deersprint of shadowclan

[deersprint]

it's where my demons hide

NAME deerkit - deerpaw - deersprint

GENDER Male

CLAN Shadowclan

RANK Warrior

APPRENTICE Gorsepaw

AGE Thirty-Two Moons

DESCRIPTION A muscular ginger and white long-haired tabby with amber eyes.

APPEARANCE Deersprint, body-shape wise, is very stereotypical. There isn't really much about his physique that catches the eye, that causes those sucked in breaths. He isn't unusually small, nor is he nearly as massive as his brother Moosefoot. He has no awkward deformities - no missing legs, strangely colored eyes, certainly no extra unnecessary body parts. Assembled amongst the ranks of Shadowclan, its easy to let the eyes simply wander over him, to let him blend in amongst the ranks. He likes it that way, most of the time. But then again, somethimes its better to be noticed.

Deersprint leans towards having a more muscular build, though nothing near the degree of Moosefoot. Next to his brother, well he's very unimpressive indeed. He has a slightly leaner build than Moose. His muscle is evident, yes. He is definitely in prime physical condition. But he doesn't carry that massive unusual size. But then again, that's compared to his above average brother. He has stockier legs, a long tail. It's a very stereotypically Shadowclan build, made for skulking through the shadows, more for brute muscle than for running or swimming or tree-climbing.

In terms of appearance, well this is the one thing that attracts attention. He is a long-haired ginger tom. His fur is silky and hangs around him in all places. It wraps around his legs, like a great blanket fallen over his back. His ginger coloring isn't the fiery or dark ginger that leans towards red, but rather a much lighter color closer to a pale orange or cream. This is interspersed with some cream and white, especially on his chest and underbelly. He has some tabby markings, but is clearly not a full-blooded tabby tom. These markings are most evident on his face. He has tufts of fur on the ends of his ears, almost lynx-like in appearance. His eyes are a grayish brown color, usually leaning further towards gray.

PERSONALITY Deersprint has a number of non-flattering adjectives that describe him. He tends to be rather gruff, blunt and a stereotypical "tough guy". He's always willing to be the first to fight, the first to prove that he's a man. He has a large pride, and firm ideas on what makes a man weak. He likes to put up appearances, give others an impression of him - frankly the impression that he's okay. He tends to smile, make a lot of jokes, but turn serious on the flip of a coin.

Inside, Deersprint is driven largely by a desire for revenge and a need to escape his mother's death and father's abandonment. He throws himself into battle, into war and bloodlust - anything that maes him feel stronger than his grief and fear - namely his fear of losing Moosefoot. He's ridiculously overprotective of his brother - despite his brother outmatching him in both size and strength (and likely intelligence too). Deersprint is firmly encased in his role as "big brother" and won't give it up for anything. The words "warrior" and "brother" are what identify him, what he bases his self-image on.

Intellect wise, Deersprint isn't the sharpest tool in the shed. He isn't noticeably unintelligent, but tends to take a minute to get the answers to things. He acts before thinking, and tends to resort to violence over quesitons or peaceful negotiations. He's highly aggressive and has a bit of a temper. He leaves Moosefoot to do the planning and research, and prefers himeslf to hold the metaphorical guns. This can lead to the enactment of some seriously poorly thought through plans.

Deersprint is also a womanizer. He's lost count of the she-cats he's had relations with. It's a miracle his children aren't scampering around his paws. He's a bit of a jerk when it comes to women, and can be quite crude. He prefers superficial one night stands, and will likely never settle down (especially after seeing what happened to Moosefoot). He also couldn't imagine anyone or anything coming betweehn himself and his brother.

HISTORY Deersprint was born Deerkit, the firstborn son of Lightheart and Rowanclaw. The couple were a bit of a scandal in themselves. While both were Shadowclan through and through, their respective families hadn't been on the best of terms. LIghtheart had once been slated to train as the Medicine Cat apprentice, as her aunt had trained before her. It was a bit of a family tradition, a pride of sorts. Rowanclaw was a warrior bred of warriors. They were brutish, some, by nature. There were no signs of leadership, no great honors, and no associations with the clan Medicine Cat. But young Lightpaw and Rowanpaw fell in together. There were inseperable, much to the fury and dissaproval of Lightpaw's family. Lightpaw abandoned her training as the next Medicine Cat Apprentice, and trained as a warrior. Though true to her nature, she was always a pacifist at heart.

