โlarge, long-haired black tom with amber eyesโ
Image Credits - x xโโโ
[Basics]Name: Smoketail
Smoke - For his thick black fur, and stinging
personality.
Tail - For his long, plume-like tail. Like a column
of smoke.
Age: 43 moons (3 years, 7 months)
Gender: Tom
Clan: AshClan, former MarshClan
Rank: Warrior
Rank Desired: Senior Warrior
Apprentice:
Sexuality: Demirom/sexual, hetero lean
Health: Patchy fur on his chest and forelegs from minor
burns sustained during the fires.
Song: Sleeping at Last - Eight
โโโ [Relationships]Kin:
Mother - Emberstorm
Father - Sleetpelt
Former Mate - Marigoldsong
Kits - Scorchkit, Ploverkit, Goldenkit
Clan Relations:
Crush - Maybe in the future, but for now he's still grieving.
Mentors - Railfeather, Peatfur
Former Apprentices - Sunmuzzle, Newtpool
Likes - Sunmuzzle, Tawnystrike
Dislikes - Snowstar, Rosethunder
Sleeping at Last|Eight wrote:When I see fragile things,
helpless things, broken things
I see the familiar
I was little, I was weak, I was perfect too
Now I'm a broken mirror.
But I can't let you see all that I have to lose
All I've lost in the fight to protect it
I can't let you in- I swore never again
I can't afford to let myself be blindsided.
I'm standing guard, I'm falling apart.
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โโโ [Description]
Skulking around with heavy shoulders and a sharp eye,
Smoketail intimidates most kits and apprentices. Thick,
obsidian black fur covers his burly frame, with dark umber
tips along his back. His amber eyes are often half-closed
in exasperation and distrust. His most distinctive feature
is his tall, plume-like tail, which flares upward when he
gets annoyed. He has some Maine Coon ancestry.
โโโ [Personality]
With a mouth full of bile, Smoketail isnโt here to make friends
and put up pleasantries. His sarcasm stings and his claws sting
even more. Withdrawn and purposeless, the tom shields himself
in his intimidating facade. Smoketail has lost almost everyone
he ever loved and fought to protect. He refuses to let his guard
down for anyone again. Now he just goes through the motions,
duty-bound to the last of his clan. But why should he care?
Smoketail will follow Snowstarโs orders up to a point, burying
his grief in his duties, but his loyalty lies only to Tawnystrike.
It is no secret that he despises StormClan, opposing the decision
to join clans. A strong adherent to the warrior code, he tends
to be very traditional in mindset. The warrior's greatest assets
are his strength and stealth. Perhaps with sufficient motivation,
he could find some new purpose to fight for.
โโโ [History]
Smoketail has always been alone. Born to Emberstorm, a molly who never wanted kits, he arrived as an accident. She loved her mate Sleetpelt, not the annoying kit they had together. His mother did everything a queen should do, feeding him, keeping him warm, teaching him to speak. But nothing more. The connection simply wasnโt there. True to his name, his father Sleetpelt was cold and grim. He had high expectations for the kit who bore his bloodline. As soon as Smokekit could walk, Sleetpelt had him practice pouncing on moss balls so he could become the strongest warrior. He forbade him from joining the other kits in their mouse-brained fun. With no littermates, Smokekit often looked upon their sibling games with thinly veiled jealousy.
When he left the Nursery, Emberstorm turned tail and returned to her warrior duties without a second look at him. Smokepaw was assigned to a kind molly named Railfeather. At first the sullen tom did his best to learn and follow her instructions. But no matter what he did, he could never earn the praise and attention of his parents. So he gave up on it all. He didnโt talk except to talk back, every word laced with venom. He lashed out at his mentor enough times to even make the gentle molly lose her temper. She didnโt know what to do with the unruly apprentice. Smokepaw was reassigned to Peatfur, an experienced old tom. Peatfur believed firmly in the Warrior Code, instilling these same values into his apprentice. While things didnโt go too well at first, it was around then that he began to make a friend: Marigoldpaw, a bright molly who was apprenticed to Peatfurโs brother. Their mentors often brought them to train and go on patrols together. Eventually, the cheery apprentice wore down his walls. She inspired him to try.
After they became warriors, they remained best friends and later on became mates. In her and in the code, he found purpose. While he was still his sarcastic old self, he applied his stubbornness to his duties. He devoted everything to MarshClan. He struggled with his first apprentice Sunpaw, but they taught each other to move on and grow from their mistakes. Being chosen to mentor the leader's son was a great responsibility. Smoketail found himself being too harsh on the energetic apprentice, getting irritated time and time again. He slowly improved, learning to care for and guide his apprentice. They remained friends after Sunmuzzle's warrior ceremony, with Smoketail becoming quite protective of the younger cat after his injury. Almost like a little brother, Sunmuzzle still brightens his day (and annoys him). When Marigoldsong told him how much she wanted kits, Smoketail saw this as a chance to do better than his parents had. He was terrified that heโd mess this up. He tried to apply what he learned to his second apprentice Newtpaw, offering the patience and support of a father so he could be prepared for his own kits. When the three little ones were born, Smoketail thought that finally, finally, things would be getting betterโฆ
And then the fires consumed it all. His beloved mate, his kits, his clan, his purpose. Everything he had ever worked toward, everyone he had ever let his guard down long enough to love. Alone again. He had been out hunting at the time, returning to find a wall of flame in place of his home. Desperate, he flailed around to find the nursery but did not make it far before the fire burned his legs. Another warrior dragged him out to safety, forcing him to follow Tawnystar to the MoonTree. Then StormClan took them in, with their scorn under a facade of mercy. They took whatever prey they could scrounge up, drove his clan to its last breaths. Well, they can take whatโs left of his clan. They can take whatโs left of his smoldering marshes. But they can never take his loyalty.
