Post by latitha on May 25, 2021 17:46:02 GMT -6
MOLEFLAME
REDWOODCLAN
BLACK SMOKE TABBY TOM WITH AMBER EYES
senior warrior
male
96 moons
Appearance ; and the pastor says i'm good
Moleflame is nothing remarkable in terms of size and build. His body isn't as big and burly as the traditional Redwoodclan cat, in fact he's a bit on the short side, but he's still thick and rounded. There's a quiet strength in his stature, a power one wouldn't expect just by looking at him. His legs are solid and well-built, thickset like the rest of him. He isn't a berserker in a fight, but he can definitely land solid blows, especially against any Lichenclanner he's up against.
Given his holy personality, he has the gait to match, though slightly subdued with the tiredness that age brings. His head hangs slightly low, but his steps are long and purposeful, even when he doesn't seem to have much of a destination.
His pelt is short but dense, lacking in an undercoat, which gives it a look that many would describe as 'crisp.' The whole of his fur is varying shades of black, faint tabby stripes showing through in some places, particularly in the lighter area around his eyes. They're prominent on his broad chest and neck, as well. He doesn't take much care in his appearance, so it isn't unusual for his fur to stick out at odd angles, or look generally unwashed.
The features of his face are quite distinctive. His head itself is large, round just like the rest of his body, and his cheeks are prominent, especially the lower parts. His muzzle, set in the middle of his face, is short and wide, the nose just as dark as the rest of him. He has large eyes, ones that are almost owl-like in appearance, eerie in their amber appearance, almost a coppery orange.
Nasally and gravelly in nature, his voice isn't the most pleasant thing to grace one's ears. He has a habit of talking loudly, another quality that is quick to get on other cats' nerves, but he doesn't show any signs of stopping soon, no matter how many times he's told to quiet down.
Given his holy personality, he has the gait to match, though slightly subdued with the tiredness that age brings. His head hangs slightly low, but his steps are long and purposeful, even when he doesn't seem to have much of a destination.
His pelt is short but dense, lacking in an undercoat, which gives it a look that many would describe as 'crisp.' The whole of his fur is varying shades of black, faint tabby stripes showing through in some places, particularly in the lighter area around his eyes. They're prominent on his broad chest and neck, as well. He doesn't take much care in his appearance, so it isn't unusual for his fur to stick out at odd angles, or look generally unwashed.
The features of his face are quite distinctive. His head itself is large, round just like the rest of his body, and his cheeks are prominent, especially the lower parts. His muzzle, set in the middle of his face, is short and wide, the nose just as dark as the rest of him. He has large eyes, ones that are almost owl-like in appearance, eerie in their amber appearance, almost a coppery orange.
Nasally and gravelly in nature, his voice isn't the most pleasant thing to grace one's ears. He has a habit of talking loudly, another quality that is quick to get on other cats' nerves, but he doesn't show any signs of stopping soon, no matter how many times he's told to quiet down.
Personality ; But Jesus Christ I'm never good
+ Passionate, loyal, candid, dignified, strong-willed
- Temperamental, self-centered, assertive, inconsiderate, spiteful
He's notorious in Redwoodclan for his outspoken nature, especially when it comes to his beliefs. He's very passionate, not only in worshiping Starclan, but in pretty much everything he does. When he sets his mind to something, he dedicates his energy and time to it. His passion can become a little too much, though, as he has a tendency to shove his beliefs and practices in other people's faces. His favorite pastime is, of course, preaching to other cats about the power and importance of worshiping their ancestors.
Thanks to his mother's treatment, he grew up to be quite the narcissist, even convincing himself that he was a gift from Starclan. He often mistakes things for visions they send him, something as simple as a leaf falling from a tree and floating on a puddle could be an omen to the tom. He cares dearly for his clan, but when it comes to being thoughtful or kind to his clan-mates, he finds it hard to get along with them. Those younger than him are too energetic and fluff-headed, and there aren't that many warriors close to his age left after Lichenclan attacks and the rough seasons they've endured. In short, he's too caught up in his own head to come back down to earth and try to make friends.
