Post by cryptid on Aug 6, 2020 23:59:19 GMT -6
[attr="class","appCONTAINER]
[attr="class","appHEADER"]FOXSTEP
[attr="class","appTAG"]foxstep – fluffy dark red she-cat with green eyes.
[attr="class","appIMAGE"]
[attr="class","appPADDING1"]
[attr="class","appTOPBOX"]
[attr="class","appTOPBOXBG"]
| 32 MOONS | CIS FEMALE | HOMOSEXUAL | SHADOWCLAN | WARRIOR |
[attr="class","appBGIMAGE"]
[attr="class","appCATEGORY"]TRAITS
[attr="class","appTRAITSBG"]
| + ambitious + strategic + cunning + brave + playful | - overthinker - overconfident - quick to fight - narrow minded - smug |
[attr="class","appCATEGORY"]PERSONALITY
[attr="class","appBAR"]
[attr="class","appFIELD"]
foxstep is the sort of cat who takes the borders incredibly seriously. she prides herself in her ability to protect her clan, singularly dedicated to preventing any actual, serious threat from reaching their camp and the vulnerable cats inside. to this end she finds herself naturally and deeply mistrustful of other clans, finding their motivations to almost always be suspect, their intentions ill and preferring to run them off as quickly as possible. with that said, foxstep is also a cunning cat and she’s inclined towards any strategic advantage she could find to shadowclan’s benefit. so the questioning or capture of a strange cat on the territory is as much of an option as leaving them some nasty bites to remember her by as they limp back across the border.
her ambition is a somewhat odd thing, focused not so much on her personal advancement as it is on the clan’s position in the forest. this is the sort of cat who would call for them to seize any advantage for her clan, weakness in the other clans to her is an opportunity and she would advocate for pressing the advantage. stealing territory in her opinion is only theft when it’s against shadowclan, when it’s performed by them it’s simply strengthening the clan. gatherings, while peaceful, are a time for gathering intel and looking to charm any piece of useful information she can out of cats from the other clans.
she’s a passionate believer in starclan, though she also considers some of the warrior code to be more of a guide. the parts which emphasise the protection and providing for of your own clan being the only true rules of the thing. anything regarding the spirit of the code in helping other clans or not pushing your borders deeper into hostile territory is not, in foxstep’s opinion, a true interpretation. starclan, after all, decrees that there must always be four clans in the forest – if they intended for the clans to be co-operative with one another the founding leaders would have formed a single clan instead.
with her clanmate’s she’s far less intense, tending more towards a relaxed attitude full of quiet, playful humour. she’s the sort of cat who seems perfectly suited to clan life, she’s co-operative by nature, deeply believing in the importance of clan balance as well as providing for all cats in the clan both young and old. she genuinely enjoys the company of most clanmates (though there are almost definitely some she wouldn’t be quick to call friend) and is almost always up for picking up an extra hunting or border patrol, preferring to work with the company of others than alone.
her ambition is a somewhat odd thing, focused not so much on her personal advancement as it is on the clan’s position in the forest. this is the sort of cat who would call for them to seize any advantage for her clan, weakness in the other clans to her is an opportunity and she would advocate for pressing the advantage. stealing territory in her opinion is only theft when it’s against shadowclan, when it’s performed by them it’s simply strengthening the clan. gatherings, while peaceful, are a time for gathering intel and looking to charm any piece of useful information she can out of cats from the other clans.
she’s a passionate believer in starclan, though she also considers some of the warrior code to be more of a guide. the parts which emphasise the protection and providing for of your own clan being the only true rules of the thing. anything regarding the spirit of the code in helping other clans or not pushing your borders deeper into hostile territory is not, in foxstep’s opinion, a true interpretation. starclan, after all, decrees that there must always be four clans in the forest – if they intended for the clans to be co-operative with one another the founding leaders would have formed a single clan instead.
with her clanmate’s she’s far less intense, tending more towards a relaxed attitude full of quiet, playful humour. she’s the sort of cat who seems perfectly suited to clan life, she’s co-operative by nature, deeply believing in the importance of clan balance as well as providing for all cats in the clan both young and old. she genuinely enjoys the company of most clanmates (though there are almost definitely some she wouldn’t be quick to call friend) and is almost always up for picking up an extra hunting or border patrol, preferring to work with the company of others than alone.
