Scartide TRT

Name: Scartide (Often called Ratface/Bat behind his back.... which he hears, of course)
    Name meaning: The scars on his flank, and the traditional suffix for leaders.
Past names/nicknames: Sharpkit, Sharpfin, Scarfin, Scarflank
Sex:  Male
Age: 74 Moons
Clan: Basaltclan (Was originally Waveclan, but left them)

Breed(s): Cornish Rex


Rank: Leader
    Past Ranks: Warrior; Apprentice; kit
    Current Apprentice: Echofin
    Mentor: Uh... someone from Waveclan? Considering how old he is, they'd be dead by now.
    Past Apprentices: none.

Appearance: UGLY. Scarflank is small, thin, and bony, almost appearing like a skeleton walking. His fur is curly with Siamese-esque markings (cream and darker on the edges,) but has huge ears and bicolor yellow and red eyes that gleam in the dark.

Brief description (book description): A fragile cream colored tom with a mangled looking leg.

Voice: Working on it.

Scent: Scarflank has no discernable smell, which is concerning on its own, but most curiously, the only real marker that a track or bedding is his is the disctinct smell of salt.

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Personality: 

[minimum]

 Honorable
Scarflank follows his self-proclaimed warrior code with every fiber of his being, and expects others to be held to the same standard. He protects his clan every moment, and looks after all its inhabitants in his own way.

 Loyal
Now that he has joined Basaltclan, he feels he belongs, and would happiy die in protection of his fellow clanmates, especially for his close friend, Embertide.

 Cunning
Scarflank's shifty eyes are not for nothing; he is always watching, and puts two and two together faster than you can say four. 

 Perceptive
While he may look odd, his huge eyes and ears allow for Scarflank to constantly be surveying the world around him, not to mention his habit of listening in on other's conversations and following suspicious cats around. 

 Not Stubborn
While he often holds onto insults, he is intelligent enough to know when politics require him to let an incident go. He will also concede when logic proves him wrong.

 Religious
Scartide believes deeply in the Tidespirits and will follow their guidance to the ends of the Earth. He draws much of his strength and faith that things will be okay from the sea, and thus the Tidespirits.

 Cool-headed
If insulted, he does not fly into a rage; he simply nods, and remembers forever. He is cool and calculating even in the heat of battle, and very little can make him lose sight of logic and reason.

Honest
Scarflank is ALWAYS honest, even if it may be damaging to his friendships or his physical safety. But he is also a good person to go to for the truth.

 Sensitive
While he may not react strongly, Scarflank takes all insults and slights very personally, and is deeply offended by them. He knows he looks hideous, but he doesn't want to hear it!

 Encyclopedic
Scarflank's memory almost never fails, and he has oddly specific knowledge of the rain and the tides and times of past occurences. You can ask him which cats had what patrol on a day many moons ago, and he can tell you. He loves the history of the Clans, including leaders, deputies, skirmishes, and resolutions. 

 Dedicated
When put on a task, Scarflank doesn't stop until it's complete. Even if that task is a personal one to destroy the reputation of a cat that wronged him.


NEW  Unwittingly Manipulative NEW
Scartide thinks that his logical arguments and level-headedness is what drives cats to obey him. Little does he realize that his arguments are usually prodding at emotional or mental soft spots, driving cats to either be brainwashed into agreeing with him or to have blind faith in him.

 Sexist
Scarflank quite genuinely sees she-cats like we humans see dogs; a little less intelligent, and still animals, used primarily for breeding. He will take care of them and respect them more than a lot of toms, but does not trust them to do difficult tasks on their own.

 Petty
All minor slights are taken very much to heart, and never forgotten. If it's a general thing about his Clan, he's more willing to put it behind him. But if it's a direct insult to Wrencall or some cat he cares for, he's never dropping it.

 Unforgiving
It is rare that Scarflank forgives another cat for anything, or even allows their past mistakes to be forgotten. If a cat shirks duty once, they will always be working to earn back their old place.

 Feverently Ambitious
Angered that he was not chosen to be deputy when Embertide was made leader, Scarflank is always seeking to undermine Basaltclan's deputy and put himself in his place instead.

