Random Character Info Box

Name: Yellowfang

Species: Neko

Birthday: December 25

Age: 65

Height: 163 cm (5'5")

Weight: 69 kg (152 lbs)

Affiliation: ShadowClan

Occupation: Healer

Known Family: None

Appearence: A sour-faced old woman with numerable scars across her wrinkled skin. One of her bottom incisors is prominently out of line and is always visible even when she has her mouth closed. She has long, ruffled gray hair that is usually kept back in a messy ponytail. Her ears are small, her tail shaggy and ragged. Her narrow, sharp eyes are dark yellow.

Attire: Yellowfang dresses in the standard Healer uniform for her Clan, which is a black kimono laced with swirls of golden fabric. The leaf emblem on her Healer's necklace is painted black, as Brokenstar decreed it should be. She also wears a dark, threadbare cowl over her shoulders.

Personality: An extremely intelligent and quick-witted individual, Yellowfang has a sharp tongue that is quick to deliver a stinging retort or insult. She demands respect from and does not take well to ungrateful patients, though she has a soft spot for impudent children. Despite her gruff exterior and prickly nature, Yellowfang has a strong sense of justice and seeks to make amends for the wrongs of her past.

Theme Song: Honeythief by Halou

Honorific Guide

-sama: "one of high rank", or in this case, "leader", or "revered"

-taichou: "captain", or in this case, "deputy"

-san: "adult", formal, used between equals, or as light respect from a younger person, as in 'Mr.' and 'Miss' in the English language. Also can be used between spouses.

-chan: Can be used in two ways. Most commonly used as an endearing term for one who is thought of as cute or childlike. Also can be used to address a female one shares a strong bond with, whether it be romantic or friendship.

-kun: Can be used in two ways. Most commonly used to address one of a junior status, as in a leader addressing a young warrior. Also can be used to address a male one shares a strong bond with, whether it be romantic or friendship.

-Senpai: "upperclassman", so can be used in an apprentice addressing a warrior.

-Sensei: "teacher", so can be used as an apprentice addressing their mentor.

-hoshi: "Buddhist Priest", or in this case, "Healer"

Note: When honorifics are not used, it usually means the two know each other well enough to not engage in formalities. Could also be used as a sign of disrespect, if the particular person is of very high rank.

"Is that all you've got, boy?" Bluestar twirled the sword she held in her hand before planting it in the ground and leaning her elbow against it. She watched silently as Firepaw struggled to his feet, panting as he recovered from a sharp blow to his head. She sighed, shaking her head in mock dissapointment. Just the other day, the Leader had decreed that Firepaw would be her apprentice, much to the shock of the Clan. Now, at their very first training session, she was wearing him down to the point of utter exhaustion. Still, everytime she knocked him down, he stood again. She was actually quite impressed with his resilience, but it was neccesary that she maintain an air of indifference for the training. "Now I understand why the other Clans don't want you in the Clan," she taunted. "You're weak."

Firepaw ignored the insult, only reached for his own sword as he stood. "I thought you fought with knives." He muttered, rubbing his head ruefully. "How come you're so good with a sword, too?"

"I'm Leader." Bluestar answered, rolling her eyes as she rested her cheek in her hand. "I kind of have to be sufficiently trained in all weapons. You know, spur of the moment kind of thing. I have to be able to use whatever resources are available at that time." She tugged the sword out of the ground in one swift movement and pointed it again at the young boy, her face solemn as a faint breeze ruffled her gray-blue hair. "Come at me again, kid. Let's see if you can do it this time."

Clenching his teeth, Firepaw tightened his grip on the sword. He charged forward, analyzing swiftly the angle of his opponent, the most vulnerable parts of the body, and swiveled to the side before Bluestar could swing the sword. However, before he could fully dodge the attack, she angled the blade midswing. His eyes widening, Firepaw raised his sword, blocking the attack. Sparks flew to the ground as the metal clashed. Bluestar pushed against him, knocking him off balance. When he hit the ground, he stayed on his back, and as the second strike came down, he held the sword up to block it again. Suddenly, as the strain grew almost too great for him to bear, the sword broke. Straight down the middle, while Firepaw watched in shocked horror as Bluestar's own sword sliced through it like butter. There was no time to move, no time to do anything as the sharp metal met with his chest.

