Please take the time to read through our Newleaf Announcement for how our five Clans will be merging into three, led by our current active leaders (Silverstar, Owlstar, and Clovermask/star).
We also have a territory contest where we're challenging members to come up with what the Clans' territories will look like after disaster strikes! Prey and badges are among the rewards for participating!
Happy New Year! After the tumultuous year 2020 brought us, staff have decided to extend the December hiatus into January!
High ranks are not required to meet their usual post quota, and you are still free to roleplay, but things may be a little slower around the site!
Staff are recovering from the year as well, so please be patient with us, as it may take some time for us to accept applications and update things. Let's make 2021 a great year for Fate!
** Special Note: Another predator will be spotted in the valley in the coming days. Keep an eye out for the next batch of the Tooth & Claw event!
Post by FABRICATION ★ on May 31, 2020 5:56:21 GMT -5
you got that last dance look in your eyes
nightclan she-cat 14 moons
She didn't exactly like this job. But who did? She had naturally drawn the short bone and now here she was, with a rank mouse-bile stick clutched in her jaws. Her nose crinkled in aversion at the odour. Ever since Batcry had passed away, the elder's den had only grown more populated, not less. And as much as Bramblepaw did love her grandmother, the responsibility of taking care of the elderly wasn't exactly pleasant. It seemed a little sad to shove into that small, smooth little side-cave and not see the ragged old black tom heaped in the corner. He hadn't been family, or particularly friendly to her, but her litter had grown up with his jumbled narratives. "Ay got mouth bile." She lisped around the stick, setting it down ungracefully. "Alright! Who here have got the worst ticks?" She meowed, sounding comically commanding. She seemed like a budding general, about to rage war on the parasites troubling the elders.
The days had blended into one another, and what had been the mind-numbing routine of a warrior turned into bleak, detached darkness. He hardly moved nowadays, and the lean body he had was no longer. Where muscle once rippled now rested an elderly softness, though Rookshade’s eyes were sharp with pain. He didn’t realize how sensitive he actually was, apparently physically and emotionally. Every step Bramblepaw took just shoved the thorn deeper.
Was it self-pity? Part of him felt entitled to it, being harshly rejected by his father up until the tom’s demise. Being crippled by his desire for honor and acknowledgement. Losing his mother. Not having any friends to fill the void in his heart, the hole that had grown from a small prick to a gaping crater over the years. There was so much he didn’t have, and the breath in his lungs didn’t feel deserved either.
Though part of him still felt like he had to fight. If not for himself, for Shadowchaser.
Rookshade rested his head lethargically on his paws with a weighty exhale, yellow-green eyes tracing Bramblepaw’s authoritative form thoughtfully.
“Ratfur,” He chided through his paws, voice hoarse from disuse. “Ratfur has the biggest parasites.”
Might as well have a little fun, if you could call it that.
She wasn't asked to help. But, the young molly didn't want to seem like she didn't want to help. She was really trying to stand up on her own two paws and not be so shy and scared all the time. So, when she noticed that Bramblepaw was going out to gather some mouse bile to go pick out the fleas off the elder's backs she figured it would be horrible if no one helped the pretty apprentice. So, silently and without being prompted the white and grey she-cat had followed her den mate and followed her example. She honestly didn't know if her fellow apprentice clan mate was doing this out of the goodness of her heart or because she got in trouble; Mousepaw wouldn't have been surprised. Cats could get into trouble rather easily and quickly within Nightclan. Or at least that's how Mousepaw saw it but she didn't voice the opinion. She's said a lot of nasty things about her clan that she honestly was far from proud of being born into. But she reminded herself no matter which clan she lived in it didn't matter the clan or family she was born into it was what she made herself in the situation and place she was raised and born in.
So that being said, she had decided no longer would she be ridiculed and looked down upon in disgust just because she was timid and small. Her confidence had built up slowly over time when she became an apprentice and learned that Nightclan was not filled with cats like her parents; not all of them at least. She'd grown fond of a few apprentices in the den that had shared their stories with her and befriended her. Breezepaw and Cricketpaw being a few of them. She hadn't taken the time to talk with Bramblepaw all that much since it only had been recently since she decided to break from her shell. Maybe this would be her opportunity to get to know her and see the elders of the clan.
A part of her was in trepidation to go see the elders. They had lived in this clan for so long and most of them probably knew her and her parents just like a lot of the newest generation born into the clan. What were the elders like though? She always had wondered if they were as scary as her parents were. Maybe they were scary and mean like Blackstag, or maybe they were rather nice but tired of life lived in this too proud of a clan.
