HAVE YOU THANKED YOUR EXECUTIONER TODAY? ✦ HMM...

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She's never loved patrolling the Twolegplace border, not with the way the stretch of pines rolling down to concrete seems to draw dogs and rogues and death like buzzards to a corpse. Ever since Florabreeze's message, she's liked it even less. She should know better, but every time she walks this particular line of trunks, she swears she can feel a blunt worn - copper gaze boring into the back of her neck, making the shaggy fur along her spine bristle wolfishly. Her instinct is to dip her shoulders low, to pull her head close to the ground as if the tufts of fur between her ears might conceal the newly pared - down lines of her face—but that feels like conceding to his unseen figure, and she refuses to do that on principle. Not anymore.

So she unfolds her scarred shoulders into a line and her pale neck high, teeth clicking together as she sets her jaw neat. It had taken a moment, a night's rest, many assurances whispered to herself in the dark, but she had come back to herself eventually after quite a few hours of feeling slightly distant. Close now, she fancies she can feel the brush of each needle beneath her calloused paws, smell the tapestry of scents her patrol forms as they fumble along the border in the dim gloaming of dawn, just before the sun's rise.

A branch cracks, just far enough away to note it's not under the paws of Cloudypaw or Primrose, or any of her other patrolmates. She knows she'd do it regardless, out of worry for her patrol's safety, but it still feels like a surrender when her head swivels that direction. Neck lifted like a startled deer, ears twitching as if a familiar voice might emerge from the pockets of shadow between the pines, she feels cold trickling down her back as much as if someone had dumped slush between her shoulder blades.

" Who's there? " she calls out, and she'd feel slightly silly if it weren't for the fear—because, like it or not, that's what it is—sinking its teeth into her nape. Her fangs grind together, not liking the feeling at all as it winds its way languidly through her veins. She's beginning to really feel paranoid when there's an unmistakable flurry of heavy pawsteps, the rustling sounds of a living creature in motion. In the great swathes of shadow the trees cast, though, it's impossible to see anyone amidst the rows of pines. The forest that always feels so safe, so dependable, suddenly seems ominous in its semi - orderly pattern of trunks, in the heavy dips of shade beneath them. The lack of a visible pelt alone sets her spine to a shiver; only a dark cat's fur would not show up in the shadows.

" This is SkyClan territory, " she says, bringing the edge of a snarl into her voice. Her Clanmates have never known her to be anything but polite to joiners—but today, her voice is bluesteel cold. They surround her, her patrolmates flank her, but how can she explain it to them? How could she dare to involve them in an issue where the fault lies with her alone? She couldn't; she can't. It's probably just some lost kittypet, she reminds herself, get ahold of yourself! So she merely growls, relieved to find her voice has not miraculously reverted to a wavering stammer, " Get out and stay out, please. "
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OOC : Optionally, you can choose to roll for your character to notice details:
1-5: They don't notice anything that stands out.
6-10: There's a strange smell on the wind, an acrid artificial scent that's unmistakably from Twolegplace.
11-15: A broken stick rests some distance away. It's rather stout for its size and must have taken some force for a simple pawstep to break it.
16-20: There's scuffed pawsteps beneath a trunk a few trees away. They're huge, and have six distinct toe - prints instead of four.
 
The moments of the morning that twinkle just before the sun's rise are not often ones where daylight warriors have made themselves prim, proper and present... it's insanely early to be awake, much less to have traveled all the way to SkyClan already but.... Edenberry hates being at home. It's a reminder of its emptiness and the fact that quietness is their fault. So they show up earlier... plod after the familiar, dappled coat of their friend's mother and try to forget.

Doeblaze snakes off ahead, winding her way through the narrow tree-line while they remain distractedly staring at the nearby Twolegplace. It's home, despite their efforts to avoid it, and to that end they are more than comfortable navigating this space in ways the full-time warriors aren't.

Their ears swivel, listening to the ambient sounds of the houses, the crunch of gravel pathways under up-right paws, the slavering sounds of dog-pets being walked around. It's... pretty normal. Something to be grateful for with all the change that encircles them most suffocatingly. Always a confrontation with themself... always a mirror held to face the ugly scars- both inside and out.

Summer-fern eyes trail towards their own paws, contemplating... trying to recalibrate and shift focus onto the task at hand rather than painful reverie when they notice an oddly shaped paw-print impressed upon the ground. The planes of their face pinch in confusion, counting the toes in excess with awe. That.... was more toes than they had.

Abruptly, they remember that they'd been warned about some nefarious goings-on around these pathways... it had been a part of the concern held for them, to know they were so near wanton murder during their 'sickness' and Doeblaze has been out of sight for too long. Hurrying towards the pine-sap scent of their clan-mate, they pause as they pass through the underbrush to see tense shoulders and a firm glower cast upon the molly's face.

