Post by archon on Dec 11, 2021 19:06:32 GMT -6
Heavytalon
Thistleclan
A massive, smoke tortie she-cat with copper eyes.
Warrior
she-cat [she/they]
44 moons
AppearancE
Heavytalon is a behemoth; an uncommon trait for most mollies. A heathen in felid skin, with a rippled and muscular physique, built for mass instead of leanness, the longhaired felid has the body of a menacing conqueror. Her noticeably tall height only adds onto it. The dark monochrome of her long, thick fur is a diluted Tortoiseshell pattern. Dark shadows of mackerel stripes are vaguely evident in the dark patches of her fur. The sharp angles of her facial structures meet up with long ears, tufted at the ends. Her whiskers are ivory white.
The Thistleclan warrior is also embellished with a jagged scar that slashes from the bottom of her left ear, across her nasal bridge, and down to the right side of her jaw. Aside from a slit in her right ear, it's the most visible lesion on her. Another scar, this time a bite mark, runs down the side of her neck, painfully large and deep, and is accompanied by two other scars: a slash across the top of Heavytalon's shoulder blades and a cut down her ribcage.
The low gravel of her accented voice adds to her foreign origins of Wisconsin, often slipping into her native tongue. Finally, the greyscale of her appearance combats the intense richness of her deep copper eyes. They're often described as infernos, slivers of magma that shine from the mottled dark pattern of her coat.
The Thistleclan warrior is also embellished with a jagged scar that slashes from the bottom of her left ear, across her nasal bridge, and down to the right side of her jaw. Aside from a slit in her right ear, it's the most visible lesion on her. Another scar, this time a bite mark, runs down the side of her neck, painfully large and deep, and is accompanied by two other scars: a slash across the top of Heavytalon's shoulder blades and a cut down her ribcage.
The low gravel of her accented voice adds to her foreign origins of Wisconsin, often slipping into her native tongue. Finally, the greyscale of her appearance combats the intense richness of her deep copper eyes. They're often described as infernos, slivers of magma that shine from the mottled dark pattern of her coat.
Personality
Despite her hostile exterior, Heavytalon is surprisingly quiet, almost somber in nature as a product of her hardened past. She's demonstrated that she's self-assured and resistant to being influenced; the warrior doesn't kneel to things she doesn't agree with, regardless of whether or not the majority support it - a custom of her origin's culture instilled by Talonwatcher. This is also due to her experience working in a team, in both the role of a leader and a follower.
She's sharp and perceptive, always looking at the larger picture rather than just what's in front of her. As a result, she is more likely to be intuitive rather than flinging herself into every circumstance. She thinks about everything, remembers everything, and then moves on until the information is useful. While she isn't a walking ball of confidence and bravado like her brother, Ravenbay, Heavytalon is abundantly sure of herself.
On the contrast, such a horrendous appearance, Heavytalon can come off as a bit intimidating. Her rough speech and daunting presence can take on a domineering tone, which makes it a bit harder for her to connect with others. Because of the faults of her father, Heavytalon respects and trusts those who have proven themselves in her presence. Her distrusting personality is blatant, and can often lead to her to scrutinize those who are genuine in their intent. She also has a problem with forgiveness, often scoffing at the idea, especially in the face of a past betrayal.
She's sharp and perceptive, always looking at the larger picture rather than just what's in front of her. As a result, she is more likely to be intuitive rather than flinging herself into every circumstance. She thinks about everything, remembers everything, and then moves on until the information is useful. While she isn't a walking ball of confidence and bravado like her brother, Ravenbay, Heavytalon is abundantly sure of herself.
On the contrast, such a horrendous appearance, Heavytalon can come off as a bit intimidating. Her rough speech and daunting presence can take on a domineering tone, which makes it a bit harder for her to connect with others. Because of the faults of her father, Heavytalon respects and trusts those who have proven themselves in her presence. Her distrusting personality is blatant, and can often lead to her to scrutinize those who are genuine in their intent. She also has a problem with forgiveness, often scoffing at the idea, especially in the face of a past betrayal.
History
In the beginning...
"It's alright..." The she-cat attempted to sooth her mate, his narrow face grim and growing ever hostile, the new mother still basked in the air of exhaustion from labor pains. The den had fallen silent, aside from the buzz of gossiping from the other clan-members and the shouts of thunder from above, "Is it?" Addercatcher seethed, pupils sharp and haunting on Svanr, "How could you lie to me!? After everything we've been through!" There in the mossbed laid five kits, with that sought for the warmth of her thin-bodied sire. The tom hissed, his claws unsheathed before the nursing mother broke out in outcry.
