Owlpaw of WindClan

[STREAKZ]

NAME! Owlpaw
AGE! 10 moons
RANK! medicine cat apprentice
GENDER! male / infertile
CLAN! Wind
SHORT DESC.! bi-colored gray and white tabby tom with a strange scent

FULL DESCRIPTION!

pictured here Like most WindClan cats, Owlpaw tends to be built with narrow shoulders. He's got smaller paws than some cats, though he is remarkably well-balanced when bothered to be standing on them. He isn’t a very intimidating cat by stature, if anything he’s relatively average when it comes to height and tail-length. Not that it is very easy to tell, with this particular tom being the way he is.

With a small head that tapers to a narrow muzzle, the largest feature on Owlpaw are his large eyes – which are, consequently, a stunning shade of green. The ears atop his head are rather wide though certainly not remarkably tall, and many cats will notice his face is otherwise unmarked by the scars that mar a warrior’s pelt. His nose is pink in color.

As far as physical build goes, Owlpaw has a bit of a belly swinging down there – he’s certainly not fat, he’s just a tad softer around the edges than what most clancats would be expected to be. He believes he carries this weight rather well, and would be quick to point out that he doesn’t run around pretending to bludgeon others with his claws all day and all night if a cat were to point it out.

His face, chest, paws and belly are all bright white. These he keeps in the utmost pristine conditions, for if Owlpaw is anything at all he is cleanly. The white of his shortpelt is offset by a dark gray tabby fur – though in the wrong lighting he certainly looks more as if he’s colored brown. Owlpaw’s gray pelt is riddled with darker gray stripes, and it rings even his slender tail.

As aforementioned he keeps his pelt in pristine order, nary a whisker seems to be out of place when it comes to Owlpaw and he likes to keep it that way. The tomcat has an odd habit of trying to “add” to himself, with strange nicknacks and other things that he finds – mostly by attempting to wear them in some strange fashion.

Owlpaw’s voice and manner of speech tend to lean on the slow and plodding side. He tends to speak with a slur, as though constantly half-asleep, unless he’s rather excited about something. Much of what he says is often punctuated by a yawn. In tone his meow tends to be on the very low side, which can actually make him rather intimidating should he choose to raise his voice.

Due to a rather unfortunate mishap he had when he was a young apprentice, Owlpaw is infertile – which is to say he’s been neutered. As such he can run on the less-than-energetic side, when in comparison to many Clan-cats and tends to have an odd scent to him as well (he can sometimes be mistaken as a female due to this).

PERSONALITY!

Intelligence is Owlpaw’s game – he’s a cat that loves to learn and is good at remembering what it is he has learned. Memorization comes relatively easily to Owlpaw, and he’s quicker to use brains rather than tooth or claw. He’s a smart cat, in that he dislikes holding himself to the conformities expected of him. He likes to explore, to try new and different things. This doesn’t always result in a positive, thank you very much, but that certainly doesn’t mean he’s quite sated by it.

Thinking things through is his specialty though, he’s a cat that likes to think he sees the bigger picture and boy will he let you know about it. Though normally a rather quiet and distant cat, when it comes to showing off his mind Owlpaw here is not to be outdone. He’s seen and done things that most Clan cats haven’t gotten the chance to do, so there’s always that under his belt.

Relatively unfazed by the rest of the world, Owlpaw meets most things with a sleepy sort of calm. In fact he rarely comes off as flustered or annoyed. Rather, he speaks to others in a slow and tiresome manner as though he cares little about what is going on around him. In fact, Owlpaw tends to be above-minded when it comes to most anything? What’s that? Bleeding out of your throat, yawn, come to the back of the den then we’ll see if we can patch you up before you keel over then.

Despite this Owlpaw grows bored rather easily – if he has nothing to do he becomes irritable and cranky or will simply sleep throughout the day. He’s a cat that enjoys to exercise his mind, something that confounds or puzzles him pleases him greatly if only because that means that he gets to work on something hard. In this manner it can seem like he would be the sort of cat that would rather be busy at every waking moment, however…

Owlpaw dislikes work as a whole. When he has a lot of work he can often be found swindling an apprentice or two to getting the job done for him. It’s strange how a cat that complains about how there’s nothing to do in the Clan would be so difficult to actually get moving. Ah and will he complain about it when he gets going, be it about how much his poor paws are hurting or about how he can’t believe the amount of responsibility weighing on his shoulders is, Owlpaw is going to whine and complain whenever he has the chance.

