Seedpaw

[Remi]

About Your Character:[/b]

Name: Seedpaw
Rank: Medicine Cat Apprentice (maybe )
Gender: Tom
Age: 9 moons?
Clan: Paleclan

Beliefs:

He believes in Starclan; what good would he be as a future medicine cat if he did not believe in his ancestors who roamed Silverpelt? He feels it is his duty to believe in them and he would hate to think of an existence without divine help to protect him and his clan from unthinkable horrors. The storm was one of those horrors. Maybe Starclan was trying to warn them? But…why would they be trying to do that…?

Apprentice/Mentor:

If accepted, he will be Reedstripe’s apprentice.

Kin:

Father- Rootclaw {Killed in a territory fight just before the storm.}
Mother- Brightflower {NPC}
Siblings- Spiderkit {NPC}, Fernkit {NPC}, Lark-kit {Killed by an owl.}

Mate:

Not allowed.


Appearance:

Seedpaw is a cream-colored tabby. The underside of his pelt is pale and it gradually melts into a subtle tan area of fur that stretches across the length and width of his back. The tan color also shows up in soft stripes that coil about his forelegs; it slinks down his face and under his eyes, kissing his ears with the darker cream and yet never shading the light areas in between each marking. Soft fur grows in long patches on his chest and the rest of his pelt is rather thick. The fur on his tail is long and tends to frizz out some before it rains and the air is thick with humidity. His front paws are rather large (a trademark of Rootclaw) and they do rather well whenever Seedpaw has to dig up certain roots. Long, white whiskers frame a deep-pink nose on his muzzle and his eyes are dark green, molded with some neutral colors to pale them and give them the appearance of a stone with green tint. He is sometimes referred to as ‘little’ by those who knew his father and how large HE was, but Seedpaw is normal-sized for an apprentice. He looks a lot like his mother, Brightflower.


Personality:

It was an unexpected situation that the only male of Rootclaw and Brightflower’s litter would be as meek as a mouse. Whenever there was a wrestling match in the nursery, it would always be his sisters who started it and he would always be mewling for help underneath a furious storm of his littermates. He was a kit who liked to wander a little ways off and on his own, but he did enjoy company every now and then…just the company that didn’t treat him to many playful bites. He was always in awe of Rootclaw and felt insignificant under his amber gaze whenever the young kit slunk away from a fight with his tail between his legs to signal that he’d had enough and he simply wanted to sleep next to Brightflower because she would keep him safe.

As a medicine cat apprentice, Seedpaw felt like an even bigger disgrace. The only way to make Rootclaw proud of him was to become a warrior with a reputation as bulging as the golden-brown tom’s. It frustrated him to no end, but he did not let his new mentor see the reluctance and shame he held tightly in his chest as he gave a pleased smile.

He feels as if his reluctance on the manner could have possibly made Starclan angry. Maybe he was crippling his mentor with this and maybe that was why the storm could not be sensed.

Despite his inner woes, Seedpaw is gentle and likes to help the other clan cats when they are sick. He loves to go on herb-outings as it gives him a reason to see the territory more. He never did like fighting and tries to avoid it and any other actions that might tease coughs out of his furry chest.

History:

A golden brown tom sat in the doorway to the nursery, amber eyes watching the antics of kits that had only opened their bright eyes a few days ago. Some, Spiderkit, Fernkit and Seedkit huddled close to the cream-colored side of their mother while a more adventurous Lark-kit fought her way over dirt speck after dirt speck just to stand beneath the heroic form that was Rootclaw. As the ball of fuzz began to nibble and bat at his huge paw, Rootclaw chuckled, being extra careful not to hit back…too hard. Turning a hypnotic amber gaze to the long-furred queen he had fallen so terribly in love with, he purred in approval as she roused from what seemed to be a light nap. “How are they, Brightflower?” His voice was rough, caring, concerned…if she had any woes, anything wrong he would fight neck and tooth to get it for her, it was simply the way he was.

She smiled, lovely green eyes drooping in silent satisfaction that only a mother can experience while cuddling with her young ones and keeping them safe from harm. “Hungry, as always.” She wrinkled her nose in such a comical way when she felt the three bundles began to stir with life at her belly that Rootclaw laughed, terribly amused. “You let them climb all over you and then we’ll see who's laughing.” The queen replied as sweetly as poisoned honey before her expression of delight changed to that of business and of concern. “Seedkit has been coughing a lot lately. I don’t think it’s that serious but… can you send for some coughing herbs just in case? I don’t want the others catching it.”


Rootclaw frowned at the possible threat to his family. “We’ll check him as soon as possible.”

---

Seedkit always seemed to cough. Even though the medicine cat found no trace of green, white or black cough in him, the kit would give snuffled, quiet coughs at the most peculiar intervals. As he grew closer and closer to apprentice-hood, the problem diminished and he would cough a little after a few tossing and tumbling with his littermates, but some tansy and warm honey always seemed to quiet his spells down. No one ever caught the coughs, so everyone was happy. Seedkit was doing well with the inability to play for very long of course, but it was a defect that Brightflower would never question because what was a cough compared to the life of her kit? However, there was still the issue of him becoming an apprentice. A warrior could not pause in mid-leap to take his time and have a light coughing spell after he’s done a bit of quick, physical work. How would Seedkit ever be an apprentice to a warrior?

Though he wasn’t much into bouncing around and sinking his sharp little teeth into the flesh of his siblings due to how it would make him feel so miserable afterwards, Seedkit very much enjoyed exploring the overgrown brush that surrounded the nursery. It was a forest that he alone could hunt in, silently stalking through dandelion puffs and weeds with every shape and color, Seedkit would creep with his belly to the ground and sniff curiously at everything he came across. However, if a feisty cricket should leap out at him from the shadows of the brush, he would always stiffen, turn tail and bolt a few feet away from the chirping creature.

