Elfkin

Player Name: Skitzo

Character Name: Elfkin (previously: Elfstar, Elf-flame, Elfpaw, Elfkit)

Gender: Trans-Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Age at Death: 32 Moons

Year of Death: 903

Health: 23

Physical description: Elfkin is a short (dwarf) vivid orange tabby with scars littering his body. His fur is rather smooth but fluffs out on his cheeks and underbelly/chest. Distinguishing features for this tom is his missing back leg, his bobbed-tail, his neck scar, and a recognizable “H” scar on his side.

Personality: Elfkin was once a rather gullible cat. This led to the mishap of his death so now, with a new life, he has become more cautious on who he trusts. Things that have remained despite death is Elfkin’s persistence and determination for doing what he believes is right and his perseverance to survive.  This small tom is also rather intelligent, knowing he’s not built for physical combat he instead uses his intellect to analyze situations and get the drop on his opponents.

When interacting with people Elfkin tries to stay positive and friendly… but the tom has a temper as short as he is at times. He hates being referred to as a child but luckily knows when to bite his tongue. This just makes him look like a grumpy teen unfortunately.

Backstory:

Clan Info: Clan of the Fjords. This clan of felines had a close relationship to the twolegs of their region. Cats at the time were revered as spiritual creatures and assistants to one of their deities so they were happily kept and taken care of. Still the cats of this clan hunted for themselves and fought off the smaller creatures that threatened the village. Strangely these cats also believed in the same pantheon as their twoleg companions.

The clan had a few distinctions from modern clans:

There is no deputy

The leader is referred to as the Jarl and is usually a cat with the suffix Kin (typically also a bloodline unless the Ancestors/Starclan deem otherwise)

The medicine cat is referred to as The Crone and is always a female who passes on her legacy to her most knowledgeable dfab child. She is allowed to mate with whoever she pleases but it is usually of the Leader’s bloodline.

To become a warrior cats had to earn the title in battle. More often than not this was against a fellow clanmate but sometimes this was during skirmishes with foxes, badgers, or dogs.

Both the Leader and Crone are given gifts by the Ancestors. The leader is given nine lives to help them in battle. Crones are bestowed with a body meant to last nine lifetimes, meaning they are believed to age incredibly slowly. When the next Crone takes their place the current does not die, they go off into the forest to join their sisters.

Kithood: Elfkit had been the only child born to her litter, currently the only child of the clan’s Crone Moonforger. The she-cat had no issue with naming her child and named her Elfkit immediately. She could see not only the sign of the child being elf-touched by her short tail but also her short legs. The clan, like their twoleg counterparts, had superstitions beyond those of the starless realm and the ancestors. Elves, or in short faerie folk, were seen as bad omens. They were tricksters who rarely helped others. Moonforger knew her kit would be seen as nothing less so she went ahead and gave her daughter the name before the leader (Seastar) could do it himself.

Due to her name Elfkit was shunned by the rest of the clan so she had a rather lonely kithood. Still her mother always showed her affection and loved her very much, filling the young child with lore knowledge of the ancestors and gods. She had every intention of turning this child into the next Crone… until Elfkit expressed something that was not common but still surprising. She wanted to be a he. Moonforger was a little… well she was not pleased by this but agreed. She could still forge her son to be the next Crone due to his biological sex, though it would be a bit harder seeing as he also wanted to be a warrior.

Apprenticeship: Elfpaw had been nervous to say the least. None of the other apprentices accepted the ‘elf-touched’ feline and forced him to sleep outside or with his mother. He had only one stroke of luck. The leader of the clan, Seastar, knew that no warrior would want the malformed apprentice so he took the young cat in himself. While he did not fully trust the young tom he did want to try and keep the young cat on the side of the clan. Seastar worked with what Elfpaw had,a small stature and tabby markings. Due to this he trained the apprentice like a scout rather than a fighter, giving him the okay to fight dirty should he find himself in combat with another feline.

