Post by ospreyclaw on Jul 28, 2017 5:53:45 GMT -5
[attr="class","ThunderClanImage"]
[attr="class","ThunderClanName"]
OSPREYCLAW
[PTabbedContent][PTab=Tab1]
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[PTab=Tab2]APPEARANCE mrow
PERSONALITY - Ospreyclaw carried herself like a deputy long before she ever held the title. Not lordly: just a cat who never believed she couldn't accomplish something she set her mind to, and not just willing to but eager to take on any setback.
Certainly, she knows when to tread lightly: a birth, a death, a bruised ego--but none of these keep her down for long, and her deference is usually out of kindness to her clanmates rather than any personal injury. In that sense, she has the emotional range of a dead hatchling. She prefers to read a situation by her mind rather than her heart, which is not really equipped for empathy.
One of the few constants in Ospreyclaw's adult life has been her boundless energy and confidence. Whether it's her first patrol of the day or her fourth, her strength and determination will keep the shake from her paws and her eyes clear--and she'll use this energy wherever it's needed, whether that's to literally pick up an exhausted clanmate and carry them to safety, or something as mundane as watching over the last piece of fresh-kill to ensure that the cats who need it most are well-fed. She expects a similar boundless devotion from her warriors, and is dead keen on regular training sessions, to keep them (and herself) up to speed. Being well and truly a senior warrior, she's not capable of the same endurance as when she was young, but that doesn't mean she's lost any of the skill that kept her alive so long.
Death in the abstract doesn't bother her any more: so many ThunderClan warriors have died for so many reasons and always in gruesome fashion, to say nothing of those who died disease-ridden and weak. She's going to die, and you're going to die, so we all might as well have something worth dying for. That thing, the only thing as far as Ospreyclaw is concerned, is ThunderClan. Her loyalty to the clan runs deep and unshakable: and she's proud, too, sometimes too proud for her own good, but her own confidence in herself, and her ability to see any setback as temporary, doesn't extend quite far enough to cover the clan. Disaster can and will befall any clan--particularly if you cross your own medicine cat. Cloudfur is old enough that his mentor's exile is even ancient history to Ospreyclaw, but she never forgot. War, conflict--necessary evils, as long as there are four clans in the forest, but valuing pride higher than the life of your clanmates is simply unacceptable.
She follows the warrior code insofar as it is convenient; the guidelines don't dictate every possible aspect of clan life, so it follows that there are situations the code itself cannot cover.
Ospreyclaw loves her kits, but she knows enough of death and suffering to know that her emotions are fallible, and her judgement must be unshakable if she's to be a good deputy to Turtlestar. Oh, her apprentice! That's the thing she's most proud of. Not many warriors can say that an apprentice of theirs became clan leader, and even fewer still became deputy afterwards. She's a member of a select few, which is cause for at least a little bit of self-congratulation. But the pride is her little vanity--it's all been Turtlestar's hard work thus far, and Ospreyclaw will always be there to support her, and all of her previous apprentices. Occasionally to the point of taking too keen an interest, but, well, nobody's perfect.
FAMILY -
Tinyscratch - mother, a cheerful tabby she-cat
Heatherbloom - foster mother, a delicate torbie she-cat
Mottledcrow, formerly Crowshimmer - foster mother, a sweet-natured black she-cat
Foster siblings, kits
Brackenroot - father, a heavy-set tabby tom
Yarrowbark - brother, a delicate dusky-brown tom
Burntstripe - sister, a world-weary dark tabby she-cat
Flightpaw - sister, a dark-brown she-cat
HISTORY
Oh foxdung, it's too many sodding moons ago to think about that old chestnut. It happened so long ago that her parents--mother, father, foster mothers--are all well and truly hunting with StarClan.
Ospreyclaw's father was a decent ThunderClan warrior named Brackenroot, the sort of thick-set tom for whom even simple colours were a difficulty that required some thought. Tinyscratch she doesn't remember, but her mother was apparently a competent warrior and at least well-liked by her clanmates--enough that when she died giving birth to her first litter, there were two other queens in the nursery who immediately stepped up to take care of the grief-stricken father's mewling babies.
