DON'T WAKE ME ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ MATERIAL GATHERING [EVENT]


⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ The cold has come early, and it seems that Swansong's preparations were more necessary than she thought. Her own nest has already been freshened up, along with her youngest brother's... And Ashenfall has been given special treatment so that his kittens have will have the kindest first leafbare they can.

Still, not everyone is as diligent as they are. Some cats do not see the meaning in such comfort, chocking it up to the warrior's general sleepiness. They swish their tail slowly as they walk, casting a glance to the small group they've gathered. "A well-made bed... Can be just as important as prey, in the coldest months..." Swansong begins without prelude, gentle voice reverberating through the chilly air. She speaks with the cadence of a teacher, extra attention given to the apprentices of the group - the ones who do not yet know cold. "It would not do to get frostbite, after all... Not in our own camp, at least." The cost of death's season is inevitable, but a safe home can make it more bearable, at least.

She turns back, stopping once she's found her favorite spot. There's a trick to this, after all. "Now, hm... If you look in the nettles - ah, here...!" Tired eyes light up as a tapered muzzle leans carefully into the tangle of thorns. She grasps a dark feather between her teeth, pulls it carefully out. It is not quite as soft as she would like, but it will have to do.

Turning back, she lets the feather fall from her mouth and pins it with a paw. "Feathers... They often get snagged upon them. Though, ah, any sort of bedding will do... We need all that we can find," they instruct softly. They will not have long to search, before the moss and ferns turn brittle and wilted. Best to do what they can now.

  • ROLL: 14 (feather)
    POINTS: 2

    optional tags for @Snowlark. & @POPPYGLOW but no need to wait! this is open to anyone above 6 moons <3
  • 81294824_mjXd5ejx6RrZPyn.png
  • SWANSONG she / they, warrior of shadowclan, eighteen moons.
    a pale, silky-furred cream tabby with droopy blue eyes.
    dreamy and detached, known for her perpetual sleepiness.
    halfshade x smogstar, littermate to applejaw, garlicheart, & ashenfall.
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
 
Agatepaw wanted to be useful, and if her nest was cold, then she assumed it was probably worse for the elders and queens and kits. She looked at Swansong as the warrior explained what to look for, and then nodded.

Gold and green stare at the entangled thorns, searching for anything usable like the feather. She was almost frightened of getting close - she didn't want to get a thorn stuck in her face or paws, after all. She'd rather find nothing than have to take a trip to the medicine cat's den.

After careful consideration, Agatepaw huffed. "I can't find anything else over here. Maybe my eyes aren't as good as they can be, but we might wanna try a different spot…"

// rolled a 1... 0 points </3​

"Speech"

STEP FROM THE DARK TO THE LIGHT
 

Gigglepaw had known the cold, if briefly, having been born in the final stretch of Leafbare moons ago. She knew not how it crept in like a stranger and gripped her Clanmates in the night with its frost, though she was quickly learning what that was like. She was determined to show that she could provide for ShadowClan in any way possible, which was why she'd stretched herself out and insisted on going on resource-gathering patrols. With Swansong, they were looking for bedding materials, and Gigglepaw couldn't agree more - her own nest had become stiff and uncomfortable, so even with the knowledge that the nursery and elders would get first dibs on any materials, Gigglepaw was happy to help out.

Watching carefully as Swangsong explains where to look for materials, Gigglepaw is swift to take off in the direction opposite Agatepaw, nose sniffing at what remaining bushes there were as she sought out something good to bring home. It wasn't long before Gigglepaw stuck her nose into a bush and gasped, grinning as she tugged out what she'd found and brought them faithfully back to the rest of the patrol.

"These'll do good, right? They're, like, super soft!" Gigglepaw said as she laid the down feathers at Swansong's paws, looking up to the she-cat for her approval. "I bet Ashenfall's kits'll really stay warm with 'em, right?"

 
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Poppyglow's nest was well-maintained, by courtesy of Swansong in all their infinite care and wisdom regarding the art and intricacy of a comfortable place of rest. They hum along as Swansong gives the small patrol the needed lecture, chiming in to emphasize the importance of their task, "We will spend half of our lives sleeping... Curating a safe place to rest is indispensable to maintaining our collective health."