[attr="class","appCATEGORY"]HISTORY
[attr="class","appBAR"]
[attr="class","appFIELD"]
foxstep is the first to acknowledge her origins as humble. nothing remarkable, no brilliant pedigree or high drama to set her early days apart from the vast majority of her clanmates. there was no great love story to explain her birth, no, but that was nothing exceptional in itself. when pressed for the identity of her litter’s father, a heavily pregnant ravenwhisker would laugh and shrug, “nobody of note.” was the answer given, a brush off and one which likely left many curious but none pried too far. after all, it is a queen’s right to keep the identity of the father to herself.
foxkit was one of a pair; both kits born healthy and robust, mewling and squirming as they were pressed into the warmth and protection of their mother’s belly. both kits were born with thick, strangely ticked coats, neither resembling their mother much at all. foxkit, the elder by a good hour or so, was named for her deep red colour while her brother’s dustier brown coat saw him named oakkit for their maternal grandfather. their coats remained somewhat of an enigma as they grew, growing longer and thicker with each passing moon their colours and markings still a mystery of origin.
if questions were asked of ravenwhisker she kept them firmly to herself, allowing her kits a kithood unburdened by issues of paternity. they were typical, really; energetic, bright and curious. their mischief was managed by their watchful mother, but they still got into all manner of the usual trouble that one could expect from kits. these were not the sort of kits which gave the clan concern for their futures; they were not shy or timid, nor were they defiant or untamable, ravenwhisker boasted of their good tempers. of the fine warriors they would make and brushed aside all questions of their paternity. who cared who their father was when they were growing up so fine!
they were named exactly on time, heads high and eyes shining as they were called before cloudstar. there was a weight settled over the clan, a grief, the loss of their medicine cat passed peacefully in her nest hung heavy over them. still, the naming of new apprentices was a thing for celebration and as foxpaw and oakpaw stepped forwards to touch noses with their mentors the call of their new names left the young cats feeling invincible.
training began and with it was the most freedom that foxpaw and oakpaw had ever known. sure, they were still expected in the early moons to only leave camp with a warrior, but they could leave. she took to her training with a combination of solemn seriousness, listening wide eyed as her mentor explained the code to her. her mother in the nursery and the elder’s she’d sat for hours listening to in her kithood had imparted on her the words of the code; but it wasn’t until she was out of camp, trailing her mentor along the borders, that its importance truly sank home.
training was exhilarating; the first couple of moons spent perfecting the basics, developing that solid foundation which would inform the skills she’d learn later down the line. hunting was first and foremost; taught to her as both the element of being a warrior which she would use most often and the most integral to the clan. after all, if warriors failed to hunt then the milk of queens would dry up, kits would starve, sick cats would die and the elders would starve. hunting for one another, the co-operative style of living which made the core of their lives, was the difference between them and rogues. it was, so far as foxpaw could tell, the crux of why clan cats alit to the stars when their time in the forest was done while rogues simply faded into nothingness.
yet her heart did not belong to hunting; she was diligent in her learning, of course, she understood full well how crucial it was, but the sessions which got her blood pumping in her veins were battle lessons. the skills she’d use to protect her clan – because there it was, the core of her nature; she was a protector more than she was a provider and the idea of chasing rogues or enemy warriors off their territory got set her heart racing.
her brother shared her excitement and the night before their mid-training battle assessments foxpaw rose from her nest late in the night. careful not to alert the other apprentices she jabbed her brother asleep in the nest beside her’s into wakefulness. he emerged, following her from the den in sleepy confusion, blinking sleep from his eyes. they crept carefully, slinking out of camp with their pawsteps light, keeping to the long shadows to avoid the keen gaze of the night’s watch. when they made it out without alarm she turned to him, bright eyed and triumphant and announced her determination to get a bit of extra practice. “we’re gonna blow them away.”
so the littermates tangled, running through their battle moves with their claws carefully sheathed, working for a time before they flopped tired to the forest floor. they sat there, chatting for a short while, about their training and their goals; oakpaw becoming disturbed as his sister began to impress upon him all of her anxieties about not being enough. yet the following argument was interrupted by a rush of wind and the feel of talons scraping between her shoulders. foxpaw screamed, her paws lifting partially off the ground and terror seizing her, leaving her dumbstruck as her brother screeched behind her. for a horrific heartbeat she dangled there, paws scrabbling against the air and pain shooting from her back as her coat was yanked – and then something lurched behind her and she dropped, crashing into the earth. she scrambled to her paws, whirling around with terror pulsing through her as her brother slammed into a huge, aggressive owl.