Ospreykit, Burntkit, Yarrowkit and Flightkit grew up with all the older brothers and sisters any cat could ask for. Their foster-mothers were generally very good about ensuring each kit got enough to eat, but with so many hungry mouths to feed, going hungry wasn't uncommon. It wasn't anyone's fault: these things happened. At some point, Whitestar died and Stormstar became leader, and the kittens learned the hush-and-sit-still of formal grief.
The kittens all got along very well, all things considered. When there wasn't grieving, there was always something to do: someone to play chase with, someone to gossip with, someone to fight with. With so many kits in ThunderClan at the time, Ospreykit and Burntkit frequently snuck out of camp and played chase under the pine-trees, out of reach of their boisterous foster-siblings.
The waiting for apprenticeship was almost interminable. Two litters got apprenticed before them--two! All their older siblings! Crowshimmer even left them, going back to being a real warrior. 'Pleeeeeeeee-ase, Heatherbloom," the kits would beg. "Pleeeeeee-ase can we be apprentices now?" And Heatherbloom would a patient, if forced, smile, and say, "Good apprentices don't whine." And sometimes a warrior would come by and ask to see them crouch, or pounce, or simply shoo the kittens out of the queens' den and talk quietly. It seemed like all this talk talk talking would never end.
Until, of course, it did. Suddenly, Stormstar was calling their names, drawing them forward--and as the eldest, Ospreykit barely had time to think, I hope it's someone nice before she found herself approaching Stormstar. He was a young leader, still new to the words, and Ospreykit was pretty sure she only imagined hearing him fumble his words as he apprenticed her to the somber, sour-faced figure of Shadefrost. The new apprentice pushed her nose so eagerly into his, but the warrior retreated a little, so that instead of a whole-hearted bump, there was only the briefest contact. Ospreypaw looked confused. Shadefrost looked disconcerted. Clearly, this apprenticeship was going to go well.
To say that Ospreypaw ran rings around her mentor wouldn't be quite accurate, but it would be certainly somewhere close to the truth. Shadefrost was so slow, so cautious--and all Ospreypaw wanted to do was everything. It was so difficult to make herself slow down, to really hear every one of those few words--at first she worried that the young warrior wasn't sure what to teach her. Everything Ospreypaw did was wrong, of course, but Shadefrost just couldn't get to the point. She complained to Yarrowpaw about it, but he only laughed. "At least Shadefrost says anything--Badgerclaw just looks at you with his big dumb eyes." The apprentice made a dopey face that made Ospreypaw grin.
"No, look, this is what Shadefrost does--" she closed her eyes, inhaled for a full five heartbeats, and then exhaled in a whoosh of air. "Be like the stone, Yarrowpaw," she intoned through her nose, as Yarrowpaw snickered. "A stone does not know how to laugh."
All that light-hearted teasing began to dissipate, of course, as Shadefrost slowly began to realise how much energy his apprentice had. To his credit, Ospreypaw never quite managed to exhaust her mentor entirely--not until she was almost a warrior herself--but she came close. Repetitions, races, sparring matches: all of these, all in one day, and then a dusk patrol, would have Ospreypaw collapsed in her nest and out like a light. He was beginning to get the hang of his first apprentice.
But there were days, not many it was true but some, that the apprentice had to herself--and when she had one of those rare days, she spent it with her brother and sisters. Yarrowpaw was growing into quite the handsome tom, and all the apprentices were beginning to notice and go dopey-eyed around him--and for his part, his head swelled like a dead mouse in the greenleaf sun. Burntpaw made up ridiculous stories about what he was doing; Flightpaw rolled her eyes good-naturedly and tried to defend him, but all the sisters knew she was thinking about Hawkpaw. Everyone was whispering about who liked who, and it was infectious--like a game that had suddenly swept over everyone at once. Only Mousepaw seemed immune, and Crowshimmer's kits.
