Post by Toxyk on May 31, 2013 20:21:14 GMT -6
PERSONALITY
________
Oh the many different flavors of Littlemoth....although I guess flavors isn't the most appropriate of words. Littlemoth is a complex little cat, living in a huge world. His thoughts can range from delicate to mutinous so fast, even StarClan cannot gather it. Of course, to understand why Littlemoth is the way he is, that would require going into his past, a place he prefers not to dwell in. So just what makes Littlemoth..well...Littlemoth? Let us see...
For the most part, and most days, many would describe Littlemoth as a small and meek individual. And that is both in size and in nature. More often than not Littlemoth doesn't really speak to many cats, and he prefers it that way. When thrown into patrols he usually keeps his mouth shut. And they saw all ShadowClan cats are brave and bold. For Littlemoth...yes and no.
He really is quiet most of the time. A pushover. Don't want to do something? Send the apprentice size warrior Littlemoth to do it. He won't fight back, and he'll do it in record time no doubt. It's always been this way for him, and he doesn't really see a need to change anything. Well. Most of the time at least.
But you see...sometimes a dark part of Littlemoth emerges. One that is vicious, cruel and bloody. Sometimes his mind will snap in two, and the shadowy voice in the back of his mind begins to stir, biting at the chance to be set free. Some would call it crazy, Littlemoth refers to it as "Fang". To put it simply, Littlemoth is a bit...schizophrenic.
When Fang rears his ugly head, Littlemoth struggles to keep the same. Don't want the clanmates to find out about that, oh no. Wouldn't do, wouldn't do at all. But Littlemoth wouldn't mind enacting some revenge on some cats...the sadistic part of his nature would love that indeed. Until that day comes, Littlemoth will keep playing the part of the kickbag.
HISTORY
_________
A history, a history, no more time for mystery. How did Littlemoth become to timid and yet so crazy? Well. Some of it has to deal with his birth.
Littlekit was born early. Not extremely so, but enough to cause him many problems. First off, he was tiny, even for a kit. It was a shock that he even managed to pull through and live, though his mother couldn't have been more proud that he had. Ah yes, his mother. A beautiful dark ginger she-cat by the name of Mothflame. No father to speak of though. Mothflame never told, and no tom stepped forward. Not that it mattered really. Littlekit was just fine as he was.
Though it was a long process, Littlekit began to recover little by little, excuse the wording but it is what it is. When he was declared well enough to stay in the nursery with everyone else...well...thats when things started to get a bit rocky. The other queens didn't want their kits around him, in case any of his coughs were contagious. Strike one.
But, like all kits, Littlekit amused himself in other ways. A constant supporter being Mothflame, forever and always. She was his only friend and constant companion until he became Littlepaw. Enter the big bad wolf.
Littlepaw was a bit undersized for an apprentice, but he made due. But his mentor on the other paw couldn't stand how puny he was. Wolfstep was a big old brute of a cat. Big, strong, and did I mention big? Nowadays Littlemoth thinks it was a cruel joke, paring the smallest cat with the biggest. Or maybe it was supposed to be inspiring.
Inspiring it was not. Wolfstep constantly made Littlemoth do excruciating tasks. When the other apprentices got to share tongues during dinner, Littlemoth was out training. He barely could catch a break, and when he did it seemed like a mere second before the routine set in once again. Strike two.
Of course, all apprentices want to have friends. And had Littlepaw put forth a bit more effort, maybe he would have made some. However young cats can be cruel, and most would call Littlepaw horrid names. One even stated he was as useful as a WindClan cat with no legs. Not sure what that meant exactly, but he knew enough to know it was hurtful.
Still, Mothflame was always there for her son. She gave him words of encouragement, and promised him the stars would always look down in his favor even when all hope seemed lost. When you're young an naive, it all seems to be real.
But the real test came after he finally completed his training.
Littlemoth was out on a border patrol when some cheeky ThunderClan cat's decided to test the borders. Normally an older and experienced warrior would try to figure out a solution that didn't resort to fighting. But Littlemoth was neither or those things. And with one snide comment, Littlemoth snapped. Strike three.
Blood roared through his veins, and a voice told him everything he needed to do to win. It took two of his own ShadowClan clanmates to pull him off the ThunderClan tom, and he was lucky to live. Killing is against the warrior code unless absolutely necessary. That had been necessary, right? Wrong.
Littlemoth was punished of course. It was then Littlemoth truly got to know "Fang". Most of the time Fang stays hidden, tucked away in the recesses where he can't be heard. Heck, Littlemoth had almost begun to think it was all made up until Mothflame died, and he returned, this time calling out StarClan for being cruel.
But life is cruel. Littlemoth has grown since then, not physically, but intellectually. He understands right from wrong, but wrong can be much more fun if you play your cards right. Now he is simply trying to be a good warrior, maintain the shy facade, and maybe, just maybe, try to make a friend or two. After all, life can get pretty dull without someone to talk to.