the fight didn’t couldn’t have lasted more than a few more heartbeats before the owl took off in search of easier prey and oakpaw stumbled, turning to her with one eye sealed shut and blood caking his face. he swayed on his paws, leaning heavily on her as she lunged forwards to try and get him home.
they were treated for their injuries, though foxpaw by some miracle had sustained little more than a few scrapes and some missing fur. she was dismissed to the apprentice’s den, her brother kept behind with chanterellegaze and ravenwhisker hovering over him. she didn’t sleep that night and the following day the assessment was postponed, foxpaw spending her day loitering outside of the medicine cat’s den instead. finally, she was invited inside, relieving her exhausted mother who finally submitted to the medicine cat’s advice she go and get a little rest.
when she hesitantly entered the den oakpaw turned to her she shrank, not from his wounds but from the gnawing guilt as she came face to face with the mass of cobwebs and herbal poultice where his eye should be. silently she tucked herself into the nest beside him, lapping gently at his fur as he slowly faded into sleep. before he lost consciousness she heard the murmur, pressed into her scruff, “s’not your fault.”
though she never truly forgave herself for her brother’s injury, time truly is the greatest healer. he lost the eye and moons of training, stuck in camp to heal. their mother fussed him and foxpaw took it upon herself to personally catch him his daily meal. it was a strange thing training without him and for the first moon of his healing, while he was still confined to the chanterellegaze’s den, she struggled to sleep with the cold of his empty nest beside her. yet the experience pushed her to become closer with the other apprentices and she made new friends, expanding her social horizons.
oakpaw rejoined training after a pawful of moons, though by the time he was properly cleared foxpaw was approaching the end of her time in the apprentice’s den. still, she thrived with her brother back so prominently in her life and she likes to think it was his voice which called the loudest when eventually she was named. she knows for certain that when his time came her’s definitely was.
[ foxkit • foxpaw • foxstep ]
foxstep is the first to acknowledge her origins as humble. nothing remarkable, no brilliant pedigree or high drama to set her early days apart from the vast majority of her clanmates. there was no great love story to explain her birth, no, but that was nothing exceptional in itself. when pressed for the identity of her litter’s father, a heavily pregnant ravenwhisker would laugh and shrug, “nobody of note.” was the answer given, a brush off and one which likely left many curious but none pried too far. after all, it is a queen’s right to keep the identity of the father to herself.
foxkit was one of a pair; both kits born healthy and robust, mewling and squirming as they were pressed into the warmth and protection of their mother’s belly. both kits were born with thick, strangely ticked coats, neither resembling their mother much at all. foxkit, the elder by a good hour or so, was named for her deep red colour while her brother’s dustier brown coat saw him named oakkit for their maternal grandfather. their coats remained somewhat of an enigma as they grew, growing longer and thicker with each passing moon their colours and markings still a mystery of origin.
if questions were asked of ravenwhisker she kept them firmly to herself, allowing her kits a kithood unburdened by issues of paternity. they were typical, really; energetic, bright and curious. their mischief was managed by their watchful mother, but they still got into all manner of the usual trouble that one could expect from kits. these were not the sort of kits which gave the clan concern for their futures; they were not shy or timid, nor were they defiant or untamable, ravenwhisker boasted of their good tempers. of the fine warriors they would make and brushed aside all questions of their paternity. who cared who their father was when they were growing up so fine!
they were named exactly on time, heads high and eyes shining as they were called before cloudstar. there was a weight settled over the clan, a grief, the loss of their medicine cat passed peacefully in her nest hung heavy over them. still, the naming of new apprentices was a thing for celebration and as foxpaw and oakpaw stepped forwards to touch noses with their mentors the call of their new names left the young cats feeling invincible.
training began and with it was the most freedom that foxpaw and oakpaw had ever known. sure, they were still expected in the early moons to only leave camp with a warrior, but they could leave. she took to her training with a combination of solemn seriousness, listening wide eyed as her mentor explained the code to her. her mother in the nursery and the elder’s she’d sat for hours listening to in her kithood had imparted on her the words of the code; but it wasn’t until she was out of camp, trailing her mentor along the borders, that its importance truly sank home.
