Midnight
RP Mod 
ThunderClan Mod
when i see you now ; i pray the stars will change
Posts: 11
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Post by Midnight on Mar 30, 2012 21:18:26 GMT -5
 Name:
Midnightkit - Midnightpaw - Midnightfang - Midnightstar
Gender:
Tom
Age:
40 Moons
Clan/ Group:
ThunderClan
Postion:
Leader
Description:
Strong, black tom with bright yellow eyes.
Personality:
Midnightstar is tenacious and ambitious, in all good senses of those words. He is very set on what he thinks, and he’ll definitely be giving his opinions where he thinks they need to be given. Despite his steadfast opinions and suggestions, he is willing to listen to others but would much more like to expand on their input with his own. You could lead Midnightstar to water, but making him drink is a whole different concept. As far as his ambitions go, he believes firmly that he can do anything he sets his mind to, earning him many scars and plenty of reprimanding in the past. From kit to leader he has continuously pushed himself to his limits: exerting himself in training, exhausting himself by hunting far more than he was required, single-handedly doing tasks that are meant for at least two. While this may seem a waste of energy, Midnightstar believes he could always do better. This behavior was most likely instilled at a very young age, when he was still a kit, trying to prove that just because his origins were unknown, didn’t mean he wasn’t as good as those born within the Clan.
Ever since he was small, Midnightstar has always had a fantastic yearning for adventure. Although being Clan leader has somewhat slowed his chance on going on adventures down considerably, it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t like to jump on the chance of a journey or mission. He may know every inch of ThunderClan territory, but that doesn’t stop him from slipping out and exploring, trying to find a grand new hunting spot or the nicest tree to sharpen his claws on. He savors his journey to Highstones in his memories and treasures it deeply, wishing he could experience the tingling anticipation and bitter travel herbs and the shocking cold of the Moonstone against his nose once more. Someday he hopes he has an excuse to return and speak to the warrior ancestors once more.
Midnightstar is fiercely loyal to ThunderClan. He cares for each of his Clanmates and thanks StarClan every day for their unity. If any cat were to doubt his devotion to the Clan then they obviously do not know him that well. He enforces the Warrior Code and reminds his Clan that without the tenets of their Code, the very structure and order as they knew it would fall apart. He is keen on keeping his Clan in line, though there are times for play just as there are times for no play. He has no problem with taking a break from his duties to simply sunbathe with his warriors or the apprentices, or play with the kits in the nursery or visit the elders to listen to their stories. Being loyal and a great leader does not only mean rules and discipline; he believes being a good Clan leader also means incorporating yourself within your Clan. The Clan would always be his family as well as his warriors.
When in solitude, Midnightstar is often found to be quite reflective. He reviews the day when he curls up in his nest once it is time to sleep, being equally organized as well. He thinks a lot and wonders. He never has any doubts where he belongs or who he is because he has worked very hard over the seasons of his life finding his calling. Now that he is a leader, he knows that ThunderClan forever be his home and his top priority. He doesn’t find the time to worry over where he really came from, only that ThunderClan took him in and gave him a life, a purpose, and he is forever grateful for that and the cats who helped him get to where he is now. Sometimes, on a somber night he’ll recall his old, dead mate, Desertheart. But what was special was that he got to see her once again when he received his nine lives. Her memory, no memory would not hold him back, but only strengthens him. He has learned that moving on and acceptance is a key when being a good leader as well.
Family:
Nightpelt - father - location unknown
Beatrice - mother - deceased
Desertheart - mate - deceased
History:
Prior to the birth of Midnightkit, a young warrior named Nightpelt was a Clanner of ThunderClan. He had fine, ebony fur and a pluming tail. His eyes were a pleasant light green that were always shining proudly. One lone patrol he came across a she-loner eating a small bird. He had attacked her at first, but as they were both out of breath and panting with effort, Nightpelt had laughed at how well she fought. Her name was Beatrice. She was a cute little black and white she-cat with playful amber eyes. Nightpelt thought she was quite charming for a loner. Being the good warrior he was, he told her that he would let her go this time. To which she had only snorted and tromped off.
The following suns, Nightpelt went about his business, and it wasn’t until that he caught a familiar scent that he remembered the she-loner from before. There she was in the bushes, staring down a potential kill. Nightpelt had interrupted her with a low growl that made her jump, the prey spooking and her meal lost. She was thoroughly annoyed as he confronted her and what she was doing in ThunderClan territory. But she was so very stubborn, Nightpelt becoming quite frustrated with her indignant nature. Beatrice made him an offer. That she would come to the border of ThunderClan every half moon, and she would ask for permission to hunt with him. He had contemplated this plan day and night afterwards, and finally seeing her again he told her he would agree; despite it going against the Warrior Code and his Clan.
