Post by Otter on Aug 27, 2010 10:09:59 GMT -8
WHAT IS YOUR NAME?
Baldskin[/sub]
WHAT GENDER ARE YOU?
Tom[/sub]
HOW OLD ARE YOU?
Thirty Moons[/sub]
WHAT CLAN ARE YOU LOYAL TO?
WindClan[/sub]
WHAT IS YOUR RANK?
Medicine Cat[/sub]
WHAT DO YOU LOOK LIKE?
Pink hairless tom with light green eyes.[/sub]
CAN YOU GO INTO MORE DETAIL PLEASE
Well… He’s not pretty. Baldskin is larger than average cat with a medium build, though without fur to bulk his figure out he looks fairly slender. He has quite a long body with a slightly arched back and a long, narrow tail. His legs are quite long and end in big, round paws. His head is wedge-shaped and very angular, with a longish, tapering muzzle, a wide face and two large, triangular ears that are set wide apart. His eyes are large, oval in shape, and are a pleasant pale green shade, reminiscent of jade. Most of his body is entirely hairless, and the pale, slightly wrinkled skin is left exposed to the elements. That said, he does have a patch of very short, downy fur on his muzzle and another that covers his tail. The fur is orange, suggesting that if he weren’t bald, he’d be ginger.[/sub]
WHAT ARE YOU LIKE?
Stern and austere, Baldskin is not the kind of cat you would approach for an idle chat. He’s prefers to sit quietly in the background and watch the comings and goings of the Clan, only interjecting when he has something particularly important to say. He’s not rude; if you talk to him nicely he will respond with perfect civility and even if you say something horrible he’ll just make a clever remark and walk off. He’s learnt that he will always be regarded as something of an oddity, and while his Clan have had time to get used to him somewhat, there are still those who aren’t comfortable around him and even those who mock him outright. He therefore keep himself to himself. That said, his position demands that he deals with other cats on a daily basis, and he doesn’t mind. He’s a competent and efficient medicine cat, the type you’d trust to have poking something into your wounds. Baldskin retains, in his heart, a little piece of bitterness over the fact that he wasn’t able to become a warrior. He understands why of course; he wouldn’t even be able to scramble through thorns without cutting his unprotected skin, let alone fight, but the memory of the day, 24 moons ago, when he was told he wouldn’t be becoming an apprentice, still stings. He doesn’t let himself dwell on it much, and for the most part he’s happy serving the Clan a different way, it’s just a little twinge that won’t go away.[/sub]
YOUR FAMILY TREE
Fireface - mother – longhaired, red-pointed she-cat with cobalt blue eyes.[/sub]
Skyfur – father – grey-blue tom with yellow-green eyes.
Rainpatter – sister – tortoiseshell she-cat with yellow-green eyes.
Leapinghare – sister – dilute tortoiseshell she-cat pale green eyes.
SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT
It was a slow day at WindClan, and with nothing to do Baldskin was rapidly growing bored. Most of the warriors were out on various patrols and the medicine cat was just biding his time until they returned at dusk, waiting for the numerous minor cuts and scrapes he was going to have to patch up. Until then though, he might as well be a patch of thistle for all the good he was doing.[/sub]
Lying in the cool shade of the entrance to his den, the hairless tom glanced towards the freshkill pile and considered eating something just to alleviate his boredom. He half got up, then he changed his mind and slumped back down again; he got such little exercise that he had to be careful not to overeat, lest he put on weight. He was ugly enough without being fat. Looking away from the tempting morsels, he instead wondered if it was worth gathering some more herbs, but his stocks were full and besides; it was a hot day and if he ventured out onto the heath he was likely to get sunburnt. Eventually he decided to visit the nursery and see if there were any poorly kits that needed his attention. Logic told him that, if there were, their mothers would seek them out himself, and he didn’t much like going in the nursery what with the way the queens stared at him, but at that moment he was happy doing anything so long as it wasn’t lying in place.
He got up and began trotting towards the large den, but he stopped suddenly when a surge of pain shot up his right forepaw. Wincing, he glanced down and saw that he’d stepped on a tiny, sharp stone and his pad was now beaded with red. It wasn’t a serious injury, in fact the bleeding was already slowing, but it seemed somehow ironic that, after wanting to find someone in need of medical attention, it was himself he was going to have to sort out. Grumbling to himself, he limped back to the entrance of his den and began licking.
