Post by Twistedface on Nov 12, 2012 9:25:51 GMT -5
Name(s):
Wildkit Wildpaw Twistedface
Gender:
Tom
Age:
40 moons (3 or so years)
Clan:
RiverClan
Rank:
Medicine Cat
Appearance:
When he was young and unharmed, Twistedface was a handsome cat, and without a glance at his namesake, he still is. He has a lush, fluffy coat of mixed tabby and white colors, his throat and underbelly are stark white, although also a dulled color as well are his paws. It is kept far from immaculate, often tangled with all sorts of reeds and feathers from the water foul that live around the camp- not of his doing, of course, but some joke that you can find most of his nest in his pelt on a day that he doesn't spend time picking it out. When he does groom himself, however, his coat has a very faint shine to it, mostly dull, but it retains a fluffy, soft quality to it. It is his face, as his name implies, that changes everything. His jaw, once broken, sits at an odd angle, always exposing his teeth. When paired with his once broken, and now crooked, also at an odd angle, nose, his face seems to be set in a permanent snarl.
Despite his somewhat cold personality, his bright silver eye, as the other one was lost and sits forever closed, normally holds a stern, or indifferent emotion, other than the rage his face always shows on it's own will. His ears are torn and tattered, and when paired with the rest of him, makes the tom, who is actually pretty young, seem old and gruff- but it is the over-bright, sharp slash of silver in his eye that sets the ground for this tom. For any cat that looks past his twisted, disfigured face, many can only see his eye, a deep, fathomless color of star silver, almost white, that seems to look right through you, into your very thoughts and feelings, judging you and knowing you every sinister secret that you withhold, that keeps this tom a notable cat, and not just another sitting broken in an old clan.
Personality:
In brief;
Stern
An old-soul
Cold
Short tempered
Compassionate
Faithless
--
At one time, Twistedface was like any other tom; obnoxious, egotistical and loud. After his accident, however, a new cat was born from the blood and pain. The new tom, missing an eye, his face, once more or less a shattered mess, thankfully intact, although frozen in a menacing snarl, became somewhat of an outcast. This caused him to fall into himself, still ready to jump to his defense, with a tongue as sharp as claws, and an attitude to boot.
As the years went on, he retained his sharp tongue and short temper, but became more like a wise elder than a hotheaded new warrior, a little colder towards others, but warm enough to be generally liked, if only for the compassion he could show other injured cats, kits, queens, and elders. Despite this compassion, due to his inability to be a full warrior, he became stern with apprentices- and it became well known "Don't let old Twistedface hear your complaining! He'll claw your ears off and make you run errands!" If only to try to make them better warriors.
There is one thing however that can cause some cats to stare at him- and it's not his face, nor his gaze. For his past, Twistedface does not believe in StarClan. He doesn't believe in much, actually, aside from what he can do with his own two paws, his clan, and the physical world around him. He regards StarClan as fairy tales to lull little kits to sleep at night after the older apprentices try to give them nightmares about the Dark Forest. The Dark Forest is another thing he doesn't fully believe in- ghostly cats in general seem like a myth and a joke told at gatherings once to start conversation, that eventually was just used to keep cats in line. This trait makes him a cat that follows his own heart and his own head, over what a "good cat" trying to go to StarClan would do, a but no less loose with rules on a normal basis, although he sees many of them as useless and idiotic rules.
History:
Wildkit was named so for his wild, untamed looking silver eyes, and his bush of fluffy, tabby fur. He looked like a little striped lion with eyes pulled right from Silver Pelt. He lived up to his name, as he and his brother, Ghostkit, with equally pale eyes but a much shorter, lighter pelt, battled for supremacy in the nursery. Wildkit was bigger, however, than his petite brother, and very soon the two had realized that Wildkit would be the more powerful of the two, and dangerous in battle.
