Post by immortes on Apr 1, 2021 18:48:11 GMT -6
SALTWHISKER
LICHENCLAN
siamese point oriental with sharp blue eyes
warrior
male
44m | 3yr 8mn
Appearance
Saltwhisker is, at first glance, a rather shrewd and unpleasant cat, just like the sting of the ocean salt as it burns your throat, though not physically imposing. His half-lidded expression and rather aloof and judgemental airs make him seem like he has a serious superiority complex. The siamese oriental is rather slender - bony and angular, with sharp features. His pelt his hard and coarse, seemingly made of rock instead of soft fur, which suits him fine because there is nothing soft about this cat. Saltwhisker carries himself with pride and strength as most warriors do, speaking of his pride to be a servant of Starclan and a fighter on Lichenclan's front lines. His pelt is laced with scars, some so deep that there is no way that his thin fur can hide them. He wears them with pride, believing that each scar is a sign of his resolution and resolve. Like most of the Lichenclan cats, his leg and flank muscles are lean and well-built, good for swimming and navigating the watery tunnels around Lichenclan territory.
Saltwhisker's pelt is for the most part a pale cream color that reflects the sun's glow with a luster, but the cream is only a base, because there are many things etched into him. A story, almost. His legs have pale brands of tan, his face covered with a silver mask, and his tall only slightly dusted with dark grey. Despite being a siamese, a large tabby M of dark grey dips down from his forehead and comes to rest between his eyes. The pale cream palette that composes so much of his body fades to the white of his crystalline namesake around his chin.
His face is narrow, bony, and shaped almost an inverted pear. Such is the case for most oriental cats. While Saltwhisker's forehead is relatively wide, it steeply curves inward for a rather pronounced muzzle.
Saltwhisker's pelt is for the most part a pale cream color that reflects the sun's glow with a luster, but the cream is only a base, because there are many things etched into him. A story, almost. His legs have pale brands of tan, his face covered with a silver mask, and his tall only slightly dusted with dark grey. Despite being a siamese, a large tabby M of dark grey dips down from his forehead and comes to rest between his eyes. The pale cream palette that composes so much of his body fades to the white of his crystalline namesake around his chin.
His face is narrow, bony, and shaped almost an inverted pear. Such is the case for most oriental cats. While Saltwhisker's forehead is relatively wide, it steeply curves inward for a rather pronounced muzzle.
Personality
JUDGMENTAL & CRITICAL
Saltwhisker is hard to please, that's for sure. Like the rough churning waves of the ocean that batter and chafe your body, his attitude is most decidedly rough and consistently unsatisfied. He sees more worth in actions than in words, so don't waste your breath. Due to his high standard in training, he is more likely to give you a shake of the head rather than a satisfied smile. Taking this into consideration, praise is rare, and even if you do your job, the only thing you've achieved is staving off his contempt. Some cats say that he takes things too seriously, but it would be hard to rid this tom of his deep pride in his heritage. This isn't to say he's boorish — Saltwhisker does have tact and mannerisms — but it should be noted that he doesn't like to hold back. This is especially obvious in how he sees gender as a defining characteristic for the cats of Lichenclan.
CRUEL & RELENTLESS
Saltwhisker is as coarse as his namesake, and he is someone whom you should have a large amount of self-esteem before engaging in conversation. He will jump over the slightest mistake, and make you regret it. This cat's bite is as bad as his bark, especially in battle. The oriental has little qualms about dealing out grievous injuries to his opponents. Not only that, but he doesn't let up in his attack until the other cat has given out on their own or until they're simply unable to continue fighting. He has a relentless determined streak, not resting until he has completed his objective. Perhaps Saltwhisker is a bit too patriotic, to the point of a poisonous prejudice in his regard for the other clans. He sees Redwoodclan as a group of hedonistic heathens and Thistleclan as a clan of barbarous, lawless rogues.
