Post by c a n n a on Jun 30, 2024 9:01:13 GMT -6
campionclaw
thistleclan
Dingy, white longhair she-cat with yellow-green eyes.
warrior
she-cat
18 moons
Appearance
Campionclaw doesn't care about her appearance, finding her focus on other... things. Long fur that was once a silky white has long since been tarnished with the grime that comes with every day life in the wild. Instead, blood, grease, and mud, has painted Campionclaw with a dingy eggshell color that's not quite brown but nowhere near white. Ignoring the many mats that line the Molly's chest, tummy, and tail, it's clear by the angles of Campionclaw's face that she was once a striking cat. Tear stains and crust tinge the corners of what was once bright, yellow-green eyes. Scars that arent allowed to heal crisscross along her long wedge shaped muzzle, while nicked, long pointy ears rest on her triangle shaped head. Obsessed with trading claws, the molly would be covered in scars if it wasn't for her thick, matted fur. Outside of her bright appearance, Campionclaw doesn't stand out much beside her stocky clanmates, her long legs making her only slightly taller than the average ThistleClan cat.
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Personality
Persevering: Like pure, unbridled energy, Campionclaw can’t be stopped or altered, of course unless acted upon by another force. Yet, even in the face of opposite forces, Campionclaw isn’t one to step back or back down. If anything, the intense molly enjoys each and every challenge life throws her way, she welcomes it. Born with a coat as white as snow, Campionclaw didn't let bullying or challenges in hunting stop her. Instead, her coat is tainted from moons of using mud to her advantage. And when her pathetic father couldn't stand the life of a warrior anymore, Campionclaw acknowledged the weakness her clanmates saw in her and strove to prove them all wrong at any cost. The dirty she-cat doesn't care about what others think of her, stopping at nothing to achieve only one goal. Pleasure.
Adaptable: Campionclaw will do anything for a good fight. A lust for bloodshed has carved a molly who doesn't mind bending or stretching herself to fit into a certain circumstance. In an instant, Campionclaw can become a yes man if it means she gets to fight afterward, or a secret agent as long as there's a guarantee of her being attacked. Lacking any true morals or boundaries of her own, it’s extremely easy for Campionclaw to morph into whatever role serves her pleasures best.
Easygoing: Despite the lengths she’s willing to go to just to feel claws in her flesh, Campionclaw has a relaxed and tolerant demeanor, finding that she isn't really bothered by much. Emotions are a rare thing for the molly, usually straddling between moments of glee and more often than not, boredom. She is far from a turbulent cat, lacking in anger or sadness, she’s content with herself and her surroundings. If it wasn’t for her violent interests, Campionclaw’s laid back attitude would make for a cat who is extremely easy to get along with.
Spacey: Reality? Campionclaw doesn't know her. The strange molly spends most of her time in her head, fantasizing about the pleasure that fighting gives her. Seeing as that's the only thing she enjoys thinking about, Campionclaw can come off as air-headed, ditzy, or just dumb when it comes to matters that have nothing to do with claws. As if she was high on catmint at all moments, Campionclaw talks as if she is in a trance or dream sequence and her unserious way of speaking is often punctuated with misplaced laughter. Interacting with others has never been something she’s good at, and just like with most things outside of combat, Campionclaw shows no interest in remedying her awkward ways.
Eccentric: It goes without saying that Campionclaw is quite the strange feline. From the moment she first began processing things, the kit was well aware that something was off with her. She couldn't relate to anyone, not kits her age nor admirable warriors. Her keen interest in violence is unconventional in every way, and she's well known for her strange beliefs, or rather lack thereof. Campionclaw has never once understood any rule or convention and therefore exists in a realm out of the ordinary.
Obsessive: Campionclaw is obsessed with fighting, so much so that it's often times the only thing she cares to think about. Nothing makes her feel more than the feeling of claws raking through her flesh. Fighting makes her feel alive. Absolutely entranced with the addicting feeling, Campionclaw can completely black out in moments of overwhelming pleasure. Her lust takes over, and suddenly she can’t hold back anymore. A complete monster on the battlefield, Campionclaw doesn't really care who she fights, kits, apprentices, warriors, elders, so long as they can fight back. For it isn't the act of hurting others that excites her most, but rather the hurt she feels herself. Campionclaw already sticks out in her clan with her strange demeanor and bright coat, but she finds even more separation in the fighting style her obsession has created. She isn’t at all clever, and isn’t one to go for her opponents' vitals. She toys with her enemies, knowing she can't get what she wants if her opponent is dead.
