Post by buzz on Jan 5, 2024 18:16:52 GMT -6
SMALLSTORM
THISTLECLAN
compact, solid black molly with moon-yellow eyes
warrior
she/her
36 moons
Appearance
Smallstorm stands shorter than most, a resemblance to her name as one would assume. Her tiny, slender build does not fully betray the strength in her muscles, though in the light they display under her thick pelt. It’s clear she’s in prime condition and puts a lot of careful work into her appearance, with rigid posture and a proud gait.
Her fur is inky all around, a heavy cloak that has a nearly shaggy appearance to it. It serves as a warm coat during the leafbare, thinning out to allow her a minimum tolerance of the greenleaf heat. In between the splits in the strands, a dusky brown tint can be seen, her fur becoming less silky and fuzzier the closer to her skin it gets.
Standing out against her pelt, her bright yellow eyes shine. That, and a confident, square jaw often clenched in annoyance is what many cats see first about her.
Her fur is inky all around, a heavy cloak that has a nearly shaggy appearance to it. It serves as a warm coat during the leafbare, thinning out to allow her a minimum tolerance of the greenleaf heat. In between the splits in the strands, a dusky brown tint can be seen, her fur becoming less silky and fuzzier the closer to her skin it gets.
Standing out against her pelt, her bright yellow eyes shine. That, and a confident, square jaw often clenched in annoyance is what many cats see first about her.
Personality
Throughout her entire life, Smallstorm’s ambition has driven her. It has led her through every loss she’s experienced, plowing through the grief of it all. When she’s at her lowest, she is looking towards something grandiose to accomplish, using goals as a crutch. Her clanmates know she is dependable when it comes to the physical world; when she says she will catch something, it doesn’t matter if she returns to her nest at midnight, she will have prey in her jaws at the end of it.
A history of pranking others with her brother as an apprentice has been carried with her through her adulthood. Instead of using her intelligence on drawing others into goofy shenanigans, however, she’s matured it into being inventive. Smallstorm’s devotion forces her to look at things through many perspectives, and even though she has a cold, unbudging demeanor, she often arrives at unique conclusions.
The cats who have been in her life since kithood have since been locked in as the only cats she trusts, and few others can worm their way into her good graces. She distrusts most of her peers. Though they can rely on her, she often doesn’t feel the same of them and will often base her opinions around small details that she can swivel to be in favor of her avoiding them.
Smallstorm is avoided by many who know how she behaves and her temper now, but to those who stay around she is still volatile and can lash out if someone says the wrong thing. She holds many scathing insults behind her teeth, and is prepared to unleash them upon any poor passerby if they do something she even slightly doesn’t like.
History
The ground was still drying from the flood that wreacked havoc in ThistleClan when Smallkit and her brother, Tornkit, is born. Their parents, Gustpelt and Petalshadow, excitedly welcome them to the world, with their community hopeful for the addition to their numbers after so much had happened. A light in the darkness of devastation, their lives are full of love.
Smallkit is raised to wear her heritage with pride by her father, instilling in her a desire to step up one day and become leader like her ancestor Graystar. She has naive dreams of becoming the best warrior of the islands, investing her long amounts of free time in pretending to duel her brother and engaging other denmates in tussles. As the days swing closer to her apprenticeship, she awaits eagerly to see the expansion to her life beyond the nursery, believing she will excel as she was already getting in good practice.
On her sixth moon, Smallpaw is overjoyed to be assigned Thievingstar as her mentor. She throws herself into her training with a need to make her teacher proud. Because of her devotion and willingness to work, she builds a strong bond with Thievingstar. Tornpaw, on the other hand, enjoys carrying his nursery pranks to the apprentice den, and Smallpaw allows him to drag her into these jokes. She struggles internally with guilt at slacking off during these times and upsetting her denmates.
Yet her dedication perserveres, and Tornpaw sees her victorious in multiple spars. She hones her skills over the rogue invasion of ThistleClan’s camp. She misses no marks. Smallpaw puts her all in, and yet, everything changes for her.
Yet, Petalshadow is killed.
Smallpaw does not fall back on anyone for comfort, instead, the rift that had been pulling her from Tornpaw is highlighted now as she blames herself for not being able to save her mother. On the cusp of becoming a warrior, she requests Thievingstar delays her ceremony in order to give her time to grieve. She rids it of her system, at least what she thinks is entirely, and then returns to training to get her name in her thirteenth moon.
