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Post by Deleted on Sept 8, 2013 20:12:13 GMT -5
Here we go again, we're out of our medicine
Out of our minds, and we want in yours, let us in
Or I'ma kill you!
Smokestorm
45 Moons · Male · Cliffclan · WARRIOR ∙ HETERO ∙ full image - Pelt: His pelt is entirely grey, his fur short in length
- Eyes: Yellow with flecks of green
- Build: Large and muscular
- Other: Smokestorm has a slight mental illness, almost comparable to a bi-polar disorder
- Brief Description: Powerful grey tom with yellow eyes
appearance - General: Smokestorm generally projects a mostly silent, slightly crazy, insanely arrogant image. Usually he doesn't speak unless spoken too. Most cats are afraid of talking to him, because half of the time they don't know if his responses are to them or the voices in his head, and they wouldn't dare ask him to confirm which. He has leadership skills, yes, but those are hard to see shine through beneath his numerous other issues.
- Things Smokestorm Enjoys
- Talking down to others
- Giving orders
- Unquestionable obedience
- Sarcasm
- Things Smokestorm Hates
- Talking back
- Questions
- Answers
- Laziness
- Cats who look at him too long
- Cats who 'hang around' him longer than is acceptable
- Most other cats in general
- Lack of common sense
- Being judged
- Smokestorm's Habits
- Smokestorm has this habit of. . . talking to himself. Sometimes out loud, while around others. And if someone call him out on it, he'll proceed to get angry. Very angry.
- Occasionally, though rather rare, Smokestorm will go missing. Not for long of course, because he will remember he has duties to fulfill as CliffClan's warrior. Usually he ends up at the Vanishing Cliff, milling about aimlessly. . . talking to himself.
- Smokestorm likes to. . . spy. Yes, he's a peeping tom. He does it to satisfy his own dark fantasies.
- Smokestorm's Positive Traits
- Smokestorm's Negative Traits
- Bi-polar
- Edgy
- Temperamental
- Vengeful
- Schemer
- Your Own Section
personality - History: No one could tell you exactly when Smokestorm took a turn for the worse. He had been a friendly, genial kit and a thoughtful, helpful apprentice. He never slacked on his duties, and though he might have huffed once or twice when he was tasked with cleaning out the elders den, he never rolled his eyes or complained. He finished the more 'boring' apprentice burdens in a timely fashion and with a practiced ease. When he was named a warrior, he started off his life as 'Smokestorm' as a proud, loyal warrior. Others envied his powerful build and how he would domineer in battle sessions. At one point and time he had a couple different she-cats padding after him; every kit and apprentice looked up to him, and other warriors envied him.
- Eights moons passed from his warrior ceremony, and at 20 moons old Smokestorm's future was looking bright. He was given an apprentice to mentor, Coyotepaw, and he couldn't have been more proud of himself and his accomplishments. Three moons into Coyotepaw's training, and the little tom was looking promising. On the way back from one of their hunting sessions, they were stopped by a patrol. The patrol told not only Smokestorm but also Coyotepaw who happened to also be present, that the bodies of Smokestorm's mother and father had been found at the bottom of the cliff. They had either jumped or fell to their deaths.
- You see, Smokestorm had actually been very close to his parents. He lived for their praises and affection. And, Smokestorm wasn't their only kit. Coyotekit, known as Coyotepaw now, had been their only kit in their second litter, as he had been their only kit in their first litter. And on that day, in that moment, Coyotepaw had turned on Smokestorm, his older brother who he had looked up to and wanted to be just like, who he had begged his parents to beg their leader to allow him to mentor him even though they shared blood, and told him that he wished it was Smokestorm's broken body laying at the bottom of the cliff instead of their parents. And they never talked again.
- As the days turned into nights and the nights turned into moons, Coyotepaw had taken a new mentor. And though Smokestorm had tried to talk to him, to reason with him, to grieve with his brother, Coyotepaw would turn away from him the moment he saw him coming. They went three moons without talking. And then it was Coyotepaw's naming ceremony. Coyotepaw was named Coyoteheart. And Smokestorm cheered his brother's new name loudest of all.
- That night, he tried to talk to Coyoteheart again. And when he saw Smokestorm coming, he didn't turn away from him. Smokestorm wasn't sure if it was because he was finally ready to listen to what he had to say or because he was sitting vigil. Either way, Smokestorm felt a sense of relief wash over him. "Look," he had began, gazing at his paws. But Coyoteheart cut him off with a hiss. "Get away from me, murderer. Sadist." Smokestorm glanced at him, shocked. He opened his mouth to speak, but Coyoteheart gave an angry lash of his tail, breaking away from his solid sitting position to glare at him hatefully. "You killed our parents because you were afraid that they'd love me more. You're sick. You're a sociopath. We aren't kin. We aren't clanmates. You're lower than the dirt beneath my paws. Don't try to talk to me again, I want nothing to do with a psyhco killer like you."