Insensitive: Apathetic and detached, Campionclaw shows little to no concern for the life or feelings of anyone outside herself. Empathy has never come easy to her and it's something she actively struggles with. She definitely doesn't wish Ill on her clanmates, in fact, she doesn’t really feel hate either. Campionclaw operates from a genuine lack of interest in anything that doesn't have to do with combat. Completely unempathetic, the weird molly is known to laugh off serious situations, of course if she isn't ignoring said situation completely.
Amoral: Campionclaw has never once fathomed the difference between write and wrong, doing as she pleases with little care towards the beliefs of others. Sordid in behavior, Campionclaw lacks any true moral sense and isn’t beyond committing actions that others would see as ignoble or distasteful. Stealing, cheating, killing are all just actions to her. The same way that eating, resting, and making dirt are just actions. Unable to empathize with others, the only thing that does stop her from doing whatever she wants is authority.
History
0 - 6 Moons
Childhood friends turned lovers, Swansong and Stonestrike were quick to consummate their love and even quicker to bring life into the world. A naturally passive tom, a family was all Swansong ever hoped for. He prayed for a kit who shared his warmth and who was as eager as he was to spread that warmth throughout ThistleClan. Instead, the family would receive a clear omen of what was to come.
—
Only one kit would come on that treacherous stormy day, a she kit who was as white as the snow that threatened to trap the entire clan. It would've been easier to call the little thing Snowkit, Icekit, or Blizzardkit. Swansong however, had a new leaf on the mind, insisting they name their little angel after a flower. He didn't want his only child to be foreboding like a blizzard or as frigid as ice, no. His daughter would be as beautiful as a new leaf flower. Campionkit they decided.
—
Campionkit would never grow into that name, always more concerned with rough housing or making an absolute mess out of her pelt. There was something wrong with her, but Campionkit could hardly fathom it. She didn't care that she struggled to make any connection with her peers, nor did she care when she got scolded by her parents or other warriors. She struggled to grasp any rule laid before her, not understanding why there were rules in the first place. And certainly not understanding what made rules so bad to break.
—
When the snow disappeared, the only thing left in its place was water. Campionkit doesn't remember much about the flood, her family quick to take advantage of the truce laid out between all the clans. The Bear Stones wasn't there home but it would work. Of course Campionkit cared little, the change in her surroundings had nothing to do with the innerworld she usually retreated to.
—
The only thing Campionkit remembers about the flood is that one sunny morning. Waking up to her distraught mother, Campionclaw remembered how weird it was to see her normally stoic mother rife with emotions. Doing what she could to stifle her sobs of anger, Stonestrike told her daughter the truth. ”Your father’s a traitor. He’s gone.” Campionclaw remembers the feeling she felt then clearly. Or rather she remembers the lack of anything that she felt. Queens and warriors alike hovered over her for moons, wishing their condolences or good riddances. ”You must feel so betrayed,” they would say. In truth. Campionkit felt nothing.
—
Stonestrike was already a rigid warrior, but after the disappearance of Swansong, her mother detached completely from everyone. ”They think us weak,” her mom would growl on her sixth moon. ”They think we’ll leave like your pathetic father. We will prove them wrong.”
From that moment onward, Campionkit and her mother only had one goal. Prove to ThistleClan that they weren't afraid to be so close to RedwoodClan. Prove that they feared nothing. Prove that they should be respected, feared even.
Oddly enough, it was easy for Campionkit to care about that. She didn't necessarily care to be respected, but training came easy to her, and she felt the closest she ever felt to anyone during her mother's training sessions. For the first time in her short life, Campionkit felt something.
6 - 12 Moons
With ThistleClan forced so close to RedwoodClan territory, it became everyone's priority to make sure that they were ready for anything. Without a camp of their own, they could be attacked at any moment. So when Campionpaw was named the deputy as her mentor, her mother Stonestrike was ecstatic.
