Palmstar

Name: Palmstar _{Palmkit, Palmpaw, Palmtail, Palmgrave, "Palmpalm"- As dubbed by Reeftooth}

Gender: Male

Clan: SharkClan

Rank: Leader

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Description: An elegant Turkish Angora; Palmstar really lives up to the beauty of his lineage. However the years have rendered him somewhat stocky, especially in the shoulders. He has long, white, sinfully soft fur that has hints of pinkish hues on his inner thighs, paws, nose, ears, and toes. In spite of his initial appearance, one will find that he is actually somewhat thin save for the tension in his shoulders and spine, worn thinner by some grievous years that have made him look years older than he is from the stress. He also doesn't practice a regular diet which contributes to this.His eyes are differing shades, both a bright, light gold in his left eye, with a lighter yellow white and a golden iris; and alternatively he has a darker aquamarine blue white with a lighter icy blue iris. It is possible that this is a cataract that inhibits his vision, or it could just be some kind of mutation in his eye genetically inherent in his breed.  Both eyes don't really contrast his light pelt, but the soft pink hues of his skin seem to rim the front of his eyes, speckling his brows with the slightest splash of color. His tail has been docked, and is unusually fluffy that sort of indicates the past state of his tail, although it is much shorter now. Similarly, a few decent notches were carved out of his right ear. His leader mark crawls up his front right paw, bathing his paw in dark near crimson red that lightens out to the purer red that bends into several swirl-esque markings.

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Personality: Since becoming the recent face of Sharkclan, he inadvertently exhibits the many traits exemplified in those cats of olde. His face and manners are very serious apiece, and he is very mature for his age, oft to being mistaken for much older than he actually is. He has an incredibly noble nature, seemingly to a fault, and spends most of his free time to himself in contemplation. He values hard work, and cherishes the ideal of family beyond what an average single old tom should. He loves strong, and is loyal to his passions. Formerly an 'adventurous', if completely worrisome tom, he had even in his youth acted as the voice of reason within his peers. He was truly a scaredy-kit, but was easily coaxed into adventures and often instead became the rock, the problem solver; and a slight bit of the comic relief as he was increasingly found to be the sensible one in many colorful personalities. Even in Reeftooth's zany escapades, he is often shown to be the down to earth, worrisome thinker archetype of feline. He's foolishly brave to date however, although it's assumed this might be due to a lesser value in his own life. Regardless of who you are, you can count on him to jump into the fray if he finds your health endangered or your well being threatened. In serious situations, his emotions tend to shut down and he will take a very objective, analytical standpoint. He will do what he sees as right, regardless of what that entails him to do. A brooder, he is often found to let his emotions catch up with him only after acting, leading to a lot of regrets and guilt.

He is also very stubborn, because his vision of right is very straight and true; and he does not very often settle for an opinion that is not his own. He is misunderstood to be cranky most of the time, but he's more often than not just very gruff and blunt in general. He can be exemplified to have a short fuse with certain hot-button topics, which will get him to snap or  shut off the conversation entirely. Otherwise and on average, he is very grave, very serious, and has a very dark outlook to most things. He's pessimistic but in a rather inspiring way of using that outlook to work that much harder to overcome the innumerable obstacles he sees, whether they are real or not. He's incredibly thorough, amazingly empathetic, and seems to have a sage definition of life and death, having had to deal with it for a good portion of his life. There's a sense of purpose to his step, whether he serves Mysticdream or his own design, his every breath is serving what he believes is right.

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Family: 

Father: Cliffstride _Deceased Mother: Palesky _Deceased

Siblings: Koistep

Apprentice(s): Reefheart, Battlepaw

Mate/Crush: Conchcry _{Former, Deceased}

Kits: An unnamed kit _Deceased, Cloudpaw _Deceased and Kitepaw _Deceased

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History: Palesky met her mate, Cliffstride, first, beneath the palm trees. As a symbol of that, she requested him upon the delivery of her children to escape the nursing den and birth there. The stubborn old queen could not be settled, and so her mate escorted her beneath the peaceful hammocks of the palms, and the swaying heavy fruit that made him cautiously try and usher her along. On a fine day, a little passed the time when the sun was at its highest, the two birthed two gorgeous young kits. A young boy, much larger than his sibling, and a tiny, delicate girl. He was dubbed Palmkit, after the palms that stood towering tall, large, strong, and unbending above them; a place that offered them shade that warm day and all the many days of their lives. His sister harbored bright orange spots that freckled her form and face and otherwise off-white coat; similar to her father's pelt, but unlike him with an overlaying coat of white. She looked like a koi, tiny and delicate and precious, and that would soon be her name.

