Cedarpaw;; headstrong

[neworleans]

[glow=red,2,300]Back off, I'll take you on

Headstrong to take on anyone[/glow]

Themesong- Headstrong

[shadow=red,left,300]Name | [/shadow] Cedarkit Cedarpaw

[shadow=red,left,300]Gender |[/shadow] Tom

[shadow=red,left,300]Age |[/shadow] 15 moons

[shadow=red,left,300]Rank |[/shadow] Kit Apprentice

[shadow=red,left,300]Clan |[/shadow] FogClan

[shadow=red,left,300]Beliefs|[/shadow] Cedarpaw believes firmly in StarClan. He hopes that they will guide him through his training so that he can be a great warrior. He also feels that Clan cats are superior to non-Clan cats, with the exception of his father (not Clan-born). When asked about his father by those who know, he gets very defensive. Cedarpaw has gender superiority issues as well, thinking that toms are better than she-cats.

[shadow=red,left,300]Parents |[/shadow] Mother- Darkwhisker. Short-furred black she-cat with yellow eyes. She was born and raised in the Clan, and has a strong hatred of outsiders. She is a bit of a hypocrite, though, in that she didn't seem to mind Smoky, later Smokepaw when he was accepted into ForestClan. When the one Clan separated on the Journey, he joined FogClan. He was given the name Smokeclaw when he had proved himself worthy of being a warrior.

Father- Smokeclaw. Long-furred black-and-grey tom with pale yellow eyes (Black Smoke Maine Coon). Originally a kittypet, his Twolegs brought him along when they moved to Colorado. He escaped, and lived on his own for several moons. He never really liked those Twolegs, and got away from them the moment he saw a chance.

[shadow=red,left,300]Siblings |[/shadow] Warblerpaw, his sister. He tends to think he's better than she is. He also thinks she's too emotionally soft, and therefore falls into the first group of cats in which he views his Clanmates.

[shadow=red,left,300]Other Kin |[/shadow] None

[shadow=red,left,300]Mate |[/shadow] Not yet- too young!

[shadow=red,left,300]Crush |[/shadow] Silverflower

[shadow=red,left,300]Kits |[/shadow] Not yet- too young!

[shadow=red,left,300]Mentor | [/shadow] Stonetail

[shadow=red,left,300]Appearance |[/shadow] Isn't he just adorable? Yeah. He'd claw your fur off if he heard you saying that (or at least try to). Cedarpaw is a small tabby tom.

His fur is short and light brown, covered with darker brown stripes. It's a bit coarse, though water makes it slick. Since fog is concentrated water vapor, Cedarpaw often gets water on his pelt.

His eyes are amber, a shade in between light and dark. If you look closely, he seems to have green flecks around his irises. They do not appear to show much emotion, due to the constant guard he puts up. If, say, he were to let his guard down (not likely), they may show a glimpse of what's going on inside his head.

His legs are long and slender, though not so long as to make him taller than normal or look oddly-proportioned. His whiskers are long, but they're more firm than droopy.

Cedarpaw's nose is a dark pink, almost brown, and rimmed with black.

His paws are a bit little and round-looking from the top, but their small size (and his, for that matter) add to his swiftness, which is one of his main strengths in battle.

[shadow=red,left,300]Personality |[/shadow] Cedarpaw is very, very feisty. He's pretty snappish, too. He's always looked to his father as his hero, and seems to have absorbed this part of the tom's personality. Smokeclaw always told him stories about great warriors and the thrill of battle. Thus, Cedarpaw's caring and sensitive side seems to be considerably smaller than most cats'.

How he feels about his Clanmates ranges from those who need to suck it up and be strong, to sparring partners, to cats who act superior to him and therefore need to be taught a lesson, to idols, to cats you just don't question.

He usually doesn't listen to younger cats, and will challenge those older than he if they upset him. Which, quite frankly, isn't very difficult. If a cat picks at one of Cedarpaw's insecurities (his size, age, rank) or challenges his fighting ability, it's on. Now, if the cat is of a significantly higher rank, such as deputy or leader, he'll do what they say (though he'll probably complain while doing it- he doesn't like being told what to do). The same goes for his parents and mentor, as well as the medicine cat and his/her apprentice.

His small size has caused him to be self-conscious (he swears other cats make fun of him for it), and he has developed a Napoleon Complex. This means that, because he's a little guy, he feels the constant need to prove himself. He is totally chauvinistic.

He highly dislikes the other Clans, as well as cats not in a Clan. Unless a cat in one of these categories (haha) somehow wins his respect, Cedarpaw will pay them as little attention as possible. He absolutely loves training sessions, often annoying his mentor about having one until he/she gives in. He's always eager to learn new moves and get better at the ones he already knows. He's also a pretty sore loser, though he tries to come up with excuses if he's not the victor. Like this one, for example:

I didn't eat enough this morning, see? I couldn't concentrate enough. I would've clawed your fur off if I'd been giving it all I've got. You were lucky.