Shaking her head she quickly made after Bramblepaw with her own moss ball soaked in mouse bile they had gotten for the elders and followed in silence. She wasn't good at speaking up and making her presence known. So she merely followed behind and entered right behind the other molly who at this point may have already known she was there; she didn't hide her presence any.
"Hi Rookshade, hi everyone." she mumbled around the gross moss in her mouth; desperately trying to keep her tongue from touching the disgusting thing in her mouth.
"Hope you don't mind me following in with you Bramblepaw. I figured you might want some help. Better to get it done faster when there are more of us working together." she offered giving the apprentice a hopeful glance; still not used to meeting other's eyes very easily.
"Rookshade would you like me to get any ticks or fleas out?" she offered turning to the elder who spoke up first. "O-Or I can take Ratfur if you prefer Bramblepaw?" if he really was one with lots of ticks and fleas Bramblepaw probably didn't want to do it. Mousepaw didn't mind it too much. She'd talked with Ratfur before; very briefly but she knew him anyways.
Life took on a certain monotony, he had learned after many seasons in the warrior’s den and many more among the elders. If one were to close their eyes and simply let time carry them on, then the moons blended together, broken up only by the cooling and warming of the weather and the attentions of nosy former apprentices who did not understand when their presence was not wanted. Ratfur had been trying to do just that – rest his eyes and take advantage of the relative quiet now that he had successfully convinced Oakblaze to pester some other unfortunate soul – when an overly enthusiastic apprentice and her timid friend decided to interrupt what had been shaping up to be quite a pleasant nap. Irritated green eyes snapped open, pinning the two she-cats with an unimpressed glare as he silently wished misery upon them and all of their loved ones.
Bramblepaw and Mousepaw. The former tackled life with a disgusting amount of zeal that made her as obnoxious as her mentor, while the latter lacked so much of a spine that she would startle at her own shadow. He wrinkled his nose at them, eyeing the glob of mouse bile dangling precariously on the end of Bramblepaw’s stick before shifting to the wad of moss held in Mousepaw’s mouth. Disgusting. Rather vindictively, Ratfur hoped they would be tasting it for days. It would serve them right for waking him up.
From off to the side a rough voice croaked a response to the question that he had thus far been ignoring, and the words sent another spike of irritation through him. The fur along his spine bristled somewhat over the implications about his personal hygiene; Ratfur was a clean cat, thank you very much.“Oh look.” His voice was flat and his words addressed the den as a whole. “He lives.” It was a valid concern. The other cat had a habit of laying in his corner of the den without talking or moving for days on end. Some called it healing; Ratfur called it wallowing. Though he knew from experience that it was (unfortunately) impossible to wallow to death, the tortoiseshell cat had been giving it a good shot - so much so that his wiry den mate had occasionally paused to briefly wonder if he'd actually been successful.
A pause. “Do you keep track of parasites for fun, Rookshade,” Ratfur drawled, casting a lazy glare in the newest elder’s direction. “Or is it something that comes naturally to you, given that you and parasites have so much in common?” One of the many casualties of the ancient hostility between TreeClan and NightClan, the wounded tom had been an unexpected addition to their den, but any feelings of sympathy he felt for Rookshade and his unfortunate circumstances did little to temper his sharp tongue. The paralyzed tom could handle it; he wasn’t Mousepaw.
After all, his spine was broken, not nonexistent.
“Rookshade needs the help more than me,” He directed Mousepaw toward the other elder with a flick of his tail. “I’m sure his ticks have started making clans by now.” As the younger apprentice, the timid she-cat undoubtedly did not have as much experience handling the disgusting mouse bile as Bramblepaw, and at the end of the night, Ratfur preferred not being coated in the stuff. Her companion might have been a bundle of energy, but he at least (tentatively) trusted her to do a decent job. Or a fast one, at least, given that no one ever enjoyed spending extended periods of time around mouse bile. “Bramblepaw, there’s one on my shoulder here that I can’t reach.”
