- May 20, 2023
- 16
- 0
- 1
Last edited:
Are you talking to me? | Bear discussion
- Thread starter >Ratwater
- Start date
- May 17, 2023
- 51
- 17
- 8
STUMPYSPOTS ♀ |
| Stumpyspots usually was not pessimistic, but in the case of the bears? The idea of getting them to move unless they themselves chose to was enough to make her snort. ”We are ShadowClan, we are strong, yes… but we are no fools!” She calls, her voice raspy as she pads forward to join the discussion. ”Those brutes that are “just” brutes will kill a cat in a single flick of its paw. I’ve seen those monsters nearly topple trees, I’ve seen their giant paw prints in the mud, we’ve all seen the damage it can do to a cat…” Thank StarClan Chilledstar had nine lives to spare, or they would’ve met StarClan that day. Stumpyspots doesn’t see any viable way to make the beasts leave. But she does offer one small observation, ”But by the off chance it helps, I’ve noticed one thing in my encounters… the bears are fast but they’re clumsy. Tire easily too.” The calico shrugs.  |
ROOSTERSTRUT
* ✰. — wayward son ❞
- Jan 9, 2023
- 147
- 32
- 28
❪ TAGS ❫ — Roosterstrut, too, was sick and tired of living under the noisy Thunderpath. He wanted to sleep in his old nest, surrounded by the tranquil marshlands. However, getting the unwelcome guests to vacate the premises was easier said than done. "Stumpyspots is right. We all saw what just one of them did to Chilledstar." Now, imagine facing off against multiple of them! Just the very thought caused a knot of anxiety to form in his stomach. "I want to get our camp back as much as the next cat, but... we can't risk anyone else's life."
After wracking his brain for ideas, the red tabby lifted his head and proposed, "What about asking another clan if they know anything about these creatures?" Some of his clanmates were too proud for their own good and would rather deal with this problem on their own, but Roosterstrut felt that there were limited options here. Was pride really better than leaving their camp to be overrun, dooming the clan to live in the tunnels forever? There was no shame in asking for help in a time of dire need. What if there was a chance that someone else in another clan knew more about the bears than ShadowClan did?
After wracking his brain for ideas, the red tabby lifted his head and proposed, "What about asking another clan if they know anything about these creatures?" Some of his clanmates were too proud for their own good and would rather deal with this problem on their own, but Roosterstrut felt that there were limited options here. Was pride really better than leaving their camp to be overrun, dooming the clan to live in the tunnels forever? There was no shame in asking for help in a time of dire need. What if there was a chance that someone else in another clan knew more about the bears than ShadowClan did?
Frostbite
Frost Wolf
- Sep 21, 2022
- 232
- 22
- 18
"We don't need another clan's help." Frostbite interjects sharply. He approaches those gathered and sits among them. "We can figure this out ourselves."
He would not be in debt to another clan. He would not see Shadowclan stepped on over owing someone else. Frosty eyes close as he begins to think. his tail twitches as he thinks. The bear cub was interested in the prey pile. Perhaps a lure..... He remembers the few times he had seen bears back home. They were much different than these ones, much worse, too. But he wonders.... Bears are carnivores.... Perhaps blood will help....
"We could try to lure them out." He suggests. "Catch something and cut it open, let it bleed and carry it out of the territory. Perhaps the bears will follow it." He suggests. "It's dangerous, but we're already in danger every second they're around, so."
He would not be in debt to another clan. He would not see Shadowclan stepped on over owing someone else. Frosty eyes close as he begins to think. his tail twitches as he thinks. The bear cub was interested in the prey pile. Perhaps a lure..... He remembers the few times he had seen bears back home. They were much different than these ones, much worse, too. But he wonders.... Bears are carnivores.... Perhaps blood will help....
"We could try to lure them out." He suggests. "Catch something and cut it open, let it bleed and carry it out of the territory. Perhaps the bears will follow it." He suggests. "It's dangerous, but we're already in danger every second they're around, so."
- May 20, 2023
- 16
- 0
- 1
A harsh laugh would rattle from the black and white femme. "Request aid from another clan?" She'd look upon the suggestion with mild fury. "Do you not know what Windclan did in our territory? It took my brother ripping their leader's throat out for them to get the message!" Ratwater would growl, still wanting the blood of the Windclan rat that had cut up her flank.
Her head would turn sharply to Frostbite, almost ready to defend the stance that they could fight this on their own but there was no need. She'd settle back in agreement to the white tom. Nodding her head along to the statements made, she'd take a deep breath. "So.. Clumsy and tire easy, if they wonder up unassuming with a lure we could have something that could scare them off.." She'd half list to herself. "Something they won't forget."
— tags
betonyfrost
i was built by wage, so i wage love and worse
- Jul 15, 2022
- 213
- 35
- 28
"And then what?" Betonyfrost cuts in from where she lays, folded paws tucked beneath her chin.
"I know you don't need to stretch your imagination too far for this, but pretend for a moment that you are a dumb animal. You smell yourself a bit of bloodscent and you follow it until you find the source and then — what?" Betonyfrost narrows her green eyes at Frostbite, lifts her head from where it had been pillowed, "Do you think they'll just stay where they are lead? After you eat a meal, do you decide to live wherever you've happened to land after, or do you go back home?"