Ospreypaw, for her part, seemed to fall in and out of love so quickly you could almost hear the sound of it whistling past. Redpaw was the first, a younger apprentice who she loved fiercely and brilliantly until one day he tried to get her to agree to be mates when they were warriors, and suddenly love didn't feel like so much fun any more. He wasn't even a very good apprentice anyway; she could beat him in sparring easily.
A week after, at her first Gathering, she fell in love with a RiverClan apprentice named Jaypaw. The feeling was electric; the two were soon laughing at each other's jokes, swapping stories about their mentors, and generally getting cozier than apprentices had any right to. She had earned a bit of a reputation as a flirt when her attentions had stayed within the clan, but now the ThunderClan apprentices branded her a traitor almost instantly. The shame ended up squashing that budding romance (and Jaypaw's heart) when the two met on a border patrol and Ospreypaw bluntly called it off. Being a traitor was even less fun than being not-quite in love--in fact it stung, quite a lot, and Ospreyclaw immediately found out where her loyalties were. No pretty RiverClan she-cats or dashing ThunderClan toms would sway her ever after.
After being tarred with that brush, Ospreypaw found her number of friends sorely diminished. Redpaw's friends wanted nothing to do with her, to say nothing of Yarrowpaw, who was anxious to keep his spotless reputation and cut all ties with his sister. Burntpaw and Flightpaw were more willing to forgive--but only after word got around that she and Jaypaw were no longer on speaking terms. And, after all, they had their own romances to deal with, all those secrets and heartaches that are only eased by being shared--and in those days, Ospreypaw was a good listener.
Flightpaw died at ten moons old, killed by a hawk that had spotted the tiny apprentice on an exposed patch of WindClan border, and suddenly the three siblings' differences didn't seem so significant any more. They remained awkward (grief was not a great healer of old wounds), but at least they returned to speaking terms. Her little sister's death closed Ospreyclaw's heart off just that little bit more.
In between supporting her sister and brother, Ospreypaw turned her attentions to training. Having no friends to laze about with or romances to distract her was a blessing: she took to her lessons with a vengeance. Shadefrost was grateful for the quiet, attentive turn his apprentice had taken and wasn't about to question her change in character too intensely. He had her training with her older siblings, hunting and fighting. Her nights were full and her days too; she took intense pride in every victory and tried not to be a sore loser in defeat, and those occasions became fewer and fewer with every passing week. Her hard work (and Shadefrost's) was eventually rewarded: she received her warrior name with Crowshimmer's litter, a moon early.
Ospreyclaw doesn't tend to ruminate too much on this period of her life. ThunderClan's medicine cat was exiled, and somehow StarClan didn't immediately strike the entire Clan down in one fell swoop--though the harsh leafbare that followed certainly felt like it.
She mentored her first apprentice, fell in love a few more times, had some kits with one tom and then, after the most painful moons of her life being cooped up in the queens' den, swore that as much as she loved her kits, she would never go back as long as she lived.
She loved a few other cats towards the end of her young years, still not quite grown out of her youthful exuberance, but she handled them more gracefully than she had in her youth. Permanent attachment seemed less and less interesting; it was certainly nice to have someone to warm her nest at night, but it wouldn't stay this way forever. Other toms and she-cats began to pair off more permanently. Ospreyclaw withdrew further into herself.
There were one or two escapades; it was around this time, in a trend that would continue into her later years, when Ospreyclaw began to develop a reputation as a genuinely competent fighter. She was the cat you wanted on your side if RiverClan was looking to snap off a piece of ThunderClan's hunting grounds, the one you'd call to help fight off a fox that strayed too close to camp. She earned her fair share of battlescars.
Just before Ospreyclaw took her second apprentice, she had settled down in herself. She still encouraged other warriors to keep up their training, and invited herself along to training sessions to see what was what. Stormstar, recognising the same restless energy that Shadefrost had been unable to temper all those moons ago, soon picked her to mentor one of Brightcloud and Rockstorm's huge litter. Turtlepaw was an attentive study and the two got along well, much to the older warrior's surprise. She was almost sorry when the time came for Turtleheart to be named--but not all that sorry, because she was too busy being proud.
