Shorttail

[ღC.YANIDE[xx]]

Name: Shorttail
Age: 23 Moons
Gender: Tom
Rank: Warrior
Clan: WindClan
Picture:

Quick Description: Spotted and striped yellow-eyed tom
Description: Shorttail is definitely not a cat you encounter often and hardly one you will forget. As his name suggests his tail is a bit of a novelty among the Clan because he was born without one. What little stub of a tail he has makes his haunches look elevated when he stands. The tom is a broad shouldered Warrior with a bristling white chest that is slightly tinted with gray but this could also be from lack of proper care. The base coat is a dark oak brown hue that has faint tawny strands scattered along it. Distinguishing ebony tinted stripes scrawled along his sides give the impression that he is longer or wider then he is in reality. Relatively short legs in comparison to others he is lower to the ground but is essentially stealthier than his Clanmates.

Aside from the stripes he also has spots dappling his coat, some of which are not black at all but are a very dark tone of brown. Elliptical fashioned eyes are colored like dried stalks of grass. His heels are ringed but fade away until they are lost completely and the dark brown dilutes to beige. Shorttail has a distinctive juncture of skin missing in his right ear from a fight as an apprentice that he seems to wear like a badge of honor.


Personality: Needless to say Shorttail is a bitter cat. He feels as if he has been slighted by StarClan for his mother's mistakes and had his tail stolen from him as a punishment. He can be overly sensitive about the lack of the appendage and resents the fact that he got the short end of this bargain. Generally he is a pensive, thoughtful Warrior but a very high strung one who is easily offended. He values his pride dislikes to be questioned by others whether it be his Leader or the Warriors he fights alongside. Such a cross time that it is sometimes hard to be around him without eventually getting into an argument. He is also very combative if not physically than verbally.

He will quite often say things simply to spurn other cats into fighting with him. When he isn't being bothered with everything he can actually be quite civil and carry a conversation without the addition of sarcasm. Relaxed, he is more understanding and has a willingness to listen to others opinions even if he does not think too much into others thoughts himself. He tends to rule out possibilities he does doesn't like and implements his own whether for better or worse. When he does find an idea that he likes Shorttail may be a different cat all together. He may even offer to help put it in motion.
History of WindClan's Freak
Kithood:
Days of blindness, warm bodies and shuffling forms of comfort brought nothing to a mind so young and impressionable until the day his eyes could finally blink to a new world. One of color and richness that, as a kit, he thoroughly intended to enjoy to the best of his abilities. The first few days of his newfound vision were blissful reminders of what is was like to live a feral cats life and to learn the essentials. The bare basics including, tumbling over his own paws, pouncing on his mother's tail, and swiping at an annoying sister who seemed perfectly keen on agitating him. However, it became time when his developing comprehension skills began to enter a more refined stage that he began to truly know emotion.

Before his world consisted of those who were happy to be in his presence or those who lingered at the mouth of the nursery. Now he could understand why some cats watched from afar or why others only looked at him in glances; why his mother had given him the name: Shortkit. It had nothing to do with his size. It was the cruel hereditary factor of not having a tail that brought later ridicule and anger to his life.

He continued to grow but finding it a very stressful ordeal. Other kits would question why he was without a tail, in return he questioned why they had one. It became more apparent though, that he was very different for the majority of cats, unless related to an injury, had a tail. He and his sister Rabbitkit were not as they. It was later toward his apprenticeship that he thought to ask the one whom he called mother, why he was just that much different.
Apprentice:
Six Moons. Six moons and he was no better off then he had been at five, the only differences being in size, in name, and in demeanor, which quite frankly rarely displayed anything but fury and spite.

Shortkit who had become Shortpaw overnight could find no reason why his Clan should look upon him with such disapproval. Why other Apprentices mocked him and his sister for their tailless bodies. Or why ever time he looked over his shoulder there was at least one cat watching him with beady eyes. He nor his sister could figure out why they were such a commodity or as to what the cause of their strangeness was. The truth was brought into light by his mentor, Nighteye.

Nighteye did not show his apprentice any particular resentment, nor did he portray any distinctive joy in having him around. The tom would run him ragged all day until his paws were plump, pink and sore from the work and then neglect him for a day under the assumption that 'only a cat of full Warriors blood could withstand the treatment.' It was a confusing and very aggravating excuse to not train him and it wore heavily on Shortpaw.