Betonyfrost gives a small shake of her head, the harsh cuff and the demand to think heavily implied but not acted upon. There must be a way to get them gone and keep them gone. Or else there must be some other place for ShadowClan.
Ratwater's suggestion to frighten them perks Betonyfrost.
"Something that big... what could frighten it?" A dog, her mind leaps to. A monster, perhaps. Betonyfrost frowns. She imagines, however briefly, that ShadowClan would act as the rats in the Carrionplace do, swarming around something much larger than themselves until the bears are overwhelmed by numbers but — no. She has too much to lose now, something like that would never be worth the risk.
"I know you don't need to stretch your imagination too far for this, but pretend for a moment that you are a dumb animal. You smell yourself a bit of bloodscent and you follow it until you find the source and then — what?" Betonyfrost narrows her green eyes at Frostbite, lifts her head from where it had been pillowed, "Do you think they'll just stay where they are lead? After you eat a meal, do you decide to live wherever you've happened to land after, or do you go back home?"
Betonyfrost gives a small shake of her head, the harsh cuff and the demand to think heavily implied but not acted upon. There must be a way to get them gone and keep them gone. Or else there must be some other place for ShadowClan.
Ratwater's suggestion to frighten them perks Betonyfrost.
"Something that big... what could frighten it?" A dog, her mind leaps to. A monster, perhaps. Betonyfrost frowns. She imagines, however briefly, that ShadowClan would act as the rats in the Carrionplace do, swarming around something much larger than themselves until the bears are overwhelmed by numbers but — no. She has too much to lose now, something like that would never be worth the risk.
shadowclan queen | blue mackerel tabby | 20 moons | tags
smogmaw
schadenfreude.
- Oct 22, 2022
- 670
- 228
- 43
As per Smogmaw's perspective, ShadowClan's uninvited guests have drastically worn out their welcome. These ursine invaders have sundered him from his family and thrust their very survivals into the realm of uncertainty. They've butchered their leader and stolen one of their lives, brought wanton destruction to the hollow his clan calls home, and upended the lives of many in his clan, all during a time where his people were proven to be vulnerable to threats from beyond their borders. As he wallows in the boundaries of this hemmed-in passageway, swathed in repulsive stenches which would cause the strongest of stomachs to churn, the deputy's lips curl in disdain, unmasking yellowed fangs that bespoke the mounting strain, stress, and anguish from the preceding days.
A fit of quarelling bursts forth at the mouth of the tunnel. Scraps of arguments reach his ears and prompt him to rise with a gravelly scowl. Being isolated from their home dwelling has left everyone's nerves frayed, sure—but incessant infighting will only serve to cripple their hitherto-weakened position.
Raw displeasure etched clearly into his features, Smogmaw encroaches on the group with a hardened, yet infirm gait. It has come to his comprehension that his clanmates are confronting the obvious truth they're all already aware of. It should be equally obvious to them that the bears are impossible to predict; expecting them to follow some sort of trail exposes the pitfalls of his comrades' wishful thinking. He clears his throat before he speaks. "Amid your back-and-forthing, each one of you has stumbled upon a valid observation. These animals- these bears, they're clumsy, stupid, and can be lured."
A joint cracks loudly somewhere within him as he arches his spine into a precarious stretch. Lids lower and open in a tedious blink. "But," he says, his brows then creasing and his fierce glare adhering to the ginger-toned warrior in particular, "there's a game of willful ignorance that some of us are playing: clinging to this craven idea that if we avoid taking drastic action, our lives will somehow be safer for it." Inhaling sharply, he grimaces. "No. Our lives are already on the line, and they will stay there until we rid our home of these unwelcome oafs."
His voice resonates with a mix of frustration and resolve, each word laced with the weight of bitter experience. He, too, longs for the safety of camp, and grows increasingly comfortless with every passing day as the threat of the bears looms over his head. "Whether you choose to acknowledge it or not, I understand the fear and irritation." Smogmaw continues, the makings of a frown tugging at his otherwise pale expression. Not a forced contortion of his visage as a means to appease, but rather a betrayal of his usual, controlled demanour; a rare admittance of genuine sadness. "My mate and my children are missing. Part of me must logically assume they've met a similar end as Chilledstar's first life. Part of me." The words hang in the air for a fleeting moment, before the tom swallows any semblance of sentiment and once more adopts a stony air about him. "But fear... fear drives the meek to find safety in denial, and denying that we must lure the bears out ourselves is to deny fact in itself."
Muddy eyes drift towards Betonyfrost, whose concluding question echoes in his ears. "It is fortunate that most of us here are not meek, because the answer is simple, and it requires all our participation." Seizing a moment to articulate one of the cacophany of ideas in his mind comes as a rare occurrence—a deliberate act on his behalf, but this current moment is as good a time as any to put forth a suggestion he'd been sitting atop for some time. "The beast cannot attack one of us if it does not know who to attack—thus, every warrior and apprentice could come together to form a horde and lead it beyond our lands." His gaze skims over those present, pursuing any indication of agreement or - at the very least - acknowledgement. Perhaps there's a smidgen of bias involved, but he thinks it to be a sound plan.
