Post by |Morn| on Jul 5, 2015 16:40:00 GMT -5
Waspfang - FireClan Warrior
"Now the past I've tried forgetting, and my foes I could forgive, trouble is, I knows it's petty, but I hate to let them live"
Age:
22 Moons
Gender:
Tom
Rank:
Warrior
Former Mentor:
Flamepelt
Family Tree:
Gingerleap + Buzzardnose || Quailblaze + Tigerpelt
Description:
Waspfang is a lanky, mottled red and black tabby tom with bright, sharp green eyes and darker paws. He is skinny with long limbs - a common FireClan trait - and a long tail. He is tall, but not too heavy-built, and moves very smoothly - akin to a snake. His fur is wiry and usually kept neat.
Personality:
He is sarcastic and can be provoking, and tends to shy away from violence, always preferring a battle of wits; however, he can easily hold his own and is of an average strength level for a tom. He isn't easily angered, but can be annoyed, and has an intolerance for stupidity. While he despises the idea of having a mate that he must put all of his attention and care into, he does want several litters of kits and aspires to have his "legacy" live on. He is convinced he is more cunning and important than other cats, and could easily lead a Clan that would be greatly successful, but is very loyal and does not typically voice his opinions directly.
Strengths:
Clever
Swift
Loyal
Patient
Physically Strong
Weaknesses:
Easily Annoyed
Intolerant
Distrusting
Sarcastic
Very Conceited
History:
In the heat of the desert, a Clan thrives with skill many others do not possess. Quick as the wind, sharp as a cactus, and brave as the largest hawk, FireClan cats stand for themselves and their Clan, and are taught from the beginning to be loyal and respectable. And in kitting season, in the warmth and comfort of green-leaf, the kits play and enjoy life, knowing nothing of the bloodthirsty ways of all the Clans beyond their borders.
***
Waspkit:
The heat of day burned on Waspkit's back as he watched the few other kits play, eyes searching through the mess of cats as he allowed his thoughts to roam. He did enjoy playing, but he also enjoyed being alone sometimes, not to mention he constantly eavesdropped on the warriors. He knew more than the other kits, but he wouldn't tell them what they were saying. It would scare them, and probably give them nightmares as it had for him. What lay out in the desert past the camp? He shook his head, knowing his curiosity was getting the best of him again. He collected himself and pounced into the bundle of kits, tackling a she-kit but being pinned. "Gotcha!" She giggled. He sighed, going limp under her paws. Every time, he was pinned. Was it his fault? He was skinnier than the rest.
"When can I pin you?" He whined, getting to his paws when she got off and shaking out his fur.
"When you're as strong as me!" She boasted, yanking her head up higher and strutting off. He murmured under his breath, licking through his tail to get all of the irritating sand out.
"Waspkit, where are you?" His mother's voice echoed in his ears, and he glanced toward the nursery, spotting the gracefully tall and well-built she-cat. "There you are, come on. It's going to be dark soon." He twitched his nose in slight defiance before prodding toward her, allowing her to pick him up by his scruff and set him in the nest between her paws. She began to groom him, and he winced in slight embarrassment. He could groom himself.
"Stormflight," a deep voice meowed strongly, and Waspkit turned to spot his father, Birchstorm. "Did I see Waspkit pinned by a she-cat?" He moved over, and Waspkit wriggled from his mother's paws, puffing out his chest and lifting his chin. "My, son, don't strain yourself." The tom pushed the kit over with his paw, a judgmental eye on him.
"She-cats can be just as strong as toms," Stormflight said without meeting Birchstorm's gaze. She stretched out her paw, pulling Waspkit in again to continue licking him. "Do not be too harsh on him."
"It's your fault he's so lanky," Birchstorm snapped, snatching Waspkit from her again and setting him down roughly. The kit got to his paws, looking up at his parents. "See him? Wobbling on those thin legs. How could he ever be leader?"
"Birchstorm, that is enough!" Stormflight stood up, her expression like an angry stone, carved gently. She could not seem angry, nor look angry. She was sweet, pure. "This is your kit, I expect you to treat him as such."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, did I offend you? You're exactly right. He is my kit, therefore I will treat him as I feel necessary. You," he snorted, looking her over. "You feed him and keep him warm." And with that, he marched from the nursery, leaving the kit and his mother to their own darkened thoughts.
***
Wasp-paw:
"No, no, like this!" Wasp-paw's mentor, Firepelt, batted at nothing, then swiped with his claws. "See? You're not swiping swift enough." Wasp-paw nodded, practicing the move over and over until it was perfected. "Good, good. That's enough training for today, come on. Let's head back to camp." Firepelt led the way, the apprentice trailing after him, thinking to himself. Had he really done well? He didn't feel that way, he felt he could use more training today. Especially battle training. He sighed to himself, glancing around at all of the bustling cats.
