roanfur - thunderclan med

[ronnie]

name roanfur
age 47 moons
gender male
clan thunderclan
rank warrior

picture behold the normality
summary brown tabby tom with pale eyes
physical description warriors aren't born. they are earned. a slacker from the start, this small tom never had been one for gaining strength or weight, and certainly had never been the strongest kit of the litter. a pure sign of a burden, it had almost been decided since birth that he would grow up to be a medicine cat. with short legs and a small, lean body, he would almost fit right in as a typical windclan cat. his broad shoulders do give a sign of the thunderclan heritage behind the tom, however they do nothing but assist his smaller than average size. he may have broad shoulders, but being such a thin cat under his fur, it doesn't seem to help him as much as he wishes. a wide, broad face sits upon a firm neck, and what appears to be a constant serious frown drapes across the tom's face. it's almost as though he has spent his entire life drowning at something.

little paws, a long tail, and an athletically lean frame add to his handsomely small size. it is rather a shame for such a tom to be bound by the restrictions of the warrior code; he could've made a great father and mate. all in size and proportions, however, very little can continue to be said.

sung like a song, markings swirl as great protectors. beautiful brown, tabby fur add to this tom's handsome looks. his pelt is a thick, prickly frame of soft browns mixed with swirls of black and roan. the fur upon his chest and throat is a common white, second nature to the majority of tabby cats. his paws are a dirty white, as though he walked through mud and licked them half clean, then allowed the rest to stain his pelt. black stripes encircle his chest and muzzle, creating tabby striations across his pelt. upon his muzzle, orange fur colours the interior edges of his cheeks, millimeters after, the fur turns lighter in to more white colour. around his nose and eyes, the fur is lighter than what it is among the rest of his pelt. upon his back and sides and flanks, his fur is mostly dark, and his tail is even black. almost entirely, anyways.

in the centre of his face, or near centre, his eyes speak of a faded green-gray colour that is rather odd for his fur colouring. it isn't really impossible, as the proof is right there, but those colour eyes seem out of place on his dark pelt. most dark furred cats have bright yellow or amber eyes, not a dark green-gray. nothing appalling, but perhaps noticeable. his nose is a dark, far more red than pink, nose. not blood red or anything, but just darker than the average pink nose. more pronounced because of black furs around it, at least some facial feature fits in with his pelt's colour. The scar upun his nose, or rather, off to one side, is not completely noticeable. it may be thought of as just flaw in his pelt, but it is a scar, one of the few any typical medicine cat may ever receive.

personal description and they never stop running
he was a lazy cat, but over the last few moons he has decided to actually get around to doing his job. he stops resenting the fact that he is a medicine cat, forced to stay in camp when his clan mates are out doing something special. he always has wanted kits of his own, and he resents the fact that he can't, and that he must deny his feelings every time he wakes up in the morning. part of him regrets the decision he made many moons ago when he decided to be a medicine cat, and at times he wishes he could reverse time and go back and be a warrior instead. that would be more fun than sitting around picking up herbs all the time. because of his feelings of regret, he is slightly irritable and is prone to snapping at clan mates when they bug him excessively about doing medicine cat duties. although short-tempered and not in the right line of work for his personality, he has decided to stop whining about it and just accept it; he can't spend his whole life living in the past.

on the other hand, he is very good at his job. he has long since known which herbs heals which wounds and how they should be mixed in to a poultice; he even tries his own ideas to add to the flavour and sweetness of poultices that may not taste so good. despite his resentment, it isn't permanent and the tom, when on duty and helping, can be very empathetic. unfortunately he is a squeamish when it comes to very bad wounds. fortunately when a medicine cat is healing they are very focused on the task and hardly realize the grossness, or the emotionally impairing severity of it. until after. he is bad at controlling his emotions, usually; he is a bit better at hiding his anger and irritation, however it is still a poor best. when upset, and not focused on something, he usually lets his emotions out to one of his friends and sometimes, to another cat who may be feeling as much stress as he is. he isn't completely useless.

