Post by Deleted on Jan 24, 2016 10:10:26 GMT -5
x - ThunderClan – Medicine Cat Apprentice – x
Stagkit– Stagpaw – Stagleap)
Age: Seven Moons
Position: [Medicine Cat] Apprentice
Short Description: Long legged brown and white tom with green eyes.
Appearance: As far as ThunderClan goes, Stagpaw was well designed. Though he lacks the sheer brawn of some, his long legs and broad paws tell of a decent future in climbing should he have gone down the path of his littermate. Speed has always been on his side, a lithe body and his (aforementioned long) legs serving to push him faster than his heftier brother. His pelt is thin and sleek, a blessing in the putrid heat of greenleaf and a curse in the frigid frosts of leafbare. Coloured in a gradient ranging from a chocolate brown to pitch black he blends easily in the shadows of the forest undergrowth – provided he tucks in those long white legs. He remains unmarred by scars and finds himself increasingly proud of that with each passing moon, each scar he doesn’t have represents to him another moon passed without violence. He does, however, have a very distinct crook in the base of his tail which while it doesn’t negatively impact his life, it certainly looks odd.
Personality: No matter how delicate Stagpaw may seem, his tongue is anything but. This young cat is as abrasive as they come. For all his vow of pacifism, Stagpaw is far from helpless armed as he is with sharp words and a swift wit. Yet his outward prickley nature stems from a deeply rooted anxiety; fed by insecurities and uncertainty about how suited he is to his role. There’s more, like with any cat, than first meets the eye and a perceptive cat will rapidly uncover quite how much of Stagpaw’s bluster hides fear.
Stagpaw loves his work and wishes desperately to make his mentor proud – nothing else has mattered to him since he accepted the position. He works hard, tirelessly pushing himself through memorisation exercises and often found in his downtime sorting through their stores. He is dedicated to his Clan above all else, something which might prove to make a certain part of the Medicine Cat Code tricky for him to stomach. One notable thing is that he adamantly declines any form of combat training, speaking at length about his decision to avoid drawing his claws in violence. Stagpaw is an adamant pacifist; something he dedicated himself to when he began his training. His paws are for healing, his heart untainted by bloodshed – he is determined to keep things this way. He is, perhaps, highly naïve in this respect.
No matter how hard the young tom works, however, he is plagued by fears and insecurities about his abilities. He has no incredible memory for the herbs, or remarkable instinct for thinking outside of the box, nor does he have a particularly special connection with StarClan. As far as his natural abilities as a medicine cat fair, Stagpaw is average. Somewhere along the lines he allowed his young head to fill with the tales of elders; valiant warriors fighting with the strength of LionClan and medicine cats who ran with the Stars and healed with the grace of their ancestors. He decided that average was subpar; hard work was not a virtue in and of itself, he had to push himself to be better and stronger constantly – or he’d be forgotten by the cats to come.
Stagpaw struggles with his anxiety; beyond his fears as a medicine cat he is naturally shy of others. Crowds frighten him and loud cats make him flinch. He wants desperately not to be afraid of the cats he meets, yet when push comes to shove he finds himself struggling to keep his gaze on their faces and not his paws. His sharpness serves as a method of trying to create distance between them, not so much to push cats from him in some dramatic gesture but to give himself room to breathe. He doesn’t fear cats getting close to him, not at all, but he fears them in general.
What does, however, make him remarkable has already been mentioned. Stagpaw is a singularly dedicated creature, hard working beyond all else and patient to a fault. While his patience has a habit of running short it is his own paws he gets frustrated at. With the sick and injured of the Clan Stagpaw has earned his place ten times over; from a thorn in a warrior’s paw to a kitten struck with kittencough, Stagpaw’s manner is gentle. He prides himself on his empathy, pushing through his anxiety to meet their gaze and offer reassurance. He strives to be a steady cat in the medicine den even if he can’t be so anywhere else.
Positive Traits: ( 3 things )
• Hard working and dedicated.
• Very good bedside manner.
• Strong pacifist.
Negative Traits: ( 3 things )
• No natural “gift” for his craft, average talent.
Likes: ( 3 things )
• Quiet and calm.
• Things to be orderly and neat.
• Queens, Stagpaw has always had a special fondness for the Clan’s mothers and tries to pay special attention to how they’re faring in the nursery.
Dislikes: ( 3 things )
• Too much noise.
• Disruptions to his patients.
• The words “We’ve done all we can.” Young as he is, the thought of failure is too much to bear.
Fears: ( 2 things )
• He will never be good enough.
• The Clan will oust him for weakness.
Goals: ( 2 things )
• When his mentor is laying dying that a fear for the wellbeing of ThunderClan not be a concern.
