Lionstar

[Lionstar]

Name(s):
Lionkit Lionpaw Lionfrost Lionstar

Gender:
Tom

Age:
42 moons

Clan:
ThunderClan

Rank:
Leader

Appearance:
”Mittens” in this set.

When Lionstar was born, he was just a fluffy, tiny kit, nearly a runt of his litter, some would say. The poor kit, sometimes he would be mistaken for a clump of his mother's fur stuck in the moss of the nest, and somebody would go to remove him, only for him to let out a piercing shriek and wriggle about. As he grew, his tabby lines became slightly more defined, and he certainly filled out to fit an average ThunderClan build -- not too large, not too small, but somewhere in the middle. Beneath his thick pelt, however, he has muscles fit for a warrior in his prime -- well, at least, seeing as he is a leader in his prime, there is no reason that his body should not reflect that. He is not the most muscular, nor the strongest, nor the quickest, nor the best jumper, nor the best etc., but he is not below average in anything.

Lionstar is a richly colored golden-brown tabby, with white paws and a silvery-black tail tip. His nose is a dusty rosy pink color, and his deep-set eyes a bright blue-green. From his ears spurt some white tufts of fur, and the tips of his ears have small dark points. His fur is thick and long, but the longest is on his tail, a luxury which he rather treasures more than he should. Along his spine runs a stripe, darkening from his skull to his tail tip. His mouth and chin are white, or at least creamy-pale enough that it makes no difference, and on either side sprout his long, wiry, silver-white whiskers. Lionstar's most distinguishing trait, however, perhaps could be the pair of white pieces on his face, one a triangle from his nose pointing up and one a long diamond between his eyes.

As a kit, Lionstar was named for his thick fur, which puffed out around his neck and looked to be something of a mane, as well as his golden sheen. As a warrior, his name was for his eyes -- and, perhaps, for his personality as well. He looks much like what he is: a dark lion with a touch of frost.

Personality:
Lionstar's personality is, like all other living creatures, complicated. There is what he is, what he wishes to be, and what he must or should be. He is a tom, named Lionstar, with eight lives remaining. He wishes to be a leader with nine lives remaining, but alas. He should be simply living his life to serve his Clan to his fullest. But, these are bare bones and have said nothing about who he is.

There are many words that can describe Lionstar. Intuitive might be the first and foremost, as it is what has kept him alive and has gotten him to where he is now. His eyes are not only coolly colored, but also sharp, and pick up on many things. It is one reason he prefers not to watch the goings on in the camp, for he does not want to have to see the tension between cats, or the lust, or whatever sort of drama could be stirring. When something is brought to him, he can oft perceive it to be what it is, either a fraud or a truth. Is this trait of his, his intuition, infallible? Of course not. Nothing is. A truly skilled liar could sneak something past him, or a particularly stealthy warrior code breaker.

This intuition helps him to be efficient and effective in what he does. When a task is set before Lionstar, he will decide the quickest, cleanest path to fulfilling that goal, and then he will execute the actions necessary along that path. It is quite, simple, really -- he thinks in rather simple terms. Easy or hard? Easy does not necessarily mean fastest, but it can; it does not necessarily mean using violence, but sometimes it can; it does not mean refusing to help another Clan for no reason because of geography and distance, for often garnering the favor of another Clan makes many struggles easier along the road. Of course, there have been times when Lionstar has made a mistake, and it proved to be quite grave; his mistakes tend to be on the heavier side rather than the more benign, and not just because of a leader. Rarely does the most efficient path require a gamble, but sometimes it does, and if that gamble fails, well, then that is a complication that must be dealt with. Lionstar despises complications and would much rather wipe out variables in one way or another.

In addition to his efficiency and effectiveness, Lionstar has a tendency to be fearless. He always was confidant, but ever since he acquired his nine lives, he has thrown fear to the wind and merely gone forth. Is he reckless? No, not truly, or at least not with any other cat's life, no other cat in his Clan, that is. Yet he is not gripped by the icy, shredding claws of terror. Perhaps it is because of pride, or perhaps it is because of confidence and certainty. Either way, it exists.