Another trait that stops him from making positive relationships is how unstable his moods seem to be. Usually he's prickly and liable to get angry over the smallest thing, but there are also times when he's quiet and calm, or cheerful and sociable. It seems as if his disposition depends on a simple coin flip, changing from one to another at any given moment. This unreliable nature makes
Moleflame is an honest, dignified warrior, if nothing else positive can be said about him. He speaks sincerely (sometimes to the point of being outright rude), keeps his promises, and despises using dirty tricks to get his way. If following Starclan's morals has taught him anything, it's to respect other cats. Respect and kindness, however, have nothing to do with each other when it comes to this old coot.
- Temperamental, self-centered, assertive, inconsiderate, spiteful
He's notorious in Redwoodclan for his outspoken nature, especially when it comes to his beliefs. He's very passionate, not only in worshiping Starclan, but in pretty much everything he does. When he sets his mind to something, he dedicates his energy and time to it. His passion can become a little too much, though, as he has a tendency to shove his beliefs and practices in other people's faces. His favorite pastime is, of course, preaching to other cats about the power and importance of worshiping their ancestors.
Thanks to his mother's treatment, he grew up to be quite the narcissist, even convincing himself that he was a gift from Starclan. He often mistakes things for visions they send him, something as simple as a leaf falling from a tree and floating on a puddle could be an omen to the tom. He cares dearly for his clan, but when it comes to being thoughtful or kind to his clan-mates, he finds it hard to get along with them. Those younger than him are too energetic and fluff-headed, and there aren't that many warriors close to his age left after Lichenclan attacks and the rough seasons they've endured. In short, he's too caught up in his own head to come back down to earth and try to make friends.
Another trait that stops him from making positive relationships is how unstable his moods seem to be. Usually he's prickly and liable to get angry over the smallest thing, but there are also times when he's quiet and calm, or cheerful and sociable. It seems as if his disposition depends on a simple coin flip, changing from one to another at any given moment. This unreliable nature makes
Moleflame is an honest, dignified warrior, if nothing else positive can be said about him. He speaks sincerely (sometimes to the point of being outright rude), keeps his promises, and despises using dirty tricks to get his way. If following Starclan's morals has taught him anything, it's to respect other cats. Respect and kindness, however, have nothing to do with each other when it comes to this old coot.
History ; I'll nail my hands up to the wall
MOTHER; Willowbreeze (deceased)
FATHER; Unknown Redwoodclan tom
FOSTER MOTHER; Orchidfoot (deceased)
FOSTER FATHER; Gullpelt (deceased)
FOSTER BROTHERS; Rookjump (deceased) & Asterstrike
FOSTER SISTER; Wisteriaheart (deceased)
NIECE; Iristhroat (@ owl)
GRAND-NEPHEW; Alder-root (rain )
GRAND-NIECES; Indigomist (owl ) & Wisteriawhisper (Silverfire )
GREAT GRAND-NIECES; Foxkit & Shiverkit
MENTOR; Yellowheart (deceased)
It was no secret that Willowbreeze got around, with both toms and she-cats. That said, it was uncertain who the father was when she showed signs of being pregnant, her belly gradually expanding as days passed. She was obviously unprepared to be a mother, a fact she made known to the other queens. Watching their kittens squirm and suckle noisily, Willowbreeze would get a look on her face, one that was similar to a cat smelling a rotten piece of crowfood.
The other queens were prepared to take in her kits once they were born, since it was clear she had no intentions of raising them.
Whether she planned to or not, Willowbreeze wouldn’t have been able to care for her kits, as the birth resulted in her death shortly after. The two kits were born sickly in the midst of the cold season and only one of them would live to see it’s end, a kit who would come by the name Molekit.
He was born a scrawny thing, but with time and nutrients, he grew to be the average size of a kitten. Taken in by Orchidfoot, he was raised alongside his three foster siblings, Asterkit, Wisteriakit, and Rook-kit. From the moment he had the mind to want, he always had to be the center of attention. Both him and his siblings came into it naturally, thanks to their mother doting on them and always telling them that they were better than the other kits, that they deserved the best.