"It will not give no chase for no reason, however; we'd need one or two of our fastest warriors to attract the bear's ire before joining the larger group." With eyebrows knit, his eyes themselves narrowed, the deputy would fixate his attention on a particular individual a final time. The desire to break into a smile nearly shatters his veil of deadpan sincerity. "You'd be a sound candidate for that role, Roosterstrut," he affirms, an endorsing dip of his head trailing the statement. "Your blood itself draws the allure of wild animals, and you've established yourself as a swift and nimble presence in our ranks. Just imagine the bear as a sparring partner, and you shall outpace it with ease."
A fit of quarelling bursts forth at the mouth of the tunnel. Scraps of arguments reach his ears and prompt him to rise with a gravelly scowl. Being isolated from their home dwelling has left everyone's nerves frayed, sure—but incessant infighting will only serve to cripple their hitherto-weakened position.
Raw displeasure etched clearly into his features, Smogmaw encroaches on the group with a hardened, yet infirm gait. It has come to his comprehension that his clanmates are confronting the obvious truth they're all already aware of. It should be equally obvious to them that the bears are impossible to predict; expecting them to follow some sort of trail exposes the pitfalls of his comrades' wishful thinking. He clears his throat before he speaks. "Amid your back-and-forthing, each one of you has stumbled upon a valid observation. These animals- these bears, they're clumsy, stupid, and can be lured."
A joint cracks loudly somewhere within him as he arches his spine into a precarious stretch. Lids lower and open in a tedious blink. "But," he says, his brows then creasing and his fierce glare adhering to the ginger-toned warrior in particular, "there's a game of willful ignorance that some of us are playing: clinging to this craven idea that if we avoid taking drastic action, our lives will somehow be safer for it." Inhaling sharply, he grimaces. "No. Our lives are already on the line, and they will stay there until we rid our home of these unwelcome oafs."
His voice resonates with a mix of frustration and resolve, each word laced with the weight of bitter experience. He, too, longs for the safety of camp, and grows increasingly comfortless with every passing day as the threat of the bears looms over his head. "Whether you choose to acknowledge it or not, I understand the fear and irritation." Smogmaw continues, the makings of a frown tugging at his otherwise pale expression. Not a forced contortion of his visage as a means to appease, but rather a betrayal of his usual, controlled demanour; a rare admittance of genuine sadness. "My mate and my children are missing. Part of me must logically assume they've met a similar end as Chilledstar's first life. Part of me." The words hang in the air for a fleeting moment, before the tom swallows any semblance of sentiment and once more adopts a stony air about him. "But fear... fear drives the meek to find safety in denial, and denying that we must lure the bears out ourselves is to deny fact in itself."
Muddy eyes drift towards Betonyfrost, whose concluding question echoes in his ears. "It is fortunate that most of us here are not meek, because the answer is simple, and it requires all our participation." Seizing a moment to articulate one of the cacophany of ideas in his mind comes as a rare occurrence—a deliberate act on his behalf, but this current moment is as good a time as any to put forth a suggestion he'd been sitting atop for some time. "The beast cannot attack one of us if it does not know who to attack—thus, every warrior and apprentice could come together to form a horde and lead it beyond our lands." His gaze skims over those present, pursuing any indication of agreement or - at the very least - acknowledgement. Perhaps there's a smidgen of bias involved, but he thinks it to be a sound plan.
"It will not give no chase for no reason, however; we'd need one or two of our fastest warriors to attract the bear's ire before joining the larger group." With eyebrows knit, his eyes themselves narrowed, the deputy would fixate his attention on a particular individual a final time. The desire to break into a smile nearly shatters his veil of deadpan sincerity. "You'd be a sound candidate for that role, Roosterstrut," he affirms, an endorsing dip of his head trailing the statement. "Your blood itself draws the allure of wild animals, and you've established yourself as a swift and nimble presence in our ranks. Just imagine the bear as a sparring partner, and you shall outpace it with ease."
ROOSTERSTRUT
* ✰. — wayward son ❞
- Jan 9, 2023
- 147
- 32
- 28
❪ TAGS ❫ — It really wasn't too much of a surprise that there would be naysayers, those who didn't agree with his sentiment that ShadowClan should approach this more cautiously. "But what if-" Frosbite had already gone on to describe his own idea of a plan, which truthfully didn't sound like the worst option — as long as the lure wasn't live bait and was some form of fresh-kill that would catch the attention of the beasts...
He nearly flinches, the criticizing response of Ratwater stinging like dirt in a fresh wound. Roosterstrut doesn't like confrontation nor being seen as the weak link; Smogmaw does more than enough to make him feel that way. He didn't need the disapproval of the senior warriors of the clan, those he held in high regard.
However, Roosterstrut is far from meek. He doesn't shy away from defending his stance, "With all due respect, asking for information does not equate to crawling to another clan on our bellies and throwing ourselves at their paws." At least it shouldn't, anyway. Were his clanmates really so stubborn and close-minded, even with their livelihoods at stake? Roosterstrut personally found no issue in asking around for any knowledge on the bears. "Maybe another clan has dealt with them before, or at least knows enough about their behavior to offer us some insight. Better than getting too close to them and risking another life." Taking measures to potentially protect the clan from unnecessarily dangerous situations was not weak in his eyes. Their pride would get them hurt, or worse!
Betonyfrost also poses another good point; luring the bears out was one thing, but what would make them stay away from their camp for good? What could possibly be big enough to scare them? A monster comes to mind, but as far as Roosterstrut knew, there was no communicating with them.
