camp GOLDEN UNWORLDLY SILENCE ↷ [COUNCIL MEETING]

[smogstar]

// this thread is taking place in full view of the clan, meaning that every character is welcome to observe, or even discuss amongst themselves! note that smogmaw will be specifically addressing the lead warriors, the medicine cat, and the medicine cat apprentice.

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Not an easy night for ShadowClan by any metric. A few winks of sleep did little to remedy what weariness he wore; the deep-seated sort not easily banished by a bit extra rest. Eager as he was to take his new position, the circumstances demanding it struck so suddenly. There is much to do, much to fix and orchestrate. Plans needing adjustment, lists to put together - and first and foremost, consensus to be reached among the uppermost in clan hierarchy. As dawn creeps up overhead, Smogmaw knew he could manage, could picture how things could go so well with him at the helm, how ShadowClan will rise.

It is first light following the leader's vigil, and Smogmaw decides to call together ShadowClan's lead warriors and medicine cats. He rises firmly from where he lay, the same bedraggled nest once shared with another, in the same den he's slept in since clan inception. He did not take to Chilledstar's former den immediately. Could be seen as an impolite, borderline arrogant move, especially before the body's gone completely cold. Besides, he needed time to let the situation process. He licks and grooms hurriedly, stopping only when presentable enough before nudging Sharpshadow, Forestshade, and Mirepurr awake.

Pale gray morning light pierces the thick cover overhead, dousing camp in cool colors. After informing his lead warriors to gather in front of Clanrock, Smogmaw sets off to notify Starlingheart and Marblepaw both—"Council meeting out front. If Lilacfur can manage, please bring her along"—then joins the waiting warriors moments later.

They do not need privacy. This will be done in full view of any early risers, so clanmates may familiarise themselves to the change in regime as it comes. Visibility is vital—ShadowClan must know Smogmaw as its leader and see he's wholly up to the responsibility, ready to move with haste should it suit their needs, and to relay information and intentions equally. The tom stands tall, calm as can be, having pondered much since retiring from Chilledstar's burial the early hours previous. He lets paws shuffle, eyes connect and question silently, and waits patiently for Starlingheart and Marblepaw to assist Lilacfur in arriving.

When ready to speak he simply states it. "Leadership has changed paws. From hereon, I assume the position that was Chilledstar's before—I may not yet speak with the weight of nine lives, but ShadowClan must function, and a clan does not function without a leader." Nothing overdone, no attempts to dress up his intent. He speaks solid, assured, as one accustomed to giving orders and delivering important news to his clan. They ought to know he'd been mentally prepared for this for a considerable spell.

His tone levels as if discussing camp patrol rotations or prey stash progress. "Change brings unrest, confusion, stress, all of which ShadowClan can certainly do without. We must concern ourselves foremost with establishing a firm footing; I need to know where you all stand. Do you all accept me as the new leader?" Voice even, careful as if walking on fragile surfaces. He will allow no room for division, nor those inclined to dispute for the position or otherwise. Smogmaw expects absolute affirmation. Should doubt flash among these cats, all who've served this clan diligently and proven themselves countless times, it would set a dark, damning precedent going forward.

He breathes in, pauses—allows sufficient time for them all to consider carefully, a rare sight indeed from such an abrasive tom—then carries on. "Understand I have full intentions to move decisively. Starlingheart and I must make for the Moonstone later today or tomorrow, circumstances permitting, and looking at all of you, I know the clan will be in good paws while we are gone."

Another pause, sizing them up collectively now. The lead warriors—a talented huntress, a shrewd thinker moulded by his own training, a newly-promoted member eager to exhibit their potential, and a battle-hardened warrior not easily phased. Starlingheart and Marblepaw—invaluable to their clan's collective health, and equally exceptional. All will play vital roles going forward.

Smogmaw means to set them straight on the importance thereof right here and now. "My confidence in all present is without question. But it matters little unless you share yours with me. Make plain now where you stand, please. Worries, reservations, things that trouble you. Questions too—this is the time for discussion, clarification if needed, before duty settles on our paws." Eyes flit, exchange wordless communications—anticipation grips Smogmaw momentarily as he waits, observing silently.

He has not beckoned the rest of the clan. Still, if ShadowClan's cats begin trickling out of the warriors' and apprentices' dens by chance, Smogmaw allows it; they ought witness him and his council together. It is a sight their eyes must grow accustomed to.​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

She didn't sleep very well. Even prior to Chilledstar's death, she would never dare do something as arrogant as say she slept well. She felt like she didn't have the right to unless her dreams were full of soft fluffy clouds and non - slimy prey that bounded straight into her mouth... which has never happened. It feels especially true today though, as Smogmaw prods her at first dawn and Sharpshadow cracks open tired, dry eyes. The entire world drags at her feet as if she hadn't even slept a wink at all.

He's standing aimlessly near Clanrock for a few moments, wondering if everyone else can see the lines under his eyes as much as he can feel them. Forestshade and Mirepurr are here, too. Smogmaw wants to talk to them, she guesses. Maybe he would be heading to the moonstone as soon as he tells them here and now. Starlingheart and Marblepaw appear. They help Lilacfur in showing her face too. Once the group of she - cats come to a stop, Sharpshadow looks wearily to Smogmaw, frown set deep.

Here he goes talking too much. Stating the obvious, but in that tone of his that makes Sharpshadow feel like she's missing something, anyways. " Yeah, we all know what a deputy does, Smogmaw, " she grouses, eyes drawing up. Chilledstar is dead deaddead, and he's talking like this. The lead up to the question sounding like nonsense to her, she doesn't expect it when it comes. Do you all accept me as the new leader?

So... he wanted to know if they were here for Chilledstar only or not. Sharpshadow casts a sideward glance to Forestshade. Maybe – maybe it's a bit unfair that she had to be here... doing this so soon. Maybe it was a bit unkind – but then, what made Forestshade so special? Sharpshadow's mentor had died. He would certainly die again, now, once he got his nine lives. She had to carry on. She would carry on when it happened. Her life didn't... end with Smogmaw, even if the thought of him dying makes her shoulders go stiff.

It did sort of begin with him though. Her life that was... worth something. Sharppaw's life ended with him, and now she's here, someone that Smogmaw apparently cared to hear the opinion of. Dark paws scuffle the ground awkwardly. He couldn't say no even if he wanted to. And... did he want to? He isn't sure.

" ...Yeah, " eventually, she mumbles. And maybe it's underwhelming, but it's all she had to say to him. She did better than she spoke... Sometimes. Maybe.

