[Frogfire] [Redwood Clan] [Warrior]
Apr 21, 2023 10:51:44 GMT -6
c a n n a, soot, and 1 more like this
Post by 𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙨 :) on Apr 21, 2023 10:51:44 GMT -6
FROGFIRE
REDWOOD CLAN
Cinnamon tom with green eyes.
Warrior
male/tom
21 moons
Appearance
Frogfire is a lanky tom, standing taller than the average Redwood clanner. His spindly legs carry him with an air of confidence. He walks with wide strides and holds his angular head high. Despite his thin stature, the warrior has a sturdy physique, his body seemingly always tense for action. His pelt is a warm autumn brown, blending perfectly with the leaves during leaf-fall. It's soft and thin, not best for cold nights, but perfect against the sun. His fur is often slicked down, except for the new jagged scar marks down his chest and left side. His striking green eyes and long ears make him very recognizable, along with his prominent muzzle and nose.
Personality
+ Confident and Devoted | - Vain and Guileful | : Conspicuous and Adept
Devotion was ingrained into Frogfire while his mind was still malleable. His aunt, who put loyalty over everything, assured Frogkit that his skills were a gift for the clan. His strengths were meant to protect what he loved, and what he should love more than anything, was his home. Since his mother’s disappearance, Frogfire has carried that ideal on his shoulders. A devoted warrior was the only valued warrior. Time had morphed this idea into something more exhausting, focusing all of his worth into what he could provide. This standard was hidden well however, by the tom’s tendency to be the loudest in the room.
Before the most pivotal point in Frogfire’s life, the tom stood confident and unwavering. Being a proficient apprentice, turned into a fit and formidable warrior, Frogfire thought highly of himself, and for good reason. Praise comes easily to him, and his gratitude towards the compliments slowly turned into expectation. His ego grew as he did, and eventually left him feeling untouchable.
Feelings of immortality cost him his sense of humility. It turned him slightly deceitful, and sly. Having your potential legacy on display drives you to protect that image, even if that requires white lies.
As of late however, the resolve that burned within his eyes has dwindled. After narrowly avoiding death by a rogue during the final battle, Frogfire has only felt less than. The rogue, hovering over his barely breathing form, decimated his sense of self and without it, he was empty. His true personality still shines through on occasion, but the tom is currently trapped in a state of depersonalization.
Devotion was ingrained into Frogfire while his mind was still malleable. His aunt, who put loyalty over everything, assured Frogkit that his skills were a gift for the clan. His strengths were meant to protect what he loved, and what he should love more than anything, was his home. Since his mother’s disappearance, Frogfire has carried that ideal on his shoulders. A devoted warrior was the only valued warrior. Time had morphed this idea into something more exhausting, focusing all of his worth into what he could provide. This standard was hidden well however, by the tom’s tendency to be the loudest in the room.
Before the most pivotal point in Frogfire’s life, the tom stood confident and unwavering. Being a proficient apprentice, turned into a fit and formidable warrior, Frogfire thought highly of himself, and for good reason. Praise comes easily to him, and his gratitude towards the compliments slowly turned into expectation. His ego grew as he did, and eventually left him feeling untouchable.
Feelings of immortality cost him his sense of humility. It turned him slightly deceitful, and sly. Having your potential legacy on display drives you to protect that image, even if that requires white lies.
As of late however, the resolve that burned within his eyes has dwindled. After narrowly avoiding death by a rogue during the final battle, Frogfire has only felt less than. The rogue, hovering over his barely breathing form, decimated his sense of self and without it, he was empty. His true personality still shines through on occasion, but the tom is currently trapped in a state of depersonalization.