Another voice, grating to his ears, causes a deeply-rooted sense of anxiety to stir in the depths of his chest. Roosterstrut frowns, choosing to say nothing, even as the deputy offers him a pointed look. Always an opportunity to single him out and put him down, right? Little does Roosterstrut know, Smogmaw is about to say perhaps one of his boldest remarks yet. The red tabby physically perks up once the older tom turns the attention onto him again, suggesting that he play the role of the lure for the bears. Surprisingly, it isn't that suggestion alone that strikes a nerve within the young warrior, but what Smogmaw follows up with afterward. "My blood? What are you trying to say?" Roosterstrut is no fool. Soft-hearted, hesitant in the face of danger, avoidant of taking risks, but not naive. Deep down, he knows what Smogmaw is trying to say, but for some reason he can't bring himself to admit it until the mackarel tabby confirms for himself. Would Smogmaw dare bring up their private quarrel in the face of the public eye, now in a time of dire emergency?
He nearly flinches, the criticizing response of Ratwater stinging like dirt in a fresh wound. Roosterstrut doesn't like confrontation nor being seen as the weak link; Smogmaw does more than enough to make him feel that way. He didn't need the disapproval of the senior warriors of the clan, those he held in high regard.
However, Roosterstrut is far from meek. He doesn't shy away from defending his stance, "With all due respect, asking for information does not equate to crawling to another clan on our bellies and throwing ourselves at their paws." At least it shouldn't, anyway. Were his clanmates really so stubborn and close-minded, even with their livelihoods at stake? Roosterstrut personally found no issue in asking around for any knowledge on the bears. "Maybe another clan has dealt with them before, or at least knows enough about their behavior to offer us some insight. Better than getting too close to them and risking another life." Taking measures to potentially protect the clan from unnecessarily dangerous situations was not weak in his eyes. Their pride would get them hurt, or worse!
Betonyfrost also poses another good point; luring the bears out was one thing, but what would make them stay away from their camp for good? What could possibly be big enough to scare them? A monster comes to mind, but as far as Roosterstrut knew, there was no communicating with them.
Another voice, grating to his ears, causes a deeply-rooted sense of anxiety to stir in the depths of his chest. Roosterstrut frowns, choosing to say nothing, even as the deputy offers him a pointed look. Always an opportunity to single him out and put him down, right? Little does Roosterstrut know, Smogmaw is about to say perhaps one of his boldest remarks yet. The red tabby physically perks up once the older tom turns the attention onto him again, suggesting that he play the role of the lure for the bears. Surprisingly, it isn't that suggestion alone that strikes a nerve within the young warrior, but what Smogmaw follows up with afterward. "My blood? What are you trying to say?" Roosterstrut is no fool. Soft-hearted, hesitant in the face of danger, avoidant of taking risks, but not naive. Deep down, he knows what Smogmaw is trying to say, but for some reason he can't bring himself to admit it until the mackarel tabby confirms for himself. Would Smogmaw dare bring up their private quarrel in the face of the public eye, now in a time of dire emergency?
betonyfrost
i was built by wage, so i wage love and worse
- Jul 15, 2022
- 213
- 35
- 28
"You," Betonyfrost snaps at Smogmaw, as if the simple act of being himself is insult enough. Her empathy doesn't stretch to feel anything for the complicated emotions that Smogmaw must be wrestling with — she's never much cared for him, even hated him on occasion. Whatever proximity Betonyfrost had to Halfshade and her litter in the nursery could never make up for the flames in her gut.
"If you bleed Roosterstrut, I bleed you. Do not be mistaken and think that I wouldn't. If you want one of us to be bait, why shouldn't it be the one who suggested it? It'll be proof you truly believe in the idea." She stands fully then and rounds on Smogmaw, steps between him and Roosterstrut, "Or, if you have your doubts, we catch something, let it bleed without killing it and drag it where we need it. And then we hope our deputy's doubts don't poison his sound plan."
"If you bleed Roosterstrut, I bleed you. Do not be mistaken and think that I wouldn't. If you want one of us to be bait, why shouldn't it be the one who suggested it? It'll be proof you truly believe in the idea." She stands fully then and rounds on Smogmaw, steps between him and Roosterstrut, "Or, if you have your doubts, we catch something, let it bleed without killing it and drag it where we need it. And then we hope our deputy's doubts don't poison his sound plan."
shadowclan queen | blue mackerel tabby | 20 moons | tags
Frostbite
Frost Wolf
- Sep 21, 2022
- 232
- 22
- 18
His head turns sharply to Betonyfrost, bristling. "Did you think I meant to lead it just outside the territory? No, I meant farther. Perhaps even to the Horseplace on Windclan's side of the road. Let the twolegs deal with it." He says.
"But I suppose you're right, Betonyfrost, Leading it away doesnt mean it will stay away, gee, you're so smart." He said with an irritated grin. He wants to reach over and slap her. How dare she have a valid point.
His ire is contained for now because he knows Betonyfrost has a point, and therefore, he cannot stay angry. He has to seethe alone about it. His gaze shifts to Smogmaw as he begins talking, and he blinks at the sudden jab at Roosterstrut. He knows the two have....Less than favorable relations. But was now the time for such insults?
And now, even more infuriatingly, he finds himself agreeing with Betonyfrost. Frostbite was completely willing to act on his own idea, putting himself in danger to lead the bears away. Was Smogmaw made of the same stuff? He figured he was, he was just insulting Roosterstrut.
