Post by fierce on Sept 5, 2010 17:07:38 GMT -5
of ThunderClan
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Name: Fierceclaw
Age: 10 moons
Gender: Macho man
Clan: ThunderClan
Rank:Warrior
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Reason For Name: You could probably imagine.
Previous Names: Drukklo [Dr - oo -klo]; birthname and unknown to fellow Clan members
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One Sentence Description: Small, muscular black tom with bright blue eyes and a green patch in his left.
Appearance:While he definitely doesn't seem to know it, Fierce is a little guy. His stature's similar to that of an older kitten, or...well...one infamously famous bad-cat in the warrior series, eh? It seems the little-dog syndrome isn't completely uncommon. Because despite Fierce's non-intimidating size you'd be one wise cat to think twice before trying anything that would get you killed. His paws are a little bigger than average though not enough to get in the in the way of the speed he relies on so heavily to do the things he does (and not enough to make much of a difference in the "danger" aspect, either). Their size is because of the snowy climate he comes from. Little paws meant you sank like a fat rock in the stuff.
Those extreme conditions of the Haliskan lands also had an effect on his coat. Cats who had thin pelts simply didn't survive long. And if you didn't survive, you didn't have kits. Fierce's fur is "darker than a shadow on a moonless night" and about an inch and a half long on average I suppose. It's thickness is where the benefit is. Double layered with longer, more water-resistant hairs on top and a soft, downy undercoat below. In a warmer climate, you better believe Fierce hair gets all over the place.
That thick fur is a good disguise too. Scars slice menacingly into his skin beneath, especially around his throat and underbelly. A few of these are somewhat evident though most are not. But you wouldn't have to be the most observant person in the world to catch the horrific designs carved over the pads of his paws. It truly was a wonder they weren't cripplingly disfigured from whatever happened to them.
The first thing you'd notice about this cat though would be his eyes. They're piercing. Those icy blue depths stick out like a lantern against the darkness of his face. And the presence of that odd patch of green in his left mismatches them. Those eyes always hold a degree of cruelty and confidence. It is only the levels of it that depended on his mood. The second thing you'd notice would likely be the muscle he's build up. Not bulky, per say, but it isn't exactly normal either. Fierce's life has definitely been hard lived.
He carries himself with a sharp degree of dominance. Head high, steps masculan and silent. He claims the space he occupies, eyes always flooded with demeaning arrogance. Fierce, indeed, thinks he's something else.
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Personality:Ah...what can we say? So many have different takes on the "bitter one". He's a straight up *sshole, some would say. An insensitive, bloodthirsty, unpredictable jerk who you simply CANNOT be friends with even if you have the patience to try. Really though, he's just one of those guys who have more layers than what ought to be allowed in this world. But at least his aspects could be explained through his past. And I mean, everything.
Fierceclaw doesn't really let on about who he is or once was, even though he's been with ThunderClan for going on four moons. An inigma, to say the very least. He's very anti-social, dismissive and seems to shun the company of his fellow clan members altogether.
Usually he spends his days outside of camp, returning with a mouthful of kill then retreats back to his den in the camp wall. Always exhausted, though lord only knew why, and what he did out there. Although it is suspisious, no one really minds. He isn't exactly the most awesome cat to have around. And he doesn't take orders very well. So perhaps it is best that he and Dawnstar don't cross paths that often even though the leader, perhaps, knows better than anyone how to remedy the rebellion in the controversial tom.
Likes: Fighting [too much], hunting, being away from camp, challenges, obedience, anything competitive
Dislikes: REPTILES! Obnoxiousness, ignorant cats who refuse to believe they're ignorant cats, hyperness, kits, idleness, fish, will avoid water at all costs.
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History:Not much is known about Fierceclaw's past and he keeps it all to himself. A queen whose kits had just been apprenticed had been out on her first hunting trip since letting them go and stumbled upon the little six-moon-old loner on the sandy beach at the border of RiverClan territory. He had obviously been washed up and was speculated to've fallen into the gorge somehow upstream. He was terribly skinny, covered with wounds and unconscious.
The queen's heart was broken for him, being reminded of her own kits about his age, and carried him back to camp. She pleaded to let him stay and finally he was released to the medicine cat's den. It was days before Fierceclaw finally came to, which was a surprise. No one, not even the medicine cat, had believed he would survive. But miraculously, he did.
Fierceclaw was quiet and standoffish. He would stay in the corner of the medicine cat's den, not in the nest, and would not speak a word to anybody. Not even the queen who had saved his life. By the next day, the skeleton of a kit was walking on his stiff legs, much to the medicine cat's disapproval but any time anyone would get close to him he'd hiss or swat. The kitten moved himself to the far corner of camp within the bramble wall, out of sight.
He began to exercise more quickly than his frail body was ready, resulting in more injuries but his obvious disapproval at being so physically limited was a frustration so great it almost made him seem immune to the pain. He began to drag all manor of prey back to camp, making many cats wonder why he had been so starved if he could hunt so well. But once he had fully healed and been brought back to health, his true colors really began to show.
He began to talk, much to the clan's...annoyance. Absolutely nothing that came out of the 8 moon-old's mouth was anything nice. He was wild, ferocious, and...oddly enough, a surprisingly natural fighter who'd, obviously, had previous training. But even at his age, the kitten never played. The other apprentices his age would try to coax him into a playfight or two, but there were only a few such cases. Fierceclaw had always taken them much too seriously and injuries, hurt feelings, and/or serious fights always ensued.
He was apprenticed at 8 moons and was almost exiled when he latched onto a fellow apprentice's throat turning a training brawl and simply wound not let go. It had been one of the kits belonging to queen who'd saved him. And for the first time, the she-cat who had been his only advocate, began to stop sticking up for him.