Blood splattered the ground as Bluestar's sword ripped away, leaving Firepaw on the ground, gasping for breath. Bluestar lowered her sword and eyed him coldly, watching as he rolled on to his side painfully, his eyes shut tightly as blood darkened the ground beneath him. He opened his eyes slowly, watching Bluestar as she rose her own sword, high above her head. His eyes widened. Was she going to kill him? Did she really think he was too weak? Was there no point in keeping him here anymore?

"Do you know why you're weak, boy?" Bluestar murmured, the silver blade catching the light of the sun and sending golden reflections over the woods around them. "Do you know why your sword broke so easily?" Firepaw briefly glanced at the shattered remnants of his sword, the only part left intact being the worn leather hilt. "It's because your resolve is so weak." She told him. "Your sword will only ever be as strong as your resolve." When Firepaw's brows furrowed in confusion, she sighed. "When you attack, you are afraid to cut me. When you defend, you are afraid of being cut. And when you protect someone, you are afraid you will let them die." She shook her head, her eyes narrowed to ice-blue slits. "That is not how a true warrior thinks."

Firepaw listened in awe, unable to move, hardly able to breathe, but hanging on to every word she spoke. "When you protect someone, you don't let them die. When you defend, you don't let them cut you. And when you attack..." she brought the sword down so quickly, it was a silvery blur. Suddenly it was infront of his face, right between his eyes. "...You kill."

The sword lowered to her side again, the blue-haired woman turned her back on the orange-haired boy. "So, tell me, boy... how strong is your resolve? To what lengths will you go to protect this Clan? To protect me? Graypaw? Sandpaw? Spottedleaf?" She looked over her shoulder, the smallest hint of a smile on her lips. "Or will you just die there, bleeding your life into the grass, only to be eaten by vultures and foxes?" The Leader began to walk, the blade of her sword trailing in the ground behind her. "Remember. Your sword is only as strong as your resolve, and your resolve is only as strong as your heart." He watched her helplessly as she walked away. She was going to leave him here to die. All that he'd worked for up till this point would be in vain, because he'd been too weak.

He turned his head slowly, finding again the glinting pieces of his sword, scattered through the grass. The hilt. A bit of the blade was left, wasn't it? Yes, there had to be. But what could he do? His vision was swimming as he tried to focus on his goal, as his fingers reached in vain for the crude leather. He willed his body to move, tried to summon all the strength he had left in his limbs. With a great effort, he rolled over on to his stomach. His fingers curled around the hilt like a hawk's talons. Blood was pumping freely from the wound, but he could no longer feel the pain as he picked up the broken weapon. Yes, there was still a slab of the blade left there. Staring at it, he thought about what Bluestar said. To what lengths would he go, to protect his new home...?

Bluestar heard him as he forced himself to his knees, and finally to his feet. She turned slowly, seeing him standing defiantly, the broken hilt grasped tightly in his hand. Blood dripped steadily on to the ground beneath him. He was obviously exhausted. But there was something different about him now, about the way he held himself, his forest-green eyes calm and burning. He raised the hilt slowly, pointing that shard of blade at the ThunderClan Leader. Then he charged. Bluestar hardly had time to raise her own sword before he was on her, and the grinding of metal split the air. Though he was obviously weak, hardly able to stand, he was holding his own now, even pushing her back as power surged through his blade. This was the most alive he'd ever felt, confidence radiating through him as the true power of his resolve glowed in his eyes.

Then he faltered. One moment, he was fighting with all the force of LionClan, and then the next, the sword slipped from his hands. Bluestar dropped her own and hardly had time to catch him before he fell. "That's enough." She grinned, hefting the boy over her shoulder like a sack of flour. Without even bothering to pick the swords up from off the ground, she began walking in the direction of the camp. "You did well." She told him quietly, her voice uncharacteristically serious. "I'm not gonna lie, I'm impressed. You've got the makings of a true warrior, kid." She was silent for the long time. She knew he could hear him. He was straining to hear every word she said, fighting the darkness in his eyes. "But you need to remember... sometimes your resolve will weaken. It happens to the best of us. You'll find yourself scared to death of a powerful opponent, or stressed out, or something like that. That's when most warriors fail. I think you can overcome that, though. Remember, Firepaw; if you hesitate, you die. If you let down your guard, you die. You've gotta stay strong."

