ASTERFANG

[Deleted]

[attr="class","WindClanImage"]

[attr="class","WindClanName"]

ASTERFANG

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PAST NAMES - asterkit - asterpaw

SEX - she-cat

AGE - 55 moons

CLAN & RANK - WindClan warrior

BRIEF DESCRIPTION - lithe pale orange tabby she-cat with green eyes. image credit

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[PTab=Tab2]APPEARANCE - photostream

PERSONALITY

• ambitious
  there is little that will stand in the way of the she-cat once she sets her mind to it. she knows what she wants and she goes for it, seemingly regardless of the consequences. ever since she watched her siblings excel while she fell behind when they were apprentices, asterfang has been driven to succeed. everything she does, perhaps nothing more so than her warrior duties, is driving by an insatiable need to be the best she can be. it doesn't hurt if she's better than everyone else, as well.
  
• charismatic
  charming, for those who do not know her personally, may be the choice word for describing her. the she-cat knows how to use this to get her way, and it has proven useful in tense situations, though she is far from the most diplomatic cat. while she isn't necessarily nice, the she-cat gets away with being rude by giving backhanded compliments and throwing a wink in for good measure.
• petty.
  as she begins to get older, the she-cat has found a new appreciation for 'beautiful', young cats. those that move effortlessly, gracefully, and who steal everyone's attention and those that excel without hard work, the ones who are adept at everything they do without ever having to try, will cause her to become the cattiest, most cynical cat you have ever laid eyes upon. she is not above mocking your voice behind your back in light of your bragging; this is, and always will be her tragic flaw.
• assertive.
  be sure not to mistake asterfang’s assertiveness for confidence. the she-cat mask much of her insecurities in an extroverted personality, and by making herself seem bigger than she is, both in stature and in the way she acts. asterfang doesn’t back down from a challenge, and sometimes she can come off as aggressive, but it is never her intent. by making sure her voice is heard, asterfang has found that she is taken move seriously as a warrior.
• short-tempered.
  ever since the she-cat was a kit, her temper has been shorter and more volatile than most. reserved for those that she holds near and dear to her heart, the she-cat has almost mastered the skill of shutting up when she becomes angry, and only let it show around her mate, or her kits - those she trusts above all else. while her fuse may be short, the she-cat very rarely raises her voice in anger, choosing to remain silent and brooding. she isn't perfect though, and there are times when there is no question about just how angry she is. don't mind anything she says to you when she is in this mood, for more often than not, she will apologize for being mean to you; if she believes you deserve an apology, that is.
• optimist.
  despite the darkness that has shrouded her life since her daughter addertail was killed, asterfang sees the world in sunshine and rainbows. everyday is an opportunity for something great to happen, and she knows that even when it rains, the sun will always come out again. not much gets her and keeps her down, though the death of her daughter has left a mark that will never be fully healed, but she has managed to keep her head up in light of the adversity she has faced.

[/b] -

• mother: mousestep - npc
  father: ternstrike - deceased
  sister: ambersong - npc
  brother: birchtail - npc
  daughters: addertail - deceased, daisysong, cinderstrike - npcs
  son: lynxheart - npc

HISTORY
“one more kit, mousestep!” the she-cat glares at the medicine cat, agony ripping through her old body. she is no longer as young as she used to be, her life of a warrior soon to be over for favour of the elders den. blindness threatens her eyes, damning her to early retirement. she wonders why she decided to have kits again - her third litter - when her first two were so perfect.

“you have another she-kit!” the medicine cats voice is calm, but mousestep could almost hear the smile though she can’t see it. the queen, though exhausted from the effort required to birth her three kits, forces herself to prop herself up on her front legs to look at her kits. they are all tabbies, ranging from the palest of oranges, to orange splashed with white, and a pale grey tabby tom. mousestep’s eyes fill with tears, wishing that her mate – their father – was here to see his kits being born, but starclan had failed her. her final litter would be her responsibility alone, and she would rather die than see someone else raising them. she would raise three strong, healthy kits all by herself, and then retire.

taking in a deep breath, the she-cat observed all three of her kits, concerned about their smaller than average size and frowned. they needed good, strong names so that they too would be strong. with the slightest of smiles, the she-cat swept her tail around her three kits as they suckled at her belly. “birchkit.” she spoke softly, but with commitment as she looked fondly at the grey tom. “amberkit.” she purred as the name rolled off of her tongue. “and what name for you, my sweet?”9 the pale orange tabby mewled more than suckled. the queen gave the she-kit a lick on the head, warmth and adoration lighting her ochre eyes. “asterkit.” the kit stopped mewling and snuggled in closer to her mothers’ stomach, rocked gently by the purrs emanating from the practiced mother.

squeals of joy erupted from the three kits birthed only moons before. snow drifted down from the sky, blanketing the earth in a soft hush.

