sharp muzzle and pairs of both oversized eyes and ears. She is unconventionally beautiful—reminiscent of the dying embers of a roaring fire, moving like molten lava.
Personality
TRAITS
+ Spunky, tough, ambitious, loyal, nationalistic, cunning
- Vengeful, possessive, envious, prideful, violent
+ Spunky, tough, ambitious, loyal, nationalistic, cunning
- Vengeful, possessive, envious, prideful, violent
The majority of Coalpaw's personality traits stem from the overpowering strength with which she feels and processes emotion.
Like her mother, Coalpaw possesses a bleeding heart; however, unlike Terntail, she deals with these overwhelming emotions in a different way. Where her mother has become overly appreciative, mawkish, and self-conscious, Coalpaw is tough, vengeful, and violent.
Upon her entry into this cruel world, Coalpaw was faced with two options: either be strong and survive, or be weak and die—had she wavered even slightly in this decision, she would not be standing here today; this fact alone states volumes about her character. However, it was not just Coalpaw herself who fought long and hard for the continuation of her vitality; from the moment her hungry mouth first latched on to her mother's teat, Terntail was stoking a fire in Coalkit's soul—that is to say, the queen encouraged every speck of spunk and resilience she could glean from her daughter.
Coalpaw is loyal to a fault, she bears a nationalistic pride for her clan which comes only second to the all-consuming love that she feels for her mother; Terntail and Coalpaw are incredibly close—near inseparable—in fact, some may even dare to suggest that their relationship borders on codependency. As a result of the sheer strength of the pair's bond, Coalpaw is possessive to a fault, she would never dare speak ill of her mother, even within the privacy of her own mind, and will not tolerate anyone who would so much as consider doing so.
Bearing witness to her Terntail's mutilation brought forth a side of Coalpaw that, had the incident not occurred, may have remained forever a part of her subconscious. Unfortunately, the attack did occur, and Coalpaw was forced to adapt; traits that were inherited from her mother were twisted from their pure, original forms into purposes that served Coalpaw's vendetta. She's both vengeful and possess a tendency toward violence—due predominantly to a lack of the adequate social skills necessary to peacefully resolve conflict. In addition, she is also envious and cunning, willing to use whatever weapons she may possess in her artillery to obtain that which she desires.
Currently, all this fire, this raw ambition, is trained carefully on one particular end: killing Whitefern.
History
Father: Burnetclaw (deceased)
Mother: Terntail (dumpster)
Sibling(s): x2 stillborn
Coalpaw’s history is that of steadfastly loyal, but as of yet inconspicuous, Redwoodclan warriors. Her mother, a diminutive black and white molly named Terntail, had lost all her loved ones before she came of age, yet had still managed to make a name for herself as an asset to the clan through her notable hunting prowess. A few moons after she’d earned her warrior name, a charming tom named Burnetclaw took note of the young Terntail and launched a polite, yet incessant, courtship of the she-cat; it was no easy task, to penetrate the heart of a jaded molly, but Burnetclaw bore the challenge with grace.
As the tail end of leaf-bare was drawing near, Terntail found herself heavy with Burnetclaw’s kits, and with the cold sod of his freshly dug grave still clinging to her claws. Her mate had been slaughtered by a Lichenclan warrior in one of the border skirmishes that were beginning to occur with increasing frequency, and the molly was once again left alone—but not for long.
Terntail bore her brood into the world with the passionate zeal characteristic of new mothers, but, for her efforts, she reaped little reward; the molly’s only surviving child out of the three that left her womb, was a small, sickly runt who she lovingly named Coalkit.
With every breath, Coalkit fought for life, wrenching herself from death’s grip with every expansion of her little lungs—her existence was a constant defiance of lady luck’s obvious wishes for her demise. The sole cat whose faith in her survival never wavered was Terntail, and the molly cultivated in her daughter such fiery spunk that the little kit simply refused to die. As if in defiance of what had seemed a predestined fate, Coalkit began to thrive.
Before the mother-daughter duo had a chance to taste their sweet triumph over the cruel hand they’d been dealt, Lichenclan warriors flooded their camp; they were in search of a cat whose scent amongst the redwoods had already grown stale, but they seemed to hold no qualms with wreaking havoc amongst the clan’s base regardless. Holding true to the crazed-zealot reputation of their clan, a white, rumpled she-cat drew malevolently toward the nursery—intent to kill hanging as plainly in the air as her damp, fishy scent.