Ashamed of becoming a warrior late despite the extenuating circumstances, Smallstorm continues to push herself in every aspect of her life. She does not look at a molly or tom for love, barely looks at anyone else at all as her tunnel vision narrows in on glory. Knowing Petalshadow watches her from the stars, she aims for the sky, trying to become ThistleClan’s greatest weapon in order to stop her loved ones from becoming hurt again.
Her avoidance of her brother becomes exasperation and resentfulness before she can even pinpoint why. As the list of what seems like a million different denmates spills from his mouth, she finds herself distanced from the love she felt for her kin. They did not know eachother anymore, and it’s all too easy to blame him for the mostly silent falling out they’ve experienced.
Life strikes while she’s still down.
The grief begins to fully lift off her chest, even the part of it nestled deep within her brain, as she takes a patrol with Thievingstar one day. When they hears the yowl of injury and battle from their camp, Smallstorm rushes back, prepared to fight. Prepared to win this time. As they were swarmed, Smallstorm is seperated from Thievingstar in the battle, the last moments she’d ever have with her role model as she was killed by another rogue. Numbly, Smallstorm watches as Stagstar rises in turn. She does not congratulate the new leader.
Her condition wavers, the exertion she burdens herself with getting her landed in the medicine den for several small conditions. Afraid to wear out the herb stores, she reluctantly paces herself better, but her mind is still plagued with the need to be perfect.
It pays off… and death takes again. The Great War comes upon ThistleClan afterwards, and she battles the rogues alongside her father. They pair against a rogue, and Smallstorm is confident they’ll win, both of them having much experience. However, their opponent is quicker, smarter, and Gustpelt is killed in front of her eyes. Overcome with fury, the third loss to a rogue, she murders the rogue who landed the final blow brutally.
With blood in her mouth and revenge in her eyes, Smallstorm knows she should feel powerful knowing she did at least one thing to get back at her greatest enemies. But instead, she feels tiny in the world, pathetic for being unable to stop the deaths of those closest to her.
Tornpelt reaches out, and to her own surprise, Smallstorm allows him to comfort her afterwards. In the darkness her life had been, a glimmer of hope that maybe they’d be close again. It allows her to carry herself through the healing process halfway, supported by her brother. But he dips back into his jester role with his denmates, and she grows cold again as the air around her.
Restless, she paces camp endlessly when the blizzard strikes. Confined to her tunnel, it feels like Smallstorm is being forced by fate to rest. She unwillingly obeys commands to remain in camp, wanting to stay active and provide for her clanmates, but not brave enough to face the weather outside. Stewing in her self-angled loathing, she lingers and lingers on the war.
New-leaf melts away the blizzard’s damage, and Smallstorm makes up for lost time outside of camp by staying in the territory as much as possible, scouting, hunting and practicing. The moments are fleeting, however, when ThistleClan is struck by a powerful flood that forces them from the home they’ve been confined to in leafbare. Smallstorm travels with the rest of the Clan to the Bear Stones, refusing to speak to her brother or buy in to any of his concerns.
She is noticably antsy and on guard as the warmer seasons unrelentingly bar them from returning home. Having shrugged off the larger portion of any lingering friends she’d managed to keep, Smallstorm feels the same heavy cloud of loss begin to fog over her life, casting every day in an apprehensive, long shadow. It surmounts as the tensions begin to pull taut in thick, heavy ropes, and she prepares for the next big loss, steeling herself for the inevitable fight to break out as the Bear Stones’ safety is threatened.
Smallkit is raised to wear her heritage with pride by her father, instilling in her a desire to step up one day and become leader like her ancestor Graystar. She has naive dreams of becoming the best warrior of the islands, investing her long amounts of free time in pretending to duel her brother and engaging other denmates in tussles. As the days swing closer to her apprenticeship, she awaits eagerly to see the expansion to her life beyond the nursery, believing she will excel as she was already getting in good practice.
On her sixth moon, Smallpaw is overjoyed to be assigned Thievingstar as her mentor. She throws herself into her training with a need to make her teacher proud. Because of her devotion and willingness to work, she builds a strong bond with Thievingstar. Tornpaw, on the other hand, enjoys carrying his nursery pranks to the apprentice den, and Smallpaw allows him to drag her into these jokes. She struggles internally with guilt at slacking off during these times and upsetting her denmates.