“momma! what is this?!” you cry out in feverous delight as your small paws make miniscule prints on the ground. you’ve never seen anything like it, having been born just a moon shy of leaf-bare. it was a late pregnancy, and one that wasn’t planned to occur. you are nigh old enough to be out of the nursery with your siblings, while your mother keeps a close watch from within the opening. “it’s so cold!” you squeak out, as you recognize what must be a shiver racing through your spine, shaking your tiny frame. birchkit and amberkit are already a rabbits length in front of you, their bodies strong even at four moons old. you wish you were as strong as them, able to play as rough as they do, but your mother warns you against play fighting. she says you are too delicate for that. you become acquainted early with the green eyed monster.

“it’s snow, my sweet.” your mother’s voice is tired, betraying her age, and everyday, her eyes become more white as the cataracts begin to take over her vision. you don’t understand why your mother walks slower than the other queens, or why she is always using her tail to guide her. you understand that she is older than the other queens, but when you ask her if she is going to go back to being a warrior, she gives you a sad smile. “snow.” you test the word out, enjoying the way it rolls off of your tongue, and you are amazed by the brightness it bathes the camp in. you stand shivering for a moment longer before racing after our siblings with pure joy etched on your delicate pale tabby features. you bump into birchkit, who growls playfully at you, and then tackles you into the snow. soon amberkit joins as well, and within a matter of moments, you are all soaked to the skin with snow.

“asterkit! come back to the den before you catch a chill!” your mother’s words make your blood boil, and grumbling under your breath, you stomp back to the den where your mother picks you up by the scruff of your neck. you want to protest, but you submit to her. afterall, she only wants what’s best for you. she sets you down gently in your nest, and she begins to groom you, and despite yourself, you purr and slowly feel yourself falling to sleep. you dream of being a warrior, of running through the plains of windclan with the wind in your fur and the scent of rabbits heavy on your tongue. you are weightless, soaring over the grass, your paws barely touching the ground. you are strong, the size of your brother and sister, and the swiftest cat in windclan.

“let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather before the high mound for a clan meeting!” warriors and apprentices swarm the clearing. you can’t sit still. this is your moment.

there is an air of excitement, your body quivers with anticipation. you hope to get a nice mentor, one who won’t treat you like your delicate. you are beyond annoyed of your mother’s constant worry, and are ready to prove yourself just as adequate as your siblings. you sit as patiently as you can as birchkit is called forward, and he is given his apprentice name. his mentor is a lithe she-cat, with a gnarly scar running along her left flank. amberkit’s mentor is a young warrior, who is almost as excited as she is. it is now your turn. you step forward and the leader looks down on you with warmth, and pride, the same look she has given your siblings. she calls for a warrior, black as night with eyes that bore into your soul. you are terrified as you touch noses with her. you and your siblings cuddle together that night in the apprentice’s den, and sleep soundly.

your first training session is a disaster. your mentor is hard, and angry, and has no time for your excuses, or your pouting. it doesn’t stop you though. you don’t want to do a tour of the territory with your siblings. you walk with a storm cloud over your head and mumble under your breath. your siblings are excited and full of questions. your mentor keeps shooting glares over her shoulder at you. the tour ends on a sour note, as your mentor commends your brother and sister for their attentiveness. she speaks no words to you for the entire trip back, and once at the camp, commands you to get something to eat then go tend to the elders.

you stomp off to the elders den, your nose already curling at the thought of listening to them talk your ear off. you haven’t spent a lot of time with the elders, merely heard tales of their never ending tirades about the past from the older apprentices in passing. you have also heard of the infamous mouse bile, and you hope that the medicine cat hasn’t been around in the last little while. you poke your head in, and one of the elders is licking their chest fur and barely starts when you enter the den. he looks at you, and you gasp at the sight of the left side of his face. there is a pink scar where his eye should be, and scars score their way down from the base of his ear, to the corner of his mouth. his good eye narrows and he calls you over.

