beastfang

Beastfang is everything in excess- too loud, too big, too rowdy, too stubborn, too brash. He does nothing in half measures- anything they do, they do with their full might. The young warrior feels he has nothing to prove, his overwhelming pride in his power carrying him above any whisperings of failures or shortcomings. In fact, he’s like to snap back with his own remarks if he hears any talk of that sort.

He is definitely equal parts bark and bite, often putting his money where his mouth is when it comes to leveling threats or defending himself. His strength, alongside his massive size and good looks, are his claims to fame. However, his talents can be a bit waylaid by his spotty peer reviews- often challenging authority and doing what he thinks is best (unless your name is Hollownight). Beast has firmly made his position as local “bad influence” in MarrowClan clear.

Ambition is one of his driving forces- not necessarily in a position of leadership, but for power. He is always looking for ways to get a leg up on competition, to be the best.

His respect is hard won, but once won it is kept and defended with everything he has. A slight against a friend or ally is a slight against him- and he always answers in kind, if not twofold.

But underneath this bravado and foul mouth, there is a cat of genuine morals and a loyal heart. Family is important to him, as well as the stories passed down between said family. History is surprisingly integral to his pride- keeping his family’s tales close to his chest, even if they may be farther than he can reach.

HISTORY .

Raised in the mountains beyond the borders, Beastfang was always told the stories of his colony’s ancestry. His mother, Strongjaw, was the matriarch of said group, her partners; Brimstone and Hatchetswing, helped to raise the gaggle of young cats, all fed grand stories of how they had the blood of Lynxes in their veins- how they were powerful and strong because of it. That blood gave them strength, gave them the edge they needed to survive, never mind that it was completely false, Beastfang ate up every word. Raised alongside his sibling, Shrike, the two were the youngest of a gaggle of five “Cubs”.

Beastfang, the larger of the two, was always a rowdy little monster- not afraid to use claws and teeth, encouraged by his parents to roughhouse. Shrike always retaliated in kind, never enough to injure, just enough to build a healthy competition and ‘fighting spirit’.

All would be well until Beastfang and Shrike were around 6 moons. Already learning how to hunt and fight from their parents and older siblings, their history would come to visit. A hungry lynx found their cave, smelling meals past and inhabitants that could perhaps be a meal worth having. A relentless storm most likely drove the thing to hunt, snow and ice clinging to its frame. It crept in at night.

Beast woke with a start, the sounds of a fight, the sounds of a MONSTER. What he saw was enough to freeze his blood.

The beast would find them in a moment of respite, catching their breath, Beast and Thorn moving slowly. Thorn’s injuries and Beast’s still small legs keeping them crawling slowly through the snow. It would leap upon Beast, digging claws in deep to his flank and pulling him down, but he would fight. He would kick and claw and it would be enough for his brother to leap in and afford him the chance to escape.

He would run, air burning his lungs more than the sting in his legs. They would manage to get all the way down the mountain, luck on their side, and begin searching for their family. Instead, they would find MarrowClan. Taken in and looked after, they became the clan’s newest menace. Full of potential and talent, but too stubborn for most mentor’s tastes. He and Hollownight bonded quickly, the young molly encouraging his spirit and passion, offering advice but not expressly telling him how he should live his life.

Luckily, though, he had made some friends. He grew incredibly close with then Seraphimpaw, having more than one would guess in common. He was your regular “bad boy” kid, always doing something he wasn’t supposed to or getting in trouble for “telling it how it is” or “proving a point”.

But, once he had attained his hard fought for warriorship, he still felt lacking. He had striven for strength, chased the dream of being able to never feel powerless again. He never wanted to feel like prey. But…. Even after attaining his full name, he felt a nagging in his chest. Amid the myriad of changes, of battles won and lost, clans formed and deserted, Beastfang knew that in part it was because the foundations of MarrowClan were lacking. They weren’t strong enough to make anyone feel safe inside camp, how could they expect to have that be the case out in the territory? Didn’t mean it didn’t sting to see people turn their backs so easy on family, on blood.

Perhaps it’s what made the visits in dreams from 📯 so easy to heed. Why the lessons he learned and the promise of power filled that need, answered that nagging. It’s Why part of him goes to sleep every night hoping to walk in those familiar forests once again. The world is always out to get you. He only wants to be ready for it when it has the misfortune of catching him.