Post by madhatter on May 7, 2011 14:36:15 GMT -5
feathergale
SOFT AS A FEATHER ;; FIERCE AS A BIRD.
SOFT AS A FEATHER ;; FIERCE AS A BIRD.
NAME... Feathergale
AGE... 31 moons
GENDER... Female
CLAN... LeopardClan
POSITION... Warrior
SPECIES... Snow Leopard
APPEARANCE...Feather. Light? Airy? Dainty? These, key to her name, can be used to describe this small and slim leopardess, known for her size. Her stature is compact and her height is that of a younger leopard. Despite this, no cat could deny her strong clan-born muscles, bred from generation to generation, lean and wiry as to her LeopardClan roots. Her powerful limbs are medium-length and are riddled with sinew and perfect for very, very quick movement. She is in fact very fast, and can do a mighty fine show of hunting. Nimble dodging and fast-footed reflexes too. Her paws, refined and, yeah you guessed it, dainty, harbor thorn sharp claws, made to kill or inflict some serious injuries. Her head could be considered somewhere near triangular and is topped with two sloped, near round ears.
Covering her is a warm and thick pelt, designed for the colder months. Always is it well-groomed and free of obstructions. Her fur is a mixture of cream, snow white, and deep grey. These colors spot her limbs, the black splotches becoming less dominant throughout her back and midsection, fading into flecks of grey. Feathergale’s chest is pure white, like a stretch of freshly fallen snow. All four of her mittens are equally spotted, randomly dotted. Her fluffy, tapered tail is tipped with the same cold blackish grey that dapples her back, very distinct. Her facial features are just the same. Her chin and her delicate muzzle flaunt tiny spots, giving loose to long white whiskers. Her forehead and ears are again, black and are usually pricked in consideration. Needless to say, she blends quite well in the drab season of leaf-bare, unseen to all until she leaps.
Finally, Feathergale’s orbs. Almond in shape, seemingly rimmed in black, this she-cat’s optical glow. They are deeply inset and are a pale olive green, similar to a budding leaf. As par to her personality, they are usually filled with a caring smile or a fair gaze.
PERSONALITY...Feathergale. Warrior of WindClan. Loyal and trustworthy? Caring but firm? Perhaps.
Yes, this feline is the model warrior in the eyes of some. She is the kind of leopard who would never look for a reason to fight, but the kind who would first attempt to resolve it with words. She has a good head on her shoulders and will think through her decisions thoroughly before going through with them. She is easily insecure, and will often second-guess herself. It’s a flaw she has always had. Feathergale is normally pretty fair. She doesn’t hold grudges for too long or dwell upon a bad moment for longer than a suitable time. She is easy to talk to, and therefore can amass a good quantity of allies and is often come to with problems. Her caring nature can gain her many friends in dire times and daily life alike. She’s a hard cat to dislike- though it’s certainly not unheard of.
Her clan is like her kin, her blood. She is immensely caring and does whatever she can to protect her clan mates. She believes in a bit of tough love now and again and will be firm when she deems necessary. Some cats will see her as soft, and at some moments she truly is. On top of her ability to run as fast as the wind itself, she also has battle skills that have been honed from usage over the moons. Feathergale is protective, like all warriors should be and will be strong against cats that go against her own. Usually, and I will bold usually, she is calm in the face of chaos. If you do manage to anger her or push her past her limits however, Feathergale can be, well, not so understanding.
She doesn’t have too much against the other clans until they make it something, nor does she have too many pre-judgments about rogues and loners. Generally, as long as you stay on her good side, she will not only be your loyal companion, she will also be able to hold her own when it matters.
She dislikes secrets. No, really. She has the qualities to be a complete open book. Unfortunately, she often trusts too soon and forgives too easily and falls into bad situations. Feathergale appreciates the finer things, and prefers the more educated talks to the joking goofy ones of the apprentices. She has always loved mornings, and can become uneasy after dark. Because of this, she sleeps extremely light. Her mood can be considered pretty even most of the time, and is most likely going to be a dependable choice. A solid foundation with a few cracks, I suppose.
HISTORY...Feathergale, or Featherkit, was born on a quiet and sunny morning. The perfect, healthy birth. The clan was well-fed during that time, the birds were chirping, and the entire bulk of the wildcats were feeling upbeat. The litter of three kits was about the most eventful thing in a moon. The two parents, Goldenstream and Blazeclaw, were excited. Or, at least, Goldenstream was. Blazeclaw didn’t check in on them, nor did he ever want kits of his own. The relationship between Featherkit’s mother and father went sour. The tiny kit had two sisters, a lovely dappled leopardess named Kestrelkit, and a sweet brown and white-tipped girl with the name of Orchidkit. The beginning of Featherkit’s life was filled with warm fur and the young face of peering faces, checking in on her and her kin, eyes wide and brimming with curiosity. Her litter was the first in a long while, with only two queens in the nursery. One was Goldenstream and the other was expecting, due any day. Her and her siblings would saunter around the nursery, newly formed limbs moving awkwardly. Soon, they took and the three kits were running around and bowling into each other, occasionally bugging Littlefeather and her wide belly, querying what was wrong with it. Kestrelkit, the know-it-all, had all the answers to that question, of course. Featherkit was the smallest, the most soft-spoken, and was the one with the least potential. Or was she?
When Littlefeather’s litter of, ironically, all male kits, was born, Featherkit’s brood was ecstatic. New playmates and a new game; pick on the new additions. Her prized kittens, two strong and healthy beings, were only a moon, maybe less, younger than Featherkit, Kestrelkit, and Orchidkit. At the beginning, they got many a scolding from the queens of playing rough with the little ones. One was Coyotekit, a light tom, and the other was Daggerkit, who was a very dark, near-black leopard. Both showed potential, though one in particular more so. Daggerkit was aggressive, huge, and ambitious even as an infant. It really couldn’t end well. Despite his brother, Featherkit and Coyotekit became the best of friends growing up.
