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Warriors: A Prophecy of Light [IC]

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Turmenista
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Warriors: A Prophecy of Light [IC]

Postby Turmenista » Fri Mar 22, 2019 5:36 pm

(OOC)

Four are helpless at the full moon's light
Four are slain in the dead of night.
The Ancient warriors' spirits within,
Rise once more to guide their kin.

Four must become one to make this right
Four will become as strong as the Ancients' might
Entwined with each, come seven moons,
To which the Clans must help each other or be set to doom.


__________________________________


    Wolfstar
    __________________________________

That omen.. ‘Four must become one..’

No matter how hard he tried to do so, Wolfstar still couldn’t get that strange, esoteric omen that he’d heard at the Starcave out of his head, and most likely wouldn’t be able to in the near future, partly due to its mysterious nature, and partly due to Waspfoot and his constant nagging and often random decision-making process. As weird as that cranky medicine cat was with his nosy mannerisms, however, he was still the more experienced interpreter of StarClan’s mysterious ways at the end of the day, and had just as much experience in healing sick cats and interpreting StarClan’s many messages as Wolfstar had in leading, if not more. He could respect the medicine cat for that, and he had also helped ThunderClan through the always tough leaf-bare, but neither of the two cats, thus far, had been able to make any sense of the message. Something like this was unheard of from StarClan—what could they have meant by this?

Who could they they referring to? Also... I don’t want to be seen as selfish, but why me? Why now? First, a Wolf omen from Redstar before he died, and now, this...

“Are you all right, Wolfstar?” A familiar voice to Wolfstar’s side drew him out of his stray thoughts as he turned to greet the emerald eyes of Graytail, the most senior of ThunderClan’s warriors, and his longtime friend. Had there not been a cat like Barkclaw around, Graytail definitely would be poised for the deputy position, but the old tom seemed to be comfortable enough right where he was, and any sense of jealousy towards his old friend was replaced with respect and service to his leader.

He nodded at Graytail. “Yes, I am. Thank you, Graytail.” As he gradually began to forget about the mysterious omens, Wolfstar took in the area that he was currently in—its sights, smells, and sounds all coming together in peaceful harmony. They were at the Twin Pines, two tall pariahs of trees that were perhaps older than the ThunderClan camp itself, standing high above the sea of oak trees that dominated their territory. It was used for a variety of purposes, including a fallback point during raids, a meeting area, and, as for now, a training area for the future warriors of ThunderClan. Barkclaw, Moleclaw, and Clawpelt—the “three -claws”, as Waspfoot would often inappropriately joke—were training their apprentices, Goldenpaw, Shadepaw, and Bearpaw, respectively, on battle tactics in the Twin Pines. They were all making remarkable improvements, but, just like much of the Clan, were greatly confused with the sudden and tragic death of Mossfeather, a seemingly healthy and young warrior, and Clawpelt’s mate, where she was found dead in their territory in broad daylight, and brutally murdered. Clawpelt especially seemed to be taking this personally, the rash, battle-scarred tom training Bearpaw extra hard to enact his revenge on whomever or whatever was responsible for the killing of his beloved. He could sympathize for Clawpelt, especially after having mentored him in the past, but he also had to remember that he wasn't the only one that was suffering. Similar events had been occurring to the other three Clans, who were likely going to bring this up during the Gathering at the full moon.

“Any luck on your investigation?” Wolfstar inquired, to which Graytail shook his head with a grunt. “Nothing, Wolfstar. When I found Mossfeather, she was bad, but it seemed she didn't go down without a fight. She had dirt and grime all over, masking her killer’s scent, but a trail of blood led away and disappeared once it reached ShadowClan's borders, and I couldn't identify the scent. I suspect it was a rogue, and Clawpelt is pointing his tail at ShadowClan, but neither ShadowClan nor some rogues would even dare to venture this far into our territory, especially around that Twoleg camp. It's Newleaf now, so they should be arriving there soon.”

