[centre][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/200904/9517b633905bc240110e0b4041a3326d.png[/img]
[hr]
[/centre]
[centre][hider=BranchFall]
[table][row][/row][row][cell]
[img]https://inhabitat.com/wp-content/blogs.dir/1/files/2020/02/scottish-wildcat-3-600x480.jpg[/img]
[/cell]
[cell]
[color=80D1B1][h1]BranchFall[/h1][/color]
[sub][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2w6kHS_IRrE]The Misguided One[/url][/sub]

[sup][sup][sup][hr][/sup][/sup][/sup]
[color=Silver][i]
22 Moons

Tom

Warrior | MistClan[/i][/color]

[/cell][/row][/table]
[color=80D1B1][sub][h2][b]P[/b]rofile[/h2][/sub][/color]
[sup][sup][sup][hr][/sup][/sup][/sup][indent][color=80D1B1][sub][sub][b][u][h3] Appearance [/h3][/u][/b][/sub][/sub][/color]

[indent][indent][color=Silver][i]Being a rather well-built yet slender tom has had its cons over the moons of his life. BranchFall is what anyone would call insignificant. Nothing really stands out. A rather meagre peanut-brown coat striped with hickory tones leaves him on the balance of blending with the darkest regions and lighter areas of the marshlands. At the belly, fritters of a snowy white fluff adds just that tiniest bit of flair. His fur sits in moderate coating, giving him just enough to brave light winters and not too much to melt him in the heat of a greenleaf heatwave. As a final note, his tail is fairly lengthy, enough to very rarely get in the way of movement and concealment.[/i]

[/color]
[/indent]
[/indent]

[hr]
[indent][color=80D1B1][sub][sub][b][u][h3] Personality [/h3][/u][/b][/sub][/sub][/color]

[indent][color=Silver][i]BranchFall, despite his age, has never been perceived as adventurous or a conversationalist unless prompted. Reserved, independent and occasionally withdrawn from his clanmates, he's spent the extent of his time living within the clan as a faded figure in the background of everyone else. Whether its from a sense of alienation or lack of belonging, without a link to the earliest of moons he cherished, some have described him as introverted or even cynical at the worst of times. Truth be told, Branch has the capability to be outgoing, spirited and engaging with those around him as proven in secrecy many moons before, but with a general sense of confusion over himself he tends to restrict those emotions for only the closest of friends.

As for loyalty to the clans, BranchFall's is more out of obedience and holding his circumstances in which he instigated. This makes him a capable warrior at the least and a hesitant one at the hardest of choices, unsure of how kindly his upbringing had been around clancats in which he felt no connection to. After all, when your birthplace bears no acknowledgement to his legitimacy, and with sceptics in his own clan suspicious on his characteristics. If a cat can turn his tail on his own clan once before, he is capable of doing it again. And thus, the assumptions had ran his personality to gentle obscurity. Not to mention, BranchFall's inability to let go of his innate love for climbing can be seen as a statement of whether he actually let go of his upbringing at all.[/i]
[/color]
[/indent]
[/indent]

[hr]
[color=80D1B1][sub][sub][b][u][h3] Biography [/h3][/u][/b][/sub][/sub][/color]

[color=Silver][i]Twenty-two moons ago, amongst a litter of four, a small peanut coloured kit had been born in BirchClan. Under the maternity of HoneyFoot, each of the four kits experienced a relatively comfortable upbringing. Three shes and a tom, with the latter being the sprightly BranchKit. Familial affection was at the forefront of his existence. The days were spent playing, eating and curiously asking their mother with questions unending. These were the fondest of memories. Life was full of innocence amidst what many considered to be the most secure clan to be a part of. Life was plentiful and food was rarely scarce in those early moons. The more he spent spectating the warriors as they came through, sharing their boastful stories of prowess and power, the more he became fascinated with the idea that he would also represent the clan similarly in his hopeful future. Although failing at his young age, he stepped away from his sisters' playing to climb rocks inside the camp, much to the humour of HoneyFoot.

Time passed, as it always did. Sooner than he imagined, he reached 6 moons of age and was granted the pathway to an apprenticeship. Another highlight of his life, one of pride and gratitude, he found himself being placed under the mentoring of a rather peculiar figure: a certain sand-coloured she named DuneWind. Now, DuneWind had been a slight figure of contest within the clan for quite some time. She was add odds with BranchPaw's own mother in previous moons and had a reputation for speaking supposedly unwarranted opinions that tarnished her image. And whilst this worried, and frustrated, HoneyFoot greatly, reasons going as far as giving DuneWind the chance to reason herself through given responsibility soon reassured her that Branch was in safe paws. Given time, things seemed like so for the first moon. Dune was a rather excellent tutor nonetheless, going as far as to help BranchPaw practice through regular sundown hours.

