Post by Smokeleaf on May 19, 2009 19:40:03 GMT -5
Name: Windsong
Rank: Medicine Cat
Age: 32 moons
Gender: She-cat
Clan: TimberClan
Kin: none
Mate: can’t
Apprentice: Wishpaw
Pelt: Windsong’s pelt is very plain, but very pretty all at the same time. Her fur is a light silvery color, which covers her entire body, ears to tail. It’s of very short length, barely the size of a pebble. When her duties are slow and she actually has the time to groom herself, her fur is very streamlined and even. It has been noted that after a drizzle, the rain on her coat gives off a glimmering feeling in the sunlight, similar to the pelts of the cats she communicates with. In addition, her ears are thingyed to the side and bent backward slightly, as if she were caught in a horrible breeze, the source of her prefix.
Eyes: However soft Windsong may be, her eyes are hard and fiery. They are of the most blazing green, giving off an aura of protection and potency. They are softened by small flecks of brown, allowing wary kits to come near.
Personality: Windsong can probably be compared to the herbs she uses on her clan mates. She has a very soft personality and an aura to match, making her the kind of cat others could easily turn to. She’s usually very wise, like any medicine cat should be, trying to come up with solutions other than battle and warfare. She is also fairly easy to abuse due to this gentle nature. However, when she finally realizes this disrespect (she’s a very unsuspecting, optimistic cat, when she can be), she’s dangerous in her retaliation. Avoid getting on her bad side, and remember: she is the one with the healing herbs.
History: Windpaw started off as a normal warrior apprentice. One day she was out on a hunting patrol when she heard the groan of a cat. She followed the sound and came upon a kittypet, who had unknowingly eaten deathberries on his forest adventure. Confused and ignorant, she gave him some water and comforted him as he died, unable to do anything more. She returned to camp that night and informed her leader of her decision to become a medicine cat’s apprentice, but never told anyone of her experience.
Clip: Stumbling, fumbling over growing paws, Windpaw chased after her mentor. She couldn’t help but notice Randomcat’s repeated gesture as he lead the hunting patrol – nose to the ground, then in the air, then swaying to the left and right – and wondered if she was supposed to do this, too. She began to mimic his movements, which only made her dizzy and she started to stagger. She sat down a moment and caught her breath, pretending to be finding something. She didn’t actually expect to.Not even a moment later, a groaning sound entered her oddly-placed ears. She looked up, opening her mouth to warn Randomcat, but he was gone. They all were. She was alone.“H-hello?” she called, looking around for the source of the sound. She heard a gurgling noise, a writhing sound which she could only figure was death itself. She followed the moans to an elm tree, where she discovered a plump orange tabby reeking of kittypet.“Who are you?” she asked him, and he choked back an unintelligible answer. Unsure of what to do, she clambered backward and mewed nervously, “I’ll be right back. D-d-don’t move!”She returned a few moments later to the cat, who was still writhing uncomfortably. By the looks of it, he should have been dead long ago. “M-my name is Windpaw,” she told him, letting a few drops of water drip from a scrap of moss into the kittypet’s mouth. “What’s yours?”“Sn-Snicklefritz,” he cackled. She was very tempted to laugh, but knew this was not the time.“I’ve never heard of a name like that. W-what happened? Are you OK?”He said nothing, only flicked his tail toward a nearby bush. Windpaw gasped. “Deathberries!” She turned back to the cat, staring sympathetically into his eyes. She had no clue what to do. There wasn’t anything she could do, not fast enough. So she laid down beside him, her coat brushed against his, and waited, waited, waited for his flank to stop moving.
Rank: Medicine Cat
Age: 32 moons
Gender: She-cat
Clan: TimberClan
Kin: none
Mate: can’t
Apprentice: Wishpaw
Pelt: Windsong’s pelt is very plain, but very pretty all at the same time. Her fur is a light silvery color, which covers her entire body, ears to tail. It’s of very short length, barely the size of a pebble. When her duties are slow and she actually has the time to groom herself, her fur is very streamlined and even. It has been noted that after a drizzle, the rain on her coat gives off a glimmering feeling in the sunlight, similar to the pelts of the cats she communicates with. In addition, her ears are thingyed to the side and bent backward slightly, as if she were caught in a horrible breeze, the source of her prefix.
Eyes: However soft Windsong may be, her eyes are hard and fiery. They are of the most blazing green, giving off an aura of protection and potency. They are softened by small flecks of brown, allowing wary kits to come near.
Personality: Windsong can probably be compared to the herbs she uses on her clan mates. She has a very soft personality and an aura to match, making her the kind of cat others could easily turn to. She’s usually very wise, like any medicine cat should be, trying to come up with solutions other than battle and warfare. She is also fairly easy to abuse due to this gentle nature. However, when she finally realizes this disrespect (she’s a very unsuspecting, optimistic cat, when she can be), she’s dangerous in her retaliation. Avoid getting on her bad side, and remember: she is the one with the healing herbs.
History: Windpaw started off as a normal warrior apprentice. One day she was out on a hunting patrol when she heard the groan of a cat. She followed the sound and came upon a kittypet, who had unknowingly eaten deathberries on his forest adventure. Confused and ignorant, she gave him some water and comforted him as he died, unable to do anything more. She returned to camp that night and informed her leader of her decision to become a medicine cat’s apprentice, but never told anyone of her experience.
Clip: Stumbling, fumbling over growing paws, Windpaw chased after her mentor. She couldn’t help but notice Randomcat’s repeated gesture as he lead the hunting patrol – nose to the ground, then in the air, then swaying to the left and right – and wondered if she was supposed to do this, too. She began to mimic his movements, which only made her dizzy and she started to stagger. She sat down a moment and caught her breath, pretending to be finding something. She didn’t actually expect to.Not even a moment later, a groaning sound entered her oddly-placed ears. She looked up, opening her mouth to warn Randomcat, but he was gone. They all were. She was alone.“H-hello?” she called, looking around for the source of the sound. She heard a gurgling noise, a writhing sound which she could only figure was death itself. She followed the moans to an elm tree, where she discovered a plump orange tabby reeking of kittypet.“Who are you?” she asked him, and he choked back an unintelligible answer. Unsure of what to do, she clambered backward and mewed nervously, “I’ll be right back. D-d-don’t move!”She returned a few moments later to the cat, who was still writhing uncomfortably. By the looks of it, he should have been dead long ago. “M-my name is Windpaw,” she told him, letting a few drops of water drip from a scrap of moss into the kittypet’s mouth. “What’s yours?”“Sn-Snicklefritz,” he cackled. She was very tempted to laugh, but knew this was not the time.“I’ve never heard of a name like that. W-what happened? Are you OK?”He said nothing, only flicked his tail toward a nearby bush. Windpaw gasped. “Deathberries!” She turned back to the cat, staring sympathetically into his eyes. She had no clue what to do. There wasn’t anything she could do, not fast enough. So she laid down beside him, her coat brushed against his, and waited, waited, waited for his flank to stop moving.