"Now isn't the time to take swipes at each other." He says, looking at Smogmaw. He wasn't aggressive about it, having respect for the deputy, but he felt it needed to be said.
"We will find Halfshade and your kits. They're safe. They have to be." Perhaps he was in denial, but Halfshade was strong and smart. He had faith in her abilities.
"If we want to aggravate the bear to get its attention, though.....Perhaps its cub will be of use." He suggests. Cruel, maybe. But their own kits were in danger, and he will choose Shadowclan over a bear.
"But I suppose you're right, Betonyfrost, Leading it away doesnt mean it will stay away, gee, you're so smart." He said with an irritated grin. He wants to reach over and slap her. How dare she have a valid point.
His ire is contained for now because he knows Betonyfrost has a point, and therefore, he cannot stay angry. He has to seethe alone about it. His gaze shifts to Smogmaw as he begins talking, and he blinks at the sudden jab at Roosterstrut. He knows the two have....Less than favorable relations. But was now the time for such insults?
And now, even more infuriatingly, he finds himself agreeing with Betonyfrost. Frostbite was completely willing to act on his own idea, putting himself in danger to lead the bears away. Was Smogmaw made of the same stuff? He figured he was, he was just insulting Roosterstrut.
"Now isn't the time to take swipes at each other." He says, looking at Smogmaw. He wasn't aggressive about it, having respect for the deputy, but he felt it needed to be said.
"We will find Halfshade and your kits. They're safe. They have to be." Perhaps he was in denial, but Halfshade was strong and smart. He had faith in her abilities.
"If we want to aggravate the bear to get its attention, though.....Perhaps its cub will be of use." He suggests. Cruel, maybe. But their own kits were in danger, and he will choose Shadowclan over a bear.
smogmaw
schadenfreude.
- Oct 22, 2022
- 670
- 228
- 43
Craven words spill from Roosterstrut's jaws, and not a cursory glance nor a lone shrivel of heed is afforded to them. In yet another abysmal display of his own fragility, the ginger tom is unable to muster anything more than a half-choked rhetorical question as a response. It's quite in line with his botched attempt at warriorship and thus fails to evoke even a flicker of concern from within the deputy. He is well aware of the deliberate construction of Smogmaw's words, and rather than confront it, or simply acknowledge it, he feigns ignorance and tries to goad him into elaborate further. To which, the older tom remains steadfast in his indifference. As to why Roosterstrut feels a need to play stupid is completely beyond him, given that his incompetence is already common knowledge.
Rather, it is the dismal mien of Betonyfrost serving as the subject of his scrutiny. The same latent animosity that seeps through the words she spews at him also seems to cloud her judgement, for the mottled queen speaks as though her reputation was one of righteousness and not one of mutinous treachery. Unforgotten were the wounds she'd so keenly given to Pitchstar's sister, and unforgotten was the punishment given to her in turn. Both were unforgotten in Betonyfrost's mind as well, and that much he was sure of—her ugly, mangled ears will forever remind her of how eager she was to hurt a clanmate so many moons ago.
"Your past actions add a certain gravity to your words, Betonyfrost," he meows simply, though his tone drips with foreboding. His eyes lock with her emerald hues, and as she places herself in the midst of him and Roosterstrut, his brows would ever-so-slightly knit together. "You talk about integrity as though it's something you understand, but let us not forget the scars that you carry," he continues, "or, more appropriately, the scars you'd put on Lilacpaw's face. You'll come to sorely regret threatening me or anyone else in this clan again. Now get the hell out of my way and let the boy sharpen his claws." There will be worse punishments in store for her than sleeping outside should she fail to listen.
Frostbite, StarClan love him, does his utmost to mediate the rapidly-spiraling discussion. His words would fall upon deaf ears for the most part. His efforts earn him a nod in acknowledgement from Smogmaw and a softening of his demeanour, yet the deputy's intentions remain the same. "You're right, Frostbite. You're right. We're all dangling over the precipice of our collective sanity, getting kicked out of our home by beasts and being forced to live in these awful tunnels. It's gotten to a lot of us. It's very much gotten to me."
His eyes circumvent Betonyfrost's figure to glimpse orange strands flitting past her pudgy outline. "I apologise for that remark, by the way," the deputy adds, tone tinged with coaxed remorse. If there's one aspect of Roosterstrut's feeble masquerade of being a warrior that he hates the most, it's his relying on others to fight his own battles. "What'd happened to your predecessor still casts a long shadow over your capabilities, and I know you're still sensitive about it. It's alright if you aren't yet able to succeed where he couldn't. That day'll come eventually."
Amidst the nonsensical turmoil that was this discussion, Smogmaw begins to assemble fragments of agreed-upon knowledge about the bears. Dangerous. Fast. Clumsy. Tire easily. Lurable. And above all, aggressive towards his kind. He yet retains an unshakable belief that he and his clanmates may be able to confuse the bears as a group. It's a hypothesis he'll hold on to for the time being.
Rather, it is the dismal mien of Betonyfrost serving as the subject of his scrutiny. The same latent animosity that seeps through the words she spews at him also seems to cloud her judgement, for the mottled queen speaks as though her reputation was one of righteousness and not one of mutinous treachery. Unforgotten were the wounds she'd so keenly given to Pitchstar's sister, and unforgotten was the punishment given to her in turn. Both were unforgotten in Betonyfrost's mind as well, and that much he was sure of—her ugly, mangled ears will forever remind her of how eager she was to hurt a clanmate so many moons ago.