The saga of the large warrior starts on the coldest winter night, deep in the bounds of the boreal forest where Heavytalon, at the time known as Kjöl, would be born alongside her three siblings. The family resided in a rather spacious band of loners and rogues, nomadic throughout the boreal. Her father had come back from a long voyage on the day of his kits' birth, mated to the nimble and cunning queen, Svanr. And though the moment was filled with love and admiration, it was soon short lived by the discovery of Kjöl and a stillborn.
The gray feline looked nothing like the sire, which was prompted by Svanr's confession of another she'd fallen in love with. Addercatcher, ever the temperamental conspirator, spoke that the larger kit had eaten away at his brood, causing confusion and suspicion. He became so angered that he aimed to strike the life out of the young kit, leaving a scar that was ever present. The mother, during and after her labor, was shamed by many others of the band.
Their bloodline, a lineage known for purity and seafaring fishers previously devoted to Lichenclan, had been broken the moment Addercatcher was given 'false kits', as he often said. He would interrogate his mate for the name of the other male but, to no avail. Thus, he named the firstborn Kjöl - a colossal burden bestowed upon him and his family so much so that he rejected the idea of giving her a name like his. The other three living kits were Birchbelly, Spiderthroat, and Ravenbay - another power play to flaunt their success over her as true heirs of his. They might have not been his blood, but they weren't as different to him as the firstborn.
What was to follow...
The autumn leaves fell over the youthful cats, Birchbelly puffing his chest out as Spiderthroat and Ravenbay groaned in protest at yet another roughhousing session gone out of their favors. Now and again, the eldest daughter would peer at them in her peripheral before being either shoved or hissed at by the golden Somali. Her limbs were tired and weak, aching down to the bone, with labored breath as she stumbled toward Addercatcher after yet another punishing obstacle of climbing up the large oak trees.
Already, she could hear his voice under the blur of her senses. "Sloppy," He sneered, curling his thin tail along his paws. Light green eyes seared into her lowered head, waiting for a response. When none came, he continued his criticism, "You'd be playing with your siblings if you would only put in the effort. If it were up to me, you'd be tending to the elders - obviously this is too much for you."
A sniffle broke the air, combated by the shadow of a grin along his muzzle, "Shed your tears for someone who gives a damn. Perhaps your mother?" But, unbeknownst to him, the stream of sorrow along her furred cheeks weren't of sorrow, but of a hidden need to bite her tongue.
After, she never got the time to play with her siblings, but was instead greeted by intense copper eyes in the forest. A timber voice echoed to her in the dark, slate gray fur peeking from the shadows. "Finally," The form cooed with sincerity and remorse, "I found you..."
As one might expect, Addercatcher was a biased father. Kjöl was less significant to him than his other three children, and instead of nourishing her, he treated her with disdain. The young she-cat would frequently return to their cozy den in the dead of night, only to be scolded the next morning and made to endure further training. It had all been overwhelming, and Kjöl, like most teens her age, began to exhibit rebellious tendencies. Svanr, who had been forsaken by her actions, was complacent and often looked the other way for her own protection, which caused their relationship to strain even farther.
Kjöl had been greeted by a woman hiding in the jungle while on night duty. She called herself Talonwatcher, and the resemblances were uncanny. While the first several encounters were flawed, founded in denial and sadness, the two were soon reunited with something Kjöl had sorely missed: love. Talonwatcher educated the young cat about her true origins, who were anchored in the lineage of honor, embedded from somewhere called Islandia and Norge [Iceland and Norway]. The older she-cat would train her in secret, heed her confessions and experiences in his absence, and make up for lost time.
-
They curled along a rock slab across a riverbank, Talonwatcher's eyes slanted with sadness at the news of her lost lover. "Why did you leave?" It hadn't been the first time that Kjöl, though this time had been much calmer. The warrior flicked her tongue along the adolescent's forehead, humming softly. "I was in love with your mother," she murmured, "Sadly, things don't always turn out the way we hope." It was the wisp of an Íslendingar saga on the tip of her tongue, marigold orbs casted onto the flowing stream. For a moment, they were greeted with nature and silence, before Kjöl spoke.
"I want to come with you."
Silence.
"No," Talonwatcher stated emphatically. The ancient warrior smoothed down the bristling strands on Kjöl's brow "My daughter, your time will come. Draw near now, shield yourself from Skaði’s winter, and I'll tell you some more stories before you settle for the night."
That night, the adolescent's dreams were filled with clans, starstruck with family secrets, and a new road put out in front of her.