For nearly twelve moons worth of half moons they spent their secret outings together. The two becoming all the more tolerant of each other as their days together lengthened. Beatrice became more and more friendly, her true, attractive personality making Nightpelt’s belly churn excitedly each of their meetings. She found him to be handsome and charismatic, and at first, the tom thought the feelings were one-sided until she told him of this. At this news though he did not meet her the next half moon or the next. But on the third when he returned with newly awakened courage to return the feelings she was not there. He cursed himself many times for being foolish and letting his head get in the way of his heart.
Then she came to him out of nowhere, and they nuzzled and touched noses at seeing each other. Nightpelt told her of his misgivings but, regardless, he wanted to be together with her. Of course, they had to keep their relationship in secret; meeting on unclaimed territory, hiding Beatrice from other warriors when they spotted Nightpelt. Everything had to be kept under wraps or else he knew he would have to choose which life he wanted more. There came a day when Beatrice came to him shyly, almost shamefully to tell him that she was to bear him a litter. Nightpelt, though he knew the risks of taking a mate, did not expect this and was shocked that he was going to be a father. But, he vowed to Beatrice that he would protect her and their young.
At the time of her kitting, Nightpelt stole herbs from the medicine cat and brought them to his mate for he had subtly asked the said cat what herbs were best for a pregnant she-cat because he was “just curious”. Beatrice had stayed hidden away in an abandoned badger set deep in the heart of ThunderClan’s forest. Nightpelt, StarClan bless him, did everything he could to make the birthing process painless and safe. Yes, he successfully helped his mate deliver three kits but two were still-born, leaving one little black one in their midst. Beatrice was weak from the birthing and Nightpelt suggested she stay in ThunderClan territory, assuring her hardly a soul wandered this far.
So she did and his word was true, nobody cared to follow a scent that was cleverly masked by Nightpelt marking around the hiding place so dutifully. Midnightstar had no name at the time, but he grew to be strong and healthy. The little food Nightpelt brought to her gave Beatrice enough nutrients to feed their kit, but the little one refused to stay still half the time and would waste his energy to take form Beatrice’s body the milk she supplied. Beatrice had been very young for her first kitting and was beginning to grow weak. Nightpelt began to bring herbs again, but the medicine cat took suspicion so he had to stop. Beatrice’s health slowly drained, but she demanded that Nightpelt do all he could to feed her so that their offspring could have proper nourishment.
Beatrice died one night from being so weak. Midnightstar wasn’t sure what was going on, only that his mother was very hard to wake up. As Nightpelt came upon his mate and his kit curled up together in sleep. He did not realize what had happened until he moved to press his nose into her warm fur. It was cold and her body was limp. Nightpelt had gaped in horror and choked on a mournful cry, not wanting to wake Midnightstar until he had composed himself. The warrior woke his kit once he had, telling him that they were going on an adventure but not to wake his mother. So, he carried Midnightstar away from dead Beatrice and his old home with a horrible feeling in his gut, slinking into a secret entry way of ThunderClan camp where he proceeded to sneak into the nursery, knowing no queens were kitting at the time so it would be empty. There he left his son, telling him he would return with his mother, but Midnightkit never saw his father again after that night.
When morning came, Midnightstar was afraid, for he heard the smells and sounds of not just one cat but many. Frightfully, he trembled and tried to bury himself beneath the nests within the warm den, faithful and determined that his father would come with his mother as well. But a cat appeared in the entrance that was neither of his parents. After attempting to get Midnightstar to speak for himself without success, the cat called another cat to speak to the kit who coaxed a few words from him. Midnightstar was determined that his father was coming back for him and wouldn’t believe otherwise. The cat, the current leader of ThunderClan at the time, convinced Midnightstar that his father was never coming back, but that they could take care of him instead. Extremely reluctant and defeated, Midnightstar agreed and was thus introduced to the Clan and its ways as Midnightkit.
Midnightkit was old enough to be apprenticed within four moons, a ceremony was held for him for when he became Midnightpaw. He was taken into training by his new mentor, Sweetwhisker, a well-seasoned she-warrior who was more than happy to have him. He found Sweetwhisker to be extremely adept at tracking and hunting in particular, but when they had battle-training, she was nowhere near a letdown. She passed these traits onto Midnightpaw, and he was a very receptive learner. But as always, there were times where he was unruly and would be sent to the Elders’ den to pick at their ticks and change their bedding. And sometimes when he spent times alone, dragging a piece of fresh-kill to eat, failing to find someone to enjoy his meal with, he thought about how he would never truly belong to ThunderClan. No one would tell him where he came from, or maybe they just hadn’t known. Either way, when Midnightpaw was left to fester with these thoughts, he often became sad.
