Charredpaw [Timberclan]

[Dusk]

charredpaw
tom, seven moons, apprentice, timberclan

appearance
;; a dark gray tom with black tabby stripes and brilliant golden-green eyes

;; The prefix of this tom's name is suitable, considering the coloration of his fur. His pelt is a mixture of varying shades of gray, mostly dark colors, with a few hints of silvery fur along his throat and underside. His stripes look almost burned onto his fur, as though flames ran quickly across his body to slightly singe the outermost hairs on his pelt. Along his back, the striping merges into a smooth coat of black. The tabby markings aren't always easy to see except where they stand out vibrantly against lighter fur, and some light makes him appear to sport a coat of solid -if somewhat faded- black. Charredpaw can use his pelt to his advantage, allowing the stripes to break up his form and allow him to better blend with the darkness.

His frame is slight for a tom, with short fur clinging close to his body doing nothing to make him appear larger. Certainly he lacks any threatening bulk, although one cannot say he isn't a handsome tom. There is still a feral leanness to his musculature, well-bred for traversing Timberclan territories. And his smaller build isn't an issue for him, in fact, it's a plus. All the better to become one with the night, a shadow himself.

personality

Rather a keep-to-yourself sort of cat, the apprentice prefers to stay out of the way and remain in the background. Indeed, he's the last cat one would expect to be brash and outgoing; Charredpaw is the opposite of that cocky, strutting loudmouth who gains so much disdain amongst his peers. Modesty and silence are preferred by him. He'd rather simply be let be, free to go about his way in the camp without drawing any attention. This tabby is a cat of few words, more of the speak after spoken to type, though he'll not back down from a conversation if one seeks him out. He's kind, though, just a bit soft-spoken and awkward around others. When he does speak, he's surprisingly eloquent.

Charredpaw has problems with self-confidence. In fact, he's rather shockingly lacking in that category. It is a largely unfounded emotion, as in his kit days the tom was never put down or mocked; his father was plenty supportive of the smoke tabby. Whatever the basis of his doubts, the apprentice lacks faith in his abilities and is rather hard to convince otherwise. Not once does he fail to question whether or not there would be another better suited to an assignment. He just needs a boost, though, and a nudge here and there should assist in bettering the trust he puts in his strengths. The trust he lacks in himself he puts in others. He'll rarely decide others can't be relied upon to complete a task. The only time he may think himself in a more favorable standing is when the task requires a bit of brainpower. In fact, his smarts are probably the one thing he feels respectable about him.

If there's one aspect of himself this young tom finds pride in, it's most certainly his perceptive abilities. Charredpaw is extremely observant, he quite literally watches everything. Cats, the sky, other animals, it really doesn't matter. If something can be gained from making an observation (by deduction, induction, it really doesn't matter) he will most certainly strive to perceive and take apart the information presented to him. Life is a game which can be best won by absorbing and understanding all the details. Of course, it's all well and good for a cat to be able to notice something, but one also requires the intellect to make use of the information. Intellect abounds with this tom, though currently hes too young and inexperienced to make proper use of it. He draws conclusion -often fairly correct- with ease, and it can't be doubted that he's a fine head for strategy. There's also a certain air of shrewdness about him. Likely his rather introverted nature is caused slightly by his intelligence, as he's more interested in turning thoughts inward in reflection rather than outward in socialization. Too busy dreaming, some might say. His intellect is further bolstered by creativity and imagination. There are no true limitations to what can be done with a little bit of vision. Some would call his methods unconventional, he calls them unique. Whatever the case, he enjoys solving problems and using his skills to see how well he can size up others.


history
'How do you know they won't catch us slipping out of camp?'
'I just do... it's simple, really, trust me.'

Charredpaw's life began like that of most any other kit, with the love of two cats which eventually led to the birth of three kits: Charredkit, Ospreykit, and Frostkit. Charredkit was the oddity, a dark furred bundle that stood out in stark contrast against the fairer coats of his siblings and father, Fogstreak. Their mother was unknown to any but the father, as he spoke of her neither to his kin nor the rest of Timberclan. Fogstreak was a private cat, though it's unsure how he managed to prevent the knowledge of whom he'd chosen as mate from becoming widespread. The fact of the matter was, the clan was simply happy to accept kits into the clan regardless of their bloodlines. Neither Charredkit nor his siblings much cared about their lack of a mother figure. Things moved smoothly with a whole clan to help care for them. Although, the dark-pelted middle cat of the litter would always stand out as a symbol of the unknown parent.

