Darkfur [of] PineClan

[prowler.]

DARKFUR.
^{theme song - trashed & scattered;a7x}

at birth they said i was dark for the obsidian that was my fur, now, they made that only more obvious with a matching suffix. thus, i am darkfur

i am evidently male, masculine, a tom, brute, brujo, beast.

i have been forced to stay on this despicable planet for 25 moons so far

i am nought more than a warrior for now.

something drew me immediately toward the pines

it has been some time since anyone mentioned my belief it was so obvious, but all the same...

Darkfur's belief in StarClan has always been nonexistant and to be fair, with good reason - where was StarClan when he needed them? Why should he pray to cats that even if they existed, were merciless fiends that played false gods in themselves, they were just dead cats at any rate, weren't they? They were no better, so why should the mortal bow down to those that had died - those that had died were the failures of mortality, so if they failed at life they got to be gods next? PAH! He disregards just about all possibility of their existence and at any rate would never stoop to worshipping failures. He believes in free will and ideals, strength and winning, there is nothing godly or otherworldly about life and death, it is just a line that separates the winners and the losers.

i was born to blackheart (father, np) and whitefoot (mother, np)

just a little of one an only child.

i know nothing of this love you mention, not in any measurement - not for any nonexistant kin, nor femme or fool alike.

i was mentored by blackheart, who tragically left us, then a fellow named pale-ear tried to rise to the challenge, who dropped out halfway through, perhaps cracking under the pressure? but finally it was cloudstorm that rose past the complications and finished my training - not that he had much to teach, of course.

physically they've found i look...

Darkfur's structure is one that has much force behind it. With long, spindly limbs he is a tall tom, a head or two taller than most typical warriors. This tall physique is practically bulging with muscle, broadening his previously lithe structure to one of bulk, though his legs remain still somewhat slender in their lower sections, providing a swift method to move around, their muscle lean from obvious large amounts of running. Other than his sheer size, the next thing you'd probably notice about Darkfur would be his namesake - his fur.

With the colour of pitch, his fur is black as black could be, unmarred by any lighter colour. He sometimes questions however if his pelt is that glorious as to retain the honour of his entire namesake. Still, to the eye that isn't overly used to seeing Darkfur, his pelt is quite fabulous. Groomed to perfection, his fur is no thicker than an inch and has an astounding, unusual sheen to it. The said sheen when viewed in bright sunlight is like that one might expect to see on feathers, a wet shine that casts other, unusual colours onto its surface, ranging from dark blue hues to bright purples and slick greens.

Moving away from his fur, Darkfur's face is sharply featured, with high cheekbones which give a particular serious cast to his face. His features are somewhat aristocratic and elegant, with a sort of dark intelligence to them that seems all too, well, almost moody. In the centre of Darkfur's face are two brilliant eyes - their colour is unusual and rare. A deep shade of teal, the eyes are set in amongst his thickly-lined sockets, their colour is a stunning, solid mixture of the deepest green and more sombre blue. They almost appear a cyan tone, but darker, more gritted.

With a long, thin whip-like tail Darkfur is very well-held, handsome in his sleek way, yet oddly unapproachable in how he appears. Vicious pelt is marred on just about every space with rough scars, hidden by fur but still risen from his other clear flesh. Simple memories of all bad that has ever happened to him. With excellent posture and prime, Darkfur could be described as a cat that considers physical appearance key, ever fur uniform before he shows himself.

With razor-sharp teeth and claws, Darkfur is definitely a imposing-looking foe. His voice is rare-spoken but rough and gritty, cold as ice and the same in texture. His face is usually expressionless, almost weary and practically always uncaring. His eyes say something different though - with their bright lowlights, any emotion Darkfur feels can be read through his eyes, as such he often doesn't look at cats during arguments. If eyes were in fact windows to the soul, Darkfur's soul could be said to be almost innocent?! Not that anyone could ever really imagine that word fitting this said cat.

though my personality i wear more on my wrist...

Darkfur is one of those cats, those cats that act all tough. He'll appear as rough and sharp-tongued as possible, a cat not to mess with, to gain him some respect and admiration, even at his fairly un-knowledgeable age, but everyone knows, the cat shown is never the true cat. And as this follows, Darkfur is, too, very different.