“Strange.” Wolfstar noted with a light mutter as he watched Goldenpaw, Bearpaw, and Shadepaw spar under the watchful eyes of their mentors. “All the other Clans reported similar incidents to your story at around the same time. Four cats, four seemingly healthy cats, murdered in broad dayl—” He stiffened up, his amber eyes widening. How could I have been this blind, all this time..? Could this be..—

“Hm? Something wrong, Wolfstar?" Graytail asked.

It was perhaps by a stroke of luck or just pure coincidence that Waspfoot interjected him with his usual yowling, calling for their leader back at the camp. Wolfstar flattened his ears and gave a groan—this meant that either Waspfoot was calling him back to talk about the omen, or something ridiculous again. “He's calling me. Again.” He informed Graytail with a sign. "Hopefully, I won't be long."

After Graytail gave a nod, Wolfstar left, quickly darting back for the camp. It didn’t take long for the brown tabby tom to enter the camp and make his way to the medicine cat den, which was currently being occupied by Foxfur, another senior warrior who had whitecough during leaf-bare and was summarily quarantined by Waspfoot in a rather hasty yet comical manner, even though her case was mild. There was also Waspfoot himself, the lanky tom pacing back and forth in his den as Wolfstar entered, raising his head to let out another screech-call for his leader. “WOOLLFSTA-

Wolfstar cringed, flattening his ears. “Right here, Waspfoot. You rang?”

“Ah, yes, you've come. Wolfstar, I want to grow catnip. I do not know how, but I will demand StarClan to teach me how, and I will do so. Oh, and I need chamomile, too. Just in case we take another long excursion to the Starcave." Waspfoot said, darting between various tasks—monitoring herbs, counting his stocks, and tending to Foxfur. “We barely survived that leaf-bare with this cretin’s whitecough. Were it not for my EXPERTISE in treating such a terrible disease, it would have worsened into GREENCOUGH and spread throughout the clan and picked us off like the Twolegs with their black sticks. By that time, there would be no more Foxfur, and no more ThunderClan. Bye bye, Foxfur, gone from GREENCOUGH! Bah!”

“I assure you, I’m fine.” Foxfur said, her normally elegant voice slightly more haggard than usual. “It was a milder leaf-bare than last season, and it'll take more than a cough to take down mighty me.”

“Agreed.” Wolfstar nodded. “In fact, I think this was a good leaf-bare, rarity of prey aside. Much better than last season.”

“Yes, yes, but we’re not done yet.” Waspfoot insisted with constant meows and gestures as he walked between the large tom and ginger she-cat. “The threat of GREENCOUGH is still high, so we must be PREPARED for it! I exhausted our reserves of catnip in treating Foxfur’s whitecough, but I need more. And chamomile. You happen to know where I will be able to find some catnip...and chamomile, Wolfstar.”

“..Er, yes..” Wolfstar nodded. “I do. The Plantation. The cats there are generous and would gladly let us get some if we needed it, and the Twolegplace may grow some, but I'm not certain the kittypets there would take too kindly to showing up unannounced. I’ll go inform the Warriors at Twin Pines to fetch some for you.”

“Much appreciated, Wolfstar!” Waspfoot cheerily mewed. “Now, you, Foxfur, you are still NOT well! Take everything that is given to you, and resume your duties ONLY when I deem you are well! Now have these herbs.”

Wolfstar left the den and returned to the Twin Pines, padding over to the two tall Pine trees. He returned to Graytail's side and called down to the cats to grab their attention. “That is enough for now.” He dipped his head to the three warriors and their respective apprentices. “I have a new task for you bunch now. Waspfoot has used up all our remaining catnip in treating Foxfur's whitecough. Barkclaw, I want you to lead the others and their apprentices to the Plantation and fetch us some more catnip...and chamomile. Why we need more is beyond my comprehension. You know the way well—and the apprentices need to do so, as well." He gave a nod to his deputy. "You may leave whenever you are ready.”

“But what about you, Wolfstar?” Clawpelt asked eagerly. “We still haven’t found the cat that murdered my mate. When I find him, I’ll flail him myself and turn him into crowfood.” He paused to look at his leader's facial expression. "...after we find him guilty after bringing him to justice."