He met Desertpaw when he was ten moons old. She was a brand new apprentice, and she was wonderful. Well, he didn’t exactly talk to her at first, but she was the only one to approach him, the others staying away, and Midnightpaw blamed that on his unknown origins. But finally, it seemed as though someone other than his mentor gave a mouse’s tail about him. The two became fast friends, playing together whenever they were not training, and they even moved their nests next to each other within the apprentices’ den. Once they were even caught sharing tongues and were teased endlessly by the other apprentices. Midnightpaw, embarrassed, stopped talking to Desertpaw for a brief time, but finally the two realized there was no harm in the well-practiced ritual and resumed their friendship.
Impressed with his progress, Sweetwhisker even asked their leader if he would personally be present for Midnightpaw’s final assessment. Though nervous by this announcement, Midnightpaw did the best he could, catching three mice, a finch, and he even chased a squirrel up a tree flawlessly and returned with said prey clamped into his jaws. The leader congratulated him heartily and assured Midnightpaw that his time to be a warrior would come soon; he needn’t worry. Pride swelled in him like a queen’s belly does when she is swollen with kits. He immediately told Desertpaw of his success, and she seemed enthralled by the news, giving him a shy lick on the cheek in response. The two had an almost awkward moment between them at that point, realizing that maybe they liked and appreciated each other as more than just friends. But Midnightpaw had excused himself at the very moment; he didn’t have time to think of she-cats in that way when he was about to become a warrior!
On a patrol with Sweetwhisker, an older warrior named Redglare, Desertpaw and her mentor, Butterflychase, they encountered Midnightpaw’s first, real threat: an invading ShadowClan patrol. Desertpaw spotted them slinking through the shadows, their musky and dark scent wafting towards them on a favorable breeze. It was Redglare who confronted the ShadowClanners, questioning why they had any reason to cross the border. Before the leader of the patrol could reply, one of the ShadowClan warriors lunged forward without warning, slicing Redglare wide open with deadly claws. And so a fight began. Midnightpaw instinctively pressed close to Desertpaw, and side by side, the two apprentices took on two of the warriors, using tactics their mentors had taught them time and time again. They made a fearsome duo, confusing the two ShadowClanners more than injuring them.
After intense claw swipes and caterwauling, the battle began to disperse and one by one the ShadowClan warriors fled back towards their territory. Butterflychase and Sweetwhisker instructed the apprentices to aide Redglare back to camp before giving chase to the ShadowClanners to make sure they crossed over their border and didn’t look back. With injured Redglare in tow, Midnightpaw and Desertpaw arrived at camp, lifting their heads proudly, displaying any scrapes and tufts of missing fur proudly. As the leader bounded forward in alarm, Midnightpaw hurriedly relayed the story, nudging Redglare over to the medicine cat as he mewed. The leader congratulated them both, especially Midnightpaw, promising that his warrior ceremony was going to be held when his mentor returned.
Finally, after what seemed like ages of getting poultices rubbed on his wounds and getting help cleaning his pelt from Desertpaw, Sweetwhisker and Butterflychase returned, and the leader called the Clan to the Sky Vine. Quivering with excitement, Midnightpaw stepped forward to receive his new warrior name, Midnightfang. Despite all the heavy sense of not belonging weighing on his shoulders that had continued to plague him, Midnightfang could not help feel as true as any of the other warriors of ThunderClan. He held his vigil as silent and as true as any other ThunderClan warrior would have, and as he looked onto the swath of stars of Silverpelt, he realized no matter where he had come from, this would be his home forever.
The entry moons into his warriorhood were pretty relaxing. He could now hunt on his own without being questioned, and he was one of the first to be called for patrols and scent-marking. Even late night watches over the camp were enjoyable to him. Midnightfang became respected amongst his peers and many apprentices lacking a mentor were anxious to who would receive him. Finally, one day the leader called them to assemble and began distributing the newest litter amongst the warriors. Midnightfang earned his first apprentice, Birchpaw, that day. Birchpaw was a tad rebellious at first, but as their training sessions increased, they seemed to come closer to each other. Sharing a kind of bond like he and Sweetwhisker had. He was very content with being a mentor and couldn’t wait to train more apprentices after his first; he knew he had much to offer to the young cats of ThunderClan as far as his skills were concerned.
Midnightfang even got to see Desertpaw become Desertheart. And at the ceremony, he realized what a beautiful she-cat she had grown to be. With her odd tabby markings mapping her brown pelt, and her green eyes shining as she approached the Sky Vine that sunhigh was definitely enough to get his attention. After all, ever since he had received Birchpaw, he hadn’t really gotten to see her all that often. Flopping down to share tongues with his old denmate and friend one day, he was about to confess that he would have liked to be her mate, but that was when he beat him to it. Laughing together, they simply bathed in sunlight the remainder of the day, content that their feelings were returned to one another.