"Uh hey.... D'ya see someone? I saw paw-prints back there and they're definitely not from anyone I know," they chirp, creeping to stand a bit closer as a wary glance follows the hardened stare of their patrol-mate.

  • rolled a 17 !
  • -- edenberry / skyclan daylight warrior / any pronouns / 16 moons
    -- mostly white with black pinstripe and green eyes / scarred face and back
    -- color #728c69​
 
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-ˋˏ The muscular torbie takes up the rear of the patrol, torn ears angled alertly upwards as she plods forward, Oakrumble's chin aches and she wishes to pause and scratch at the welts but knows better. Ahead, Doeblaze leads the patrol and her posture is especially stoic, confident some may say but the illusion breaks as a branch snaps and Oakrumble notices the break in the facade at the very same moment.

Oakrumble hurries forward past Edenberry, lips rising to further reveal her yellowing fangs. She pauses beside Doeblaze and stares into the treeline, unable to see what may have caused the branch to snap. All she can see is a stick, which would be the perfect size for a cat even her size to perch upon. It lays splintered beneath a tree, causing Oakrumble's fur to prickle. "W'dya think..." She begins to ask Doeblaze but the words falter as Doeblaze essentially demands for whoever lurks to stay away. Words do not suffice sometimes... Oakrumble lets a harsh and disjointed growl to bubble her maw and their tail begins to lash angrily.

The thought that Doeblaze may be afraid of whatever may be in the shadows could be from the past does not occur to Oakrumble, to her they all have a right to be on edge due to all which has occurred at the border in recent moons. It was not for Oakrumble to lurch forward and deter the stranger and so she can only unsheathe her claws and rumble irritably, prepared for some sort of attack, hopeful that she could let out some pent up anger.


  • rolled a 13!
  • OAKRUMBLE she/her, warrior of skyclan, 56 moons.
    lh chocolate torbie, stout and muscular she-cat with an overbite.
    important relations blah blah idk
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    penned by @ken_Unot, feel free to dm for plots on disc!

 
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Always had this border been the most disgusting of them- it sent Twitchbolt's fur into spines, his eyes narrowing. Even on a small frame, his neck fur flared wolfishly- there was a wariness that stuttered tirelessly from him when there were Twolegs involved. Despite the love they were apparently capable of, he'd witnessed them too many times wrench things from the natural world and twist them. Daisyflight, she'd still be here if not for them ... and that, he would not forgive.

It was the one grudge he would hold.

Mahogany features wrinkled up, half-snarl, half-fearful. It was a stench like he'd never encountered- pungent, acrid. Tendrils of stink wound down his throat, made him sway on his feet a little- like he was being actively poisoned. And maybe he was- who knew what this Twoleg trash had shoved inside of it ...

Pawprints, Edenberry said ... and Oakrumble huffed, dulled agression rolling from her fur. Oliving eyes flicked between the both of them for a few moments, before his attention swivelled fully to Doeblaze. He tried to followher gaze, and quivering eyes landed upon nothing - but he did not dismiss that there was anyone there. The stink was too fresh, too strong, for there to be nothing at all.

"This isn't a fight they can win ... if there is someone t-trying to ambush us." No room for argument laid in Twitchbolt's tone.

/ rolled a 10 !!
penned by pin ✧
 
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Bi-colored ears are pricked, blue eyes shining with a keen alertness and muscles bided with tension. Lionpaw's skills continue to sharpen with every outing, the young tom carrying himself more like a warrior each and each day. Kit-like ignorance seems to be shed from Lionpaw's persona, the once naive and soft-pawed boy now filling into larger paws both physically and mentally. He strides along with the patrol, gaze flicking about as the others seem to pick up on something. Initially, nothing in particular triggers his sense of alarm nor strikes his senses; Lionpaw is momentarily frustrated by this, as he wishes to understand what is happening himself, though he ultimately lets the others take to gathering nearby hints. A stranger is here, and whether they are friendly or not remains to be seen. With all of the rogue attacks occurring as of late, Lionpaw cannot be optimistic.

Concern surges in his chest and the chocolate point torbie retreats back to Doeblaze's side, ears pinning back against his head. Frowning, he scans the area cautiously, limbs tensed as if prepared to launch himself at an opponent. Ivory claws knead the ground anxiously as he anticipates a confrontation—a real one. He swallows, mouth suddenly parched. Lionpaw has never fought a cat but he'd do so for his clanmates. He'd do it for Doeblaze.

  • rolled a 4 + mentor tag @CROWSIGHT
  • 85571681_SLofIqs1ogOtlez.png
    an apprentice of skyclan, lionpaw is eight moons and is mentored by crowsight. he is the son of doeblaze and blazestar. an amalgamation of his parents, lionpaw exhibits splashes of ginger and chocolate tabby patterns against a thick, longhaired cream pelt. 
 