The two grew well into their names. Palmpaw was rather brainy, but he was the stronger of the two, and emotionally a very steady, if worried older brother. Koipaw was just as delicate as predicted, but was full of life, excitable, bossy, and absolutely precious. It made sense that the palm would shade the koi in this analogy, and Palmpaw shadowed his sister, the two were inseparable for the longest of times. She would usher him into seemingly harmless situations that would turn out to be tricks to get him in on her group's adventures. True to his nature, he always acted as the voice of logic or reason. He soon resigned himself to his role in life, acting as the troubleshoot for obstacles and other things and being valued in the group for his ability to reason out things logically and for admittedly coming up with some out of the box explanations and ideas to help with their ideas. After he was coaxed into agreeing to help with them, of course. Little Koi would often race ahead, with her guardian palm keeping her from the blistering sun of the world.

Upon their warrior ceremony, Koipaw was given the name Koistep, for her somewhat sneaky and sly tongue, and the fact her footfalls were barely able to be heard any longer by even the more experienced warriors. She moved like a ghost, and her soft footfalls were not lost on the leader. Palmpaw was dubbed Palmtail, for his long, luxurious tail that he wore with pride. A gift of his mother, he brandished it high. The tip of his tail, probably from the playful biting and fighting with Koistep, almost always jutted out in all directions, playfully reminiscent of him having a living palm tree tail as it swayed to his every step. 

His life was ultimately very simple. He was a standoffish, simple guy. He had simple pleasures, simple peeves, and a simple warrior's life. Mundane every day that bled into mildly dangerous adventures with his little sister. He fell in love with his best friend; another cat of the little group of peers they gathered on their adventures. Hunting, going on Koi's adventures, settling down with that crush of his, a sweet little kit he tagged long with that held his heart as hers for a much longer time than he would ever admit. He was dumbstruck by her and often would just follow her around in a very adorable best friend type worship. Sooner than later however, she finally let him in, and the two settled down. It wasn't much longer that they had kits of their own. Trying to uphold a tradition, Palmtail asked Conchcry, his sweet, if sometimes pushy mate, to join him by the palms to have her kits beneath its shade. It was in remembrance of his mother; who passed on peacefully due to age prior. There were three kits, but one sank their hearts as one of them was lost to Mysticclan almost immediately. Conch mourned rightfully over  this loss, but the two found a new love in the kits they had managed to keep. They were embraced with all of the love the two cats could offer, and it was in mourning jubilee that Kitekit and Cloudkit were named. Kite uncannily reminded them of Koi, as she seemed immediately clever and sharp, and her striking pelt seemed to remind them of the predatory kite. Cloud looked of her father, soft, snowy, although her gentle charismatic soul reminded them instantly of her mother. Life was good.

And then the Leafbare came, an excruciatingly cold one that brought with it, Greencough, which hit Sharkclan rather utterly. It was the epitome of hell. An utter mess. Cats were dropping daily, families had holes blasted through them that left survivors in shambles. With that steadfast emotional switch of his he took it upon himself to volunteer to deal with the bodies, and ended up helping bury many of his friends; some as close as family. Over time and an increasingly horrible winter, it became his unofficial job as he handled it a lot more effectively than most other cats. His nerves and stomach were stronger, so he had no trouble dragging his best tom friend out to the shoal to let him rest. His faith was battered, easily, but a tear had not been shed. Some would even likely question on if he cared, and it was hard to tell. At least, until his daughters both contracted it.