They entered apprenticeship, excited as any apprentices would be, and threw themselves into training with abandon. The nursery proved true, as Wildkit was praised for his strength, but in the open, older now and getting control of his long, spider-like legs, Ghostpaw was as fast as the current in the river after a greenleaf storm. As their roles were established, the rivalry between the two grew more and more intense, and it was often that warriors were peeling the two brothers, hissing and spitting, apart. For this, the two were always, when not training, on some form of errands- clean the elder's den, clean the nursery, help the medicine cat- they hated it, but it never stopped their fighting.
One evening, the pair were out hunting, and their typical bickering began, first light banter, and then it turned into a full scale fight. Ghostpaw lashed out first, and his claws made swift work of Wildpaw's right eye. In pain and bleeding, wailing and snarling, he attacked his brother. The two tumbled right into the swiftly flowing river, and were sucked under the water by the current, still latched to each other, claws buried deep and snapping at each other's faces, throats, and necks. It came to a bitter end however when they reached a rocky area. Wildpaw broke the surface, although Ghostpaw never did, and continued downstream at a breakneck pace, only to slam into a jagged rock face first. He instantly lost consciousness, and was later rescued by a RiverClan patrol.
It was a while yet until he woke up, half blind, and in agony. When he was fully came to, he was informed that Ghostpaw had gotten stuck under the water, snagged on a submerged branch, and drowned. Wildpaw had broken his jaw, and damaged most of his face. He was swamped with guilt for many moons, and it aged him beyond his years, such a severe depression that he hardly budged when he was warned that he would be delayed in his warrior ceremony, and that if he was to ever be a warrior, and not immediately retired, he would be a coddled one, out of fear that he would be a hazard for his missing eye. When his warrior ceremony finally did come, it was bittersweet, for not only should have he have been Wildstream, or Wildcurrent, and instead became Twistedface, reminding him of the accident, and his self blame for his brother's death, but he should have been sitting next to his dear, although temperamental brother, Ghostep, or Ghostscream... something of the like. He was now alone, a disfigured tom with a name as such hanging over his head.
Characters:
Fallenstar
Morningcloud
Fitch
Twistedface
Gender:
Tom
Age:
40 moons (3 or so years)
Clan:
RiverClan
Rank:
Medicine Cat
Appearance:
When he was young and unharmed, Twistedface was a handsome cat, and without a glance at his namesake, he still is. He has a lush, fluffy coat of mixed tabby and white colors, his throat and underbelly are stark white, although also a dulled color as well are his paws. It is kept far from immaculate, often tangled with all sorts of reeds and feathers from the water foul that live around the camp- not of his doing, of course, but some joke that you can find most of his nest in his pelt on a day that he doesn't spend time picking it out. When he does groom himself, however, his coat has a very faint shine to it, mostly dull, but it retains a fluffy, soft quality to it. It is his face, as his name implies, that changes everything. His jaw, once broken, sits at an odd angle, always exposing his teeth. When paired with his once broken, and now crooked, also at an odd angle, nose, his face seems to be set in a permanent snarl.
Despite his somewhat cold personality, his bright silver eye, as the other one was lost and sits forever closed, normally holds a stern, or indifferent emotion, other than the rage his face always shows on it's own will. His ears are torn and tattered, and when paired with the rest of him, makes the tom, who is actually pretty young, seem old and gruff- but it is the over-bright, sharp slash of silver in his eye that sets the ground for this tom. For any cat that looks past his twisted, disfigured face, many can only see his eye, a deep, fathomless color of star silver, almost white, that seems to look right through you, into your very thoughts and feelings, judging you and knowing you every sinister secret that you withhold, that keeps this tom a notable cat, and not just another sitting broken in an old clan.
Personality:
In brief;
Stern
An old-soul
Cold
Short tempered
Compassionate
Faithless
--
At one time, Twistedface was like any other tom; obnoxious, egotistical and loud. After his accident, however, a new cat was born from the blood and pain. The new tom, missing an eye, his face, once more or less a shattered mess, thankfully intact, although frozen in a menacing snarl, became somewhat of an outcast. This caused him to fall into himself, still ready to jump to his defense, with a tongue as sharp as claws, and an attitude to boot.