It feels deliberate. A choice of words meant to appeal to an ego that she just didn't have. His gaze doesn't become any less woeful as he speaks of... just how much confidence he had in them all. And then he wants them to say... uh, stuff, she guesses. Sharpshadow's mouth is perfectly dry. Don't speak unless spoken to. That's what it should usually be. " Um. " She probably should say something. " Well. " It's not like she doesn't think about things... " I can't... tell you how to act, but... " Say something useful, maybe? " I'd like if we can pick our battles. Um, better. " Should she give... examples? There are too many to name, she thinks... " I would've liked to kill Granitepelt ourselves. " Someone else did the job for them, and instead they wasted that energy on... attacking a Medicine Cat, or something.​

 

[MIRESTAR]

✦

Smogmaw does not need to fret over Mirepurr much — they wake easily, not having been anywhere near the deepness that would ensure a well-rested mind in the morning. It's been hard to stay still in their nest; their thoughts are plagued by the last few days' events, so much so that even with greenleaf heat cooling in the nighttime, they feel like they're burning. This lack of sleep would surely backfire soon enough. Maybe their eyelids will shut in the middle of a patrol, body sagging to the ground in a desperate attempt of a quick nap.

But there is so much to do. Smogmaw has so much to do, and it doesn't make sense to parallel that by remaining unconscious, cooped up in the warriors' den.

When he calls, Mirepurr comes. Already their fellow lead warriors are gathering by the Clanrock, and Mirepurr allows their gaze to sweep over them all in silent question before the medicine cat and her apprentice are summoned. Would the council's meeting be held... here? It is a concept that surprisingly doesn't distress them. Where Smogmaw sees opportunity, Mirepurr simply assumes a sense of community; here they all are, in the wake of such devastating occurrences, pushing forward together.

Mirepurr shoots one last glance at Lilacfur when she arrives, before all their attention is on Smogmaw-

Or would be, if it wasn't for Sharpshadow's comment.

"Sharpshadow!" The gasp comes unwillingly- or rather, it breaks from their maw so easily, whereas Mirepurr would prefer for it to stay inside. She's always had a certain tongue on her; unafraid to speak his mind regardless of how cutting that may be — name fitting such a trait.

Beige-splotched paws shuffle. It'd be most unsightly to involuntarily cover their mouth; first they allow a very open display of gut reaction, only to try and withdraw when it's been already uttered? Mirepurr sticks out like a sore thumb amongst this experienced council. They have much to prove, and they might as well start with owing up to what they think.

Even Smogmaw seems to agree, requesting them all to voice their opinions. It's not like Chilledstar didn't listen to them — but this feels somewhat different, a very blatant invitation to speak.

And so Mirepurr does.

"I accept." How could one not deem Smogmaw to be the perfect successor? Deputy for as long as Chilledstar has reigned and already doing everything he can to shelter ShadowClan during the storms of change. To Sharpshadow's own request, Mirepurr offers a nod; they might not be violent enough to wish bloodied paws in the wake of Granitepelt's murder, but there is a good point she makes. "Granitepelt was our problem. Dealing with him our way would have felt... more fitting, I suppose, and give a sense of justice to those he wronged." All of us, really. They try their best not to glance at Starlingheart too obviously.

A moment of thought. "I know the last Gathering was emotional... they don't tend to turn out that way, usually. But I think it'd serve us better to remain more civilized. Especially now- everyone knows a Clan is most vulnerable after a change in leadership."
​

 

[MARBLEPAW]

Marblepaw stirs as Smogmaw's pawsteps darken the dawnlit mouth of the cavern. "Council meeting out front," he says, his voice brusque as ever. "If Lilacfur can manage, please bring her along." Her ears flick, surprise blooming in her chest and wreathing around her anxieties. She scrabbles to rise from her nest, moss-green eyes flicking to the patients' beds. Her mother still lies within, eye bandaged, weakened. "I can help, Starlingheart. Lilacfur, do you want to lean on me?" She reaches forward with her muzzle to stir the lead warrior's pale fur with her breath.

After some effort, Marblepaw emerges from the medicine cat's den. The sun has coated the tree tops in pale gold; there's a brisk morning wind that ruffles her fur pleasantly. She draws near the Clanrock. It's disorienting to see a sturdy gray tabby atop its peak. Smogmaw speaks with all the authority that had seemed to burden Chilledstar; fascinated, the light tabby she-cat watches and listens with her ears flicked forward, her mouth drawn tightly together.

"Do you all accept me as your new leader?" Her nostrils flare. Chilledstar's absence stings like a fresh wound. The other warriors murmur amongst themselves, while Sharpshadow takes it upon himself to speak out. His sarcasm surprises Marblepaw, but his answer does not. "Yes." Mirepurr adds their voice to the chorus. Yes.

Marblepaw's feet tremble as she lifts her chin high. "Y-yes," she says, and she's embarrassed at the squeak in her voice. Her ear slants sideways. Did she even need to speak? What good was an apprentice-medicine cat's word at a time like this? She flushes beneath her tabby pelt, but otherwise clams up, listening to the warriors speak.

"We should have killed Granitepelt ourselves," they say. Marblepaw glances at Sharpshadow and Mirepurr, shock clear in her green eyes. Kill him? Her paw pads prickle with discomfort. She cranes her neck toward Starlingheart, whispering, "Is there... going to be a battle?"

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Marblekit . Marblepaw, she/they w/ feminine and non-gendered terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 6 moons old, ages realistically on the 1st.
  — mentored by Starlingheart ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a
  — shadowclan medicine cat apprentice, formerly a rogue. siltcloud x lilacfur, gen 3.
  — currently mated to n/a.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh fawn tabby with dull green eyes. courageous, curious, introspective, observant, judgmental, snarky.
  
  

​

 

[Loomingpaw]

Council meetings were not something that was often done openly in the light of day, done instead in the comfort of a den where things were meant to be more personal, more secret. It is because of this that when Loomingpaw wakes and moves from the apprentice's den to the camp she pauses, confused and at first wondering if she was somehow still sleeping only to move quickly to the thought that she should not be here.

Tempted at first she is to move back into the apprentice's den where she could listen in without having to worry about the eyes of those above her seeing her do this, ever-curious as to how the inner workings of the council meetings happened. Instead she is glued to the spot, off to the side as she blinks bleary eyes and watches silently, tail curling around her paws as she's absorbed in the conversation that was being had.