“finally! in my day, I never made the elders wait for clean bedding. get in here and get this soiled moss out of here.” his voice is hoarse, and he smells stale. you realize that he probably hasn’t had a proper grooming in a while. you glare up at him and your whiskers twitch. “i have been busy with my mentor, thank you very much! and if you didn’t stink so bad, your bedding wouldn’t be so soiled!” you realize after you have spoken that you are out of line, but you refuse to apology. the tom cocks his head to the side, and to your surprise, he smiles. “feisty one, aren’t we?” he laughs at your expense and then shoos you away to bring back more bedding. against all odds, heronstep becomes your confidante.

you continue your training, and to your dismay, your brother and sister are growing stronger day by day, and are beginning to resemble your mother in body and in mind. you are still small, lithe and quick on your paws, but you are not strong. your endurance is not up to par, and you fear that you are not cut out to be a warrior. you spend a lot of time with heronstep, speaking about your woes, and more often than not, he is blunt with you.

“asterpaw, you are not like your brother and sister. they have the minds of warriors. you still walk around with a chip on your shoulder, thinking you have something to prove, but don’t do any extra work to prove whatever it is. buck up, kid. I’m sick of your complainin’.” heronstep has no time for your temper tantrums, and though he hurt your feelings, you know he is right. you still see yourself as the kit that wasn’t allowed to play with your siblings, and that you will never be good enough to be a warrior. it takes you until you are three months into your training to realize it, but you now know that you have been wrong. windclan cats are not born to be big and strong, clumsy and heavy footed. they are born to be swift, and sure footed, silent as a hawk soaring through the air.

you awake the next morning with a new fire in your heart, and determination that can’t be bridled. when you present yourself to your mentor, you speak with respect, and are rearing to go. nothing can stop you from becoming the warrior you were always destined to be. crowscreech is impressed with your feverity, and she pushes you to your limits. you hold your own in battle training, pushing harder and harder. you thrive while hunting, your lithe frame and long legs making it easy to cover the distance. before you know it, it is the morning of your final assessment. you have come a long way from the whiny, entitled brat you were when you first became an apprentice, and you refuse to let your brother and sister show you up.

hawkclaw is the most handsome cat you have ever laid eyes on. he is older than you, and has no time for you, but you are enthralled with his grace and success as a warrior.

you never really saw yourself as the type to want a mate, but whenever you look at hawkclaw, butterflies erupt in your stomach and you can’t speak. you become jealous of his relationships with other she-cats, and he isn’t even your mate. the tom has no idea who you are, but you are hard pressed to show him who you are and make sure that he remembers you. you try every time you are on a hunting patrol with him, and you are first to offer your assistance when the leader wants something done. it takes about four moons, but soon the elusive tom knows your name and asks you out on a patrol with him. you smirk at him, and tell him you’re flattered but not interested. you have conquered your prey, and stolen his attention away from the other she-cats. no, you will initiate something when you are ready.

you are twenty moons when your sister announces that she is pregnant. jealous boils your blood; everything always came so easy for ambersong, while you’ve had to work. her mate practically grovelled at her feet before she accepted him as hers. you’re annoyed that she would be the first to bear kits. your mother is thrilled, and will tell anyone who will listen that her daughter is pregnant. according to heronstep, she never shuts up and drives the other elders crazy. you tell him of your jealousy, and he gapes at you and shakes his head. he tells you that you could have it too, if you would stop playing games with poor hawkclaw. you know he’s right. again.

shortly after your sisters kits are born, you become pregnant. you have spent the last several moons getting to know hawkclaw, and making sure he is the right cat for you. you were reluctant at first, but the tom finds your temper enticing, and your ambition intriguing, and he never stops you from going after something that you want. so when you announce that you want to be a mother, he is more than happy to oblige. you know that you will have to take some time off from your warrior duties so that you can stay healthy for your unborn kits, and it leaves a sour taste in your mouth but you don’t argue. all you ask is to be able to remain a warrior until the last possible moment. and you do just that.

you have an easy pregnancy, and for the most part, you follow the medicine cats instructions. you don’t necessarily follow them to a tee, but enough that you don’t put your kits at risk. you give birth on a chilly green-leaf morning to four beautiful kittens. you and eagleclaw argue over names – as you do about most things – and finally agree one adderkit, cinderkit, daisykit, and lynxkit. you have three she-cats, and a tom, respectively, and they are the most beautiful creatures you have ever laid eyes on. your sister and her kits – now four moons – are almost as excited as you are about the new additions to the rapidly growing family, and though your mother is completely blind now, she is overwhelmed with pride at the ‘sight’ of her grandkits.

heronstep has told you that he would come an visit you after your kits were born, but he has yet to show up. you have been confined to bed rest for two days prior to the birthing, and are becoming increasingly uneasy about the entire thing. Hawkclaw runs interference for the two of you, but he reports nothing suspect after visiting with the ornery old tom cat. however, eagleclaw was wrong, as was nearly everyone else who had visited with him. the medicine cat said something happened that caused his body to convulse, and it put too much strain on his heart. he had a stroke, though these words were not used directly. your heart is heavy with the news, and you grieve silently, unable to sit vigil with your oldest and dearest friend.