________
Oh the many different flavors of Littlemoth....although I guess flavors isn't the most appropriate of words. Littlemoth is a complex little cat, living in a huge world. His thoughts can range from delicate to mutinous so fast, even StarClan cannot gather it. Of course, to understand why Littlemoth is the way he is, that would require going into his past, a place he prefers not to dwell in. So just what makes Littlemoth..well...Littlemoth? Let us see...
For the most part, and most days, many would describe Littlemoth as a small and meek individual. And that is both in size and in nature. More often than not Littlemoth doesn't really speak to many cats, and he prefers it that way. When thrown into patrols he usually keeps his mouth shut. And they saw all ShadowClan cats are brave and bold. For Littlemoth...yes and no.
He really is quiet most of the time. A pushover. Don't want to do something? Send the apprentice size warrior Littlemoth to do it. He won't fight back, and he'll do it in record time no doubt. It's always been this way for him, and he doesn't really see a need to change anything. Well. Most of the time at least.
But you see...sometimes a dark part of Littlemoth emerges. One that is vicious, cruel and bloody. Sometimes his mind will snap in two, and the shadowy voice in the back of his mind begins to stir, biting at the chance to be set free. Some would call it crazy, Littlemoth refers to it as "Fang". To put it simply, Littlemoth is a bit...schizophrenic.
When Fang rears his ugly head, Littlemoth struggles to keep the same. Don't want the clanmates to find out about that, oh no. Wouldn't do, wouldn't do at all. But Littlemoth wouldn't mind enacting some revenge on some cats...the sadistic part of his nature would love that indeed. Until that day comes, Littlemoth will keep playing the part of the kickbag.
HISTORY
_________
A history, a history, no more time for mystery. How did Littlemoth become to timid and yet so crazy? Well. Some of it has to deal with his birth.
Littlekit was born early. Not extremely so, but enough to cause him many problems. First off, he was tiny, even for a kit. It was a shock that he even managed to pull through and live, though his mother couldn't have been more proud that he had. Ah yes, his mother. A beautiful dark ginger she-cat by the name of Mothflame. No father to speak of though. Mothflame never told, and no tom stepped forward. Not that it mattered really. Littlekit was just fine as he was.
Though it was a long process, Littlekit began to recover little by little, excuse the wording but it is what it is. When he was declared well enough to stay in the nursery with everyone else...well...thats when things started to get a bit rocky. The other queens didn't want their kits around him, in case any of his coughs were contagious. Strike one.
But, like all kits, Littlekit amused himself in other ways. A constant supporter being Mothflame, forever and always. She was his only friend and constant companion until he became Littlepaw. Enter the big bad wolf.
Littlepaw was a bit undersized for an apprentice, but he made due. But his mentor on the other paw couldn't stand how puny he was. Wolfstep was a big old brute of a cat. Big, strong, and did I mention big? Nowadays Littlemoth thinks it was a cruel joke, paring the smallest cat with the biggest. Or maybe it was supposed to be inspiring.
Inspiring it was not. Wolfstep constantly made Littlemoth do excruciating tasks. When the other apprentices got to share tongues during dinner, Littlemoth was out training. He barely could catch a break, and when he did it seemed like a mere second before the routine set in once again. Strike two.
Of course, all apprentices want to have friends. And had Littlepaw put forth a bit more effort, maybe he would have made some. However young cats can be cruel, and most would call Littlepaw horrid names. One even stated he was as useful as a WindClan cat with no legs. Not sure what that meant exactly, but he knew enough to know it was hurtful.
Still, Mothflame was always there for her son. She gave him words of encouragement, and promised him the stars would always look down in his favor even when all hope seemed lost. When you're young an naive, it all seems to be real.
But the real test came after he finally completed his training.
Littlemoth was out on a border patrol when some cheeky ThunderClan cat's decided to test the borders. Normally an older and experienced warrior would try to figure out a solution that didn't resort to fighting. But Littlemoth was neither or those things. And with one snide comment, Littlemoth snapped. Strike three.
Blood roared through his veins, and a voice told him everything he needed to do to win. It took two of his own ShadowClan clanmates to pull him off the ThunderClan tom, and he was lucky to live. Killing is against the warrior code unless absolutely necessary. That had been necessary, right? Wrong.
Littlemoth was punished of course. It was then Littlemoth truly got to know "Fang". Most of the time Fang stays hidden, tucked away in the recesses where he can't be heard. Heck, Littlemoth had almost begun to think it was all made up until Mothflame died, and he returned, this time calling out StarClan for being cruel.
But life is cruel. Littlemoth has grown since then, not physically, but intellectually. He understands right from wrong, but wrong can be much more fun if you play your cards right. Now he is simply trying to be a good warrior, maintain the shy facade, and maybe, just maybe, try to make a friend or two. After all, life can get pretty dull without someone to talk to.