"Firepelt!" Birchstorm raced after the other tom, and Wasp-paw's mentor stopped dead in his tracks.
"Oh, Birchstorm. I assume you're waiting for the update?" He purred in amusement, and Birchstorm rolled his eyes.
"Why else would I talk to a useless badger such as yourself? How did Wasp-paw do?" His eyes glistened with a sort of pride. It wasn't strong, but it was there, and Wasp-paw had learned to adore it. His father's approval was one thing he craved.
"Quite well," Firepelt said with a tint of hostility. "He just needs to start swiping harder. He's so skinny, I doubt he could hold his own against a she-cat!" The warrior snickered.
"And here we are again, insulting she-cats," Stormflight's smooth voice was most comforting to Wasp-paw as he turned to spot his mother. While his father caused him to be tense and alert, Stormflight tended to make him feel relaxed and accepted. "Remember that time I had to pull you out of a little stream, Firepelt? Because I sure do." She received glares from both Birchstorm and Firepelt, but neither said anything to retaliate. "Oh, Wasp-paw, you're growing so fast!" She purred and pressed her nose against his head. She was only slightly taller than him now, soon he would catch up. "I remember you being curled next to me in the nursery, sleeping away-"
"Stormflight, hush!" Birchstorm snarled, and the she-cat was taken aback. "We do not talk of his kithood, remember? He must learn to grow and get past such a silly time." He collected himself, meeting Wasp-paw's gaze evenly. "You just remember your place. Now, apprentice. Soon, warrior." He lashed his tail, preparing to walk away before stopping. "And after that, leader."
***
Waspfang:
It was a horrid day. Then again, it seemed every day of his life had been. But he would not pity himself, how low of him. Waspfang watched as the Clan sat a silent vigil for Stormflight, the rain pattering down softly and seeping into her wiry pelt. She did not look peaceful, coated in blood and twisted in such an appalling way. And yet he sat, simply... watching. Birchstorm, sitting next to him, held his head high and a stony gaze. He was shorter than Waspfang now, but heavier-set. As the cats began to part, Birchstorm turned tail and disappeared into the warrior's den, leaving Waspfang to watch as his mother's body was left alone in the center of the clearing. He did not know what to think of this. It felt numb, and although he didn't want to say he didn't care, he almost didn't. She had been a good mother, but that's all she-cats were. Mothers. And when their time came, they would have kits to live on, holding their father's strong legacies. Waspfang took this to heart - he was his father. And he would have kits and pass this on, his kits would be Waspfang, himself. He slipped into the warrior's den, making his way to his nest and bedding down for the night.
He awoke to a slight chill next to him, and noticed his father's nest was empty. Where could he have gotten to? The new warrior got to his paws, making sure his fur was neat, and padded out. It wasn't hard to spot Birchstorm, sitting in the clearing with his head hung near his paws and his ears flat. It couldn't be that he was mourning? Waspfang slowly prodded next to him, looking down upon him. "Waspfang," his father quickly got to his paws, his eyes flickering about. "I was simply paying my respects."
"Paying your respects?" Waspfang snorted, lifting his paw and watching his claws unsheathe for sheer entertainment, then sheathing them again. "To Stormflight?"
"Yes, as should you," Birchstorm spoke evenly, but with a strong tint to his voice. "She was your mother, after all."
"And that's all she was." Waspfang said immediately, leaning in with bared teeth. "You are weak. After everything you taught me, this is how you act?" Waspfang seethed, his fur bristling. "Why, I should just teach you a lesson right now. You are a kittypet."
"You are acting ridiculous, do not speak to me that way," Birchstorm snarled, his claws unsheathed and digging into the sand. "While I'm alive, I am above you."
"Above me?" Waspfang chuckled, swinging out his paw and hitting his father's head, which sent the elder tom to the ground. "You are nothing but a pathetic kittypet. I can't even call you a warrior, not ever again." Birchstorm's expression did not show shock, nor fear. It did not show the pride Waspfang once so yearned for. It showed nothing, at all. And Waspfang realized he probably looked the same way, with the same expressions and with the same dull, lifeless eyes. And it didn't bother him. It was strong to hold your emotions in, and Birchstorm had just proven to him how weak he was by mourning his 'mate'. There were no mates, there were she-cats. And when there were she-cats, there were also mothers. And even though his bond to his mother was strong, and he treated her with more kindness than any other cat in the Clan, he did not mourn her or miss her. It was her time, she was gone. Now it was Birchstorm and Waspfang. Or, perhaps, only Waspfang.