“adderkit, you get your tail back over here or so help me!” you sound like your mother, though none of your kits are as fragile as you were. their energy rivals your own, and you pray for the days of before.

your three other kits play around your body, attacking your tail as it flicks with agitation at their sister. adderkit is the spitting image of you personality wise, and some days you want to strangle her. you watch her with annoyance as she trots back to you, all high and mighty, but one look at her face and she shrinks in on herself. she squeaks out an apology and goes to play with her siblings but as she turns away, you snag her by the scruff of the neck and drop her between your front paws. you begin to groom her, while your chest vibrates with the force of your purrs and you laugh as she complains about you ‘babying’ her.

your time in the nursery is relaxing, but you are going stir crazy. five moons laying around doing nothing is clawing at your sanity and you are very ready for your kits to become apprentices. they are definitely their father’s children, and even with them being the only kits in the nursery, it feels crowded. you love your kits with all of your heart, there is no denying it, but you long to be back out on the moors racing after a rabbit, and telling off the other clans who venture a little too close to the border. you are almost thirty moons, and you haven’t even had an apprentice yet. your dreams of becoming deputy and then leader are falling out of your grasp. at this rate, you will never have reach your dreams. you think to yourself what your life would look like if you and eagleclaw had decided to stay kitless, but all you see is emptiness. you would do it all over again.

your apprentice is smart, almost too smart. he has a sharp tongue and more often than not, you are left exasperated at the fact that he can outwit you. you thought that four kits were a pawful, but you never expected to be tested by an apprentice. he is younger than your kits by three moons, a product of a she-cat and her mate, whose names escape you. they have high hopes for their son; the only kitten to carry to term. you aren’t so sure he will survive his apprenticeship.

“not like that, newtpaw. you are landing too heavily. watch again.” your voice is curt, but there is no impatience. your life as a mother has taught you that patience is a virtue when it comes to dealing with the younger cats of the clan. your mentor never had any patience with you, and you refuse to make the same mistakes with him. you stalk the training area, pretending that you are locked in a showdown with an enemy cat. your paws fall lightly, your muscles taught so that you can react at a moments notice. your apprentice watches you with a scowl on his face as you duck down, roll on your back out of the way of the make-believe warriors attack and then spring back onto your paws. the move is over in a blink of an eye and as you turn to look at your apprentice, he is yawning. “defensive movement is just as important as offensive.” you scold him, a glare present on your face. he doesn’t meet your eye.

newtpaw shows great potential as a fighter, but his hunting leaves something to be desired. you run your voice hoarse explaining again and again the way that windclan cats hunt. you explain the technique involved, how important it is to power your hunt with your hind legs, and to pay attention to the movements of your quarry. after several failed attempts, the two of you wander back to camp, you pouting about your incompetence as a warrior, and newtpaw yawning with exhaustion. you instinctively make your way towards the elders’ den, meaning to speak with heronstep, and then you remember that he is is dead. it’s a hard blow to take every time you are made to remember. you let out a sigh, and find hawkclaw instead. you find him laying by the entrance to the warriors’ den, sprawled out with a she-cat sitting uncomfortably close to him.

“greetings lavenderpelt.” your tone is not friendly, your eyes cold and your ears turned back slightly. she looks at you with her bright blue eyes and the smile drops from her face. “hey asterfang.” her voice quivers as she dismisses herself from the situation. your mate glares at you, and you glare back. you aren’t afraid to remind him that he is your mate, and it would be a dark day if he ever forgot it. you lay down beside him and he begins to groom you as you complain about your apprentice.