Kjöl had matured into her adulthood, and the tension between her and Addercatcher had begun to peak. The father had sired many more kits at this point with different mollies of the band, hoping to reignite the chain of purity that he so desperately wanted to reforge for himself. Svanr had disappeared around the time of Addercatcher's second mate conceiving, allegedly killed by a badger.
Kjöl had tried to reconnect herself with her siblings, but Birchbelly and Spiderthroat were resistant. Ravenbay, on the other hand, had witnessed Addercatcher's inadequacies and the two siblings made up for lost time. During one of their father's numerous tangents, their animosity for him erupted into a riot. Rather than enabling it to pass him by, Kjöl became increasingly vociferous. The tom would chase her out of the band, shocked and disgusted by her defiance. All the tension from the passing moons had come crashing down in front of them, with rage and deception at the fore. Talonwatcher had arrived at the opportune time, assisting her eldest daughter in her efforts to prevent Addercatcher from expanding his manipulative grip.
Kjöl and Talonwatcher had yet to reveal the tom's condition or whereabouts, whether he had been slain or had withdrawn. Talonwatcher had taken it to her grave, dying soon after on the way to the clan grounds from her wounds. With her lasting breath, Talonwatcher spoke of Thistleclan - that they’d find their futures there. It seemed wrong to abandon the warrior, but she'd urge them to continue without her - a life of fretting, missing her beloved, and being overburdened with clan responsibilities had become excruciating. She wanted peace, finally, to be reunited with Svanr - to watch over her children in another life.
Thus, after giving their final goodbyes and promises, Kjöl and Ravenbay would go about their journey toward the camp borders.
Now...
Heavytalon.
It had taken everything not to shed a tear in the middle of the ceremony, though she could still hear the snickering of Ravenbay close by. Somehow, even in the clan, the warrior had felt alone. Until this moment, as if Talonwatcher's cooing touch was upon her once again. The memories of curling into her mother's chest, or playing in the wet grass were fresh and lit anew. Dancing in autumn leaves and hunting nocturnal prey together like several moons hadn't passed them by.
She was right beside her - even now. A silent thanks was casted by the tortie, to her mothers who were reunited in a land far beyond this one.
"It's alright..." The she-cat attempted to sooth her mate, his narrow face grim and growing ever hostile, the new mother still basked in the air of exhaustion from labor pains. The den had fallen silent, aside from the buzz of gossiping from the other clan-members and the shouts of thunder from above, "Is it?" Addercatcher seethed, pupils sharp and haunting on Svanr, "How could you lie to me!? After everything we've been through!" There in the mossbed laid five kits, with that sought for the warmth of her thin-bodied sire. The tom hissed, his claws unsheathed before the nursing mother broke out in outcry.
The saga of the large warrior starts on the coldest winter night, deep in the bounds of the boreal forest where Heavytalon, at the time known as Kjöl, would be born alongside her three siblings. The family resided in a rather spacious band of loners and rogues, nomadic throughout the boreal. Her father had come back from a long voyage on the day of his kits' birth, mated to the nimble and cunning queen, Svanr. And though the moment was filled with love and admiration, it was soon short lived by the discovery of Kjöl and a stillborn.
The gray feline looked nothing like the sire, which was prompted by Svanr's confession of another she'd fallen in love with. Addercatcher, ever the temperamental conspirator, spoke that the larger kit had eaten away at his brood, causing confusion and suspicion. He became so angered that he aimed to strike the life out of the young kit, leaving a scar that was ever present. The mother, during and after her labor, was shamed by many others of the band.
Their bloodline, a lineage known for purity and seafaring fishers previously devoted to Lichenclan, had been broken the moment Addercatcher was given 'false kits', as he often said. He would interrogate his mate for the name of the other male but, to no avail. Thus, he named the firstborn Kjöl - a colossal burden bestowed upon him and his family so much so that he rejected the idea of giving her a name like his. The other three living kits were Birchbelly, Spiderthroat, and Ravenbay - another power play to flaunt their success over her as true heirs of his. They might have not been his blood, but they weren't as different to him as the firstborn.
What was to follow...
The autumn leaves fell over the youthful cats, Birchbelly puffing his chest out as Spiderthroat and Ravenbay groaned in protest at yet another roughhousing session gone out of their favors. Now and again, the eldest daughter would peer at them in her peripheral before being either shoved or hissed at by the golden Somali. Her limbs were tired and weak, aching down to the bone, with labored breath as she stumbled toward Addercatcher after yet another punishing obstacle of climbing up the large oak trees.
Already, she could hear his voice under the blur of her senses. "Sloppy," He sneered, curling his thin tail along his paws. Light green eyes seared into her lowered head, waiting for a response. When none came, he continued his criticism, "You'd be playing with your siblings if you would only put in the effort. If it were up to me, you'd be tending to the elders - obviously this is too much for you."