Oddly enough though, he actually rather enjoys his job and status as Medicine Cat Apprentice. Give him the time to care for others every day over fighting tooth and nail anytime – and this isn’t simply because he finds it easier by any means. Owlpaw is a non-violent cat by nature, rather leaning toward his herbs and the comfort of his den than to spend his time sharpening his claws.

His passion for his work is stemmed by his love of his Clan-mates – being a relatively mellow cat, it takes quite a bit to get Owlpaw to hate you. He seems willing to open any patient to his nest with open paws, indeed he greets and treats company with his slow smile and a steady amount of friendship. When it comes to the health and safety of others he is strongwilled and stubborn – he will not give up on a patient until they’ve breathed their final breaths, and he struggles to find ways to not stop even after that.

Yes, Owlpaw longs to revolutionize the medicine cat world. Come up with new methods of healing that work better, make cats stronger, live longer – this is his goal. Though certainly outwardly calm when dealing with his patients, he gets really quite excited – this is nearly impossible to tell, unless one asks him about it.

When excited Owlpaw seems to transform into a different cat entirely. Far from the rather slow and sleepy acting tom, he changes into a chattering, excitable young cat ready to rant and rave and boast about his latest idea. The mind, he believes with all of his heart, is a cat’s most precious weapon, bah to those fangs and claws. He could do more with thinking than a cat could hope to do with their teeth any day!

It is when he gets excitable that he can tend to be a bit of a problem. Get an idea in Owlpaw’s head and one can have a hard time getting him to leave it. If he thinks going to Twoleg-Place will give him something to cure his cats with, then StarClan help him he’ll waltz right in there. Hell he’d pluck the fangs out of a dog’s mouth if he thought they might have healing properties.

In fact if he thinks it’ll have any learning value at all he can have a tendency to wander – while rather intelligent, Owlpaw seems to have a difficult time thinking of the longterm. He’s flighty as all get out and prone to wandering off and just disappearing to go off on some rather exciting adventure – as aforementioned he does often get bored in the camp after all.

Quirky and a bit strange, Owlpaw is always trying out new and different things to set himself apart from the rest of his Clan. He does love them, yes, but he doesn’t want to fall in line with every single one of them. There are whispers, to be sure, that he does this because of his odd scrape with twolegs when he was an apprentice, but he tends to… wear objects. One might find him with an oakleaf attached to his forehead with a bit of mud, or with a daisy painstakingly twisted into his fur. He’s even gone so far as to carry about a cumbersome rock between his shoulders for an entire day, walking very carefully so as to keep it from falling.

Twolegs, far from terrifying him as they possibly should, fascinate him. He feels a strong and near irresistible pull toward them, and tends to have dreams about joining them and curling up at their feet. This embarrasses him very much, and does, in fact, frighten him a bit while also making him feel rather weak. Though he finds them interesting, when Twolegs are brought up he’s quick to change the subject, not that any cat would blame him even if they were unaware of his secret longing to live with them.

Owlpaw is, finally, an incredibly tidy cat. He’s a nervous cleaner, to be honest with you. Though he seems calm and unfazed Owlpaw has a lot to mull over in that mind of his, and as such tends to clean, clean, clean or organize, organize, organize constantly. He can get a bit irritable about the state of his coat, and will become severely annoyed if he’s been cleaning it only to have some other cat muss it up in some way.

HISTORY!

As far as kithood went, Owlpaw’s was no different than any other Clan-cat’s. He was born in WindClan, to the warm belly of his mother with the comforting pelts of his brother’s and sister’s at his side. There was nothing so extraordinary about that, nor was there anything extraordinary about his parents. A humble she-cat named Dustytail and a brave warrior named Smokebite, nothing out of the ordinary. No strange romances, in fact their’s was a rather simple love born out of moons and moons of close friendship. A regular childhood was set up for young Owl from the very beginning, no cat would expect anything different.

Play went as play went with kits, hindered only by rules of safety and common sense. To be honest, as a kit Owlpaw was always rather rambunctious. Adventurous, rash, and far too curious for his own good. He was the kit sticking his nose into the bee’s nest – ah there is a mildly interesting story. As a young kit he stuck his nose in a bee’s nest.