Wolfstar sighed. “Graytail and I will continue our investigation into Mossfeather's death, so do not worry, Clawpelt. I’m using as many cats as I can to find them and bring them to justice, but I still need some guarding our territory as well, or else we'll stretch ourselves thin and leave ourselves open. Luckily for us, ShadowClan has agreed to form a truce to help us in our search, but Aeneas and his rogues are still a threat.”

“...I guess being the lover to the ShadowClan leader actually has its perks.” Clawpelt remarked, which warranted a stern glare from Wolfstar's amber eyes. “As I said, you may leave whenever you are ready, Barkclaw. Graytail, let's go."

The ThunderClan leader summarily left the area with the senior warrior, leaving Clawpelt, Barkclaw, and Moleclaw with their apprentices and a mission.




    Aeneas
    __________________________________

Everything about the Twolegplace made their noses wrinkle in disgust. The loud flying monsters, the obnoxious Twolegs, ever-present acrid stench, everything was terrible about it. But for the small group of nomadic rogues that made up Aeneas's nomadic group, it was better than nothing. The Clans never offered them a place to stay, nor did any loner in the forest, so they had to revert to force to stay wherever they could. It was perhaps by a stroke of luck that Sgt. Colton didn't find out that they were taking refuge near the Twolegs' carrionplace, and summarily drive them out. The plump kittypet was a bit bird-brained, but he and his friends could fight—not to mention, Aeneas wasn't going to take any chances if that kittypet somehow alerted the Twolegs of their presence. After all, it had worked with the pack of dogs—the dog that called himself Harley was driven out by the Twolegs, or, as he called them, the "Longpaws," but was now taking refuge in the forest, apparently with the Clans' knowledge...

The thought of the Clans allowing a group of dogs to live in their forest infuriated the cats of Aeneas's group. As such, with little things to carry out their anger on, many cats often resorted to fighting each other over basic commodities like sleeping areas and food, or, in Dengar and Bowie's case, something as trivial as a simple discussion of the previous leaf-bare. Both cats were at each others' throats, ready to settle their differences on the dirty, hot, and smelly grounds of the Twolegplace.

“Why don't you understand?! We just barely made it past that leaf-bare, Dengar!” Bowie snapped, to which Dengar snapped back with a growl. “We made it regardless, Bowie. Do you want to know why? We made it because we ate the Twoleg’s carrion, and lived, Bowie. We made it becuase Aeneas willed it. Somehow. Everyone had their fair share of prey to eat, and everyone lived. If that’s not the definition of surviving, then I don’t know what is. You got through this scot-free by surviving off of the scraps, like everyone else. Like I did. Stop complaining."

“You’re a cheat, and a liar, Dengar. You know that?” Bowie said, perhaps referring to the rogue’s good condition compared to the others—he seemed well-fed and was free of any scars, injuries, wounds, or poultices, as opposed to the vast majority of the other nomads under Aeneas's command, who all seemed to be suffering from some way, either out of hunger, sickness, or their many battle scars. “We all know you hogged the food supply with Poppy and Aeneas since you're Aeneas's old friend. Poppy, I can understand, but you? That's selfish." He hungrily glared at the black and white tom who, despite being smaller than Bowie was, had a much bigger muscle mass, and was the opposite of intimidated right now. "If I had to, I would’ve eaten you and Poppy both, raw. That was how hungry I was, Dengar... That's not surviving. That's struggling. You wouldn't even be delicious, I bet.”

Dengar snorted. “Oh, please, cry me a river, Bowie. I’m sure you’d do even more than just eat Poppy if you had the chance, you scum.”

Both cats unsheathed their claws and lunged each other, Dengar briefly overtaking Bowie in terms of power before they began wrestling for control on the ground, hissing and scratching one another. A veritable crowd of nomads surrounded them, urging the fight on with their yowling and calls, before a sudden, deeper yowl, caused them all to stop.