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She'd nearly forgotten Edenberry was here. Pre - dawn is not a time she typically associates with the daylight warriors—it's in the name, after all; she rarely sees their Twolegplace - dwelling warriors out at this hour because of that. Adrenaline reverbates through her veins, tension pooling, cold as hoarfrost, between her shoulders—so when Edenberry comes up from behind her with soft pawsteps and a hesitant question, she whirls around quickly. Too quickly, she thinks, feeling her limbs going uncertain beneath her with a twitching shakiness. She feels distant from herself again, and it's a fumbling battle in the darkness to regain control of herself after the temporary slip.

" Edenberry, " she sighs in greeting, grateful to find her voice is still unwavering. You're being foolish, she chides herself as the chilly fear puddling in her spine begins to dissipate. It's just her mind going wild after Florabreeze's warning—making shadows into ghouls and determined to find old ghosts where there aren't any. She's quite nearly convinced herself that this is just a bout of paranoia when Edenberry's words begin to register. They're definitely not from anyone I know.

" Were they . . . strange? Did they have more toe - prints than there should've been? " she prompts them instantly, fixing them with a green gaze that's suddenly piercing. She shouldn't be letting paranoia lead her astray, and yet . . . something about the inflection of their words had set her hackles rising again. Her patrolmates flock around her, putting together the pieces of the scene, but it does nothing to soothe Doeblaze's ruffled feathers—literally, the wolfish cape of fur she wears drawn up into rumpled spikes. She'd rather she found all this by herself—she can't stand even the idea of immersing her Clanmates in her personal struggles, if this strange shadow is who she thinks it is.

Not who she knows it is. Nothing is certain yet, after all, but things are seeming increasingly damning with each bit of evidence uncovered. Oakrumble calls attention to a splintered stick lying nearby, and Twitchbolt's wrinkled muzzle brings the stink hanging in the air to her own attention. She has no idea how she missed it—stinging and acrid, artifical in the way that Twolegplace - borne smells were. It's not familiar, but that doesn't assuage her suspicions—her own scent has long changed, after all.

" Whoever it is, I think they're most likely long gone, " she hears herself saying in a flat tone. The support of her Clanmates gathered around should ground her, make her feel safe—but instead, it only unsettles her further. For some reason, she can't stand the idea of dragging her Clanmates into all of this—asking them to fix her mistakes when they've already had to do too much for her. So she doesn't voice her suspicions, only meows distantly, " It wouldn't hurt for us to keep an eye out while we're checking the rest of the border, though. "

Something catches her eye—an artifical twinkle, just now catching the light of the barely - there sun. She takes a few steps forward, forcing her limbs to remain steady, and freezes when the object becomes clearer. It's small, blunted on its pointed edge, glittering with the coldness of steel. It's also very, very familiar . . . again, she feels a horrible chill down her back, like a freezing rainstorm has just come down upon them—despite the clarity of the sky above the newborn sun. The presence of her son, braced for the impact of an unseen opponent, compounds the chill—oh StarClan, my kits. She remembers tempests of anger and long periods of frost when she talked to the neighboring tom with the sun - yellow eyes.

Get a hold of yourself! her mind's voice chides harshly, and though she still feels a half - step removed from herself, she swallows thickly and prods the item with one paw. It sits there innocuously, glinting innocently as she clears her throat more harshly than necessary and mrrows, " I do think . . . someone was definitely here, though. Maybe—maybe a lost kittypet? "
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OOC : The strange item is a spike, the type found on cat collars :)
 
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Doeblaze states their name, hopefully, as a happy surprise rather than an annoyance. Her moods are undecipherable more often than not and they'd rather not make Lupinesong's mom mad at them.... She seems on edge... despite the cohort that surrounds and protects her and prompts them for a more detailed explanation of their find.

"Yea... how'd you know?" Their head tilts slightly, over-large ears bending at their ends as the striped cat stares at her. How impressive... could she tell that just by the smell or something? It was no secret that Doeblaze was an excellent tracker... it was not a gift they had. "Extra toes... Struck me as odd." Were there others in the clan with that little feature? They hadn't thought to stare at their clan-mates paws so intently to notice before...

They gaze flicks towards the direction of Twolegplace at the suggestion of a lost kittypet... it's possible but... they'd be disappointed to hear about a kittypet in the neighborhood they hadn't met yet! How many had they pointed in SkyClan's direction already with tales of grandeur and excitement that a Twoleg nest couldn't dream of replicating?

"I guess I could keep an eye out when I head home this sunset.... I'll ask Florabreeze too."

  • -- edenberry / skyclan daylight warrior / any pronouns / 16 moons
    -- mostly white with black pinstripe and green eyes / scarred face and back
    -- color #728c69​