he knows his limits, and knows other cats limits and tries not to push them beyond what they should be. it's part of his job, as he sees it, to understand others and try and keep them calm. he is good at a few things, and being bossy and giving out orders to his clan mates is one of them.he likes to be the centre of attention some times, and he likes feeling strong and powerful to his clan mates when he is the complete opposite on the inside. he wants to be noticed because he feels as though he isn't appreciated nor is he popular amongst his clan mates. he tries to make as many friends as possible and is a bit over dramatic when giving out prophecies. that's his way, though. and his clan mates listen to him then, at least. he wants to be thanked, but when someone thanks him he feels guilty and wishes they hadn't thanked him. if they don't thank him then he gets annoyed and insults them angrily in his head. there are many events to lead to that same train of thought in roanfur's life. he knows that as well as anyone.

family mother - snowfoot ; father - oakfur ; sister - whitefoot ; brother - brackentail
history youth is the enemy of age
work was never a prospect to this tom from a young age. from the moment he was born, in his tiny family of three youngsters and two parents, with no aunts or uncles to speak of, he was the smallest. he was always the weakest. from birth he was struck with kitten cough, barely saved by the former clan medicine cat who seemed to take it upon himself to care for roankit whenever the young kit was sick. it was a lot, for he was born in leaf bare and had a lack of resistance towards anything that floated around the camp. if white-cough was in, he was likely to get it, and therefore, separated from his siblings in order to protect them from catching it as well. over time, he got a bit stronger on the inside, and it was almost as though a quarantine was lifted and he was allowed to explore the world. his mother was always over protective about him and felt the need to watch over him and never leave his side as a kit. she feared for him.

roankit didn't take this well, and bickered often at his mother, too. he felt as though he couldn't do anything, he couldn't explore, because she was always watching his back! he just wanted to play with his litter mates without her fussing over him when he squealed. at least his father wasn't so over dramatic. an overly loyal warrior, he always believed in his son and always thought he could be a great warrior if he was allowed. this didn't go over with roankit as well as his mother's protectiveness. when his mother wasn't around, his father was always their trying to make him stronger, believing that strength was all in muscle and size, that there was no such thing as a strong heart that made a cat a warrior. he believed that to be in thunderclan, broad shoulders and large bodies were all that counted. fighting skill and hunting skill was nothing as long as you were a strong cat.

desperate to prove himself to both his parents, and fearing being his 'mommy's little boy' forever, or his father's play thing, he chose a path that included being separate from his clan mates, but still being part of the clan. he went to the medicine cat's den, finally taking initiative, though a bit shy, and requested to be his apprentice. of course he was accepted, for the medicine cat already liked roankit who had spent so many moons in the medicine den when he was younger, sick. although his litter mates became warrior apprentices, which is what he had always wanted but feared to be because of his parents missions and his own insecurities, he felt a bit of bitterness when they were introduced to their mentors, but as he went to the medicine cat's den, he decided to try his best. at least he could make himself proud, and not just his parents. he knew he had let his father down, but there was nothing that he could do to change that.

from the moment he went from a 'kit' to a 'paw' everything changed. now he was expected to get up before the sun rose and go out in the forest and get herbs! that wasn't fair. wasn't being a medicine cat supposed to be some easy, tedious life to lead? he hadn't expected so many chores, so much time spent memorizing all the stupid herbs and their stupid uses. he got irritated quickly and had a very hard time remember herbs that had almost the same use, but had one small, but very vital, difference. cats were relieved when he wasn't the one giving out their herbs and poultices. his mentor was very patient with him, however, and taught him the best he could, and over time, over several moons, roanpaw had almost as great a memory for herbs as any other medicine cat. perhaps he could make something out of his life as a medicine cat after all.