Stop it. All of you.” A deep voice from the corner of their encampment prompted both of the rogues and the others around them to halt, turning to face their leader. Aeneas stepped out from the shadows, his dark amber, almost red eyes judgingly glaring down both cats, while his fur was ruffled as usual. His fur stuck to his battle-scarred body, revealing powerful muscles hidden underneath his thick pelt, while the thicker mane-like tuft around his neck was regal as ever. He came out with Poppy, leaning a protective tail and shoulder over the young white she-cat, who seemed to be just above the age of an average apprentice in the clans, though was still younger compared to their warriors. Aeneas had trained her himself almost like a mentor, and was rather protective of her, given the scarcity of females in his group and her younger age, though she was well-hardened to battle and Aeneas's mysterious mannerisms. A cat could only dream, though...

The rogue leader glared at his underlings. “My two most loyal, most faithful enforcers...acting like a bunch of bird-brained simpletons. You should be ashamed of yourself, and thankful for what my expertise has provided this group.. You see, we have survived because we powered through that leaf-bare by sheer willpower alone. The Clans never cared for us, nor did the Plantation or Colton’s idiots at the Twolegplace, or that pack of dogs that are somewhere in the forest. We’ve cared for ourselves, as we always have. The clan cats and those dogs are misguided fools who think we are a bunch of barbaric rogues. No StarClan, no Great Dog in the Sky, no stealing, and no killing of our own was necessary for our survival.” He paced forwards, looming over both Dengar and Bowie by a longshot thanks to his height. “With that being said: leaf-bare is over. New-leaf will be upon us soon. Prey will be plentiful. You won’t have to whine about missing meals anytime soon, and you, Bowie, won't have to make any more ridiculous threats of eating your enemies out of sheer hunger. Our bellies will be full this new-leaf.”

“But.. how do you expect we're going to survive off of the Clans’ scraps, with those dogs in the forest now causing a ruckus?” Bowie tilted his head, to which Aeneas chuckled, briefly closing his reddish amber eyes. “I’ve been receiving more dreams, you see. I’ve seen things in my dreams that you cats wouldn’t believe in. Flying monsters that are like giant predators, soaring over the glowing mountains and Twoleg dens of the Twolegplace, and that can keep still in one place while flying. A vision of blood and darkness and fire in the Forest, and the Lake running red with blood, and a glowing red light bathing the Twolegplace. Though most of these visions are lost to me like pawprints in the snow, I have remembered many of them. In addition to my visions, I have trained, and trained, even in the dark forests of my dreams, with cats I do not know. Enemies of the clans and traitors, former rogues, the like—from times far before ours, too. They have taught me well and allowed me to improve as a leader and fighter..and even taught me how take a leader of all of his nine lives in one fell swoop."

“Poetic, but what does it mean for us?” Dengar asked.

“It means the Clans will be in disarray soon.” Aeneas said, pacing to an area where he could address his entire band of nomads. “Once they are in chaos, we shall act, and we shall prosper, taking back what should’ve been ours, but was selfishly kept by those Clan cats for many moons while we were cast aside and driven away. We’ve failed in the past, but now..with the rising tensions among the Clans—the paranoia, the fear—we have the perfect opportunity to act now. We shall finally have what is rightfully ours.”

Turning his head south, towards the massive Twin Pines of ThunderClan, and the burgundy roof of the Plantation covered in vines, he chuckled nefariously with a deep purr. “And I know where to start. Today is the day that the Plantation becomes ours, even if I must pry it from Zark's cold, dead claws.”
Last edited by Turmenista on Mon Mar 25, 2019 3:34 pm, edited 3 times in total.

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Skylus
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Postby Skylus » Sat Mar 23, 2019 4:33 pm

Goldenpaw
Twin Pines


Goldenpaw raced up to Barkclaw and started to bounce around in circles.
"We're going to plantation today?! Yeah! i can't wait to hunt things and bring them back to the camp!"
The young tabby paused.
"Maybe not, the last time I hunted by myself I got my scar."

And what a day that had been.

2 Months Ago
Near the Shadowclan Border

Goldenpaw crouched down, then pushed off the ground and sprung forwards. His paws came down on pure air and the young tabby sat down and spat.
"Mousebrains! I almost had something that time!"
A branch snapped behind him and the cat spun around to find himself looking up at a gigantic snarling dog.

