BENEATH A DIFFERENT LIGHT [thunderpath]

š“Šš“‹¼ Falconheart doesnā€™t live in fear, exactly, but itā€™s definitely something akin to that. His relationships with his parents, with his clanmates, with even the land that he walks uponā€”itā€™s all flooded with too much knowledge, too much awareness of whatā€™s happened before and what could happen again. Sunningrocks had been a battlefield and will be again. The small stream near the Owl Tree had seen Duskbird ripped from the world and could easily have taken Howlingstar as well. The part of the territory where Sandthorn had been killed. The pine forest border, where heā€™d broken the code and fled from SkyClanā€™s warriors. Theyā€™re all too dangerous; they make his fur prickle just being near them.

The Thunderpath is a special case, much different from the others. He canā€™t recall ever seeing anything die hereā€”but he knows that itā€™s happened before, and all too frequently. A ThunderClan apprentice had even been killed on it, as had a ShadowClan leader, who had all of her lives ripped away at once. Monsters are a greater threat than the wolves head-on, but at least they stay on their path. They donā€™t rush into the forest, leaving splatterings of blood and gore across tree trunks and the leaves of bushes in their path. Theyā€™re more destructive, sureā€¦ but theyā€™re more predictable. More avoidable. Falconheart can still handle approaching the Thunderpath without feeling a new surge of anxiety roaring through his chest, its current threatening to drag him under the surface and drown him. But as the patrol stalks closer and closer to the border, something feelsā€¦ wrong. The smell is off, something wafting through the air, strange and foreign.

At last, Falconheart pushes through the underbrush to look out at the Thunderpath, and what he sees shocks him into a moment of stunned, horrified silence.

A monster is off the path. Its mouthā€”surely thatā€™s its mouthā€”is propped open, jagged edges baring sharp teeth. Some parts of its shiny, brightly-colored exoskeleton have peeled away to reveal the dulled innards. There isnā€™t any blood-smell, so there doesnā€™t seem to be any death here, but that doesnā€™t seem right when thereā€™s a monster sitting ferociously at the Thunderpathā€™s edge. Something within the tom cracks, concern lighting up a headache behind his eyes, but Falconheart doesnā€™t panic. "Stay back," he warns the rest of the patrol, a flick of his bushy tail accompanying his words. His paws used to tremble at the idea of giving an order, even issuing a warning to keep others safe, but as he takes a step forward there isnā€™t even a heartbeat of hesitation. If a monster has left the path, then something is terribly wrong. And as he waves his tail to the patrol, ducking into a patch of dense undergrowth.

We should run. We should leave. His better sense screams at him, but still the warrior doesnā€™t move from where he crouches in a bush. Through leaves and shadows he sees something else moving across the Thunderpath, a rumble greater than any heā€™s felt before crawling up his limbs. And then it comes into viewā€”an even larger monster. Its back is flat, unlike the injured monster, and it moves toward the other as though sizing it up. Finally a twoleg exits the larger monster, and Falconheartā€™s eyes widen in horror as another twoleg exits the injured monster. The twolegs both pull something from one of the monsters, tongue-like, and it is attached to the injured monster. Thenā€”a horrible screeching noise, as the injured monster is pulled backward, toward the larger one.

Is this how monsters hunt, how they eat? He doesnā€™t understand. He looks to the others in the patrol, his jaw tense with nerves. "What is it doing?" Why is one monsterā€¦ eating another? Will they be next? It doesnā€™t seem safe to leave their hiding place now that theyā€™re here, so he stays put even as the monster begins to make an even louder screeching noise, jerking a bit further into the other monsterā€™s maw. They shouldā€¦ they should leave. But what if they leave, and one of the monsters rushes off into the territory without anyone around to notice?

  • ooc: TLDR; a car crashed into a tree and is being pulled onto a flatbed tow truck!
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    FALCONHEART āÆāÆ he/him, thunderclan warrior
    ā­ƒ shorter than average cream tabby with white spotting. seems gloomy and has few friends, but is a hard worker and never neglects his duties.
    ā­ƒ son of flamewhisker and flycatcher ; brother to stormfeather, scorchedkit, bugkit, sunkit, squirrelkit, sparrowpaw
    ā­ƒ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
    ā­ƒ penned by foxlore
 
The scent in the air is something like fire, something like smoke, but there's a metallic tang Raccoonstripe associates with Twoleg monsters. Falconheart waves his tail in a warning signal as they exit the undergrowth toward the Thunderpath. Raccoonstripe's pelt bristles once he sees what the younger warrior is looking at. A monster has detoured from the Thunderpath, smashed unbecomingly into a tree. Its shiny skin is flayed, revealing dull gray flesh, and its gaping mouth shows a mess of off-color insides that twist around one another in a heap. He exhales, his tail lifting in tandem with Falconheart's. "He's right. Don't get any closer, Thistlepaw," he warns his apprentice.

