fought for devil .. carrionplace patrol

[S A B L E T U F T]

can we leave it behind? — It is with utmost certainty that Sabletuft would believe absolutely none of his compatriot's within the patrol wanted to be here. Or at least, not in the presence of one another. When each name slipped between Smogmaw's teeth he waited for it to be a joke of some sort. Himself paired with Loampelt, after just ridding him of his apprenticeship. Then alongside Rosemire, who had to complain with every pawstep lest he implode from keeping it to himself.

Whatever, whatever, he does his best not to let them get underneath his pelt. His jaws may as well have been melded shut with how silent he was. He stalked through the brush of brambles and sage, keeping himself ahead of the pair so not to be trapped or lured into any sort of conversation.

The offensive odors of carrionplace greet the patrol, and Sabletuft does his best not to breathe through his nose more than necessary. The westside of ShadowClan's territory was typically a side he avoided as much as possible. Only ever finding himself in the landfill when ordered like this occasion. Not even the winter drove him desperate enough to willingly enter. He would rather try his paws on the moors.

"A source of loud noises, likely from some sort of twoleg mess." The report was a simple one, though he was still carefully on edge. Firstly noticing the increased activity of rats scurrying about. Nasty little paw-biters.

"Careful, there's a large number of them. More than usual." He warned the patrol as he continued to ascend a junkpile for a better view over the landfill. Higher ground might be just what they need to find the source of their concern.

@rosemire @loampelt @Wheatpaw ! — tags​

 

[loampelt]

Loampelt had considered the ramifications he may face for not attending an assigned patrol. Some part of him scoffed at the notion — it wasn't as if there was anyone over his head now that he was a warrior. But the thought hadn't been true. Smogmaw was over his head, and Chilledstar was over his head, and even Starlingheart was over his head. He had his questions about Magpiepaw, however the point remained that the freedom that Loampelt assumed warriorhood would come with was truthfully nothing more than a slightly less terrible warriorhood.

The biggest difference was that the cats over his head were not completely terrible. Loampelt would rather be shadowed by a kite than an owl, but was it so much to not want either?

"Tuh-tuh-twolegs in the Carrionplace," Loampelt rolls his eyes, "Next yuh-yuh-you might t-tuh-tell me you found eh-eh-eggs in a nest."

To mark his point, Loampelt smacks a piece of brightly colored metal detritus with his paw hard enough that it skitters across the ground and smacks into something equally metal and detritus-y sounding. To Loampelt's ears, it sounded suspiciously and exactly like: Lets leave the rats and the twoleg garbage to the Rats-and-Twoleg-Garbageplace. To anyone else it would have sounded more like a hollow clank, but the sentiment could be easily understood all the same in Loampelt's petulant tilt.

"Surprised Sabletuft eh-eh-is worried about the rats. Thought they wuh-were his kin," Not said to Sabletuft, but spoken while looking directly at them. ​

tags ∘ shadowclan warrior ∘ solid black with hazel eyes ∘ curled front foot ∘ 14 moons​

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[Wheattail]

Wheatpaw was never one who was particularly bothered about where she placed her paws, so the frantic scanning of the forest of filth before her was a new sensation indeed. It seemed every step risked ruining a pristine pelt with the residue of whatever rotten thing the rodents happened to be feasting on. “Oh, this is awful” The moggy muttered.

Wheatpaw pranced back and forth between piles of rat prey, disgusted senses struggling to remain calm and dignified. A small shriek sounded from the (usually regal) cat as she found refuge on top of some rickety and rusted metal box. “Once I dreamed of these eyes seeing everything the world had to offer. Now, I realize there are some views best left to the imagination.” The wanderer huffed as she leapt down, trying to retain her composure as she caught up with the patrol. Perhaps joining Shadowclan was a mistake?

Amber eyes narrowed to slits, the object of her annoyance sitting at the end of her gaze. This was all Smogmaw’s fault, but he wasn’t here, so Sabletuft would have to act as a replacement.

“I heard Sabletuft’s name was almost Sablesqueak, since he sounds like a rat” She joined in, ostensibly saying it to Loampelt, but intentionally loud enough for her unfortunate victim to hear. In the back of her mind, though, Wheatpaw knew this was undeserved. She hardly knew Sabletuft after all, but she was a child who wanted to vent her anger and annoyance as children did. There would be time for regret and unfulfilled apologies later.​

 

[S A B L E T U F T]

can we leave it behind? — Whatever snide remarks Loampelt might have had for him go both unanswered and ignored, making no action in regards to have even heard the tom. Truthfully, Sabletuft's distance between them as he had climbed the junkpile made it a bit hard to hear anything than just voices, their exact words unclear.

The wind was stronger at the top, but he only needed his eyes and nose for this. His sights scanned over the rows of rubble and scattered garbage, some mounds even higher than the one he stood on now. In some areas he spotted clusters of rats digging about for shelter or fighting over food- he scoffed. Not much unlike the Clans, he thought. What really grabbed his attention, rats aside, was the new appearance of these bright yellow monsters strewn about. They appeared to be sleeping for now, but these had big hanging jowls with exposed teeth. His maw tugged down in a scowl.

I heard Sabletuft’s name was almost Sablesqueak, since he sounds like a rat.

Burning amber snapped to look below at Wheatpaw, the tension in his jaw snapping teeth together. "Wonderful news, Wheatpaw. You're first to clean out the ticks on Heavy Branch when we get back." His tone was upbeat as he delivered her sentence before looking back toward the strange monsters once again. He assessed them, as much as he could while they were inactive, preparing his report to Smogmaw and Chilledstar already.

The black-and-white tom began to descend the junkpile, shaking his pelt of any stray debris caught in his fur.

"I saw some strange monsters scattered around. We're gonna get close enough to see how far they've been going, make sure they aren't planning to make their way into the marsh." Sabletuft directed. Expectant for them to follow, he continued to pursue further into Carrionplace. — tags​

 

[loampelt]

Loampelt breaks into a tittering laughter, as delighted by Wheatpaw joining him as he is by her punishment. Loampelt himself goes unpunished — unnoticed or ignored? — and he clicks an eclectic rhythm with his tongue as he bounds to meet Sabletuft's side. Strange monsters, Sabletuft had said. A lot of information about a thing can be gathered by the tracks it leaves behind; Loampelt has to wonder how many would-be predators had assumed him an easy meal from the limp evident in his mud-smeared prints.

"So, wuh-wuh-we'll just need t-tuh-to see which direction they uh-uh-are facing and if they muh-mmmmm-move in a straight luh-line," Loampelt surmises. It should be easy enough. This didn't feel like a task that would warrant an entire patrol. Maybe Smogmaw wanted to make sure that Sabletuft didn't get eaten by rats or — Loampelt shoots Wheatpaw a knowing look — defect back to his more rodentine kin.

The thought trails to a stop when Loampelt sees the monsters for himself. Gargantuan, with interlocking teeth and dandelion-yellow pelts, "You don't think the-the-they'll wake up, do yuh-yuh-you?" ​

tags ∘ shadowclan warrior ∘ solid black with hazel eyes ∘ curled front foot ∘ 14 moons​

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