All of this built up an impression within BranchPaw that his mentor was something special, a figure of difference that was not afraid to go against the norm providing it didn't break the code. He began to trust her immediately, finding his second moon to be a time of reformation. She shaped him to be what she thought could be the best warrior of her own accord. However, the peace began to distil. DuneWind would commonly ramble about her infighting with other clancats and warriors, feeding the apprentice with a worldview of complete bias. And he blindly agreed, not knowing the extent of the rabbit hole she'd dug for herself. His trust in her made his mentor feel comfortable, ultimately strengthening their bond beyond regression.

Then came such a day where it all changed. DuneWind, in a rather brooding state, approached BranchPaw as he trained with another apprentice, taking him aside and speaking with an almost radicalised point of view. She spoke ill of the leadership, more than she usually did, and made claims dissimilar to conspiracy and murder against her. Over the next few days, she denounced the clan further until she began influencing BranchPaw himself. His trusted mentor, someone who treated him with admiration, felt threatened by those in power, and so he did too. And by the next day, they decided as mentor and apprentice to abandon BirchClan and to join the neighbouring and contested MistClan, under the guise that they were welcomed.

Transitioning was the turning point of Branch's life. He blindly left his lonesome mother, three sisters and high reputation behind for what he perceived as justified. And all to join a clan he had no experience with, no understanding of or reasoning with their culture. But he did it. For what he thought was himself, but mostly for the likes of DuneWind. The transaction of lives was costly. He was integrated haphazardly without much care and egregious eyes of his fellow apprentices, restarting his training to fit the crowd he couldn't call home. And a half-moon later, a second tragedy rocked his existence. DuneWind was found dead on the border with BirchClan. BranchPaw didn't listen to the reasons why. He just mourned the last connection to his previous life. Without much direction, he stayed put in MistClan as soon as he learnt of his unwelcomed reputation back in his birthplace.

Finally, things steadied on with little excitement. He was reassigned under a new mentor, named FinchNose, and completed his training without any real connection. He wasn't sure if the other apprentices took him as one of their own. Some conversed about him and others just treated him as a normal figure of a confused nature. Whatever they thought, BranchPaw didn't believe he belonged there. And, after an additional seven moons of training, he eventually was accepted as BranchFall. Perhaps it was to highlight his fall from honour, grace or loyalty. It didn't matter. He had achieved his dream. To be a warrior, to do other clancats proud. Except he was somewhere else, with faceless cats who hadn't seen him grow up. A void remained unfilled. BranchFall, now the cat he barely recognised himself, left himself to see what life would throw at him. He had no mate. He had few friends he could fully discern. He just did his job and continued his role as expected, wary of what sceptical eyes looked at his scrambled intentions.[/i][/color]

[/indent]

[sup][sup][sup][hr][/sup][/sup][/sup][indent][color=80D1B1][sub][sub][b][u][h3] Affiliations [/h3][/u][/b][/sub][/sub][/color]
[hider=Family][color=Silver][b][u]HoneyFoot[/u][/b]
[i]Ever since he left BirchClan, BranchFall has not seen nor heard much about his mother. She supposedly has returned to her life as a warrior, letting her age carry her through the ranks of respect with her peers. BranchFall does not say much about her unless prompted, and even then tries to abstain from voicing his opinion. However, regardless of his silence, he still loves her with his entire heart, and aches to know she may never feel such a way back.[/i][/color]

[color=Silver][b][u]ReedCoat | AshTongue[/u][/b]
[i]Two of BranchFall's sisters are still alive, with NewtFeet having turned up dead several moons ago. BranchFall has had little interaction with them, mostly boiling down to meeting by chance on the border. ReedCoat is much more tolerant and accepting of his presence, AshTongue holds no respect for him anymore. At the Splintered Rocks, she does everything in her power to stay away from him, whereas Reed may attempt conversation if the eyes of her friends, family and clanmates aren't upon her. Thus, their relationship is in complete tatters.[/i][/color][/hider]

[/indent]
[hr]
[/hider][/centre]