Finally the day for Elfpaw’s apprentice ceremony came. The young tom was placed up against a warrior of the clan… and the leader’s son. Stormkin. The other tom was tall, muscular, and seemed cocky. Elfpaw felt his heart leap.

The fight lasted longer than anyone had anticipated. Elfpaw had used his smaller stature to keep Stormkin confused. Some of the warriors even said they looked to be dancing in a way. Finally Elfpaw had been pinned, the outcome everyone expected but the length of the fight had most of the clan whispering… perhaps the dwarf could be useful after all.

Moonforger stood proudest of all the cats there, they all had doubted her child but there he stood at the ceremony, a true man among the clan. She flashed her growing child a smile of pide as Seastar went about naming all the new warriors.

“Elfpaw, you have honored the ancestors and shown us that one’s spirit is not bound by their body. For showing the clan your might and determination I give you the name Elf-flame. May you continue to warm our hearts and drive out the bitter frost that lurks there.”

That night started the clan’s traditional week long feast to congratulate the new warriors, allowing them to mingle before their ceremonial scarring. Many of the warriors still avoided Elf-flame, believing in superstitions that the child was still cursed… but one did not.

Stormkin approached the new warrior and spent most of the feast getting to know Elf-flame better. The orange tom was surprised to say the least. This was the future chief, the cat he fought, a cat who’s mark signified that he had been chosen by the All-Father for his deep connection to the ancestors.

On the fifth night something happened. Stormkin led Elf-flame down an old path away from the crowd. The large grey tom took the two to a small pool in the forest that caught the moon’s light upon the surface, the sacred moonpool of the clan. The orange tom seemed confused until the larger tom began to explain.

The moonpool is the closest link the cats have to their ancestors aside from speaking with the Crone… and since their battle Stormkin had been coming here every night asking for guidance. Last night he had fallen asleep there, his spirit entering the land of the Ancestors where they finally spoke to him.

The draw, the tug at his soul, the quick and immediate attraction… Elf-flame was mostly likely his soulmate.

As he spoke he trained his eyes on the smaller tom. Watching how the tabby fidgeted with every word, how he seemed flustered. He was right.

They spent the rest of that night exploring that bond.

Warriorhood: Elf-flame finally received his warrior’s mark. Many of the clan expected him to be refused a marking or to be marked with the sign of Loki the traitor. Instead the tabby had been graced with the mark of Hagalaz…

“Elf-flame,” Moonforger had begun. “Seastar and I have consulted the ancestors and they have chosen to give you the mark of Hagalaz.” The she-cat kept her expression neutral as she began the scarification process. “This mark is being bestowed upon to you so that the air may fan your flames, that you inspire those around you with the life that burns within you, and that you show us that anyone can be transformed further than they’re born with.”

And from that moment Elf-flame was an official and certified member of the clan. Seastar mainly sent the tom on scouting patrols, never actual border patrols. This stung the tom but he had to remember it was due to his ‘condition’... that and his mother had yet to produce any more children so Elf-flame needed to be the next Crone.

Then Seastar died. Moonforger did her best to guide the clan to assure them that this was the will of the gods. The previous leader had three lives, but it seems that the fall from the mountain had taken them all.

The clan had their time of mourning before Stormkin travelled with Moonforger to receive his nine lives. The once prodigal warrior came back as Stormstar, new leader of the clan.

Elf-flame felt his stomach drop as he had that look of regret in his eyes.

Stormstar had begun spending less time with Elf-flame and more time with the cats in the clan that identified as she-cats, the ones that would eagerly be his mate. The orange tabby felt lost, confused, and, most of all, betrayed. Had the nights meant nothing? Had the promises of the future and all that talk about the ancestors making them destined just bullshit?

Elf-flame finally confronted his supposed lover at the moonpool, tears burning in his eyes as he questioned what the hell had been going on. The words Stomstar spoke broke what was left of the orange tabby’s heart.