His foster father, on the other hand, was harder to impress. Where Orchidfoot’s love was unconditional and almost overbearing, Gullpelt’s love depended on how well his kits did, or how smart they were. It became a competition to earn his love.
When Molekit and his siblings became apprentices, they kept going head-to-head. Asterpaw clawed his way to the top as he worked hard in training, showing exceptional skill in fighting, much to their father’s pleasure. Orchidfoot falls ill and, after continuing to get even worse, passes away. The sudden death leaves his siblings racked with grief, but most of all, they start to lag behind in their training. Molepaw takes the opportunity to get ahead.
Due to how prickly and temperamental he is, he goes through apprentice hood without many friends. His mentor Yellowheart is considered an odd cat within the clan, due to his constant preaching about Starclan and how powerful they are, but Molepaw looks up to him. He’s a stern mentor, too, using corporal punishment to keep the apprentice in line. He drills into him the fear of the stars, warning him never to cross them, unless he wanted to suffer their wrath.
It isn’t long until he starts to pick up his religious ramblings, praising Starclan to whoever tolerated him enough to listen. He did as Yellowheart told him to, following every rule of the warrior code and praying to the stars every night before sleep and every morning after waking up, to the point he convinced himself that he saw signs from Starclan themselves.
Even though he was already half-way through his training, he dreamed of becoming a medicine cat one day, if only to have a closer connection to their ancestors. He couldn’t care less about herbs or healing, he simply wanted the dreams sent by Starclan themselves, the privilege to speak to them directly. Even today, he’s adamant that he should have become medicine cat, instead of the spineless Oatwhisker and his sister Orchidshade, the ‘false prophets’ as he calls them.
Rather than being excited about his warrior ceremony, he was clouded by disappointment, a scowl on his face as he received his name. Moleflame. It was a respectable name, a powerful one. But Asterpaw always had to be better; he was given the name Asterstrike.
He hated his foster brother, always getting the praise, or having the most friends, or being recognized by Gullpelt. Moleflame prayed that Starclan would strike him down one day, make him into the pitiful little worm he truly was, and, to his surprise, they answered just a few moons later.
A fox had wandered into Redwoodclan territory and who had run right into it? None other than Asterstrike, chasing after a squirrel. Not expecting to come across the large creature, he was caught off-guard when it lunged for him, mauling the handsome tom until he was covered in scars. Most notable was the twisted state of his hind-leg, rendering him crippled. He was still able to be a warrior, but now he would have to live with his ruined appearance and broken leg.
Guilt plagued Moleflame at first, convinced that he had been the one to curse his brother with this fate, but it didn’t take him long to talk himself out of it. Starclan knew best and they had listened to him for a reason. He was their chosen one, after all.
Life after that was normal -- as normal as it could be with Thistleclan causing trouble. In the midst of the conflict, Gullpelt and Rookjump, his other foster brother, die in skirmishes. He grieves for them, but tries not to let it overcome him. Many other warriors would fall like this, fighting against their enemy.
In the middle of all the death, though, his foster sister has a litter -- her second litter, actually -- though only one single kit would survive. He didn’t really pay much mind to the new additions to the family. He was never very close to any of his foster family, but when he finally took the time to stop and visit the kittens in the nursery, their eyes full of curious wonder, he realized they were perfect for him to pass on his beliefs. Yellowheart had long since passed, killed in battle like any noble warrior, which only left Moleflame to continue preaching and convincing others of Starclan’s power.
Soon after, though, he was given an apprentice of his own: a bubbly tom named Duckpaw. He was a ball of energy, a lot like Moleflame himself when he was an apprentice. Now that he was a mentor, he understood the frustration Yellowheart must have gone through, because Duckpaw was all over the place. Just like his mentor did, Moleflame used physical punishment to discipline him, smacking the younger tom when he wasn’t paying attention to instructions or intentionally stepping on his tail whenever he talked back. He expected nothing short of the best from him.