History:

[at least one paragraph per rank]

KIT
As a kit in Waveclan, Sharpkit was treated well. His mother was ditzy, but kind, and his father very honorable. His father was killed when Scarflank was about to be apprenticed, murdered protecting the clan from alligator attack. Even as a kit he became obsessed with the code, and seperated himself from his mother as early as possible. His siblings, two girls, were constantly at war over both wanting to become the medicine cat rather than a real warrior, despite both being much larger than him.

APPRENTICE
Once apprenticed, Sharpfin was constantly deterimed to finish his training early and become a warrior. He worked tirelessly, refusing friendship and relaxation for extra patrols and deep studying of battle techniques. His size hampered him some, but he learned quickly to become faster and more cunning than other cats in battle. He was doing well, until one day when he was set to go out on patrol, his sister begged him to go out alone so she could stay in and watch the butterflies that were landing among the wildflowers near camp. He begrudgingly agreed. Walking alone on the sand, he was attacked by an alligator youth, who clamped onto Sharpfin's flank and tore off a section of tail. Sharpfin was barely able to limp back to camp.
He spent long moons in recovey-- most said he was destined to be a medicine cat, due to his crippled form, but Sharpfin refused. He would be a warrior, and only the spirits of his ancestors could stop him! None of the others listened to his pleas, content to let him heal brokenly and have him as medicine cat. He forced his recovery faster and faster, sneaking out at night to swim in the small ponds and force his legs to become mobile again. As soon as he could walk far enough, he bid Waveclan goodbye, and walked to BasaltClan, where the females were treated as he saw fit. He joined their ranks with a name change-- Scarfin. Scarfin quickly became one of the best apprentices, passing the native Basaltclan cats and causing some jealousy. His injury made him have a ducklike walk, with waddling hind legs and windmilling front, but nonetheless he managed to accomplish every task set before him, using unorthadox methods when his body tried to stop him. His age did not stop his friendship with the other male apprentices, especially Emberfin. 
Once, during a skirmish, he accidentally sent another cat tumbling into the Fiery canyon. The leader covered it up for him. Nobody knows it happened at all--Geyserclan just thinks one of their senior warriors went missing many moons ago. Scarflank is sure the cat's body has washed into the sea, where his ancestors saw and have passed judgement. But since the island did not flood, and the sky did not break, Scarflank has accepted that it was a mistake, and moved on, never to speak of it again. Even his closest friend, Emberfin, only has a shadowy idea of what passed that night.

WARRIOR
He was elevated to warrior in just a few moons, the oldest cat to pass into the warrior rank in Basaltclan's history. Once made a warrior, he became instantly sage, teaching the apprentices valuable techniques, passing on his knowledge, and unendingly loyal to the leaders of the clan. He is deeply religious, and thinks that the best way to ensure a happy afterlife is to follow this code:

Never harm a kit or female with kits; Never kill another cat; Never fight unless it is needed, and if you must, do not do unto them that which cannot be undone; Be loyal to your Clan and respect your leader; and most of all, if your intentions are pure and your actions reflect wise thought, the tidespirits will take care of you.

When Embertide came into rule, it seemed only natural that his closest friend and most intelligent ally be the deputy, but Scaflank was shocked when Smokewing was chosen. He has been spiteful and angry over it ever since. 

One day he took Reedfoot, a queen close to giving birth, out on a short walk; they already had a distant respect and possible amicable feelings, and on this promenade, they developed a sort of romance. She promised to become his mate once she had recovered from her current kits--but disaster struck, and she was severely wounded while going into birth. He ran back to camp to get the medicine cat, but was too late. She died at his paws. 

NEW: (From the RP)
Scarflank was one of the last to evacuate the camp when the storms came, helping the others out first. He stayed fairly level-headed during all the uproar, but one day the apprentice Ripplefin tried to escape. Scarflank brought him back to camp, expecting a merciful death or a crippling and then banishment, but was horrified when Embertide insisted Ripplefin fight a female apprentice, Wrenfin, for the chance at freedom. Wrenfin managed to kill Ripplefin in a short but bloody duel. Scarflank was horrified but made sure Wrenfin was given medical care before she left for Geyserclan.

He stayed behind in camp during the gathering in order to ensure that the cats were looked after, and later went to explore the jungle. He and Infernocall and Ashcoat found the ground in the jungle had been disturbed by a huge monster, or a herd of smaller ones. Fleeing back to camp, they were intercepted by a Waveclan patrol. Scarflank almost managed to negotiate his way out of it when Cloudfreckle attacked him, whipped into a rage by Embertide's actions against Brisktide. 

