Post by Glowy on Jun 12, 2012 20:52:11 GMT -10
Name|
Gender |
Tom
Age |
Thirty-six moons
Rank |
Warrior
Clan |
MeadowClan
Beliefs |
He has never really considered the possibility of an afterlife. It was never discussed in his home, so he is unused to even comprehending the idea of a life after this one. He's always figured that you got one shot and after that you simply ceased to exist. No punishment after death, no rewards... that was the responsibility of the living.
As far as StarClan goes, he thinks they're just stories told to kits in the nursery to inspire them to follow the Warrior Code. He respects the Code, but not StarClan. He seriously doubts if they even exist. But, if they do, he does not think he will find a place in their ranks. He was not born in the Clans, and their "starry ancestors" are not his own. What place is there for him in a glittering hunting ground? (NOTE: His rejection of the idea is out of this very fear, that there is no place for him. If he could be convinced that he has a place in StarClan despite his kittypet birth, he would certainly believe.)
Parents |
Gandalf, father, NP; Arwen, mother, NP
Siblings |
Anna, sister, NP; Zack, brother, NP; Jerry, brother, NP; Estella, sister, NP (2nd litter, sold to other humans)
Other Kin |
None of any great consequence.
Mate |
None that he is devoted to. He's had many. He tries to forget that... But he's looking for somebody special in MeadowClan. Ladies?
Crush |
Not yet
Kits |
He could lead an army solely consisting of his children. And win. From numbers.
Apprentice/Mentor |
Not yet
Appearance |
Gorsewhisker is a Norwegian Forest Cat, bred for excellence by his previous human owners. His line is an old and esteemed one in the cat show rings, and it is rumored that the founders of his fine, cat show winning family may have been owned by royalty. Not that he gives a rip about all that. Despite his strong lines and luxuriously long coat of russet tabby, Gorsewhisker is nothing too special to look at. He is often covered in dust and various bits of... well... whatever it was that he last managed to get himself into.
This is an attempt on his part to integrate himself completely into clan culture. He does not want to go around the forest parading himself, and his body, and his fur, and his teeth, and whatever else it was that the humans thought to be so special about him, like a tool to win prizes. So he lets his fur get tangled. He leaves, well, leaves stuck in the knots. Dirt stays in difficult places for him to reach while grooming. He is glad that his green eyes appear to be less unusual in his home than he would have thought, though his do still have an element of brilliance added with the essential Norwegian golden ring. If he took the time to rid himself of the bits of moss and leaves and clumps of dirt in his pelt, he would arguably be one of the most handsome toms in the forest.
Personality |
Gorsewhisker hates himself with a passion unrivaled even by the fiercest bloodlust or the most ardent love. It shapes everything about him. Well, perhaps I should say that rather than hating himself as he is currently, he hates everything he was when owned by the humans. He tries to forget as much as possible, so he pours himself into assimilating to Clan culture. He speaks with everybody that he can, tries to figure out the nuances of being a forest cat, and does his best to not make a fool of himself. As a result, some clanmates might interpret his behavior as being forced or artificial.
Gorsewhisker almost constantly worries about how he appears to others. This might be vestigial behavior from his time as a show cat, but he tells himself that all he wants is to be liked. He is terrified that nobody will like him here, and they will drive him out. He knows that he cannot make it in the wild on his own (he's tried it once before, you see, and nearly got himself killed) and so would be forced to return to the land of the humans whom he despises so.
You see, Gorsewhisker's personality forms itself around a basic trinity: self-loathing, anger, and a consuming, almost draining desire to be loved. His anger has no true target, and so he has no way to express it, so it simmers beneath his carefully maintained façade of happiness. Or, perhaps not happiness necessarily, but normalcy. Stability. He projects the things that he desires to be onto his outer self, partially hoping that if he does this enough that he will become these things, but mostly wishing to mask all the undesirable traits that roil within his heart. Who would love such a creature as him, if they saw? Nobody. He acknowledges the destructiveness of his anger and self-loathing, and thinks that by keeping them shut inside, he is protecting his clanmates from being destroyed by them. If anybody is to be harmed, let it be him.