Lionstar is practical and down-to-earth. He does not get swept up in fantasies or silly rages of fancy. He plods along, feeling the earth beneath his white paws, and that is that. In truth, ever since he was a kit, feats of story-telling imagination flew over his head, and he would much rather have figured out a new, more efficient way to organize the brambles of the dens or to clean out the moss (having nearly been swept out with it several times). It certainly helped to be this way when dealing with the duties of deputy-ship, organizing the patrols and simply advising the leader.

Now, perhaps in contrasting fashion, Lionstar is a solitary creature, yet he often dislikes being alone for too much time at once. Perhaps he enjoys his own time, his own space, his own mind, and enjoys planning and solving problems by himself, without the distracting and often conflicting and rancorous input of other cats. At the same time, however, Lionstar has always lived in a Clan, and to be without them for too long feels odd and off-putting. Indeed, sometimes missing the time of sharing-tongues or meeting the new kits feels somehow wrong. The physical presence seems to soothe him, it might be.

And finally, Lionstar is not concerned with honor. Some might label him "dishonorable" but he would not go so far as to state that about himself. The warrior code has a place and time, he feels, but when it gets in the way of his efficiency, it tends to matter less, and he will justify it however he needs to; a promise from him could mean anything and have any amount of weight behind it, and those both will almost certainly shift before the promise is either kept or broken. In addition to this, he is often apathetic and indifferent to the personal struggles of anyone around him. If he sees an opportunity to forge a worthwhile alliance, then he will take it, but otherwise he does not care -- it could not even be said that he finds it difficult to care because he does not even attempt to seek compassion. An unusual set of traits for a ThunderClan cat, one might think, but Lionstar does not care about that. He's not particularly ambitious or murderous or violent or vicious or rebellious or self-centered, though of course he has some of each of those in him -- after all, who doesn't? He does not tolerate fools, and will not hesitate to shut them down.

Lionstar does not quite live up to his noble name and noble Clan, does he? He would respond to that, "Nay, I live far beyond them."

History:
Born to Warblerwing and Thistlestorm, Lionkit was the only kit of his litter to survive to become an apprentice. He has little memory of his siblings, but knows their names, as his parents made sure to remind him every so often: Pipitkit and Redkit. What happened was, Warblerwing was a senior warrior who had yet to have kits, and so she and Thistlestorm, her good friend from kithood, decided to become parents together while they still had a chance. Though the kits were born mid-newleaf, as they should have been, Pipitkit was weak from birth, and all of the kits ran on the small side. Soon, Pipitkit grew ill and died. Redkit at least got a chance to play with Lionkit a little bit, but not too too much, for a resurgent wave of the sickness occurred and took Redkit from little Lionkit. He doesn't feel much sorrow over this, however. It's not really a vital part of his identity, being an only-kit.

When Lionkit, a fairly unadventurous kit, reached six moons, he became an apprentice without having caused any trouble as a youngin'. His mentor was a senior warrior, a friend of his parents, named Greenheart. She possessed the eternal inner youthfulness that Lionpaw seemed to lack, even at his young age. Playing with other kits was not as fun as they made it seem, and he would much rather have sit about and strategized battles or marveled at the beauty of the natural world, or just groomed himself. After all, fur that magnificent doesn't care for itself, and he had plenty of work to do with that alone.

As an apprentice, Lionpaw was friendly with the others, but not especially close. He did not refuse when they offered him a place on their outings, so long as they were not breaking the warrior code. If there were any chance that he could get in trouble for them, Lionpaw politely declined. He wasn't as mature as he sounds, however -- he often goofed around and let off energy doing silly, frivolous things. As he grew, he grew to dislike those things and to block the memories of when he did them. In his mind, Lionstar has always been a regal 100-moon-old tom (not one of his greater issues, to be rather frank).