"You're a long way from home, aren't you?", growled the creature, saliva dripping from his gaping mouth as he slowly advanced on the young Thunderclan apprentice.
"I was just practicing my hunting skills." mewed Goldenpaw quitely, his cerulean eyes wide.
The dog started laughing but then went silent, then spoke.
"You're in our territory, cat. Do you know what we do to cats who invade our territory?"
Goldenpaw shook his head.
"I suppose not. I'll show you then."
The brown Husky bent down, then leapt into the air and slammed Goldenpaw onto the ground, a paw on his side to keep the cat from getting up.
"When you make it back to your Clan, tell 'em that Ringo did this to you. If you were full grown, I would kill you, but since you're not, consider me to be merciful."
Ringo let Goldenpaw get up, then the dog slammed into him and the cat was thrown across the clearing.
Then, black claws swiped down and the cat's vision went white.

Goldenpaw had awakened sometime later, and somehow made it back to Thunderclan, where he had collapsed just outside the entrance. Crowbeak had found him and had carried him to Waspfoot. Goldenpaw didn't wake up for three days and when he did, the next few days were very unpleasant.
Ringo had given him a scar. A scar that ran down from below left eye down to the right side of his neck.

Present day

Goldenpaw caught himself staring off into the distance and moved his gaze to his mentor.
"So are we going to the plantation or not?!"
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Turmenista
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Postby Turmenista » Sun Mar 24, 2019 8:56 pm

    Clawpelt
    __________________________________

To say the least, the energetic nature of Goldenpaw was...palpable—uncomfortable, at most, but definitely there. Clawpelt could only nod his head along in agreement as the apprentice bounced around his mentor, a mixture of glee and excitement emanating from the apprentice. He snickered this off, before his attention was redirected towards his own apprentice: Bearpaw. Aside from being Shadepaw's sister, she, too, emanated that same energetic energy that Goldenpaw was practically brimming with, though, sadly, it seemed that his aggressive and jealous side had rubbed off on his apprentice a tad bit. The apprentices were all making remarkable improvements, yes, but Clawpelt felt that he especially had a responsibility to push them, stricken with grief and a desire to enact his revenge on his beloved's murderer.

The battle-scarred brown tom watched as Bearpaw padded away from her brother and Goldenpaw, still somewhat tired from their intense training, but still beaming with excitement. He especially had pushed Bearpaw to her limits in their many sparring sessions and other training drills, even outside these sort of drills, trying to groom her into a born and bred warrior—like he was with Wolfstar. However, because she wasn't as naturally aggressive or quick to battle as he was, it was quite difficult trying to get her to that aggressive mentality.

Maybe, it's for the best of her. Clawpelt could only give a sigh as he remembered his own warrior naming ceremony: after having fended off a group of Aeneas's nomadic rogues all by himself, where he limped back to camp covered in scars and victorious, it was a very satisfying moment, albeit one that was painful. But how would someone like Bearpaw take to an event like that? Would she want to undergo the same amount of pain as her mentor, all for that sweet chance of becoming a warrior? The answer was simple to him: it wasn't in her blood, but if he'd still push her to be the best, if his name wasn't Clawpelt.

"So.. Bearpaw.." Clawpelt nudged his apprentice, winking at her. "What do you say we..go on the offensive, this time?"

"What? What do you mean?" She asked, beady-eyed as ever. He looked briefly at Barkclaw and Moleclaw as they briefed their apprentices as well. "I mean, if Aeneas and his friends show up—which they will—we would normally have the apprentices guard Zark and the Catnip while we bore the brunt of the fighting. Is that not what you want? To be in the heat of the fight?"

"A little bit.." She mewed slightly as Clawpelt chuckled, his gaze down on his apprentice. "Good. Hopefully, you can show your brother and Goldenpaw what you're capable of. I only hope your friends are as battle ready as you are, Bearpaw."

