Picture : Snow Leopard:
Click!Click!Paladin:
Click!Click! Name : Paladin Whitewood (Paladin)
“The word "paladin" is used to describe a benevolent, heroic champion, or the defender of a good cause.” – Wikipedia
Whitewood is a family name passed down to Paladin from his adoptive mother, Stain. It’s origins most likely came from the white bark of a birch tree. It bears not much relevance to Paladin as it is not his true family’s name. Gender : Male
Age : 20
Clan : None. Perhaps, once upon a time.
Rank : Loner of the New Lands
Description : Paladin is a white tom, his pelt grazed by various rings and spots all the way to the tip of his tail. With the squint of an eye, he looks incredibly like the ancient inhabitants of the snowy area he live in – snow leopards. He is not of pure breed, but one might suspect a hint of silver spotted Egyptian mau, Bengal or ocicat in his ancestral line.
Paladin has very pale colored eyes. So pale, it looks silver. He knows not if it’s a warm shade of silver or a icy cool color, like the winter grounds he live on for it changes color as it reflects the sky on different parts of the day. On some days when it’s hotter than usual, when the sun is up, his eyes will glow a shade of amber, reflecting the sunny sky it looks upon. And when it’s dark and cold out, it turns into a pale midnight blue.
He has a strong jaw, firm enough to look confident and unwavering in anything he might say. His teeth on his underjaw slightly longer than those of normal cats. His nose a dark saturated pink in color and the bridge of his nose is flatter than most cats, though not too exaggerated. His snout is also more protruding too. Because of this features, he looks like a miniature wolf whenever he scowls, making him all the more fearsome. His grow is a deep rumble, his meows are of bass notes. His tone confirming, demanding, commanding; like he knew what he wanted since the day he was born.
His spots – rosettes, more like, are a deep grey color. It grew from a pale shade of grey, as it was younger, to a darker color as he matures. And along the long line of his back bone these rosettes split, and in return a dark continuous line run down his back right to the tip of his tail. Unlike the short yet thick pelt he’s obtained, being a winter cat, the dark patch of fur along his back is longer and fluffier, comparable to a hyena’s.
After moons of enduring harsh blizzard winds and unforgiving landscape of the winter valley he lives in, Paladin has earned a bulk muscular physique for himself. His muscles mainly gather at his shoulders, giving Paladin a mature and strong look. Other than that, his legs and thigh muscles are also one of the most trained in his home lands (before the clans arrived). This gives him the opportunity for easy lifting on mountain terrain and of course, an upper hand in battle where he would bring his big hooked black claws on his opponent like an avalanche. They’ll never know what hit ‘em.
Lastly, his tail is one of the most longest and thickest of those of cats. It’s long - almost one and a half of Paladin’s body length. It is coated in spots and rings like his pelt except for that one particular tip, which is much furrier, and plainly white. And when he sway his tail (which he rarely does, for it’s very heavy) it looks somewhat like a torch of white fire. It’s quite a bother, Paladin thinks, for it unbalances him during hunting or any well... balancing acts. However, he does give it credit for helping him balance when climbing rocky slopes or those of that kind. Well, Paladin realizes, life is irony.
Personality : According to books and “professional” information, the personality of a perfect leader is best described as decisive, fair, vigilant, responsible and humble.
Paladin has all traits.
Not exactly, but the time he spent in the wild on his own have made him into a cat that is always wary and domineering to others. You see, his survival depends on it. That, and the fact that it’s his nature to be naturally aggressive. However, he does have his weak times. But he refrains from showing it to anyone but his adopted daughter, Skunk. And even then, he rarely does so and only in the mildest way possible.
Though he obviously show his aggressive and domineering side quite often (it’s all about his masculinity, he is at that age… or so), he is mostly quite quiet. If he’s not talking to anyone around him, or does not find the need too, he has this calm expression, like he’s seemingly detached from the world. And he is often quiet too. In fact, even Skunk, whom Paladin love like his daughter, have a hard time convincing him to at least show some expression when they’re together.