History
When he was only a moon old, Frogkit was taken into the care of his aunt. His mother, riddled with traitorous thoughts against their leader and her home, ran from the clan to fabled freedom. His mother, according to his aunt, was a coward. A self-proclaimed anarchist with the dream that one day Redwood Clan would fight for power over the lesser clans. That’s all it ever was, however, a dream. His aunt believed in a different future. She was a loving yet brazen force to be reckoned with, and dedicated her energy to her clan. Frogkit grew watching her tend to the queens, hauling prey from each patrol, and being there in any way she could. Such selflessness painted her a hero in his young eyes, glossing over how it stretched her eminently thin.
As time carried him from kithood to his apprenticeship, Frogpaw's abilities started to shine. Quick, and surprisingly coordinated, his aunt and his mentor envisioned him as a star warrior. Even though he was young, Frogpaw knew his aunt clung to his abilities out of anxiety. She has been through so much, and lost even more. She viewed him as a gift from Starclan for her dutifulness.
“A blessing from their ancestors,” She often whispered. Frogpaw considered himself just slightly above average, but he was often scolded when he got down from their metaphorical pedestal. He was told to never let his head hang, to view himself as the “hero” he would one day be. She ran herself ragged to care for the clan, and now, it was his turn. He was deified, from the moment he was assigned to his mentor, and pushed until the day of his naming ceremony. It resulted in him being extremely talented physically, but extremely mentally strained from the constant expectations on his shoulders. Her obsession with his potential morphed its way into his own self-image and his arrogant persona formed. He was a blessing, and though he was not the strongest of the warriors, he believed his drive and morals gave him the higher ground.
That was, until the day of the battle.
Frogfire, sprinting along the borders of Redwood Clan in pursuit of his mentor, stumbled across a massive, black-furred rogue. Beneath her, a bloodied mess. His once lively aunt was now reduced to gorey shreds. His aunt was an unstoppable force in his eyes, and there she laid, unmoving. He launched himself towards the attacker without thinking, vengeance turning his vision white. His paws barely whiffed a hair on the rogue before he was being tackled to the forest floor. He doesn’t remember much after that, only the sound of his heartbeat and the warmness running down his side and chest. The medicine cat told him he was found barely breathing, along with the corpse of his aunt and the overpowering smell of an unknown she-cat.
Since the battle, Frogfire has been slowly healing physically, but spirally mentally. He still participates in clan duties, but has become socially aloof.
As time carried him from kithood to his apprenticeship, Frogpaw's abilities started to shine. Quick, and surprisingly coordinated, his aunt and his mentor envisioned him as a star warrior. Even though he was young, Frogpaw knew his aunt clung to his abilities out of anxiety. She has been through so much, and lost even more. She viewed him as a gift from Starclan for her dutifulness.
“A blessing from their ancestors,” She often whispered. Frogpaw considered himself just slightly above average, but he was often scolded when he got down from their metaphorical pedestal. He was told to never let his head hang, to view himself as the “hero” he would one day be. She ran herself ragged to care for the clan, and now, it was his turn. He was deified, from the moment he was assigned to his mentor, and pushed until the day of his naming ceremony. It resulted in him being extremely talented physically, but extremely mentally strained from the constant expectations on his shoulders. Her obsession with his potential morphed its way into his own self-image and his arrogant persona formed. He was a blessing, and though he was not the strongest of the warriors, he believed his drive and morals gave him the higher ground.
That was, until the day of the battle.
Frogfire, sprinting along the borders of Redwood Clan in pursuit of his mentor, stumbled across a massive, black-furred rogue. Beneath her, a bloodied mess. His once lively aunt was now reduced to gorey shreds. His aunt was an unstoppable force in his eyes, and there she laid, unmoving. He launched himself towards the attacker without thinking, vengeance turning his vision white. His paws barely whiffed a hair on the rogue before he was being tackled to the forest floor. He doesn’t remember much after that, only the sound of his heartbeat and the warmness running down his side and chest. The medicine cat told him he was found barely breathing, along with the corpse of his aunt and the overpowering smell of an unknown she-cat.
Since the battle, Frogfire has been slowly healing physically, but spirally mentally. He still participates in clan duties, but has become socially aloof.
