KESTRELSTORM, frostclan. [Senior Warrior]

[nessa]

*Cough* pretend it says 'FrostClan'.
I don't feel like editing this picture c:

CHARACTER NAME:
Kestrelstorm

AGE:
30 moons

GENDER:
Tom

CLAN:
FrostClan

POSITION:
Senior Warrior - tracking specialist.

DESCRIPTION:

"Gray tabby tom with amber eyes."

Kestrelstorm is graced with a sort of handsome face that gives the appearance of one who is experienced and observant. His fur is well-kept and a shade of stony gray, criss-crossed along with multiple scarrings from past battles. One particularly long scar drags along from his left shoulder and down to his loins, gifted from a border skirmish as an apprentice. Despite his marring, Kestrelstorm has a sort of masculine grace that halos him ruggedly. Dark tabby striping are also swirled all around his short-furred pelt, dappling into spotting by his legs and allowing him to hide safely within shadowy foliage. His paws and the tip of his tail is tinged slightly with a snowy white as well.
The FrostClan tom keeps his pelt clean from burrs and dead leaves, but only when there are no other duties to be done. He puts the importance of his job far before himself. Kestrelstorm is also a broad-shouldered and long-legged tom, who stands a little taller than most cats. He is lightly muscled, with an agile and flexible build that gives him an advantage over opponents that may use brute force over speed. Despite sporting a heavy build, his sweeping steps are elegant and light.
Kestrelstorm's eyes are a deep, bright shade of amber. They can be compared to clear honey or dripping sap from maple trees. They often hold a stern expression within them, and hardly ever let up this authoritative facade.




PERSONALITY:

complex / practical / distant
90% ISTJ & 10% INFJ


Kestrelstorm owns a quiet demeanour. He isn’t shy, but he prefers to use this to carefully analyze what is around his and only speaks up when needed. He isn’t the nicest person ever, yet he isn’t the meanest. However, he is polite to most, and will keep his professionalism around others. The warrior owns an attitude that is quietly forceful and demanding, which allows his to achieve what he wishes. Kestrelstorm is apt to judge others on appearances and not appreciate strangeness. He enjoys being in solitude, and you’ll never hear his talking about his own feelings. While thoroughly introverted, Kestrelstorm can become quickly aggressive. Enigmatic, he is a thoroughly a solitary being who prefers being alone.

It is very rare to see Kestrelstorm loose his temper, but it is common to see Kestrelstorm irritable and sharp tongued when heavily aggravated. He is not spontaneous, follows a strict schedule every day, and is usually in a serious mood. Concrete and very hard to read. He becomes uncomfortable around large crowds and deeply enjoys being alone or with a few trusted people. His trust is given to a choice few. Normally stable in calm conditions, he is a heavily realistic authority who expects others under his control to behave appropriately and efficiently. Double checks and thorough examinations are frequent before continuing with plans and duties. Kestrelstorm hardly ever praises others, and will brutally chastise those who sulk because of this. Cold and hard as stone, yet industrious and reliable. The warrior owns an intelligent mind that keeps accurate storage of memories and minute details, all in the while keeping vigilant and quick thinking. He also owns a persevering nature with no room with any sort of lack of diligence, making his an excellent choice for leader. He is confident in himself, and will never take the words of othiss in accord. Only moderately aggressive, Kestrelstorm may appear more hostile by throwing you a hard, signature glare.

Naturally, thise is a true reason behind his coldness. Compassion is seen as a weakness to most in the harsh world, and there was one point when the warrior had cared too much for who he loved. Kestrelstorm has the intense fear of being replaced, and therefore refuses to let others grow bonds with his. Any prickle of sympathy for others is puhed away with disgust. Staying professional and proficient at many tasks, he’ll often overwork himself to never be replaced, hardly with a sense of self.


HISTORY

His mother was a FrostClan she-cat named Cedarcloud, while his father was also a FrostClan member called Falconwing. He had a male littermate as well, who grew up to become Rowanfur. Rowanfur and Kestrelstorm were the closest pair of sibling that you would ever wish to see, always hunting or fighting side by side. The day that they both received their warrior names together was a proud one.

Kestrelstorm lived a fairly average life up to adulthood, that was filled with mossballs during kittenhood and good hunting during his apprenticeship. He excelled in his tracking skills, whether it was tracking the trail of prey-scent or the fear-scent of a rouge, and he was then on seen as one of the forest's best trackers.
He really did use to be a compassionate and caring tom. While on border patrols, he was apt to nicely ask a stray kittypet or rouge to leave quickly instead of unsheathing his claws. He believed that spilling blood was not the answer to any sort of problem.