Which brings us to the present day. Ospreyclaw continues to attend almost every patrol she can muster. She adheres to the warrior code a little more strongly than she did in her youth, but she's still a fighty old lady and isn't afraid to poke her nose in where it's not wanted. Love her or hate her, this is her clan, and you're stuck with her.
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[PTab=Tab3]DO YOU BELIEVE IN STARCLAN? WHY OR WHY NOT?
Ospreyclaw flicks an ear. The question seems to bore her. "Of course I believe in StarClan. You don't get to my age without seeing a medicine cat predict a thing or two. Couldn't do that without them looking out for us, now, could they?"
FAVORITE HISTORICAL CAT? WHY?
"Sharpfang." Her answer is surprisingly quick, given the nonchalant drawl she usually employs. "Don't tell me you've never heard of Sharpfang! He was the one who came up with the charge-and-gouge." She treats you to a wicked little grin. "One of my favourites for uppity fish-stinkers who don't know who they're messing with."
WHAT IS YOUR GREATEST FEAR?
Her nose wrinkles. "I'm not in the habit of keeping those around. Nasty things, they'll get you killed if you're not careful." The pause draws out; she begins to wash thoroughly behind one ear. When her voice comes again, it's hard and quiet, and she won't look at you. "Couldn't abide it if anything happened to Turtlestar. Or ThunderClan, for that matter. However bad you are, there's always worse out there."
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?
This seems to cheer her up; she stops washing and instead looks thoughtful. "Hm. I suppose I'd like her to call me competent, clear-headed and cunning--after a fashion at any rate." She chuckles. "Actually, I take it back. One time, Burntstripe and I were sparring, and she slips a hind-foot, gets her claw snagged--so naturally I go for the pin and win before she can blink. She called me a cheating, stinking glob of crow bile. Can you imagine?" Her grin is ivory-fanged.
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[PTab=Tab4]USERNAME/ALIAS - Flynn!
PRONOUNS - she/her
TIMEZONE - GMT+12
OTHER CHARACTERS - Longstride
ADOPTED FROM - NPCs!
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PAST NAMES - Ospreykit, Ospreypaw
SEX - She-cat
AGE - 101 moons
CLAN & RANK - ThunderClan deputy
BRIEF DESCRIPTION - a dark brown tabby she-cat
SEX - She-cat
AGE - 101 moons
CLAN & RANK - ThunderClan deputy
BRIEF DESCRIPTION - a dark brown tabby she-cat
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[PTab=Tab2]APPEARANCE mrow
PERSONALITY - Ospreyclaw carried herself like a deputy long before she ever held the title. Not lordly: just a cat who never believed she couldn't accomplish something she set her mind to, and not just willing to but eager to take on any setback.
Certainly, she knows when to tread lightly: a birth, a death, a bruised ego--but none of these keep her down for long, and her deference is usually out of kindness to her clanmates rather than any personal injury. In that sense, she has the emotional range of a dead hatchling. She prefers to read a situation by her mind rather than her heart, which is not really equipped for empathy.
One of the few constants in Ospreyclaw's adult life has been her boundless energy and confidence. Whether it's her first patrol of the day or her fourth, her strength and determination will keep the shake from her paws and her eyes clear--and she'll use this energy wherever it's needed, whether that's to literally pick up an exhausted clanmate and carry them to safety, or something as mundane as watching over the last piece of fresh-kill to ensure that the cats who need it most are well-fed. She expects a similar boundless devotion from her warriors, and is dead keen on regular training sessions, to keep them (and herself) up to speed. Being well and truly a senior warrior, she's not capable of the same endurance as when she was young, but that doesn't mean she's lost any of the skill that kept her alive so long.