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The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
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Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Sun Mar 24, 2019 10:02 pm

Shadepaw

Shadepaw looked over to the Thunderclan leader when he called out to the warriors of the clan. The pure white cat was already large even in his young age, and cut an intimidating figure as he loped over to where the others were gathering, sitting down next to his sister and Goldenpaw. He licked his claw as Wolfstar gave out his task. His sister's mentor brought up the old spat about his mate's killer. Shadepaw snorted a little to himself, finding Clawpelt's utter obsession with the tracking of the killer more amusing than anything else. Still though, grief did funny things to cats. He remembered times in the nursery when his sister was sleeping, tired from all the jumping about she did, and it was just him and his mother. It was then that she would tell him the tale of his father and stare out at the twin pines, growing quieter as the tale went on.

Wolfstar mentioned something about the plantation. Frankly, Shadepaw saw the task a little low for the six able bodied cats to be sent out for. While catnip was important and the ever present threat of Aeneas was there, Clawpelt was right on one account in that there was an unaccounted killer on their territory and they didn't even know if they were cat or dog. Wolfstar had what Furypelt called Cursed Conscience. He couldn't make the right choice, even if he knew what it was. Shadepaw didn't have a doubt in his mind that it would be the Leader's eventual downfall, at least according to his mother.

Walking over to Moleclaw, Shadepaw sat himself down and asked "So we're just going to get some catnip and then come back. Seems... like a small task for such a large portion of our forces."

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Absolon-7
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Postby Absolon-7 » Mon Mar 25, 2019 9:12 pm

Barkclaw
Barkclaw dutifully observed the apprentices in their mock battles for training. Three at a single training was an odd number for apprentices to train with but he supposed some of the other apprentices were too busy with other tasks. He wondered if any of them would be willing for an afternoon patrol to catch fresh-kill. This activity must be tiring but any apprentice worth their weight would jump at the opportunity to feed his clan. Barkclaw's head suddenly jerked to the incoming Wolfstar who greeted them warmly.

"Very well Wolfstar," nodded Barkclaw, "I figured it was time for this batch of apprentices to learn their way to the Plantation."

He glared at disapproval at Clawpelt's sudden interjection but he could sympathize. He lost someone dear to him recently thus it was only rational he'd lash out at any opportunity. Nevertheless, that in no way meant he had to like it or put up with such behavior. Especially not a jab at Wolfstar's so called affair with Shadowclan's leader. How wretched, thought Barkclaw. Goldenpaw, gleeful as always, bounded up to him with the same energy a frivolous mouse would have.

"Yes, yes. All of us are leaving right away. But take note this is a mission for our medicine cat not a leisurely hunt," bluntly stated Barkclaw. He licked the front of his left paw before bringing it up to wash a side of his cheek. "But if some prey just happens to be near us I wouldn't oppose..."

Barkclaw shook his head at the thought of goofing off while there remained a task to be done. He raised himself from he was resting and called out to the other two "claws" of the clan as some annoyingly grouped them. "Moleclaw. Clawplet. We're leaving at once follow me. You apprentices don't fall behind either."

Not slowing his pace for anything or anyone of them, Barkclaw slinked through the initial bushes outlining the training field and onto the wider forest. The distance between camp and the Plantation was not the greatest but keeping a decent pace was still important. Through woodland they passed on then onto a sizable meadow with a distinctive large boulder at one end. The large boulder was an important marker to recognize as a signal to the Plantation and as such he told the three apprentices. Through the thick grass and weeds the group passed before returning to woodland and not long after the utter absurdity of the Plantation could be seen. He recognized the structure as Two-leg dens long abandoned but he could not fathom their purpose or what they were made of. Luckily for the group bunches of catnip and chamomile grew wildly in between and in front of the structures.