They say he’s Prince. They call him royalty. Is he? He knows not. But having heard numerous rumors about some legend his mother never told, he began to believe. He began to see the world in his royal light. He began to act his part. That was how he survived the darkest days of growing up – the death of Badger and Stain. He began to have the perception that no one could live with him. So he isolated himself. He only let loose when Skunk crossed his path. The she-kit who looked incredibly like his old den mate… it’s Badger all over again. And so he adopted her. Even though he knew she’ll leave him one day. But he couldn’t let go of his past, he couldn’t let go of the warm feeling inside him. He couldn’t let go the need to care.
Reverting back to the death of his adoptive family – he became a quiet tom, a real loner. He drilled the idea of him being all-powerful and all-royal into his head, believing he’s the savior of the world, or something similar. That’s when Kismet happened. Kismet is the voice in his head. At least, that’s what it called itself. He’d never tell others, he’d never say he’s slowly going crazy… cause that’s what the others will think of him. No, as royalty, he has to keep his dignity.
But never will he admit that Kismet was a source of comfort. Being lonely isn’t easy and being tough can take it’s toll. He’ll never admit that overtime, he grew fond of the strange yet calm melody in his head. At that point, it was his only friend. Strange, odd, weird – a sign of weakness Paladin won’t admit. Perhaps this voice in his head is made up out trinkets of information of rumors he collected of random passerbys, perhaps it was made up to comfort his lonely heart, aching from the loss of the only people he knew. But then again, there’s no harm in having an imaginary friend… is there?
History : It happened a long time ago when the lands of cold were still ruled by the three kings of Ice - the Arctic Foxes, the Polar Bears, and the Snow Leopards. There was once peace, but it wasn’t long before each animal kingdom wanted more that they can have - territory. And the wars started.
The first to go was the small yet many critters of the FoxClan, blessed with many numbers, yet the little arctic foxes could not defend themselves from the never ending battles with their larger counterparts - the Polar Bears and the Snow Leopards. And fled, they did. And so the war waged on, between the giant, muscular BearClan and the Lithe and Agile LeopardClan.
The war went on for what seems like forever, and after enough blood was shed to fill a river, and dead bodies lay atop another to form a mountain. StarClan above, the Clan of the Fallen decided to end the war with their own starry paws.
A blizzard lasting for 7 season cycles and 7 moons long was casted on the land of ice, killing many of BearClan and LeopardClan, till there were only a handful of beings in each clan. LeopardClan dissolved with the harsh winds blowing into their camps. And they separated, heading south, and leaving their Widowed Queen all alone to guard her territory. No, Kismet wanted to go with her Clanmates, she really did. But...
She was 3 moons pregnant. She would give birth soon. And after that, she has to care for her newborn kits. She looked sadly toward the south, where the rest of her clan was headed. Her golden eyes glittered in the snow with depression. She was not ready to travel. And she won’t be in a long time. Kismet snuggled deeper into her den – a hollow in the rocks, a perfect place to shelter her and her kits from the harsh winds of the blizzard. Her thick and fluffy tail curled up around her swollen belly, warming the unborn from the cold. And there she slept, dreaming about what her clan once was.
On the other side of the land of ice, the King of BearClan paced around in his cave-den. The topmost warriors who had just came back from their border patrol sitting around the half excited, half agitated king. They had reported what they seen in the LeopardClan territory, the lone queen and the leaving warriors. And with their King’s reaction, they knew it was time for one final war.
”It is time we claimed that territory for our own!” The white bear king yelled.
”But first! To celebrate our victory, we’ll kill the Leopard Queen – Kismet!” And they left for the hunt.
She was not stupid, Kismet wasn’t. Those large snowy bears couldn’t even hide properly even if they were invisible. She saw the large paw marks they left even under the blizzard, and heard the harsh bear-calls only the warriors of the loud BearClan would bother doing in such weather. But she was too smart for them, and she managed to avoid them for more than half a moon, and when she settled, she knew it was time – her birthing had come.
One. She had one healthy prince; a young cub who she had not found the time to name. It didn’t matter, as long as she could care for him and see him grow up to be the next King of the dissipated LeopardClan – he would find his own loyal warriors, she knew, for he was born king of the righteous, StarClan had told her.
But alas, she was only blessed to be with her son for a week before she had BearClan intruders hot on her trail. Her son, still unnamed, was still too young to leave the cave. She knew she had no choice.... she had to fight.
