Post by kaz on Mar 3, 2020 18:07:54 GMT -6
Eggpelt
Thistleclan
A chubby blue and white Tom with blue eyes
warrior
Tom
20 moons
Appearance
Eggpelt is of median height, standing at about 2 3/4ft. tall at full measure. His poofy fur might give him another few centimeters as well. His father's blood gives him a stockier build than others in his clan. His back legs are more muscular than his front, and he has smoothly curved shoulders. His paws are also a little larger than average. His backside is broader than his chest, ending with a long fuzzy tail.
Eggpelt's fur is long and poofy, his broader frame letting it bunch up into a nice mane. Because his fur is so even, it often makes his face dissapear, leaving only his eyes and ears really visible. He has a smoky gray mask that comes down from the back of his head, with white around his muzzle and pink nose. His underbelly is white while his sides and back have stripes and melds of cream, gray and blue.
Eggpelt's face is vertically squashed because of his small forehead and short, angular muzzle. This makes his grins look a bit sly, even when they aren't intended to be. He has chubby cheeks with long whiskers. His eyes are sky blue, and large with expressive eyebrows. Eggpelts ears are long and rounded, with tufts of fur coming off the top
Eggpelt's fur is long and poofy, his broader frame letting it bunch up into a nice mane. Because his fur is so even, it often makes his face dissapear, leaving only his eyes and ears really visible. He has a smoky gray mask that comes down from the back of his head, with white around his muzzle and pink nose. His underbelly is white while his sides and back have stripes and melds of cream, gray and blue.
Eggpelt's face is vertically squashed because of his small forehead and short, angular muzzle. This makes his grins look a bit sly, even when they aren't intended to be. He has chubby cheeks with long whiskers. His eyes are sky blue, and large with expressive eyebrows. Eggpelts ears are long and rounded, with tufts of fur coming off the top
Personality
Eggpelt is a cool cat, and his brand of swagger is that rare type based on self-confidence and charisma. He can be seen delighting his fancy in food, appearance, and friendships, regardless of social convention. He has no regard for what anyone may think about him, save for a few key individuals. His sort of boldness isn't loud and brash, but rather coy and slick, preferring to let an odd design choice of his be observed, or catch and manipulate the mistakes of others before making a forward attack.
He has a bardic personality, and anyone that speaks to him will get something of a small performance for their trouble. His voice rises and lowers in pitch, his expressions move, his tail flits this way and that, and he makes use of his body language in ways that often conveys whole thoughts in. Often times, his thoughts will be conveyed through a dramatic series of motions and onomatopoeia without using words at all, if they are succinct enough. Even though Eggpelt is one that enjoys talking, he's adopted some of the Thistleclan prickliness, and especially enjoys delivering a well-crafted insult or comeback. He's taken a bit of this bite to heart, as he believes that his classmates refusal to engage in real conversation is a sign of snobbery and superiority, and will chide anyone he feels to be taking themselves too seriously, then head to the Redwoodclan border to see if he could persuade any of the chatty giants to entertain him. While self-acceptance is good, Eggpelt doesn't seem to realize that he is engaging in the same sort of behavior from another perspective.
He may feel this way, because his mouth is his main weapon. Aware of his squishiness, he prefers to talk his way out of bad situations, and into good ones, and has tools to do it. Compromise, negotiation, and discussion.
Eggpelt would be able fit right in with the kittypets if there were any around. He is lazy, but oddly dependable. Eggpelt knows that if he wants to get his way, he needs to stay in good graces with the leadership. A hunting trip isn't so bad, but anything else, he detests. Many hear him complain, but those that know him know that his whining or dilly-dallying means he is actually invested in the work, even if he is more concerned with the hangout. When he appears to be focused, he is. On a way out.
In order to spare himself this, Eggpelt doesn't see anything wrong with using others as tools to paint his fences for him, as long as the work is for the benefit of the clan, and believes that because he "organized" the project, hes entitled to his own share because of it. Others may see it as swindling, but he does put in enough work himself. Exactly enough work so that people can't make those claims. Compromise.
There is a sweetness underneath this kind of sour exterior. A bit of his sensitivity from before his confident days still remain, and he wears and has a small amount of cats that he trusts. These cats get all the perks and benefits of deeply valued friendships. He would truly die for his real friends. He also requires a bit more depth of understanding of a person for what he does, so he usually can find something at least redeemable about someone.