"Now the past I've tried forgetting, and my foes I could forgive, trouble is, I knows it's petty, but I hate to let them live"
Age:
22 Moons
Gender:
Tom
Rank:
Warrior
Former Mentor:
Flamepelt
Family Tree:
Gingerleap + Buzzardnose || Quailblaze + Tigerpelt
\ \ / /
Stormflight + Birchstorm \ /
WaspfangDescription:
Waspfang is a lanky, mottled red and black tabby tom with bright, sharp green eyes and darker paws. He is skinny with long limbs - a common FireClan trait - and a long tail. He is tall, but not too heavy-built, and moves very smoothly - akin to a snake. His fur is wiry and usually kept neat.
Personality:
He is sarcastic and can be provoking, and tends to shy away from violence, always preferring a battle of wits; however, he can easily hold his own and is of an average strength level for a tom. He isn't easily angered, but can be annoyed, and has an intolerance for stupidity. While he despises the idea of having a mate that he must put all of his attention and care into, he does want several litters of kits and aspires to have his "legacy" live on. He is convinced he is more cunning and important than other cats, and could easily lead a Clan that would be greatly successful, but is very loyal and does not typically voice his opinions directly.
Strengths:
Clever
Swift
Loyal
Patient
Physically Strong
Weaknesses:
Easily Annoyed
Intolerant
Distrusting
Sarcastic
Very Conceited
History:
In the heat of the desert, a Clan thrives with skill many others do not possess. Quick as the wind, sharp as a cactus, and brave as the largest hawk, FireClan cats stand for themselves and their Clan, and are taught from the beginning to be loyal and respectable. And in kitting season, in the warmth and comfort of green-leaf, the kits play and enjoy life, knowing nothing of the bloodthirsty ways of all the Clans beyond their borders.
***
Waspkit:
The heat of day burned on Waspkit's back as he watched the few other kits play, eyes searching through the mess of cats as he allowed his thoughts to roam. He did enjoy playing, but he also enjoyed being alone sometimes, not to mention he constantly eavesdropped on the warriors. He knew more than the other kits, but he wouldn't tell them what they were saying. It would scare them, and probably give them nightmares as it had for him. What lay out in the desert past the camp? He shook his head, knowing his curiosity was getting the best of him again. He collected himself and pounced into the bundle of kits, tackling a she-kit but being pinned. "Gotcha!" She giggled. He sighed, going limp under her paws. Every time, he was pinned. Was it his fault? He was skinnier than the rest.
"When can I pin you?" He whined, getting to his paws when she got off and shaking out his fur.
"When you're as strong as me!" She boasted, yanking her head up higher and strutting off. He murmured under his breath, licking through his tail to get all of the irritating sand out.
"Waspkit, where are you?" His mother's voice echoed in his ears, and he glanced toward the nursery, spotting the gracefully tall and well-built she-cat. "There you are, come on. It's going to be dark soon." He twitched his nose in slight defiance before prodding toward her, allowing her to pick him up by his scruff and set him in the nest between her paws. She began to groom him, and he winced in slight embarrassment. He could groom himself.
"Stormflight," a deep voice meowed strongly, and Waspkit turned to spot his father, Birchstorm. "Did I see Waspkit pinned by a she-cat?" He moved over, and Waspkit wriggled from his mother's paws, puffing out his chest and lifting his chin. "My, son, don't strain yourself." The tom pushed the kit over with his paw, a judgmental eye on him.
"She-cats can be just as strong as toms," Stormflight said without meeting Birchstorm's gaze. She stretched out her paw, pulling Waspkit in again to continue licking him. "Do not be too harsh on him."
"It's your fault he's so lanky," Birchstorm snapped, snatching Waspkit from her again and setting him down roughly. The kit got to his paws, looking up at his parents. "See him? Wobbling on those thin legs. How could he ever be leader?"
"Birchstorm, that is enough!" Stormflight stood up, her expression like an angry stone, carved gently. She could not seem angry, nor look angry. She was sweet, pure. "This is your kit, I expect you to treat him as such."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, did I offend you? You're exactly right. He is my kit, therefore I will treat him as I feel necessary. You," he snorted, looking her over. "You feed him and keep him warm." And with that, he marched from the nursery, leaving the kit and his mother to their own darkened thoughts.
***
Wasp-paw:
"No, no, like this!" Wasp-paw's mentor, Firepelt, batted at nothing, then swiped with his claws. "See? You're not swiping swift enough." Wasp-paw nodded, practicing the move over and over until it was perfected. "Good, good. That's enough training for today, come on. Let's head back to camp." Firepelt led the way, the apprentice trailing after him, thinking to himself. Had he really done well? He didn't feel that way, he felt he could use more training today. Especially battle training. He sighed to himself, glancing around at all of the bustling cats.