He was soft-hearted like his mother and he was sure that Rootclaw found more favor with his feisty sisters than himself. After Lark-kit wandered out of the den into the night and was snatched up by an owl, the remaining kits were kept under close scrutiny by their mother.

Eventually it was decided that he could not become a warrior’s apprentice simply because all the exercise and work that would include would not work well with a coughing cat. How would he hunt? How would he run or attack an enemy clan without giving himself away? He was useless until the medicine cat took him in, and for that he was extremely grateful.

When the storm came, he ran like any other cat would, coughing all the way but never stopping. He didn’t want to see the tunnel of a beast that sang in harsh sucking whispers for his blood.


Picture:


(Probably smaller than that because he's an apprentice.)

Roleplay Example:

Seedpaw sat precariously atop the trunk of a fallen gray oak while the sounds of romping apprentices reminded him that life went on; future warriors were still in training despite the horrific events that Starclan still, even now, wept over.

Their misty tears dampened his pale pelt and hung on each cream-colored hair like a dewdrop trapped in the web of a spider. What a web they were in now…tangled and confused while the spider descended for its wriggling lunch. He could feel it in his young, weak bones; he and any other cat associated with medicine or the divine right of power, they were struggling in the invisible web with him, awaiting judgment from the hurt, speculating clan.

Emerald-colored eyes shimmered with reminiscence at the task he had been given and he shook away daydreams and remembered himself. Uncurling from the pensive ball he had tucked into, Seedpaw roused himself by stretching each limb and flicked his tail from side to side in awareness.

For the kit of a brute warrior, his frame held a certain delicate allure which most she-cats seemed to grow into. He was by no means undersized and though he seemed a bit scraggly around the edges, he was definitely not starving. The soft cream fur was his mother’s trademark and her gentle ways laced his every move. No, he was not like the cat who had fathered him at all. Although somewhat delicate, Seedpaw was still just an apprentice and apprentices tended to grow like the weeds that made him sneeze when he was only a kit and snuffled at anything and everything he could carelessly stick his nose into.

Sighing, he unsheathed his claws and dug them into a pasty patch of lichen that grew upon the corpse of the once proud tree. The growth felt spongy in-between his paws and silently he cursed himself at his mouse-brained audacity to collect herbs in wet weather. He could always dry the lichen out, but it was un-needed work that his mentor would surely disapprove of.

It happened so suddenly that Seedpaw’s ears barely had time to flicker back in aggression before something barreled into him from behind, sent him tumbling off his perch, and just as he had a mouthful of lichen too.

Grabbing for a foothold on the muddy ground, he had little time to prepare himself before a dirty paw cuffed him between the eyes; Seedpaw stood stock-still, shocked.

“You’re no better than a kitty-pet; can’t do nothin’ but scratch up grass, huh? Medicine cats…surprise-attack’m and they stand there as cowed as kits~!” The rowdy voice of a newly made apprentice jostled him from honest confusion. Testily he dug his claws into the ground as he accessed the bold stranger.

“I don’t expect surprise attacks from my own clan.” He replied dryly while attempting to scrape the discarded lichen into yet another pile. The young apprentice scowled before a look of wicked triumph spread over his dark, calculating face. “For Rootclaw being so strong and big, you’re a bit of a skimpy disappointment. I was expectin’ you to be bigger!”

The words stung like paw pads rubbed raw on the Thunderpath; the words…he’d heard them far too often for his liking. So he had been a bit sickly as a kit compared to his rambunctious littermates, so what? So he hadn’t grown into his father’s fur yet…so what? The fact that he had been chosen for the role of medicine cat apprentice had made the point ever clear – he would never be his father. How could a medicine cat be anything like a strong, proud warrior? His sullen glare seemed to delight the antagonist who was itching for a playful brawl.

“What? You gonna fight me? Why don’t you go pick some flowers like you’re supposed to? ‘Talk to your Starclan buddies even though it’s just an excuse so that you won’t have to fight. Medicine cats are a’buncha cowards!”

Seedpaw marveled at the ignorant kit’s opinion; it had obviously been warped by some other influence…a queen who silently complained to her kits how the storm that killed their father was brought about by the foolishness of medicine cats who could not see the impending doom. “It’s not like that!” He hissed. “It never was… Don’t you think that we would do everything in our power to stop destruction of our clan?” He felt as if a thistle had become lodged in his throat as he spoke with the voice no different from any cat filled with loss. “It wasn’t our fault-“

“It was Starclans fault, then. They don’t care about us anymore- you or any other cats trying to get some higher place than the rest of us…your words are no better than kit’s breath.” With a snort of satisfaction, the apprentice’s ears cocked and swiveled to the right. Hissing in annoyance, he gave a pointedly venomous look towards Seedpaw before romping off to meet whoever had called him.

Seedpaw did not turn to watch him go and instead kept his eyes trained on the lichen he’d scratched up which sat muddy and rebuked at his paws. “Starclan… why is this happening?” The mumble was quiet and was absorbed into the ground like the rain that was growing considerably harder. “I wish…I could know.”

If Rootclaw was watching him, perhaps he was laughing. Perhaps the answer to their problems was right under their mouse-brained noses.


Your Own Activity Level:

Red motivates me to be active… Very very active. ; D

I have a computer and I check it everyday. =x



(Should 'mild kitty asthma' go under mutations board? o-O)