“maybe he doesn’t understand the move when you show it to him entirely. have you tried walking him through it step by step, ensuring he understands each step?” hawkclaw purrs as he speaks, and while it seems like such a simple solution, you can’t believe you didn’t think of it yourself.

with hawkclaw’s suggestion in mind, you set out the next day, determined to make sure your apprentice succeeds. he greets you, cheerful as always, and prances behind you with his tail straight up in the air, chatting your ear off. you are equally as cheerful, but yours is channelled in a different way. as you reach the training area, you face newtpaw and tell him exactly how the day is going to go. he responds with a nod instead of words for once, and while you are taken back slightly, you smile crookedly and the two of you begin. it is smooth sailing from there.

the day your kits become warriors is the happiest day of your life – other than their birth. they have grown into fine warriors, exceptional additions to windclan. addertail is an extraordinary hunter, and you know that she got it from you. cinderstrike is a skilled fighter. Daisysong has an uncanny way with words, and can soothe even the busiest of minds. lynxheart is the poster child for clan loyalty. you sit with eagleclaw as you listen to your four kits receive their warrior names, and your heart swells with pride. you look deep into the eyes of your mate, who stares lovingly back at you. he rakes his tongue over your cheek and whispers that he loves you.

no one is sure how it happened. you questioned, and yelled, yowled and wailed like a kit, but no one seen what took addertail from you. the patrol had gone to the border, and had returned looking disgruntled and heavy hearted. the sight of your daughters mangled body burns in your mind, a picture you will never be able to get rid of. the medicine cat says the teeth and claw marks are consistent with that of a fox, and the scent seems to support it, but you have a hard time believing it. how did the patrol not scent the fox, and drive it away? you were told addertail wandered off by herself, but you insist that she would never. you meticulously groom your daughters fur, ready to let the elders bury her. Hawkclaw presses into you and reminds you that you will see her again in starclan. you can't meet his gaze.

you carry on with your duties the best you can, and you slowly begin to heal from the heart ache. you'll never stop missing your daughter, knowing you will never see her again, but you know that life must go on. but everything is a little darker without your daughters bright presence.

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[PTab=Tab3]DO YOU BELIEVE IN STARCLAN? WHY OR WHY NOT?

• the she-cat gives you a quizzical look, and rolls her eyes. "what kind of question is that? you are asking me if i believe in the idea of cats in the sky? living among the stars? it is a nursery tale, something thought up by elders to give insignificant cats something bigger to believe in than themselves." the tabby flicks her tail, and scoffs. "starclan is a fallacy filling the clans' heads with ideas of granduer. so no, i do not believe in starclan, nor the idea of it. however, this is not something that i divulge to anyone, so please keep it to yourself."

FAVORITE HISTORICAL CAT? WHY?

• asterfang casts her gaze down to her paws, the tip of her tail flicking. she doesn't meet your gaze."heronstep. i know for many, he was just another warrior. but he was so much more." with a twitch of her whiskers, her green gaze meets yours with fire. "heronstep gave away his time when he didn't have it to listen to the ramblings of an apprentice drowning in self-pity. he never had a mean word to say about anyone, and even when he was dying, he took the time to check up on me and my kits. he made me a better warrior, and a better mother.."

WHAT IS YOUR GREATEST FEAR?

• asterfang sighs heavily. "i already lost one of my kits and i barely survived it. the thought of losing another? terrifying."

IF YOUR BEST FRIEND/MOTHER/WHOEVER KNOWS YOU WELL COULD DESCRIBE YOU IN THREE INDIVIDUAL WORDS, WHAT WOULD THOSE BE? DO YOU AGREE OR DISAGREE?

• "my mate would say, stubborn, driven and loving. asterfang shakes her head, and chuckles softly. "i don't know if i agree with loving. i love my kits, and i love my mate, but i'm not an overly warm individual. but, i know i can be stubborn; it's how i finally got eagleclaw to notice me and agree to be my mate. and anyone who knows me, knows that i strive for greatness, so that's not exactly a secret."
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  [PTab=Tab4]USERNAME/ALIAS - envy
  
  PRONOUNS - she/her
  
  TIMEZONE - MDT
  
  OTHER CHARACTERS - n/a
  
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[Rabiddog]

WELCOME to Overgrown Coppice, WindClanner! StarClan foresees great things for this one. But it might help to be set on your path. PLOT with other cats from any or no Clan. You might wish to keep track of your adventures in a LOG or TRACKER. Have any relatives or NPCs? Post HERE (you can also make a Wanted Ad). Don't forget the WHO'S WHO, FACE CLAIM, NAME CLAIM, and MENTOR/APPRENTICE threads so everyone knows who you are. And if you have no Face claim, check out our DEFAULT IMAGES.

Remember the warrior code --
and have fun!

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