Post by FABRICATION ★ on Aug 6, 2020 8:35:24 GMT -5
you got that last dance look in your eyes
nightclan she-cat 14 moons
“Hello, Bramblepaw.” Rookshade croaked from the shadows, and Bramblepaw felt somewhat startled. She hadn't even seen him heaped in the corner. Her golden eyes flicked towards his tortoiseshell shape, his body so damaged he no longer perform as a warrior. TreeClan's handiwork. It made her feel a little bit ill, seeing how ragged he had become. She almost wanted to retreat out of the den and ask her more compassionate sister to do this work for her. “Ratfur,” His voice dragged her out of her thoughts. “Ratfur has the biggest parasites.” She shook herself, resuming her commanding posture. A smirk crawled across her face. "Hmm. I think Ratfur's just an oversized tick himself. If I put mousebile on him, he'd surely drop dead." She hummed, eyes widening with fake concern, completing the look with flattened ears and all.
She heard a cat slide into the den behind her, her nose helping her to identify them more than her eyes did. Mousepaw. Bramblepaw grinned in the darkness. "Well, hello there! Nice of you to join our little party." The brown point molly chirped sarcastically. "And here I thought I'd be hogging all the fun to myself."
Mousepaw had a certain... oddness about her. It wasn't just that she was nervous, Breezepaw had the same gentle nature about her and Bramblepaw didn't get the same sense from her. No, there was something about Mousepaw that put Bramblepaw in mind of a tadpole that had found itself out of the water before it had time to grow legs. It puzzled her. It wasn't that she didn't like the grey and white apprentice. She just... was confused by her. She was also a bit concerned at how the cats that weren't exactly made of steel would survive in NightClan. Breezepaw, Mousepaw... she worried for them sometimes. They were kind, good-hearted cats. But those things didn't matter to such a harsh world.
"Hope you don't mind me following in with you Bramblepaw. I figured you might want some help. Better to get it done faster when there are more of us working together." Mousepaw said softly, and Bramblepaw shrugged. Her denmate wasn't wrong, they'd get this tedious task done much faster if both of them worked together. "I'll take the old fleabag." She whispered to Mousepaw, a devious glint in her eyes. "He's more fun to annoy." With that, she picked up her mousebile and set it down gently next to Ratfur. She snickered at his comment about Rookshade's parasites making Clans, peering at the ragged old tom's pelt. "Well, in that case Ratfur, it looks like your pelt is where they have their gatherings." She leered, trying to distract herself from the pure disgust surging in her stomach at having to part his fur to look for ticks. Ugh! This was the worst.
Mousepaw gave a small smile towards the older apprentice and tried not to snicker along with her at the comment about Ratfur. Mousepaw liked the old cranky tom even if he did intimidate her a bit and acted like he hated everyone and the world. But, if Bramblepaw wanted to take him on then she would gladly give him to her and instead went to Rookshade. Giving him a warm smile of greeting as she picked up the pile of mouse bile on a stick to be able to get to work.
"How have things been with you all? The weather has been getting a bit cooler so it's been nicer to go out in and do hunting and training." she commented indicating she wasn't just talking to the elders and their aches, pains, and complaints they often expressed openly. She spoke with Bramblepaw as well as she didn't often get to chat with the others of her clan without it turning into something bad.
She grabbed the stick with the moss ball on it and carefully prodded and pushed fur away form Rookshade's body to see the ticks and fleas before beginning to dab at the spot; mentally reminding herself to go grab some water and some flowers in hopes to get the scent off of the elder later once she was done and had cleaned up and if she had time she'd check out their bedding and see if they needed a change for that also so they could be more comfortable. Not many people knew but Mousepaw was rather articulate and thought of everything. A blessing and a curse when it comes to being an over thinker.
"I'm starting to learn more about how to become a warrior from Sterlingcry. It's slow and tough going but I'm getting there. How's training been for you Bramblepaw?" she asked around the stick in her jaws as she gave a glance over her shoulder towards the other apprentice.
Mousepaw was meek and kind hearted and didn't sound or look like someone who belonged in a tough clan like Nightclan but the little grey and white she-cat had given herself her own purpose and it was more apparent that she was trying. She worked harder at her training and was trying to be more social so that she could get to know others and understand the clan better instead of being a sheltered little thing that was too scared to do anything. It didn't seem like much to most when they looked at her but for Mousepaw it was a big step into becoming a better cat for herself.
"How's you're day been too? Have you done anything interesting? Have you been taking advantage of the nicer weather? It could really help you're bones if you'd be interested in taking a walk perhaps?" she added as she looked between the two elders not wanting to exclude them from the conversation but it was obvious she was trying to be more open and friendly instead of the quiet meek mouse she had been.