there was one thing in his life that stood out and made him proud. he could share dreams with starclan. the idea excited him and he was happy to go to the moonstone every quarter moon, meeting his ancestors, getting to know them, and in turn, learning things that would help his 'career' of a medicine cat and his view of the world. starclan taught him empathy, and his experiences in life just added to that gift, and soon, he began to value it as an actual gift. though sometimes it could be a burden, for understanding someone's pain in a way that he could almost feel was something that tempered with his duty as medicine cat apprentice and made him struggle. one day he asked his mentor if he would ever be able to get over his anxiousness. it's a gift. use it to make you a better medicine cat. he would.

he respected his mentor and loved him more than than the average cat did their warrior mentor. why? because he spent day in and day out with the cat and they became like father and son. the father he would never have had. not just because his father was never around to see him or even praise his son, or tell him he was proud of him, but because the great warrior perished at the time roanpaw reached 14 moons. the gentle tom took it hard, not exactly because the tom was his father, because in his heart he feared dying and he felt that fear and that pain that his father must have felt before he had died, killed by a warrior's blow. honourable, but the clan would have forgotten him in the moons to come. like he never existed. after his real father's death he took even closer to his mentor, mostly because the tom understood him and guided him.

all roanpaw had ever needed was guidance. his mentor was the only one to have given it to him.

then there was the night he was brought to the moonstone. it wasn't like any other quarter moon meeting. all the medicine cats were looking at him in anticipation. he couldn't understand why; he had never dreamed of anything like this happening. he returned to camp a full medicine cat, as roanfur, he had boasted to his litter mates with pride. so they had shown him up in everything including hunting and fighting, but he was the medicine cat, and he could go where they would never dream. he could go beyond the waking world to the place of the deceased one's dreams, to the place where it all began for his clan and the three others. to the forest where starclan announced there would be four clans, and they would follow the warrior code, and live their lives with honour, not like barbarians as which they had been doing. that's what the stars were, and he had always dreamed of the stars as a kit.

his life had been nothing but a maze put in place for him to struggle through. his parents had never understood what he had wanted, what he had needed all of his life. they had ignored the most precious thing in their lives, their own sons will and wishes. then they had forgotten him, and perhaps it was out of his own father's disregard for his son's happiness, or perhaps it was out of shame that his son would take the easy life of a medicine cat instead of the honourable life of the warrior, laying waste to his father's pride. whatever the case, roanfur could never forget the look of defeat in his father's eyes when the warrior was drug back to camp. perhaps the life of a medicine cat wasn't so seemingly simple and easy as they thought. for it was the medicine cat who had to try desperately to save the lives of their clan mates and then, quite often, fail and watch as they died.

a warrior wouldn't understand such things. they only looked to what was right in front of them, not the spirits and lives of those around. roanfur could see these things, because his mentor and starclan had taught him too. it had saved his life many times. seasons went on, and many faces came and went. although others told him to just accept this as a fact of life, he could not. every life was sacred, and he couldn't just pluck them out of memory like feathers from a bird's carcass. they were his friends, his family. his mentor. the old tom died not many days after roanfur reached 39 moons. nature had grabbed a hold of him, and for many days roanfur lay beside his mentor, helping him, easing his mentor's path to starclan. it wasn't easy. being a hospice cat; being so nice and pretending everything was all right even as the truth of what was happening tore him apart from the inside. his mentor was going to leave him.

the death came to a great shock to the tom, unlike the other cats who just mourned his passing for only a few days and then walked away like nothing had ever happened. after all his mentor had done, didn't he deserve more respect. roanfur was amazed at his clan mate's callousness, their lack of understanding that everyone had feelings, not just them. everyone had fear and a hope to live. why couldn't they realize that? part of him knew the answer. they did realize that, but they would forget it to protect themselves from what lay after, to keep themselves from getting down because they had to keep living, so the clan would live. but was the clan all that important? perhaps not.

but there was no time to go back, not anymore. there was nothing worth going back to.