Even though the young cat never said so, he did seem to regret what he'd done. He would sleep by the medicine cat's den instead of his usual place in the camp wall and sneak him extra food on occasion. The apprentice was probably the only one in the clan who forgave him. To the cats who didn't fear him and what he might become, he was simply disliked. And he was never fully trusted from that day forward. But there was never anything else that someone could use to accuse him.
He was made a warrior early, 10 moons, do to his previously already developed skills. But especially with the growing suspicion for loners, many disagreed with the decision.
IC Example: Random post from a random other site that you probably won't understand one bit of. xD I hope that's allowed.
blockquote]What did that imply? That she wanted to answer the question but chose not to? Why not? She could've saved some humility. Fierceclaw was asking her opinion, true, but he'd obviously been digging for something. Funny how she'd gained a bit of her intelligence back now that they were playing this game of words. She was playing it the safest by not answering his question, but at the same time...well...it was kind of no win - Fierceclaw's polite way of setting her back a peg.
But her unexpected choice of words to get her out of this mess pricked his fancy. And his brows (if cats had brows, lol) rose. "Is that a fact?" His condescending tone was ever present, though Fierceclaw was touched. Would you just look at her go..."Well now, you're not quite as dull as I thought you were. Pity you don't know how to apply it." Your words and actions reflected who you where. And if your words and actions contradicted themselves in meaning, all personal lies aside, it could mean several different things, from insecurity to straight up deceit. None of which were customary traits of a leader. Well, at least not in this kind of culture. Such things were probably not true about Truthstar, anyone can make a mistake, either in speech or not living by her beliefs because of a bad day. But Fierceclaw wasn't quite so forgiving. And he preyed on subtle mistakes.
"But you did manage to prove my point rather well. " His voice then lowered to decibels barely above a whisper as he spoke these next words, tone laced in a menacing amusement as his eyes narrowed further. "I suggest you use your utmost discretion before you choose who to flare that temper at, dear. It would be unfortunate if it got you hurt..." He gave a malicious wink before he simply turned and trotted off toward the entrance, head high, as though this whole thing was some kind of detour and he was finally back on track of what he'd been doing all along.
Back to his words...was that a...threat? Yes, though, it was more of a warning. His little history lesion, if she would've played along, would've brought her back to the story he'd heard not too long ago about the death of their forest's most fearsome leader. Tigerstar's lives had been stripped of him with a single blow, all because he got a little too confident of his position and tried to exert it over the wrong, wrong cat. He hadn't known the price for such a deed would be so high. And neither did Truthstar. History was meant to be learned from...lest it should repeat. But still, was Fierceclaw really a Scourge right now? Would he really try to hurt Truthstar? She really was a good leader, Fierceclaw's definition of "good" was set to a level of near impossibility, true, but she did her clan well. The hard fact was though: Fierceclaw didn't give a rat tail about these cats - didn't give one about anybody to be honest. When everybody you've ever cared about was killed, and everyone around you was whispering the same little lies in your ear about it as they had in Fierceclaw's life, you learned....kinda' not to. It only hurt you when they died, and you couldn't be hurt in Haliska, especially in your mind. Like a fatal infection growing in the smallest wound, if you lost your ambition, your will to fight back, you would be beaten down. And your life, your legacy, your purpose, your name, would be shamed forever. And if this was what happened to you, it was deserved. Unfortunately this was the way Fierceclaw's mind worked. No mercy. No ties.
Back to Truthstar though, he didn't consider himself having a reason to hurt her now. And...as harsh as what he'd just done was to people like us, in Fierceclaw's world, letting someone off with a simple degrading warning and no punishment to follow it up was the equivalent of a soft pat on the head and a "Aww, please don't do that". If this had been Haliska, there would've been all kinds of rumors spreading the next day, saying there was a little "something" going on between them because cats of Fierceclaw's rank simply did not let anyone off easy. A lot of the devil in him had been suppressed due to his depressing lows since the fall of Haliska though, or, perhaps "intoxicated" was a better word. Right now, the last thing Fierceclaw wanted to do was make any decisions without a plan, and didn't want to go lunging for the throat of this she-cat who was so terribly insignificant. It'd be like throwing a toddler in federal prison for stealing something. What would it accomplish? Nothing of course, Fierceclaw didn't have a clue what to do with himself right now so why go about killing off leaders? Fierceclaw was willing to protect this clan while he was here, hunt for them, patrol their borders and, if something should break into their nursery one night, Fierceclaw would pick up on it and such a threat would be swiftly eliminated and the day would be saved. Not because he cared about them, it was just his current position in life. A Thunderclan warrior. But at the same time, Fierceclaw was still Fierceclaw. A jokester would tell jokes whether he was mopping floors or piled up amongst the grapes and pillows as a sultan somewhere. Fierceclaw had lost too much blood, suffered too many wounds in training and battles to simply backslide into subordination. If they knew who he really was Truthstar would simply let him do his thing, and not get in his way. Benefit his clan he would, submit to her or anyone else he would not. 'Course, you couldn't exactly let one warrior have privileges another didn't, but that wasn't his problem, eh? But Fierceclaw was a cat who was literally bred for dominance, if not he wouldn't've made it as a Haliskan leader. But here this cat was, in a clan much less extreme, with one of them barking in his face. Those other two she-cats insisting on coming with him was a bummer, yes, but not as big a deal. They weren't challenging the one thing he had left in life.
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Who Are You? Inigo Montoya. And you killed my father.
How Did You Find Us? Affiliate surfing
Other Characters: None