He thinks of Gatherings as an opportunity to learn wisdom from the leaders and medicine cats, and use what's going on in other Clans to his advantage. After all, he might pick up a new battle technique or spot a weakness somewhere. He always hopes to be invited to a Gathering, whether it would be logical or not for that particular meeting. He doesn't like the full-moon truce (he can't fight- that's no fun), but he does his best to uphold it, even though other cats might be able to pick up on the strain it's taking for him to hold back.

Patrols, be they hunting or border, are also something he wants to be a part of. Anything that can show off his strength and reflexes or impress his mentor or leader is fine by him.

Cedarpaw is highly ambitious, and therefore has making it to the position of leader as his ultimate dream. He wants to prove himself the greatest warrior ever.

Cedarpaw is the definition of the word "headstrong." He's stubborn, and will not compromise on any of his beliefs. Trying to make him see things your way is near-impossible, if not completely so.

Now we know quite a bit about this feisty little furball. He is convinced that his itty-bitty body will not hinder his greatness, and is ready to unsheathe his claws at the slightest provocation.

I'll show you I'm the best. Just you wait. I'll show 'em all.

[shadow=red,left,300]Skills |[/shadow] Cedarpaw excels at fighting, and is very proud of this. He'll take any chance he can to show off.

His hunting is slightly less in quality, as he is very impulsive and self-confident. Cedarpaw might scare off the prey because he's yowling about how great he is. Or maybe his overconfidence makes him a little too loud and a bit too clumsy.

He's not very good at anything that requires patience or being humble. Like the life of a medicine cat, for example. And if he ever gets an apprentice of his own, that cat is going to have his/her paws full.

Cedarpaw could be a good mentor, but he'd have to work on his pride and sharp tongue, not to mention his impatience. He could rise through the ranks and become deputy or even (StarClan willing, he'd say) leader, but he'd have to improve on the same things if he wanted to be a mentor. He could make some she-cat very happy, but in addition the flaws he'd need to fix for his previous ambitions, he'd have to let go of his sexist attitude and let his caring and sensitive side grow a little more.

[shadow=red,left,300]History |[/shadow]

The Journey

Cedarpaw did, in fact, make the Journey. His mother, Darkwhisker, was one of the cats who broke away from the old ForestClan when Cedarstar proposed starting a new Clan. This way, Clan life could have a chance at being as it should, without the threat of Brownstar's ways looming over them.

Along the way, another loner joined their ranks. His name had been Smoky, and he was intrigued by the concept of Clan life. Smoky and Darkwhisker became very close as they endured the hardships of the Journey.

One day, Darkwhisker wouldn't budge from her nest; she was kitting. The medicine cat helped her through it, using just enough herbs so as not to deplete the already meager supply. Darkwhisker made it through, and she had two kits. One was a black-and-grey she-cat, and the other was a brown tabby tom. The latter was Cedarkit. While neither of Cedarpaw's parents was a brown tabby, his grandfather was. This gene for his fur coloration and pattern was still carried by Cedarpaw's mother, and she passed it onto her son.

Now, while Darkwhisker did name her son for his coat, she also named him after the cat who had the courage and persistence to start and carry out the Journey: Cedarstar.

As he grew, Cedarkit's rambunctious nature began to show. His mother was worried that he would wander off somewhere or catch a severe sickness, like whitecough. Luckily, the worst her son was stricken with was a mild case of greencough, and he was able to be cured. Somehow, getting sick seemed to make Cedarkit realize that the forest was far more dangerous than it looked. He felt it was his unasked duty to serve as a lookout for the Clan, especially when his mother told him that "those icky smells" were the scents of foxes and badgers, predators no cat would wish to cross.

As the Clan was settling down to sleep for the night, Cedarkit heard a rustle in the undergrowth nearby. Every other cat was asleep, worn out by the day's traveling. Not Cedarkit- he was still alert with energy after the scare his greencough had given him. Cedarkit stared at out, looking for where the rustling was coming from. Two large bushes parted, and out stepped a large russet-colored creature.

Cedarkit wrinkled his nose. Ew, it smells icky, he thought as he caught the creature's scent. Wait, he recognized that smell- fox! Cedarkit yowled as loud as he could, waking up all but the most exhausted elders. At first, the other cats were upset for being woken up. But when they saw what Cedarkit was yowling about, every able cat got into a fighting stance.

As Cedarstar led his warriors into battle, Cedarkit and his mother and sister stayed in their nest, huddled together for warmth and security. The battle was bloody, but the intruding fox also received several nasty gashes before it fled back from whence it came.

For once, Cedarkit's boundless energy had served an important purpose in the Clan.

Kithood (in FogClan)

Darkwhisker sat curled up in the nursery, her tail curled protectively around her kits. A small, black-and-gray shape huddled close to her mother's soft belly fur. This was Warblerkit. Another small shape was nearby, the little brown tabby mass struggling in protest beside his sister. This was Cedarkit.