DEVOUT & SANCTIMONIOUS
Saltwhisker is a servant of Starclan, and this isn't always something he needs to say out loud. You can see it in him. He takes great pride in having been born in lichenclan, whom he has deemed the hallowed servants of starclan themselves. This belief is something that has been ingrained in him even in his kithood, and then even more so in his apprentice-hood under his strict, staunch starclan-loving mentor. He prays often in solitude, beseeching starclan for answers and for their support. Whenever he makes a successful kill, he will thank Starclan. This does come off as sanctimonious or unnecessarily pious to some other cats who may not see Starclan as the omnipotent guardians that they are. His sanctimonious ways does have its negative aspects. Namely, the other clans who are nothing more than filthy heathens (and less than) should either repent for their ways or be buried in the ground as punishment for their irreverent ways.
ENVIOUS & SKEPTICAL
It's a grudge that Saltwhisker has held since kithood. Namely, a grudge against the Heron bloodline. Long story short, it's a double pronged sword. For one, Saltwhisker's traditional ideals dictate that only the males in any bloodline should be the ones to lead the clan, while mollies are usually better off in the clan nursery rearing the next generation of Lichenclan warriors. So how is it that Minnowstar, the last living Heron-blooded-cat, should be the one leading the clan. The oriental doesn't believe it for a minute. And even in kithood, he was poisoned by an insidious envy for the holistic heron cats, the holy, rightful governers of the island and proud monarchs of their starclan ancestors. It just wasn't right. As wonderful as they were, Saltwhisker became jealous that that blood wasn't his blood, and that he couldn't do anything to change it. Leadership of the clan should be earned, not handed out like party favors in a monarchy.
STALWART & RESOLUTE
Like how the cliffsides near the edge of Lichenclan territory endure the freezing assault of both wind and rain, Saltwhisker is not a cat who will bend easily. His trust is hard to earn — he's learned over the years that there are no true friends in the political environment of Lichenclan — but maybe if you do manage to get on his good side, you've got a loyal ally. He understands the meaning of loyalty well, and stands tall for those that mean something to him. The names of those cats...it's a short list. He may not be happy with the status of Lichenclan right now, but he's willing to endure it and do his service to his leader.
SUBMISSIVE & DISCIPLINED
This may not be something you expect of Saltwhisker, given how battle-hungry and ferocious the tom can become when heated, but he is not one to openly challenge figures of authority. He will carry out orders to the best of his abilities, strive to do even better, but it is not his place nor his role to try to overthrow those in power. It's also not in his nature. He does not follow with a blind loyalty, but a true belief in the strength of Lichenclan.
STALWART & RESOLUTE
Like how the cliffsides near the edge of Lichenclan territory endure the freezing assault of both wind and rain, Saltwhisker is not a cat who will bend easily. His trust is hard to earn — he's learned over the years that there are no true friends in the political environment of Lichenclan — but maybe if you do manage to get on his good side, you've got a loyal ally. He understands the meaning of loyalty well, and stands tall for those that mean something to him. The names of those cats...it's a short list. He may not be happy with the status of Lichenclan right now, but he's willing to endure it and do his service to his leader.
SUBMISSIVE & DISCIPLINED
This may not be something you expect of Saltwhisker, given how battle-hungry and ferocious the tom can become when heated, but he is not one to openly challenge figures of authority. He will carry out orders to the best of his abilities, strive to do even better, but it is not his place nor his role to try to overthrow those in power. It's also not in his nature. He does not follow with a blind loyalty, but a true belief in the strength of Lichenclan.
History
KITHOOD
Saltkit was born in a close-knit litter to a single mother and one sister, Violetkit. Their names defined them, because while his sister was delicate and gentle, he was a coarse and squalling kit from birth. This apparently appealed him to his father, who gave him his name and favored him a warrior. He only knew the coddled comforts and warm airs of his mother, because his father didn't visit them again after giving vague words of praise to his son. The kits were produced out of dutiful service to Starclan in a loveless union. The older the two became, the more they grew apart. Violetkit was as fresh as a daisy, as sweet as honeysuckle, and as delicate as a flower petal, but Saltkit was none of those things - growing into his name as a coarse and strong-willed kit. One might argue that it was destiny that tore them apart; his sister was destined to stay in the nursery while he was destined for the battlefield.
