Post by Moonshadow | Whitestar on Oct 19, 2006 18:48:30 GMT -5
History:
No one knew where Whitestar had come from. It was as if StarClan had scooped him up with a starry paw and dropped him in midair, for Whitestar, then Whitekit, had found his place in the Clan by falling out of nowhere atop a ThunderClan warrior patroling the once-safe borders. In fact, that seemed to be exactly the case. The former ThunderClan medicine cat, now retired, had recieved an omen from StarClan, foretelling the rise of a great leader that was not to be born of ThunderClan. Whitekit was raised by a kind and gentle queen, who unfortunately died in an attack from an enemy Clan. Soon after his foster mother's traumatic death, Whitekit was renamed Whitepaw as he became a ThunderClan apprentice.
Whitepaw spent many moons training under the watchful eye of his mentor, Pinepelt, learning to hunt and care for his Clan, but most importantly, fighting techniques. With prey so few and the Clans having to resort to frequent fights in order to survive, only a cat with exceptional fighting skills could even hope to survive among the Clans.
At last, Whitepaw was given the name of Whitefur the following leafbare, after a particularly violent border fight. Over the course of his twenty or so moons of warriorship, he trained two apprentices, both of whom became successful and respected warriors. He also became Clan deputy during the next leafbare, twelve moons after his warrior ceremony; the current leader, Sunstar, had lost his final life in battle, and the former deputy - Pinepelt, Whitefur's former mentor - had taken his place. Whitefur was surprised when the announcement was made, and also a bit nervous; in these harsh times, leaders were losing lives at an astonishing rate. His reign as duputy would surely not be long, and soon enough he would be the one in charge of ThunderClan. It was a great honor, and Whitefur was certainly not one to refuse such a glorious opportunity, but such a weight came with it! However, Whitefur knew that this was what he must do. He would protect the cats of ThunderClan with all of his soon-to-be nine lives!
At that time did, indeed, come just as quickly as Whitefur had expected. Pinestar lost eight of his nine lives in a frightening successsion of events, and his ninth and final life had been lost when he succumbed to starvation during a particularly prey-poor moon. Whitefur traveled to the Moonstone and rather nervously received his nine lives, becoming Whitestar. He led the Clan with a firm paw, putting much of his time and effort into attempting to secure the Clan's territory. Since that time, Whitestar had lost three of his nine lives in various raids and border fights. However, he remains strong for the good of his Clan, unwilling to show any sign of weakness or fear for the coming moons.
Roleplaying Example:
Whitestar silently stalked forward, his senses on high alert. Cats were nearby. Not ThunderClan cats, but WindClan cats. Whitestar lifted his head slightly as he put another careful paw forward, opening his mouth slightly to scent the air. Definitely WindClan cats, and quite a few of them. Three, at least, and heading this way. With a small hiss of annoyance, Whitestar narrowed his stunning amber eyes; prey was nearby, on WindClan territory, amazingly more plump that the average, run-of-the-mill mice lurking amid the trees; however, with these WindClan cats nearby, there was certainly no way for him to snatch it up before he was spotted. "What luck," he said to himself, his voice a low growl. "Great StarClan, cats are dying of starvation!" he continued, now addressing the starry warriors watching over the Clans. "The least you could do was hold off the patrol until I caught that rabbit! Do you want us all to die?"
Only silence answered Whitestar. The WindClan cats clearly hadn't heard him. With a jolt, he realized what he'd just done. How could he have spoken to StarClan that way? The lack of food must be going to his head. The white-furred leader backed off from the border slowly, meowing a quiet apology to StarClan. He would seek prey elsewhere.
But there was hardly any prey to be found. Whitestar returned with nothing to show for his effort except for a thin, half-sized vole. With a muffled sigh, he placed it on the meager stack of fresh-kill. Despite the lack of prey, ThunderClan was standing strong; however, Whitestar had a feeling that, sooner or later, the lack of decent food would bring more deaths than had ever yet been seen.
Whitestar turned, heading back to his cozy den in the side of the Highrock. He had to come up with a survival plan...or else ThunderClan was surely doomed.