She agrees, she realizes, that dealing with Granitepelt themselves would have been better than for him to come crawling back to the territory after a fight. ShadowClan should have been the ones to cause injuries so bad he went to the carrionplace to die, not... whatever it was that had happened to him now. She wasn't sure though, however, how much she would enjoy a fight when it came to this subject matter. It would feel like it didn't mean anything, but a fight for the codebreaking and the tresspassing? She wanted a fight for that, she wanted battle. Though she didn't realize she was doing it, the older apprentice was leaning forward to listen, breath baited as she waited to see if any more suggestion of battle would be mentioned.

COYOTES TIPTOE ┆彡 IN THE SNOW AFTER DARK

• --

• 

• : ̗̀➛ sh lilac/blue smoke chimera w/low white & sectoral heterochromia
  : ̗̀➛ 10 moons old, ages realistically every 25th
  : ̗̀➛ bisexual biromantic; many puppy crushes; interested in none
  : ̗̀➛ stubborn and loyal to shadowclan
  : ̗̀➛ will start fights, will finish fights outside of clan
  : ̗̀➛ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  : ̗̀➛ peaceful powerplay and healing allowed

​

​

 

[Ternfrost.]

ABANDON ALL YOUR STUPID DREAMS
ABOUT THE GIRL I COULD HAVE BEEN, MY DEAR​

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maggotfur ♛ 20 moons ♛ female ♛ she/her ♛ shadowclan warrior ​

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If smogmaw has deigned to hold such an important discussion within plain sight, who is Maggotfur to complain? Blue eyes sharped as she turns her gaze upon the gathering, eyes flitting from face to face - she has no care for most of them, and even less interest in the rest of the council, and yet they are still the cats who.... rule shadowclan, however poorly. Still, Smogmaw has functioned as deputy for long enough, she trusts him to do what he must - even if thats not saying much.

Granitepelts name is heavy on their tongues, and yet she can only roll her eyes - why does the conversation always, inevitably, return to that mange ridden tom? She is glad he is dead - he'd stolen Halfpaw from them after all. But it was by shadowclans own actions that he escaped judgment, escaped reckoning - what kind of clan simply chased a murderer out, and then acts surprised when they continue to kill?

It makes her want to laugh, but the molly bites her tongue, amusement glittering in her eyes as she has to turn herself away to hide her thawing expression. Best not interrupt with a burst of laughter at such an inopportune time after all.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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A N D - I F - Y O U ' R E - B L I N D - T O - T H A T ,━ I ' M - F I N E - W I T H - T H A T

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[smogstar]

In opting to remain stood on camp's muddy floor for this meeting, despite Clanrock's lofty perch readily available to claim, Smogmaw intended to convey his accessibility—he is close, grounded, among his council and at eye-level. His own are impassive, stripped of visible emotion as he studies them closely and awaits their response. If they will give affirmation or protest. Whether they mean to prod or push back on leadership. The tom doesn't so much as flinch, showing all no hint to betray his fragile expectations, where he lies most vulnerable and exposed.

Over and above that, though, is the fact he has already fully run through the meagre script etched into his skull. At a horse's pace, no less. He requires a pause to think, to improvise. A chance to forage the depths of last night's ruminations, and draw from them inspiration on what to speak next.

Immediate snark from Sharpshadow sends him astray. In tune to Mirepurr's own reaction, Smogmaw's look flickers just barely with mild frustration, but a snort follows quickly afterward. Once he settles, and the dark-furred lead warrior goes on to speak at length, he decides to receive the retort as validation. It soothes him, knowing his former apprentice hasn't been paralysed by hesitancy at the sudden change. That is the furthest he'll let him push for now.

Smogmaw listens closely with a tilt to his head, thoughtful on the counsel prescribed, nerves eased at hearing her affirmation, and when all is concluded, his lips part in a brief response. "Alright, thank you, Sharpshadow," meows the tom. In those few words, a hint of warmth to crack the veneer, feeling sobered at the advice from someone he'd mentored.

To each statement Sharpshadow made, Smogmaw bore agreement outwardly (through slow nods) and internally; strategic nuance was embarrassingly thin among Chilledstar's repertoire. Whether amended relations with WindClan is possible rests mostly on if Sunstar's cheek still hurts, and somewhat on how well Smogmaw could kiss it better. Not the most enjoyable diplomatic mess to inherit, but his lips are primed and ready.

When Mirepurr speaks next, and builds upon the prior concerns shared, the nodding returns in full force, accompanied now by a low exhale and a steely gaze as his attention sways to Starlingheart momentarily. Muzzle tightens, a frown manifesting. Two occasions come to mind where ShadowClan failed to solve the Granitepelt debacle adequately. His teeth should have torn into the fiend's throat on that day, not the scruff—and they had every opportunity to uproot the tumour which was DuskClan. Only delay tactics and stalling arose. No decisive action whatsoever. He will not look to that part of the late leader for precedent.

Mirepurr grants him affirmation, as does Marblepaw in a warbling mewl. With a modest dip in his chin, he meows, "Thank you, both." In the next breath, Smogmaw seeks and identifies posthaste an opening, there, a pause where no cat speaks. He inhales sharply, poised to reciprocate. What words he conjures catch at his tongue's tip, though. Doubt is written plain in the medicine cat apprentice's bearing. It swells, knots itself tightly, and leads the young she-cat to whisper in her mentor's ear. A missed implication he ought elaborate upon, likely.

Smogmaw gives it several moments, reconsidering what he ought to say all the while. They wish to hear clarity from his end, an understanding toward how precisely he intends to confront the issues at paw. Words chosen as delicately as he manages, Smogmaw sets in shortly a clear cadence. "Seriously, I appreciate these considerations. Because I-" then he halts. So soon, he will bedamn Chilledstar publicly, in full view? He has every right to reevaluate their shortcomings at his newfound command. But how boldly shall he speak? He pauses longer now, scanning the clan's faces if only momentarily, before taking the plunge.

"-'Cause I agree, fully." His speaking voice retains its steadiness, though the weight of his next confession shadows each uttered word. Nascent nerves mount, but Smogmaw is sure to let not a crack be seen. Not now. "I will not mince words here. There have been some severely mouse-brained errors in judgement made under our previous leader. Errors costing us clanmates, our reputation, security. Errors made both on Chilledstar's part and mine." His muzzle twists, eyebrows furrowing, and briefly, the tom's jaw squares up. Smogmaw nods in addition to drive home his point's earnestness, lips pursed after. "No excuses. I failed my clan when I spared that murderer from his due reckoning. That isn't on any cat but me."