The small red cat looks skyward, observing the grey-painted expanse of the world above them. A pine needle, tugged loose by a stiff breeze that crawls through the marsh, floats circling through the air for a long moment, then two, before finding another perch for itself lying on another branch below. Perhaps in its short, stiffened life as a needle it had dreamt of a moment spent horizontally upon the branch.

Poppyglow would not be the one to disturb it.

They would dig their claws into another tree trunk, climbing lightly up onto the lower branches of the tree and searching dutifully for some feathers put to rest. Fate would find a kindness in its heart today, it would take only a few more wind-rustles for them to find them, molted down tucked huddling in a crevice between the branch and trunk. She took the pale feathers with a gentle grasp and returned down to the frost-solid floor with soft paws.

They added their find to the small-yet-impressive pile gathered so far, purring in harmony with the cheerful tones of Gigglepaw, "Indeed..! Comfortable kittens make a fortunate clan..." To Agatepaw they offer a comforting blink, "A bird will lose its feathers tomorrow just as they did today, do not fret..."

  • OOC: MATERIAL ROLL: 18 !!
  • poppykit - poppypaw poppyglow
    — agender they/she. 16mo warrior of shadowclan
    — padding after swansong. friend to all.
    — a small, fluffy white and dark red tabby cat with pale, wraithlike blue eyes and a scar across their face
    — smells like mushrooms, dust, and foggy night air
    — "speech", thoughts, attack, 'poppypaw'
    — penned by eezy
 
  • Love
Reactions: Swansong

There was a fleeting world in which the hoarder's nest could be considered well-insulated, with some of her large collection providing measures of warmth in otherwise bitter months, but plenty of the collection was cold to the touch too. It was almost a game, searching for new things for her nest and others - at the very least, if she treated it less seriously than it actually was, it still gave her a fleeting sense of joy finding new things within the territory. Brushing back the bramble, the emerald-eyed tabby found herself momentarily distracted by her daughter's discovery, her lips licking as she settled her attention on the bundle of soft feathers.

She wanted them. Ashenfall's kits needed them. Even as a purr pierced her throat in appreciation of Gigglepaw's find, she felt empty without at least a touch of something that was not hers. Forcing her gaze away, Ferndance looked back to where she'd left off. "Look..." she mewed, eyes wide with childish wonder. Her head reached past the withering bushes, plucking a bracken leaf from its hiding place. "I found me."

[ rolled a 12 ; earned 2 points ]

 

Material hunting was a necessary toil in the grips of leafbare- she just thought hey had more time before they had to get to this point. Scalejaw's eyes blinked gently at Swansong, who was doing a superb job at leading (and instructing any apprentices on what to do.) Scalejaw had to give it to her. Scalejaw's own nest wasn't without insulation, of course, but she had more fur then others. (A fact she is silently grateful and proud for.)

She splits from the group moments later. Here in the territory, evergreens would be dropping needles all year long- but with the cold snap, it seemed they were having issues keeping enough on. She drags a bunch into a pile, carefully scooping it up with a larger leaf. Scalejaw pads back, settling her things down not too far from Ferndance. "Well done, the lot of you." She compliments- especially to those that found more valuable resources with a blink of her eyes- and nodded with Poppyglow towards Agatepaw.

"I've found pine needles. They will be a good base." She says, before lowering her head to collect her pile in order to head back to camp with them.
  • "speech"
    // rolled an 8!
  • SCALEJAW 🌧 she/her, lead warrior of shadowclan, sixty-six moons.
    A SH black/LH blue smoke chimera with glowering orange eyes, tufts of fur that make her look dragon-akin, and scars that she wears with pride. motherly and stern attitude, with a warm streak for clanmates and a cruel streak for enemies.
    mentoring no one
    padding after no one / / mother to bonerattle, nightwhisper, and shadefall
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 
The procession of paws that had gone out material hunting was not a small one, but Shalestorm tagged along regardless. There was no such thing as too many paws when prepping for an early leaf-bare - a leaf-bare so early it was already here. Feathers and needles were found, and Shalestorm cannot help the way she giggles at the way Ferndance finds a patch of ferns and claims them to be her. It's funny, as are most things that leave the older warrior's mouth, and humor is a good thing to have.