He didn’t see anything wrong in his practice, but Duckpaw’s parents obviously did, because they soon went to Heatherstar and had their son assigned to a different warrior. Moleflame was angry. He tried to defend himself, saying that he would make him into a respectable cat, yet no one paid him any attention. After that, he wasn’t given any more apprentices for a long time.
Finally, things with Thistleclan settle, only for Lichenclan to suddenly attack them. Their deputy Bluetail dies, giving him an opening. This would be his moment! Except Heatherstar, their foolish leader, decided to name Gorseheart as her new deputy instead. He speaks out, causing a scene right there in the middle of the ceremony, but since he was the only one complaining, Gorseheart became deputy anyway.
His opinion of Heatherstar sours further at her refusal to train them for war. As the other clan continues to attack them, more warriors die, many of them respected senior warriors. Gorseheart is killed, too, as tensions rise. Again Moleflame hopes he’s chosen and, again, he’s disappointed when, of all candidates, she picks Finchtail. The yellow-bellied, spineless Finchtail. The tom is too angry to speak this time, festering in the middle of the gathered cats as they cheer his name.
The following cold season sends Lichenclan away but also brings a period of starvation. This kills off many more cats, including his foster sister, Wisteriaheart. She leaves her children, mate, and single brother behind, plus Moleflame, the foster brother no one thought twice about.
He fell sick, too, thanks to the cold and the lack of food. The medicine cat worried he might not make it, but soon the weather started to warm and he managed to bounce back. His immune system wasn’t quite the same, though. He got sick easily and seemed to always have a stuffy nose.
The end of Leafbare meant Lichenclan would return with a vengeance, taking Heatherstar’s last life and leaving Finchtail to take over. The second he was given the authority, he made the terrible decision of making a former kittypet the deputy. A kittypet! Moleflame had to stop himself from laughing. There was a change in medicine cat, too, as the soft Oatwhisker resigned and was replaced by his sister Orchidshade.
No matter how much he seemed to pray, Starclan never granted him any rank above a warrior. He was the one who spoke for them, preaching to everyone who dared to listen! How could they not give him the power he so desired, the power he could use to honor them in all ways? Maybe he just wasn’t praying enough, or wasn't spreading the word enough. In the face of what he perceived to be rejection, he doubled his efforts, insufferable in his talk about the stars.
Things on the island have continued to be chaotic; with the peace negotiation turning out unsuccessful, Redwoodclan is in the midst of a war with Lichenclan, a war that Moleflame prays turns out in their favor. Lichenclan were a bunch of heathens, not worthy of claiming the Moonpool as their territory. If anything, it belonged to them, the strongest clan of them all. They persevered in the face of many challenges and this would be another they would overcome.
With the arrival of a tribe cat, however, things have become even more strained. Moleflame is of the opinion that they should let the tribe deal with their sickness on their own, yet Finchstar seems determined to help them, for whatever reason. He doesn’t understand it himself, especially since it garners unwanted attention from Lichenclan.
His opinion of the situation with the tribe is worsened by the sickness they now have infected Redwoodclan with, a sickness that worries Moleflame. While he was never close with his family before, he hopes that his nephews and niece, plus his great nieces and nephew, aren’t taken by the illness. He hopes that he isn’t taken, either. No matter how much he continues to pray, hoping for a sign of better times, Starclan is silent. He fears that they really have abandoned him.
FATHER; Unknown Redwoodclan tom
FOSTER MOTHER; Orchidfoot (deceased)
FOSTER FATHER; Gullpelt (deceased)
FOSTER BROTHERS; Rookjump (deceased) & Asterstrike
FOSTER SISTER; Wisteriaheart (deceased)
NIECE; Iristhroat (@ owl)
GRAND-NEPHEW; Alder-root (rain )
GRAND-NIECES; Indigomist (owl ) & Wisteriawhisper (Silverfire )
GREAT GRAND-NIECES; Foxkit & Shiverkit
MENTOR; Yellowheart (deceased)
It was no secret that Willowbreeze got around, with both toms and she-cats. That said, it was uncertain who the father was when she showed signs of being pregnant, her belly gradually expanding as days passed. She was obviously unprepared to be a mother, a fact she made known to the other queens. Watching their kittens squirm and suckle noisily, Willowbreeze would get a look on her face, one that was similar to a cat smelling a rotten piece of crowfood.