—
Campionpaw didn't need to know the deputy that well to know that she liked Firfoot. Not only was the portly tom and his serious attitude funny, but around him, Campionpaw felt powerful. Which was way more than she had ever felt in her entire life. Majority of their time was spent learning combat moves and the best way to win in the case of a possible RedwoodClan invasion. Even if the young Molly didn't exactly grasp why they had to worry about RedwoodClan, she did get that being strong in ThistleClan meant everything.
—
As the moons went on and her training remained the same, Campionpaw started to get addicted to the feeling. Most days she was just numb. She was just there in her own little world. But when she was training with Firfoot or challenging her older peers, she noted the sheer joy that filled her hollow heart and gave her passion. She only felt present when in the midst of combat.
12 - 18 Moons
While she wasn't really a talented fighter, Campionpaw was capable and that was enough to earn her a warrior name in due time. With her passion for fighting, she was named Campionclaw without much thought. Beside her peers, she carved out a den and was christened a warrior. Much like her, her nest was shallow.
—-
Having lived along the bearstones for most of her life, Campionclaw wasn't exactly distraught to see that what supposedly was their original camp was uninhabitable. This was fine for her. Especially when she found out what this meant for their clan. With nowhere else to go, ThistleClan would have to fight for a place to call home. And fight they did. Campionclaw was diligent when it came to defending their makeshift camp during a midnight invasion. And when the time came to retaliate, Campionclaw stood at the Frontline with a smile. Training with her mother or Firfoot was one thing. But she has finally experienced the real thing. By the end of the respective invasions, the white molly was littered with scars, blood, and bruises. But something kept her away from the medicine cat den. The battlefield awakened within her feelings that she would soon become obsessed with. The feeling of fear was thrilling and the pain that came with said fear was exhilarating. Apathetic to most things, to feel fear felt brand new, authentic, and addicting.
—
Since her discoveries during the redwoodclan conflict, Campionclaw has actively been pursuing that feeling. Despite her ditzy demeanor, she's known for her challenges against cats she knows she doesn't stand a chance against. After intentionally crossing borders on multiple occasions and purposely causing conflict in moments of truce, the troublesome feline has been banned from events such as the gathering. But much like with anything, Campionclaw cares little.
—
Campionclaw celebrates the promotion of her former mentor. She didn't really have any feelings about Stagstar, but she knows she loves Firfoot and she’ll do anything to support him.
—
When Stonestrike dies of unknown causes, Campionclaw isn't able to place the odd feeling she feels. It isn't like the joy she feels in the battle, the fear that inspires her. Not is it the numbness that plagues her on a day to day. She doesn't know that it's loneliness that she feels. A yearning for a connection that she really only had with her mother. While consciously, Campionclaw spends her current days gleefully serving Firstar, subconsciously, she yearns for something that isn't as trivial.
Childhood friends turned lovers, Swansong and Stonestrike were quick to consummate their love and even quicker to bring life into the world. A naturally passive tom, a family was all Swansong ever hoped for. He prayed for a kit who shared his warmth and who was as eager as he was to spread that warmth throughout ThistleClan. Instead, the family would receive a clear omen of what was to come.
—
Only one kit would come on that treacherous stormy day, a she kit who was as white as the snow that threatened to trap the entire clan. It would've been easier to call the little thing Snowkit, Icekit, or Blizzardkit. Swansong however, had a new leaf on the mind, insisting they name their little angel after a flower. He didn't want his only child to be foreboding like a blizzard or as frigid as ice, no. His daughter would be as beautiful as a new leaf flower. Campionkit they decided.
—
Campionkit would never grow into that name, always more concerned with rough housing or making an absolute mess out of her pelt. There was something wrong with her, but Campionkit could hardly fathom it. She didn't care that she struggled to make any connection with her peers, nor did she care when she got scolded by her parents or other warriors. She struggled to grasp any rule laid before her, not understanding why there were rules in the first place. And certainly not understanding what made rules so bad to break.
—
When the snow disappeared, the only thing left in its place was water. Campionkit doesn't remember much about the flood, her family quick to take advantage of the truce laid out between all the clans. The Bear Stones wasn't there home but it would work. Of course Campionkit cared little, the change in her surroundings had nothing to do with the innerworld she usually retreated to.