If any cat were to ask him about it now, he’d simply say, “Yeah don’t just stick your nose in a bee’s nest.” It was not a smart thing to do, and resulted in him getting rather stung up – luckily he escaped with only a few stings, and the medicine cat was certainly able to care for them just fine. Was this the moment he discovered he wanted to be a medicine cat though? …No, not in the least.

The moons slipped by, with the younger version of Owlpaw only too willing to get himself in trouble. He was no stranger to the medicine cat den, his antics kept him in there most of the time. In fact, due to his troublemaking his apprenticeship was put off for another moon (much to his horrified dismay). Still, that day came as it always comes (well when a kit survives), and he became a ‘paw.

It took him literally two days to get in more trouble than his mentor, parents, and family could ever expect from him. The adventurous apprentice wandered off, out of Clan territory, only to get horrifically lost and find himself in the welcoming arms of a family of Twolegs – well, they thought they were being helpful. Owlpaw, at the time, rather felt as though he’d been catnapped.

Now when a person finds a kitten, particularly a hungry lost kitten that has no owner, they are obliged to keep it. And keep it they tried to do, but Owlpaw was – as mentioned previous – a rambunctious and wild young cat. He would not settle down, and would not cease his efforts to escape.

So it was of little surprise, really, that they took him to the cutter. Owlpaw knew nothing of the stories kittypets told one another, and he himself now doesn’t fully understand what happened. All he knows is that he went in as a tom, and he came out as… well, not quite a tom anymore. He’d been cut, as the cutter so aptly was named for, and he would never quite be the same again.

It was while the family was taking him home after this awful fiasco that the young cat managed to escape. He ran, or tried to run as he was rather drugged up on the medicines that the Twolegs had in use. Somehow though, he has a difficult time recalling the exact method, he ended up back at home. Smelling strangely of Twolegs, of the surgical places, and the drugs they’d giving him. Missing what had made him a tom in the first place, but still home in WindClan.

It took a long time for him to recover, and many cats would argue that he hadn’t. He spent more time in the Medicine Cat’s den than before, and as he did this he grew to realize that fighting seemed strangely inappropriate. To fight was to be afraid, and he’d had quite enough of fear after his endeavor.

So he started to learn. He exercised his mind and he learned of herbs and healing. As he grew stronger after his unfortunate surgery he found himself less distracted than most toms would be by females, and more into the work at hand – ah but he put on weight easier than other cats, and he was undeniably softer than his brethren. The Twoleg world had touched him in a way that changed him for forever.

Ah but it wasn’t all bad. They opened his mind after all, he’d argue. And he knew, somehow, that they had stronger medicines than he. They had changed him with that medicine after all, and part of him… missed it. He felt it calling to him, perhaps because he was aware the it would be less of a struggle. For a cat such as him, who was soft around the stomach and different from his fellow Clan-mates, Owlpaw wanted more.

He watched cats slip away despite all the methods that were tried to heal them. He wanted, with all his heart, for them to be able to do more. To use more, and the tomcat decided that that was what he’d do. No matter what it would take, he would find ways that no cat ever even dreamed of to take care of his Clan. He’d keep them alive, even if it meant he worked until his paws bled – and that was a pretty big thing, coming from a lazy cat like him.

RP EXAMPLE!

The young man that took center stage next was not a Coordinator -- hell he wouldn't know what a Coordinator was if you asked him that. He'd certainly pretend as though he did. There'd be a lot of hooplah and huffing and hawing and he'd do his best to get you to spill the beans yourself. Because he was secretly clever like that, or at the very least he fancied he was clever like that. Which really had to count for something hm?

So it was that Leopold Mason took the stage with nary an experience in the way of Coordinating. Perhaps this would serve him well, dumb luck and all that. If he had such dumb luck, perhaps the judges would think the entire thing they were to soon witness was a comedy routine. As it were, he bowed at his waist, "Well, well we've come to the best part of the evening. I know, I know, you're all very excited. There's some grand things in store for you don't worry."

Leopold was, of course, lying. Or not really lying, so much as assuming that his greatness would simply rise to the occasion. "Now I can assume that you've all had a time in your life when you were young and innocent. Well my darling little Florence is going to remind you just what that was once like."

There was a flick of his wrist then, and his Pokeball was tossed up in the air before it burst open with an audible pop and his Delibird Florence was deposited nearly unceremoniously in front of his trainer. The old bird opened his mouth to say something, spotted the judges and blinked at them. ("What did you do?") The bird growled. Leopold waved him off, ignoring the little outburst.