"Your past actions add a certain gravity to your words, Betonyfrost," he meows simply, though his tone drips with foreboding. His eyes lock with her emerald hues, and as she places herself in the midst of him and Roosterstrut, his brows would ever-so-slightly knit together. "You talk about integrity as though it's something you understand, but let us not forget the scars that you carry," he continues, "or, more appropriately, the scars you'd put on Lilacpaw's face. You'll come to sorely regret threatening me or anyone else in this clan again. Now get the hell out of my way and let the boy sharpen his claws." There will be worse punishments in store for her than sleeping outside should she fail to listen.
Frostbite, StarClan love him, does his utmost to mediate the rapidly-spiraling discussion. His words would fall upon deaf ears for the most part. His efforts earn him a nod in acknowledgement from Smogmaw and a softening of his demeanour, yet the deputy's intentions remain the same. "You're right, Frostbite. You're right. We're all dangling over the precipice of our collective sanity, getting kicked out of our home by beasts and being forced to live in these awful tunnels. It's gotten to a lot of us. It's very much gotten to me."
His eyes circumvent Betonyfrost's figure to glimpse orange strands flitting past her pudgy outline. "I apologise for that remark, by the way," the deputy adds, tone tinged with coaxed remorse. If there's one aspect of Roosterstrut's feeble masquerade of being a warrior that he hates the most, it's his relying on others to fight his own battles. "What'd happened to your predecessor still casts a long shadow over your capabilities, and I know you're still sensitive about it. It's alright if you aren't yet able to succeed where he couldn't. That day'll come eventually."
Amidst the nonsensical turmoil that was this discussion, Smogmaw begins to assemble fragments of agreed-upon knowledge about the bears. Dangerous. Fast. Clumsy. Tire easily. Lurable. And above all, aggressive towards his kind. He yet retains an unshakable belief that he and his clanmates may be able to confuse the bears as a group. It's a hypothesis he'll hold on to for the time being.
ROOSTERSTRUT
* ✰. — wayward son ❞
- Jan 9, 2023
- 147
- 32
- 28
❪ TAGS ❫ — Betonyfrost's words hardly register in Roosterstrut's mind, his skin radiating warmth now as blood pumped through his veins and thundered in his ears. Any other time, he likely would have been surprised and perhaps even touched at the mackerel she-cat jumping to his defense, but right now his attention was locked onto Smogmaw only. Betonyfrost stands between them now, but his narrowed eyes seem to burn into Smogmaw's own.
Other words attempt to invade the walls of his brain but are only shut out, tension wracking his shoulders and jaw muscles as he awaited a response from the deputy. As if the insults geared toward him weren't stinging enough, Smogmaw was now bringing his deceased father into this.
"It's alright if you aren't yet able to succeed where he couldn't."
Roosterstrut hears nothing else. How dare he. How dare he.
Smogmaw watched Goose get mauled to death, torn apart. He had been the one to witness his father take his last breath, something that Roosterstrut wished he could have been there for, and yet he chooses to sully his memory! Goose wasn't just a name to throw at Roosterstrut in order to manipulate his emotions; he was a better cat than Smogmaw could ever dream to be!
"SNAKEHEART!" Roosterstrut lets forth a strangled yowl. He sees red, any restraints unbuckled now and any deterrence from his clanmates unable to be registered. Without a second more to spare, the red tabby tom darted around Betonyfrost and launched himself at Smogmaw, aiming to latch onto his neck and yank him down onto the ground.
Other words attempt to invade the walls of his brain but are only shut out, tension wracking his shoulders and jaw muscles as he awaited a response from the deputy. As if the insults geared toward him weren't stinging enough, Smogmaw was now bringing his deceased father into this.
"It's alright if you aren't yet able to succeed where he couldn't."
Roosterstrut hears nothing else. How dare he. How dare he.
Smogmaw watched Goose get mauled to death, torn apart. He had been the one to witness his father take his last breath, something that Roosterstrut wished he could have been there for, and yet he chooses to sully his memory! Goose wasn't just a name to throw at Roosterstrut in order to manipulate his emotions; he was a better cat than Smogmaw could ever dream to be!
"SNAKEHEART!" Roosterstrut lets forth a strangled yowl. He sees red, any restraints unbuckled now and any deterrence from his clanmates unable to be registered. Without a second more to spare, the red tabby tom darted around Betonyfrost and launched himself at Smogmaw, aiming to latch onto his neck and yank him down onto the ground.
- May 17, 2023
- 51
- 17
- 8
|
STUMPYSPOTS ♀ |
| Stumpyspots finds herself in a state of mental whiplash. Smogmaw- she can never tell if he’s serious or not- proposes they bleed Roosterstrut. Though not spoken outright, it sounds a lot like using him as bait to her. Betonyfrost is quick to Roosterstrut’s defense, hissing that if he is harmed Smogmaw will be too. From there it explodes and the debate rolls rapidly downhill, sly insults are spit before a streak of red collides with blue. Roosterstrut has launched himself at Smogmaw, she’s not sure if she’ll see claws but she jumps onto her stumpy legs. ”No one stop them! Sometimes the only way fury between two warriors can be set aside is through a good fight.” If it took a duel for these two to put their differences aside and unite for the better good of the clan, so be it. Let them lick their muddy wounds, let them be scolded by Starlingheart. Regardless these two cats were idiots, not monsters, she doesn’t suspect they’ll kill each other. |
smogmaw
schadenfreude.