When Lionpaw was eight moons, he had his first taste of battle and blood. He was on a patrol with his cheerful mentor, another warrior, and that warrior's apprentice, and they were on the WindClan side of the territory. They stumbled upon a few WindClan cats that had strayed over the territory line, crossing the stream and encroaching deeper into ThunderClan's land. Greenheart, being the more senior of the two warriors, confronted them verbally, while Lionpaw stood behind her and examined the setting, looking much like a distracted young apprentice -- his fluff still had yet to fill out completely, and so he seemed a rather poofy young fellow. While they were speaking, rapidly growing more aggressive in their body language and speech, Lionpaw sneaked around to stand behind a cat he had notice seemed to walk as though she were somehow tired, her paws dragging just the slightest in a way that WindClan cats especially do not do. When the fighting broke out, started by either of the Clans, it makes no matter, Lionpaw pounced on her flank and dragged her down, clinging on out of reach until she used up her paltry amount of energy. The ThunderClan cats outnumbered the WindClan trespassers by one, and with one of the WindClanners already incapacitated, well, it was an easy win, and they sent the trespassers running.

Greenheart congratulated Lionpaw specifically, while the other warrior praised his apprentice. Lionpaw puffed up proudly, still quivering with the rush of battle, still tingling with energy and enthusiasm. What great fun that was, and look how he did not get harmed even a little! His wits, clearly, were what were important he had learned, and so he grew to depend on them more and more often. He had not realized that he had this perceptive strength before, as it had always just been a vague extra sort of feeling, he didn't notice that he vaguely noticed things, but when he tuned in and focused his attention, he realized how much he could sense. Greenheart mentioned to him much later that she saw the turning point in his training from mere average ambling to serious and accelerated was that skirmish at the WindClan border.

Three moons later, when Lionpaw was eleven moons, he was made a warrior. The name he was given was Lionfrost, for his eyes and frosty tips, but certainly also for his cold personality. The qualities for which he was praised were "forethought" and "cleverness", and those could not be more true to his character. Indeed, those are not only Lionstar's most cherished traits but also his strongest. At Lionfrost's warrior ceremony, his mentor announced her retirement to the elders' den, for she said she was growing too old and that she wanted to live long enough to see her final apprentice do good things for the Clan.

Lionfrost remained dutiful for his vigil, not speaking, hardly even looking at the other cat sitting beside him. His back and neck were stiff when the sun finally rose, and when he dragged himself into the warriors' den, he flopped down along the edge and slept immediately and deeply.

While Lionfrost was still a young warrior, tensions grew to an all-time high, at least in his life up until that point, between WindClan and ThunderClan, two Clans frequently thought of as allies. There were several battles, in which Lionfrost sometimes participated, though he also was often made to help the apprentices with guarding the camp, specifically the nursery and elders' den. When he was stationed by the elders' den, Greenheart would often chat with him, or tease him, and often took her own defensive stance, and no words from any cat could make her move.

In one battle, Lionfrost felt a twinge of fear -- the adrenaline blocked out much of the other fear, but this was not the sort of fear that adrenaline could block. It was not the fear for life and limb, but the fear of morality, of life and death. In this battle, Lionfrost nearly killed a cat, and he knows not to this day if the warrior he was battling died later of the wounds Lionfrost had inflicted. It was a sort of average cat, one of those seemingly-featureless ones only because you see the features so often. Wiry, that gray-brown sort of colorless color tabby, yellow eyes, the broad face of the Clans, but not so broad that it was noticeable. Lionfrost was fighting alongside his mother and one of the cats he had apprenticed with when he noticed, across the relatively small battlefield, a cat about to pounce on his father from behind. His father was bravely fighting two cats at once, slashing and clawing in front of him. Lionfrost saw a chance to be a hero, something that does not often occur to him. It would be so easy, as he was bulkier than the other cat, just to tackle him to the ground. Spinning from the cat he and the other two cats with him were battling, for three-on-one was simply unnecessary at that time, Lionfrost began bounding across the battlefield when he was struck much the same way he was planning to strike. Writhing in a tangled mass of flesh and fur and limbs, Lionfrost bit down and sunk his fangs into his assailant. When they finally untangled, he recognized a cat from his Clan, bloodied and wide-eyed and fleeing from wounds. ThunderClan cats, fleeing? Already? It was night moonhigh! Then again, the battle had begun at sunset, and perhaps some of the original fighters were heading back for rest, as it had been a grueling fight. Lionfrost whirled around to face head-on the cat that could have been chasing his Clanmate, but there was nobody pursuing. Turning back to look for his father, Lionfrost saw nothing -- or at least, nothing of his father. Immediately, he leaped forward and bounded to the place where he found his father, bleeding and snarling. Lionfrost found the nearest cat to him, one who seemed winded but otherwise unharmed, and began to tear into it (he never paused for even a moment to ascertain the sex of the beast). In the moments when Lionfrost relied on brute force instead of his mind, he nearly killed a cat. Oh, he has killed in the thick of battle since -- accidents, of course (he'll say, when it was truly the easiest not to hold back that thoughtless final blow) -- but this was different, this was his first, and he was terrified. He was not sure where the reflected horror and terror began, in his eyes or his foe's. In the end, he let the cat stumble off, and Lionfrost turned to help up his father, who did survive the fight, but retired to the elders' den afterwards. No mention was made of Lionfrost's near-kill, though it was a secret, silently shared knowledge between them, reminding both of it with every glance and met gaze.