Death in the abstract doesn't bother her any more: so many ThunderClan warriors have died for so many reasons and always in gruesome fashion, to say nothing of those who died disease-ridden and weak. She's going to die, and you're going to die, so we all might as well have something worth dying for. That thing, the only thing as far as Ospreyclaw is concerned, is ThunderClan. Her loyalty to the clan runs deep and unshakable: and she's proud, too, sometimes too proud for her own good, but her own confidence in herself, and her ability to see any setback as temporary, doesn't extend quite far enough to cover the clan. Disaster can and will befall any clan--particularly if you cross your own medicine cat. Cloudfur is old enough that his mentor's exile is even ancient history to Ospreyclaw, but she never forgot. War, conflict--necessary evils, as long as there are four clans in the forest, but valuing pride higher than the life of your clanmates is simply unacceptable.
She follows the warrior code insofar as it is convenient; the guidelines don't dictate every possible aspect of clan life, so it follows that there are situations the code itself cannot cover.
Ospreyclaw loves her kits, but she knows enough of death and suffering to know that her emotions are fallible, and her judgement must be unshakable if she's to be a good deputy to Turtlestar. Oh, her apprentice! That's the thing she's most proud of. Not many warriors can say that an apprentice of theirs became clan leader, and even fewer still became deputy afterwards. She's a member of a select few, which is cause for at least a little bit of self-congratulation. But the pride is her little vanity--it's all been Turtlestar's hard work thus far, and Ospreyclaw will always be there to support her, and all of her previous apprentices. Occasionally to the point of taking too keen an interest, but, well, nobody's perfect.
FAMILY -
Foster siblings, kits
Burntstripe - sister, a world-weary dark tabby she-cat
HISTORY
Kithood
Oh foxdung, it's too many sodding moons ago to think about that old chestnut. It happened so long ago that her parents--mother, father, foster mothers--are all well and truly hunting with StarClan.
Ospreyclaw's father was a decent ThunderClan warrior named Brackenroot, the sort of thick-set tom for whom even simple colours were a difficulty that required some thought. Tinyscratch she doesn't remember, but her mother was apparently a competent warrior and at least well-liked by her clanmates--enough that when she died giving birth to her first litter, there were two other queens in the nursery who immediately stepped up to take care of the grief-stricken father's mewling babies.
Ospreykit, Burntkit, Yarrowkit and Flightkit grew up with all the older brothers and sisters any cat could ask for. Their foster-mothers were generally very good about ensuring each kit got enough to eat, but with so many hungry mouths to feed, going hungry wasn't uncommon. It wasn't anyone's fault: these things happened. At some point, Whitestar died and Stormstar became leader, and the kittens learned the hush-and-sit-still of formal grief.
The kittens all got along very well, all things considered. When there wasn't grieving, there was always something to do: someone to play chase with, someone to gossip with, someone to fight with. With so many kits in ThunderClan at the time, Ospreykit and Burntkit frequently snuck out of camp and played chase under the pine-trees, out of reach of their boisterous foster-siblings.
Apprenticeship
The waiting for apprenticeship was almost interminable. Two litters got apprenticed before them--two! All their older siblings! Crowshimmer even left them, going back to being a real warrior. 'Pleeeeeeeee-ase, Heatherbloom," the kits would beg. "Pleeeeeee-ase can we be apprentices now?" And Heatherbloom would a patient, if forced, smile, and say, "Good apprentices don't whine." And sometimes a warrior would come by and ask to see them crouch, or pounce, or simply shoo the kittens out of the queens' den and talk quietly. It seemed like all this talk talk talking would never end.
Until, of course, it did. Suddenly, Stormstar was calling their names, drawing them forward--and as the eldest, Ospreykit barely had time to think, I hope it's someone nice before she found herself approaching Stormstar. He was a young leader, still new to the words, and Ospreykit was pretty sure she only imagined hearing him fumble his words as he apprenticed her to the somber, sour-faced figure of Shadefrost. The new apprentice pushed her nose so eagerly into his, but the warrior retreated a little, so that instead of a whole-hearted bump, there was only the briefest contact. Ospreypaw looked confused. Shadefrost looked disconcerted. Clearly, this apprenticeship was going to go well.