Here lies his greatest fault. It was not mercy that stayed his claws on Granitepelt. He was protective over his own image. To have ordered an execution without his leader's discretion would have cemented a ruthless streak, a reputation unparalleled in cruelty. He feared, then, for what it would solidify.

It didn't matter. Indecision, rather than cruelty, went on to define him anyway. Indecision, the very same he cannot afford moving forward. Smogmaw blinks slowly, considering. "But, we will leave the past where it belongs. Learn from historical flaws and carry on. ShadowClan demands swift correction."

Another brief survey passes through those present. He wagers confidence among them is bolstered some. So, Smogmaw gambles on it. "Chilledstar's greatest flaw was their fear to act. Even when victory was well within ShadowClan's grasp, they hesitated. They over-thought, under-did, and it led us down a path of zero triumphs to speak for." Newfound confidence anchors itself well within his ribcage, easing the weight brought with unease. "We deserve better than that, don't we? Better than delays and endless debates?" His voice pitches higher, expressing the rhetorical nature. A question, posed not for answers, but to entice and fan flames already lit. "Absolutely, we do."

A beat follows, during which Smogmaw relishes the certainty swelling inside him. It's invigorating to speak so freely and openly, without fearing rebuke. High on this rush, he doggedly seizes the means to elaborate. "It was well within our power to vanquish Granitepelt's little band of scoundrels," he begins with gusto, pacing in front of Clanrock now, eyes finding each and every council member he addresses. "We outnumbered them two-to-one, I reckon! Could'a turned whatever hole they called their camp into a second dirtplace for ourselves!" A twinkle plays in his gaze at this imagery.

"And WindClan? For how many seasons had we put up with their attacks? They'd violated us time and time again, stolen our kits, housed our exiled clanmates—and we endured in silence. They overthrew their tyrant, started anew with a clean record, never knowing what it is to feel retribution. We'd've deserved as much. Yet we let them be." Smogmaw's voice dips here, disappointment creeping in. Restraint is virtuous, but misplaced restraint breeds no justice, no recompense, no benefit in the slightest.

Resolute as he'll ever be, Smogmaw concludes this segment. His ears perk up, he halts altogether, and he draws himself taller, assured he shall find success in etching a deep, lasting imprint. In their very worldviews, in their sense to seek advantage, and to lean always, always toward it, at every chance feasible. It's up to his council to move with him—to match the shift in momentum and trajectory, and help steer it true.

"Well, no longer. Not while I'm leader. There will be no hesitating anymore, no further half-triumphs." Smogmaw fixes his council with a hard stare, certain they're listening closely now more than ever. "From the safety that shadow provides, we watch. We wait. We prepare. And when the moment is ripe? When those who wish to harm us show their bellies? When we can guarantee victory for ourselves, or snuff out a problem before it even arises? Precision will guide our paws and shall see us through."

This is the kindling fire which drives his ambition. Decisive action and a shrewd mind, the tools with which he hopes to instill pride in his clanmates. These traits demand constant exercise, as one grows rusty with time when complacency becomes commonplace. He yearns for this clan to thrive, to emerge triumphant as often as they can manage and make names for themselves across all the territories. He is not speaking to reckless abandon. He is speaking to effective, measured agency, free from the indecisiveness which left them divided, their fates outgrown like a kit's teeth.

If he cannot salvage what remains—then, at the bare minimum, he intends to build something new.

After such a lengthy piece, and despite not coming quite close to vocal fatigue, his mouth grows dry. Smogmaw elects to pause and dip his nose, closing his eyes and taking in several quiet, slow breaths, until his insides stop feeling knotted up. He holds no reservations about this clan's collective aptitude or capabilities. Nor in the fact that he'd described a monumental shift in the precedents they've all followed for ages. Change has been long overdue; and should doubt cloud any clanmates' judgement going forward, he will guide them, reroute them, set them on the right path toward it.

Eyes open and raise again, his senses sharpen. "So, what can I expect from you, Sharpshadow?" he asks in a mellow murmur. "Forestshade? Lilacfur? Mirepurr? D'you resonate with what's been said?" Smogmaw stops there, brow knotting faintly, waiting to receive their response. He need not press the medicine cats on their ends. A firm stance toward treating the ill and injured, on keeping cats hale and hearty—it is as necessary a component to this vision as anything else.

The tom waits, and he watches. He breathes, and he steels his bearing further, and he anticipates their affirmations. ​

 

[FORESTSHADE]

Forestshade strides forward to come and sit next to Sharpshadow, expression unwavering. This is…unfamiliar, to meet out here. “It’s so early,” She mumbles to the friend at her shoulder, mid-yawn when Smogmaw begins. Her thoughts echo Sharpshadow’s - why in StarClan is he talking so much? Again and again, it is like he has waited his whole life for this moment, and it is grating on ears that still ring with her mentor’s final words. “I support you, because Chilledstar chose you,” She mews with a sharpness in her voice. She will not so easily forget her loyalties to the fallen leader. They trusted Smogmaw, so she will, too.

Her ear twitches towards Sharpshadow as she voices her concerns. Turmoil rolls off her friend in waves. She agrees with one thing in particular: they should have killed Granitepelt here. She nods firmly, her support shown. Mirepurr speaks up next and the torbie listens intently, continuing to offer nods in agreement. “Granitepelt was a threat from the beginning; I can’t believe we didn’t deal with him,” She utters with a shake of her head. Mirepurr is spot on about one thing; change does come with vulnerability. “We need to show the other clans that we’re still strong. That we won’t just roll over.” Marblepaw’s doubt and discomfort is evident in her voice, but Forestshade figures she’ll figure this whole thing out soon enough. As she grows, she’ll find her voice.

Smogmaw speaks again and at first it seems like it will go fine…until the tom dissects Chilledstar’s legacy like he’s squashing a bug. Irritation surges through her; he is so ready to speak poorly of the dead that led this clan for so long. His determination to distance himself from ShadowClan’s past failures feels dismissive, even after he owns up to not killing Granitepelt himself. With a wrinkle in her snout, and blunt as she famously is, she interjects, “Chilledstar always had ShadowClan’s best interests at heart! It’s easy to critique when it’s not you on the Clanrock.” She won’t mince her words, either. With a huff, she turns her muzzle away, frustration seeping through. She doesn’t even disagree with a lot of what he’s saying. She wants to be tough, she wants ShadowClan to seize opportunities and make their power known in the forest. But she can’t have respect for a leader who will so easily throw his predecessor under a monster. “I’ll stand with you, Smogmaw, but not if it means kicking dirt all over Chilledstar’s grave when it’s just been dug.” A fang pokes out as lips curl in distaste, the disrespect shown towards her fallen mentor enough to ruffle the fur along her spine. They will learn from the past, not place blame on the one who sacrificed so much for them. ​

 

[STONEPAW]

A sharp kick to the face had woken Stonekit that morning. He wasn't sure which of his siblings was at fault there, but he wasn't thrilled. He would rather not be awake so early. He also didn't want to just sit there either. Rather boring. He didn't have to think long on what to do, however, as he heard Smogmaw's muffled voice coming through the entrance to the den. Immediately intrigued, he pulled himself from the awkward tangle of limbs and squeezed out of the den. "Do you accept me as your leader?" he came out to hear. "Yes, I do," Stonekit mewed quietly. The lilac tom had been particularly interested in the deputy - or rather, leader now - for as long as he could remember. He thought of the time he observed the large tom watching ants. What had he been thinking that whole time?