As a result of this, he pours his anger and frustration into every task he does. Hunting? He revels in the violence of a kill. Patrols? Alone, a perfect opportunity to let out a few desperate screams to nothing. Exercise? He tries to do so as much as possible, especially running. It helps him clear his mind. Sparring? He'll take on any willing opponent. He tries to pass this off as an intense devotion to keeping himself prepared to defend the clan.
A deep-seated shame is the source of his anger and self-loathing. He sees how the humans used him as a tool for their own gain and prestige, and cannot manage to summon hardly a heartbeat's worth of sorrow over their fates. He has not yet learned to forgive. It is why he cannot forgive himself for the things that were out of his control.
Despite all this, Gorsewhisker's one desire in life is to find love and have a family. He wants what his parents had desperately. He wants to feel... valuable. Love would help him believe that he is worth something and once he realizes this, he will be able to begin to forgive himself. It would be the ultimate self-actualization for him, realizing that he was worth so much to another soul, and worth something for more than his looks or his pure blood or his ability to reproduce. He needs somebody to care about him. And so it is all he searches for.
Skills |
Gorsewhisker is an excellent punching bag. When I said that he will spar with any willing opponent, it did not necessarily mean that he would win said spars. Oh, I mean, he can hold his own in a real battle- wouldn't be a Warrior otherwise- but he does not exert himself too much in his effort to win a false fight. Anyway, his battle skills are nothing of legend, to be sure. I doubt if he could even kill anybody if he had to. He wouldn't be able to bring himself to it.
As suggested by his name, Gorsewhisker's forte is in tracking. He would much rather spend his time on the hunt than in the thick of a hissing, screaming mass of cats duking it out over a stolen piece of prey.
One thing that he is horrid at is giving advice. He cannot for the life of him come up with a single useful thought when somebody asks him what he thinks they should do about a problem. No, not one. It's quite a sad state of affairs, really.
History |
About three years ago, Finn entered the world as a squirming, mewling, irrationally loud slick of russet tabby fur and bright pink mouth. He did not find himself birthed onto cold stones or damp soil, but rather the warm and comfortable towels and sheets of newspaper that the elderly humans had lined his mother's nest with. He was one of her second litter of pure Norwegian glory, a born champion if ever there was one! That was what his owners hoped, anyway. They had him and his siblings pedigreed and priced to sell as soon as was possible, but nobody wanted poor Finn. So the humans ended up keeping Finn while the rest of his littermates were sold to other cat fanciers.
His family, after that, consisted of his mother and father and his older sister, Merry. Being his only remaining sibling, he formed a deep attachment to her, and the attachment was reciprocated on her part. They were positively inseparable and did everything together, from listening to their parents talk about their love for life and one another and how lucky they were, to having grand imagined adventures in the back yard. They did not even mind being primped and gawked over by their owners because they suffered equally and together. Oh, but was it ever a joy to muss up their perfect coats and make new tangles to be combed out! They reveled in it! Overall, Finn had a very pleasant kithood.
As soon as he stopped looking quite so ungainly and disproportionate, as young cats so often do, the humans took to his grooming with renewed vigor and began entering him in cat shows. He was poked and prodded and inspected by strange hands that smelled funny, and he wondered why his owners would put him through such a terrifying experience. The cat shows confused and frightened him with their bright lights, multitudes of bizarre cats, and odd smells. His only comfort was to be found in his sister, on the rare occasion that she was entered into a show with him.
When he won his first Best of Show award, he became desirable for... other things, in the eyes of his owners and of the owners of a few other cats. It was not long before his owners collected their first stud fee and he was sent off to a strange house for as long as it took. Before leaving, his father explained what would be expected of him, and poor innocent Finn thought that after he did that, he would be allowed to remain with the she-cat. They would be just like his parents, they would! When it was made clear by the female herself that that would not be happening, Finn was horrified. What were they asking him to do? Make a family he couldn't be a part of? He tried to resist, but she just smelled so good...