And the two stayed together all through kithood. They watched as Daggerkit grew, they saw Orchidkit moon over him, and they dreamed of being apprentices. The two were inseparable even when they began training. Featherkit, most unfortunately, managed to get a warrior who was not so happy about training such a cheery, caring kit. No, Cobrastrike, the father of Littlefeather’s kits, was not the happy sort. He wasn’t just huge, he was terrifying. It was Daggerkit on a whole other level. At first, she kept an open mind, treating him with respect and a sweet attitude. In some ways, she could thank him. If it wasn’t for his harsh and extreme training methods, she wouldn’t be as good at combat as she was now. Too bad he tried to break her in the process. So there she went until about eight moons, when the lion attacked.
It was a day like any other. Cold-hearted training, Coyotepaw still sleeping, the lazy lump, and Featherpaw out on a morning hunting trip. Alone, without protection or orders. She slipped through the forest, chasing a fluffy-tailed hare, when she heard heavy, heavy paw steps and suddenly a lumbering shape, a near-elder, scarred tan lion, lumber out of the nearest bush. A rogue. Featherpaw screeched in alarm and backed up a few paces, making a scrambling leap. Her brain fumbled for any of her training knowledge but none came. All she could manage was to give it a few scratces, hardly anything, before a stone sent her crashing down, and she looked with wide, horror-filled eyes as the wild-eyed lion raised a paw.
It was suddenly stopped as a dark shape flung itself at the beast, knocking it off of its paws and sending it careening into a jutting rock. The lion landed with a thud and got up, stunned. Daggerpaw gave it a few meaningful slashes, tearing at its fur, as it retreated, probably suffering from a lifetime’s worth of brain damage. Featherpaw was shocked by his escapade of bravery but was forever grateful. From then on, the two started talking, getting to know each other. Soon, the young leopardess was falling for him and Coyotepaw was pushed out of her mind. They laughed and hunted together, shared secrets and opinions. Orchidpaw was jealous, yes, but Featherpaw was blinded by the tom’s affections. She never suspected such a horrible act to come from Daggerpaw. She never saw it coming.
It was ironic. The day her sister was murdered was a day just like the one where Daggerpaw had saved her. Featherpaw was simply hunting, strong legs and sharp mind searching for a proper meal. She was now reaching twelve moons, getting close to her warrior ceremony. She didn’t allow Cobrastrike to damper her mood, and she had forced herself to try to excel under his harsh paw. Her sisters, or at least, Kestrelpaw, were her closest companions, next to Daggerpaw. Recently however, her sister had started acting strange. Touchy, moody, and suspicious. She tried to ask what was wrong, but got the cold shoulder and snapped growls until she just decided to let it go for now. Little Featherpaw heard a muted scream and she froze. Kestrelpaw? She darted through the leaves until she came near the sound and she peered from the bushes. Daggerpaw was standing over her limp body, a bloody claw and gleaming eyes, as if proud. The she-cat recoiled and ran, crashing through the brambles. Anything she ever had with him was gone, replaced with a furious anger and a fear stronger than a blizzard wind.
She went to the leader, she told him everything. Of course, he wasn’t convinced. Daggerpaw was a great young warrior, ambitious but loyal. Kestrelpaw must have found out something horrible about him and his father and he killed her to keep her quiet. What though, she had little idea. Her warrior ceremony came and went. Feathergale, Orchidflower, Daggershard, and Coyotewind. Her mother and father, coming upon their older moons, moved on to the Elders’ den and Daggershard made a point of becoming mates with Feathergale. When she confronted him about Kestrelpaw, he, without pause, denied it. She stopped talking to him, making stronger relationships with Orchidflower and Coyotewind. On her fourteenth moon, the murderer finally followed up with her. He found her in the moor and threatened to kill her and everyone she loved if she told anyone anything. A plan to overthrow the leader. Cobrastrike appeared behind him and made the same promise. She spat at them and one lunged at her. If it weren’t for Coyotewind leaping in front of his own father and taking the blow, she would have died. No, instead, his neck was the one snapped and he was the one that died. The last thing she heard from him was ‘I love you Feathergale.’ The femme had just the time to scramble away and go bounding through the forest, her paws churning with speed.
This time, the leader gave her a second thought, as did the deputy, stating that he had noticed suspicious behaviour from the pair. She explained her story to them and showed great care in protecting all of the clan mates. Daggershard and Cobrastrike were proclaimed guilty after a thorough search of the body and were exiled, sent away to be rogues far from LeopardClan territory. Where they are now, Feathergale has no idea. She mourned her losses, and moved on, just in time to get her first apprentice, who grew up to be a fine leopard indeed.
It was a good time for them. Her mother and father both passed on but she accepted it, knowing they would be in a better place and that they had lived good and long lives. Generally, her next moons were very peaceful. The occasional fox or the normal badger but not too much. Orchidflower, well, it was obvious her gazes were branching farther than their territory and into the unknown places of the rogues. It made little sense to Feathergale. Their clan was at peace, prey was high, and Orchidflower was well-liked by every clan member. Eventually, after seeing Orchidflower slack off on duties and neglect her apprentice, she talked to her sister. The she-cat broke down and told Feathergale about the love she was feeling for a rogue around her own age. How she couldn’t think about anything else. How she was planning on joining him and run away. Although bewildered, the warrior didn’t stop her. She watched as the last of her kin left her.
ooc- wooo(: first bio. and dayuummm that history looks reeaallly long on here o.o