Among the many stories heaped on the kits during their time in the nursery, the words of Starclan and their mother's "friend" Molefur, and those with Heron blood, were among the most common. His sister, in her usual prim and delicate ways, was filled with awe and wonder - and him too. How grand and proud they seemed. How glorious! 'Behave as Sagestar and Molefur will, Saltkit, and always thank Starclan. Do that, and I believe you'll make a fine warrior indeed.' said Mallowfur warmly. But with the acclamations that came so naturally to the name came a venomous jealousy that bitterly curdled the young kit's heart. Why wasn't he of Heron blood? What made them so grand and beautiful while he was stuck down here, a mere servant? No longer was the kit blinded by blinding adoration, but he was consumed by an ambition. When he was an apprentice, he'd be finer so than any Heron descendent. He'd show them.
APPRENTICESHIP
By the time Saltkit reached his sixth moon, he and his sister had grown even more distant, to the point where they could've been from different litters. Almost unconsciously, they stepped into their roles in the future. Newly dubbed Saltpaw was assigned a brutish and no-nonsense mentor named Kestrelstrike. The molly's iron fist and harsh training methods further drove in the fact that the life awaiting him would be dreary and harsh. Saltpaw did not find it in himself to question her judgement, instead choosing to work himself the bone. Kestrelstrike had a way of making her displeasure known, and her bite was as bad as her bark. Violetpaw proved to be average in training; she didn't slack off, but she did not aim for the exceeding marks that Saltpaw received. It seemed that her dreams lay elsewhere, perhaps back in the sweet halcyon environment of the nursery. Nevertheless, the assessments of the two came on time on their twelfth moon, and they were thus dubbed Violetshade and Saltwhisker respectively. They bathed in the holy water, confessed to Starclan of their sins, and sat vigil
WARRIOR
Saltwhisker had expected his warriorship to be somewhat filled by dull yet dutiful service under the stars, but he was proven wrong in two ways. Barely a week later, Molefur expired; his limp, waterlogged body discovered near the cliffside. The cause of his death was unknown, although by looking at him, the warrior could've sworn that he drowned. Or he fell. The deputy was solemnly laid to rest, and by moonhigh, it came time for his successor to be selected. And who should it be, but his cousin Minnowleap? The last of the Heron line, it's golden girl? Saltwhisker's teeth bared and his tail lashed. Up until now, he was hidden away from the nepotistically corrupt way that privilege corrupted the upper ranks of the clan. There were plenty of candidatesnot including himself that could have served as a fine deputy, but apparently the only ones that deserve to be on top are the heron-blooded. It made him feel sick and drove in his envy a little more.
Life moved on after that, and Saltwhisker's dour demeanor was somewhat assuaged by the assignment of an apprentice of his own. Shiverkit, the secondborn son of Cricketwind and Pebblestride. Hoping to put his loathing of recent events aside, Saltwhisker asserted himself over his charge as a strong teacher. However, just from the start, it seemed as if he had been set up to fail. Not only was the young tom consistently absent from classes, forcing Saltwhisker to waste time looking for the apprentice, he seemed to be mentally absent. His efforts were half-hearted and hapless, much as Saltwhisker tried to make him otherwise. The oriental could tell that Minnowstar had selected for Saltwhisker for a mentor because she believed it would be good for Shiverpaw to have a strong foundation, but it seemed that their training trajectory was getting worse by the day. The warrior had little time for much else, so caught up was he into whipping Shiverpaw into shape. The tom graduated on time for his twelfth moon, but proceeded to denounce his warrior name and was subsequently banished from Lichenclan. All of the warrior's hard work erased in just a few moments, utterly wasted. Not even the tom's own brother could persuade him otherwise. Consumed by frustration and fury, Saltwhisker didn't even hesitate when the leader assigned him to a patrol assigned with dispatching Shiverpaw. The two tousled cats' fight was fast and bloody, with Saltwhisker raining cruel, hard blows on his former apprentice's body. The younger tom nearly died that very moment thanks to a vicious lash down his spine had he not squirmed away by a hairs' worth of luck. The oriental hasn't seen his apprentice again after that day, and frankly doesn't care where he has ended up. He could be dead for all he cares.