For her part, Shalestorm wanders in a slightly offset direction than her peers, looking low and high for anything that might be useful. It's not as good, and will likely need to be replaced sooner than the feathers that were found, but Shale does stumble upon a patch of moss that she carefully tears away to carry in her jaws.

"Got shome mosh!" She cheers, voice muffled around the bundle firmly held in her maw.



  • ooc - roll 8 (moss, 1 point)

  • #e36f90

  • (img) Shalestorm * she/her* 27 moons
    blue point/blue chimera w/ low white; blue eyes
    Peaceful & healing powerplay allowed || underline for attack
    penned by Neptune. || Neptune on disc, dm me for plots
 
His jaws split open as he lets free a yawn while slowly trailing behind his clanmates. He's tired and absolutely cold. His ears flick and swivel towards cats chattering away like busy - bodies, as the lanky tom tries not to drift off into dreamland. Head tilted ever so slightly at the voice of Ferndance, discovering a patch of ferns and claims to be her. Huh. He lets out a snort at Ferndance's words, it was funny.

The patrol splints off in their own ways, carefully looking for materials- he couldn't agree more to tag along. Batchaser's own nest has become stiff and uncomfortable from the colder weather, it was quite... annoying. He takes a random direction away from the patrol, letting his leather nose sniff at random bushes. Large ears perk up, hidden tired eyes light up as he starts tugging at the ferns clumped together. He brings his clump of ferns back faithfully to the rest of the patrol. "Found these ferns." He said from around the clump of plants in his jaws.
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  • ooc. rolled a 14 (success)
    POINTS: 2
  • temp batchaser ref.
    a51d3bbadff7c33a490f4c776b1800f90c70e646.pnj
  • ( THAT'S ONE ENEMY DOWN! ) ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ BATCHASER.shadowclan warrior.
    ― CISMALE ; HE / HIM ; CURRENTLY 36 MOONS OLD & AGES EVERY 10TH.
    pansexual / not actively looking — mentoring none.
    a tall shorthaired curly black smoke bicolor with gold/green heterochromia.
    thoughts ; "Speech, 7077A1" ; attacks only
    may powerplay minor harm ╱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
    smells like rain-soaked pavement, mist & sweet leaf rot
    — all opinions are ic

    biography / @ on discord for plots
    — penned by calzone
 
⚛︎₊˚‧ It was no secret that Amberhaze had not been coping well with the sudden changing of seasons, the clan ill prepared for the grip of Leafbare which had granted them no mercy when it came to laying waste to the forest and all the clans who called it home. They were scrambling now, desperate like wounded prey in open an open field where all forms of danger was welcome to claim it as their prize. He had done what he could when he could in the form of prematurely stockpiling materials and prey long since preserved in any manner he deemed suitable- and safe- but it was not enough, for their clan was ever expanding and the chill in the air only worsened as each day came and went. It concerned him, no- scared him- that they may not survive the coming moons. Obviously he would jump at the opportunity to pitch in if it meant his and his clanmates survival, hence his paws falling into step with a rather hefty patrol in an attempt to scrape up whatever suitable nesting materials they could.

After being given instructions, the group would split in different directions, Amberhaze taking his own personalized route some ways away from the crowd. His expedition was looking bleak, admittedly- there was little to be seen but a blanket of growing powder that promised to wipe out all manner of life at a rapid pace, and ice had already begun to latch onto the pine tree's branches overhead. Pine trees. The ebony tom's eyes would suddenly sharpen with his revelation, head craning upwards to observe the looming figure of an evergreen canopy. With his idea cemented in his head, he began to climb, ivory claws providing him with enough traction to pull himself upwards, higher and higher until he was able to settle himself safely onto one of the lower branches. His limbs trembled as he inched forward, though whether it was due to physical effort or the biting cold was debatable.