A sniffle broke the air, combated by the shadow of a grin along his muzzle, "Shed your tears for someone who gives a damn. Perhaps your mother?" But, unbeknownst to him, the stream of sorrow along her furred cheeks weren't of sorrow, but of a hidden need to bite her tongue.
After, she never got the time to play with her siblings, but was instead greeted by intense copper eyes in the forest. A timber voice echoed to her in the dark, slate gray fur peeking from the shadows. "Finally," The form cooed with sincerity and remorse, "I found you..."
As one might expect, Addercatcher was a biased father. Kjöl was less significant to him than his other three children, and instead of nourishing her, he treated her with disdain. The young she-cat would frequently return to their cozy den in the dead of night, only to be scolded the next morning and made to endure further training. It had all been overwhelming, and Kjöl, like most teens her age, began to exhibit rebellious tendencies. Svanr, who had been forsaken by her actions, was complacent and often looked the other way for her own protection, which caused their relationship to strain even farther.
Kjöl had been greeted by a woman hiding in the jungle while on night duty. She called herself Talonwatcher, and the resemblances were uncanny. While the first several encounters were flawed, founded in denial and sadness, the two were soon reunited with something Kjöl had sorely missed: love. Talonwatcher educated the young cat about her true origins, who were anchored in the lineage of honor, embedded from somewhere called Islandia and Norge [Iceland and Norway]. The older she-cat would train her in secret, heed her confessions and experiences in his absence, and make up for lost time.
-
They curled along a rock slab across a riverbank, Talonwatcher's eyes slanted with sadness at the news of her lost lover. "Why did you leave?" It hadn't been the first time that Kjöl, though this time had been much calmer. The warrior flicked her tongue along the adolescent's forehead, humming softly. "I was in love with your mother," she murmured, "Sadly, things don't always turn out the way we hope." It was the wisp of an Íslendingar saga on the tip of her tongue, marigold orbs casted onto the flowing stream. For a moment, they were greeted with nature and silence, before Kjöl spoke.
"I want to come with you."
Silence.
"No," Talonwatcher stated emphatically. The ancient warrior smoothed down the bristling strands on Kjöl's brow "My daughter, your time will come. Draw near now, shield yourself from Skaði’s winter, and I'll tell you some more stories before you settle for the night."
That night, the adolescent's dreams were filled with clans, starstruck with family secrets, and a new road put out in front of her.
Kjöl had matured into her adulthood, and the tension between her and Addercatcher had begun to peak. The father had sired many more kits at this point with different mollies of the band, hoping to reignite the chain of purity that he so desperately wanted to reforge for himself. Svanr had disappeared around the time of Addercatcher's second mate conceiving, allegedly killed by a badger.
Kjöl had tried to reconnect herself with her siblings, but Birchbelly and Spiderthroat were resistant. Ravenbay, on the other hand, had witnessed Addercatcher's inadequacies and the two siblings made up for lost time. During one of their father's numerous tangents, their animosity for him erupted into a riot. Rather than enabling it to pass him by, Kjöl became increasingly vociferous. The tom would chase her out of the band, shocked and disgusted by her defiance. All the tension from the passing moons had come crashing down in front of them, with rage and deception at the fore. Talonwatcher had arrived at the opportune time, assisting her eldest daughter in her efforts to prevent Addercatcher from expanding his manipulative grip.
Kjöl and Talonwatcher had yet to reveal the tom's condition or whereabouts, whether he had been slain or had withdrawn. Talonwatcher had taken it to her grave, dying soon after on the way to the clan grounds from her wounds. With her lasting breath, Talonwatcher spoke of Thistleclan - that they’d find their futures there. It seemed wrong to abandon the warrior, but she'd urge them to continue without her - a life of fretting, missing her beloved, and being overburdened with clan responsibilities had become excruciating. She wanted peace, finally, to be reunited with Svanr - to watch over her children in another life.
Thus, after giving their final goodbyes and promises, Kjöl and Ravenbay would go about their journey toward the camp borders.
Now...
Heavytalon.
It had taken everything not to shed a tear in the middle of the ceremony, though she could still hear the snickering of Ravenbay close by. Somehow, even in the clan, the warrior had felt alone. Until this moment, as if Talonwatcher's cooing touch was upon her once again. The memories of curling into her mother's chest, or playing in the wet grass were fresh and lit anew. Dancing in autumn leaves and hunting nocturnal prey together like several moons hadn't passed them by.
She was right beside her - even now. A silent thanks was casted by the tortie, to her mothers who were reunited in a land far beyond this one.