He fought as best he could during assaults on Basaltclan's camp, sustaining serious injuries along his side. During the battle where Brisktide was killed, Scarflank chose to let the WaveClan warriors go. No-cat knows this, but the deep gouges in Scarflank's chest are actually from Embertide pinning him and raking his claws aggressively down the warrior's chest. Embertide raged at the "loss" of his most trusted friend and was trying to tear his heart out. The wounds, mixed with his already damaged flank, would have certainly killed him, if not for the Pool...

NEW:
Leader
Scartide was made leader when he journeyed with Smokewing to the Starry Pool, and found leadership thrust upon him. His leg and severe injuries were healed (mostly,) only strengthening his faith. He took the Tidespirits' visions to heart; he would lead BasaltClan as best he could. He decreed that unmated females would not be raped as soon as he returned to camp, but he still allows mated pairs to do whatever they please. In his eyes, females are still lesser and are much too weak to handle themselves. 

When Wrencall arrived, he was struck by how beautiful she looked, and was starkly reminded of how close they could be. He made her deputy against his better judgement, but now begins to question his own choices. It was a rash movement, and now he's starting to look for a way out, a way to balance the Clan again. He's avoiding it, but he knows the truth: He's in love with her. And he wants her to be his mate, not his deputy.

As a leader he has been kind to his cats, but holds a sharp coldness within him ready to be unleashed at any rule-breaker. While the rules have changed within Basalt, they are still to be respected. He's been seeking to grow closer to the she-cats and toms, gaining their loyalty through friendship, respect, and unwitting emotional manipulation (see above.)

Echofin came to Scartide one day with reports of a dream from Suntide herself, the founder of Basaltclan. Scartide instantly believed it to be a warning, having his theory confirmed by the arrival of the Waveclan medicine cat and Wrencall receiving a vision. He began evacuating the camp and offered shelter for all Clans during the flooding. Since the Clans have fled to higher ground, Scartide has used the oppertunity to make better diplomatic relations between the Clans, and hopes that some cross-clan relationships can begin to help strengthen the bonds. 



STATS:

11/10 hearing (I mean look at those ears)
9/10 scent
10/10 sight
5/10 speed
4/10 agility

3/10 strength
9/10 intelligence
10/10 memory
4/10 flexibility 

Trivia:

Scarflank can break into a full run properly, and can run as fast as any other cat, but only in short spurts.

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ROLEPLAYING

    RP Form:

     |X| Paragraph

     || Text (1-2 sentences) 

     || First Person

     |X| Third Person

    RP Rating:

     |X|G/PG

     |X| PG + 13

     |X| M 

RP EXAMPLE:
Hey lol here's an actual RP sample:
Scarflank's stump of a tail twitched while he watched the apprentice control herself. She cried, and shook, and even almost... laughed? After some moments she was steady and said she was ready to go, but by then Scarflank needed a moment. He had just watched this she-cat transform from innocent hope into anger and a hard, sharp personality that would scarcely waver. He watched a pure soul become corrupted, and did nothing. It was somehow even more painful from than outside than he imagined it must be from within, because she was almost certainly fueled now by anger and a thirst for revenge, but would not know how joyless her life was. Only those outside a mind can understand when it is truly changed, and Scarflank understood that Wrenfin would be forever cold to all toms (or all cats, maybe) who dared speak to her.

Even after her voice sounded, controlled and quiet, he couldn't move. His eyes were shut in a semi-meditative look, but the slight wince around the corners of his eyes and the tired droop of his ears gave him away without his knowledge. She deserved better, and it was his fault she became this. His own path had veered so so close to the one she now trod, yet the miracle that had guided him into his code and his kindness did not save her. Embertide had done this. Embertide was her crocodile, her spite and motivation. He wondered if her soul could limp.

He took a long breath. She's afraid. Another breath. She will not trust you. The third. The best thing to do would be to let her go. He opened his eyes, unable to look at her with a tear trickling down his cheek. "We go." He tried to hobble away before she'd be able to get a look at his face, but knew he was yet again too slow to do so. So he hobbled and dragged his leg towards the semi-distant sea, the taste of salt already in his mouth.

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