Mudthroat [FINISHED]

[whitefoot]

[Mudthroat!!]
[soil mixed with water to create a sloppy substance!!]

[tomcat!!]
[shadowclan!!]
[24 moons!!]
[warrior!!]

____________[LOOKS]

Mudthroat's fur is very resembling to his prefix, and can blend into his environment well on a muddy, rainy day. However, more often than not, days are fair and he sticks out like a sore thumb. His dark pelt is slashed with even darker stripes, which begin to fade at his belly and chest, where the dark tones begin to lighten to reveal that he is not just a clod of mud. His paws also lighten slightly at the toes. And speaking of paws, his are surprisingly small, almost feminine when you think about it. And that seems to apply with all of his features. His long, thin legs and rickety body curve at just the right places, and just enough to make him seem a she-cat. However, his eyes, which are bright amber and laced with a darker yellow, seem to disspell the femininity. They stand out quite harshly against his dark, shadowy brown pelt.

____________[PERSONA]

Mudthroat is a very cheery man. His sanguine nature serves as a soothing incense to tightly wound cats, and his genial fun-lovingness can lighten the hearts of even the most grumpy cats. Or atleast he'd like to think so. But even if his cheeriness didn't help anyone, he couldn't stop being who he is. Mudthroat is naturally light-hearted, and at times, very immature. The Puller of Pranks is he, and he just can't help it, even if he gets punished. Whether it's rolling dung into someone's bedding or scaring someone to StarClan and above, he spends a goot portion of time playing practical jokes on his fellow ShadowClanners. Why? Because if he tries to hunt or fight off intruders, he usually screws up and scares away the prey or ends up talking with the foreign cat. Bad luck always seems to follow him wherever he walks, trailing behind him like the tail of a comet.

____________[HISTORY]

Barkheart was, as they say, a Jack-of-all-trades. He was the idol warrior for any cat, and had many, er-hem, female "admirers". He was the stud-muffin of ShadowClan, an excellent hunter, a perfect fighter. He enstilled fear in every opponent, cut down all obstacles, and was also the first choice in a patrol that shooed away pesky predators like dogs or foxes. Not to mention, he had the good looks, too. Dark brown fur, piercing yellow eyes, muscular build. He was a candidate for deputy, definitely, except there was already one at that time.
Barkheart had many kits, mostly from just fooling around with his.. um.. "admirers". So many I did not bother to list them all. No, the only litter that matters is the one Mudthroat was born from, the one between Barkheart and Wrenfoot. Wrenfoot was a modest young orange and black tortie she-cat, who was wooed into the forest by Barkheart one night. And that was where it all started. Wrenfoot became pregnant with his kits, and one frigid Leaf-fall morning, ShadowClan was bestowed with three fine kittens with the blood of their greatest warrior. Again.
Mudkit was the only of the litter to resemble his father, whereas his two sisters - Emberkit and Patchkit - were replicas of his mother. "This one will be fine," Barkheart had said, (fine as in exceptional) eyeballing the single kit to have his handsome fur, and later, upon opening, his eyes as well. Everyone seemed to believe his words, too. He looked like his father, came to admire him. It was only natural he act and fight like his father.
Boy, did they get a nice little surprise.
A nice, clumsy little surprise.
When it came time to be apprentices, Mudpaw was assigned an old hag of a mentor. She worked him, and worked him hard. But no matter how many sessions of battling or hunting, he never seemed to get any better. "Scaring away all the prey," Darknose, his mentor, would complain to all of the warriors. "Fighting like a kittypet,". "Nothing like you," she stated to his father, constantly. The fact that he really was nothing like his father was proved one night, six moons later. The night of asessment.
Everything went unsually lucky. Mudpaw hadn't scared away all the prey with his careless footwork, hadn't missed the chance to kill that crow that alighted on a mossy log. Hadn't hurt himself in the process of not having done all the things he usually did, which was fortunate for him, because his mentor had a keen eye that never left his little brown butt. Except for one horrific instant.
Squirrel. At the foot of a tree. Nibbling nuts. Unaware. Mudpaw had registered all that in the moment before he sprang for the little creature, claws ready, mouth parted to recieve soft flesh. Without realizing it, since it was almost instinctual, he propelled himself up the tree that the squirrel was under, chasing the prey to the topmost branches! Okay, not really the topmost.. more like the third branch he came in contact with, because as soon as he lit on the limb he panicked, releasing the squirrel - which he had indeed caught. The food seemed to spring back to life, and then spring right into the air and land expertly on the neighvoring oak. Mudpaw glowered as it chattered, almost laughing, it seemed, at him from a hollow den in the oak. The prey mocked the predator, the hunted became the.. helpless.
Mudpaw wailed like a kit most of the night, but not before trying to sum up the courage to leap down to the ground. But every time he flexed his back legs to jump, he remembered having seen a baby bird fall from its nest just two nights ago. It plummeted from its home tree and slammed into the ground with a sickening crack of its spine. It wasn't ready to fly.
And neither was he.
The next morning, Mudpaw was starving and dirty and rather indignated. He was a cat. Cats climbed up trees. Why could't he just.. climb back down? Not jump down, but ease himself to the ground by sliding down the trunk? Ha. Haha. How ridiculous. The hunger must have been affecting his brain to develop such a strange idea.. so strange.. so strange it just might be plausible. He grappled his claws into the bark, and began to slowly, very slowly, make his descent.
Immediately he knew it wouldn't work. The bark scraped away at his belly, drawing blood at times, and the strain on his claws made him yowl with pain. Upon reaching the branch second fromt he forest floor, he slumped down and licked his belly to clot and clean the bloodied scrapes there. Next morning, he could almost swear his belly was shrieking louder than he was. The morning after that was torture. But the afternoon of the following day, the fourth day, it was perfect. Wonderfull, and yet extraordinarily horrid.
A search patrol had found him! Joy! Thanks to StarClan! The only downside was that his father was the leader of the patrol, and that dark brown warrior glared him down the whole way back to camp. Mudpaw's stomach burned savagely, and it wasn't because of the hunger.
After that, his training was lengthened by a moon and a third, so he became a warrior at nearly 14 moons old. No much happened after that terrible night. His clan-mates developed a scorn for him, and he developed a reputation for his pranks.
THE END<3

____________[IC]

NO LORD NO

____________[FAMILY]

Barkheart father
Wrenfoot mother
Emberpelt sister
Patchface sister

____________[PASSWORD]

Aurora

[Crane]

I love his history xD So funneh. Acceped~