This went on for a couple of years, this never ending cycle of cat shows and breeding. He was his owners' prize kitty, and he got special treatment as a result. Nobody was allowed to so much as breathe on him, he couldn't eat the food anybody else ate, and he was kept inside so he couldn't get dirt and nasty things in his pelt. It was miserable for him. His only experiences with the outside world involved shows and she-cats, and he soon grew numb and detached from both experiences. Nevertheless, the emptiness of the life imposed upon him by the humans drained him. He was almost relieved when they died. Oddly, their deaths were within a couple days of each other.
He and his sister elected to realize their kithood "adventures" in the backyard and move to the wild, while their parents preferred to be taken care of by their owners' children. They said their goodbyes with no bitterness, and both groups sincerely wished the other happiness and success. Finn simply could not wait to get away from the memories that house gave him. He and his sister fared well for a few days when they were on the outskirts of town and could still manage to scavenge some food from the trash bins. When they hit the actual wilderness, it was hunt or starve. Finn and Merry took a crash course in hunting with a steep learning curve, and after about a week were managing to catch at least one piece of prey a day between the two of them. It wasn't much, but at least they weren't starving and could eat a few berries to supplement their diet.
The trouble was that neither of them had the slightest idea what they were doing. They didn't know which berries were safe or not, and Merry ended up eating some that made her sick for days. Finn was beside himself during that time. All he could do was feed her what little she would eat, bring her water, and hope that she would survive. She pulled through in the end, and although in a severely weakened state, insisted that they push further into the wild.
So they did, following a wide trail through the forest that served as a road for ATV's. Merry liked walking on the path, but Finn preferred to stay off to the side. It was safer, he said. Merry was just preparing a tease for her younger brother when an ATV came hurtling towards her on the path. Finn yelled for her to move and jump off to the side with him, but she was paralyzed by fear. The driver tried to veer off course, but was going too fast and ended up driving straight over her. She died instantly. Now it was Finn's turn to stare in horror as the ATV driver dismounted his vehicle stopped further down the road and came back to bury Merry's corpse. Finn was terrified and ran off blindly into the woods when he saw the human coming toward him. He ran and ran until his head began to swim from his heavy breathing and he tripped and hit his head on a rock. The last thing he perceived before unconsciousness was the memory of the sound of his sister's body being crushed like a twig underpaw.
He awoke to see a passel of cats standing around him. It was very confusing to him, because they all smelled the same. They shouldn't smell the same. Was it one cat, and his vision was swimming so much that he was seeing multiples? And changing pelt colors? And separating the voice into high and deep? Yeah, no. Finn tried to speak but found that his body was not exactly working correctly. He lost consciousness again, and when he next awoke, a smallish she-cat was sitting next to him. They were inside some sort of place that was moderately dark and smelled like... plants.
Over the next few days, when his brain could handle it, he learned about where he was. MeadowClan, it was called. Or they called themselves. Anyway, it was a bunch of cats all living together. The smallish she-cat, Mottledpaw, told him that he could probably join if he wanted. He'd just have to become an Apprentice and learn their ways. It sounded simple enough, and quite frankly, Finn decided that he needed something to keep him from going insane over the death of his sister. He now had one more crime to add to his list. But MeadowClan didn't need to know about that. So he agreed, asked that Cedarstar character if he could have the privilege of joining their clan, and was given the name Gorsepaw.
His training passed without any significant event, and when the proper time came, he was named Gorsewhisker to pay homage to his skill as a tracker. At present, he has been a MeadowClan warrior for nearly two moons.
Critique level |
Criticize all aspects of my character. Seriously, raze this bio to the ground. Give me advice even if you think it's suitable. I want perfection. |8