In such constant anger and unhappiness he envied his sister's pleasant persona. Rabbitpaw seemed unfazed by the treatment whereas he was always positively aching. But then again her mentor was Whitenose, not a very harsh Warrior in the least. Whitenose next to Nighteye was like a rabbit next to a dog. Despite that he did what he could not to lash out at the jeers from the younger cats, even the kits seemed to enjoy poking fun at him in the form of irritating questions as to why his rear showed and why his back seemed permanently arched. It was inevitable that his nerves would not last him and he was exerting more energy in fighting his Clanmates rather than on the tasks put in front of him.

After one particular scuffle that had left him with a split nose and torn right ear his mother, Ashleaf came to nurse his wounds after having him looked at by the Medicine Cat. It was then he spoke, mostly out of anger, as to why she had given birth to two tailless freaks when she herself had one. Ashleaf had been very quite for a long time before she told him and Shortpaw could tell it hurt her greatly to speak of it.

Apparently she had let herself be seduced by a kittypet tom when she was out hunting one day in Leaf-Fall. The tom had been named Silo and he himself did not have a tail because he was a different breed of cat, one that Two-legs bred to gain the no-tailed effect. She had mated with him under the impression that she loved him but Ashleaf was quick to tell Shortpaw that she knew it was a mistake. Had Shortpaw and Rabbitpaw been born with tails they could have easily been passed for WindClan cats, but born with the hereditary defect of Silo it was obvious that they were half-breeds - and it wasn't customary for Clan cats to have kittypet lovers, or kits for that matter.

Astounded by the news Shortpaw could find no reason not to dislike Ashleaf. She had suckled him, she had cared for him, she had given him life, but she had given him a cursed life. He would forever hate Ashleaf.
Warrior:
Shortpaw had ended up telling Rabbitpaw the nature of their mother's folly but the she-cat did not seem so enraged as he. Shortpaw continued to carry his animosity long into the moons of his Apprenticeship and even went as far as to refuse to be near Ashleaf at times. On the off occasion that they were together, such as at a Gathering, he made it very clear he would have nothing to do with her by sitting as far from her as possible without joining the ranks of another Clan.

It finally came time for him to become a Warrior, the long awaited ceremony was not without trouble when one of the other toms who would be joining their vigil hissed at him words that none had dared speak. "Why are we letting some kittypet half-breed have the opportunity to become a Warrior?" It was a question that had burdened the minds of many but none had the audacity to speak in the presence of Ashleaf, Shortpaw, Rabbitpaw or their Leader. And for good reason.

Bigger, stronger and so much more hateful now, Shortpaw launched himself at the tom and the Camp became a choir of painful yowls, alarmed screeches and havoc. The leader and Deputy had to separate the two toms who would most likely rip each other to bits if allowed to fight it out. They decided to withhold the two an entire moon more before they could receive their Warrior status. Rabbitpaw went on to become Rabbitwind without her brother.
Life to Date
He has finally become a Warrior. Having been an apprentice until he was nineteen moons he rejoices at leaving that den of horrors for one of stifled hostility and uncertainty. He does feel as though his name was just to spite him, Shorttail. As though the obvious needed to be voiced every time someone called for him.
RP Example:
Life dictated that as you progress through your existence that you gradually decompose until your genetic makeup topples in onto itself with age. The immunities, once a formidable force to collectively rid the body of infection or dangerous components, weakened substantially until even the foods you consumed had the ability to sicken you.

Birth and eventual death were consistencies none had the power to break and as time advanced there were subtle differences in Mother Nature's actions as she too began to wither. For nothing is eternal nor beyond rebirth but many could attest that this is not entirely true. A great number of species rose and fell seeking the fabled longevity that came with being blessed by spirits or alleged places where water flowed, containing the ability to prolong a beings life expectancy. And although never had such things been proven, they had never been disproved either.

Earth was the only one who knew of such whereabouts and tucked within her thickets and nests were the secrets that entities yearned to discover but never reached their goal. Mother Nature protected these mysteries because she herself intended to use it to replenish herself as time ravaged her soul and others wounded her. It came to a point when her best simply was no good enough and from her hidden coves she could not repair herself as she needed; she needed aid if she was to keep herself from fading as so many of the mythical deities had before her. Thus she hollowed a tree fashioned from an ancient sycamore to create a new life to save herself. However she required a proper catalyst for the procedure and searched high and low for the being who would harbor a portion of her soul.

Humans were destructive, primitive and disrespectful; unsuitable candidates for her purposes. Birds were small and inadequate, easily influenced and hardly reliable. Reptiles were crafty and treacherous, staying loyal to none unless it benefited them. Felines were cynical and haughty; so much so they drove her half crazy. It finally fell on the canines, or more so the ancestors of the beasts that licked the heels of mankind; she turned to the wolves who held a deep respect for her and valued her above all else.
Codeword: Fences

[[ .. FALLEN .. ]]

-->Accepted, locked, and moved.