Listening to Smogmaw's speech only fueled that intrigue further. He wasn't sure who Granitepelt was. He'd heard the name before, and knew he was dead now, but most of the details had been omitted for his young ears. Not without a fight from him. He wanted to know everything. With every word that fell from Smogmaw's mouth, Stonekit was hooked. So far, he seemed a much stronger leader than what he'd seen of Chilledstar. He inched closer without even meaning to, sucked into a trance almost. He'd only heard of the things WindClan had done as stories to try to make him behave. Hearing them from such an admired figure was unnerving. Those things were real? How could they have let them get away with it? What a dirt-clan! he thought in disgust. Shadowclan would never do that!

Forestshade's voice pulled him from his thoughts after Smogmaw concluded his speech. He wanted to snap something at her for talking back, but at least had the sense to bite his tongue. He certainly didn't want to be shooed away like a pest. Drawing attention wasn't exactly in his best interest at the moment. He merely scowled at her disrespect, simmering beneath the skin.

---

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  
  "speech"
  

• 

• STONEKIT ✩ he/him, kit of shadowclan, four moons
  ⭃ pretty lilac with low white and blue eyes. bossy, charismatic, manipulative.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Twitchtail ↛ @iliawonders on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[ONYXPAW]

I WISH YOU COULD SEE THE WICKED TRUTH — This was... new. Unprecedented. Many things were new now, without Chilledstar's dark paws guiding Shadowclan as they always had in the past. Or, for as long as Onyxpaw had been present enough to know what was going on, that is.

The first rays of the morning had only just graced her fur when Smogmaw's voice rang out, breaking through her dreams and scattering them to the winds. She was far from a member of their new leader's council, yet she found herself stepping out of her nest regardless. He was holding the meeting where they all could see, after all - she might as well take advantage. Though even as she slipped from the apprentices' den, she found herself scanning around for one of her peers. Safety in numbers her mind seemed to mutter, and the chimera's trembling form brought her over to Loomingpaw's side.

Her shoulders were hunched and tense as she listened to Smogmaw speak, eager to see what plans he had in mind for Shadowclan's future. There was even an excitement there, one that summoned up knots of guilt in her stomach. How could she be excited for Smogmaw's plans, when they had been predicated on Chilledstar's death? Was her enthusiasm not a crime in some way, when so many of her clanmates were locked around her in grief? Onyxpaw nearly shoved her muzzle beneath her paws in woe, though she resisted only so that she could continue to listen. To Smogmaw, and to Sharpshadow, Mirepurr, and Forestshade. "Yes." Her answer to the deputy's inquiry was unneeded, yet she offered it up willingly - albeit so softly that she couldn't be heard over the rest of the crowd.

Onyxpaw would support their newest leader to the best of her abilities, however limited those might be.

His words on Chilledstar were not the kindest - she was sure they were far more blunt than most would prefer - but she could see the truth in them. No cat was infallible, and their last leader had made mistakes. Smogmaw surely would too, regardless of how hard he tried. Yet, coming into things with a new attitude seemed the best approach to not repeat the errors of the past. His speech even summoned a grin onto her muzzle, up until Forestshade spoke up. The lead warrior's harsh rebuttal caused Onyxpaw's ears to flick back, her body shifting backward just the slightest bit. "He... he's right, though." Her voice was still so slight, not nearly enough to actually call attention to herself. It was likely only Loomingpaw would be able to hear her protest, and she was quick to shoot an apologetic look in her neighbor's direction.

It was best not to call attention to them, not when they had so graciously been invited to watch things in the first place.

CAUGHT UP IN A RUSH ✦ IT IS KILLING YOU

• 

• 
  ✧ shorthaired tortoiseshell point and chocolate point chimera with blue eyes
  ✧ 10 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  ✧ bisexual; crushing on yellowpaw
  ✧ daughter of monarchroot and sleetjaw
  ✧ shadowclan born; silently loyal to her home
  ✧ difficult to befriend; shy to most except yellowpaw
  ✧ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ✧ peaceful powerplay allowed

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

Forestshade is on their heels, unafraid to yawn in Smogmaw's face. Sharpshadow's agreement comes in a quiet, mhm. A brief glance is spared to maybe judge if Forestshade had cried herself to sleep last night, or something... Not like she cared. They were gathering a small crowd. Probably Smogmaw's intention, easily slipping into how much of an attention hog most Leaders were bound to be. If he was ever quiet before, it was apparently only because Chilledstar was around. Nothing to do with any nine lives.

Mirepurr gasps at him like he imagines a ThunderClan kit convinced StarClan would strike them down for expressing any negative opinion would. A ( not - too - serious... ) glare is shot their way. Smogmaw himself seems to stutter, as if it hadn't even crossed his mind that anyone would tell him he's talking too damn much. She's allowed to feel satisfied for a moment. That moment is quickly dispelled by his snort. And what replaces the satisfaction is... ( not - too -serious... ) annoyance. His tail would give a lash if it could.

He feels stiff, the more heads that nod along with him, even we should all get along Mirepurr, and said-his-name-like-a-curse Mirepurr. His head turns to try and catch their faces. To look for... deceit, or reluctance, or something. The gazes of clanmates trying to look impassive seem to agree too... or she could be wrong. Completely and utterly wrong. Something like confidence tries to worm its way inside him, and it feels so wrong that he has no choice but to stamp it out. Smogmaw's voice isn't angry, and something... else cracks through his cold steel visage. With a series of blinks, Sharpshadow startles, unable to believe that he did something like that.