When he was born Darkfur always felt lost, even as a kit, he would mess up all the time until his father beat him and told him that he was ashamed that he was his son. Since then, Darkfur always hardened, showing a meaner, sharper, harsher side. Now Darkfur goes around with fierce commands and a cold, spiteful view on life. Because of his kithood and because of the way he has grown up, Darkfur is not a very nice character at all.

Being disdainful of those that are apprentices and kits Darkfur has always been somewhat of a loner. Overly self-confident sometimes he can't help feeling like he is so much better than they. Very uneasily Darkfur will openly admit to admiring the late Tigerstar of the Legends. If he told any cat that asked him, he would doubtless stir worry. But with his strength, it is dare said that no cat would care too much.

But deep down Darkfur is quite lost and alone, really he doesn't feel like he has ever really belonged. With a sensitive side maybe he would make a good mate in the future, protective, brave, courageous. But unbeknownst to his clan Darkfur has always plotted, even since he was a young kit, abused. If he must stay in this clan, why must he always be one of its lower operatives? Why could he not be up with the head honcho's of the clan like Gingerstar?

Darkfur has very different ideas about right and wrong. Merciless now he will not show mercy to any of his enemies, even if it is the weakest kit. He will stick to his ideals and his orders till his last breath, but sometimes will twist them to his advantage or so that they mean something else. He sees weakness as dispicable even amongst the young and even worse amongst the aged. Death is failure and he is determined that he will never fail or just sit down and let it crawl upon him.

Uncaring and unapproachable Darkfur has a sharp tongue which snaps at just about anyone. He abhors the idea of StarClan and thinks that cats that worship those that have failed and died are despicable and weak. Hot tempered and fearless Darkfur is the sort of cat that will never back down from a challenge and can and will always easily be goaded into a fight. Extremely defensive he takes personal insults badly and rips back ten times as bad into the offending cat.

of course, i'm great at everything, but just some of my skills?..

darkfur is an excellent fighter, his tactics are completely off the book and even if he were ever to have an apprentice, he would never share his methods. he is strategic and logical, his intelligence is irrepressable. all the same, he lacks in diplomacy and his egotistical nature means that he would be liable for getting into many fights if put in a position of power. swift on foot he can also act as a great messenger, but he will never run from a fight, nor back down.

they say the history of a cat changes his life...

During a wild, hellish night of a storm, a kit was born, between two black-pelted cats the kit quivered, the parents looking on in appreciation. It had a obsiden pelt and two scrunched up eyes, the two blacks' eyes gleamed at the gorgeous pelt of onyx, their maws opening slightly as they groomed each other and the kit. Whitefoot had decided fiercely that she needed no Medicine Cat for her birthing, her mate, Blackheart, had agreed. The two had run when she began feeling twinges in her belly, out to somewhere solitary where she could birth. They had settled, almost as if it was a conspiracy, in a dark clearing as rain poured around their meagre shelter, lightning flashing and the wind wailing.

And now, their little kit, Darkkit, was born, alone, but he was born, nothing wrong with him at all, a perfectly healthy, unmarred kitten. The two parents were both young and healthy themselves, and prided on that they had just given the Clan its strongest kit for a long time. But after a while Darkkit began to be able to form words and walk, he stumbled and slipped, making mistakes as he tried to master walking. His words sounded weird as he formed them and he made a fool of himself constantly.

Being a bit slow at the uptake after a nasty jibe from one of the other warriors, Blackheart turned to his son about his constant mistakes. 'Are you dumb?! Are you stupid?! Why are you so StarClan forsakenly slow?! You make a mockery of me and your mother in front of our friends! And yet you have no shame - no shame!' The tom quite clearly terrified the kit that night, as it rained outside he yelled and screamed at the kit, before brutally beating it - it was a wonder that no cat heard the beating or the yelling, because despite the rain, there was an ominous knowing edge to the clan.