It was when a newleaf storm savaged the Clans that ThunderClan was home to several tragedies including the deputy and Desertheart. Fierce lightning had set the camp on fire, and while the majority of the Clan escaped, their deputy and Desertheart were both lost in the hot flames. Midnightfang was in shock, but his grief was immediately stunted when the leader declared that he would become the new deputy. He pushed thoughts of Desertheart away because it was for the good of the Clan that he wasn’t in prolonged grieving. Sadness for his lost mate would have to wait. The current leader was on his seventh life at the time, and Midnightfang knew, with a heavy burden settling in the pit of his chest like a rock, that it would not be long before he would have to accept the responsibility himself.
Between the demanding duties of deputyship and the pressure of trying to keep his grief pushed far back, Midnightfang found it hard to keep consistent with Birchpaw’s training. But he was determined to make his Clan proud by seeing it through, so he finally held his apprentice’s final assessment. Birchpaw passed, of course; after all, Midnightfang had certainly taught him well. He proudly watched his first apprentice receive the warrior name, Birchclaw. It was nearing leafbare when Midnightfang received his second apprentice, but she did not last very long under his care. Not because of ability issues, but she soon discovered her calling as a medicine cat apprentice instead. He ushered her towards that destiny, of course, happy that she had found where she truly belonged. He knew how it felt not to belong at any rate. In the hard season, their leader fell ill. Midnightfang saw him through to the very last notch when the last of his nine lives passed through his body. Naturally, but solemnly, Midnightfang took a warrior, who happened to be his Sweetwhisker, with him to the Moonfall so he could receive his own nine lives. Midnightfang became Midnightstar.
RolePlay Sample:
A small, black kit rustled in its sleep. Blue eyes that were already fading to green and would eventually fade to yellow opened and scanned the inside of the darkened den. Being young, seeing in pure darkness that the nighttime brought to their sleeping pace was still difficult, but he could faintly make out his mother’s white form. From what he could make out, she was sleeping still and peaceful. He blinked and pawed at her soft belly, craning his neck forward to latch on and receive her warm milk. As he suckled nothing happened, and he drew back, tilting his head curiously. But she was asleep, and he did not want to wake her. So, he curled up beside her strangely lukewarm body and thought nothing more of it, drifting back into slumber.
Outside, a warrior came to the abandoned badger set, looking left and right before ducking in. He found his mate and son sleeping together without disturbance. Nightpelt smiled gently at the sight and came forward, burying his nose into the fur of Beatrice’s slender neck. His eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat, taken aback by how stiff and cool she felt. She was dead. The tomcat stifled a cry that built up in his chest, baring his teeth in a manner of trying to control himself and ducking back out of the badger set. His mate was dead. The she-loner he had grown to love despite all their differences was gone. He paced outside fitfully, his stomach twisting into sickened knots as the realization slowly inched beneath his skin.
Finally, as collected as he could be, he returned to his kit who was sitting up now, looking up at him with such innocent eyes. Nightpelt smiled down at him, and even though the kit could not fathom the emotion, the smile was hurt and broken. “Come, let’s have an adventure.” The warrior told his son, nudging the small feline with his muzzle.
The black kit yawned, its tiny jaws opening to reveal a small pink tongue. “But it’s nighttime. Mama says it’s bad to be outside.” He replied.
Nightpelt’s smile faltered, giving his offspring a gentle push. “Your mother told me she wanted me to take you somewhere special, little one, so let’s go.” He tried to sound as eager as possible, and his son perked up in response. He ushered the small cat out of the badger set, just outside its entrance he told him, “say goodbye to your mother.”
The kit looked down into the badger set with his little tail quivering excitedly. “Bye, Mama, we’ll be back soon. I love you!” He called, much too raring to go to notice his father’s grief-stricken face at his words.
Nightpelt took the kit in his jaws and together they went, breezing through the forest of ThunderClan’s territory, unbeknownst to his son. He flanked the camp from the side, Nightpelt knowing of a secret back entrance into the nursery used when the Clan was under attack. He squeezed into the tight space, emerging into the den that was empty because there were currently no queens inside. He looked down at his son sadly in the darkness who was eagerly awaiting the next step to their adventure.
“What’s next?” The kit asked, pawing at the ground.
Nightpelt felt a heaviness settle in his chest, his tail drooping slightly, but he put on a smile for his little one. “I’m going to go get your mother so she can come with us, okay? I’ll be back.” He told him.
The small one looked uncertain and his ears twitched. “But, what… what if I get scared?”
The warrior leaned forward and touched his midnight-colored kit’s forehead with his nose, right between his little ears. “I promise I will return soon. If you are frightened just think of me and your mother,” he paused to gently touch his paw briefly to his son’s small chest, “because we will always be right with you.” Nightpelt licked his forehead and smiled though his heart ached. So, with the little black kit reassured he left him there in the nursery as the kit watched his father disappear through the hole he had came in through. |
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poor silverheart X(