A sneaky tom, Rowanheart knows his way around any situation and is always on his toes, and with his slender form and skinny appearance, he can sneak in and out of territories without raising any suspicion. He's extremely stealthy and is quick to sense opportunities for thieving, and being light on his paws and fast, can get away with most anything.
As well as being quick on his feet, Rowanheart is quick with his words, and can often come up with a smart remark the instant he finds it necessary, using it especially to lower the self-esteem of others. He lies more often than he tells the truth, though he is quick to gain the trust of his Clanmates, and uses it to his advantage so they don't expect what his true intentions are.
All Rowanheart really wants is to be the center of attention, and to be the leader, in a sense. He wants others to follow his orders, and is willing to sacrifice anything or anyone to reach this goal. But he's sneaky about it. The only cat he truly trusts is himself, but feigns a happy, laid-back composure around most cats, unless there is a mutual distrust and dislike. He wouldn't go so far as to murder another, unless he found they intended to do the same.
In a lot of cases, an ambitious cat is mistaken as being malevolent, and will falsely be thought of as "evil" or "the bad-guy". However, in the case of Rowanheart, this assumption is not false. Though he keeps up a smooth, friendly facade around most of his Clanmates, he secretly wishes them all to be taken away by Two-legs. He especially feels this way towards those of a lower class, such as apprentices or newbie warriors.
In spite of his hatred toward many of the cats in the Clans, he always seems to keep the females in the back of his mind. He definitely uses his looks to his advantage, and flirts with many of the females in his Clan, even the leader. He's only ever had one true potential mate, but he was banished from the Clan they shared before she could bear kits, or even call themselves a family. He enjoys moving from female to female now, however, even if they happen to be in another territory.
Rowanheart, originally named Dustkit, was first born in an unknown Clan somewhere far outside the new Clan territories, and was named for his dusty pelt and rough voice. His father, the Clan deputy, was his idol, and everyone expected Dustkit to grow up to be like Falconpelt. But he wasn't growing as much as the other kits in his Clan had, and could barely keep up with his training when he was named an apprentice as Dustpaw. He felt as though he was always disappointing his father, and his heart hardened against him, as well as most of the Clan. After an extremely heated argument with his father, followed by his "mysterious" murder, Dustpaw was exiled from the Clan, just before he was supposed to be named a warrior.
He ran away from that Clan, and grew stronger and bigger along his journey. When he finally arrived in WindClan territory, he was a muscular, lean cat, though extremely malnourished due to the long trek across the wilderness. When asked what his name was by one of the Clan members, he lied, calling himself Rowanheart in case they had heard the name Dustpaw, and would turn him away. He ended up being allowed to stay in the WindClan, and has lived there since, gaining the trust of his Clanmates, waiting for the day when it would be his opportunity to become deputy.
Mother: Leopardscar Father: Falconpelt
Neutral/Unsure Suspicious of Irritated with In argument with Acquainted with Friend Close friend Best friend Attracted to/Developing feelings for Crush/Sexually attracted to Jealous of Protective of Dislike Hate/despise Love/like family Love/romantically Mate Respect Look up to
Beetlepaw | "The runt definitely has a long way to go if he wants to make himself a true warrior, but I believe in him more than anyone else in this Clan. He's tryin' hard, and I can respect that."
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Rowanheart nodded at Beetlepaw's comments, scrunching up his nose in disgust. "You're right. Never smelled anything like this since I was a kit. Let's go take a look to make sure nothing's wrong with the water," the mentor said to his apprentice. "I want you to stay here for now, I don't want you to come down until I make sure it's not the tampering of Twolegs." The tom ran forward into the tall grass that surrounded the small lake, butting away the towering blades with his skull. The stench grew worse as he drew nearer to the lake, and he drew his running back to a slow sneak when he could hear the quiet swishing of the water coming onto the shore. The tom had to hold back a wretch as the smell got to him, fogging his head up and causing a gross churning in his stomach.
Quietly as he could, Rowanheart stepped forward past the tall grasses and looked around the perimeter of the lake, holding his breath to prevent any more of the odor to accumulate in his lungs. He felt a sense of relief as the area seemed clear of Twolegs and rogue cats, but his stomach dropped upon looking at the surface of the water. It sat still, a sickly green color instead of a clear blue. On top of that, dozens, maybe hundreds of fish were floating on the liquid unsuitable to be called water, dead as a doornail. Unable to keep it down any longer, the tom wretched up the contents of his stomach and fell onto his haunches. After a few moments to regain his composure, Rowanheart cried out, "B-Beetlepaw! Please, come quick!"