- Oct 22, 2022
- 670
- 228
- 43
Push has ultimately come to shove, and Smogmaw hardly foresees the historic moment which would ensue. Roosterstrut's restraints shatter under the weight of his words, and in a sudden flare-up of uninhibited aggression, the tom bounds around his protector and hotfoots directly towards him. Eyes stretch wide in the brief moment before he's wrenched to the ground. The haze of voluntary cowardice, it would appear, has at long last dissipated.
As he'd made no attempt at preemptive defence or evasion, the younger tom trounces him with ease. Ginger limps enfold the murky strands of his neck and drive his form into the clammy soil below with an 'Oomph!'. Bereft of his breath from the impact's force, and burdened by the damage endured in the WindClan attack, Smogmaw has immense difficulty in fending off the opposing warrior during the intense ground scuffle. The close quarters make it nigh on impossible to place an opening on Roosterstrut's form. Teeth grit together as his paws press urgently against the aggressor's fur, but when claw-tips rake down the tissue of his muzzle and dispatch pulses of new pain through his senses, his eyes knit together and any amount of progress he'd made becomes squandered.
But, the tabby's resolve intensifies.
His shoulders propel themselves off their side, so that he lays on his back with Roosterstrut on top. Hoisting his adversary above him elevates his own vulnerability in turn, though this position allots him more control of the situation than in moments prior. Paws rummage through the tufts of the other's underbelly, and when they locate the bottom side of his front limbs, he attempts to push his foe up and keep him pried off.
With his advantageous posture, Roosterstrut is perfectly positioned to inflict a decisive laceration across his face. This isn't about winning the fight unscathed, or winning the fight at all, but proving a point—a point that has long since lost meaning or proper definition, yet Smogmaw clings to it as if it were his focal motivation. "Finish what you've started!" the deputy would growl, his voice hoarse with pain and defiance. He hasn't much energy left, not physical, not mental.
As he'd made no attempt at preemptive defence or evasion, the younger tom trounces him with ease. Ginger limps enfold the murky strands of his neck and drive his form into the clammy soil below with an 'Oomph!'. Bereft of his breath from the impact's force, and burdened by the damage endured in the WindClan attack, Smogmaw has immense difficulty in fending off the opposing warrior during the intense ground scuffle. The close quarters make it nigh on impossible to place an opening on Roosterstrut's form. Teeth grit together as his paws press urgently against the aggressor's fur, but when claw-tips rake down the tissue of his muzzle and dispatch pulses of new pain through his senses, his eyes knit together and any amount of progress he'd made becomes squandered.
But, the tabby's resolve intensifies.
His shoulders propel themselves off their side, so that he lays on his back with Roosterstrut on top. Hoisting his adversary above him elevates his own vulnerability in turn, though this position allots him more control of the situation than in moments prior. Paws rummage through the tufts of the other's underbelly, and when they locate the bottom side of his front limbs, he attempts to push his foe up and keep him pried off.
With his advantageous posture, Roosterstrut is perfectly positioned to inflict a decisive laceration across his face. This isn't about winning the fight unscathed, or winning the fight at all, but proving a point—a point that has long since lost meaning or proper definition, yet Smogmaw clings to it as if it were his focal motivation. "Finish what you've started!" the deputy would growl, his voice hoarse with pain and defiance. He hasn't much energy left, not physical, not mental.
- Feb 4, 2023
- 42
- 3
- 8
Rainecho is listening to the whole discussion with a somber expression, quiet and thoughtful. If they went toe-to-toe against this creature there was no way they would win. She herself would be doing no such thing anytime soon. She had seen the claws at the end of those fearsome paws, had seen the teeth and the mouth that could swallow a cat whole. But she also missed home. Most of her clanmates had their own reasonings for hating the tunnel. Memories of fire and smoke and the sound of cats keening mournfully raged through her thoughts but the reasons she did not like this place was simple. It was not home. Home was among the pines, not in some dirty twoleg thing listening to monsters roar like thunder above their heads.
Rainecho cannot help the warning growl that escapes her throat when Smogmaw speaks. Their deputy and Roosterstrut had never gotten along. It is with confidence though that Rainecho could say that Roo is not missing much in that relationship. What Halfshade sees in this miserable tom she has not a clue. She is stepping forward to say something but it is to her surprise that Betonyfrost speaks first. She threatens to make Smogmaw bleed if one drop of Roosterstruts blood is shed and though she did not want to be on the same side as her, she cannot help but feel thankful.
It happens in a flash, the moment that she blinks she hears Smogmaw say something and then Roo is gone in a blinding flash of orange tabby fur. He is launching himself at Smogmaw and she cannot help the gasp that passes through her jaws. She is stepping forward to pull them apart, long limbs already primed to carry her there swiftly but Stumpyspot's words give her pause. She was right, of course. This was between Roosterstrut and Smogmaw. She watches with worry in her multi-colored eyes as the warrior pins their deputy, waiting with bated breath to see what was going to happen.
brackenlight
you're the one
- Jun 28, 2023
- 10
- 2
- 3
Like Rainecho, Brackenlight simply listens to the discussion without contributing herself, brow furrowed and white-tipped tail twitching restlessly. It's not that she doesn't want to help, but it can be hard to get a word in with this crowd sometimes -- or, perhaps more accurately, to want to when so many of them are as tense and snippy as they are. To be fair, she can understand why cats are so tense right now; their current situation doesn't exactly lend itself to positive attitudes and patient tempers. Just listening to some of them get into it with each other is irritating the cinnamon-furred molly.