He watches with a distinct feeling of horror as another monster approaches on slow, deliberate paws. Every atom in his being is urging him to flee, but fascination keeps him rooted in place. "What is it doing?" Falconheart asks, mystified, as the injured monster is hauled onto the slanted back of the newcomer.

Raccoonstripe's brow furrows. His first instinct is to be dismissive: "How can we ever pretend to know what Twolegs and monsters do?" After a heartbeat, though, he says, "Do you think... do you think that bigger monster is helping it?" He suppresses a shudder, wrinkling his nose against the offensive stench of wrangled metal.

  • ooc: apprentice tag @THISTLEPAW
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  • Raccoon . Raccoonstripe, he/him w/ masculine terms.
    ā€” ā€œspeechā€, thoughts, attack
    ā€” 37 moons old, ages realistically on the 5th.
    ā€” mentored by n/a ; mentoring Thistlepaw ; previously mentored Wildheart, Moonwhisper
    ā€” thunderclan lead warrior. gray wolf x howlingstar, gen 2.
    ā€” currently mated to Nightbird.
    ā€” penned by Marquette.

    lh black tabby with white and dark brown eyes. charismatic, charming, calculating, ambitious, shallow, manipulative.


 

The acrid stench of the Thunderpath was worse than ever, today- Thundergleam's usual bright prattling was quieted by the thick, sickening scent in the air. Rather than prancing forward, she stuck as a bright shadow would, drifting ghostly along the rest of the patrol. Stay back, said Falconheart- and then Thundergleam saw it, her suriosity overriding her wariness for a thoughtless moment. The screeching, the bitter, ashen stench... she had never seen anything worse. Or heard anything worse than that squeaking, scraping squeal, a wail of a terrible beast in pain, surely.

Raccoonstripes theory, cloaked in wary thickness, had Thundergleam shaking her head. Oh, Father had warned her of the Thunderpath, put this was the first time she had seen the power of these... these... hellish things in her entire life. Fear gripped her throat tightly, pressing its claws into her throat and thinning her breath. "No, no... no, this is- cannibalism, it must be..." Cosmic fear thrashed in blossom-light eyes. Scarlet pupils shrank with unfathomable horror. "They feed on each other... and yet, no blood to speak of... no flesh..." she shook her head.

"No- no suffering in those eyes, either. There is nothing at all. How- how could you begin to understand...?" What was there to understand? There was nothing but burnt smells and smashed flesh, crumpled and yet without a flicker of pain, or the stench of a body decomposing...

\ mentor tag @STORMYWING
penned by pin ā˜¾
 

The Thunderpath is not something that Softpaw has ever found herself interested in, apart from knowing its general danger and to avoid it - after all, why spend time obsessing over something that so quickly could take the life of a cat, with its roaring monsters? But she finds herself alongside Falconheart in a patrol that leads them close to the path, and so she witnesses the same thing that everyone else does: the stifling stench, harsh and rapacious, and the odd scenario playing out before them; whether that be helping another or cannibalism, Softpaw wasn't sure she could decide, either.

"Do the Twolegs facilitate... whatever this is?" Softpaw asks, looking to the more experience warriors, as though they might have any idea what's going on; but already with Raccoonstripe's hesitance, she doubts there's a known answer to her question. It was odd enough that Twolegs got in and out of monsters' bellies - but to see them now, standing by as this occurred, it spurred on Softpaw's curiosity.

 
WE WERE PLAYING IN THE SAND


monsters were interesting. he isn't sure if he's ever even seen any of them before joining thunderclan. and now here he is at the thunderpath, watching them. curiosity is one of the things he always has going for him. his head tilts as he watches the monsters do this... dance? can he call it that? his brows furrowed as he whispers to softpaw.

"what does facilitate mean? what are they doin'?"

he doesn't quite hear whatever it is that thundergleam says about... cannibalism. he doesn't even know what that means either and thus he simply turns his attention back to the monsters. he's not scared of anything but they are loud. he wonders, why are they that loud? twolegs seem to get inside of their bellies and... he doesn't understand still.

"what do monsters do?"

 
Though she'd been a kittypet, Stormywing has no recollection of monsters during her time there. She thinks she'd maybe been inside one once when she was very young, but that's just what her mother had told her. To think she ever could have been inside one of the disgusting things...ugh, it makes her shiver. She is crouched defensively in front of Thundergleam, the tips of her fangs bared as if she is prepared to lunge right at one of the monsters and fight them if it gets too close. "Monsters don't help anyone but themselves," She growls, supporting her apprentice's claim.

Orangepaw pipes up next to her, asking the dumb questions only a kid would. "She means, are the twolegs making them do this," She explains without taking her eyes off of the strange scene before them. What do monsters do? Yeesh, has Butterflyskip not taught him anything? "They roam the thunderpaths, killing anything in their way. They don't...usually step off the paths. Not like this..." Yellow eyes narrow as she watches, agitation growing within her. What the heck is going on?
 