Yet her dedication perserveres, and Tornpaw sees her victorious in multiple spars. She hones her skills over the rogue invasion of ThistleClan’s camp. She misses no marks. Smallpaw puts her all in, and yet, everything changes for her.
Yet, Petalshadow is killed.
Smallpaw does not fall back on anyone for comfort, instead, the rift that had been pulling her from Tornpaw is highlighted now as she blames herself for not being able to save her mother. On the cusp of becoming a warrior, she requests Thievingstar delays her ceremony in order to give her time to grieve. She rids it of her system, at least what she thinks is entirely, and then returns to training to get her name in her thirteenth moon.
Ashamed of becoming a warrior late despite the extenuating circumstances, Smallstorm continues to push herself in every aspect of her life. She does not look at a molly or tom for love, barely looks at anyone else at all as her tunnel vision narrows in on glory. Knowing Petalshadow watches her from the stars, she aims for the sky, trying to become ThistleClan’s greatest weapon in order to stop her loved ones from becoming hurt again.
Her avoidance of her brother becomes exasperation and resentfulness before she can even pinpoint why. As the list of what seems like a million different denmates spills from his mouth, she finds herself distanced from the love she felt for her kin. They did not know eachother anymore, and it’s all too easy to blame him for the mostly silent falling out they’ve experienced.
Life strikes while she’s still down.
The grief begins to fully lift off her chest, even the part of it nestled deep within her brain, as she takes a patrol with Thievingstar one day. When they hears the yowl of injury and battle from their camp, Smallstorm rushes back, prepared to fight. Prepared to win this time. As they were swarmed, Smallstorm is seperated from Thievingstar in the battle, the last moments she’d ever have with her role model as she was killed by another rogue. Numbly, Smallstorm watches as Stagstar rises in turn. She does not congratulate the new leader.
Her condition wavers, the exertion she burdens herself with getting her landed in the medicine den for several small conditions. Afraid to wear out the herb stores, she reluctantly paces herself better, but her mind is still plagued with the need to be perfect.
It pays off… and death takes again. The Great War comes upon ThistleClan afterwards, and she battles the rogues alongside her father. They pair against a rogue, and Smallstorm is confident they’ll win, both of them having much experience. However, their opponent is quicker, smarter, and Gustpelt is killed in front of her eyes. Overcome with fury, the third loss to a rogue, she murders the rogue who landed the final blow brutally.
With blood in her mouth and revenge in her eyes, Smallstorm knows she should feel powerful knowing she did at least one thing to get back at her greatest enemies. But instead, she feels tiny in the world, pathetic for being unable to stop the deaths of those closest to her.
Tornpelt reaches out, and to her own surprise, Smallstorm allows him to comfort her afterwards. In the darkness her life had been, a glimmer of hope that maybe they’d be close again. It allows her to carry herself through the healing process halfway, supported by her brother. But he dips back into his jester role with his denmates, and she grows cold again as the air around her.
Restless, she paces camp endlessly when the blizzard strikes. Confined to her tunnel, it feels like Smallstorm is being forced by fate to rest. She unwillingly obeys commands to remain in camp, wanting to stay active and provide for her clanmates, but not brave enough to face the weather outside. Stewing in her self-angled loathing, she lingers and lingers on the war.
New-leaf melts away the blizzard’s damage, and Smallstorm makes up for lost time outside of camp by staying in the territory as much as possible, scouting, hunting and practicing. The moments are fleeting, however, when ThistleClan is struck by a powerful flood that forces them from the home they’ve been confined to in leafbare. Smallstorm travels with the rest of the Clan to the Bear Stones, refusing to speak to her brother or buy in to any of his concerns.
She is noticably antsy and on guard as the warmer seasons unrelentingly bar them from returning home. Having shrugged off the larger portion of any lingering friends she’d managed to keep, Smallstorm feels the same heavy cloud of loss begin to fog over her life, casting every day in an apprehensive, long shadow. It surmounts as the tensions begin to pull taut in thick, heavy ropes, and she prepares for the next big loss, steeling herself for the inevitable fight to break out as the Bear Stones’ safety is threatened.