role-playroanfur waited, his fur rippling in response to the wind blowing across the top of the hollow. it was almost chilly, but also rather comforting. the wind soothed his worried thoughts and made him feel rather calm, allowing himself to 'chill out' in a way of saying. his clan mates were all gathered around him, and he watched their breathe billowing out around their anticipating muzzles. he could almost feel the excitement of the younger cats, the newcomers, apprentices, and the newly named warriors; it would be all of their first times at the gathering with their new names. he remembered what it felt like to be named a new cat. it was both exciting, but also nerve wracking when all the cats turned to stare at you like you grew a set of bunny ears. what was so amazing about what you were looking at that made you need to stare. roanfur thought to himself. i would do the same thing; stare. to remember them? a bit preoccupied with that thought, he was startled, just a little, when his clan mates flew about him like startled rabbits.

silverstar had signaled their arrival to the gathering. time to go, fluff-brain! he thought, shaking himself back in to the waking world and almost tripping over himself in his haste to not be left behind. he didn't want to be one of the few cats running in the back. just because he was undersized didn't mean he was slow. he realized, choosing to be a medicine cat hadn't exactly worked in his favour of opinions about him. perhaps i could change that, he thought, narrowing his eyes. by the time he reached the bottom, he wasn't yet winded, but as soon as he turned he spotted a new apprentice staring up at him in bewilderment. he doesn't know what to do, roanfur guessed. "why don't you go introduce yourself to the other apprentices. you'll settle in and boast in no time," as soon as he spoke he found himself winded and breathed hard, trying to keep himself from doubling over and crouching down in an effort to regain himself.

it always worked that way. in the middle of public he had a sudden loss of breathe; well, who didn't get winded after running and then speaking? he shook himself, relieved as the apprentice nodded, not noticing roanfur's slight dilemma, and padded off in the direction he had pointed his tail in. a bunch of riverclan and windclan apprentices were their. typically, shadowclan was off on their own little corner probably snickering at the other apprentice's being 'dumb' because they weren't over in shadowclan's special corner. roanfur's whiskers twitched and he turned his head, searching for someone to talk to. he spotted the other medicine cats, but wasn't going to head over until he saw one of them waving his tail frantically at him, calling him over.

startled by the urgency of the windclan medicine cat, he padded up to them, his tail raising in a hardly suppressed greeting. he didn't have time for words. they were all talking and he was struggling to keep up. as usual. welcome to the world of being the newest medicine cat.

"did they talk to you?"

he jolted awake, his muscles stiff, his body cold. had he been imagining it the entire time? he hadn't realized till now that his clan mates had just been blurs, and the cats he had spoken to had not been real. there was no new male that hadn't been to their first gathering yet. he shook his head. that tom was me he realized, remembering yet again his first gathering. he had been in a memory. what kind of dream was that? not a starclan one, for sure.

"roanfur! what did starclan tell you?" he lifted his head up sleepily, still stiffly settled on the cold floor.

"i didn't dream," he sounded puzzled, staring at the other medicine cats in surprise. what in starclan's name were they talking about? he stood. "what's going on?"

he listened in surprise and rather jealously as they spoke of their dreams. they were all the same, all from starclan, and he hadn't received one. wasn't he important enough to receive a dream? was starclan angry at him, upset with him and didn't send him it? it must be important if three medicine cats had received it. why hadn't he gotten it? his claws scraped the stone in frustration and annoyance. he suddenly felt the need to turn his back and walk off. of course he wasn't welcome here.

why am i whining like a kit? stop being selfish! he thought to himself, still feeling disgruntled, but refusing to ignore them. perhaps it was a test for him to be a good medicine cat. perhaps his mentor was testing him. his tail twitched in grief at the memory of his mentor, but he reminded himself to focus on what was happening now. he always did.

though he remained calm as they explained the dream, he still felt that overwhelming sense that he didn't belong. i'm a medicine cat too. why do you avoid me? he thought, staring hard at the stone...

other nope