As the years went on, he retained his sharp tongue and short temper, but became more like a wise elder than a hotheaded new warrior, a little colder towards others, but warm enough to be generally liked, if only for the compassion he could show other injured cats, kits, queens, and elders. Despite this compassion, due to his inability to be a full warrior, he became stern with apprentices- and it became well known "Don't let old Twistedface hear your complaining! He'll claw your ears off and make you run errands!" If only to try to make them better warriors.
There is one thing however that can cause some cats to stare at him- and it's not his face, nor his gaze. For his past, Twistedface does not believe in StarClan. He doesn't believe in much, actually, aside from what he can do with his own two paws, his clan, and the physical world around him. He regards StarClan as fairy tales to lull little kits to sleep at night after the older apprentices try to give them nightmares about the Dark Forest. The Dark Forest is another thing he doesn't fully believe in- ghostly cats in general seem like a myth and a joke told at gatherings once to start conversation, that eventually was just used to keep cats in line. This trait makes him a cat that follows his own heart and his own head, over what a "good cat" trying to go to StarClan would do, a but no less loose with rules on a normal basis, although he sees many of them as useless and idiotic rules.
History:
Wildkit was named so for his wild, untamed looking silver eyes, and his bush of fluffy, tabby fur. He looked like a little striped lion with eyes pulled right from Silver Pelt. He lived up to his name, as he and his brother, Ghostkit, with equally pale eyes but a much shorter, lighter pelt, battled for supremacy in the nursery. Wildkit was bigger, however, than his petite brother, and very soon the two had realized that Wildkit would be the more powerful of the two, and dangerous in battle.
They entered apprenticeship, excited as any apprentices would be, and threw themselves into training with abandon. The nursery proved true, as Wildkit was praised for his strength, but in the open, older now and getting control of his long, spider-like legs, Ghostpaw was as fast as the current in the river after a greenleaf storm. As their roles were established, the rivalry between the two grew more and more intense, and it was often that warriors were peeling the two brothers, hissing and spitting, apart. For this, the two were always, when not training, on some form of errands- clean the elder's den, clean the nursery, help the medicine cat- they hated it, but it never stopped their fighting.
One evening, the pair were out hunting, and their typical bickering began, first light banter, and then it turned into a full scale fight. Ghostpaw lashed out first, and his claws made swift work of Wildpaw's right eye. In pain and bleeding, wailing and snarling, he attacked his brother. The two tumbled right into the swiftly flowing river, and were sucked under the water by the current, still latched to each other, claws buried deep and snapping at each other's faces, throats, and necks. It came to a bitter end however when they reached a rocky area. Wildpaw broke the surface, although Ghostpaw never did, and continued downstream at a breakneck pace, only to slam into a jagged rock face first. He instantly lost consciousness, and was later rescued by a RiverClan patrol.
It was a while yet until he woke up, half blind, and in agony. When he was fully came to, he was informed that Ghostpaw had gotten stuck under the water, snagged on a submerged branch, and drowned. Wildpaw had broken his jaw, and damaged most of his face. He was swamped with guilt for many moons, and it aged him beyond his years, such a severe depression that he hardly budged when he was warned that he would be delayed in his warrior ceremony, and that if he was to ever be a warrior, and not immediately retired, he would be a coddled one, out of fear that he would be a hazard for his missing eye. When his warrior ceremony finally did come, it was bittersweet, for not only should have he have been Wildstream, or Wildcurrent, and instead became Twistedface, reminding him of the accident, and his self blame for his brother's death, but he should have been sitting next to his dear, although temperamental brother, Ghostep, or Ghostscream... something of the like. He was now alone, a disfigured tom with a name as such hanging over his head.
Characters:
Fallenstar
Morningcloud
Fitch
Twistedface