—
The only thing Campionkit remembers about the flood is that one sunny morning. Waking up to her distraught mother, Campionclaw remembered how weird it was to see her normally stoic mother rife with emotions. Doing what she could to stifle her sobs of anger, Stonestrike told her daughter the truth. ”Your father’s a traitor. He’s gone.” Campionclaw remembers the feeling she felt then clearly. Or rather she remembers the lack of anything that she felt. Queens and warriors alike hovered over her for moons, wishing their condolences or good riddances. ”You must feel so betrayed,” they would say. In truth. Campionkit felt nothing.
—
Stonestrike was already a rigid warrior, but after the disappearance of Swansong, her mother detached completely from everyone. ”They think us weak,” her mom would growl on her sixth moon. ”They think we’ll leave like your pathetic father. We will prove them wrong.”
From that moment onward, Campionkit and her mother only had one goal. Prove to ThistleClan that they weren't afraid to be so close to RedwoodClan. Prove that they feared nothing. Prove that they should be respected, feared even.
Oddly enough, it was easy for Campionkit to care about that. She didn't necessarily care to be respected, but training came easy to her, and she felt the closest she ever felt to anyone during her mother's training sessions. For the first time in her short life, Campionkit felt something.
6 - 12 Moons
With ThistleClan forced so close to RedwoodClan territory, it became everyone's priority to make sure that they were ready for anything. Without a camp of their own, they could be attacked at any moment. So when Campionpaw was named the deputy as her mentor, her mother Stonestrike was ecstatic.
—
Campionpaw didn't need to know the deputy that well to know that she liked Firfoot. Not only was the portly tom and his serious attitude funny, but around him, Campionpaw felt powerful. Which was way more than she had ever felt in her entire life. Majority of their time was spent learning combat moves and the best way to win in the case of a possible RedwoodClan invasion. Even if the young Molly didn't exactly grasp why they had to worry about RedwoodClan, she did get that being strong in ThistleClan meant everything.
—
As the moons went on and her training remained the same, Campionpaw started to get addicted to the feeling. Most days she was just numb. She was just there in her own little world. But when she was training with Firfoot or challenging her older peers, she noted the sheer joy that filled her hollow heart and gave her passion. She only felt present when in the midst of combat.
12 - 18 Moons
While she wasn't really a talented fighter, Campionpaw was capable and that was enough to earn her a warrior name in due time. With her passion for fighting, she was named Campionclaw without much thought. Beside her peers, she carved out a den and was christened a warrior. Much like her, her nest was shallow.
—-
Having lived along the bearstones for most of her life, Campionclaw wasn't exactly distraught to see that what supposedly was their original camp was uninhabitable. This was fine for her. Especially when she found out what this meant for their clan. With nowhere else to go, ThistleClan would have to fight for a place to call home. And fight they did. Campionclaw was diligent when it came to defending their makeshift camp during a midnight invasion. And when the time came to retaliate, Campionclaw stood at the Frontline with a smile. Training with her mother or Firfoot was one thing. But she has finally experienced the real thing. By the end of the respective invasions, the white molly was littered with scars, blood, and bruises. But something kept her away from the medicine cat den. The battlefield awakened within her feelings that she would soon become obsessed with. The feeling of fear was thrilling and the pain that came with said fear was exhilarating. Apathetic to most things, to feel fear felt brand new, authentic, and addicting.
—
Since her discoveries during the redwoodclan conflict, Campionclaw has actively been pursuing that feeling. Despite her ditzy demeanor, she's known for her challenges against cats she knows she doesn't stand a chance against. After intentionally crossing borders on multiple occasions and purposely causing conflict in moments of truce, the troublesome feline has been banned from events such as the gathering. But much like with anything, Campionclaw cares little.
—
Campionclaw celebrates the promotion of her former mentor. She didn't really have any feelings about Stagstar, but she knows she loves Firfoot and she’ll do anything to support him.
—
When Stonestrike dies of unknown causes, Campionclaw isn't able to place the odd feeling she feels. It isn't like the joy she feels in the battle, the fear that inspires her. Not is it the numbness that plagues her on a day to day. She doesn't know that it's loneliness that she feels. A yearning for a connection that she really only had with her mother. While consciously, Campionclaw spends her current days gleefully serving Firstar, subconsciously, she yearns for something that isn't as trivial.
