Spadix

NOTE: Mutt is a Kai-Ken loner roleplayed by user Bread. We have planned this together.

Personality: Though he strongly believes there's usually a way to avoid it, has a stern battle spirit and easily gives into some smack-talk. Like he is now, his parents were loner and intends it to stay that way. Even though he has taken in a younger side-kick to pass on his skills and knowledge to, he's very independent and doesn't exactly like wasting his time helping strays. If he happens to find an injured animal on the streets, cat or dog, it isn't typical of him to lend a paw. However, Mutt was more of a different story that triggered his small, microscopic soft-spot that is for pups in danger. To Mutt, Spadix thinks he probably looks up to him with interest because of his strong education on repairing wounds and illnesses that he'd been taught so many years ago. Spadix isn't very interested in teaching many of the cures to Mutt, but because the younger dog is strong and fast enough to catch prey in Hexasol, which Spadix was never good at. He always aspired in the field of turning old weeds and flowers from Hexasol gardens into remedies and defending himself from others. Upon finding Mutt, he became strong enough to take on the role of defending the two and keeping them healthy. He's a little bit of a worry-wart and ends up having to cleanse the food Mutt brings back to their dwelling.


Appearance: Spadix is an averagely built Dingo. He has short, light-tan fur that appears darker in broad daylight. His paw pads are visibly bruised and permanently damaged from years of walking on hard stone paths. His fur is messy and dark in some patches from lack of grooming. Has few scars scattered on his flank from years of fighting off pride/pack beasts and other loners.



History: Spadix was not raised by both of his parents. His mother fed and educated Spadix up until he was 2 years old. It was then that his mother decided she wanted to leave Hexasol for better life in the wilderness; more prey, less violence, no disturbances. He wanted to leave with her, but found that before he could even answer, she'd abandoned him. He raised himself for a year. By the time he met his first Winter alone, Spadix was half-starved and weak. Instead of defending himself, he'd run away from rivals. He did not mind being called a coward for his escapades. Finding and rescuing Mutt was probably the best decision he made. He nursed the pup back to health and since then, Mutt has been the food supplier for the both. Because of Spadix's picky attitude about what goes in his mouth, he checks the prey Mutt catches for diseased meat or pests. He is like a mentor to Mutt and has been educating him on simple remedies and fighting techniques. His 'apprentice' has a small temper that Spadix still cannot simmer down.

Not knowing Mutt's name, or if he even had one, he simply nicknamed the pup 'mutt,' and he eventually took the nickname on as an actual name. Spadix hadn't really been familiar with dog breeds, so he quickly had nicknamed him that.

Season born: Summer


RP Sample: (Taken from a warriors thread of a post of mine) "A thick fog settled heavily in the RiverClan territory. Rain from the previous night had left a groggy residue onto every stem of grass. Smokewing knelt at the entrance to their camp. He breathed in the moist air, only to choke it back out. How embarrassing such a stunk would be if someone had seen it. As far as the black tom could tell, he was the only one who'd noticed. Others were off bouncing around, clinging into patrols or sharing the news of the day. Sometimes he'd wondered how one day a cat could know "the WindClan warrior is sick!" Then in a simple span of about half a day, "the WindClan warrior died from poisoning!" How a cat could know what was occuring in many territories over? He snorted; he didn't have to finish that. He padded lazily through camp.

His stomach was hollow from guarding all night alone. Smokewing couldn't complain about something he'd been offering to do for moons upon moons. At 21 moons, that's a surprisingly long time. Warriors work never was a real thing for him, but trauma can be a real miracle, can't it? He sighed, a gas forming at his lips, and he plucked a plump vole from the pile and dragged it back to his pose. As Smokewing sloppily slurped and grinded up the the rodent, he felt a little uncanny; was there a cat watching him? He glanced around, meat hanging at his chin. Of course not. How paranoid of himself.

He gulped down half of the mouse about as quick as a fox. Yet, Smokewing could not just shake that feeling. Eyes were on him, he knew it."