Smokestorm

Thistleclan

A blue tom with orange eyes

In stature, Smokestorm is close to average in height. However his shoulders are broad and strong, and his legs are taught with muscle.

The tom's pelt is pure, dark blue. It strikes in bright contrast with his eyes, which are bright amber in color. His coat is short but plush. He keeps it clean to the best of his ability, but it is not uncommon for him to enter camp with dead pine needles and twigs stuck to it due to its fuzzy texture.

His face is round with a wider muzzle and small triangular ears. His nose and paw pads match the darkness of his coat, as do his dimly colored whiskers. His eyes sit small within his head, almonds of orange on his wide grey face.

Smokestorm has earned some scars in his life. Most noticeably, he has several fox-dealt injuries across his back, shoulders, and legs. He has a few battle scars as well, dealt a scar to his shoulder from Wispfang and a nicked ear from a scuffle in his youth.

Above all, Smokestorm wishes to be seen as kind. He dreams for a world in which he is a valiant tom not for his successes in combat, but instead for being a comforting shoulder to lean on when others needed it most. It is with the utmost care that tries to speak to those he loves. While he does not always understand what another is feeling right away, he tries hard to be a comforting, compassionate presence.



While Smokestorm does leap to put his loved ones first, his clan as a whole is a close second. He is dedicated to making ThistleClan a safer place for all that call it home, regardless of whether he knows the other cats well. It never was solely a matter of compassion that drives him to work so hard for his clan, but also a deep sense of duty and a strong loyalty towards the leadership of ThistleClan. However, in his attempts of performing acts of duty, he can be single-minded. While he focuses on his task, the nuances and details often slip past him and cause further problems down the line.



Smokestorm spends a great deal of time within his own mind. Whether it be about his desires and dreams or his self-loathing, he is self-aware of his emotions as well as those of others. He tries to channel the internal dialogue into something more useful when he can. While he is in his head he spends a lot of time thinking about how to help those who he cares about. It is not uncommon for him to have sudden bursts of affection, often in the form of specially decided gifts.



Smokestorm's gentle, soft kindness is a product of his own creation; a divergence from the personality he came to have naturally up to his apprentice years. Despite his efforts to bury the parts he hates about himself, he cannot cover up everything. He is highly impatient when faced with any amount of waiting time. It feels excruciating to him, and he is the type to try to pace about helplessly or disappear to do things with more immediate rewards.



Smokestorm tries to keep his cool, to let himself ride the high of being a helpful warrior whose kindness is something worth remembering. But when he snaps, he loses himself in his anger easily. While this can lead to more harm than good, there are occasions where his fast-acting in response to a threat helped him protect those he cares about. The most likely situation to call him to fight is the prospect of another being in critical danger, especially if he is the only one who could intercept to protect them.


Much of Smokestorm's self-worth is tied directly to a single event, one where he could not help someone he cared about before their death. He crafted a whole lie around himself, one where he has to be perfect in his image in order to feel that he will never commit such a horrible act again. It is something that he feels an intense amount of guilt over, something that follows him wherever he goes.

Littermates - Cinderfeather (silverfire), Charcoaltail (NPC)
Mate - Mistflower (moony)
Children - Rainsmoke (rain) & Cloudpaw (budgie)

Mentor - Owlfang (raven)
Apprentices - Goldenstrike (NPC), Bearblaze (spotty), Pinesmoke (egotistic)


On a Newleaf morning, the cries of three newborn kits woke the ThistleClan camp. They were named carefully, with the colors of their pelts and fire that filled their veins in mind. Smokekit was the second kit born and found himself falling into the mindset of a middle child easily. His elder brother, Charcoalkit, was the biggest and strongest of the kits, and Cinderkit was a delicate little thing since birth. Smokekit was largely unremarkable compared to his siblings. His parents loved and cared for them equally, but perhaps it was Smokekit's inferiority complex that led to his misbehaving.

He was a reckless, troublesome thing, always finding himself in way more mischief than he could deal with. The one thing that united him with his brother was his furious desire to protect his sister. The pair were practically her escorts wherever she went. They would use threats and cruel words as needed to protect Cinderkit, and Smokekit would not hesitate to let their defense turn into physical bouts of violence. Of course, Smokekit was too small to cause any true damage to the others, but it was still enough to warrant many stern words from his parents. He loved his family above all others, especially when said others might lead Cinderkit to be in danger.

The exception was always Cranekit. While much of Smokekit's evenings and nights were shared with his family, Cranekit was who he chose to be around during the day. Cranekit was a soft young lady of a kit, someone who would always look at Smokekit's antics, scoff, and then prance away. After a moon of distant glaring, their frustration at the other came to a head. The two kits fought tooth and nail, both eventually falling over with exhaustion.

Smokekit hadn't expected to come out of the scenario with a best friend, but he and Cranekit became stuck like glue. Their words towards the other were harsh and downright cruel at times, but the other would just laugh it off and send their own insults back. It was a beautiful friendship, one that Smokekit, despite his prior reservations, loved dearly.

