Post by Cloudbat on Jul 1, 2011 6:15:51 GMT -10
Name | Swallowpelt
Gender | she-cat
Age | 40 moons
Rank | warrior
Clan | Pine
Beliefs| Swallowpelt has mellowed slightly in her sneering disbelief, but that's not to say she doesn't still think the idea of StarClan is crazy. She still thinks FogClanners are a bunch of mouse-brains and that "prophecies" and "signs" are superstitious nonsense. But mostly, she doesn't really care - unless someone shoves StarClan at her, she'll just as happily not discuss it as insult it. She has better things to do, after all.
Parents | Greyfur-(mother)-dead Jaywhisker-(father)-dead
Siblings | Shrikewhisker-NP (brother) Sootstorm-NP (played by Paije) sister
Other Kin | None
Mate | Otterfur-(NP)
Crush | Not yet
Kits | Elmpaw-tom-(NP) Crowflower-tom-(played by Glowy) Willowpaw-she-cat-(played by Whiskers)
Apprentice/Mentor | None
Appearance | Swallowpelt is a very dark gray color, almost black. Her fur is very long, just like her tail. She is scarred in many places as a result of getting mauled by a fox when she was an apprentice. Her whiskers are white and a bit shorter than usual. She's slightly short, with heavy build - dense . Her muzzle and toes have a sliver tint to them. Her face is somewhat flat, and her eyes are yellowish green. She can see a bit better than usual.
Personality | If you like cats who are full of sunshine and happiness, then do not go to Swallowpelt. She has an "I tell it like it is" attitude. She will say the awkward, depressing, realistic things no one else wants to say because you know, they want some joy out of life. Swallowpelt considers joy "nice but unnecessary." Now go get some work done before she unleashes her medusa glare on you.
The only cats she holds any true affection for are her family - her mate, Otterfur, and her three kits. To them, she is still reserved, but has a quiet, deep love for them that is unbreakable. Not to say she won't still blatantly tell them what she thinks of them, but they're only reason for living, so she won't be too harsh on them. Not that she is a harsh cat - more passive aggressive than anything. She can take it as well as give it out - it takes a lot to get her riled up. If you insult her, chances are she'll brush it off. But insult her family - start making your eulogy, cause you're gonna need it soon.
Swallowpelt, despite her admirable work ethic for others, can be rather lazy sometimes. Eating and sleeping rank high among her favorite activities - not to say she won't serve her Clan, especially when it comes to fighting, but she'll find some way to get out of work if she can.
Skills | She's pretty good at tracking, sniffing every possible place where a cat could've stepped to trace their trail. Her hunting skills are fair. Fighting's a bit over average; she's not fast, but she can take quite a few blows because of her heavy frame and squish smaller cats easily for the same reason. She can't climb to save her life, as she hates heights.
History | Swallowkit's nose twitched. A new scent? Another kit beside her? She shrugged. It didn't seem too odd. Perhaps it had been there all along and she'd never noticed. She began to nurse again, and soon it seemed like the other kit had always been there.
Swallowkit's first four moons were an ordinary kit's life, with the exception of her missing father, Jaywhisker. Until the day her mother was dragged back dead, slaughtered by a fox. Swallowkit would always look to her big brother for reassurance. However, she lost some faith in him when she thought he valued friends over family. But she continued to live her life, though growing more and more withdrawn as time went on. She felt that there was too much pity, too much happiness even though her mother had been ripped to pieces. The other warriors didn't truly care about her, she thought. Only her siblings did; despite Shrikewhisker's acts, she knew she could trust him. She had to. As an apprentice, she learned well enough, but never had a real relationship with her mentor. But the source of Swallowpaw's future problems occurred on the eve of her warrior ceremony.
"Swallowpaw!" The solid gray apprentice padded over to Spottedfoot, her mentor. "Your final assessment is today, Swallowpaw. Just catch plenty of prey, and you'll be fine." The tortoiseshell warrior grinned in what was supposed to be a reassuring way, but instead made Swallowpaw turn away from her without speaking a word. "Mouse-brain." She mumbled under breath. As if she didn't know about the assessment. She padded off into the forest, hoping to get a bit of peace before the assessment with her, Shrikepaw, and Sootpaw. She stepped along quietly, absorbed in her own thoughts. She was so absorbed she didn't notice the reek of fox in the air, or the eyes that followed her from the underbrush. It was only in the few seconds before the fox pounced she thought something might be wrong. She realized that fox scent was all around her, and began to tense into a fighting stance when with a triumphant snarl, the heavy red-furred animal was upon her. The wind was knocked out of the gray she-cat as she tumbled under the beast's huge weight. It snapped at the side of her head and she felt a torrent of blood down the side of her face. This only fueled her rage as she yanked one of her forelegs from under the fox to slash at its side. The bats howled and leaped off her. Swallowpaw jumped backwards, hissing in fear and rage. What if this was the same fox that had killed her mother? Would it kill her too? A burst of rage swept aside all thoughts as she leaped through the air to land on the fox's back, where it thrashed and clawed for what seemed forever...she felt blood wet on her back, legs, and face as she tumbled around. White spots flashed before her eyes, but she gritted her teeth in an effort to stay conscious. She raked the russet animal's side deeply and long, and it let put such a scream of pain when it shook her off and fled that she felt half-deafened. She lay there for a moment while she heard warriors come rushing towards her before unconsciousness claimed her and she knew no more.