Life offered him a slower pace, and perhaps a bit of a distraction when his sister revealed that she was expecting kits. Saltwhisker had not interacted with his sister's mate — he didn't even know who the tom was — but he offered a meager amount of congratulations when he saw that she had borne him one niece and one nephew. Frankly, Saltwhisker took better to Violetshade's son than his daughter, seeing as the only thing that befitted mollies in this clan was kit-rearing in the nursery, but it seemed that it would be the complete opposite. His niece, though she was supposed to be gentle and delicate like her mother, dreamed of feeling the wind through her fur and locking her body in battle. His nephew only wanted his uncle's approval, which was hard enough to get on its own. The warrior observed from a distance as they grew into apprentices, taking opportunities to nudge them in the right direction. He finds it ironic that the gender dynamics are rather switched in the two.
Tragedy came into Saltwhisker's life around his fortieth moon when his mother Mallowfur passed away after contracting a fatal bout of greencough that ravaged Lichenclan in that time. His sister and him had very different responses. The warrior mourned his mother, digging her grave himself before her body cooled. Saltwhisker was surprised, though not greatly so, to find out how calloused he had become. It was her own fault, he decided. Had she prayed more to Starclan, had she been more faithful, she might have lived.
The tom had become hardened from his youthful years, and so when Minnowstar announced that Lichenclan was to go to war with Redwoodclan in order to cleanse the island, Saltwhisker volunteered without question. He has become averse to weakness in all forms, be it mental, physical or emotional, and the presence of sinners on the island should not be tolerated. Only the pure presence of Starclan's chosen.
Saltkit was born in a close-knit litter to a single mother and one sister, Violetkit. Their names defined them, because while his sister was delicate and gentle, he was a coarse and squalling kit from birth. This apparently appealed him to his father, who gave him his name and favored him a warrior. He only knew the coddled comforts and warm airs of his mother, because his father didn't visit them again after giving vague words of praise to his son. The kits were produced out of dutiful service to Starclan in a loveless union. The older the two became, the more they grew apart. Violetkit was as fresh as a daisy, as sweet as honeysuckle, and as delicate as a flower petal, but Saltkit was none of those things - growing into his name as a coarse and strong-willed kit. One might argue that it was destiny that tore them apart; his sister was destined to stay in the nursery while he was destined for the battlefield.
Among the many stories heaped on the kits during their time in the nursery, the words of Starclan and their mother's "friend" Molefur, and those with Heron blood, were among the most common. His sister, in her usual prim and delicate ways, was filled with awe and wonder - and him too. How grand and proud they seemed. How glorious! 'Behave as Sagestar and Molefur will, Saltkit, and always thank Starclan. Do that, and I believe you'll make a fine warrior indeed.' said Mallowfur warmly. But with the acclamations that came so naturally to the name came a venomous jealousy that bitterly curdled the young kit's heart. Why wasn't he of Heron blood? What made them so grand and beautiful while he was stuck down here, a mere servant? No longer was the kit blinded by blinding adoration, but he was consumed by an ambition. When he was an apprentice, he'd be finer so than any Heron descendent. He'd show them.