The hardships of leafbare are too much for rouges to bare through, sometimes. A harsh snow drift had pressed its way through FrostClan during Kestrelstorm's first year after becoming a warrior. A rouge had settled himself within the threshold of FrostClan's territory, claiming an abandoned foxhole for himself. Kestrelstorm and Rowanfur were set to deal with the intruder themselves, seeing that one half-starved rouge couldn't cause much trouble. How very wrong they were, for underestimating their enemy. Kestrelstorm followed the stale scent of rouge up to the foxhole, and the rouge refused to leave despite Kestrelstorm's politeness. Why would the old rouge leave, as he owned nothing else but that makeshift shelter?
Rowanfur snapped, "This isn't something that can't be solved with words. Watch me deal with him, Kestrelstorm, so you can learn after!"
The warrior and rouge were pitted against each other, sharing equal strength from the lack of nourishment during the grips of leafbare. While the rouge was heavily injured and chased off into unclaimed territory, Rowanfur had the nape of his neck heavily bitten in by the incisors of the rouge.
He died before Kestrelstorm could call upon FrostClan's medicine cat. The tom still regrets that very day, and wishes to return back to those times to aid his brother in the fight. Kestrelstorm is no longer the type to talk through problems anymore. In fact, he has distanced himself from all others to never feel the pain of losing a loved one ever again.

RP SAMPLE:
A sleek she-cat poked out behind from a rusty frond, her head tilted up to the sky and her muscles tense. The she-cat's name was Morningeyes, and she was presently rearing on her hind legs to launch herself skyward. Up in the clear morning sky that was stretching across the ocean of grassy moorland, the sun was slowly riding up high - chasing away any stars that forgot to leave with the moon and the night sky. A beautiful sight that was missed by many, apart from Morningeyes' own sensitivity to aesthetics.
The stiff breeze rustled the moor's grasses and the warrior's short-haired pelt. It smelled and musty and cold, the she-cat made the hypothesis that the wind had come rolling off from the mountains. Leafbare was to arrive soon. Her whiskers quivered as the draft continued to blow strongly, but she was still in the reared position.
Her powerful backlegs quickly sprung into the air, her black paws outstretched with her glinting claws unsheathed. Morningeyes landed back onto a sparse patch of grass with a dull thud and her prey helplessly gripped in her clasp, pierced through with one claw. She was victorious, and then she rolled one paw to its side. Her kill was a spruce leaf that had been drifting along in the breath of mountain wind, its' skin was dappled brown and a mixture of copper and crimson. It had been a waste of energy, yes, but the heap of freshkill back in WindClan camp was heavy, her apprentices were soon to recieve their warrior names, and there were no enemy cats around. She was free to use her energy as she wished.
Morningeyes leaped back onto her paws with vitality pulsing through her bloodsteam, her tangerine eyes gleaming. The black warrior's face was upturned to the sky again, seeing the sun was still making its way to the highest point of the sky. The crystal heavens were unbroken by any fluffy clouds, so it promised a hot day.

She continued to stalk her territory, her belly scraping low on the sedgey turf as she loped around hills and slid down slopes. Her quick paws were careful to avoid any pebbles she may tumble, dirt she may scrape or leaves she may rustle, although she wasn't looking for live prey. Leaves and dandelion fluff were just as tricky to catch too, sometimes.
While helping a shiny-shelled beetle out of the tangle of a spider's web, a new breeze rolled by. This time, it carried a crisp-looking oak leaf, riding away in the air like a RiverClan cat paddling through a shallow creek. It strayed dangerously close to the RiverClan border, but the enemy warriors couldn't attack her for trying to catch a leaf, it wasn't real prey like a russet squirrel or a soft-furred hare.
Morningeyes continued her easy gallops, soon reaching the RiverClan border. The oak leaf had seemingly vanished, but her vivid carrot-coloured eyes caught sight of a new cat. The scent rolling off from the new stranger told the black warrior that it was a she-cat, no older than 6 moons, and from RiverClan. Not a threat at all, perhaps just a lost kit on an adventure.
"What's a little cat like you doing so close to WindClan's border?" she called out, without any hostility in her posh voice. "Well, Nevermind that. I'm Morningeyes, warrior of WindClan." the sleek warrior took long strides towards the creamy brown she-cat, hoping that she was friendly.

Note. I know that RP sample wasn't pertaining to Kestrelstorm himself, but it's one of my favourites.

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[Fern ♥]

Accepted!!!