She later woke up in the medicine cat den, with poultices plastered all over her body and almost no pain. She breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wasn't dead. She padded carefully outside, then stopped with a jolt as she remembered her warrior ceremony. A gasp escaped Swallowpaw at the thought and she rushed over to Spottedfoot, who was sitting outside the warriors' den. "Spottedfoot!" She exclaimed. "I can still be a warrior, right, Spottedfoot?" Her mentor avoided her gaze. "OF course you can, Swallowpaw. I've talked with Brownstar and he decided that because of your bravery in battling the fox, you can become a warrior." Spottedfoot's tone was flat, and her amber eyes didn't meet her apprentice's. Puzzled, Swallowpaw began to open her mouth to ask a question when a small puddle nearby caught her eye. She bent over a little to look into it, and let out a yowl of remorse upon seeing her now forever scarred visage.
When ForestClan split, she decided to go with the rebels to try and start a new life. She'd lost faith in StarClan a long time ago, so she decided to join PineClan with Sootstorm and Shrikewhisker. She found it fairly easy settling in there, since there were far less ForestClan cats who would be uncomfortable around her, and new cats who get used to her more easily, she thought. She was deeply happy when she met Otterfur, loving his goofiness and loyalty to everyone in PineClan. Maybe he'd like her too, in spite of her scars. His jolliness made her feel better every time she was around him. Her love for the brown warrior made her think that maybe, just maybe, her future was bright.
Swallowpelt soon had her kits and though annoying they sometimes were, she loved them and enjoyed raising them through their kithood. The existence of her children and mate has made her somewhat more bearable. She was so proud when they were apprenticed - Crowpaw especially.
Moons later, her son is now a medicine cat, though she'll admit, (reluctantly) that she hasn't seen him in moons. Willowpaw, too, is likewise busy.
Gender | she-cat
Age | 40 moons
Rank | warrior
Clan | Pine
Beliefs| Swallowpelt has mellowed slightly in her sneering disbelief, but that's not to say she doesn't still think the idea of StarClan is crazy. She still thinks FogClanners are a bunch of mouse-brains and that "prophecies" and "signs" are superstitious nonsense. But mostly, she doesn't really care - unless someone shoves StarClan at her, she'll just as happily not discuss it as insult it. She has better things to do, after all.
Parents | Greyfur-(mother)-dead Jaywhisker-(father)-dead
Siblings | Shrikewhisker-NP (brother) Sootstorm-NP (played by Paije) sister
Other Kin | None
Mate | Otterfur-(NP)
Crush | Not yet
Kits | Elmpaw-tom-(NP) Crowflower-tom-(played by Glowy) Willowpaw-she-cat-(played by Whiskers)
Apprentice/Mentor | None
Appearance | Swallowpelt is a very dark gray color, almost black. Her fur is very long, just like her tail. She is scarred in many places as a result of getting mauled by a fox when she was an apprentice. Her whiskers are white and a bit shorter than usual. She's slightly short, with heavy build - dense . Her muzzle and toes have a sliver tint to them. Her face is somewhat flat, and her eyes are yellowish green. She can see a bit better than usual.
Personality | If you like cats who are full of sunshine and happiness, then do not go to Swallowpelt. She has an "I tell it like it is" attitude. She will say the awkward, depressing, realistic things no one else wants to say because you know, they want some joy out of life. Swallowpelt considers joy "nice but unnecessary." Now go get some work done before she unleashes her medusa glare on you.
The only cats she holds any true affection for are her family - her mate, Otterfur, and her three kits. To them, she is still reserved, but has a quiet, deep love for them that is unbreakable. Not to say she won't still blatantly tell them what she thinks of them, but they're only reason for living, so she won't be too harsh on them. Not that she is a harsh cat - more passive aggressive than anything. She can take it as well as give it out - it takes a lot to get her riled up. If you insult her, chances are she'll brush it off. But insult her family - start making your eulogy, cause you're gonna need it soon.
Swallowpelt, despite her admirable work ethic for others, can be rather lazy sometimes. Eating and sleeping rank high among her favorite activities - not to say she won't serve her Clan, especially when it comes to fighting, but she'll find some way to get out of work if she can.