It started with Cloudpaw, a simple case of whitecough. Something that could be tended to, neglected, assured that she would be fine soon. But it increased in severity so fast, hit so hard, that to his absolute and utter horror she slipped away later into the night. Kitepaw had it worse however, as she was a fighter. It couldn't just take her immediately. Instead it worried into her, wore her down, thinned out the full form of her, took the light out of the vibrant eyes he so loved, gave her a fever that he could swear burned his paws. She stayed with them several days, continuing to wither away, her mother constantly worrying over her and assuring her she'd get better. But he knew better. Knowing in his heavy heart that she would only continue to suffer until it took her, he took it upon himself to as cautiously as he could to prevent her any more pain, smother her in her sleep that evening.

Conchcry found out about this deed as he would not hide it from her, and began to emotionally isolate herself from her mate. And he did not blame her. As described by her even still, he still seemed void of sadness, void of any emotion at all as he murdered his baby girl. She vilified him, and spat his name and deeds to any cat willing to listen. And it was a combination of all of this that assured the cold mask he wore would slowly meld to him, and grow firmer and more distinct. And soon, she began to absolutely hate him.

Eventually she could stand it no longer and lashed out at him, attacking him verbally at any interval she could manage, much to her assaults falling on seemingly indifferent ears. She would have no idea how much her words would hurt in the future. It became readily apparent, the fact that their relationship was crumbling at its foundations. She no longer felt she could trust him and berated him with a growing sense of paranoia and possession. Having to continue his job of gravekeeper, he spent more time away from his mate and his den progressively to tend to his work, burying himself in that. 

All of this set the stage for Conchcry's infidelity; needing a shoulder to lean on she fell into the grasp of another tom's grasp for quite some time. Out of a petty jealousy and anger and just that blistering hate, she didn't make an attempt to hide it either. She almost paraded this in front of Palm, tried to provoke him into challenging her, reacting to her; but he seemed to be indifferent and let her do as she wanted. His reasoning, whether she knew it or not, was that he felt he deserved this; but to her the neglect to care made her hate him all the more.

When Conchcry got heavy with the tom's kits, she snapped. She challenged him, yelled at him, told him all of the nasty details of her exchange, did anything to provoke a reaction out of him. When he just stared stonily at her she lost it, attacking him viciously out of the blue and almost ripping his ear off, in the fight he with his stronger arm finally struck her, scoring his claws over the side of her face in defense of himself. She seemed shocked, as did he, but his sudden babbling of apologies in spite of her starting it came too late, and she fled. It was not the last of Conch's strategy however. She went to her mate, in a panic, telling the huge rogue that he had been abusive to her over time due to the stress of his job. He would come home and take out the day's toils on her, and the mark on her face was her first batch of evidence that nailed him to the wall. The tom was furious, and went to seek out retribution. Palmtail had done as he always had done, went right to work. Fortunately, a cat had passed on in the cliffs, and he was preparing currently to bring a body down for burial. He had the corpse even slung on his back when he was unceremoniously jumped by the rogue. Palm attempted to fight him off, and the resulting battle was fierce. He was not as strong as the brute that challenged him, and after having been gored into and being thrown around by his once prized tail to the point where it was absolutely shredded, it was only his knowledge of the terrain that kept his life intact. With a well placed kick, he propelled the beast over the cliffs to his death by the sharp rocks below. Dramatic, yes, but it was the only way he could hope to keep his life as it had become more than obvious that his life was in jeopardy.

His once gorgeous tail had been vandalized beyond comprehension, and his entire body stung. But ignoring the pain he went to his work, actually going out of his way to fetch the tom as well and give both bodies a proper sending off. When he returned to camp with a limp and a torn up personage he relayed tiredly this information to Conchcry when she confronted him and where she could find the place to give him final wishes. In an emotional fit of having lost her lover, Conchcry snapped again, berating him with horrible, awful things, trying to make it worse. While he makes it known that he does not know what happened to her and he assumes that she ran off to raise the rogue's kits, there's always just a bit of a guilty glint in his eyes when he brings it up and he's quick to dismiss it.