Smogmaw almost sounds real, for a few moments. Sharpshadow's eyes are fixed to him, wide like a piece of prey. She bristles for a moment at the acosting of Chilledstar. She's... calm-ish when he accepts fault. Whatever retort had been rushing forth on her tongue quickly dies. He tries to see Smogmaw like he's real. Sharpshadow dips his head, maybe not forgiving but... acknowledging. He's... glad he admitted it.

But out of the ashes of that admittance is the lambasting of Chilledstar's Leadership. It's gone to his head already – or maybe he was just hiding it this entire time. Standing behind Chilledstar with a lowered head, imagining how he would've done it better. It's not as if Sharpshadow liked every decision Chilledstar had made. In fact, he'd liked very few of them... but he had never dared to say that he would've done something better. For ShadowClan's sake, she hopes Smogmaw is telling the truth when he says that he will.

He agrees, but he can't stand to say. He feels like its disrespectful, somehow, when he's seen Chilledstar storm into the forest, wishing for their own death. And that, too, is something that a Leader should never do, but... How mad is he allowed to be, that Chilledstar had been made something they never asked to be? ( Plenty mad, he thinks. For all that Sharpshadow didn't think he ought to be here for, he would sooner die than not be useful to ShadowClan. ) None of it is really fair.

Forestshade's anger is predictable, and next to her Sharpshadow can only shift his paws. Almost unhearably, she murmurs, " Chilledstar tried their best. " acknowledged for the first time. But then, what good did trying alone do anyone? I tried filled no one's stomach. Her ear flickers at Forestshade's voice. Were he to die, would he want ShadowClan to list all of his faults before he's even cold? ...Or maybe he wouldn't have mattered enough for even that. He isn't Leader for a reason.

Weary eyes snap upward at the sound of his name. A glance is spared around him, as if there was anyone else named Sharpshadow in this camp. " Me? " he utters dumbly. Forestshade, Lilacfur, and Mirepurr too. There are murmurings of yes, around him as if the Clan answered for him, and on the cusp of that, how could he could he possibly say no? Marblepaw's mew is like his: awkward, and still - young, somehow. " I... yes. " It feels lame, like some sort of betrayal to Chilledstar and Forestshade both, even if he owed nothing to either of them. It's stupid, to indulge in the power - trip this clearly was: of rambling at length in front of everyone and demanding loyalty in tongue. ...But she's always followed Smogmaw, even if she hated to admit it. He's always been a little bit right, even if she hated that even more. It burns like acid, to acknowledge that in full. Head held to the ground, he says it: " I'll follow you, Smogmaw. "​

 

[lilacfur]

The call for the council would not go unanswered from her. Though Lilacfur's paw still ached, her eye still packed with remedies of herbs and soft prayers, she would always put her sworn duties first.

Marblepaw's assistance had been taken graciously, each step emboldened in her determined endurance until they sat before the leader-to-be. Smogmaw carried with him now the full weight of the Clan in a way none of them could have felt before. Thrusted into the responsibility with little warning, but was there ever such graces given for these occasions?

If he was nervous or hesitant, she wouldn't know. His desire to drone on and on and on about the expectations and trials ahead, the assumed and anticipated, the emotions of turmoil and distress and relief- did they have to go over all of this now? Her head started to thrum until at last he fell into pause.

Sharpshadow's response spoke what Lilacfur thought, Mirepurrs exasperation followed behind. Lilacfur bit her tongue but a small snrk of a snicker still bared its way through. Despite the tragedy of it all, the ache of this loss there's is some miraculous way to find humor in this. Lilacfur wondered if she should be thankful or embarrassed there was any at all. At the very least Smogmaw has turned the cheek to its warmth.

"There is such a way, Forestshade," Lilacfur took a breath as she curled her tail around her paws. "to acknowledge and learn from such flaws while maintaining respect." The lead straightened her shoulders and tipped her head up as she spoke, remembering her place among them. "Plenty more could have been crueler." And they will, while the Clan may not voice their wasted wants and desires of a now-dead leader, they would certainly think them.

"I stand with you, Smogmaw. Me and my kin will continue to serve ShadowClan, as they have for moons before myself." A honeyed amber eye flickered down to Marblepaw wih a confident smile. "There will be plenty battles, my daughter. You are young, but I hope in this life you do not see war." She turned to Smogmaw once again, wondering how long the roots of his dissent towards WindClan had grown. Would he want that, so soon into his ascension?

---

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  
  

• 

• LILACFUR ✩ she/her, 22 moons, mother to marblepaw and sycamorepaw
  ⭃ lh lilac rosette with yellow eyes (carrying cinnamon, solid), a torn left ear, missing her left eye and most fur from a multitude of claw-marked scars
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by this loser ↛ @gonkpilled on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[Gigglepaw]

Gigglekit never thought she'd see the end of Chilledstar. From the moment she'd been capable of retaining information, it had seemed like a given that Chilledstar would always be there to lead the Clan and defend their members from hardships as best they could. Looking back, with time and a new wisdom, Gigglekit supposes she should have expected that one day Chilledstar would be gone, but she hadn't expected that moment to come so soon - especially after Chilledstar had saved her from the owl, losing an eye, they had seemed so hard to topple, so unstoppable. And now they were gone.

Gigglekit sat near the nursery entrance, leaning against the frame with a small frown on her face. She felt plenty cried-out, and despite that, tears still threatened to overwhelm her. She sat silently by, listening to what Smogmaw was saying with all the interest she could muster - soon she'd be an apprentice, and that meant soon she'd need to understand the Clan more intimately than she had as a kit.

Ever since she'd been young, Gigglekit had rather admired Smogmaw. She knew that he would make a good and proper leader of ShadowClan, and even if she didn't really wrap her head around all the intricacies of what made a good leader and how Chilledstar may have lacked in some regards, Gigglekit found herself giving a small, silent nod when Smogmaw asked if his Council would follow his lead. He would have Gigglekit's respect and support, for as much or little as that counted.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OOC ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ INFO ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• !
  

• 

• GIGGLEKIT ✩ kit of shadowclan, four moons
  → blinks incessantly & uncontrollably.
  → peaceful and healing powerplay permitted.
  → penned by Archivist → .archivist on discord.
  

​

 

[NIGHTKIT.]

(⚈_⚈)   It does not occur to Nightkit that anything had changed at all. Whereas Gigglekit had known Chilledstar all of their life. . . had Nightkit known them at all? It was fuzzy. He thinks. . . there is little he remembers except for Moltface, and the box, and the stench of rot that clung to their fur. That they got here at all might be because of that cat, though! He does not quite know. All that matters is that they're gone, and that makes cats sad. Sometimes it makes them angry. But right now, it just makes them– loud. His lonely game of rock-exploration is interrupted by all of their voices.

For a while, he tries to listen. Maybe all of this sadness would make sense if he could, but they move so fast, and his own words shrink away in answer. So in the face of all this strangeness, this sadness, they pick up their stone and move it to @Gigglekit's paws, trying to soothe away some of the weight that he can feel rolling off of the older kitten. What does it matter if Smogmaw has his support? Leaders seem silly. Friends. . . aren't.

ooc. —

​

/code][/box]

 

[MIRESTAR]

When Smogmaw speaks, Mirepurr thinks of a storm. It rolls in first, like it's taking a leisurely stroll through the very skies, building in both momentum and ferocity until the dam opens. Until rain cascades down and down and down, unrelenting as it washes away dry dust and debris. Perhaps that is the way to describe Smogmaw's approach here; the grandiose has always been his thing, but he appears to allow a display of more underneath than usual. Like storm itself, he intends to wash away all of ShadowClan's prior problems overnight.

Is that possible? With the pace he's set, Mirepurr almost wants to believe it so.

Knot coils itself around their guts. The sensation reminds them of a snake, and they almost expect to hear a low hiss that is only meant for their ears; are they allowed to agree, even a little bit, with what Smogmaw is saying? It feels like condemning everything Chilledstar stood for.

Smogmaw's voice dips, dies down — the storm recedes, passing over them all with a low rumble that is not a threat anymore, but a reminder.

"You call it a fear to act," Mirepurr finds their voice in the wake of Forestshade, Sharpshadow and Lilacfur. "I call it playing opportunist. Not every decision led to what we expected and wanted, but mistakes are inevitable. We cannot foretell fate."

Relief soothes their stomach then. There is no hesitancy now when they open their mouth; Smogmaw has managed to instill a specific kind of calm, even with curious eyes boring into every single one of their skulls, and it tells the council: there is no wrong way to speak here. Mirepurr allows themself to speak their mind with it — they feel soothed to know they stand up for Chilledstar.

"I know ShadowClan will be in safe paws with you as our leader, but... let's not forget that good intentions can lead to unfavorable results. You will act with us in your mind, only wanting the best for us- but want is not always going to be enough." Their gaze seeks out the other lead warriors, Starlingheart, even young Marblepaw. Not for long; if they address Smogmaw, they will give him their full attention. "You will make mistakes again, just like we will- but you will have all of me, through the good and the bad."
​

 

[SINGEGLARE]

*+:｡.｡ It's difficult to see Smogmaw as a leader.
Singepaw has to manually remind himself that the blue tabby before him is, in fact, the head of all of Shadowclan now rather than the temporary stand-in before Chilledstar returns from some mystery trip. Death. That trip is death. And yet, Singepaw still stares at Shadowclaw's thorny maw, still waiting for his leader to pull themselves out of the shadows like they always do. Did.
Anyway, it doesn't help the illusion when Smogmaw starts this counsel meeting off by walking out of the warrior's den like it's any other Tuesday. Singepaw almost doesn't pay him any heed, resuming his stare-down with the shadows at the camp entrance instead. The only shock Singepaw feels comes when Smogmaw starts his little gathering with anything besides "Gather for patrol assignments..." Even so, as others murmur amongst themselves, stunned by Smogmaw's publicity stunt, Singepaw can only yawn. Woah - did you hear that? He just cracked the fuck out of his jaw there, that was loud as shit! Must've been the widest he's ever opened his mouth!

Rubbing his jaw and glancing around to see if anyone else heard the badass sound he'd just made, he listened only with one ear as his mentor spoke to the masses.
He supposes he should get used to that, Smogmaw being the figurehead of meetings. What'll it be like though, when he...Singepaw's eyes trail past everyone's heads to the clan rock that looms high above them all. Singepaw can't say he respects authority or tradition very much, but even Singepaw can't help but see that ladder of stones as something sacred - only permittable for paws blessed by Starclan, worn down by those who'd died to give you your place upon it. Still rubbing his jaw, now in contemplation, Singepaw determined that he doubted he'd ever get used to seeing Smogmaw up there. It's weird enough seeing the spot empty. It'll be even weirder seeing Smogmaw there instead. He's suddenly left oddly grateful that Smogmaw chose to start his "leadership" in this way, with his little public meeting. Not to say Singepaw needs to have his paw held for every new milestone or anything, but it's nice to not be thrown head-first into the murky waters of change so quickly.

When Singepaw returns his focus to Smogmaw, it's in time to hear the man ask for his clan's approval. Now that is weird. Ever the anarchist, Singepaw wonders, a smirk dancing on his maw, what might've happened if the clan as a whole responded in the negative. Would Smogmaw accept the verdict and step down? Singepaw wasn't the type to crave power, but he couldn't imagine just letting go of that bite, fragile though it may be, of immortality when so few have ever had the chance to try its ichor.

Gotta respect the guy for exposing his belly like that, even if it was among friends.

Attention snapping from Sharpshadow to Mirepurr, Singepaw frowns. Both of them advocate for peace, not wanting to pick any more fights with Windclan...but why not? Although Singepaw had grown more cautious, albeit somewhat, to throwing himself into every little fight, he's growing to detest the cries for forgiveness and turning the other cheek when Windclan has done wrong and continues to do wrong. What, they get a free pass because they got rid of a tyrant? Last Singepaw checked, Sootstar wasn't at the helm when Windclan took Orchidbloom's eye and stole prey from Shadowclan's side of the border.

Normally, the rallying cries for a common enemy would've filled Singepaw's veins with fire and vengeance, but instead, the boy's claws dug into the earth with disgust. The fox-dung was up with all this Chilledstar failed us rhetoric? Chilledstar's greatest flaw was their fear to act, and yet here Smogmaw is, continuing that trend by advocating only to watch and wait. Singepaw's tail leaves sparks in its wake with the ferocity behind each lash, but he moves no further. Grinding his teeth instead of opening his mouth, he sees no point in protesting when his limited view provides no other solution besides asking for a war. No, no, now isn't the time, especially when Smogmaw, for all his careful breathing and reserved expressions, still needs to find his footing as a leader.

Still, it pisses Singepaw off that Smogmaw's big promise for a better future was to wait for a weakness to present itself when what that really means is - let's let Windclan get away with their hare-shit until someone else loses an eye - bonus if it's Orchidbloom's remaining one! Smogmaw can look past maiming - but blinding? Now that would be crossing a line!

Looking away, Singepaw huffs under his breath to release some of the burden of keeping silent. From the corner of his eye, though, he glowers at his mentor - his deputy - his leader. A sinking feeling weighs heavy in his stomach. Nothing impressive, more akin to when he transitioned from nursery to apprentice's den - a reluctance for change rather than a fear of it.

"Do you all accept me as the new leader?"

Singepaw considers his question, his attention trailing from Smogmaw to that empty spot on Clanrock's worn-down stone face. That spot can't stay empty for the eternity Chilledstar's "mystery trip" lasts. Squinting against the morning light to better imagine who he'd see in his former leader's wake, Singepaw sighs and surmises his answer...

Yeah, sure, why not?

*°:⋆ₓₒ Updated 6/10/24

• 
  
• 
  
  
  
  GENERAL:
  ☄ Singepaw
  ☄ Cismale — He/him — Questioning sexuality
  ☄ 8 moons — Ages 1 moon every month on the 2nd
  ☄ NPC x Duckshimmer (brother to Swallowpaw, Sneezepaw)
  ☄ Shadowclan — Kit
  ☄ Apprenticed to Smogmaw
  
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ☄ Physically easy | mentally easy
  ☄ Attack inbold #b8312f
  ☄ Can be power played just ask
  injuries: none
  

​

 

[smogstar]

Positioned at Clanrock's foot with his back turned to it, front facing and aligned perfectly to view every clanmate who'd trickled into camp, Smogmaw displayed the new authority he held while also emphasising its accessibility. Any cat may approach him to voice an opinion, praise, grievance or concern at any given time—and therein, a secondary motive arose on the tom's end.

This meeting, in fact, aimed a tiny bit higher than merely acquainting his clanmates with the heavy-pawed approach to leadership he sought to exercise. To distinguish who among his council of Lead Warriors was more inclined to voice opposition to his ideas, and felt comfortable doing so before all eyes, so that he may take steps to swiftly and efficiently straighten them out early on.

A hardline strategy for certain. Less identical in purpose to how Sootstar'd gone about it; no intention existed to exile or reprimand detractors. Yet, the principle remained. By confronting disapproval as it presented itself, while reminding his council and clanmates alike where lines were drawn, Smogmaw would breed trust in his leadership. A firm paw at the reins, a measured claw unsheathed when necessary to apply pressure.

Ergo, Forestshade is first to draw his vigilant gaze after his speech. The molly makes it readily apparent that no promise for the future could overshadow the recent past, nor would she tolerate an agenda founded on denouncing Chilledstar's leadership. Her outburst, in part, comes from a place Smogmaw recognised and anticipated. She'd been at the leader's side during their last breaths, heard their last hushed words intended only for her. Understandably, and commendable in a way, she was protective over their legacy and reputation.

There's also a good possibility that she's just disgusted by the tom himself. Which, too, is understandable.

Her leader rebuffs the accusation with an assertion. "Then their name'll pass my lips only with respect from now on. Be assured, Forestshade." Lying to soothe her ego would do neither cat a favour. He will hold himself to this. Shouldn't fare much trouble, truth be told. "But it is well within my bounds to take a new look at what went wrong, and what could be improved. It is something any new leader must confront." Ironclad resolve hardens his amber gaze, a stern edge defining his second statement. "I know you know this. And you know, as I do, that we must be better prepared and stronger for the seasons ahead."

He would be remiss to expect her acceptance immediately. Forestshade is, and always has been, a creature wrought with stubbornness, obstinance, and sharp-clawed convictions. The tom can only dip his head in earnest, thanking her for her affirmation, and then address the other cats who've spoken up.

Or, in specific regards to Sharpshadow, Smogmaw would have addressed him—were she not so meek that the most she could offer was an averted stare and half-mewled answers. The feeble display leaves him unimpressed, mildly irked, and ultimately unmotivated to spend breath on her right now. Even so, he cannot begrudge him for it. Sharpshadow's insight always hides behind a veil of ambiguity. It is just how he functions as a cat, and a solitary, face-to-face exchange between them later could lend clarity to her hidden judgement.

Lilacfur vows her loyalty without a whisper of delay. Warmth begins to simmer somewhere in his mind, that being satisfaction—but he bites his lip, and attempts to channel his focus through the sharp sensation. Though he pines for others' praise and approval, it'd come to his detriment to dangle off every strand like a kit on a queen's belly. "Your commitment to your clan means everything. Thank you." A slight bow towards her, a gesture of recognition. The smile he flashes at her afterwards isn't wholly crafted from vanity.

The final council member to address the assembly, Mirepurr seems to have taken on a transformed tone during the time Smogmaw's attention shifted elsewhere. They highlight their worries in a succinct, forward manner, with a sharper focus on his role in making decisions for the clan.

The gut reaction Smogmaw feels it to perceive it as a jab. His tail fluffs out in response, a few whiskers pricking. But, with his own admission to past missteps (however brief) in mind, and the same pragmatism he's so worked to employ throughout his life, Smogmaw checks the urge. Mirepurr speaks from a place of wisdom. Their concerns deserve to be respected.

"There's no pretense here," the tom muses, earnest on his words. "I am not fooling myself, and hopefully any of you, into thinking I'm not prone to fucking up. I am. Who isn't, right?"

Case in point, unleashing scorn on Chilledstar when he could've exercised restraint. But, he'd also said something earlier about no hesitation, and he means to hold steadfast to it. Pah, the clan doesn't need to hear some 'nobody is perfect, but I'll try my best' tripe right now. He needs to provide something that'll linger, something everyone can mull over after the meeting's disbanded. "Along with the precision I spoke of, playing an equally strong role in any decision will be utmost caution," he starts, clearing his throat. He contrives an example instantaneously. "Peace is what I seek most with our moorland neighbours. But if Sunstar cannot promise us the same courtesy, if he cannot keep his patrols off our lands, we will enforce it—either by claw, or by giving WindClan no other choice."

Inviting war upon his clanmates isn't an option Smogmaw desires to entertain. But neither is allowing his clanmates to live in constant fear and uncertainty. ShadowClan's patience has been tested long enough. Decisive action is paramount, forward movement only.

He lifts his chin to conclude. "Caution, precision, and the strength that both lend us. Those are the truths ShadowClan may trust in from today onward." The words are true to their source: the tom's pride, brimming with surety. Yet, they pass his mouth with a peculiar fragility. There is a higher standard he must conform to, now. More to risk, where failure could spell doom on an entirely new level. Again, he is prone to fucking up.

It is with this in mind, Smogmaw clears the air. "We'll call an end here. Allow yourselves some further rest before morning patrols head out." ​