Skills | She's pretty good at tracking, sniffing every possible place where a cat could've stepped to trace their trail. Her hunting skills are fair. Fighting's a bit over average; she's not fast, but she can take quite a few blows because of her heavy frame and squish smaller cats easily for the same reason. She can't climb to save her life, as she hates heights.
History | Swallowkit's nose twitched. A new scent? Another kit beside her? She shrugged. It didn't seem too odd. Perhaps it had been there all along and she'd never noticed. She began to nurse again, and soon it seemed like the other kit had always been there.
Swallowkit's first four moons were an ordinary kit's life, with the exception of her missing father, Jaywhisker. Until the day her mother was dragged back dead, slaughtered by a fox. Swallowkit would always look to her big brother for reassurance. However, she lost some faith in him when she thought he valued friends over family. But she continued to live her life, though growing more and more withdrawn as time went on. She felt that there was too much pity, too much happiness even though her mother had been ripped to pieces. The other warriors didn't truly care about her, she thought. Only her siblings did; despite Shrikewhisker's acts, she knew she could trust him. She had to. As an apprentice, she learned well enough, but never had a real relationship with her mentor. But the source of Swallowpaw's future problems occurred on the eve of her warrior ceremony.
"Swallowpaw!" The solid gray apprentice padded over to Spottedfoot, her mentor. "Your final assessment is today, Swallowpaw. Just catch plenty of prey, and you'll be fine." The tortoiseshell warrior grinned in what was supposed to be a reassuring way, but instead made Swallowpaw turn away from her without speaking a word. "Mouse-brain." She mumbled under breath. As if she didn't know about the assessment. She padded off into the forest, hoping to get a bit of peace before the assessment with her, Shrikepaw, and Sootpaw. She stepped along quietly, absorbed in her own thoughts. She was so absorbed she didn't notice the reek of fox in the air, or the eyes that followed her from the underbrush. It was only in the few seconds before the fox pounced she thought something might be wrong. She realized that fox scent was all around her, and began to tense into a fighting stance when with a triumphant snarl, the heavy red-furred animal was upon her. The wind was knocked out of the gray she-cat as she tumbled under the beast's huge weight. It snapped at the side of her head and she felt a torrent of blood down the side of her face. This only fueled her rage as she yanked one of her forelegs from under the fox to slash at its side. The bats howled and leaped off her. Swallowpaw jumped backwards, hissing in fear and rage. What if this was the same fox that had killed her mother? Would it kill her too? A burst of rage swept aside all thoughts as she leaped through the air to land on the fox's back, where it thrashed and clawed for what seemed forever...she felt blood wet on her back, legs, and face as she tumbled around. White spots flashed before her eyes, but she gritted her teeth in an effort to stay conscious. She raked the russet animal's side deeply and long, and it let put such a scream of pain when it shook her off and fled that she felt half-deafened. She lay there for a moment while she heard warriors come rushing towards her before unconsciousness claimed her and she knew no more.
She later woke up in the medicine cat den, with poultices plastered all over her body and almost no pain. She breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wasn't dead. She padded carefully outside, then stopped with a jolt as she remembered her warrior ceremony. A gasp escaped Swallowpaw at the thought and she rushed over to Spottedfoot, who was sitting outside the warriors' den. "Spottedfoot!" She exclaimed. "I can still be a warrior, right, Spottedfoot?" Her mentor avoided her gaze. "OF course you can, Swallowpaw. I've talked with Brownstar and he decided that because of your bravery in battling the fox, you can become a warrior." Spottedfoot's tone was flat, and her amber eyes didn't meet her apprentice's. Puzzled, Swallowpaw began to open her mouth to ask a question when a small puddle nearby caught her eye. She bent over a little to look into it, and let out a yowl of remorse upon seeing her now forever scarred visage.
When ForestClan split, she decided to go with the rebels to try and start a new life. She'd lost faith in StarClan a long time ago, so she decided to join PineClan with Sootstorm and Shrikewhisker. She found it fairly easy settling in there, since there were far less ForestClan cats who would be uncomfortable around her, and new cats who get used to her more easily, she thought. She was deeply happy when she met Otterfur, loving his goofiness and loyalty to everyone in PineClan. Maybe he'd like her too, in spite of her scars. His jolliness made her feel better every time she was around him. Her love for the brown warrior made her think that maybe, just maybe, her future was bright.
Swallowpelt soon had her kits and though annoying they sometimes were, she loved them and enjoyed raising them through their kithood. The existence of her children and mate has made her somewhat more bearable. She was so proud when they were apprenticed - Crowpaw especially.
Moons later, her son is now a medicine cat, though she'll admit, (reluctantly) that she hasn't seen him in moons. Willowpaw, too, is likewise busy.