DO WHAT WE MUST TO GET BY — meeting 01/20

[PITCHSTAR]

the sun dips beneath the horizon as pitchstar emerges from his den and takes place at the base of the clanrock- too weak to ascend it, with injuries that would protest if he dared to try. he isn't falling flat on his face for all to see.

"gather for a meeting!" his hoarse voice is clipped, narrowed eyes daring anyone to speak out against his position on the ground. shadowclan is being pushed to their limits, and pitchstar feels the strain of tension pulling his nerves taut. he'd thought the carrionplace would be a last resort… but there is another option, across the thunderpath. riskier still, perhaps more dangerous than the rats.

but what other choice does he have? watching his clan starve to extinction isn't an option, and he would chew his own tongue off before he groveled at sootstar's paws for help.

"from now on, the carrionplace is off limits. anyone caught beyond the silver mesh, especially young apprentices, will be punished. but we have to eat…" pitchstar trails off for a heartbeat, glowering at his bandaged legs. fucking rodents. "i want patrols sent to the edges of thunderclan's territory… the oak forest must have more prey than this hellhole, even in leaf-bare." desperation clings to every inch of his hollow frame. whatever it takes to feed his clan… he would do it.​

 

[Starlingheart]

it is in Starlinghearts opinion the right choice to ban cats from entering the carrion place. Just look at what it had already taken from them. Nothing good came from beyond the silver mesh fences and the piles of twoleg rubbish, she herself had proven it long ago when she had first heard whisperings of how harsh leaf bare was going to be. She had thought herself brave, she had thought herself a hero. Now she sees how foolish that had been and she nods along to her brothers words.

She is worried about him, even though she had done her best to treat the wounds with marigold, to wrap them tightly in cobwebs, she still feels as if something is wrong. She watches him with guarded green eyes as he speaks from the ground, not addressing his clan from the usual perch.

She is so busy assessing his current physical state she almost doesn’t hear it. “i want patrols sent to the edges of thunderclan's territory…” he says and she flicks her ears back in surprise. What other choice did they have though? She is uncertain. Pitch was doing whatever he thought was necessary and no matter what she would have his back. If stealing from Thunder Clan was what would keep them alive she would not say a word. She just hopes the stars do not frown upon Shadow Clan for this choice. Though surely they would not want them all to starve to death, right?

"M-maaayy m-m-may the the st-stars gu-gu-guide your p-paws and l-l-li-liiight yuh-you’re puh-puh-path, brother" she prays quietly, almost to herself.
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[Halfshade]

Her rat bites had mostly gone away, but the scar on her nose from the leader himself was still very much there and looking as though it had no intentions of fading away like the rest of the wounds she'd sustained in the madness of that last patrol. Halfshade would be more upset over it if it had taken from her looks, but it was such a small thing and had a bit of character to it that wasn't too distracting. She'd let Pitchstar live, for now, but he would not be given any pardon for a second offense. The torbie wanders over, carefully lifting her paws and tail to not scrape the ground as the melting snow had turned their camp into a hell of puddles and muck and she'd already groomed that day, wasn't looking to make multiple baths within the same set of the sun a thing if she could help it. With a genuine smile of greeting to Starlingheart, hearing the small medicine cat muttering something but not catching a single word, she lifts her head to the rosette tom to take in his words with a silent wrinkle of her nose.
Well, she wouldn't argue against not going back to the carrionplace, dreadful nightmare that was, but to rob another clan? Hm, well. ThunderClan had a much larger territory than them anyways, they'd probably not notice some prey missing here or there; frankly she was starving on the best days so not a word of complaint would rise up from the queen at the proclaimation.
"Why Pitchstar, that's a lovely idea~" Did he come up with it all by his little self? Darling disaster of a man, at least he was predictable.

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[GECKOSCREECH]

geckoscreech emerges from beneath the bramble bush when pitchstar's grating voice reverberates across the camp calling for a meeting where instead of sitting ontop of the clanrock he is sat at the base, bandaged and undernourished.

the woman does not stray far from the den, taking her seat furthest from the crowd as she listens to the latest annoucements that are quick to perk ears. it was expected for the carrionplace to become barred from the public, according to the group that had went those rats were far more aggressive then they thought. what comes after is a little more brow raising, patrols are to be sent onto the outerskirts of thunderclan and for once geckoscreech finds herself approving her leader's choice.
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[ BITTERNESS IS LIKE CANCER; IT EATS UPON THE HOST.]​

 

[FLICKERFIRE]

Pitchstar calls for a meeting, though he sounds instances from death. His voice is dry, strained. He resembles a mad skeleton wearing spotted fur as he addresses them from his perch. He tells them to steer clear from the Carrionplace, and the tortoiseshell's umber eyes narrow. "And just what are we s'posed t'eat, besides each other?"

Her own bones feel brittle, her formerly plush dark and gold coat sparse and patchy. Hunger has hollowed her abdomen, her face, as it has her Clanmates'. The rats may be biting back, but at least it was a glimmer of hope, a promise of half of a mouthful of meat. Without it... Flickerfire's eyes darken with despair.

But Pitchstar isn't done. Her bad feelings deepen, sinking through her body. "I want patrols sent to the edge of ThunderClan's territory... the oak forest must have more prey than this hellhole, even in leaf-bare."

ThunderClan. He wants them to raid ThunderClan. Flickerfire's pelt prickles at the thought of her savage Clanmate breaching Emberstar's territory, threatening her to her face with dark, starved eyes and yellowed teeth.

"How d'we know that's gonna work? They had a worse fire than we did. For all we know, they're starving as bad as we are." She can't help but speak up -- but even as she does, she feels her protests are fruitless. Her Clanmates are looking at Pitchstar as though he's said the first intelligent thing in moons, and had she been in a different position, she might have agreed with them.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[ROOSTERSTRUT]

The orange tabby tom gathered quietly for the meeting, his fur looking slightly unkempt and his stomach feeling hollow and barren. It didn't seem as if there would ever be any good news for the foreseeable future. The Carrionplace patrol had fallen through and ShadowClan seemed to have limited options... at least until now.

Many cats were already murmuring and nodding in agreement along with Pitchstar's proposal, while the young warrior frowned uneasily with widened eyes. ThunderClan hadn't the most positive reputation with ShadowClan on account of the situation with Bonejaw, but... that had been the medicine cats' fight, not the entire clan's. ThunderClan had families to feed, too. Would stealing from them really make things right?

WindClan didn't seem to have much luck with stealing from SkyClan. Rooster thinks to himself, recalling the announcements on the night of the previous gathering. What if ThunderClan spotted their patrols and fought them, battering them and leaving them in an even worse state than before?

Then again, the clan closest to an ally at the moment was having troubles of their own and likely couldn't spare the little resources that they had. It seemed that everyone was suffering for one reason or another, so the chances of another clan lending a paw to help were very slim. As much as Roosterstrut didn't want to admit it, Pitchstar was right — they had to eat. The recent incident with a feral, hungry Betonyfrost only proved that the clan couldn't go on much longer like this.

Flickerfire is the only cat to speak out thus far and, while he silently agrees with the she-cat, he is not as confrontational. He doesn't wish for more conflict among his clanmates, not when things were bad enough.

With a bated sigh, Roosterstrut says nothing, avoiding meeting the leader's copper stare. His gut stirred anxiously; something bad would come of this...​

— * ✰. ooc information recent events * ✰. —

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  ✰ ROOSTERSTRUT
  —— amab, uses he/him pronouns. sixteen moons old. warrior of shadowclan.
  —— laid-back young adult who utilizes humor and fun in order to distract from serious matters. he is a decent warrior, though he hesitates to take risks.
  —— link to tags. @ on discord for plots.
  
  roosterstrut is a vibrant orange tabby tom with pale green eyes. he stands at a height ever so slightly above the average. his fur is long and whispy and his tail is especially reminiscent of a rooster's. he sports a signature, goofy smirk and a mischievous glint in his eye.
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[Tornadopaw]

If you don't like me, that's your problem

Quietly Tornadopaw appears from a failed hunting session, tired yellow eyes brushing over the slow forming group gathering around Pitchstar. Realizing a meeting was taking place, the curly furred girl sighs softly as she makes her way over. Even with her headstrong determination and unwavering work ethic she was finding it harder and harder to manage her chores and other duties with no fuel to keep the fire going. The brutish femme takes a seat, sitting heavy as she trains her gaze upon the battered leader himself. He proposes the idea of hunting in thunderclan's domain and while it could warrant more food in their bellies the consequences of getting caught would be dire. Her tail twitched back and forth thoughtfully, remembering just how friendly Burnpaw was during the gathering. Through casual conversation he'd helped to quell some of her first gathering jitters. To repay that kindness with theft bothered her. But after so long without a proper meal she was willing to take the risk despite how wrong it felt. ​

When I let it bother me, that's my problem​

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[smogstar]

Smeared across his mug is the ugliest, most foul of smiles. Yellowed teeth and reddened gums are put on full view whilst the corners of his maw warp upwards in an almost unnatural manner. This is it, he reckons, this is really it. ShadowClan's territory has proven to be so hopeless, so far beyond recovery, that the time has come to appropriate the other clans' ecosystems and make off with their food supply. Every droplet of blood shed, every muscle strained, literally everything done for this StarClan-forsaken cesspit up until this point—all of it was done in vain, and that much is official now. Everyone here has lost the plot (including him!) and it's making him giddy with excitement.

"You need to have a little more faith, Flick," remarks Smogmaw, who shifts his rotten focus toward the tortie lead warrior. Scrappy as she was spindly, Flickerfire's objections shouldn't come as a surprise to the tom. But they do, and for quite the particular reason. "Didn'tcha mention something about ThunderClan having the nicest territory?" he goes on, snorting partway through. "Well, now's our chance to pay them a visit."

His gaze departs from the bony she-cat and instead combs over the camp, in search of those who agreed with Pitchstar's stratagem. It's become a rare sight to see so many on the same page as their leader, but it's a welcome one nonetheless. "I can't recall the last time I had shrews- or voles- or whatever the hell they eat over there," the tabby drawls on, primarily to himself.

Interesting turn of events, to say the least, but it's certainly more fun than solving this problem the peaceful way, and asking their allies for assistance.​

 

[Redthroat]

Picking at what little the pile of fresh-kill had to offer, the remnants of a lizard and a now rotting frog with maggots beginning to protrude through the skin, the warrior nearly wretches at the sight. Though his hollow abdomen shrieked with hunger, bile threatening to rise up in his throat and spew from lack of nutrients, he simply knocked the amphibian away from him. He'd soon rather die than to eat such a thing and run the risk of illness. Hell, illness was a near death threat during this time of year for ShadowClan.
Hollow, lifeless eyes of golden sunlight landed upon the rasping voice that called upon his clan. Redthroat moved away from the rotting carcasses with a flick of his white tipped tail, prowling towards the gathering crows with a lowered head. His ribs jutted out from his already lean frame, his skin stretched taut over lean muscle as he walked. It was clear that he along with his clanmates were all suffering from malnutrition, the point of starvation near the horizon if something wasn't done soon.

He places himself beside Smogmaw as Pitchstar was speaking about the Carrion Place being off limits from now on. Redthroat only offers a snort in reply, muttering sweet nothings to himself as his leader continued. With what Pitchstar says next, though, sparks the russet tom's attention immediately. The oak forest, huh? His leader was right. Anything had to be better than this hellhole that they lived in. He grunts in agreement, but some are not so keen to agree. Fierce eyes, near glowing as the sun set behind the horizon, glared over towards Flickerfire. "I doubt their plushy oak forest is worse than this shit hole. I saw a patrol not too long ago, they seem to be fairing a helluva lot better than we are." He shouts over the whispering voices, making sure he's heard loud and clear. "I say we go over there tonight while they're all coddled in their soft little dens and fill our bellies!" The warrior shifts his gaze to Smogmaw as the male snorted, earning a wicked smile from the red tom. "I could easily eat at least 3 of 'em." Redthroat remarks, his claws digging grooves into the soggy ground just thinking about devouring the flesh of prey.
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[ FUCKING HELL ]​

 

[Swiftclaws]

Swiftclaws would listen close to Pitchstar's words from where he sits besides Roosterstrut, their ever so gloomy leader looked better then he had just a few days prior when blood had been gushing from him like a babbling brook. He's able to stand able to keep his voice heightened albeit with clear raggedness to it that threatens to completely ruin all his inflections. He's stalwart if not stubborn for doing so, Swiftclaws has always had respect for the tom but he feels it increase now; he'd been unable to handle the gathering but he pushes himself to do this rather then licking his wounds. It has to be a struggle for him and Swiftclaws isn't blind to the way his legs may wobble under his own weight or the simple fact he couldn't climb his usual perch and that's even more impressive to him, despite the agony of his wounds he still stands before them as their leader as much as his body would allow him to. He's a leader worth following, one not solely given the role through lives alone but through action in his mind. Though his attitude could always need some adjustment, it wouldn't kill the guy to smile more, but in dire times like these well Swiftclaws wouldn't bug him till they all had full bellies and the risk of getting his ears torn off was at very best a minimum rather then a guarantee.

The idea of stealing prey isn't a foreign idea nor is it a bad one. Though their was the risk of Thunderclan retaliating but he favors his chances in a fight with them, it was worth the risk if they caught some juicy prey to keep them going until life returned to the marshes. He licks his lips hungrily, he listens to his clanmates discuss most seem for it and there isn't any major outcry against it, merely criticisms that could be easily swayed. In his mind anyway, his gaze flicks to Flickerfire momentarily then to Redthroat. ❝Yeah, they're not as plump as usual but they're looking wayyyy better then we are that's for certain.❞ he would add, though their was that one shrimpy Thunderclanner in the patrol he'd chatted with. ❝You know we could be stealthy about it too, roll in some mouse dirt or something before crossing the thunderpath so they don't realize it's us at first stealing❞ though far from the smartest cat Swiftclaws was more intelligent then he looked surprisingly.

❝They don't seem like the type to think too hard about anything right they won't even notice, should be easy-peasy!❞ it's not something he entirely believes, he doesn't have much against Thunderclan at all they were pleasant and he'd yet to fight with them. He would do whatever it took though to get prey for his clan, and a little for himself too wouldn't hurt one bit, plus well part of him wouldn't truly mind coming to blows with them he's certain it'd be far more fun then trying to hunt a bunch of mindless rats or sitting in camp freezing his butt off doing nothing.

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( ★ )

 

[PITCHSTAR]

out of all of his warriors, pitchstar does not expect flickerfire to be the one to speak out against his decision. one of his own lead warriors... his tail lashes as he whips his head around to glower at her, skull swimming from the sudden motion. "if you have a better idea, i'd love to hear it," he snaps. the carrionplace had sustained them enough to survive for a short while... but the dangers of going back now are too high for his warriors, who only have one life to spare. the dangers of sneaking onto thunderclan territory under the cover of darkness, while they would be sound asleep in their nests, pale in comparison to the rats of carrionplace.

it's true that the fire had affected thunderclan worse than it had shadowclan, but their neighbors are nowhere near as ragged as his clan judging from glimpses gleamed on border patrols.

"my decision is final. i refuse to allow my clan to wither away while the rest of the forest watches; we will eat, one way or another," pitchstar growls, milky eyes trained on the tortoiseshell she-cat. he doesn't have the time nor energy to argue with her. there's still ceremonies to get through before he could rest...

"now, we have a couple of apprentices in need of new mentors..." shadowclan's suffered so many losses, and newleaf still seems so far away in these bleak moons. he's running out of capable warriors to train the abundance of youth. "tornadopaw, lilacpaw, sharppaw, your mentors taught you well... we mourn the loss of rainshade and nightwillow, but your training must continue if you are to become shadowclan warriors."

"smogmaw, from here on out you will mentor sharppaw. and make sure to keep that tongue of yours in line, or i will hold true to my threats." it doesn't seem to be true, with his skeletal frame cloaked in cobwebs, but the bite has not left his voice yet.

"tigertooth, from here on out you will mentor tornadopaw." pitchstar doesn't add much more to this one, moving quickly on to the last and most important reassignment...

"and halfshade, you will mentor lilacpaw. teach her everything you know, and teach her well." he would only accept the best for his baby sister... halfshade is an exemplary warrior, despite being downright confusing and infuriating at times.

now... on to something more- upbeat, if such a thing could even exist in the swamp. a new warrior, and one mentored by his own deputy. he has no doubt in his mind that she would make a fine addition. "forestpaw, do you pledge your loyalty to shadowclan alone, and swear to protect us, even at the cost of your life?" he waits for her answer, in any form, before he continues. "then i give you your warrior name. forestpaw, from this moment on, you will be known as forestshade. shadowclan honors your bravery and hunting prowess, and we welcome you as a full warrior."

@Tornadopaw @SHARPPAW. @Lilacpaw @FORESTPAW @smogmaw @Tigertooth @Halfshade ​

 

[FORESTSHADE]

Forestpaw squirms near the front of the crowd, biting her lip in excitement. Today is the day. Finally, after six whole moons of training first beneath the clan's founding leader, then under the deputy. Though unseeing, she tips her chin slightly to the sky. Idly, the thought crosses her head...Is Briarstar watching? Told ya I'd make it to this point, you stubborn lady!

Pitchstar first goes into the boring news...Carrionplace is off limits. She refrains from scoffing - she could handle a few rats if she'd been put on one of the patrols there! But the next news is even better...they get to go hunting in the oak forest. The striped molly has never hunted in an oak forest before and oh she bets she'd be great at it. A smirk finds her face, lashing tail betraying her agreement with her leader.

Some new mentors, blah blah blah, come on, get to the good stuff! Me!

And finally, it arrives. Forestpaw gets to her paws, quickly striding to the front and standing firm, alone. The only warrior to be named at this meeting and it seems fitting because no other apprentice could possibly be as great as to stand beside her on this day. She holds her head and tail high with pride before announcing, "I do." She listens closely to the name that falls from Pitchstar's lips.

Forestshade...for her bravery and hunting prowess.

The brand new warrior is beaming. "Thank you!" She blurts out, caught in a rare moment of childish excitement. Grin stretched wide, she turns and makes a beeline for Chilledgaze, oddly enough the first cat she wants to see.​

 

[Ratshadow]

CALLED TO DEVIL AND THE DEVIL DID COME ✧​

The small dark figure sits within the shadows. Her chocolate hues watching the meeting from afar. She was hungry like the rest of them. But their talk of stealing prey was sparking embers of anger in her belly. Did they have no pride? Ratshadow knew they needed to fill their bellies one way but walking all over Thunderclan didn’t feel like it was the right way. Stars have mercy on them, they are young and mouse-brained.

She gets up on her paws to approach the meeting closer. Pitchstar seemed determined to feed the clan. That was good. Though, he gave up on the carrionplace to quickly. If they spent time planning and using their most talented hunters, they could surely beat the rats back. Waiting for the problem will do nothing. What if one day those rats try to spread like weeds? Ratshadow sighs. She missed her chance to speak and decided to focus on the new warrior. Perhaps she would get a chance to speak later.

“Forestshade!” ​

 

[Tornadopaw]

If you don't like me, that's your problem

Tornadopaw glances up when she hears Pitchstar call out her name, assigning her to a new mentor. There is a flash of surprise behind those burning yellow eyes. Tigertooth? Why not Dewspider? She'd noticed the tom becoming a little more distant than normal, resulting in her attempting to train herself most days. Did he not want to be her mentor anymore? Did she not work hard enough? Was it because of her kittypet background? There was nothing wrong with Tigertooth, she was sure he was a good warrior. But irritation itched beneath her pelt because she couldn't figure out the reason for being left behind. With brows pulling taunt the curly furred girl grimaced, looking down at her paws. "...Alright." Her tone was clipped, voice barely audible as she stood to her paws and walked past the newly named Forestshade. "Congrats."​

When I let it bother me, that's my problem​

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[SHARPSHADOW]

† He should have seen it coming. Carrionplace, no longer a hunting ground. It's taken a life. (Her life). It only made sense, that it was declared so. And it made sense to be frightened by that, too, didn't it? An alternative– ShadowClan could not live without one. What was left to do, rather than become kittypets? Or to leave all together, like Smogmaw had once suggested. What's left to do? He couldn't possibly think. Couldn't possibly hope to know. Hadn't he lost the only one who would?

The edge of Thunderclan's forest.

Back to their roots, battling for the prey teaming within that rich land once again. Wasn't it just the same? What the senior warriors had said? A war waged over the oak forest; a land that's unforgiving to the cats of the marsh.

They deserved to live, didn't they? Why was ShadowClan doomed to die? Were all their mentors doomed to leave them, eventually? The stars seemed to hate them. Hanging up there, ever omnipotent, but they couldn't pull the teeth of a few rats? Appeared; strange, vague, to a cluster of cats. Constrained ShadowClan to only the most inhospitable of land. Foggy and broiling. ...It's not like they'd be breaking any rules, right? Just on the edge. Wide silver eyes blink to Flickerfire. For a lead warrior, she doesn't seem... enthused. Wasn't food all that she ever thought about?

It's stupid. A stupid question. They didn't know, and they never would, if they never tried... Still, the possibility of going tonight makes her shrink under her pelt. She couldn't, not without practice; someone to instruct. What could she ever do like that? A harrowing look, she lifts her eyes to Pitchstar, frantic. Frenzied, always frenzied.

He should have seen it coming, reassignment. But somehow, he hadn't thought about it. Rainshade had been infinitely more useful. Do they wish Sharppaw had gone, instead of her? He ducks his head, and it swings like a pendulum. Nameless fear, with the name that slips past a rosette jaw. Smogmaw. Staring, blankly; would he come across those eyes, he'd only shrink beneath the presence.

Sharppaw keeps quiet.​