He needed someone who could give him healthy heirs. Heirs that had no chance of being touched by the fae. Heirs that Elf-flame had no chance of providing.

Rage boiled in Elf-flame. How dare Stormstar just assume that he could not provide heirs?! He was more than willing to give at least two heirs for him. Still the tom was not thinking clearly as he struck his leader, leaving a deep set of scratches on the large tom’s face before running deeper into the woods.

Over the moons that passed Elf-flame grew closer to his mother who began obvious disgust for their current leader. She vowed that she would protect her son and make him better than any of them could hope for…

Elf-flame had been out collecting herbs for his and his mother’s collection as Frigid-Fall would soon be upon them and they may not see any for quite some time.

That is when he overheard it.

Stormstar was holding a meeting away from the clan with their elders… but Moonforger was not present. He spoke of how the Ancestors showed him a visage of sending away their young on the two-leg’s next voyage. The elders seemed to agree but why… why wasn’t he speaking to Moonforger about it?

Elf-flame hurried back to the home he shared with his mother. Before he could tell her what he saw she told him something chilling. She had a vision from the Ancestors. That there would be a siege on the village that would destroy the clan. More panicked the tabby told his mother what he overheard.

The two came to the conclusion that if Stormstar sent the young away then the clan would be defenseless and would surely perish.

The next morning Elf-flame got to work. Seastar told him if he were to fight he had permission to fight dirty. The tom unsheathed his claws and coated them in the paste he had been working on. It would not kill Stormstar, but it would weaken him with the nauseating effects. As the sun rose in the sky mother and son walked into clan center with a goal in mind. Once present Moonforger spoke for the two:

“Stormstar you have been challenged for leadership by Elf-flame! Come and face him or forfeit your right as leader.” The clan burst into murmurs of disbelief at the idea of challenging Stormstar, at Elf-flame of all cats doing so, but also the look of hate and determination present on both cats’ faces.

Stormstar did come to fight, clearly in disbelief that the cat that was once his lover, the cat that was his soulmate, dared challenge his leadership.

Like seasons before the two faced off in battle, except this time it was Elf-flame who stood over Stormstar. The tom’s face was expressionless as he used his claws to swipe across the vague star shaped marking on Stormkin’s cheek.

Without a word he and Moonforger went to the moonpool to bestow on Elf-flame his nine lives, no longer a warrior the tabby now claimed the name Elfstar.

Leadership: It was no secret that no one in the clan respected Elfstar or cared that the young tom stood in place of Stormkin. In retaliation the dwarf hardened his heart so he could do what was right. Before Frigid-Fall the two-legs would set off on a voyage to procure food and be back before anyone could starve. This is the ship Stormkin had wanted to send the clan on… so the morning of Elfstar sat at the dock with an air of challenge should anyone dare try to board the vessel.

The cold season was as expected, harsh and unforgiving. The clan had started to become thinner as they waited for the two-legs to return…

Then the screams started.

The village had been raised in fire. A tribe from a neighboring isle had invaded and started to slaughter the two-legs that lived there. With them they had brought wolves. The canines did their part in killing the two-legs but also the felines that lived there.

Elfstar did his best to defend the clan, trying to buy time for those who were able to escape to the mountains but he just wasn’t strong enough. Before he knew it the tom was in the jaws of one of the vicious wolves. They had him by the neck, another latched onto his back leg before they pulled.

The tabby’s body began to know nothing but pain, his lungs filling with blood from his own throat. The last thing he saw in his vision was the two cats he cared for the most.

Moonforger looking horrified at the edge of the forest, she made it out… Elfstar managed to smile at this despite his throat being torn from his body.

And then he saw Stormkin. The tom, even in death, looked right at Elfstar with disappointment and betrayal. As if the tabby had brought this scourge to them himself.

Perhaps, Elfstar thought, the two could work out any miscommunication in the land of the Ancestors… Perhaps they could be together once more.