Rowanpaw and Lightpaw became Rowanclaw and Lightheart. Almost coinciding with their ceremony was the announcement of Lightheart's first pregnancy. Her parents, still highly dissapointed with her choice of lifestyle, refused to visit their daughter in the nursery. Eventually her first litter was born, a single surviving kitten. The little kitten was a tom, as strong and healthy as his stillborn siblings had been weak. In a gesture of love and affection to her parents, Lightheart convinced Rowanclaw to allow her to name the little tom for her mother - Fawnstep. In as close an approximation as was possible, her little kitten was dubbed Deerkit.

Deerkit was a robust young kitten, and enjoyed nothing more than the rough and tumble of the nursery. He spent every waking moment crawling over his parents, battling enemies that surely didn't exist. And almost as soon as Deerkit was weaned, Lightheart was pregnant again. Teasing murmurs went through the clan, speaking of the "eagerness" of the young couple. Lightheart's parents had begun to warm (partially swayed by their first grandkit). Deerkit was apprenticed, as all young kittens are. He'd begun training, though was truly still in the beginnings of life. Yet he prided himself. He'd just turned eight moons old when Lightheart went into labor once more. As with her first litter, only a single kitten would survive.

Deerpaw was now ten moons old, only a few precious moons from his warrior ceremony. But here had come a new development. His mother was gone, cruelly robbed of him. His father that had attended each and every moment of his son's life was suddenly absent, too busy battling enemies only existing in his mind. Deerpaw was left as the sole caretaker of his brother. And indeed, he was the one who cared for his brother. He slept in the Nursery, despite the protests of the other queens. He insisted he would be the mother and father Moosekit didn't have. It was he who brought fresh kill, who let his little brother climb over his tail. It was he who stood proudly at his brother's apprentice ceremony, when Rowanclaw couldn't bear to attend.

Unnoticed by Deerpaw, Moosekit began to spend a lot of time in the medicine cat's den, listening to Bluefur teach Ravenpaw about herbs and illnesses. The old tom indulged the curious kit, teaching him some of the more basic lessons that Ravenpaw had already learned. Bluefur had Ravenpaw teach Moosekit some of the things she'd learned as an exercise for her, but never let the tom think that he could be a medicine cat-- not because he wasn't worthy or right for the position, but because there simply wasn't a position left open for him.

Moosekit reluctantly accepted that explanation and allowed himself to be apprenticed to a crotchety older tom named [Bobby!cat]. The warrior taught him how to hunt, how to fight. Rowanclaw managed to pry himself away from his obsessive completion of his duties to drill Moosepaw in combat, passing on the particular brand of fierce, resourceful fighting his kin had honed over the generations. Though Moosepaw had difficulty spending time with his brother during the day, evenings before sleep were spent in quiet conversation. They parted to sleep, and Moosepaw found himself more often than not occupying a nest beside a she-cat named Sandpaw. As they spent more and more time together, Moosepaw discovered that he liked her intelligence, her sense of humor, her loyal friendship.

And as Moosepaw began to train, to stray away from the dream he had begun to form, Deerpaw became Deersprint. He was a warrior in blood and name. And with his adulthood came a new connection - a new connection with his father. He joined Rowanclaw on every patrol, observing the way Rowanclaw buried his grief deep away. Deersprint determined that he would do the same. He fought anything that moved, was content to leave Moosepaw. Afterall, it seemed Moosepaw didnt need him anymore - didn't want him. Moosepaw had a mentor, someone he identified with. And with that, Deersprint was being pushed away. The way he saw it, Moosepaw was banishing the only ones who had cared for him through his entire life.

Unbeknownst to Deerpsrint, Moosepaw began courting another young apprentice. He became a warrior, a ceremony Deersprint attended. He'd even though that things would change with Moosefoot's ceremony, that he'd return to his family, return to the people who loved him. But instead, Moosefoot's time wen to Sandstream. Hours and hours of time. To him, she was a steadying rock as he fought to contain the anger that began to boil up at the sight and sometimes even just the thought of his father, and as it spread to become the general state of his temper. Their courting intensified, and shortly before the upcoming Gathering, when Moosefoot had decided to ask Sandstream to officially become his mate, Dimstar assigned father, sons, and Sandstream to a border patrol.