"Florence I've seen you play with snow before." Leopold said thoughtfully, stooping to his bird's level, though his attention was on his adoring fans. He tossed a strand of hair over his shoulder and flashed a brilliant smile the way of the old Pokemon, "So show these charming people what you can do."

To Leopold's credit, and really to the surprise of the penguin before him (because it showed an intuitiveness that he had until this point been certain his trainer lacked) the blond had the good idea to dangle a shimmering gold coin from his wallet in front of his Pokemon. Be it an intentional bribery, or just something Leopold thought at the spur of the moment would be amusing, it at least seemed to work. Where there was one of those things, there were more right? He'd do anything for cash.

The penguin waddled forward -- Delibird was not a creature who's grace was something those marveled at. He had however, been originally intended for a Coordinator. The Delibird inhaled slightly, tipping his yellow beak up as his red and white chest filled with air. As he exhaled a gust of wind exploded from before him. The chilled air caused a small sparkle, ice crystals naturally forming from the moisture in the air around him. Florence craned his neck as he focused all his energy on gathering the icy particles into a fine group, before stopping and inhaling with a slight huff. Leopold held his hands out, eyes slightly triumphant as a fine dust of Delibird made "snow" drifted down around him.

"This reminds me of my old neighborhood Florence. Oh! I've got an idea." Leopold grinned, making a small ball with his hands. "How about you use your nifty little trick to make me a snow man hm?"

("Y'want me to make you a snowman.") Florence grumbled, but his flippers were up and he was forming a small ball of ice between his flippers. He rolled it against the powdery snow he'd made, and Leopold strutted around him as he moved quickly, making a third and fourth -- each bigger than the last.

"I used to make all the kids in my neighborhood make me snowmen. They really got quite good at it." Leopold smiled at his Delibird, stooping to push the ball slightly and help Florence along. "Of course I was best at it, without even trying."

Florence scowled slightly, managing to push the other two Ice Balls on top of the bigger one. The two largest remained at Leopold's feet. His trainer leaned an elbow on top of the structure, and Florence breathed a frigid blast of air onto it to fuse the balls together. The shimmering structure did indeed resemble a snowman, crystalline and shining before him. Leopold clapped with glee, "Oh Florence he's a handsome devil."

("You think so? I based him off of you.") Florence said, fake cheer instilled in his tone. He had done no such thing, though the thought tempted him to do something a bit unkind. He circled round, moving carefully, reaching into his bag and pulling out what appeared to be a present. He set it on one ball next to Leopold's feet, then set another on the one on his opposite side. The bird was snickering to himself slightly, bunching his muscles, ("In fact kid, I'm going to show you just what I think about you.")

In front of all these people, it'd be genius. Florence snickered, before making a tremendous leap that was powered by the ridiculous tutor move that his master had slapped on him. What he hadn't counted on was the fact that Leopold lunged for him nearly the last second, and the Delibird found himself with someone clinging to his tail-bag as he sprang high into the air. "Woo! Go Florence go! Show them how fabulous we are!"

These were the words that his trainer yelled into the arena. The leap into the air, and Leopold's moving had jarred the balls. One of the presents seated on top promptly exploded, the ice ball it sat on burst in a shower of what seemed to be glitter. The other toppled off and glimmered bright gold, lighting up the sphere but doing little more than that.

Oh, and during all of this gravity was kicking in. Florence tried to compensate for the added weight, inhaling deep again and blowing an Icy Wind at the ground if only to save himself and his idiot trainer from breaking their necks. The air helped a bit, enough for Leopold to land on his feet and stumble but at least not come to much harm. Florence, meanwhile, was being swung around by his master and let go so that he was hurtling straight for the snowman.

Made of pure ice.

He hissed, a flipper glowing bright red as he smashed through the structure and then landed. Ice flew in every direction, and Leopold stood behind the chaos standing and smiling as if nothing wrong had ever happened. Florence simply staggered to a stunned halt, seemed to realize he had nearly brained himself on an ice sculpture, and flopped back on his hind-end to stare at the audience. Leopold scooped him up, hugging him tight, "Yay! You're the best Florence, that was so much fun."

("This kid'll be the death of me.") The old Delibird rasped, waving a flipper at the crowd as a goodbye of sorts.

Did you purchase a trait for this character from the site store? Yes or no?:

no

[tails//]

Accepted! Please post in the WC allegiances!