When Darkkit was found so brutally beaten the next day the clan were in shock, no cat dared look over at the still visibly smoldering Blackheart, that had had his personality change almost completely within mere days. From being a young, charming and eager warrior he had become hateful, rude and nasty in general. His father claimed that it must've been a fox, for he smelled scents a while away from camp; Elkstar then sent out warriors to make sure it was gone. Everyone was surprised (some nicely, others notso) when the kit survived through its life-changing wounds.

In fact, after a few moons, he made a full recovery. After this Blackheart changed his approach, knowing his son knew it was him but had kept silent and serious from then on, he thought that maybe there was still hope. He began taking Darkkit out on secret training sessions, teaching him about killing, the past heros (Tigerstar, etc.) and how to do the clan proud. But the training sessions were brutal, even when Darkkit did not want to train, he was forced. As Darkkit allowed this training to flood and corrupt his mind, he also allowed it to seize control of his thoughts. One burning desire was now in his mind from his father's words - he wanted revenge, he deserved it. His father had to pay for the beating he had given, and he would pay in blood.

Darkkit soon had his apprenticeship ceremony, being honored with his father as a mentor - his perfect chance! The young apprentice seized it and within a moon of training took the time to strike. He attacked his mentor after they'd had a spar in the training hollow, his attack was ferocious, merciless. All that was left of Blackheart since that day? Well, they say a smear of blood still traces a line on the sandy floor of the earth. A not-so-gentle reminder.

The one thing that Darkpaw never spoke of was his hallucinations. Wraith-like beings would float into his sight, often silent screams forming on their mouths, sometimes murmuring words that just couldn't be heard. Of course, nocat could belive this, it is perhaps a tinkering of a growing insanity. Or just perhaps, it is reality, another realm. Either way, he sees things that are not really there to other cats, but so real our their essence that Darkpaw would be entranced by their movements, often gazing off, wistfully, after them. Alas, what would the clan think, should they know of these beings? Beings, perhaps, from the Place of No Stars.

Darkpaw was quite satisfied for the next moon in which he remained mentorless, until Elkstar deemed once more that he must have a mentor. He summoned Pale-ear, a young, inexperienced warrior who had never had an apprentice before. Even the older warriors thought this was a bit cruel - Darkpaw was known for being rude, intolerant and unmanageable at best, Pale-ear was surely just being sent to the slaughter. Elkstar consequently recieved three visits from Pale-ear within the following two moons. The first was on Darkpaw's manners - he was rude and openly spoke blasphemously of StarClan. He was sent away by Elkstar - minor matters that would be settled with age. The second time he said that he could train Darkpaw no more, the apprentice knew as much as him and was fitter and better at battle than himself. Elkstar dismissed this as just lack of will to train the difficult apprentice and sent Pale-ear away once again.

The third time Pale-ear was desperate, he refused to train Darkpaw further and said that the apprentice was "out of his hands and no longer his responsibility". Elkstar was finally left with no choice, the apprentice would need another mentor. Now 9 moons old he was too young to become a warrior and still needed his training finished. He assigned Cloudstorm, a similarly unapproachable, hostile warrior with tight regard for the unruly, a cruel taskmaster at best. It turned out this was the perfect match. Cloudstorm was the tier above Pale-ear and was perfect for Darkpaw's training, continuing it until the apprentice excelled and even then encouraging him to continue.

Darkpaw became stronger than most cats could concieve and appreciated the appearance of his new mentor, who could handle his tongue and skill. When he was 12 moons old, Elkstar watched a phenomenal battle between mentor and apprentice, upon Darkpaw winning, announced they would hold a ceremony at sundown. It was at this ceremony that Darkpaw became Darkfur, feared warrior of ForestClan.

Seven slow moons passed from that day, each day Darkfur primed himself in keeping his highest level of physical fitness, training consistantly for battle and challenging any cat to defy or fight against him. Cats were wary of him all the same, this was the same cat that had shown no grief at his father's burial, that had one way or the other worked through not one but three mentors and now continued to train, train for what? When the clan split came, Darkfur's choice was obvious, he would go with cats that were not so blindly stupid in their thoughts of StarClan. He went with PineClan and has remained there for the six moons since, thoughts dangerous and brooding, tongue sharp and cold, meticulous in his manner and assertive in his ambition.

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