Muzzle wrenching itself into a snarl, Terntail shouldered herself between Coalkit and the molly, Whitefern, shoving the tortoiseshell scrap to the back of the nursery before advancing on the interloper. “Show your talons near my daughter, I dare you!” she shrieked headily, launching herself claws-first in an attack on the intruding warrior.
It was clear, from where Coalkit’s shivering form was hunched in the back of the den—her belly pressed to the cool dirt of the nursery floor—that her mother was no match for Whitefern. Bile rose, burning the kit’s throat as she watched the pair duke it out; Terntail was being trounced, you could hear her inevitable defeat in the rasping of her breaths, smell it in the blood that was welling from the plethora of scratches crisscrossing the black and white body, and see it glinting in Whitefern’s eyes.
Her mother had been yielding ground for the totality of the skirmish, but for a moment—one glimmering second—Coalkit had hoped Terntail would actually be able to escape the battle relatively unscathed. It was in that moment that Terntail faltered, a misstep throwing her off balance, and the Lichenclan she-cat’s greedy claws lashed out with brutal speed and force—straight for Terntail’s eyes.
Coalkit had whimpered—the only sound she could muster from her heaving chest—as she watched her mother’s head jerk violently with the blow, her screams of pain renting through both the camp and her daughter’s heart.
Terntail fell, and another queen, a grey molly named Drizzlepelt, stepped up to replace her. The she-cat had only taken a few of Whitefern’s brutal blows before the air was set atremble with a terrible, ear-splitting roar; one of Redwoodclan’s most senior warriors, a hulking, color-point tom named Beavergaze, fell upon the Lichenclan she-cat with a savagery the likes of which Coalkit had never before seen. It was a matter of mere moments before he’d sent Whitefern packing, an almost frightening show of strength and technique exhibited in the attack. For a brief second, before leaping to the aid of other clanmates, his icy blue stare came to rest inside the nursery, filling Coalkit’s body with crackling electricity—in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to possess the raw power she could sense coursing through his veins.
“I’ll be fine, it’ll get better!” Terntail insisted to Coalkit; the she-kit didn’t have the heart to tell her mother, as she stared into the poultices that barely concealed the molly’s coagulating eye sockets, the truth: that it wasn’t going to get any better, not ever. Though Coalkit cherished the few remaining moons they spent together in the nursery, her heart had begun to churn, a newly kindled rage burning a hole in her gut.
The night before her apprentice ceremony, Coalkit had laid next to her mother, the pair curled together in their small, shared nest, and Terntail had groomed methodically through her daughter’s fur. “You’re the ember that keeps me going, my little Coalkit… I love how brightly you burn,” the black and white molly had whispered, “I know you’re going to make me proud—you already do.” Between gentle rasps of her tongue, Terntail continued, “You’re tough and you’re strong—there’s nothing that you can’t overcome.”
It was that night, with Starclan to bear witness, that Coalkit had vowed to kill Whitefern.
The following day should have been the proudest of Coalpaw’s life; she received both her -paw suffix and the mighty Beavergaze as a mentor, she’d even been able to pick out Terntail’s indefatigable voice raised among the clan’s, chanting “Coalpaw! Coalpaw! Coalpaw!” However, in the dark recesses of the night after her ceremony, she had also heard her mother’s quiet, shuddering sobs, and Coalpaw’s hardened heart had cracked.
While her clanmates slept, Coalpaw had laid in her nest and burned—the fire that had been kindling within her since birth had turned her molten and volatile at the core.
WORD TOTAL: 1,609
Mother: Terntail (dumpster)
Sibling(s): x2 stillborn
Coalpaw’s history is that of steadfastly loyal, but as of yet inconspicuous, Redwoodclan warriors. Her mother, a diminutive black and white molly named Terntail, had lost all her loved ones before she came of age, yet had still managed to make a name for herself as an asset to the clan through her notable hunting prowess. A few moons after she’d earned her warrior name, a charming tom named Burnetclaw took note of the young Terntail and launched a polite, yet incessant, courtship of the she-cat; it was no easy task, to penetrate the heart of a jaded molly, but Burnetclaw bore the challenge with grace.
As the tail end of leaf-bare was drawing near, Terntail found herself heavy with Burnetclaw’s kits, and with the cold sod of his freshly dug grave still clinging to her claws. Her mate had been slaughtered by a Lichenclan warrior in one of the border skirmishes that were beginning to occur with increasing frequency, and the molly was once again left alone—but not for long.