"Everyone stay behind me," ordered Barkclaw, "Zark is usually amiable but I'll handle talking to any Plantation cats. They might have heard of the recent murders and be on edge. And take as much of catnip and chamomile as you can carry, apprentices. Your mentors will tell you how to tell them apart."
Last edited by Absolon-7 on Mon Mar 25, 2019 9:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Turmenista
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Postby Turmenista » Sat Apr 06, 2019 1:43 pm

    Clawpelt
    __________________________________

Barkclaw led the way, slithering through the thick underbrush like a snake as they exited the training field and entered the larger forest. The sun prodded through the gaps in the canopy above, briefly showering light over each of them as they moved in one, unified group. Although the distance between the ThunderClan camp and the Plantation wasn't that large, it was still easy to get lost in areas like this, if you didn't pay attention. They passed through a few meadows—one with a large boulder at the end, serving as a marker that Clawpelt had passed by many times during his time as an apprentice, and, now, a warrior. This signaled to them that they were approaching the plantation, if the incoming clearing with overgrown fences, ruined farmlands, and the large structure in the background didn't give it away already.

Barkclaw signaled them with his tail to keep close as they approached the overgrown, abandoned Twoleg den. Clawpelt honestly never understood what the Plantation was for, or why the Twolegs abandoned it, but it had its use in serving as a shelter for the Plantation cats, and as a place where catnip, chamomile, and other valuable herbs grew frequently. Thankfully, the Plantation cats were more than happy to share their herbs with the Clan cats.

The minty scent intruded his nose as he almost stepped past Barkclaw, were it not for his sudden order to keep behind the deputy. He explained that the Plantation cats could be on edge after gaining word of the murders, which was understandable. Hearing a noise inside, he turned his head to the abandoned Twolegplace, watching as three cats stepped out of the structure, shoulder to shoulder. Three cats he knew well: Starbuck, the strangely spotted golden tom, Twitch, the gray and white she-cat, and Zark himself, the pure black tom that was the "leader" of the other two cats. Barkclaw gave a respectful nod to the cats, tipping his head upwards. "Those are the Plantation cats, Bearpaw. Zark, Twitch, and Starbuck."

Zark returned the greeting with his cheerful-as-ever demeanor as they approached the cats to greet them. "Heya, ThunderClan cats! What can we do for ya?"

Clawpelt looked at the others for a moment. "Uh, hello. Wolfstar sent us to get some catnip for the Clan."

"...and chamomile." Bearpaw poked her mentor, who quickly corrected himself. "Right. Chamomile, too."

"Well, if its chamomile and catnip, we've got it all." Starbuck explained. "Your visits have been a little less frequent—usually, we'd see you cats come down every moon or so." He approached Clawpelt in particular, circling around him slowly in a manner that, honestly, made the battle-scarred warrior a little uncomfortable from how close he was getting to himself and his apprentice. He gulped as Starbuck came to a halt in front of the tom, looking into his scarred face and tilting his head to the side. "So, friendo. What's been happening beyond the Plantation?"

"Nothing good." Clawpelt shook his head as the cat nodded. "We've had some setbacks with leaf-bare, nothing major, but recently we've had some mouse-dung!"

"What?" Starbuck, Zark, and Twitch all looked at him in confusion as the brown tabby tom turned to the treeline, flattening his ears. "We aren't the only ones out here."

The underbrush rustled once, then twice, then out came a wild Waspfoot, the lanky medicine cat meandering over to the plantation after cursing something away from his head in an unintelligible manner. He swatted away a dark bird that had landed on his shoulder, hissing at it as it flew away from him post haste. "Blasted, dungfaced Twolegs! Blasted, dungfaced birds! Can either of them ever understand anything?"

"Waspfoot!" Surprised, Clawpelt called to the cranky medicine cat, who turned to the half dozen plus three group of cats, a sour look on his face from his impromptu bird attack, and whatever the Twolegs had done. "Yes, hello! After having debated about the topic with Foxfur for quite some time, I have COME to help you RETRIEVE the catnip...and the chamomile, and give some extra muscle in case of unwanted conflict. After all, Aeneas may use this CHAOS plaguing the clans now to take advantage and attack the Plantation! That is, if the storm does not dissuade them."

"Storm? Aeneas? Chaos?" Zark squinted his eyes. "What's going on here?"

Evidently ignoring the Plantation leader, Waspfoot continued, first gesturing up to the steadily darkening clouds that had begun to clump up and cover parts of the sky. "That storm. Now, these blasted TWOLEGS and their—" a sharp, ear-splitting crackle was suddenly heard throughout the forest, birds flapping away as the noise dissipated. "..Idiot-sticks have come to kill some wild hogs. Imagine that! Twolegs hunting? Wild hogs, nonetheless? Can you believe it?"

"We should get inside, then." Zark nodded to the cats, motioning for them to enter the overgrown Twoleg den. Twolegs roaming about meant that only trouble was bound for whoever was spotted outside, especially with the Twolegs roaming around in pelts that made them hard to spot and wielding sticks that blew fire, and with any dogs they had on leashes. He and his comrades disappeared into the building, motioning for them to follow. Natural light peeked through the open and ruined windows, though, the broken glass on some of the windows dissuaded anyone from using them as an entry point.




Very few animals had symbiotic relationships with other animals. One of the few exceptions were ravens and wolves—the corvids here had formed a sort of "hunter-killer" relationship with their canid partners. Where there were wolves, there were often ravens and crows that followed the canids to grab leftovers from their hunts, or just to tease the wolves. Here, it was different: the black bird landed on a branch beside the den, the stench of death ever-present as it dropped a bundle of fur from its beak.

Inside the den, a beast stirred, its amber eyes locking onto the clump of fur as it stood up, growling. "I see now. I see. I'll find them. East.. East. Yes."

The raven looked back at the amber eyes of the coyote, its eyes soulless and blank as it flew away, leaving the coyote to leave its den slowly.

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Skylus
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Posts: 6496
Founded: Oct 25, 2016
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Skylus » Sat Apr 06, 2019 6:04 pm

Goldenpaw
Plantation


Goldenpaw leapt back as the strange bird attacked Waspfoot, then crept closer.
"Are you okay, Waspfoot? Did the strange bird hurt you at all?"
His cerulean eyes were huge.
"That bird was massive, do you know what kind it was?"

The young tom jumped as a crackle resounded throughout the forest.
"What was that?!"
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Turmenista
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Posts: 5765
Founded: Apr 09, 2014
Ex-Nation

Postby Turmenista » Sun Apr 07, 2019 8:23 am

    Waspfoot
    __________________________________

The lanky medicine cat gave a gruff grunt as he rubbed the area on his shoulder that had been attacked by the bird. Honestly, it astonished him that such a bird was trying to attack him. Turning to Barkclaw’s apprentice, Goldenpaw, he tilted his head at his unusual comment about the bird, and overall curiosity. “Corvid. Crows, ravens, the like. These insolent BIRDS took some fur from pelt, but they could not take my FLESH. They’ll eat anything, dead or alive. Even little APPRENTICES like you. THAT is how desperate they are.”

“Guess it gives a new meaning to Crow-food.” Clawpelt passively remarked with a small laugh, causing the medicine cat to stomp on over as the Plantation cats chuckled. “Be glad that I do not have exceptional hearing like YOU do, CLAWPELT! If I had heard what you had said, and NOT liked it, I would surely berate you for your remark.”

He then spontaneously turned to the other warriors. “Shadepaw.. Bearpaw, Goldenpaw. You go with that one to find the chamomile.. and catnip.”

Realizing he was the one the medicine cat was referring to, Starbuck let out a meek sound. “Uhh.. me?”

“YES, you! Please help me help these wonderful apprentices find the herbs. After all, you DO know the difference, don’t you?”

The spotted to relictently gave a nod, beginning to lead the other apprentices further into the Plantation. Meanwhile, Clawpelt looked out the window, at the darkening storm clouds and imposing trees all around the structure. For all he cared, the Plantation cats were as good as done for. Surrounded on all sides like this, any attack would be devastating and swift, and they’d have nowhere to go. Would a cat like Aeneas really risk it all in trying to raid now, or was he planing something different?

Another crackle pierced the air, but not of thunder. The Twolegs were evidently getting closer, but what they were up to was, as of now, unknown.
Last edited by Turmenista on Sun Apr 07, 2019 9:03 am, edited 1 time in total.


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