When Cranekit was still in the nursery, it was discovered that her father was acting in ways that were disloyal to her mother. The feud became long and drawn out, and when Cranekit could not hide in the crook of her mother's arm, she cried on Smokekit's shoulder. For no other cat had Smokekit been a resting place, somewhere to fall when you were hurt or grieving. But it was then that he realized how good it felt to support those you care about, and he knew he would always want to be there for his family and friends whenever he could.

Cranekit became a warrior sooner than Smokekit, which nearly drove him crazy. Eventually, he joined her in the apprentice den, assigned to a young but respected tom named Owlfang.


Owlfang was a fine mentor, one who would hopefully be able to wrangle the mischievous, fiery Smokekit. While the tom certainly had a lot of heart, it often erupted in explosive bursts of passion that left those around him burned by the heat. Owlfang rarely reacted positively to his outbursts, leading to Smokepaw becoming particularly sneaky in an attempt to avoid the tom's strict reprisals.

Despite a subtly tense relationship between the two felines, Smokepaw found that he enjoyed being in his mentor's company nonetheless. Their relationship seemed formal and business-like from the outside, but Smokepaw believed somewhere in the big tom's heart there was a bit of fondness for his apprentice. His mentor pushed him hard to succeed in the more physical aspects of clan living, as well as stress the importance of loyalty and duty. Smokepaw did his best to show his mentor that he was absorbing it all, or at least while Owlfang was watching.

Any moment he was not training Smokepaw would badger his fellow apprentices, specifically Cinderpaw and Cranepaw above all others. Cranepaw seemed more interested in the other apprentices at times, which hurt Smokepaw, but he tried to bottle up his feelings as much as he could.

It was a night of fun that ended with him and Cranepaw confined to camp for a day. Much to his frustration, it was also the day his brother and sister were assigned to patrol with their mother. He was devastated and sharpen his claws on tree bark in an attempt to reduce his boiling anger.

When he heard that their encounter had lead to LichenClan bloodshed, he only wished he had joined more. That received just a sharp retort from his mother. At least he didn't have to pick ticks out of the elders for a moon with his siblings.

As time went on, Smokepaw's relationship with Cranepaw was becoming strained. They were still as close as ever, but their pointed jabs were becoming more and more hurtful, and his jealousy at her consistently abandoning him for the other apprentices only made his attitude worse.

She was ditching him again after promising to spend time together. In a fit of rage, Smokepaw called out to her with words he will never forget. "You're turning into your father!" It was a ruthless insult, one of the subjects he had known to avoid before his fiery temper got the best of him. His best friend looked at him with deep pain in her eyes before running from camp. Smokepaw let her go, assuming she would just cry to her new friends about it and come back with an insult even worse in response.

The next morning, her mentor requested a patrol to search for her. All that remained of her were a few torn scraps of white pelt and licked clean bones, along with the musky odor of foxes. Smokepaw was destroyed. If he hadn't said such awful things, if he had been a kinder tom, she would never have run off alone. His best friend would still be alive. It blamed that he knew he would carry his whole life, a loathing that would try to stifle what fire he had left.


Smokepaw became despondent, barely trying during each lesson his mentor attempted to give him. He huddled with his siblings, refusing to return to his original spot where Cranepaw had slept so near to him. He spoke little, but inside his mind guilt and anger spoke in equal measure.

His newfound distance was enough not to question his sister's words whenever she said she was not suffering at the paws of other apprentices. It was when he discovered the truth that he realized he could not be absent any longer. The flame of passion was dulled and tame, but it was back nonetheless. This time, it would be different. He would be different.

He had regressed in strength and dexterity during his period of depression, and it took nearly a moon to recover fully on a physical level. Owlfang allowed him an unusual amount of breathing room for such a strict mentor, and Smokepaw knew it meant that the older tom did care about him deep down. He worked and worked, though whenever Owlfang attempted to continue his fighting training Smokepaw always felt conflicted. He eventually decided that if he had to defend his sister again, he had to know how to battle properly, but he made an effort to learn how to dismantle a fight rather than defeat an opponent. His hunting skills improved, but not enough to mark him as skilled. It was, however, just enough to pass his warrior assessment.

It was between the time his assessment ended and before his warrior ceremony that his skills were put to the test. He was sent with two younger apprentices to hunt close to the camp, but a lack of prey in the Leafbare forest was enough for the group to push away from home. It was on the outer edges of territory that the trio encountered a creature that made it apparent it was interested in taking one of the young apprentices home as a snack. The fox was large and imposing, but in a sudden act of violence in the moment of the fox's lunge, Smokepaw lashed out across the creature's side. As the monster turned towards him, he yelled at the younger cats to run. The fox attempted to run past him, but he leaped on it and scratched it again before interposing himself between the creature and the fleeing apprentices once again.

