Clayfang;; The Deciever

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CLAYFANG

Name|
Clayfang

Gender|
Tom

Age|
Sixteen Moons

Rank|
Warrior

Clan|
Streamclan

Beliefs|
Clayfang believes in Starclan like a he does his claws-- which is saying something. Without Starclan, Clayfang might as well be a dog. He has no sense of morals: only Starclan leads Clayfang's path and gives him what little honor he has. No one else.

Parents|
Mother: Valayra (Farm Cat, Rogue) [NP] x Father: Quinn (Farm Cat, Rogue) [NP]

Siblings|
Younger Brother: Harold (Farm Cat, Rogue) [NP] and Other Younger Brother: Butch. (Farm Cat, Rogue) [NP]

Other Kin|
Cousin: Lenny (Farm Cat, Rogue) [NP] and Other Cousin: Tony (Farm Cat, Rogue) [NP]

Mate|
None yet.

Crush|
None yet.

Kits|
None yet.

Apprentice/Mentor|
None yet.

Appearance|
Clayfang is a long-haired (not semi-long) maine coon with dark wood colored eyes; a large build, limber-- muscular but not bulky.

Starting from his head, Clayfang has small ears, dark red nose with black outline, white lips, and whiskers that stand out against his multi-colored face; which is mixed with tan, black, darker tan, white on his eyebrows, and the markings on his forehead are brownish black, turning darker the more you move down his back.

His neck is adorned with light brown "fans" that have some tan and darker brown on them; the edges of these "fans" curving upwards slightly. Clayfang's shoulder and elbow fur poof outward, giving him a bulky look. His hip fur does the same affect, when truthfully Clayfang is all fur, that bulky look created by his long, untamed pelt.

Clayfang has long, limber legs with large paws; good for giving the enemy a whallop to the head-- can we save concusion, anyone?-- and with equally large claws (but not too large) that hide beneath Clayfang's toe-fur. His legs have black stripes on them with faint brown-- his feet containing some orange to them. But not much.

His belly is pure brown with white dash on his chest-- not much to look at here, people.

Last but not least, hanging from Clayfang's hips is his large, poofy, and semi-short tail that always seems to be twisted in a odd curl. The tip and underneath of Clayfang's tail is black; while the rest is brownish-tan with darker stripes on it.

Personality|
I'll give you three reasons why most people don't like or mess with Clayfang--

Sadistic: Clayfang enjoys hurting others. He revels in the leisure of pain that he brings from his claws and fangs. Apparently pain and fear go hand-in-hand for Clayfang; he laps up terror like its cold milk on a hot Green-Leaf day.

Cold: At times Clayfang is cold and devoided of emotion-- some say it was the winter winds that made him so. He holds no mercy for the weak, the injured, or the young-- if they show an openning for attack, he'll make sure they wont live long enough to regret it.

Barbaric: Clayfang is the walking, talking-- breaving-- deffinition of Barbaric. He has no manners, no honor, and no morals-- the only thing is the warrior code (which, sadly, is twisted often by Clayfang to meet his standards) that keeps the barbarian in place. He shows much digust and annoyance for others of his clan; despises them because they're "frolicing pansies" and that they have no sense of true Warriors: show no pity. "You are Warriors; NOT PREY. Act like it!!"

And I pity whoever Clayfang mentors-- Starclan rest your soul, apprentice!

Skills|
Clayfang is one of the best brawlers around-- not to brag or anything, but cats who fight dirty usually end up winning. Expecially in Clayfang's case.

Clayfang likes to fight dirty-- he'll pull out all his tricks just to humilate a cat before finally ending them. He doesn't like it when they run away-- because running away means they got away.

And no. Nada-- Clayfang doesn't like that one bit, now does he? Oh, no-- not at all!

So, Clayfang usually gives chase to the run away; though he isn't the greatest runner, I promise you this: he will flay the fur and skin off a cats bones once he catches them, make no mistake about that.

But back to the point.

Clayfang is an excellent fighter-- he has claws and he knows how to use them; but he prefers his fangs because they deal with haveing to use your muzzle in a battle: and, let me tell you; Clayfang likes the taste of blood. A bit blood-thirsty, but otherwise he's a good Warrior when it comes to an all-out scuffle with the enemy.

Hunting, not so well.

Clayfang can't catch mice, hares, or squirrels; but he can catch birds, fish, and voles. He's mastered fishing; and birds and voles are much slower and easier to catch in Clayfang's opinion.

And his opinions are not to be taken lightly: he likes to be heard. He likes AUTHORITY.

So, he's good at setting his clan straight when they're in chaos, and has a sharp, strong voice that'll be used well when he mentors an apprentice.

He speaks, they listen.
...Or else.

History|
Clayfang-- known as Max (or Mad Max) back then-- is a former Farm Cat, rogue. Even if he was the oldest of his litter, Max was the smallest; his younger brothers constently ganging up on him as a kit.

This is the main reason why Max-- Clayfang-- is so cruel and spiteful. A bad childhood.

Cliche, I know-- but the truth stands like a dead tree in winter, down to it's twisted roots.

His mother, Valayra, taught him how to manipulate people-- his Father, Quinn, taught him every nook and tricks there was to know. The two were his trickster parents, and even though Max didn't show it, he loved them with all of his heart.

"Brawn isn't everything, my son-- but deciet and fraud is. Learn, kit, and you too will become a true traitor some day: knowlege is power!

Love doesn't mean good influences, though.

Even if they were bad, they were a happy farm family; despite their indifferentism. (Omg. That's an actual word! xD )

Then, one day-- when Max was twelve moons old-- Max stumbled upon a group of cats that called themselves Streamclan.

Max found it ironic that he had found them by a stream, but said nothing about it as he listend to their story-- the journey, finding there new home, and then-- then they invited him to join their clan.

It was a new clan-- or clans, I should say-- that had just been made a moon ago.

Max knew he shouldn't-- but he did.

He accepted their offer: and return, unkowing to them, he would become a deciever. If not by much, slowly.... he would.

Max-- now Clayfang-- never thought he would have become attatched to this clan-- Streamclan-- so very quickly. Like a new family...

Perhaps.... he could delay being a deciever-- a traitor.

And perhaps Clayfang could find better influences... here.

As a Streamclan warrior!

There are no such things as bad or good influences. Just options-- and I have already chosen mine. ~Clayfang