The thunderpath is not a place foreign to him, although often times he wished it was. More cats than he knows have died at the paws of the terrible beasts that roam here, his mothers apprentice included. He remembers Ragwortpaw, so bright and with paws eager to help. How quickly her flame had been extinguished by these terrible creatures. If he could do away with one thing in the forest it would be this. His nose wrinkles when the patrol draws near, the stench emanating off the path assaulting his nose in a way only twolegs and their creations could. What kittypets saw in these beasts he would never begin to understand. When the patrol breaks the undergrowth everything comes to a standstill. The cats of ThunderClan look on in mutual horror as the flat monster raises the other monster up, himself included. Speculations are murmured as the cats around him try to make sense of what they are seeing.

He himself is inclined to agree with his uncle, in this case. When Falconheart asks what it is doing his immediate answer is along the same lines. "Who in StarClan knows" he grumbles under his breath in both response to his former apprentice and the rest of the cats who ask questions pertaining to the spectacle unfolding before them. Raccoonstripe suggests they are helping one another, Thundergleam says that perhaps one is eating the other. He is not sure who he thinks is right. Softpaw chimes in too, and now there's an interesting thought. The twolegs were watching this happen, and they looked relatively calm (or so he guesses anyways, he is no expert afterall). He barely hears Orangepaw's question but his head swings to lock golden eyes upon his friends stone-gray pelt as she answers. Monsters don't help anyone but themselves she says and he nods his head brusquely in agreement. "Hopefully they leave soon. but until then we should keep an eye on them. In case they venture further into the forest." It had never happened before that he knows of, but the monsters being off the path right now were making him anxious that it could.
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    BURNSTORM THUNDERCLAN LEAD WARRIOR ; HE / HIM ; BROTHER TO MORNINGPAW, MOONWHISPER, HOWLFIRE, FIREFLYPAW, SKYCLAW & DUSKBIRD ; MATE TO ROEFLAME ; FATHER TO DOVEKIT, BEETLEKIT, AND LITTLEKIT
    A large, sharp tongued, tom with long black fur and golden, oval shaped, eyes.
    āœ¦ Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + fights honorably
[/i][/I]​
 
*+:ļ½”.ļ½” Wildheart had warned Wrathpaw of the thunder-path, but the boy had never thought...couldn't have imagined....fear gripped his heart as he peered behind the shoulders of his clanmates to look at the destruction. It was all too loud, the metallic twang of unnatural pelts scraping against each other making his large ears flatten hard against his head. Lowering himself into a crouch, Wrathpaw paws feebly at his ears, hating the screech of the dying monster, its death-smell no less piercing. "How are the two-legs able to go inside of it?" Wrathpaw practically mewled, petrified as he watched the shadows of twolegs move about inside the innards of one of the monsters - the surviving one. He looks to Falconheart and Raccoonstripe for answers, but both seem to be just as much at a loss. Thundegleam provides kindling to Wrathpaw's paranoid fire, and the young boy immediately presses against @WILDHEART , suddenly no longer wanting to know the answer.

His eyes linger for a moment on Stormywing. He thinks about Smokepaw's insulting tone when referencing her past, and seeing her ferocity against the unknown beasts has him wondering just how familiar the older warrior is to the creatures. Pawing at the ground, Wrathpaw wonders if whatever horrors exist within the Monsters could somehow be passed on to those who have entered their bellies. If all kitty-pets are secretly full of that acrid scent and...and... facilitated cannibalism? The theory is a pretty wild one, but Wrathpaw considers asking Smokepaw and Darkpaw about it later.
Still, he makes sure to keep his distance from Stormywing, instead training his eyes back on his mentor.




  • GENERAL:
    ā™” Wrathkit
    ā™” DMABā€” He/Him
    ā™” 6 moons ā€” Ages 1 moon every month real-time
    ā™” Brother to Lovelight, Joywing, Giggle-
    ā™” Thunderclan ā€” Kit
    ā™” Mentored by Wildheart




    COMBAT:
    ā™”Physically easy | mentally easy
    ā™” Attack in bold #4a59ff
    injuries: None currently
 
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"The twolegs are unusual creatures, as is their monsters. And the way they can enter the bellies of the monsters so easily reminds me of parasites entering a body. Like maggots." Wildheart found himself narrowing his eyes with hatred as he watched the scene before them as the deceased monster was hauled onto the other with such ease that it left him awestruck by the level of strength that one possessed. No wonder they were capable of felling deer like they were nothing.

Feeling his apprentice pressing into him, the calico tom aimed to lick over one of Wrathpaw's ears in a bid to soothe his fears. "Always remember that the thunderpath is no place for us. This is a place that you must fear." He couldn't drum the message home harder than that. He certainly wouldn't allow his young ward to become complacent around such a dangerous place.