It was then that Smokepaw was sure he would die at the jaws of the creature, just as his childhood friend had moons before. It quickly became clear he was no match for the fox. His shoulders ached from bite wounds, and he had a deep wound on his flank from the creature's claws. It was pure luck that a patrol found him in time.

Upon his return to camp, he received healing for his wounds. It was with a poultice on his shoulder that his warrior name was announced. Smokestorm... It sounded like the name of a whirlwind cat, one who could not control his emotions, one who acted with reckless ferocity. It was everything Smokestorm hated. It was said that his fearless bravery against the predator had been the crux accomplishment to receiving the name he did, but instead of pride, he would wear it like a curse.

As a warrior, Smokestorm did many things the same as always. He aimed to move with kindness in his heart rather than anger. He idolizes the role of a dutiful, loyal warrior, an image often depicted in his mentor. Despite all of his efforts, all he sees in his reflection is the cat who murdered Cranepaw.


He lived through floods, through sickness, and through threats of rogue attack, all coming out the other end with himself and his family alive. That didn't mean they were unscathed. His mother and father were proof of it. He can imagine the somber image of them looking at each other lovingly from opposite sides of the medicine cat's den, their mother infected with whitecough and their father with a nasty wound from a rogue attack. It gave him a strong inclination to not trust any outsider of ThistleClan, no matter what ploy they may employ to worm themselves into your business. When the sickness hit ThistleClan the next year, Cinderfeather was the cat most effected in the family. With a nasty case of greencough, it was believed there was a chance she would not recover given the rarity of herbs. But she pulled through; something Smokestorm thanks StarClan for every time he sees her.

If he can do one thing with the rest of his days, it is to be valuable and worthy. If he is to outdo his past, he had to become someone he had never known before. His deepest desire is to finally outrun the self that haunts him.

It is at the end of the 2021 season that his sister reveals her matehood with Blazingstorm, one of Smokestorm's greatest enemies within ThistleClan. He is appalled, only to find out that not only will they be mates, but that she is pregnant with his kits. A fight unfolds, one that pushes the siblings apart. When her kits are born, Smokestorm is not involved in their kithoods, only visiting Fernkit in the medicine cat during his sicky moons under Shadepool's supervision.


Cinderfeather's relationship devolves, and she reconnects with Smokestorm after discovering that Blazingstorm cheated on her. Smokestorm accepts her back in his life and makes an effort to reconnect with his niece and nephew. He grows especially close to his nephew Fernpaw, who he aided during Cinderfeather and Blazingstorm's fights.

Meanwhile, Smokestorm develops feelings for a she-cat near his age named Mistflower. They find purpose together in hard work and spend many patrols helping to supply their clan with prey and safety. War develops with LichenClan as they team up with rogues, but Smokestorm is never called to be directly involved in it. Instead, he helps around camp and provides for those more fit for fighting.

It is in the cold season that he and Mistflower finally become mates. The pair confess and decide to share a den, discovering Mistflower is pregnant not long after. However, when she is on a patrol with Blackpaw, an apprentice, they are attacked by a fox and she goes into labor early. Two kittens are lost to the cold, and two manage to survive. They are named Rainkit and Cloudkit.


Mistflower's health continues to decline. Smokestorm does his best to balance his duties with his newfound family but finds the task challenging especially as Mistflower grows increasingly weary and ill. It is in the early newleaf that finally, Mistflower develops a fever and begins to hallucinate her deceased stillborn kittens haunting her. Shadepool tries to aid her with herbs, but she passes away from her illness when the herbs take hold and put her to sleep.

The flood ravaged ThistleClan's camp in mid-spring, and all were forced to flee. Smokestorm took his kits with the rest of ThistleClan to the bearstones. He has a gnawing feeling that, despite RedwoodClan's show of mercy to let them stay, battles over the land will be inevitable.

As his children age into apprentices, Smokestorm continues to spend any time away from his family with his apprentice, Pinepaw. He enjoyes her youthful eagerness to explore and grow in strength and knowledge and admires her kindness. Together, they discuss the state of ThistleClan, hunt, perform chores, and finally, when Pinepaw asks him to help her perform an act of bravery to draw Stagstar's attention, the pair chase a badger away from the nearby land. Pinepaw graduates not long after, taking the name Pinesmoke. Smokestorm cannot believe that her name might be in reference to his training and their connection, but he does hope that she does not mind remembering him when she ponders her warrior name if he comes to her mind.

Smokestorm without an apprentice rapidly grew more and more restless. Instead of turning to his duties as he had in the past, he instead narrowed in on his daughter's actions, finding her mentor a regrettable option. Despite Jaythroat's poor skills as a mentor and moody demeanor, Rainsmoke earns her warrior name before even her brother, Cloudpaw, bringing a warmth to Smokestorm that he had never expected to feel ever since Mistflower passed away.


With more fighting on the horizon, Smokestorm continues to try to ready himself. He swallows his regrets and faces the conflict, finally having something worth fighting for.