He has a bardic personality, and anyone that speaks to him will get something of a small performance for their trouble. His voice rises and lowers in pitch, his expressions move, his tail flits this way and that, and he makes use of his body language in ways that often conveys whole thoughts in. Often times, his thoughts will be conveyed through a dramatic series of motions and onomatopoeia without using words at all, if they are succinct enough. Even though Eggpelt is one that enjoys talking, he's adopted some of the Thistleclan prickliness, and especially enjoys delivering a well-crafted insult or comeback. He's taken a bit of this bite to heart, as he believes that his classmates refusal to engage in real conversation is a sign of snobbery and superiority, and will chide anyone he feels to be taking themselves too seriously, then head to the Redwoodclan border to see if he could persuade any of the chatty giants to entertain him. While self-acceptance is good, Eggpelt doesn't seem to realize that he is engaging in the same sort of behavior from another perspective.
He may feel this way, because his mouth is his main weapon. Aware of his squishiness, he prefers to talk his way out of bad situations, and into good ones, and has tools to do it. Compromise, negotiation, and discussion.
Eggpelt would be able fit right in with the kittypets if there were any around. He is lazy, but oddly dependable. Eggpelt knows that if he wants to get his way, he needs to stay in good graces with the leadership. A hunting trip isn't so bad, but anything else, he detests. Many hear him complain, but those that know him know that his whining or dilly-dallying means he is actually invested in the work, even if he is more concerned with the hangout. When he appears to be focused, he is. On a way out.
In order to spare himself this, Eggpelt doesn't see anything wrong with using others as tools to paint his fences for him, as long as the work is for the benefit of the clan, and believes that because he "organized" the project, hes entitled to his own share because of it. Others may see it as swindling, but he does put in enough work himself. Exactly enough work so that people can't make those claims. Compromise.
There is a sweetness underneath this kind of sour exterior. A bit of his sensitivity from before his confident days still remain, and he wears and has a small amount of cats that he trusts. These cats get all the perks and benefits of deeply valued friendships. He would truly die for his real friends. He also requires a bit more depth of understanding of a person for what he does, so he usually can find something at least redeemable about someone.
History
Wrensong slumped in her den one afternoon, and wept. The love of her life, a large loner called Sleet that had stolen her heart and saved her life, had been killed during an patrol when he had been caught on the wrong side of the border. The mother desperatley wanted them to meet when they were a little older, but they would grow never knowing the strength and love of their father. She would go on to lose even more of his legacy when two of the three kits in her litter came stillborn, but the sound of life came from the third, and largest. Eggkit was her only child.
As he grew a bit, Eggkit had a stubborn issue with his weight. Combined the feminine traits he picked up from his single mother, and the nature of his lineage, gave him a hard time fitting in with the others. He soon got bored simply sticking around his mom, as sweet as she was, and sought the attention of his peers. He was a very serious cat at the time, trying to appear like he was a picture perfect individal, but these attempts at fitting in only wrought more friction. Wrensong was always there to comfort him.
There was one kit that especially ruthless to him, tricking him into all sorts of embarrassing moments and gullible follies. However, she was kind enough to make him laugh when he was feeling down, and soon he and Swiftkit became friends. Eggkit began to take notes of how she acted and spoke, and started finding it easier to talk to others. Swiftkit and Eggkit found themselves growing more attached, becoming a little Bonnie-and-Clyde-esque duo. Her signature move being to place a flower in by his ear to make him feel silly. And loved. A kitten's romance blossomed and together, they moved into apprenticeship. Wrensong took Swiftkit, and Yewthorn got stuck Eggkit.
Eggpaw had a pretty normal apprenticeship in the beginning. Showing signs of prowess on the hunting field, he quickly figured out he could trade extra hunted food for small favors, and employed this technique so that he can and Swiftpaw could hang by the bog or rub their faces in catnip once they took care of their important responsibilites. He also got to know Yewthorn more as his initial annoyance wore off. When he asked how she always ended up with time or choice prey, Swiftpaw instructed, Kill them with kindness, that's how you win." Easier said than done, but things were good.
---
Swiftpaw had breathed her last before Eggpaw had even gotten to Ratwhisker's den. They had spent the morning together before she left to go on patrol with his mother, but there has been a disruption by 3 foxes. As they fought, Swiftpaw got separated, and managed to alert the rest of the patrol to the position of the other two. He gravely injured one, but couldn't hold out against two. Wrensong dispatched the other two, but not before sustaining fatal injuries herself. Her last act, was to smile and stroke her son with her tail.