The other queens were prepared to take in her kits once they were born, since it was clear she had no intentions of raising them.
Whether she planned to or not, Willowbreeze wouldn’t have been able to care for her kits, as the birth resulted in her death shortly after. The two kits were born sickly in the midst of the cold season and only one of them would live to see it’s end, a kit who would come by the name Molekit.
He was born a scrawny thing, but with time and nutrients, he grew to be the average size of a kitten. Taken in by Orchidfoot, he was raised alongside his three foster siblings, Asterkit, Wisteriakit, and Rook-kit. From the moment he had the mind to want, he always had to be the center of attention. Both him and his siblings came into it naturally, thanks to their mother doting on them and always telling them that they were better than the other kits, that they deserved the best.
His foster father, on the other hand, was harder to impress. Where Orchidfoot’s love was unconditional and almost overbearing, Gullpelt’s love depended on how well his kits did, or how smart they were. It became a competition to earn his love.
When Molekit and his siblings became apprentices, they kept going head-to-head. Asterpaw clawed his way to the top as he worked hard in training, showing exceptional skill in fighting, much to their father’s pleasure. Orchidfoot falls ill and, after continuing to get even worse, passes away. The sudden death leaves his siblings racked with grief, but most of all, they start to lag behind in their training. Molepaw takes the opportunity to get ahead.
Due to how prickly and temperamental he is, he goes through apprentice hood without many friends. His mentor Yellowheart is considered an odd cat within the clan, due to his constant preaching about Starclan and how powerful they are, but Molepaw looks up to him. He’s a stern mentor, too, using corporal punishment to keep the apprentice in line. He drills into him the fear of the stars, warning him never to cross them, unless he wanted to suffer their wrath.
It isn’t long until he starts to pick up his religious ramblings, praising Starclan to whoever tolerated him enough to listen. He did as Yellowheart told him to, following every rule of the warrior code and praying to the stars every night before sleep and every morning after waking up, to the point he convinced himself that he saw signs from Starclan themselves.
Even though he was already half-way through his training, he dreamed of becoming a medicine cat one day, if only to have a closer connection to their ancestors. He couldn’t care less about herbs or healing, he simply wanted the dreams sent by Starclan themselves, the privilege to speak to them directly. Even today, he’s adamant that he should have become medicine cat, instead of the spineless Oatwhisker and his sister Orchidshade, the ‘false prophets’ as he calls them.
Rather than being excited about his warrior ceremony, he was clouded by disappointment, a scowl on his face as he received his name. Moleflame. It was a respectable name, a powerful one. But Asterpaw always had to be better; he was given the name Asterstrike.
He hated his foster brother, always getting the praise, or having the most friends, or being recognized by Gullpelt. Moleflame prayed that Starclan would strike him down one day, make him into the pitiful little worm he truly was, and, to his surprise, they answered just a few moons later.
A fox had wandered into Redwoodclan territory and who had run right into it? None other than Asterstrike, chasing after a squirrel. Not expecting to come across the large creature, he was caught off-guard when it lunged for him, mauling the handsome tom until he was covered in scars. Most notable was the twisted state of his hind-leg, rendering him crippled. He was still able to be a warrior, but now he would have to live with his ruined appearance and broken leg.
Guilt plagued Moleflame at first, convinced that he had been the one to curse his brother with this fate, but it didn’t take him long to talk himself out of it. Starclan knew best and they had listened to him for a reason. He was their chosen one, after all.
Life after that was normal -- as normal as it could be with Thistleclan causing trouble. In the midst of the conflict, Gullpelt and Rookjump, his other foster brother, die in skirmishes. He grieves for them, but tries not to let it overcome him. Many other warriors would fall like this, fighting against their enemy.