Claws fight Claws, Fang fight Fang. It was Kismet’s misfortune that the bear tracking her was the Bear King himself- the most ruthless and powerful of all Polar Bears. But for the sake of her son, she fought, even though she was still weak from her birthing. She lasted in battle until sundown, where the poor queen finally collapsed in defeat; blood marks stained her pelt like horror in the snow. And when the Bear King had roared his victory and left, she looked towards the hollow cave, where her son resided, and whispered.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you my son. May StarClan guide you in your new life.” Thus began her journey into StarClan.
A day after that, the merciful StarClan granted the young prince a painless falling into an everlasting sleep in Silverpelt.
=====
When he woke up, a young kit, perhaps a few weeks old found himself in cavern, with no memories of his father, mother, or anything that had happen before he woke. His glimmering pelt, stained with tabby marks, spots and rings matched the snowy rocky surroundings he was on. His eyes were still a kit-blue – that was how young he was. Curious, and with a belly burning with hunger as though he had never eaten for seasons, he walked out into the snow, heading to nowhere in particular.
Until he reached a structure made out of wood.
”Maybe it’s a funny looking tree!” The kit had thought, and continued on to explore it.
=====
A queen was feeding her kit, while soothing her hyperactive child with a tale passed down by many generations. So long, that it was considered a myth; a legend. A tale about a leopard prince.
”What happened to the prince, moma?” The black and white tom-kit inquired, his mouth stained with milk. Gently, the queen bent to lick her little one clean.
”I don’t know, Badger.” She told her child.
”Some say he grew to be a big, strong tom, and found the Bear King and killed him in revenge.” Badger leaned closer to his mother, listening intensively.
”Some say he died the second time from the harsh cold winds.” “And some say he is still roaming the world, in search of his mother, and a way to get back with her in the heavens above.” She smiled at her kit, whose eyes grew bigger with every word she said.
CLUNK!Both mother and son pricked their ears in alert. The sound came from the opening where the two legs used to keep their fragile flat saucers.
”Stay here, Badger.” The she-cat nudged her tiny son under a clothed chair, away from view.
”Don’t make a sound.” Taking one last look to ensure that her son is safe, she went out to explore the kitchen.
=====
”What is your name, little one.” The she-tabby asked when she saw the little kit rummaging through the twoleg den, looking for what she assumed was food. She dropped a freshly killed mouse at his feet, hoping he could digest the large prey, being that young and all. He co.cked his head,
”My name?” He asked no one in particular. He’d never really thought about it.
”I don’t know. I guess... I don’t have one.” He meowed raspily before stuffing his face with chunks of prey.
The she-cat stared at him in pity.
Which mother in the world would leave her kit out and alone in the cold. She understands, she’s nursing Badger herself. And it was then that the thought came.
”Then I shall adopt you, little one.” She padded forward to give the hungry kit a few licks on between his ears.
”From this day onwards, your name shall be... Paladin, Paladin Whitewood.” Relationships : Stain Whitewood– Adoptive Mother, died of old age
Badger Whitewood– Friend, died in a freak accident during a thunderstorm
Skunk Whitewood– Small kit found when he was hunting for prey for his ‘mother’, he decided to adopt her.
Kismet – The voice in his head. >_>
Role-Play : ”Father! Father!”A black and white she cat ran up to the small wooden stature with a moon at half it’s glory embedded at it’s walls. She was excited to greet her father and tell him about the things she’d experience today… in a small gathering of cats in this territory. It’s more of a gossip group really, but this was different. This was news.
The young she cat pranced happily towards the doors of the Twoleg wooden stature, peeking her head in but no one was about. The only thing she can detect was the faint smell of a familiar cat.
Maybe father has gone hunting. A pang of guilt pricked at her heart. She had told him she’d go hunting with him again. That and she promised him she won’t go out of the nest until she was a ripe 6 moons old. Yet, even after countless of lectures from her adoptive father, she still remained stubborn and constantly joined the morning gossip groups. But it’s not that much her fault than her father’s, really. All he ever does was hunt, fight and sleep, all alone in a lonely part of the Half-moon inn, with no one about other than herself. She had to have a social life! And when her father was out hunting or patrolling his territory, she was often alone in the barn with nothing to do. It grew tiring after time, so started her sneak-outs.