Terntail bore her brood into the world with the passionate zeal characteristic of new mothers, but, for her efforts, she reaped little reward; the molly’s only surviving child out of the three that left her womb, was a small, sickly runt who she lovingly named Coalkit.
With every breath, Coalkit fought for life, wrenching herself from death’s grip with every expansion of her little lungs—her existence was a constant defiance of lady luck’s obvious wishes for her demise. The sole cat whose faith in her survival never wavered was Terntail, and the molly cultivated in her daughter such fiery spunk that the little kit simply refused to die. As if in defiance of what had seemed a predestined fate, Coalkit began to thrive.
Before the mother-daughter duo had a chance to taste their sweet triumph over the cruel hand they’d been dealt, Lichenclan warriors flooded their camp; they were in search of a cat whose scent amongst the redwoods had already grown stale, but they seemed to hold no qualms with wreaking havoc amongst the clan’s base regardless. Holding true to the crazed-zealot reputation of their clan, a white, rumpled she-cat drew malevolently toward the nursery—intent to kill hanging as plainly in the air as her damp, fishy scent.
Muzzle wrenching itself into a snarl, Terntail shouldered herself between Coalkit and the molly, Whitefern, shoving the tortoiseshell scrap to the back of the nursery before advancing on the interloper. “Show your talons near my daughter, I dare you!” she shrieked headily, launching herself claws-first in an attack on the intruding warrior.
It was clear, from where Coalkit’s shivering form was hunched in the back of the den—her belly pressed to the cool dirt of the nursery floor—that her mother was no match for Whitefern. Bile rose, burning the kit’s throat as she watched the pair duke it out; Terntail was being trounced, you could hear her inevitable defeat in the rasping of her breaths, smell it in the blood that was welling from the plethora of scratches crisscrossing the black and white body, and see it glinting in Whitefern’s eyes.
Her mother had been yielding ground for the totality of the skirmish, but for a moment—one glimmering second—Coalkit had hoped Terntail would actually be able to escape the battle relatively unscathed. It was in that moment that Terntail faltered, a misstep throwing her off balance, and the Lichenclan she-cat’s greedy claws lashed out with brutal speed and force—straight for Terntail’s eyes.
Coalkit had whimpered—the only sound she could muster from her heaving chest—as she watched her mother’s head jerk violently with the blow, her screams of pain renting through both the camp and her daughter’s heart.
Terntail fell, and another queen, a grey molly named Drizzlepelt, stepped up to replace her. The she-cat had only taken a few of Whitefern’s brutal blows before the air was set atremble with a terrible, ear-splitting roar; one of Redwoodclan’s most senior warriors, a hulking, color-point tom named Beavergaze, fell upon the Lichenclan she-cat with a savagery the likes of which Coalkit had never before seen. It was a matter of mere moments before he’d sent Whitefern packing, an almost frightening show of strength and technique exhibited in the attack. For a brief second, before leaping to the aid of other clanmates, his icy blue stare came to rest inside the nursery, filling Coalkit’s body with crackling electricity—in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to possess the raw power she could sense coursing through his veins.
“I’ll be fine, it’ll get better!” Terntail insisted to Coalkit; the she-kit didn’t have the heart to tell her mother, as she stared into the poultices that barely concealed the molly’s coagulating eye sockets, the truth: that it wasn’t going to get any better, not ever. Though Coalkit cherished the few remaining moons they spent together in the nursery, her heart had begun to churn, a newly kindled rage burning a hole in her gut.
The night before her apprentice ceremony, Coalkit had laid next to her mother, the pair curled together in their small, shared nest, and Terntail had groomed methodically through her daughter’s fur. “You’re the ember that keeps me going, my little Coalkit… I love how brightly you burn,” the black and white molly had whispered, “I know you’re going to make me proud—you already do.” Between gentle rasps of her tongue, Terntail continued, “You’re tough and you’re strong—there’s nothing that you can’t overcome.”
It was that night, with Starclan to bear witness, that Coalkit had vowed to kill Whitefern.
The following day should have been the proudest of Coalpaw’s life; she received both her -paw suffix and the mighty Beavergaze as a mentor, she’d even been able to pick out Terntail’s indefatigable voice raised among the clan’s, chanting “Coalpaw! Coalpaw! Coalpaw!” However, in the dark recesses of the night after her ceremony, she had also heard her mother’s quiet, shuddering sobs, and Coalpaw’s hardened heart had cracked.
While her clanmates slept, Coalpaw had laid in her nest and burned—the fire that had been kindling within her since birth had turned her molten and volatile at the core.
WORD TOTAL: 1,609