- Smokestorm stared at him for a second longer, Coyoteheart already having looked away from him. He didn't even have time to process his words as he left his brother to slink away to his den. He was broken.
- The next morning, Smokestorm awoke to whispers in the hollow. When he was able to pull himself to his feet and head out into the open, he was met with stares. . . and silence. Smokestorm blinked, trying to ignore the looks as he walked to the fresh kill pile. The whispering started again, and more glances and stares in his direction continued. This behavior from his clanmates lasted for three nights before Smokestorm had had enough. He was sick of the looks, the whispers, the sick feeling he got in his stomach whenever he'd get near another cat and they'd walk away. Feeling brave, he marched up to Coyoteheart, asking him in a lowered voice if he knew what the whispers and stares were about. "Don't you know? Don't you get it? The whole Clan knows now; I told them. You're a cold blooded killer and no one can stand to be around you. They all knew something had had to have always been wrong with you; no cat could be as great as you were without having some sort of dark secret. And now they finally know what it is. Too bad Ibis-star doesn't have the heart to kick you out." Smokestorm was at a loss for words. He didn't know how to respond, couldn't respond, and so he left Coyoteheart, slinking out of camp to be alone so he couldn't hear his clanmates whispered accusations.
- Two moons had passed.That night he had known his bother would be at the cliffs, where he often was because he felt being so close to his parents final resting place would mean he could talk to them and they would hear him and listen. On his way there, Smokestorm started to realize his brother never seemed to be 'all there', and that he couldn't blame him for his actions, not really. He was about to turn around, to go back to camp, when a voice called out to him through the gloom. It was Coyoteheart, but it sounded. . . off. Smokestorm paused, but the voice came again. Flattening his ears, he padded toward his brother. "Congratulations," Coyoteheart slurred, looking at Smokestorm with eyes that couldn't focus but bounced back and forth, back and forth. "That's what you came here for, isn't it? To rub it in my face, to force me to congratulate you?!" His brother thought he had become deputy, but he was wrong. Coyoteheart's voice rose and he took a couple of steps backward, a few pebbles shifting under his paws and trickling down the cliff. The echo of their drop was long and haunting.
- "Coyoteheart, no. . ." Smokestorm began, but he couldn't force himself to continue. He didn't want praise, he wanted a confrontation. He wanted Coyoteheart to stop spreading terrible rumors about him. He wanted them to be brothers again, and for his Clan to look up to him once more, like it used to. But Smokestorm hesitated too long. Coyoteheart scoffed.
- "Well, you won't get any compliments from me, murderer. I talked to mother and father, and it's time. They said they can't bare to be without me any longer, but that I had to wait. . . I had to make it look like an accident, like you made their deaths look. . ." Spit flew from Coyoteheart's black lips and fell to glisten on his fur made stark white from the light of the moon. His dancing eyes looked crazed as he finally was able to gain control over them and center them on Smokestorm. "This is your fault, Smokestorm, and everyone will know it." And with that, he took the last step backward over the cliff face, falling into nothingness. Smokestorm heard his body break against the rocks below with a sickening thud. His mind went blank and his body was put on auto-pilot as he mindlessly took a few steps forward to crane his neck over the ledge. Thick, black fluid seeped from his brother's crumbled body, his neck and chest and legs all laying at awkward angles. The black liquid grew and Smokestorm watched, transfixed, until it began trickling down the stones into blackness.
- The next morning, Smokestorm awoke to a renewed force of rushed whispers. He forced his eyes open as he padded out into the clearing, selecting a piece of prey and gulping it down quickly. Coyoteheart's dead. The dried, lackluster meat tasted like dirt in his mouth. Smokestorm did it. He buried the bones. We should kill him, too. One warrior, two warriors. We should kill him like he killed Coyoteheart. Three warriors. Like he killed his parents. Four warriors, and an apprentice. That should be enough. WE SHOULD KILL HIM TOO. Smokestorm whipped his head around, centering a burning glare on an unsuspecting warrior. The cat looked at him like he had bees in his brain. Smokestorm curled back his top lip, showing teeth. The cat quickly glanced away and picked himself up to walk as fast as he could out of the camp. 'Those whispers,' Smokestorm though darkly, 'I'll stop them, if it's the last thing I do.'
- But this time the voices were in his head.
- Family/Relatives
- Father: Basiliskfang (Deceased)
- Mother: Miststream (Deceased)
- Brother: Coyoteheart (Deceased)
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Post by ★NATSU on Sept 8, 2013 20:12:55 GMT -5
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