• To one day stand proud before the Moonpool and greet StarClan without the burden of insecurities or fear.HISTORYStagpaw is one half of an odd little set. Born to Applefang a dark furred warrior who opted to keep the identity of their father to herself (a mating of convenience, she’d tell them one day later, a favour to result in kits and nothing more). To her was born two kits, brothers, the elder slight of build and the younger chubby and broad – both kits were born healthy, a pleasure for their mother and a joy for the Clan. Two healthy little toms, wriggling and mewling and – above all else – strong. Born on the cusp of greenleaf and leaf-fall, to go through their kithood in relative warmth, it seemed that the stars had smiled upon them. There was little chance of losing either.
The prognosis proved true and the kits began to grow, opening their little kit-blue eyes and exploring the nursery. Gradually expanding their world, step by laborious little step, until the entire camp was their playground and the territory beyond it the stuff of whispered, eager fantasies. From an early age the kits where high energy, frisking around the nursery and whispering together long into the night. Yet it was quickly apparent that while Otterkit turned his energy to gregarious pursuits, Stagkit was less outgoing. He hid behind his brother, stalwartly refusing to meet the eyes of cats he met and responding in short, mumbled comments. While he was regularly observed interacting warmly and openly with his mother and brother he seemed unable to react in kind to any other cat – a concern for those who took interest in the kits.
Yet as the kits grew it was clear that while he was certainly shy and easily overwhelmed, there was nothing wrong with the little kit’s mind. He was as mentally robust as his brother; it remained an enigma, though one Applefang went to great lengths to work around. She introduced her son to few cats at a time, taking particular care in establishing a connection between him and the elders and other queens. Cats who could, in general, be trusted to be gentle with him. Under her careful guidance, Stagkit began to slowly flourish – yet nothing lasts forever.
Yewkit was born a moon after Stagkit and Otterkit. His brother bonded fast to the other kit who himself grew up loud and outgoing, far more inclined to pester the warriors for tales of glories or to lead them from camp than Stagkit. It was the social interaction which bound Stagkit’s young paw and he grew frustrated; he wasn’t so different to Yewkit and Otterkit. He wanted to explore the territory as much as they did, his paws itched and he ached with the desire to explore and learn – but his tongue tangled in the face of the rest of the Clan. Slowly the elders and queens became the majority of his company, Otterkit darting off on adventures with Yewkit which Stagkt was too nervous to follow him on.
Slowly shyness became sullenness. The elder’s stories no longer satisfied the itch and yet he still couldn’t bring himself to embark on the adventures of his littermate and denmate. Otterkit’s mind became a mystery to his brother, the younger of the litter spending less and less time with him. It was through no fault of his own, the elder’s den and nursery were far too narrow a world for such an outgoing kit. Yet still Stagkit resented it in the confused, emotional way of kits who have no way to process feelings such as resentment and jealousy.
Yet somewhere amidst his sulking, newfound temper Stagkit managed to foster a very natural sense of compassion. He was five moons when a queen went into labour; the only cats remaining in the nursery were kits – Otterkit listened to her wretched cries with shock. Yewkit fled to find help quickly, proving the best under pressure among them. Stagkit, well, Stagkit found that her cries pulled at something in his chest. It left him aching and sad, slowly he crawled over to her, pressing himself against her side and grooming her fur.
It felt like an eternity before Applefang arrived, Yewkit and their medicine cat hot on her heels. She swept up Otterkit, herding him from the nursery and almost missed her eldest pressed against the labouring queen. She left him for a moment, observing him carefully before she gathered him up and out of the path of the real help and out of the nursery – this was, perhaps, the most important event in the kit’s short life.
What followed was a moon of his mother hinting, nudging and pressing him towards the medicine cat’s den. In her gentle way she began to teach her kits that there was more than one way to serve their Clan – for some it was with claws and fangs, for others it was a permanent home in the nursery, for others it was herbs and their ancestors. All paths, she informed them, growing firm when Otterkit scrunched up his nose at the idea of being anything less than a warrior, all paths were equal. All paths important.
Stagkit listened in awe, his head told him that it was best to just toe the line. Become a warrior, defend his Clan, but part of him pulled in another direction. The cries of the pained, laboured queen echoed in his mind, he wasn’t sure that he could bring himself to inflict pain on another cat. The way the sound left him aching, he simply wasn’t sure he had the nerve. It was scarcely something he could voice to his brother who spoke loudly with Yewkit about how they were going to be the best warriors in ThunderClan. Their names, he declared, would be remYewed throughout the history of the Clan. It was nothing, the boasting of kits, but somehow it struck a nerve deep in Stagkit.
How would he be remYewed?
Would his name be recalled in moons to come?
Did it really matter?
It was the compassion shown and his calmness under the stress of a pained cat which earned him his place in the medicine cat’s den. It’s now become his job to prove that he can handle it.OUT OF CHARACTER
OOC name: Wrenly
Other Characters: N/A
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