Post by Crush on Aug 3, 2011 11:19:38 GMT -5
stormchaser
WILD WERE THE WINDS THAT CAME
IN THE THUNDER AND THE RAIN
NO ONE EVER COULD CONTAIN
THE RISING OF THE STORM
WILD WERE THE WINDS THAT CAME
IN THE THUNDER AND THE RAIN
NO ONE EVER COULD CONTAIN
THE RISING OF THE STORM
NAME... Stormchaser
AGE... Thirty eight moons
GENDER... Male
CLAN... Seaclan
POSITION... Deputy
APPEARANCE...Stormchaser is, no doubt, a rather handsome feline. His coat is long and silky with the layer of shorter fur just underneath it that all Turkish Vans have, and he is most certainly a Turkish Van. :e is built to swim, with his fur slicking water off before it ever gets wet, the longer hair thin enough that it never weighs him down and dries out quickly. This, along with the unusual, slight webbing between each toe makes him a classic example of his breed. His tail is covered in bright orange fur with faint tabby stripes, something the matches the bonnet of color that covers the top of his head and his ears. The bonnet only half covers each eye, with the inner halves of his eyes being surrounded instead but the clean, white fur that coats the rest of his body. He keeps remarkably clean, constantly swimming around in rivers and even the ocean waves.
Of course, there is more to any cat than their fur. His eyes are a medium-dark shade of green-brown and can be considered quite large and expressive. His body, underneath all that fur, is actually quite thin and lithe, at least considering his breed. He is small for a male of his breed, weighing in at only fourteen pounds, usually the weight of a heavy female. He is, however, long, with his full length,including tail, measuring two feet and ten inches, with about half of that being his tail.
PERSONALITY...They say that the moment Stormchaser opened his eyes, he drew a vicious storm within himself to save his clan, and it isn't difficult to figure out why this small rumor has grown to be the story told to each newborn kit, a tale that defines him so thoroughly. He is completely and entirely unpredictable, just like any sort of storm. One moment he can be calm, like the waters of the ocean before a large storm. The next, he can be as animated as the lightning dancing across the sky. Throw him into battle and he has the fierceness of a torrential downpour, and a battle cry louder than thunder. Just like the weather, he can flip between each mood in mere blink of an eye.
However, just like storms, he is also reliable. You always know a storm will come, eventually, and break the humid summer air. Just like the crack of thunder on a hot summer's eve, you know Storm will be bound to show up at your side to listen, give advice, or fight for you if you need him. He might be a little late, as he's never kept good track of time, but he will definitely be there.
As unpredictable as his mood is, you always know one thing will stay the same; Stormchaser has always been, and will always be, reckless. He will throw himself head first into something without a second thought simply because he is needed, or thinks he is. This is sort of attitude that possesses him to jump into the wild waves of the ocean in a storm to save another, or to openly state his judgement whether it is openly acceptable or not. He doesn't care what others think of him, he believes that it is only his own thoughts on himself that truly matter. You'd have a hard time making him doubt himself at all, and if you do manage, trust me, he won't be down for long.
HISTORY...The first few weeks of Stormchaser's life were simple; his mother, Dewdrop, and father, Sunshadow, were almost always present, and he was often curled up close to his only sibling, a she-cat who was never named. Dewdrop refused to name the kits until they were both able to see and hear, a decision that was respected.
She probably should have just named them and been done with it, though, for soon enough came a vicious summer storm that had the sea whipped up into a frenzy. Even the bravest Seaclanner ran for the beach and the forest beyond it. Sunshadow was not fast enough, and the waves took him and Stormkit's sister under. Indeed, even Dewdrop, carrying all that was left of her family, was not fast enough to outrun the storm. And yet, somehow, against all odds, the little white and orange tom managed to pull himself out of the waves in order to be scooped up by another warrior.
It was a half hour later when the kit opened his eyes and, just like that, the storm died down and quickly ceased. The elders say that he took the storm within his own soul that day, taking the burden upon his own heart in order to save his clan. He thinks it is poppycock, of course, but there would seem to be some truth to it, if you look at his personality since that day.
Weary, the clan made their way back to their camp, fur soaking wet and heads hung in grief for all the members they had lost. Before they grieved, though, they held a ceremony for the only kit to survive the weather. The whispered tales of how he had calmed the storm quickly led to his name becoming what it is, and he was handed off to a grieving queen who had lost the only kit she had had. Life was not easy, for she hardly wanted to care for this little beast who had survived when her own flesh and blood had not. Yet, she did it anyway, her own way of grieving the loss of her brother, Stormkit's father.
He grew up to be a large, strong apprentice, intelligent in a way most would envy, but reckless enough that they hardly gave him a second glance, labeling him as just another crazy young tom. And yet, when he hunted, he was like the storm that had nearly ended his life, rolling in silently, calmly, and then bursting into furious action that lasted such a short period of time that it seemed surreal. When he fought, it was like the wicked, wild dance of lightning and cracks of thunder that had flashed and echoed across the sky. Soon enough, his antics were forgotten with the shock at his natural ability.
Still, he wasn't about to become a warrior early. At least, that's what they thought. One moon before his warrior ceremony was supposed to be, another storm rolled in. It wasn't as bad, but the waves were huge. A fellow apprentice slipped and fell on the way to the beach and, reckless like always, he leaped after her. Again, he survived the vicious waves, dragging the other cat to safety with strong, sure strokes through the water. Rejoicing at the fact he had saved them from yet another loss, the leader gave him his warrior name; Stormchaser.
He was a reliable warrior. If you needed him, he was there. His personality was still a bit off, a little unpredictable, but nonetheless he got his first apprentice two moons later. Shadowpaw was a small thing, thin and frail, but he knew exactly how hard to push her and when to stop. At least, in order not to break her; she often felt he demanded too much, but he never asked for more than he knew she could handle. She began to realize this slowly, and as soon as she did, she flew through the training, finally willing to learn. She became a proud warrior, Shadowwhisker, with far more presence than she had ever had as a shy, quiet little apprentice, even though she hardly grew any.
He received another apprentice after that, Hailpaw. The tom was a quick learner, but ferocious in nature. His attitude set Stormchaser in a state of unease, but he needn't have worried. Two moons later there was a border skirmish and Seaclan lost both Hailpaw and Jaggedear, their deputy. The clan mourned, but knew that Jaggedear had been planning to retire to the elder's den within a moon or two anyway. None were surprised when Stormchaser was named deputy - well, none except Storm himself, of course. It hasn't been more than a week an he is definitely still trying to figure the role out, but he's trying by pretty much jumping head first into it, like he does with everything.