training was exhilarating; the first couple of moons spent perfecting the basics, developing that solid foundation which would inform the skills she’d learn later down the line. hunting was first and foremost; taught to her as both the element of being a warrior which she would use most often and the most integral to the clan. after all, if warriors failed to hunt then the milk of queens would dry up, kits would starve, sick cats would die and the elders would starve. hunting for one another, the co-operative style of living which made the core of their lives, was the difference between them and rogues. it was, so far as foxpaw could tell, the crux of why clan cats alit to the stars when their time in the forest was done while rogues simply faded into nothingness.
yet her heart did not belong to hunting; she was diligent in her learning, of course, she understood full well how crucial it was, but the sessions which got her blood pumping in her veins were battle lessons. the skills she’d use to protect her clan – because there it was, the core of her nature; she was a protector more than she was a provider and the idea of chasing rogues or enemy warriors off their territory got set her heart racing.
her brother shared her excitement and the night before their mid-training battle assessments foxpaw rose from her nest late in the night. careful not to alert the other apprentices she jabbed her brother asleep in the nest beside her’s into wakefulness. he emerged, following her from the den in sleepy confusion, blinking sleep from his eyes. they crept carefully, slinking out of camp with their pawsteps light, keeping to the long shadows to avoid the keen gaze of the night’s watch. when they made it out without alarm she turned to him, bright eyed and triumphant and announced her determination to get a bit of extra practice. “we’re gonna blow them away.”
so the littermates tangled, running through their battle moves with their claws carefully sheathed, working for a time before they flopped tired to the forest floor. they sat there, chatting for a short while, about their training and their goals; oakpaw becoming disturbed as his sister began to impress upon him all of her anxieties about not being enough. yet the following argument was interrupted by a rush of wind and the feel of talons scraping between her shoulders. foxpaw screamed, her paws lifting partially off the ground and terror seizing her, leaving her dumbstruck as her brother screeched behind her. for a horrific heartbeat she dangled there, paws scrabbling against the air and pain shooting from her back as her coat was yanked – and then something lurched behind her and she dropped, crashing into the earth. she scrambled to her paws, whirling around with terror pulsing through her as her brother slammed into a huge, aggressive owl.
the fight didn’t couldn’t have lasted more than a few more heartbeats before the owl took off in search of easier prey and oakpaw stumbled, turning to her with one eye sealed shut and blood caking his face. he swayed on his paws, leaning heavily on her as she lunged forwards to try and get him home.
they were treated for their injuries, though foxpaw by some miracle had sustained little more than a few scrapes and some missing fur. she was dismissed to the apprentice’s den, her brother kept behind with chanterellegaze and ravenwhisker hovering over him. she didn’t sleep that night and the following day the assessment was postponed, foxpaw spending her day loitering outside of the medicine cat’s den instead. finally, she was invited inside, relieving her exhausted mother who finally submitted to the medicine cat’s advice she go and get a little rest.
when she hesitantly entered the den oakpaw turned to her she shrank, not from his wounds but from the gnawing guilt as she came face to face with the mass of cobwebs and herbal poultice where his eye should be. silently she tucked herself into the nest beside him, lapping gently at his fur as he slowly faded into sleep. before he lost consciousness she heard the murmur, pressed into her scruff, “s’not your fault.”
though she never truly forgave herself for her brother’s injury, time truly is the greatest healer. he lost the eye and moons of training, stuck in camp to heal. their mother fussed him and foxpaw took it upon herself to personally catch him his daily meal. it was a strange thing training without him and for the first moon of his healing, while he was still confined to the chanterellegaze’s den, she struggled to sleep with the cold of his empty nest beside her. yet the experience pushed her to become closer with the other apprentices and she made new friends, expanding her social horizons.
oakpaw rejoined training after a pawful of moons, though by the time he was properly cleared foxpaw was approaching the end of her time in the apprentice’s den. still, she thrived with her brother back so prominently in her life and she likes to think it was his voice which called the loudest when eventually she was named. she knows for certain that when his time came her’s definitely was.
[attr="class","appNAMEREASON"]
| FOX; for the deep red of her coat. | STEP; for her grace and stealth. |
[attr="class","appOOC"]
| cryptid | |
| 25 | he/him |
| gmt +10 | pm or discord |
[attr="class","appOOCfield"] when we grew up our shadows grew up too but they're just old ghosts that we grow attached to the tragic flaw is that they hide the truth. that you're enough, you're enough, you're enough, i promise you're enough, you're enough, you're enough. | |