Needless to say, the looks that others in Timberclan would occasionally give him one day began to grow unnerving. When he was two or three moons old the ogling was easy to shrug off, but as he began to mature somewhat the idea that the looks weren't all admiration began to form in his mind. The kit began to search for ways to escape the looks, and the easiest avenue would be to simply exit the camp for some time. The question was how. Already the tabby was naturally observant, and it was a simple matter to idle the hours away watching the going-ons of the camp. He learned the shifts for the camp guards quickly, and soon enough Charredkit was confident enough that he could slip out between the change of warriors. Convincing his eldest brother Ospreykit was simple too. After all, when doesn't adventure appeal to two almost-apprentices? The camp followed a common pattern, the nursery would be largely asleep around noon, and most warriors would be out of camp; as the sun reached its highest point the cats at the main entrance to camp changed. That was when the slipped out to explore their clan's territory.

They were lucky, two kits wandering out on their own almost always come across tragedy, but by some stroke of luck they brothers escaped any dangers. In fact, they made multiple trips for the next moon, until an unexpected visit to the nursery by Fogstreak while they were out ended their escapades. Charredkit was the more dismayed of the loss of their outings, they'd become his shelter from the stares in camp. Thus, he turned inward, hoping to focus so much on his mind that he could put up a mental barrier between himself and the rest of the world. It worked to a point, but the stares were still there. Always, always, it felt like someone was watching him. He just wanted to escape the looks. Was something wrong with him, was that why others always glanced at him? This obsession with being watched stuck with him into apprenticeship, evolving into something largely imagined but all too real for Charredpaw. He just wanted to be out of another's watchful gaze whenever possible.

What will happen next remains to be seen, as he's only recently been made an apprentice.


sample
{anarchy post made less than a week ago}
Morning had long since come and gone, the sun's arcing path through the blue sky already completed and closing in on its end. Evening was closing in, with the sun dipping silently closer towards the treetops. There was still plenty of light out, though; especially for the tabby tom padding happily across the steep-sloping ground. True, it was hard work, as he wasn't particularly used to working his way across such terrain, but he could manage. The new sights were completely worth any energy expended in reaching his goal. It was a nice day, even with the cold and the snow; Loon was simply glad to have wandered beyond Trenton for the first time in moons. Exploring was common for the ever-mobile loner, he never found himself sticking in any one area for long. This place, though, with its unique town and wilderness not far out had kept a strong hold on the cat's interests. While normally he'd have grown bored after two or three months, this area had kept him interested for seasons.

Curiously enough, the thought had never struck him to make an excursion into the forested area beyond the main town. He'd always known the woods were near, had always planned on venturing into them, but it had taken a cold winter day to drive him into the trees. Loon had been hesitant at first, sniffing cautiously at the pungent scent lines marking a clear border. Maybe the cats didn't want visitors. But a closer inspection told the tom that cats not smelling like the border's scent had crossed before. They must have simply been put there to mark out a home space. Besides, the forest looked so interesting it was impossible to resist ignoring the markings. So he'd stepped across and begun a fresh adventure.

Admittedly, he was little bit lost. But being lost was a fairly common occurrence for Loon.

There was a little stream he'd come across cutting through the forest, and now he clung to its path. It was the smartest course of action, and the young feline planned on keeping with it. The stream had to go somewhere, and sooner or later it would exit the woods. Once it did that, the tabby was sure he could skirt its edges and find his way back to the alleyways where he made his residence. That was for later, though; when it was fully dark out. There was still some sunlight left at the moment to better light the path, and untold adventures awaited at every turn. 'It's just too much to pass up, even though I could come back another day.' A rustling overhead called for the tabby's attention, and, turning his amber gaze upward, the cat was thrilled to spot a squirrel making its way down the chilled bark. It was different from the Trenton squirrels, scrawnier and more wild looking. 'Poor thing probably doesn't eat as much as the ones living off Upwalker scraps.' The tom crouched, readying himself to pounce at the prey.

other
hmm, think I'm done. sure, why not?

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