To say that Ospreypaw ran rings around her mentor wouldn't be quite accurate, but it would be certainly somewhere close to the truth. Shadefrost was so slow, so cautious--and all Ospreypaw wanted to do was everything. It was so difficult to make herself slow down, to really hear every one of those few words--at first she worried that the young warrior wasn't sure what to teach her. Everything Ospreypaw did was wrong, of course, but Shadefrost just couldn't get to the point. She complained to Yarrowpaw about it, but he only laughed. "At least Shadefrost says anything--Badgerclaw just looks at you with his big dumb eyes." The apprentice made a dopey face that made Ospreypaw grin.
"No, look, this is what Shadefrost does--" she closed her eyes, inhaled for a full five heartbeats, and then exhaled in a whoosh of air. "Be like the stone, Yarrowpaw," she intoned through her nose, as Yarrowpaw snickered. "A stone does not know how to laugh."
All that light-hearted teasing began to dissipate, of course, as Shadefrost slowly began to realise how much energy his apprentice had. To his credit, Ospreypaw never quite managed to exhaust her mentor entirely--not until she was almost a warrior herself--but she came close. Repetitions, races, sparring matches: all of these, all in one day, and then a dusk patrol, would have Ospreypaw collapsed in her nest and out like a light. He was beginning to get the hang of his first apprentice.
But there were days, not many it was true but some, that the apprentice had to herself--and when she had one of those rare days, she spent it with her brother and sisters. Yarrowpaw was growing into quite the handsome tom, and all the apprentices were beginning to notice and go dopey-eyed around him--and for his part, his head swelled like a dead mouse in the greenleaf sun. Burntpaw made up ridiculous stories about what he was doing; Flightpaw rolled her eyes good-naturedly and tried to defend him, but all the sisters knew she was thinking about Hawkpaw. Everyone was whispering about who liked who, and it was infectious--like a game that had suddenly swept over everyone at once. Only Mousepaw seemed immune, and Crowshimmer's kits.
Ospreypaw, for her part, seemed to fall in and out of love so quickly you could almost hear the sound of it whistling past. Redpaw was the first, a younger apprentice who she loved fiercely and brilliantly until one day he tried to get her to agree to be mates when they were warriors, and suddenly love didn't feel like so much fun any more. He wasn't even a very good apprentice anyway; she could beat him in sparring easily.
A week after, at her first Gathering, she fell in love with a RiverClan apprentice named Jaypaw. The feeling was electric; the two were soon laughing at each other's jokes, swapping stories about their mentors, and generally getting cozier than apprentices had any right to. She had earned a bit of a reputation as a flirt when her attentions had stayed within the clan, but now the ThunderClan apprentices branded her a traitor almost instantly. The shame ended up squashing that budding romance (and Jaypaw's heart) when the two met on a border patrol and Ospreypaw bluntly called it off. Being a traitor was even less fun than being not-quite in love--in fact it stung, quite a lot, and Ospreyclaw immediately found out where her loyalties were. No pretty RiverClan she-cats or dashing ThunderClan toms would sway her ever after.
After being tarred with that brush, Ospreypaw found her number of friends sorely diminished. Redpaw's friends wanted nothing to do with her, to say nothing of Yarrowpaw, who was anxious to keep his spotless reputation and cut all ties with his sister. Burntpaw and Flightpaw were more willing to forgive--but only after word got around that she and Jaypaw were no longer on speaking terms. And, after all, they had their own romances to deal with, all those secrets and heartaches that are only eased by being shared--and in those days, Ospreypaw was a good listener.
Flightpaw died at ten moons old, killed by a hawk that had spotted the tiny apprentice on an exposed patch of WindClan border, and suddenly the three siblings' differences didn't seem so significant any more. They remained awkward (grief was not a great healer of old wounds), but at least they returned to speaking terms. Her little sister's death closed Ospreyclaw's heart off just that little bit more.
In between supporting her sister and brother, Ospreypaw turned her attentions to training. Having no friends to laze about with or romances to distract her was a blessing: she took to her lessons with a vengeance. Shadefrost was grateful for the quiet, attentive turn his apprentice had taken and wasn't about to question her change in character too intensely. He had her training with her older siblings, hunting and fighting. Her nights were full and her days too; she took intense pride in every victory and tried not to be a sore loser in defeat, and those occasions became fewer and fewer with every passing week. Her hard work (and Shadefrost's) was eventually rewarded: she received her warrior name with Crowshimmer's litter, a moon early.