"I can't believe you're in here again." Ravenpaw laughed nervously, sitting up in his own cot when Firepaw awoke the next morning. The black-haired boy's wide eyes were constantly darting back and forth, as though he was perpetually afraid of some unseen force. His wounds were healed, Spottedleaf had said. But for reasons unbenknownst to any of them, he insisted on staying away from training for as long as possible. Spottedleaf had covered for him, thinking it had something to do with the mental strain of the battle. In the time of his recovery, he'd been visited quite a few times by both Graypaw and Firepaw, since Firepaw insisted on seeing Spottedleaf as often as possible. "I'm surprised you didn't die." Ravenpaw continued, watching Firepaw's eyes blink open slowly. "Spottedleaf-hoshi said that wound wasn't deep, but it was bleeding a lot..."

"I'm fine." Firepaw muttered, sitting up slowly. He could practically still feel the hilt gripping tightly in his hands, adrenaline pulsing through his veins, the sheer force of his resolve driving him on. But the illusion was soon gone, replaced with the aching in his chest and weariness. "Where's Spottedleaf-san, anyway?" He asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "And how long have I been out?"

"Well, I'm not really sure where Spottedleaf-hoshi is at the moment." Ravenpaw mused, on of his ears twitching. "But you've only been unconcious for a couple hours now. It's almost time for supper. By the way, what happened?" He tilted his head to the side, his normally listless eyes bright as he spoke to one of his only true friends. "You were training with Bluestar, right? I don't understand how you got so beat up. I mean sure, Bluestar's a bit eccentric, but I didn't think she'd go so far as almost killing you..."

"She was teaching me something very important." Firepaw answered. "I just learned through some trial and error."

The gentle tinkling of bells signaled Spottedleaf's approach as she opened the door and stepped in, pulling a cart of medical supplies behind her. "I'm sorry it took me so long," she said, smiling apoligetically at Firepaw. "Our supplies have been low, so I had to place an emergency order at the last Gathering. They just arrived today, thankfully, so you should be up and about in no time..." She was quiet then, shuffling around in the concoctions, checking each one for the correct label. The two silver bells Firepaw had gotten her at the Gathering were still on her tail, as she'd worn them every day. Many complimented her on them, saying it was about time a girl so beautiful began caring about her looks. She would only laugh, saying they were a gift she just happened to be quite fond of. "Bluestar really did a number on you, didn't she?" Spottedleaf laughed.

"Yeah, she did."

Firepaw was up in several days, just as Spottedleaf suggested. He was still somewhat unsteady, but Bluestar insisted he go ahead with the solo hunting session scheduled for each of the apprentices. Armed with a slingshot, he was sent off to Tallpines, where he was ordered to bring back a rabbit. Whitestorm led him there, all the while quizing him on hunting techniques and proper alignment with the wind when stalking. He complied to the older man's concerns, knowing he was proud of the boy's accomplishments and wished for him to do well in order to gain the trust of the rest of the Clan.

Now, bathed in shadows of early morning, Firepaw crept across the dew-laden ground. The pines offered sparse cover, though the soft bed of pine needles beneath him muted each footfall. Still he was unused to hunting with no undergrowth to conceal his bright hair. It was when he heard the harsh bray of a doe in pain that he bolted upright, scaring away a squirrel that had apparently been sitting close by. Ignoring the rodent, he launched forward towards to source of the noise. He heard another cry, this time quieter and more strained, before is descended into an eerie silence. Firepaw burst into a clearing of the woods, where he saw the source of the noise.

An elderly woman, her scraggly gray hair falling over a tattered black cowl over her shoulders, turned slowly to look at him. Her hands were folded inside the sleeves of her kimono, and at her feet lay the lifeless body of a young doe. The woman's dark yellow eyes narrowed as the boy approached. "You're that human Bluestar spoke about." Her voice was gravelly and dark, though her expression suggested she had a faint interest in him. "You're quite a bit smaller up close." She observed. "What Bluestar saw in you, I certainly don't see."

Firepaw's eyes narrowed, and he reached for the dagger in his pocket that was mandatory for all apprentices to have. "Who are you?" He demanded, slipping the dagger from its sheathe and holding it out in front of him defensively. "And why are you on my Clan's territory?"

"I am Yellowfang." The old woman answered, not moving. "I am Healer of ShadowClan. As to why I am here, it is nothing a boy like yourself should concern yourself with. Now if you don't mind, I would like to take this here doe, perhaps a squirrel or two, and leave."

"Not a chance!" Firepaw retorted, his eyes blazing as he readied himself for the inevitable fight.

Yurhur. I've had that scene with Bluestar planned out from the very beginning. XD Did you like it?

I'm not gonna list my reviewers, 'cause I'm lazy. You know who you are. Thank you. X3

Review? o3o Plz?