"Firepelt!" Birchstorm raced after the other tom, and Wasp-paw's mentor stopped dead in his tracks.
"Oh, Birchstorm. I assume you're waiting for the update?" He purred in amusement, and Birchstorm rolled his eyes.
"Why else would I talk to a useless badger such as yourself? How did Wasp-paw do?" His eyes glistened with a sort of pride. It wasn't strong, but it was there, and Wasp-paw had learned to adore it. His father's approval was one thing he craved.
"Quite well," Firepelt said with a tint of hostility. "He just needs to start swiping harder. He's so skinny, I doubt he could hold his own against a she-cat!" The warrior snickered.
"And here we are again, insulting she-cats," Stormflight's smooth voice was most comforting to Wasp-paw as he turned to spot his mother. While his father caused him to be tense and alert, Stormflight tended to make him feel relaxed and accepted. "Remember that time I had to pull you out of a little stream, Firepelt? Because I sure do." She received glares from both Birchstorm and Firepelt, but neither said anything to retaliate. "Oh, Wasp-paw, you're growing so fast!" She purred and pressed her nose against his head. She was only slightly taller than him now, soon he would catch up. "I remember you being curled next to me in the nursery, sleeping away-"
"Stormflight, hush!" Birchstorm snarled, and the she-cat was taken aback. "We do not talk of his kithood, remember? He must learn to grow and get past such a silly time." He collected himself, meeting Wasp-paw's gaze evenly. "You just remember your place. Now, apprentice. Soon, warrior." He lashed his tail, preparing to walk away before stopping. "And after that, leader."
***
Waspfang:
It was a horrid day. Then again, it seemed every day of his life had been. But he would not pity himself, how low of him. Waspfang watched as the Clan sat a silent vigil for Stormflight, the rain pattering down softly and seeping into her wiry pelt. She did not look peaceful, coated in blood and twisted in such an appalling way. And yet he sat, simply... watching. Birchstorm, sitting next to him, held his head high and a stony gaze. He was shorter than Waspfang now, but heavier-set. As the cats began to part, Birchstorm turned tail and disappeared into the warrior's den, leaving Waspfang to watch as his mother's body was left alone in the center of the clearing. He did not know what to think of this. It felt numb, and although he didn't want to say he didn't care, he almost didn't. She had been a good mother, but that's all she-cats were. Mothers. And when their time came, they would have kits to live on, holding their father's strong legacies. Waspfang took this to heart - he was his father. And he would have kits and pass this on, his kits would be Waspfang, himself. He slipped into the warrior's den, making his way to his nest and bedding down for the night.
He awoke to a slight chill next to him, and noticed his father's nest was empty. Where could he have gotten to? The new warrior got to his paws, making sure his fur was neat, and padded out. It wasn't hard to spot Birchstorm, sitting in the clearing with his head hung near his paws and his ears flat. It couldn't be that he was mourning? Waspfang slowly prodded next to him, looking down upon him. "Waspfang," his father quickly got to his paws, his eyes flickering about. "I was simply paying my respects."
"Paying your respects?" Waspfang snorted, lifting his paw and watching his claws unsheathe for sheer entertainment, then sheathing them again. "To Stormflight?"
"Yes, as should you," Birchstorm spoke evenly, but with a strong tint to his voice. "She was your mother, after all."
"And that's all she was." Waspfang said immediately, leaning in with bared teeth. "You are weak. After everything you taught me, this is how you act?" Waspfang seethed, his fur bristling. "Why, I should just teach you a lesson right now. You are a kittypet."
"You are acting ridiculous, do not speak to me that way," Birchstorm snarled, his claws unsheathed and digging into the sand. "While I'm alive, I am above you."
"Above me?" Waspfang chuckled, swinging out his paw and hitting his father's head, which sent the elder tom to the ground. "You are nothing but a pathetic kittypet. I can't even call you a warrior, not ever again." Birchstorm's expression did not show shock, nor fear. It did not show the pride Waspfang once so yearned for. It showed nothing, at all. And Waspfang realized he probably looked the same way, with the same expressions and with the same dull, lifeless eyes. And it didn't bother him. It was strong to hold your emotions in, and Birchstorm had just proven to him how weak he was by mourning his 'mate'. There were no mates, there were she-cats. And when there were she-cats, there were also mothers. And even though his bond to his mother was strong, and he treated her with more kindness than any other cat in the Clan, he did not mourn her or miss her. It was her time, she was gone. Now it was Birchstorm and Waspfang. Or, perhaps, only Waspfang.