APPRENTICESHIP
By the time Saltkit reached his sixth moon, he and his sister had grown even more distant, to the point where they could've been from different litters. Almost unconsciously, they stepped into their roles in the future. Newly dubbed Saltpaw was assigned a brutish and no-nonsense mentor named Kestrelstrike. The molly's iron fist and harsh training methods further drove in the fact that the life awaiting him would be dreary and harsh. Saltpaw did not find it in himself to question her judgement, instead choosing to work himself the bone. Kestrelstrike had a way of making her displeasure known, and her bite was as bad as her bark. Violetpaw proved to be average in training; she didn't slack off, but she did not aim for the exceeding marks that Saltpaw received. It seemed that her dreams lay elsewhere, perhaps back in the sweet halcyon environment of the nursery. Nevertheless, the assessments of the two came on time on their twelfth moon, and they were thus dubbed Violetshade and Saltwhisker respectively. They bathed in the holy water, confessed to Starclan of their sins, and sat vigil
WARRIOR
Saltwhisker had expected his warriorship to be somewhat filled by dull yet dutiful service under the stars, but he was proven wrong in two ways. Barely a week later, Molefur expired; his limp, waterlogged body discovered near the cliffside. The cause of his death was unknown, although by looking at him, the warrior could've sworn that he drowned. Or he fell. The deputy was solemnly laid to rest, and by moonhigh, it came time for his successor to be selected. And who should it be, but his cousin Minnowleap? The last of the Heron line, it's golden girl? Saltwhisker's teeth bared and his tail lashed. Up until now, he was hidden away from the nepotistically corrupt way that privilege corrupted the upper ranks of the clan. There were plenty of candidates
Life moved on after that, and Saltwhisker's dour demeanor was somewhat assuaged by the assignment of an apprentice of his own. Shiverkit, the secondborn son of Cricketwind and Pebblestride. Hoping to put his loathing of recent events aside, Saltwhisker asserted himself over his charge as a strong teacher. However, just from the start, it seemed as if he had been set up to fail. Not only was the young tom consistently absent from classes, forcing Saltwhisker to waste time looking for the apprentice, he seemed to be mentally absent. His efforts were half-hearted and hapless, much as Saltwhisker tried to make him otherwise. The oriental could tell that Minnowstar had selected for Saltwhisker for a mentor because she believed it would be good for Shiverpaw to have a strong foundation, but it seemed that their training trajectory was getting worse by the day. The warrior had little time for much else, so caught up was he into whipping Shiverpaw into shape. The tom graduated on time for his twelfth moon, but proceeded to denounce his warrior name and was subsequently banished from Lichenclan. All of the warrior's hard work erased in just a few moments, utterly wasted. Not even the tom's own brother could persuade him otherwise. Consumed by frustration and fury, Saltwhisker didn't even hesitate when the leader assigned him to a patrol assigned with dispatching Shiverpaw. The two tousled cats' fight was fast and bloody, with Saltwhisker raining cruel, hard blows on his former apprentice's body. The younger tom nearly died that very moment thanks to a vicious lash down his spine had he not squirmed away by a hairs' worth of luck. The oriental hasn't seen his apprentice again after that day, and frankly doesn't care where he has ended up. He could be dead for all he cares.
Life offered him a slower pace, and perhaps a bit of a distraction when his sister revealed that she was expecting kits. Saltwhisker had not interacted with his sister's mate — he didn't even know who the tom was — but he offered a meager amount of congratulations when he saw that she had borne him one niece and one nephew. Frankly, Saltwhisker took better to Violetshade's son than his daughter, seeing as the only thing that befitted mollies in this clan was kit-rearing in the nursery, but it seemed that it would be the complete opposite. His niece, though she was supposed to be gentle and delicate like her mother, dreamed of feeling the wind through her fur and locking her body in battle. His nephew only wanted his uncle's approval, which was hard enough to get on its own. The warrior observed from a distance as they grew into apprentices, taking opportunities to nudge them in the right direction. He finds it ironic that the gender dynamics are rather switched in the two.
Tragedy came into Saltwhisker's life around his fortieth moon when his mother Mallowfur passed away after contracting a fatal bout of greencough that ravaged Lichenclan in that time. His sister and him had very different responses. The warrior mourned his mother, digging her grave himself before her body cooled. Saltwhisker was surprised, though not greatly so, to find out how calloused he had become. It was her own fault, he decided. Had she prayed more to Starclan, had she been more faithful, she might have lived.
The tom had become hardened from his youthful years, and so when Minnowstar announced that Lichenclan was to go to war with Redwoodclan in order to cleanse the island, Saltwhisker volunteered without question. He has become averse to weakness in all forms, be it mental, physical or emotional, and the presence of sinners on the island should not be tolerated. Only the pure presence of Starclan's chosen.
