Batpelt

[Pyro]

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[bg=ffffd6] Name | Radar Batpelt Gender | Tom Age | 29 moons Rank | Warrior Clan | Meadowclan Beliefs | Batpelt believes that there is something out there, and there's not much more to it than that. It could be the 'God' twolegs sometimes talk about, it could be Starclan, but sure as shootin' it's there, and that's about all he wants to know about that. He doesn't think he, or anyone else for that matter, should know all there is to know about whatever high being is out there, and for this reason avoids medicine cats like the plague. Nothing against them, really, just their prophecies and visions. I mean...they're just regular cats like the rest of them, ja? Ja. So why should he believe that they have a 'special' connection to the other side? Seems like it's just the catnip talking half the time. In any case, half the fun with these kind of things is in the not knowing. Parents | a fudgeton. Siblings | Mad Max Shrewstorm [bro x played by Slug] Jaws Greyfur [lil'bro x NP] Other Kin | kin with ALL THE CATS. Mate | uh ner. Crush | yer face. Kits | Gorsewhisker, meet your match. Apprentice | n/a Appearance | "Shrewstorm eats enough for the both of us." Like his bro Shrewstorm, Batpelt is one skinny dude. However, rather than having the freakishly fast metabolism of a shrew, he has the eating habits of a deadman walking. Seriously. I think the only way this cat eats is if someone force feeds him, but good luck trying to find him if that's your intention. He'll be up a tree faster than you can say 'bon apetite'. His nondescript black coat is of medium-thickness and clings to his half-starved frame for dear life. Have you ever seen a hair leave his body? I haven't. Freaking hypo-allergenic, this cat. There's not much luster to his pelt, but his shrewd green eyes make up for that by providing a spark of color in his otherwise uniform blackness. Personality | "I'd be lying if I said I did it all for you." Though Batpelt was always a curious and alert little kit, his vigilance was compounded by the fire that scattered and ruined his family. It's brought him closer to his two remaining brothers, Greyfur and Shrewstorm, and instilled within him a fierce protectiveness over them and his new family, Meadowclan. He's always on the watch, and let me tell you it hasn't done wonders for his health. Sleep? lul. Food? Who has the time? Certainly not him. The sleep deprivation and severe weight loss don't seem to be fazing him though. That's not to say they aren't evident, because they most certainly are, it's just that Batpelt doesn't seem to care. Selflessness and paranoia do not a healthy lifestyle make. But is it really selflessness that keeps him on lookout duty? Or is it selfishness? Batpelt doesn't want to lose his family again, not his brothers, not Meadowclan. He'd take a bullet for any of them in a heartbeat because by doing so he can save himself the greater pain of loss. Are starvation and a self-enforced no-sleep regimen a little extreme as far as 'protecting your loved ones to protect yourself' goes? Yeah, kinda. But don't tell him that, because criticism of that kind goes in one over-sized ear and out the other with this cat. However, Batpelt isn't all neurotic tendencies and constant vigilance. He can also lay claim to a wry sense of humor and the easy-going nature that seems to run in the family. Granted, he isn't quite as laid-back as Shrewstorm is anyone?, and of course he has to be off the job for this to shine through, but Batpelt is still a good cat to turn to when you need a listening ear. In fact, you might not even need to turn to him to get that listening ear. He's very observant, and if he sees someone looking a bit rough around the emotional edges, he's quick to try and find out what's the matter. Of course he's also, you guessed it, stubborn. As a mule. So even if you don't want a listening ear you're going to get one. Hell, you might even get an eavesdropper because this tom is insatiably curious about everything. It's not just that he's always on the alert for danger, it's that he's on the alert for everything. Danger, juicy gossip, opinions, new plants, new creatures, new tracking tricks, everything. Everything. And once he develops an opinion or makes a decision you'll be hard pressed to talk him out of it. Oh sure you're right. But he still made a pretty good argument, and maybe you're not completely correct.... And that is part of the reason for why he sleeps in a tree. Yeah, you read that right. A tree. See, Batpelt has a theory about sleeping and/or living underground. And that is...that it's stupid. Not to mention unsafe, inconvenient, and a whole new brand of claustrophobia-inducing madness. If you're underground you have no idea what's going on upstairs. Yeah you know, upstairs, where all the enemy clans, fires, dogs, hawks, owls, live. The quarters are muffled, cramped, and you can't see a goddamn thing. No, he'll take his tree where he can see for miles around and do a proper job of being self-appointed lookout for his family of tunnel rats. Sure, many have tried to get him to come down for the night, to get a wink of sleep...but all have failed. And will continue to fail, so help Batpelt, God. Which brings us back to his chronic starvation: many have tried to feed him, but all except for his brothers have failed. Much like living underground, Batpelt has a theory about eating too: when he eats, bad things happen. It's a distraction, and one that cost him most of his family at the farm. He takes valuable time to stuff his face, and what happens? A fire strikes before he has time to warn his family and get them the hell out of there. Jaws was burned. Burned. Along with his old life. All because The Watchdog wasn't watching like he was supposed to. So no thank you, keep your distractions food and your sleep to yourself. They're for cats who don't need to be on the watch 24/7. Not Batpelt. Not Batpelt, who has a need and tendency to notice everything. And yet...he also has a tendency to focus on one thing and dismiss another, even if it's something that's not commonly dismissed. "There was a gathering during the full moon last night? I hadn't heard. Incidentally, are you familiar with the many vocal patterns of the common or garden starling?" Yes, not only is he a good cat to go to when you need someone to talk to, but he's also a good cat to go to when you want to be talked at. He can go off on tangents about the oddest things, usually observances he's managed to make while being the clan-lookout. The gift of the gab...yeah, it's easy to imagine him being related to Shrewstorm, isn't it? And yet, beneath all the watchfulness, the paranoia, the starvation, and of course the unusual chattiness, lies the soul of a down-to-earth farm-boy just trying to make his way in this big ol clan. Not. Skills | Batpelt wasn't 'Radar' for nothing. There's not much that escapes his watchful eyes nor his large ears. I suppose you could say he's a tracker, but that's almost too specific. He's a scout, a lookout, if you will. His talents lie in spotting danger, rather than seeking it out, and it is for this reason that while he's an able enough fighter in a pinch, he prefers to stay the hell away from battle. And of course, Batpelt isn't very skilled at taking care of himself, evident by his starved-physique and sleep deprivation. He'd probably die if he ever found himself in the middle of a meadowclan border fight because he'd be too busy trying to drag his family away from enemies coming at them to pay attention to enemies coming at him. History | It takes a village to raise a kit, and by god it was a village that raised Batpelt. Known as 'Radar' at the time, this tom lived on a farm with no shortage of mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, aunts, kits, you name it. And bless his soul, Radar wanted to protect them all. Well, not 'protect' in the warrior-sense, but in the sense that he wanted to watch out for them. Radar was always wide-eyed and alert, no sound was left unheard, no rustle in the bush left unseen. He made it his personal job to know everything and to keep watch for anything that might threaten his large, bustling family. A cute enough game while he was a kit, but a job he took very seriously as a young adult. So you can imagine that when a fire took the entire family, Radar included, unawares...well. He was rather upset. He remembers it very clearly. He was in the barn, preoccupied by a big meal and a tangent about trees only he was interested in. The smell of smoke filled the air and crash, boom, bang- the barn roof was falling in. It was chaos. Complete and utter chaos. Cats running here and there, everywhere. Any attempt to stay together was abandoned as the family fled from the fire, so that by the end of it all the loners were many and the groups were few. Radar managed to attach himself to one of those groups. He stumbled into his younger brothers Mad Max and Jaws while trying to find his way through the forest some distance away from the farm. They were all he had left. And it looked like he was going to lose Jaws, even after he'd just found him. Both he and Max were at a loss as to what they should do. they'd never had to play doctor or anything like that back at the farm. A couple in the family knew their way around herbs though. Maybe if they just waited for a bit longer everyone would find each other and they could get Jaws some help. But...Well. No one ever came. He didn't want to leave his brothers, but someone had to get up and go find help. Jaws was going to die. And Radar was not about to let that happen. A few hours of carefully picking his way through the forest led him to the edge of a meadow, and thank whatever higher being there is, a patrol. Meadowclan, he'd soon learn. Bless them, they had a doctor, and that doctor, Aldernose saved. Jaw's. Life. Can you say eternally grateful? I think you can. So the three musketeers found themselves training to be warriors of Meadowclan. Few moons of struggling, pranks, and trying to come to terms with what went down at the farm, and Mad Max, Jaws, and Radar became Shrewstorm, Greyfur, and Batpelt. But while the training wasn't all that hard, the adjustment certainly was. See the clans didn't quite work the same way The Family did. Single parental units. One father. One mother. You needed direct blood to help raise the kits, and no matter how much you wanted to teach them all you knew, tell them stories, bond with them...well, you couldn't. Same thing with being a son or a daughter. Lost your parents? Well. You lost your parents. Maybe you got a stand-in, maybe you didn't. Meadowclan was...different, to say the least. But they were what he and his brothers had. They were family. Critique level | CRIT ALL OF THIS MOFO. speaking

[Glowy]

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