Yet she didn’t want to disappoint her father all the same. Even though he wasn’t her real father, he did raise her like a true dad and she would consider no other being a better father. And that was all there was to it. She peeked in a hole in one of the mini dens of the structure, one of the rooms. Still, nothing. She grumbled. And headed back to where the tom and his adoptive daughter made their nests. She fluffed herself next to a puffy sack filled with bird feathers and curled herself on it. She’d heard many stories on how the horrid and evil the Twolegs are, but she had to admit, they have a way of creating comfort.
”Skunk!”The she cat arose fully, from her drift into slumber.
”I was only resting my eyes!” She yowled, recognizing the voice. She knew her father disliked her sleeping in after dawn break, said it makes her lazy.
The spotted white tom just gave a growl of irritancy, and proceeded to drop a day’s meal worth of freshkill at the corner of their nests. It wasn’t about his daughter sleeping habits that snapped a cord in him this time, it’s the fact that she was out… again.
”Where have you been. I thought I told you to stay in our nest. He growled.
”But I have nothing to do here!” The younger cat whined.
”You’re too young to be out!” Paladin told his daughter with a tone of finality in his voice.
”But…” She continued, but couldn’t find a way to counter his reasoning. So she lowered her head in submission. Then she remembered.
”I was about to tell you, Father! I heard a great news from the Morning hunters today!” She started excited.
The big tom showed no signs of interest in her so called “Big News”. Instead, he chewed on a small mice he brought back this morning, signaling with his tail for his daughter to eat.
So that’s where she’s running off too in the mornings huh? Those bunch of mousebrains who gossip better than they hunt. Maybe I should teach them a lesson, coaxing my daughter, an underaged kitten who is not old enough to roam these dangerous lands by herself.Skunk leaped down the springy platform held up by a few wooden blocks and took her pick out of the fresh kill pile. Finally taking a juicy vole from the pile, she went to her father so she can eat and share tongues.
Anyway, as I was saying… She mumbled as she took tiny bites out of her meal.
Peanut and the others were talking about new cats coming in our territory and stealing our lands and it’s prey! They said they were too many of them and that it was impossible to chase them away. She meowed excitedly quickly as she gulped down mouthfuls of vole.
Paladin just snorted.
”Peanut couldn’t take down small hawk even at his best.” He calmly told his daughter. Peanut and his gang have always relied on Paladin to chase out intruders in his territory.
”And don’t always believe in gossip. Cats lie to make themselves feel better.” He told his daughter and took a bit out of his meal.
But Skunk violently shook her head.
”It’s not this time Father! Peanut showed me.” She remembered standing up on one of the mountain’s cliffs as Peanut and his gang showed her the valley.
”The valley! It’s filled with cats! Dozens! Even Hundreds, Paladin! So many colours…” She remembered looking down at the rainbow haven beneath her feet. Imagine! She won’t be alone anymore, with so many cats to interact with. She didn’t need to defy her father’s orders and hang out with Peanut anymore.
At this, Paladin gave a twitch of his ears. He could dismiss weird news if it was from Peanut’s mouth, but Skunk had said she saw them. A mass gathering of cats from who knows where. He narrowed his eyes at his daughter.
”Are you sure?” And he got an immediate reply of a black and white head violent nod. But still, it was hard to believe. It sounds like something out from one of the stories Stain, his mother, have told him.
It is true, Paladin. A voice in his head sounded.
The clans have come. Shut up. Paladin growled. He hated the intrusion called Kismet who apparently lived in his head. But he accepted defeat.
”Fine then, finish up your vole then you shall show me where these cats of mass numbers are.” He told his daughter in a deep growl and proceeded to clean his bloody claws, from the meal, that is.
Skunk gleamed. They were going to see these strange cats!
Motto/Themesong : Five is the number of lives I have took
Four is the bloodstained claws I have shook
Three is the family which I never had
Two is the life of my slowly fading debt
One is the heart of gold I have made
The neverending torture from which it creates
All but one of deaths I shall partake
A hero for some; Yet a slave to fate.
((BWAAHAHAHA. 3 MONTHS WORTH <3))
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