Lionfrost lived life much outside the social circles of other cats his age. It didn't seem to matter to him, he just lived life on a routine, obeying orders and shooting disapproving glances at morons during sharing-tongues, when everyone thought their voice necessary to be heard by all others, it seemed, for some of them.

At thirty moons, Lionfrost was given his first apprentice. It was while he was teaching this apprentice, in his efficient sort of manner, one might even want to say merciless, but naturally one would not, that he made his first kill. It was a rogue, actually, and right after saving his apprentice from a fox. It simply was not Lionfrost's day, to be quite honest. He was up before dawn, and by sunset, he did not feel like dealing with a fool arrogant rogue waving his bum about in ThunderClan's face. The rogue threatened Lionfrost's apprentice, and Lionfrost leaped down from a branch, claiming that the death had been an accident -- Lionfrost had told his apprentice to run, and then followed in the treetops, pouncing as though the rogue were a very large mouse. Hunting techniques were good for more than just the acquisition of fresh-kill. Or, at least, edible fresh-kill. Lionfrost dragged the body away and hid it away in the den of the aforementioned and afore-defeated fox, then returned to his apprentice. To his mild surprise, he felt little to nothing. Later that night, he felt nothing. The next day, he felt nothing. His dreams, however, grew more frightening. For a few moons, he was haunted by dangerous dreams of giant black foxes swallowing him whole and forcing him to leap through fire in their bellies, always avoiding shadows from above.

When Lionfrost was thirty-six moons, and his apprentice a warrior made, the deputy retired. Lionfrost was nominated deputy, much to his surprise. He always felt as if he were a background warrior, never really one to make a fuss about anything or have his voice truly heard. Maybe he was a political decision, not strongly liked but neither strongly disliked. Maybe the leader actually thought that Lionfrost could do a good job. Who knows? Lionfrost accepted, of course, and did his best to do the job. At first, he was anxious and insecure, but it hardly took a moon for him to settle into the job.

After only three moons, however, the leader died, and told Lionfrost, while dying, that there was another true leader with the true nine lives. More irritated by the inconvenience than anything, Lionfrost nodded simply and went out to search for this "true leader". He found this cat and, instead of bringing her back, or whatever one does when one finds these, he told her that he was deputy, but asked for her blessing, through the official words of the ceremony. Lionfrost did not know how StarClan deals with this sort of thing, but he wanted there to be no doubt about his legitimacy -- for the sake of reducing chaos. She did so, nodding as though she had known about this all along; Lionfrost thought her quite a snob. Then, he led her to her death. One could not say he actively murdered her, for he merely did not save her. The next night, Lionfrost received his nine lives and became Lionstar.

When Lionstar was forty-two moons, he was acting on a summons on a patrol during a storm and was caught beneath a falling branch. As he rose, he cursed his foolishness, realizing that he had lost one of his lives only one moon into his leadership. The summons was some worthless thing to make ShadowClan cats go back to hunting on their own land, which the deputy could have dealt with quite well enough with Lionstar there. He returned and dutifully reported his loss of a life to the medicine cat, but requested that it remain a secret, so there could be no shame brought on him, so all cats would think he still had his nine lives.

Characters:
Graypaw, Lilystep, Lionstar, Silverfrost

[Deleted]

Accepted! He sounds like such an interesting cat. He will make a great leader for ThunderClan hehe. I love his personality and back story!