Recent content by PITCHSTAR

Yellowcough runs rampant, like the flames that had spread throughout the southern portion of the marsh four seasons ago. The ranks of StarClan swell with the dead. And Pitchstar couldn’t do anything but watch and pace the starry fields, his claws shredding blades of grass. It was like he was...

pitchstar is the last to step forward; nearly unrecognizable in death. his ribs no longer jut sharply from a concave abdomen, his starlit fur no longer matted from moons of neglect. there is a smile laid softly upon his angular features, but it is not mocking or bitter. a peace of mind that he...

[ this is a very important ooc note so please read!! there will be NO OUTWARD SIGNS that pitch lost his last life to poisoning when the body is found, therefore granitepaw will not be discovered to be guilty; granitepaw will be coming up with a convincing alibi immediately after pitch's death...

pitchstar doesn't leave his den much anymore, let alone the camp. the oak tree's roots have become a prison as much as they have a sanctuary; inside, he could not hurt. he could not see his clan deteriorating, nor the judgment they cast upon his decisions. what little muscle he has left begins...

only one outright questions him; his own littermate. lichentail's voice a steady pillar in the midst of the hurricane within his mind, she asks if that's really all that pitchstar could do. despite the familial ties between them, he bristles, claws scoring across the earth as he digs them...

the gathering last night had heralded nothing but trouble on the wind. howling wind—no, howlingstar—had given shadowclan a final warning; cease with the patrols, or face a potential war with thunderclan. pitchstar hadn't given her an answer then, but it was clear to him that howlingstar would...

[ putting a very important OOC note that most of what pitchstar believes/says in this post isn't true and his opinions are strictly IC! ] it doesn't surprise him that howling wind's representing thunderclan tonight; smogmaw had told him that emberstar was little more than a memory after the...

it is a warm night, unlike previous moons. pitchstar is grateful for the clouds that obscure the stars; maybe they would obstruct starclan's vision, and shield his clan from their accursed eyes. the shadowclan leader weaves through the crowd before laboriously climbing the great rock, puffing...

if it had been any other warrior, pitchstar would've snapped at the voice calling him from his nest to leave him alone. never, in a million moons, would pitchstar want to leave camp alone with another- not after fleecefur's betrayal. but chilledgaze is his confidant, his deputy, and he trusts...

to think that he would have to play the role of teacher... any other time, pitchstar would've left the task to one of his trusted warriors, finding that going over the bare bones of clan life to be dull and tedious. but when he's stuck doing nothing other than healing from the infection that...

deemed fit enough to return to normal duties and finally convinced to get out of his den by chilledgaze placing him on a hunt, pitchstar eventually finds himself separated from the rest of the patrol. the towering oaks of fourtrees loom in the near distance, casting shadows over him as he moves...

the camp erupts into chaotic turmoil the second that one of the hunting patrols return. pitchstar almost doesn't even bother exiting his den, his mind whirling with thoughts of betrayal; he didn't want to face those liars, lurking in the shadows of his home. the scent of blood touches his...

pitchstar stares down at the body of his lead warrior, shifting beneath smogmaw's paw with uncharacteristic silence. buzzing of flies echo in his ears, the vermin swarming the crimson upon flickerfire's tortoiseshell corpse. "how...?" pitchstar croaks out, his wide eyes never leaving the limp...

when chilledgaze had forewarned him of sootstar's presence, pitchstar had become a mixture of excitement and wariness. the last time that sootstar had requested an audience with him, she had brought a plump rabbit as an offering; such a large meal would be more than beneficial for shadowclan...

pitchstar raises a brow as the she-cat reprimands him, in his own swamp, for his foul language. he throws his head back in a humorless guffaw. "my language is the least foul thing here," the rosette tabby bites back, shaking his head as the dry laughter subsides as quickly as it had...