Early warriorhood
Ospreyclaw doesn't tend to ruminate too much on this period of her life. ThunderClan's medicine cat was exiled, and somehow StarClan didn't immediately strike the entire Clan down in one fell swoop--though the harsh leafbare that followed certainly felt like it.
She mentored her first apprentice, fell in love a few more times, had some kits with one tom and then, after the most painful moons of her life being cooped up in the queens' den, swore that as much as she loved her kits, she would never go back as long as she lived.
She loved a few other cats towards the end of her young years, still not quite grown out of her youthful exuberance, but she handled them more gracefully than she had in her youth. Permanent attachment seemed less and less interesting; it was certainly nice to have someone to warm her nest at night, but it wouldn't stay this way forever. Other toms and she-cats began to pair off more permanently. Ospreyclaw withdrew further into herself.
There were one or two escapades; it was around this time, in a trend that would continue into her later years, when Ospreyclaw began to develop a reputation as a genuinely competent fighter. She was the cat you wanted on your side if RiverClan was looking to snap off a piece of ThunderClan's hunting grounds, the one you'd call to help fight off a fox that strayed too close to camp. She earned her fair share of battlescars.
Late warriorhood
Just before Ospreyclaw took her second apprentice, she had settled down in herself. She still encouraged other warriors to keep up their training, and invited herself along to training sessions to see what was what. Stormstar, recognising the same restless energy that Shadefrost had been unable to temper all those moons ago, soon picked her to mentor one of Brightcloud and Rockstorm's huge litter. Turtlepaw was an attentive study and the two got along well, much to the older warrior's surprise. She was almost sorry when the time came for Turtleheart to be named--but not all that sorry, because she was too busy being proud.
Senior warriorhood
Which brings us to the present day. Ospreyclaw continues to attend almost every patrol she can muster. She adheres to the warrior code a little more strongly than she did in her youth, but she's still a fighty old lady and isn't afraid to poke her nose in where it's not wanted. Love her or hate her, this is her clan, and you're stuck with her.
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[PTab=Tab3]DO YOU BELIEVE IN STARCLAN? WHY OR WHY NOT?
Ospreyclaw flicks an ear. The question seems to bore her. "Of course I believe in StarClan. You don't get to my age without seeing a medicine cat predict a thing or two. Couldn't do that without them looking out for us, now, could they?"
FAVORITE HISTORICAL CAT? WHY?
"Sharpfang." Her answer is surprisingly quick, given the nonchalant drawl she usually employs. "Don't tell me you've never heard of Sharpfang! He was the one who came up with the charge-and-gouge." She treats you to a wicked little grin. "One of my favourites for uppity fish-stinkers who don't know who they're messing with."
WHAT IS YOUR GREATEST FEAR?
Her nose wrinkles. "I'm not in the habit of keeping those around. Nasty things, they'll get you killed if you're not careful." The pause draws out; she begins to wash thoroughly behind one ear. When her voice comes again, it's hard and quiet, and she won't look at you. "Couldn't abide it if anything happened to Turtlestar. Or ThunderClan, for that matter. However bad you are, there's always worse out there."
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?
This seems to cheer her up; she stops washing and instead looks thoughtful. "Hm. I suppose I'd like her to call me competent, clear-headed and cunning--after a fashion at any rate." She chuckles. "Actually, I take it back. One time, Burntstripe and I were sparring, and she slips a hind-foot, gets her claw snagged--so naturally I go for the pin and win before she can blink. She called me a cheating, stinking glob of crow bile. Can you imagine?" Her grin is ivory-fanged.
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[PTab=Tab4]USERNAME/ALIAS - Flynn!
PRONOUNS - she/her
TIMEZONE - GMT+12
OTHER CHARACTERS - Longstride
ADOPTED FROM - NPCs!
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