"Let me GO!"[/size] he yowled at his mother, trying almost desperately to escape his confines.

Darkwhisker merely held her tail in place. "You're not going anywhere. You're a kit, and you're going to stay in the nursery with your sister."[/size]

Cedarkit slumped down, his little mouth in a frustrated pout. Warblerkit, meanwhile, was purring calmly, nuzzling her mother's warm fur. Darkwhisker's eyes shone with warmth. Cedarkit, however, looked away from his mother and sister as if they were stale pieces of fresh-kill, and he wanted nothing to do with them.

She-cats,[/size] he thought dismissively.

This was pretty much how his kithood went. Day in and day out, Cedarkit was stuck in the nursery. Only at Clan gatherings was he allowed to venture outside the enclosure. His mother was afraid he'd get too out of paw if he left the nursery. Usually, she was right.

"Cedarkit! Stop chasing that butterfly and listen to what Owlstar has to say!"[/size]

"But it's bor-"[/size]

"Cedarkit! You will listen! This is important for the whole Clan!"[/size]

"Yes, Momma,"[/size] he mewed, looking down at his paws.

And so it went. He was well-behaved on rare occasions, but only then.

Apprenticehood

The Journey truly changed Cedarkit, making him a bit less hyper and a bit more serious. From his place in his mother's nest, Cedarkit observed everything he could about how the Clan worked, doing the same when every cat had to start trekking through the forest again.

When ForestClan found its new home and split into four seperate Clans, Cedarkit had no choice but to go with his kin into FogClan. Though he had managed to make a few friends along the way, he now had to leave them behind. Whenever he sees these cats at a Gathering (if he's lucky enough to go), Cedarkit treats them to a bit more of his more tolerable side.

The two siblings practically jumped out of their fur with excitement when they were apprenticed, both of them eight moons old.

That time had passed. Cedarpaw, as he was now called, was still as feisty as ever. He still had what twolegs call a "Napoleon Complex."

Warblerpaw, as his sister was now known, was still very close to her mother. Since her kithood, she had become a loyal apprentice and caring Clanmate.

The two were just starting their thirteenth moon of life.

As Cedarpaw saw it, they were long overdue for their warrior ceremonies.

Warblerpaw, however, was more humble than her brother, and was content to stay an apprentice until her mentor had decided she was ready to accept the path of a warrior.

[shadow=red,left,300]Roleplay Sample |[/shadow]

Picking her way through the numerous cardboard boxes, Serephina finally managed to reach her desk. Not, however, without snagging a bit of the lace trim on her dress on a bent nail sticking out of the wood. Noticing this, she glared at the offending piece of metal and hissed, fangs bared. It wouldn't change anything, true, but Ser did not like having her clothing damaged.

After freeing the cloth from its ensnarement, she slid into her computer chair and took a few deep breaths, rubbing her temples in an effort to calm down. She was supposed to finish up some work on the computer this evening, however much she disliked technology. Pushing the machine's 'power' button, she jumped a little in her seat as the monitor lit up and the tower squawked to life.

"I'll never get used to this century," she muttered. "Everything was so much simpler in the 17 and 1800's."

This woman was, in fact, born in 1757, before the Declaration of Independence was even made. For those who pointed this out... it didn't end well. She was human for the first sixteen years of her life, and would forever look this age. As of today, however, she was 251 years old.

In the vampire community, that was old enough to be at least generally respected. It was, however, still pretty young when compared with those who were, say, 500. Then there were the Ancients. They were thousands of years old, and some were even among the First Brood.

Looking back at her paper and re-reading the order, she laughed.

"You've got to be kidding me. They want me to do research on this blasted thing to find out who the first of my kind was? Please, I know that right now! Any Kindred who bothered to learn something about what they are would know it's Akasha, who then Turned her husband, Enkil. And that arrogant spirit, Amel, was responsible for the whole thing." She snorted.

"Can't say I'm upset with how things turned out, though. At least, not entirely. After all, if it weren't for Amel, I wouldn't be here today. Feh."

She smirked, filling out the requested information and hitting the 'print' button almost tentatively. The series of beeps and grinding noises the printer made when fulfilling its job always made her flinch. The paper in hand, Ser brushed off her corseted black-and-dark-purple dress. She blew a strand of ebony hair out of her face and cast her eyes upon her boss’s desk.

Ser was one of those people who'd kept their violet eyes from their infancy- no colored contact lenses for this woman, no sir. Besides, why would she want sight-correcting devices when she already had superhuman vision? Exactly. Rhetorical question.

Winding through the sea of unpacked containers once more, she deposited her work on the mahogany surface with a resounding "smack." She liked to put a little "oomph" in her deliveries.

"Bada-bing, bada-boom," she said a bit arrogantly, the words rolling off her tongue. Even though she had been born in New Orleans rather than New York, it still worked.

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