Falconpaw

[Fia]

Name: Falconpaw

Prefix Meaning: Named for the bird, which is often silver or brown but sometimes black. Besides that, he was named after his mother's brother, Falconflight, who died in an accident just before Falconpaw was born.

Suffix Meaning: Falconpaw is an apprentice; thus, -paw.

Age: 8 moons

Rank: Apprentice

Clan: NightClan [insert deadly glare here]

Description: Surprisingly, perhaps, Falconpaw is not a gray or brown cat, but a pitch black one. His pelt is as dark as one would expect of a NightClan cat, the color of a raven or crow, or the depths of a cave. Even in brilliant sunlight, his fur in pure black- no gray undercoat, no blue highlights, not even the common brown tint that the sun often reveals on black cats. It’s just the very blackest black. That’s not to say it doesn’t shine in the light- it most certainly does. Falconpaw’s pelt is always, always sleek and shiny. It gleams brightly whenever the light touches it- sunlight, moonlight, starlight. If there’s any light at all, his fur catches and reflects it. So while his pelt is indeed pure, jet black, it often looks as if it has bright highlights- those would be the parts of it that the light is striking. Besides being smooth and glossy, Falconpaw’s fur is nice and short; this is very fortunate, for it keeps him from baking to death in the hot moons of Greenleaf. After all, dark colors absorb heat, so it’s a good thing his pelt isn’t long as well as black. And its ability to keep him warm, despite being so short, is something he’s very glad for in cooler seasons. Because he is so young, he hasn’t had the chance to be seriously injured, and therefore has no distinctive scars to mar his sleek fur.

Under his striking black pelt, Falconpaw is still a small cat. But that’s only because he’s so young; he has already begun to build solid muscles through his daily training. Still, he will never be an exceptionally large tom- he doesn’t have the bulky frame or powerful shoulders that indicate a soon-to-be big cat. Rather, he’s a sturdy but medium-sized tom and will remain so as he grows up. He has limbs of average length but impressive strength, and hard, solid paws that can do significant damage even with their claws sheathed. But said claws are sharp and lethal, not exceptionally long but deadly nonetheless. Physically, Falconpaw is quick on his paws and remarkably agile, making the most of his lean, sleek form to make up for all that he lacks in brute force. His tail, nicely-proportional to his body and legs, is sleek and elegant and ends in a rather pointed tip, as if to counter said elegance with a slightly more dangerous look.

One look at Falconpaw’s face gives you a good first impression of his personality. He has handsome, arrogant features on a pentagon-shaped face. Alert, well-shaped, tall triangular ears are perched high on his head, and he has a rather distinct chin and muzzle than only contribute to the proud look of his face- partly because of the way they are forever lifted or tilted to one side in a somehow appealingly arrogant way. His eyes, sharp and slanted, gleam coolly out at the world, a light shade of yellow-green that alters between the two colors depending on the light. Often, his mouth is curved into a proud little smirk that only adds to his charm.

Overall, he’s a nicely-formed, strikingly handsome young tom, and is very, very aware of it.


Personality: Falconpaw is, above all, a self-serving cat. He isn’t a cruel tom, he doesn’t enjoy the suffering of others, but he doesn’t particularly care what happens to other individuals as long as he gets what he wants, one way or another. That’s not to say he’s a got a heart of stone- just a heart of ice that rarely melts. Somewhere in this frozen heart of his, there’s a little spark of kindness, and it does flare up on occasion. Around his Clanmates, he’s a good-natured, if cool, young tom. While he prefers to sit aside and simply enjoy his own company, he is constantly watching the daily happenings around NightClan, and so knows exactly how to step into any conversation, and which to step into. He manages to be highly charming, among peers as well as his superiors, for he isn’t an unpleasant cat to be around at all. He does have an air of smug superiority, but doesn’t brag quite enough to annoy his Clanmates- just enough to be amusingly arrogant in older cats’ eyes. Cool and critical he may be, but as long as he feels you’re worth knowing, he’s a perfectly friendly tom, and perfectly capable of genuine affection. But if he has to choose between what’s best for him and what’s best for another cat, even a ‘friend’, he will choose what most benefits him. If you have any sense at all, don’t rely on his friendship.

And if he feels you’re not worth knowing, he’ll give you a cold, disdainful look and then ignore you altogether. Unless he’s in a good mood, in which case he’ll give you a cold, fake smile, and then ignore you altogether.

Self-absorbed as he is, Falconpaw is also a very prideful young cat. He considers himself to be vastly more wise, clever, and knowledgeable that any medicine cat or Clan leader, even to the point of lacking any respect for StarClan itself. They’re dead cats, he shrugs dismissively. Nothing more. Nothing special. He, on the other paw, is all-knowing and all-powerful; at least, in his own mind. He feels he is above the warrior code, and that he only ‘follows’ it because he has enough sense of his own to see that it is indeed a worthy set of rules and values. In other words, the code meets with his approval, but should it ever be a hindrance to him, he won’t hesitate to simply disregard it as pointless and beneath his own judgment. He is respectful towards “so-called superiors”, because he understands that if he were not, it would only delay an event of utmost importance: his own warrior ceremony, after which he is certain that his superior intellect and warrior skills will be properly celebrated at last. But behind his outrageously inflated ego, he is indeed a highly intelligent young cat. Not only is he smart, he’s shrewd and cunning, with a sharp, calculating mind and brilliant memory for key details. He often appears to be off in his own world, in which he is apparently glorified above all creatures, but in reality, he is highly observant, always keenly aware of his surroundings. Often, he will be in the middle of a conversation and suddenly whip around to greet a silent approacher or spring at a piece of prey scurrying past behind his back.

Falconpaw, while not emotionally attached to his Clan, is fiercely proud to be a NightClan cat and openly scorns the other Clans- especially MoonClan, NightClan’s greatest rival since ancient times. Bunch of pansies, he sneers. Softer than kittypets. And no brighter than the twoleg pets, either. At Gatherings, however, he turns on the charm and goes from an acid-tongued critic to a silver-tongued smooth-talker. In a conversation with any non-NightClanner, he’s careful to be respectful and even complimentary- in this regard, he’s a great politician, diplomatic and polite, capable of putting others completely at ease in his presence. Then he’ll have them spouting information without realizing they’re saying anything important. On the other hand, he also has a talent for goading equally young and proud cats into losing their tempers and blurting out things that they later regret revealing. Falconpaw makes a fantastic little spy if you can get him on your side, because he doesn’t have any problem with sneaking around, eavesdropping, and lying though his teeth if he feels it will benefit him somehow. It’s hard to keep him on your side, though, because if he thinks the ‘other’ side has more to offer him, he’ll switch over to them in a flash. So, no, he’s not particularly loyal to anyone but himself.

Selfish little devil.

But however much he prefers to look out for number one (himself, obviously) Falconpaw relishes any chance to fight for NightClan. It’s not causing others pain that he enjoys- it’s the thrill of a battle that he loves so much. Being a fierce, highly skilled fighter, Falconpaw delights in showing of his battle skills, and will challenge much older, more experienced cats at every possible opportunity, just to prove that he can take them on. But he’s happy to fight fellow apprentices as well, and most of the time, will swiftly and gleefully send them scrambling away with their tails between their legs. For him, battles are not about defending NightClan, but proving his own immeasurable worth.


History: For this young tom’s parents, his birth was a particularly timely, joyful event. For he was born barely half a moon after the death of his mother’s brother, the young warrior named Falconflight, who died defending his sister from a fox when they were taking a ‘quiet walk’ in the forest. The kit’s arrival in NightClan helped his mother, Willowtail, get over the loss of her littermate; and the little black kit was named Falconkit in honor of the noble warrior who saved his mother’s life- and his. Willowtail, despite her lingering grief, was an exceptionally gentle, loving queen; and Falconkit’s father, Blackstorm, was a mighty warrior with a warm heart. Falconkit was the light of his parents’ lives, their first and only kit, their pride and joy from the moment he was born. And there began his feelings of natural superiority, for he was forever being assured that he was the most beautiful, the most intelligent, the most wonderful kit ever to be born, in NightClan and it all the world. Because he had no littermates, he never had to learn to share, or consider the feelings of others, and thus never learned not to be selfish. His parents taught him to be kind, and to never cause unnecessary suffering, and he took their lessons to heart- but they never thought it necessary to teach their son humility, and so his self-esteem grew and grew into pure arrogance. But, blinded by love and pride, neither Willowtail nor Blackstorm saw anything but a self-confident young tom. And while Falconkit did love his parents, he never quite appreciated them- he felt that all the love and care and praise they gave him were nothing less than he deserved, simply for being his wonderful self.

Even as a kit, Falconkit was eager to learn to look out for himself- perhaps because he felt he was above being looked after by ‘mere mortals’, so to speak, or perhaps because he wanted to show that he could take care of himself just as well as a warrior could. Either way, he was forever pestering his father to teach him battle moves and hunting techniques; Blackstorm, being the pushover, couldn’t-say-no daddy that he was, readily obliged. And Falconkit learned quickly. By the age of five moons, he could stalk a mouse just as well as a new apprentice; he caught his first frog long before then. And he could take on bigger, stronger kits with ease, and even hold his own against apprentices- at least long enough to get in a few good swats or nips. By the time he was made an apprentice himself, Falconpaw had passed the typical beginner’s level and was demanding more challenging training. He had to be the best, he insisted in frustration when he was told to be patient. It wasn’t fair that his endless potential should be restrained. What was wrong with learning sooner and faster than other apprentices? Didn’t NightClan want him to be a great warrior as soon as possible?

When training continued at its usual pace, Falconpaw decided that enough was enough, and he was going to prove his superiority to the world whether it wanted him to or not. So when a warrior reported an apparently young but potentially dangerous fox on the territory, Falconpaw made sure to tag along with every patrol in the hopes of running into the creature. Sure enough, when a hunting patrol came across the thing, he was the first to sight it, and to launch himself at it. Once the patrol had driven it off, the apprentice was reprimanded for his recklessness but praised for his impressive performance. However, much to his outrage, he was not rewarded with the more advanced training he craved; rather, he was given the honor of attending the next Gathering. Not a bad consolation prize, he decided, smug to be attending a Gathering in his first moon of apprenticeship. But he wasn’t impressed with the apprentices of the other Clans, and came home sneering and scornful. Since then, he has taken to practicing battle moves on his own and with his happy-to-oblige father, in order to more quickly surpass the non-NightClan apprentices, and reach the rank of warrior long before they do. To put them to shame, as he purrs to himself.

Picture:

[-->SAPHiRE]

I love him so much! *hugs cat tightly* He's so amazing and amazing and amazing! Your bio has been ACCEPTED and will soon be moved to the acceptance board!

[Fia]

Yay! Thank you, Saphire!