In the middle of all the death, though, his foster sister has a litter -- her second litter, actually -- though only one single kit would survive. He didn’t really pay much mind to the new additions to the family. He was never very close to any of his foster family, but when he finally took the time to stop and visit the kittens in the nursery, their eyes full of curious wonder, he realized they were perfect for him to pass on his beliefs. Yellowheart had long since passed, killed in battle like any noble warrior, which only left Moleflame to continue preaching and convincing others of Starclan’s power.
Soon after, though, he was given an apprentice of his own: a bubbly tom named Duckpaw. He was a ball of energy, a lot like Moleflame himself when he was an apprentice. Now that he was a mentor, he understood the frustration Yellowheart must have gone through, because Duckpaw was all over the place. Just like his mentor did, Moleflame used physical punishment to discipline him, smacking the younger tom when he wasn’t paying attention to instructions or intentionally stepping on his tail whenever he talked back. He expected nothing short of the best from him.
He didn’t see anything wrong in his practice, but Duckpaw’s parents obviously did, because they soon went to Heatherstar and had their son assigned to a different warrior. Moleflame was angry. He tried to defend himself, saying that he would make him into a respectable cat, yet no one paid him any attention. After that, he wasn’t given any more apprentices for a long time.
Finally, things with Thistleclan settle, only for Lichenclan to suddenly attack them. Their deputy Bluetail dies, giving him an opening. This would be his moment! Except Heatherstar, their foolish leader, decided to name Gorseheart as her new deputy instead. He speaks out, causing a scene right there in the middle of the ceremony, but since he was the only one complaining, Gorseheart became deputy anyway.
His opinion of Heatherstar sours further at her refusal to train them for war. As the other clan continues to attack them, more warriors die, many of them respected senior warriors. Gorseheart is killed, too, as tensions rise. Again Moleflame hopes he’s chosen and, again, he’s disappointed when, of all candidates, she picks Finchtail. The yellow-bellied, spineless Finchtail. The tom is too angry to speak this time, festering in the middle of the gathered cats as they cheer his name.
The following cold season sends Lichenclan away but also brings a period of starvation. This kills off many more cats, including his foster sister, Wisteriaheart. She leaves her children, mate, and single brother behind, plus Moleflame, the foster brother no one thought twice about.
He fell sick, too, thanks to the cold and the lack of food. The medicine cat worried he might not make it, but soon the weather started to warm and he managed to bounce back. His immune system wasn’t quite the same, though. He got sick easily and seemed to always have a stuffy nose.
The end of Leafbare meant Lichenclan would return with a vengeance, taking Heatherstar’s last life and leaving Finchtail to take over. The second he was given the authority, he made the terrible decision of making a former kittypet the deputy. A kittypet! Moleflame had to stop himself from laughing. There was a change in medicine cat, too, as the soft Oatwhisker resigned and was replaced by his sister Orchidshade.
No matter how much he seemed to pray, Starclan never granted him any rank above a warrior. He was the one who spoke for them, preaching to everyone who dared to listen! How could they not give him the power he so desired, the power he could use to honor them in all ways? Maybe he just wasn’t praying enough, or wasn't spreading the word enough. In the face of what he perceived to be rejection, he doubled his efforts, insufferable in his talk about the stars.
Things on the island have continued to be chaotic; with the peace negotiation turning out unsuccessful, Redwoodclan is in the midst of a war with Lichenclan, a war that Moleflame prays turns out in their favor. Lichenclan were a bunch of heathens, not worthy of claiming the Moonpool as their territory. If anything, it belonged to them, the strongest clan of them all. They persevered in the face of many challenges and this would be another they would overcome.
With the arrival of a tribe cat, however, things have become even more strained. Moleflame is of the opinion that they should let the tribe deal with their sickness on their own, yet Finchstar seems determined to help them, for whatever reason. He doesn’t understand it himself, especially since it garners unwanted attention from Lichenclan.
His opinion of the situation with the tribe is worsened by the sickness they now have infected Redwoodclan with, a sickness that worries Moleflame. While he was never close with his family before, he hopes that his nephews and niece, plus his great nieces and nephew, aren’t taken by the illness. He hopes that he isn’t taken, either. No matter how much he continues to pray, hoping for a sign of better times, Starclan is silent. He fears that they really have abandoned him.