All was well along the ThunderClan border, along the lake, and at the RiverClan border. Deersprint and Rowanclaw walked side by side, just behind Moosefoot and Sandstream. She'd insisted on being the one on the border side of the pair, claiming a more sensitive nose. None of the toms challenged her statement, and so the slender she-cat was the one to assess each marker for upkeep. Rowanclaw, Deersprint, and Moosefoot alternated refreshing markers, eyes open for danger. By the time they reached the border with the twolegplace, the cats had relaxed, ready for a cursory examination before returning to camp. Silence reigned over the patrol except for Sandstream's verdict at each marker. The air between the two pairs often became thick and awkward in the lull between decisions.

While Sandstream was sniffing a marker and the toms watched for her assessment, a group of street cats attacked. A large, scarred tom pounced on Moosefoot, taking advantage of the new warrior's gangly long legs and youthfully awkward coordination. Rowanclaw was met with a lithe, vicious she-cat, hissing and baring cracked fangs. Deersprint was tackled by a cat that Moosefoot never got a good look at. His entire attention was occupied by the tom trying to bury his fangs in the warrior's throat before he could move toward Sandstream.

Her fierce yowl carried above the racket, and he couldn't help but smile proudly. The distraction nearly allowed the street tom to sink his fangs in before Moosefoot raked his claws over his opponent's belly. Later attempts to recall his first real battle would be a blur of fur, fangs, claws, and a cacophony of noise. Blood was spilled at some point, he knew, because the smell of it hung in the air. When, he couldn't say. Thank StarClan, there was as much blood from the twolegplace cats as from the ShadowClanners.

Sharp, pained squeals signaled the retreat of Rowanclaw's and Deersprint's opponents. They quickly dragged Moosefoot's bloodied and panting enemy off of him, efficiently using their combined weight and strength to pin him down long enough for Rowanclaw to cut his right hind hamstring. He limped away as quickly as possible. Whoever had attacked Sandstream was long gone by the time their fellows retreated. But their attack had been brutal and skilled.

Sandstream's beautiful light coat was coated with enough blood that the rusty color dominated the tan of her fur. Her breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, each one wet and accompanied by a drip of blood. Chunks of muscle had been ripped from her shoulders, and her belly had been sliced open. Intestines spilled on the soft carpet of pine needles, still pulsing with life. All the lessons he'd been taught as a kit about medicine came back to him, unhelpfully dissecting just how badly off she was, how much pain his beloved Sandstream was in. They wouldn't let him pretend that she could be carried back to camp and fixed. They forced him to acknowledge that she was dying, that he hadn't been able to protect her. Moosefoot carried her back to camp with his father and brother on either side of her, a silent litany of apology to her and StarClan coursing through his mind.

He sat vigil with her cleaned body before burial, doing nothing to stop the stream of tears and occasional wrenching sob. Moosefoot pressed his nose against an intact patch of fur on her flank, grateful that Ravenflower had thought to rub herbs on her body to mask the scent of blood and death. The tom observed the usual silence for such rituals, and carried his silence for a full quarter-moon afterward. Deersprint remained by his side the entire time, a comforting presence.

After Moosefoot finally broke his silence, he unconsciously emulated his father. He threw himself into his duties, training to hone his skills every day. His focus was primarily on combat, again like Rowanclaw, due to his vow to never be so helpless to protect a loved one again. To the present day, Moosefoot blames himself for Sandstream's death. If only he'd walked on the border side, if he'd been quicker to reach her, if he'd just had the StarClan-forsaken skill to hurl his opponent aside and tackle whoever had assaulted the she-cat. If only he'd had his father's ruthless, utterly practical repertoire of skills.

His temper, without Sandstream's calming presence, grew. Moosefoot still struggles to contain it, partly out of a desire to control his temper, but mostly in her memory. His kin and friends feel sorry for any she-cat who tried to win his affections, because they not only had to compete with Moosefoot's and Deersprint's codependence, but the memory of beautiful, wonderful Sandstream, who only became more beautiful and wonderful in death.

But while Moosefoot mourned, Deersprint was engaged with silent relief. His brother had returned to him, albeit injured and broken. Deersprint had lost too much, too many. And now, in a way, his brother was just as broken as he. The two are now inseperable, unhealthily codependent according to some.

ROLE PLAYER Flyaway

[maxx]

accepted.

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Great character. <3
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