Eggpaw kept up a normal face, continued his tricks, and training. At night however, he would go out to the bog and wail into the night, while one other cat stood watch.
Eggpaw had met Woodpaw during a spar, and he seemed as loyal as could be. He assisted Eggpaw through his greiving, and they became close. As the moons passed, they became involved. Woodpaw wasn't the nicest of cats, and he poked at Eggpaw just as much as they poked at others.
It was the day after he sat vigil. Eggpelt was to meet his Woodstrike for the first day of their adulthood. He wasn't by the tree. He only heard some giggling before Woodstrike and some others appeared in the treetops. They all had an egg of some kind, and pelted him from above. One last call-back to the old days, it seemed.
Eggpelt let out a sound. He expected to cry. But
Since breaking up with Woodstrike, he simply goes with the flow of the day, hucking, catching up with Yewthorn or others, or bugging Ratwhisker, asking if he needs catmint. He also routinely places a flower both behind his ear to wear and at the base of an old marshland tree where he and Swiftpaw spend so much time.
Recently, he was aquatinted with an odd young warrior named Beetlenose, and while keeping track of him is tough, Eggpelt finds much to appreciate about him and enjoys their adventures.
Total word count: 1537
As he grew a bit, Eggkit had a stubborn issue with his weight. Combined the feminine traits he picked up from his single mother, and the nature of his lineage, gave him a hard time fitting in with the others. He soon got bored simply sticking around his mom, as sweet as she was, and sought the attention of his peers. He was a very serious cat at the time, trying to appear like he was a picture perfect individal, but these attempts at fitting in only wrought more friction. Wrensong was always there to comfort him.
There was one kit that especially ruthless to him, tricking him into all sorts of embarrassing moments and gullible follies. However, she was kind enough to make him laugh when he was feeling down, and soon he and Swiftkit became friends. Eggkit began to take notes of how she acted and spoke, and started finding it easier to talk to others. Swiftkit and Eggkit found themselves growing more attached, becoming a little Bonnie-and-Clyde-esque duo. Her signature move being to place a flower in by his ear to make him feel silly. And loved. A kitten's romance blossomed and together, they moved into apprenticeship. Wrensong took Swiftkit, and Yewthorn got stuck Eggkit.
Eggpaw had a pretty normal apprenticeship in the beginning. Showing signs of prowess on the hunting field, he quickly figured out he could trade extra hunted food for small favors, and employed this technique so that he can and Swiftpaw could hang by the bog or rub their faces in catnip once they took care of their important responsibilites. He also got to know Yewthorn more as his initial annoyance wore off. When he asked how she always ended up with time or choice prey, Swiftpaw instructed, Kill them with kindness, that's how you win." Easier said than done, but things were good.
---
Swiftpaw had breathed her last before Eggpaw had even gotten to Ratwhisker's den. They had spent the morning together before she left to go on patrol with his mother, but there has been a disruption by 3 foxes. As they fought, Swiftpaw got separated, and managed to alert the rest of the patrol to the position of the other two. He gravely injured one, but couldn't hold out against two. Wrensong dispatched the other two, but not before sustaining fatal injuries herself. Her last act, was to smile and stroke her son with her tail.
Eggpaw kept up a normal face, continued his tricks, and training. At night however, he would go out to the bog and wail into the night, while one other cat stood watch.
Eggpaw had met Woodpaw during a spar, and he seemed as loyal as could be. He assisted Eggpaw through his greiving, and they became close. As the moons passed, they became involved. Woodpaw wasn't the nicest of cats, and he poked at Eggpaw just as much as they poked at others.
It was the day after he sat vigil. Eggpelt was to meet his Woodstrike for the first day of their adulthood. He wasn't by the tree. He only heard some giggling before Woodstrike and some others appeared in the treetops. They all had an egg of some kind, and pelted him from above. One last call-back to the old days, it seemed.
Eggpelt let out a sound. He expected to cry. But
Since breaking up with Woodstrike, he simply goes with the flow of the day, hucking, catching up with Yewthorn or others, or bugging Ratwhisker, asking if he needs catmint. He also routinely places a flower both behind his ear to wear and at the base of an old marshland tree where he and Swiftpaw spend so much time.
Recently, he was aquatinted with an odd young warrior named Beetlenose, and while keeping track of him is tough, Eggpelt finds much to appreciate about him and enjoys their adventures.
Total word count: 1537