He lived with a crooked tail for some time, before finally taking it upon himself to go out by the shoals and actually amputate it himself. It wasn't too much later into this mess that Palmtail 'grew' into the Palmtail we know. Due to his service and his lack of his palmy tail, Palmtail was offered the name Palmgrave; a note of his newly grave demeanor, and a play on words due to what his job entailed. It is somewhat like a secondary name and he responds to it, which may mean he accepted the title, but Palmtail was his much more preferred handle.

The second coming of Sharkclan eased his frets, like one could not even hope to fathom. It took time but soon, he tried bringing himself back into the lives of other cats, and he seemed to slowly revel in not being just the collector of bodies.

Reefheart then came to his care and then also changed his life. An apprentice he himself sought out to take care of, it is assumed it is because he is a lot like a little Koistep. But in turn he was an absolute nightmare; you could call Palmtail more of a nanny than a mentor. Taking him from pits of snakes, literally dragging him from leeches and jumping off of cliffs to save the kit, if Palm wasn't white he would be from the grief Reef's caused him. Did you know Reef literally jacked up his own teeth just to pretend to be a shark, hence earning his name? The kit's an idiot. But, the older tom would muse, it was his own personal idiot.

The two are sensationally close, although the new name never caught for Palm and as such, Reefheart will only ever be Reefheart to him. He once contemplated retiring early and foraging out in the wilderness and cliffs rather than fishing. He doesn't trust the water as much since the epidemic, and tries teaching all how to hunt out of the water so they might not have to endure the cold drafts and being soaked. He can make a good meal of coconut milk, birds, fruit and other things that seem unlike a Sharkclanner, and for that reason his scent is oddly different than some of his kin.

(Unconfirmed: )He had enjoyed with him the quieter lifestyle of his years, but an accident befell Dapplestar, one that injured her to the point of wanting to retire so that she would not suffer another near death experience. Lightmoon, while he personally could see her as ready; still was young and had a life she had been hoping to lead before taking on a position. She had a lot more left to experience and the level of stress would have broken this coming out of the shell he was seeing. So, with her nomination to back him up, Palmtail ascended instead to the position as leader of Sharkclan.

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Role-play Example: ^{Warning: Outdated, will update soon} He was having them again. The Nightmares. Why must it be on such bright, luminous and beautiful days that his sleep was so fettered? He could feel it, her fur beneath the pads of his paws, so soft, almost like the downy feathers of a new hatchling, much like her name. He'd held firm, just like he'd done so many moons ago. This was for her, this was for her he reminded himself, brusquely, harshly. But it hissed in his ears. Profanities, accusations, at first they murmured about the featureless cave he found himself in, whispers murmured between clanmates, voices he recognized. Then slowly, as the life visually drained from her small form, they got louder. Soon voices were screeching in his ear. "MURDERER" "CAD" "MOnSTeRR" "HoW do You SlEeP aT NiGHt?" The volumes pitched, shifted, got carried away in the tides.

And then all at once Kite's eyes opened and he didn't see her eyes but the eyes of Conchcry. He was no longer holding her down but sitting upon the ledge of a cliff, staring at him, but her body was broken, and contorted as if she'd taken a great fall. He about heaved when he noted her head, facing him, staring into him with those eyes of hers, those eyes he loved, but her head was all but twisted around, her body was facing the ledge and her face, to an unnatural point was twisted back sharply to look at him. She hissed, in a low whisper that could barely be caught by his ears. "It's your fault." Before suddenly throwing her body into the wind, into the stagnant rocks below to join her mate's fate below.

After many untold horrors in his restless, turning sleep Palmtail jerked awake, his body had broken into a cold sweat under his fur and he found himself gasping as if he'd been drowning. As he slowly let himself come back into his mind and body, his eyes swivelled around to note his surroundings. The den. The camp... His actions hadn't disturbed any of the other cats. Slowly, achingly bringing himself to his feet, figuring he'd take a stroll, he found it better that he hadn't disturbed anyone. It wasn't any of their concern what went through his mind

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Relationships: Will update sssooooon~!