Nevertheless, he would crane his neck forward and begin to gingerly tear off as many clumps of pine needles as he could, carefully positioning them at an angle inside his tender jaws to ensure they would not cut the pink flesh of his gums. Satisfied with his find despite it not being nearly as impressive as one may have hoped, he would slide down from the thick trunk, his claws sending chips of newly petrifying wood flying in their wake. As Amberhaze reunited with his patrol, his eyelid twitched and his ears drooped just slightly as he suddenly felt his pelt warm with embarrassment- quite a few of his companions had returned with quite the haul- feathers being the most prized of what they could have brought, and here he was with a mouthful of...well, leaves. He figured he should be grateful, for anything was better than freezing to death in the night due to a poorly insulated nest, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he should have tried harder.
° . ⚠︎ . °
  • ooc: rolled a 6, found pine needles
  • whaddahaell3.png
    AMBERHAZE — HE/HIM ・ 20 MOONS ・ WARRIOR OF SHADOWCLAN ・ PENNED BY SLOANE
    black oriental shorthair. a short but lengthy black cat with a boney build and striking ocher eyes filled with unveiled trepidation.
 
Marblepaw figures she'll be of more use finding bedding materials than she will trying to hunt prey, so she trails after Swansong's patrol. The fawn tabby she-cat's brain is finely-tuned to seek herbs, though she worries the early leafbare cold has begun to wither what was so easily gathered before. She wishes Starlingheart had come with her; truthfully, she feels out of her element here amidst the warriors.

They harvest in bulk — pine needles, moss, ferns, and feathers — but everywhere she looks, she comes up short. Frustration begins to prickle her paws. Even the clumps of pine she inspects are brittle and spiky, not worth the tree they're growing on.

To Agatepaw, she offers a smile. "Don't worry," she mews determinedly. "We'll just have to keep looking, that's all!"

  • ooc: rolled a 4; finds nothing suitable (0 points)
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  • Marblekit . Marblepaw, she/they w/ feminine and non-gendered terms.
    — "speech", thoughts, attack
    — 10 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.

 
Leechpaw's paws scrape softly against the frozen ground as it darts through the underbrush, eyes wide with curiosity. The air is sharp, biting into its skin, but the cold doesn't seem to bother it. The chill only sharpens its senses, making it feel alive and awake. With every flicker of motion in the trees or rustling of leaves, it wonders what it might find. The thought of gathering materials for bedding fills its mind, the strange excitement of scavenging and discovery making it forget about the discomfort in its joints for a while. It pads through the dense tangle of brambles, looking for something useful. Its eyes catch sight of the faintest flutter of movement—something black and shiny among the undergrowth. At first, it thinks it's nothing but a shadow, but as it moves closer, the sight sharpens. Crow feathers.

Leechpaw's heart skips a beat as it crouches, tail flicking with excitement. It leans forward slowly, careful not to disturb the fragile feathers. The crow feathers are scattered across the ground, their dark tips shining in the dim light, and there's something almost magical about the way they rest on the leaves. It takes a deep breath, feeling the cold air fill its chest as it reaches out with a paw to nudge one of the feathers. The touch is gentle, testing, as if unsure it should disturb the perfect little cluster it's found.

The feathers are a little stiff from the cold, not as soft as they might be in warmer weather, but that doesn't bother it. They're softer than other materials, at least. It carefully picks up the longest feather with its mouth, rolling the other feathers around with its paws. The black plumage shines in the dull light of leafbare, the edges frayed in places but still beautiful. It's exactly the kind of material that would work perfectly for bedding. It's lightweight but sturdy, just like the twigs and moss it's used before, and with these crow feathers, it feels like it has discovered a new treasure. It gathers the feathers carefully, making sure not to crush them under its weight. The feeling of each individual feather against its paws, the weight of the soft blackness, fills it with an odd sense of pride.

[ rolled a 14 ]
@THRASHERTHROAT mentor tag!​
 

Has leaf-bare always been... this early? This... cold? The brown tabby finds himself shivering as he splits off from his fellow material-gatherers, his mind delving back into his memories for a semblance of familiarity in the newfound frost. With short fur, he supposes the cold moons have always been a nuisance when it comes to staying warm, but this... feels different, doesn't it?

Despite not having strayed too far, Ribbitleap finds himself alone in the direction he set off toward: whether for better or worse, he isn't certain, especially when he finds himself struggling to find anything of use. He supposes he could bring a rock or two back, but then what? It wouldn't keep their nests all that warm, would it?

With a defeated sigh, he lifts his head. " Nothing over here either! " the warrior calls back to the patrol.
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// rolled a 5 :/ +0 points
 
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