It's harder to excuse Smogmaw's attitude toward Roosterstrut, though. A suggestion dies on her lips, which instead curl into a look of disdain as she watches the confrontation unfold and escalate as Betonyfrost aggressively steps in and meets her own backlash from the silver tabby. His words, directed toward both warriors, drip with venom. She supposes Betonyfrost is somewhat deserving, given the behavior he cites, but still -- how unprofessional for the deputy to be acting the way he is, speaking to Roosterstrut in such a way! Not to mention outright cruel. How will Chilledstar react when they hear of it? Brackenlight finds herself tense as she watches, briefly glancing around at the others to gauge their expressions.
Her yellow gaze is yanked back to the exchange when Roosterstrut suddenly launches himself at Smogmaw with a shout -- warranted, she thinks, but nothing Brackenlight would ever do herself. She can't imagine the fallout this will surely manifest, would absolutely loathe being in the poor tom's position. Just the thought makes her anxious -- but nothing nearly as severe as observing the impromptu brawl. "Guys-" she starts weakly, but Stumpyspots cuts her off. She looks at the older warrior with deep concern, but despite her misgivings she's beyond content to stay out of it. Now Chilledstar's really gonna be pissed.
It's harder to excuse Smogmaw's attitude toward Roosterstrut, though. A suggestion dies on her lips, which instead curl into a look of disdain as she watches the confrontation unfold and escalate as Betonyfrost aggressively steps in and meets her own backlash from the silver tabby. His words, directed toward both warriors, drip with venom. She supposes Betonyfrost is somewhat deserving, given the behavior he cites, but still -- how unprofessional for the deputy to be acting the way he is, speaking to Roosterstrut in such a way! Not to mention outright cruel. How will Chilledstar react when they hear of it? Brackenlight finds herself tense as she watches, briefly glancing around at the others to gauge their expressions.
Her yellow gaze is yanked back to the exchange when Roosterstrut suddenly launches himself at Smogmaw with a shout -- warranted, she thinks, but nothing Brackenlight would ever do herself. She can't imagine the fallout this will surely manifest, would absolutely loathe being in the poor tom's position. Just the thought makes her anxious -- but nothing nearly as severe as observing the impromptu brawl. "Guys-" she starts weakly, but Stumpyspots cuts her off. She looks at the older warrior with deep concern, but despite her misgivings she's beyond content to stay out of it. Now Chilledstar's really gonna be pissed.
ROOSTERSTRUT
* ✰. — wayward son ❞
- Jan 9, 2023
- 147
- 32
- 28
Shouts of his clanmates instantaneously rang out around them, though they were not heeded by the enraged warrior. Once above Roosterstrut, he would lash his claws out toward Smogmaw's face. However, the deputy is keeping him away to the best of his ability, only challenging him with his words. He isn't even trying to fight back! He's keeping Roosterstrut from him like a chained dog, egging him on, wanting him to rip him to shreds in front of his clanmates. Foul-breathed, dung-faced son of a—
By a StarClan-sent miracle, in such a flurried moment of hot anger and feral rage, sense knocks into Roosterstrut's brain. He had been practically thrashing to try and tear his claws across the older male, and a quick glance upward reveals the concerned and even shocked expressions of his clanmates. They had gathered here to discuss the larger problem at hand, but instead the situation had spiraled out of control.
Roosterstrut, after a moment of contemplation, backs off of the deputy and takes a step back all while his chest heaved in the process of calming himself. An urge to shout more expletives at the ashen deputy wells within, but instead a sharp huff expels from his nostrils like an exasperated bull. He knows that Smogmaw will call him a coward for not "finishing what he started". He knows others would too. However, Roosterstrut wasn't some beast blinded by anger, unable to control himself. He didn't want others to see him like that, either. Rooster was better than this; his mother knew it, his father knew it, StarClan rest their souls.
With a bitter glare, Roosterstrut said nothing and turned on his heels to storm off.
// out!
By a StarClan-sent miracle, in such a flurried moment of hot anger and feral rage, sense knocks into Roosterstrut's brain. He had been practically thrashing to try and tear his claws across the older male, and a quick glance upward reveals the concerned and even shocked expressions of his clanmates. They had gathered here to discuss the larger problem at hand, but instead the situation had spiraled out of control.
Roosterstrut, after a moment of contemplation, backs off of the deputy and takes a step back all while his chest heaved in the process of calming himself. An urge to shout more expletives at the ashen deputy wells within, but instead a sharp huff expels from his nostrils like an exasperated bull. He knows that Smogmaw will call him a coward for not "finishing what he started". He knows others would too. However, Roosterstrut wasn't some beast blinded by anger, unable to control himself. He didn't want others to see him like that, either. Rooster was better than this; his mother knew it, his father knew it, StarClan rest their souls.
With a bitter glare, Roosterstrut said nothing and turned on his heels to storm off.
// out!
Last edited: