| I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. |
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INVENTORY
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Post by Ginger on Jul 4, 2019 22:11:22 GMT -5
Constant chattering. There was absolutely no escape from the hell that Frostjaw was currently suffering through. Deep blue pools stared intensely in the distance, trying to zone out of the squadron of she-cats trying to get his attention. Sparrowpelt, Cardinalfrost, and Snakeflower. Ever so persistent. Question after question they asked him, Frostjaw doing nothing but nodding or shaking his head in response, refusing to look any of them in the eye. That would give them too much satisfaction.
The large warrior despised attention and affection. They were signs of weakness both physically and mentally. A truly strong cat desired no attention nor adoration from others. Yet these weak-willed females wanted both from him. So incredibly shallow. Frostjaw, although incredibly bothered, kept a calm outer shell, his slowly narrowing eyes the only thing betraying his inner feelings. He needed an escape. Anything would do at this point. Please Starclan, get me out of this.
A movement to the right caught the tom's watchful eye. Without turning his head, Frostjaw narrowed in on the slender figure exiting the camp. She moved with an incredible grace, her long tail seemingly billowing behind her. The warrior noticed that she was trying her best to avoid interaction with the clan's guards. Frostjaw only knew of one other Nightclan cat who despised small talk as much as he did: Brindlemask. While he had never interacted with the she-cat, he had been amongst the circles of cats who debated her loyalty to Nightclan. Frostjaw had always scoffed at them: her detachment from such earthly connections surely made her stronger.
Frostjaw longed for any other company besides his current posse of she-cats, but Brindlemask seemed even more interesting than he could have hoped for. It would certainly be better for the clan for two warriors such as ourselves to do something helpful. Without speaking to the three warrioresses, Frostjaw stood up and padded towards the exit of the camp, giving a curt nod to the guards as he left.
Upon emerging out of the tunnel and into the forest, Frostjaw quickly caught sight of Brindlemask's torbie figure. His pace quickened until he had caught up to her, silently looking towards her. "Mind if I join whatever it is you are doing? You seem like an actual productive member of the clan."
383 words Abyss Notes: left it super open-ended, so these two can go on whatever adventure you would like! |
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| "Monster is a relative term. To a canary, a cat is a monster. We're just used to being the cat." |
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Staff
GorgeClan Leader
MistClan Medicine Cat
INVENTORY
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Post by Abyss on Jul 13, 2019 21:55:20 GMT -5
TELL ME BABY, WHAT'S YOUR STORY?
The morning had been quiet, calm, peaceful. Just how the torbie she-cat enjoyed it. Having spent most of the morning lying alongside her mother by the Warrior’s den, watching the rain fall from the sky, the distant member of Nightclan eventually needed something more to do other than stay there. Her parting had been brief, but it always was. As she stood, she leaned her head down, nuzzled her mother’s neck, gave her a quick lick across the ear, then went on her way. Despite not having been assigned to any patrols or being told to leave camp, this was her plan.
But, as usual, she had no desire to be lectured by the guards who remained at the camp entrance. Luckily, it was known by most, if not all, that she was a cat who came and went as she pleased unless told otherwise. So, as she walked to and through the camp entrance, tail slightly waving behind her, all she heard was a mumble from one of them, advising her to avoid the Treeclan border. She did that anyway, so there had been no necessity behind their statement, but the sentiment was appreciated, however small.
In truth, Brindlemask didn’t have any particular plan when she chose to leave camp. She usually didn’t. It just depended on what happened while she was out. Should she catch the scent of some prey, she would do some hunting. If there wasn’t anything in particular happening and there were no signs of prey, she would just wander, occasionally marking borders if she happened upon them.
Before the independent Warrioress could get very far into her departure, though, she heard fast-paced footsteps following behind her. A slight confusion washing over her, her small black paws came to a stop mid-step, her head slightly turning. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a bright figure approaching her, which was strange, for no one ever accompanied her during these times away from camp. When the feline fully came into view, she was surprised to find that it was Frostjaw, a large and especially long-furred white tom who she had never really talked to. She had very short encounters with him during the few times that Blackstag attempted to court her or drag her into his little rag-tag group of misfits. But she had never really known him personally, except for the giggling and gossiping she occasionally heard when walking passed attention-seeking she-cats.
As he reached her, she found her light amber-brown eyes scanning over his features momentarily. A broad face, a large mane of snow white fur, a surprisingly clean coat, and a pair of striking gray-blue eyes. It was clear why many of the Nightclan she-cats found themselves drawn to him; he was indeed handsome. But that was all of those other females. Brindle had never shown much interest in romance. She wouldn’t deny that there were some toms in the clan of whom she would find her eyes drawn to, should they be out in the open, but it was nothing as trivial as a crush or seeking their affections.
When the tom spoke, his deep voice echoing through her own long-furred ears, she was surprised to find him requesting that he accompany her. How strange. While she didn’t particularly desire the presence of another, she wasn’t opposed to it either. She was silent at first, a hint of curiosity in her eyes and a light swish of her tail behind her, before she finally spoke.
“You may do as you wish.” Her response was calm, as was her voice. It was quite likely that many of her clanmates had heard this same phrase from her before. If someone asked for any sort of permission to do something that involved her, as long as it was nothing that would injure her, she would say this. After all, who was she to tell someone what they could or couldn’t do? If the muscular white tom wished to join her, he could do as he pleased.
Giving a slight nod towards him, more so in a quick display of respect, the torbie she-cat then turned and continued walking, her jaws ever so slightly parted in case any scents happened to fill her nose and her ears constantly turning.
WHERE YOU COME FROM AND WHERE YOU WANNA GO THIS TIME?
WARRIORESS OF NIGHTCLAN |
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| I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. |
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INVENTORY
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Post by Ginger on Jul 18, 2019 22:36:36 GMT -5
Frostjaw nodded his head with respect as Brindlemask accepted his self-invitation. She was not a warrior known for being close to anyone, for letting others get close to her. It was refreshing. The two accomplished warriors walked in silence for a time, marking here and there, stopping at the sounds of prey rustling. The massive white tom found himself becoming more and more comfortable as the two cats shared in the routine activities of warriors on patrol.
As they neared a marshy clearing, Frostjaw raised his nose in disdain. He hated to get his white coat muddy. While the devout tom had no qualms with getting his paws dirty (in many ways) to serve both his clan and Starclan, he usually did anything possible to ignore getting incredibly dirty when he was just on his own. Lightening his footfalls so that they would not sink as far into the mud, Frostjaw looked over to Brindlemask, her torbie figure moving near him. "Starclan blessed you with a pelt made for serving Nightclan." Gesturing at his own bright white fur, he sighed gently. "I, on the other hand, was...less blessed in that area."
Large ears pricked at the sound of something hopping about in the wet clearing. Must have been a large frog. Frostjaw expectantly looked at Brindlemask; the strikingly white tom knew that he was not fit to sneak after prey, he was much too noticeable. Besides, Frostjaw was genuinely interested in seeing how Starclan blessed Brindlemask's abilities of stealth and the hunt. Could be useful in the future.
259 words Abyssnote: this is as close to flirting as he gets haha |
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| "Monster is a relative term. To a canary, a cat is a monster. We're just used to being the cat." |
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Staff
GorgeClan Leader
MistClan Medicine Cat
INVENTORY
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Post by Abyss on Jul 22, 2019 21:45:08 GMT -5
TELL ME BABY, WHAT'S YOUR STORY?
The two Nightclan Warriors stalked through the territory, hardly speaking a word. The she-cat of the pair found herself growing surprised as they walked. Typically, her walks through the territory, her time away from her clan, it was all so quiet and peaceful. When the large tom had approached her, she half expected that this little venture wouldn’t be quite so comforting and routine. Yet it was almost as if nothing was different. The silence, the peace, the calm feeling that she felt under her pelt. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was that reminder in her head and the occasional brush of pelts that reminded her she wasn’t alone.
She almost found the company of Frostjaw soothing, in a way, almost like she was with her mother in camp. They didn’t speak, yet they both enjoyed the silence and still understood that their company together was, you could say, better that way. The same could be said for this time she spent with Frostjaw. She didn’t know him very well, but the fact that he wasn’t one to immediately look for a conversation-starter was thankful to the she-cat of few words.
When he finally did speak, she did find herself momentarily hoping that it was only a mere comment and nothing more so that the silence would return. But when she heard what he said, she slightly tilted her head. Her steps came to a stop and her head turned, both eyes trained on the white tom. She found herself becoming confused by his statement, and it showed in her eyes. ‘A pelt made for serving Nightclan’? She glanced at her body for a few silent moments before looking to his. Obviously, there was a large difference between them in many ways. As she turned away and continued to walk once more, her gentle voice spoke her thoughts.
“Your pelt does not decide which clan you are best suited for. It is your skill and natural talents.” She paused momentarily to look back at him, now realizing what it was he was really talking about. She had a dark-furred pelt, one that was covered in many colors and patterns. Should she be covered in mud, dirt, or anything else, it would likely not be noticeable. Frostjaw, on the other hand, had a pelt that all things not-white were drawn to. She could see his hesitation and his sudden change in posture when they reached the muddy clearing. She was silent for another moment, examining him, before she spoke again.
“Hunger in the stomachs of our clanmates can only be removed by us fulfilling our duties to the fullest. This time is meant to be spent as a Warrior, not a neat Queen, ” the Warrioress stated, her voice in no way irritable or insulting. She didn’t seem to be scolding him or anything similar, but she had basically just said ‘stop being a baby and do your job’ in the nicest way possible without meaning to do so. In her mind, she was just stating the obvious in a very calm way.
She turned away from the tom once more, walking into the mud without a second thought and ears perked, listening for any out of the ordinary sounds. When she did hear the hopping, her body froze. She didn’t tense, but she turned into a statue. The frog was straight ahead of her, turned to the side and looking ahead. Her eyes narrowed in on the small figure, allowing her mind to concentrate on nothing but the frog. Her body very slowly began to move, her legs slowly lowering her closer to the ground, the fur that fell from her chest and stomach touching the mud beneath her before she actually began to move forward. Even then, she didn’t walk straight towards the frog, but rather angled herself and began to walk diagonally to the back of it. Her paws were light, and while they did sink into the mud, she barely lifted them off the ground after each step, allowing any excess water and mud to fall from her paws much more quietly than if she lifted them higher. Each step was slow and careful as she finally got behind the small creature, her body finally aligning straight forward with her head. The frog had taken another hop or two forward, but she was behind it now, so it didn’t see her. Even though her movements before had been slow, now they were even more slow as she got closer to the frog.
Its head turned. The feline froze. A strange action, her eyes closed. She waited, completely frozen and with no sight. It was unclear what she was doing unless one looked closely. Her ears were fully turned forward, facing the frog. When the prey let out a small croak and there was a small splash, the she-cat opened her eyes once more and began to move forward again. The frog had turned back forward and hopped forward again. When she had closed the distance between them in half, she froze again. Her tail twitched behind her, but not in an anxious way. They were deliberate twitches. The frog let out a small croak. Twitch. Another croak. Twitch. Another slightly higher pitched croak. Twitch. When the frog croaked one more time, the she-cat launched forward, her claws unsheathing mid-air and digging into the back of the frog, resulting in a loud series of panicked croaks and squeals. With the claws on one paw dug into the skin of the frog’s back, she pressed her other paw against the top of the frog’s head, its face being buried in the mud. The body kept moving for a minute, but came to a quick stop with a quick movement of her paw that was on its head. She had stepped on its neck.
She took a step backwards off of the frog and bent her neck down, jaws grabbing one of the frog’s legs through the mud and lifting it from the ground, turning to look at Frostjaw once more.
WHERE YOU COME FROM AND WHERE YOU WANNA GO THIS TIME?
WARRIORESS OF NIGHTCLAN |
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| I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. |
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INVENTORY
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Post by Ginger on Jul 27, 2019 15:09:11 GMT -5
Frostjaw raised his eyes with the slightest hint of warmth at Brindlemask's blunt comment. He had not expected the torbie she-cat to be so up-front, but he appreciated it. There were too many cats who spoke words that lacked even an ounce of truth. "You speak with a refreshing honesty." He did not need to say more, for Frostjaw was not a fan of flattery, simply preferring to state facts. With a slow blink and a mental reminder to groom a little more thoroughly later, Frostjaw fully sank his paws into the mud, watching as they turned from a brilliant white to a murky brown.
Icy blue eyes shifted from his massive paws to Brindlemask as she stalked after the frog in the distance. The way she moved after the frog, becoming one with the terrain, was quite incredible to watch. She was an excellent huntress. Frostjaw, on the other hand, was more capable at fighting cats than hunting for prey. Unless the prey he was going after was poor-sighted, his white fur tended to get him spotted very quickly.
Nodding his head in approval at Brindlemask as she looked to him after her catch, Frostjaw walked over to she dutiful she-cat. Without saying anything else, he continued to walk past her, knowing she would continue to patrol with him. The rhythm that the two warriors had developed during their walk was a good one.
A large pecking noise resounded through the night air. Woodpecker. Frostjaw looked around the trees on the edge of the small clearing until his eyes caught side of a small red and black figure on a tree. While he was no sneaky cat, the massive white tom was an incredibly powerful one, so his hunting tended to be focused on flying creatures.
The tom circled around behind the tree, taking the long way so that his white fur would not be spotted by the bird. It was not a technique that worked often, but this woodpecker was very focused on the tree, not looking side to side, unaware of its impending doom.
Stepping closer and closer, Frostjaw could practically taste the bird as its scent increased in potency. The large warrior positioned himself directly under the bird, crouched low, and sprang up to it in one fluid motion, catching the bird between his jaws and sticking his claws into the tree. Frostjaw, despite his size, did rather enjoy climbing. It brought him closer to the stars, closer to his true leaders. To catch prey this close to the stars felt like a true gift from Starclan.
Slowly lowering himself from the tree, Frostjaw walked back to where he had left Brindlemask. Now both cats had prey, although her frog was much more impressive. The bird that the white warrior had caught would feed a couple apprentices, but that frog could feed a few warriors. It seemed that Starclan itself had blessed Brindlemask in similar yet different ways than Frostjaw, but he knew for a fact that both warriors were gifted with abilities made for serving Nightclan.
A great sense of respect began to form in that moment. One that would only grow.
The white warrior flicked his tail, ready to follow the torbie she-cat around the territory.
542 words Abyss |
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| "Monster is a relative term. To a canary, a cat is a monster. We're just used to being the cat." |
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Staff
GorgeClan Leader
MistClan Medicine Cat
INVENTORY
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Post by Abyss on Aug 16, 2019 13:29:00 GMT -5
TELL ME BABY, WHAT'S YOUR STORY?
The torbie she-cat watched calmly and without expression as the large tom nodded his approval and passed her. She stood still for a moment, watching after him as he seemed to catch the scent of more prey. She only kept her gaze trained on him long enough to see him stalking around a tree before she turned away, taking slow and quiet steps through the mud and out of the clearing. She neared one of the trees just outside of the clearing and began digging into its roots, making a hole large enough to fit the frog.
But this was also just as she heard pawsteps. Her head turned, toad still hanging from her jaws, as Frostjaw approached with a woodpecker hanging from his own jaws. Upon seeing this, her tail lightly swished behind her before she turned, digging the hole a little bit bigger. She placed her toad within the hole before taking a few steps back, motioning to the hole with her tail and amber eyes locked on him once more.
She waited just briefly for the large tom to place his prey within the hole before she turned, continuing her walk to nowhere in particular. She did glance back momentarily to check and see if he had started following her again, which she did find him to be sooner or later.
As the pair walked in silence, Brindlemask kept her mouth just barely open, constantly in search of any signs of prey. It wasn’t until they soon began to near the Branch Trail that the Warrioress paused, looking around them. Her eyes did move passed the trail, though, and towards the border that she knew wasn’t too far ahead of them passed the trail.
“Are you one who thinks we should be fighting against Treeclan?” The question was a bit out of the blue, but did seem intensional. Her eyes remained forward, but her ears had rotated towards Frostjaw, curious to see how he took the question.
WHERE YOU COME FROM AND WHERE YOU WANNA GO THIS TIME?
WARRIORESS OF NIGHTCLAN |
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| I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. |
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INVENTORY
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Post by Ginger on Aug 25, 2019 9:35:59 GMT -5
Frostjaw nightclan warrior 26 moons The two warriors moved in a comfortable silence, using all of their senses to make sure Nightclan's territory was free of trespassers. As their hybrid of a patrol and a walk took them closer to Treeclan's border with Nightclan, Frostjaw felt himself becoming more alert. The Treeclan cats could not be trusted to stay out on their side of the Deer Path.
Brindlemask's sudden question startled Frostjaw ever so slightly. Of course he didn't like Treeclan, but did that mean that he would be willing to just hop across the border and start a battle? Maybe it did, maybe it didn't.
Large paws slowed from a walking pace to a stop, and Frostjaw looked Brindlemask directly into her amber-brown eyes. "Treeclan has broken all potential trust between them and Nightclan many times over. I have a lot of thoughts on this." His deep voice trailed off into silence on his last few words as the white warrior pondered what it was he really wanted to do in the situation against Treeclan. He had no doubt that some of Treeclan's warriors were pious cats who served their clan. They couldn't help that they were brought up in a weaker clan. Treeclan's leader, however, was a whole different argument. Yes, Lionstar had been gifted nine lives from Starclan itself, but he was the one driving Treeclan into the dirt.
"The cats in Treeclan that are a direct threat to Nightclan and our fragile peace...They must be removed. Starclan has no love for murderers like that Brackenstride. The others just need to be taught a lesson, whatever that means for them."
Cocking his head to the side after a rustling in the bushes caught his ear, Frostjaw was interrupted from the tangent he was about to go off on. It was probably best to not disclose everything to a cat he had not shared many conversations with. He needed to know her way of thinking before continuing on. "What about you, Brindlemask? What thoughts does the idea of a potential fight with Treeclan evoke?"
only in darkness can you see the stars |
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| "Monster is a relative term. To a canary, a cat is a monster. We're just used to being the cat." |
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Staff
GorgeClan Leader
MistClan Medicine Cat
INVENTORY
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Post by Abyss on Aug 26, 2019 14:59:06 GMT -5
TELL ME BABY, WHAT'S YOUR STORY?
As their walk ended and turned into that of a discussion, the torbie she-cat allowed herself to take a seat next to the large white tom, her tail curling neatly around her and laying on her paws. Her amber-brown gaze locked onto his own as he spoke.
She hadn’t expected anything different from him. He fully believed that Treeclan was weak and that Nightclan was fully superior. He also thought that Nightclan had some sort of peace when Treeclan left them alone. She lightly shook her head, but allowed him to continue. Though, to her surprise, he redirected the same sort of question onto her. She considered her answer for a moment before beginning her own thoughts.
“You say that Treeclan has broken our trust many times, yet we are not much different. It was our clan that lead the ambush that got Blackwolf killed, after all.” She knew that what she had just said would set off so many of her clanmates if they heard. But she did not care. She lifted her tail briefly to make sure that Frostjaw would remain silent, for she was not finished. “No, Brackenstride killing Blackwolf was not necessary in the slightest. But consider how it would have been if Treeclan had been the ones to ambush us. If one of us was fighting for our life in self defense against a cat that suddenly appeared and attacked, we would be fully willing to kill them to save ourselves.”
Her gaze turned back towards the general direction of the Treeclan border. “You see, this is why many of our clanmates look down on me. Nightclan is a clan full of overly proud and aggressive cats that believe our clan in superior to all others. I do hold Nightclan on the highest regard, as all of our clanmates should. But I also know that the other clans are strong as well. They don’t fight the same way as us, or think the same way, but that does not make them weak. Whether anyone believes it or not, Treeclan is strong, as are the other clans. Our pride prevents us from seeing that.”
Her eyes turned back to Frostjaw once more to give her final thought on the matter before she handed over the reins to him. “None of us can prevent Darkstar from ordering an attack on Treeclan. I know this. I just hope that she does stop to consider what it is that she is starting before she throws out orders in rage.”
WHERE YOU COME FROM AND WHERE YOU WANNA GO THIS TIME?
WARRIORESS OF NIGHTCLAN |
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