No one knew where Whitestar had come from. It was as if StarClan had scooped him up with a starry paw and dropped him in midair, for Whitestar, then Whitekit, had found his place in the Clan by falling out of nowhere atop a ThunderClan warrior patroling the once-safe borders. In fact, that seemed to be exactly the case. The former ThunderClan medicine cat, now retired, had recieved an omen from StarClan, foretelling the rise of a great leader that was not to be born of ThunderClan. Whitekit was raised by a kind and gentle queen, who unfortunately died in an attack from an enemy Clan. Soon after his foster mother's traumatic death, Whitekit was renamed Whitepaw as he became a ThunderClan apprentice.
Whitepaw spent many moons training under the watchful eye of his mentor, Pinepelt, learning to hunt and care for his Clan, but most importantly, fighting techniques. With prey so few and the Clans having to resort to frequent fights in order to survive, only a cat with exceptional fighting skills could even hope to survive among the Clans.
At last, Whitepaw was given the name of Whitefur the following leafbare, after a particularly violent border fight. Over the course of his twenty or so moons of warriorship, he trained two apprentices, both of whom became successful and respected warriors. He also became Clan deputy during the next leafbare, twelve moons after his warrior ceremony; the current leader, Sunstar, had lost his final life in battle, and the former deputy - Pinepelt, Whitefur's former mentor - had taken his place. Whitefur was surprised when the announcement was made, and also a bit nervous; in these harsh times, leaders were losing lives at an astonishing rate. His reign as duputy would surely not be long, and soon enough he would be the one in charge of ThunderClan. It was a great honor, and Whitefur was certainly not one to refuse such a glorious opportunity, but such a weight came with it! However, Whitefur knew that this was what he must do. He would protect the cats of ThunderClan with all of his soon-to-be nine lives!
At that time did, indeed, come just as quickly as Whitefur had expected. Pinestar lost eight of his nine lives in a frightening successsion of events, and his ninth and final life had been lost when he succumbed to starvation during a particularly prey-poor moon. Whitefur traveled to the Moonstone and rather nervously received his nine lives, becoming Whitestar. He led the Clan with a firm paw, putting much of his time and effort into attempting to secure the Clan's territory. Since that time, Whitestar had lost three of his nine lives in various raids and border fights. However, he remains strong for the good of his Clan, unwilling to show any sign of weakness or fear for the coming moons.
Roleplaying Example:
Whitestar silently stalked forward, his senses on high alert. Cats were nearby. Not ThunderClan cats, but WindClan cats. Whitestar lifted his head slightly as he put another careful paw forward, opening his mouth slightly to scent the air. Definitely WindClan cats, and quite a few of them. Three, at least, and heading this way. With a small hiss of annoyance, Whitestar narrowed his stunning amber eyes; prey was nearby, on WindClan territory, amazingly more plump that the average, run-of-the-mill mice lurking amid the trees; however, with these WindClan cats nearby, there was certainly no way for him to snatch it up before he was spotted. "What luck," he said to himself, his voice a low growl. "Great StarClan, cats are dying of starvation!" he continued, now addressing the starry warriors watching over the Clans. "The least you could do was hold off the patrol until I caught that rabbit! Do you want us all to die?"
Only silence answered Whitestar. The WindClan cats clearly hadn't heard him. With a jolt, he realized what he'd just done. How could he have spoken to StarClan that way? The lack of food must be going to his head. The white-furred leader backed off from the border slowly, meowing a quiet apology to StarClan. He would seek prey elsewhere.
But there was hardly any prey to be found. Whitestar returned with nothing to show for his effort except for a thin, half-sized vole. With a muffled sigh, he placed it on the meager stack of fresh-kill. Despite the lack of prey, ThunderClan was standing strong; however, Whitestar had a feeling that, sooner or later, the lack of decent food would bring more deaths than had ever yet been seen.
Whitestar turned, heading back to his cozy den in the side of the Highrock. He had to come up with a survival plan...or else ThunderClan was surely doomed.
Hehe.