the dark forest HELLLLHOOOOLE [starclanner]

[CLAYFUR]

✦✦ He wanders through mist for what feels like ages, stretching on and on until he's sure that he's just… lost. Hazel eyes glance back in the direction he'd come from, but there's nothing there. StarClan is gone, out of his reach for now, and Clay can do nothing but continue trudging onward. Putting one paw in front of the other, keeping in mind his promise to Clearsight, his promise to his kin. I will return. I have to. I will not leave you without me in death.

The other side of the mist is just as cold as the wall of mist itself, and a shiver crawls its way down Clay's spine as he pushes his way through. Instantly, he's reminded of the chill of snow, the cracking of ice beneath unsteady paws. The silent movements of a rogue. The kiss of teeth against his jugular, ripping, tearing, stealing life. Struck with uncertainty, the tom's head whips around to take in his surroundings—his eyes have yet to adjust to the darkness, so all he sees is shadow, but there's a slight shifting motion in the dark. Other cats, predators… or just the wind. The wind… it's freezing, harsh like a permanent wintry gust. Branches creak with each touch of wind, and—wait, branches? He looks up. Gnarled, twisting limbs, bare of all their leaves, stretch like tendrils of shadow toward one another, caging him in and blocking out parts of the sky. And beyond them, the sky itself…

It's too dark—darker than the blackest night, even. Not a single star shines in its endless span, reaching horizon to horizon without a single pinprick of light. There's no moon, either, and so there's no light in the forest below besides a sickly glow coming from seemingly nowhere. Clay squints, and can barely make out the slight gleam of light against tree bark. The trunks are thick and tall, gnarled just like their branches are, but there's space to move through the space they take up. He presses forward, unsure where he's going, but needing to know more about this place anyway.

He isn't sure how long he walks, but soon enough the sound of moving water reaches his ears, a blessed relief. A river. If he's going to get anywhere in this place, it'll be good to use the river as a landmark—plus, he can wash off all the grime that covers his paws from walking through this wretchedly empty place. After what feels like a period of time both too long and too short (damn, time moves weirdly in this place without the sun's position in the sky to track it) the dry land beneath his paws turns to mud that clings to his paws, attempting to drag him down with each pawstep. It's dark enough to nearly be black, and the smell… it's worse than the marshland. It smells like something crawled into the mud and died, and then was never dug up before the ground solidified around it. Death-scent claws its way into his nostrils, and Clay would clamp a paw down across them if he weren't afraid of getting the horrid-smelling mud splashed across more of his pelt.

He reaches the water at last, wetness lapping at his muddied paws, icy cold and threatening to leech the warmth from his entire body. It's black as raven feathers when he stares into its depths, and moves slowly enough to nearly fool Clay into believing it isn't moving at all. It's like RiverClan's waters, but worse. A poor imitation, a funhouse mirror with a horrific twist. This land is terrible.

A sound from behind him catches his attention—paws over mud, or some other damp substance. Clay's tail flickers as he whirls around, but there's nothing there. Odd. "Somebody out there?" Maybe he shouldn't be so loud in this scary place that might have scary cats lurking around in the shadows, but if there's anyone here StarClan definitely needs to know. Especially if they're unfriendly.





// this is open to any dark forest characters !​

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[Smokefur]

How long as it been since he had appeared here? He wasn't sure. Time was uncountable here, and there hadn't been any other cats that he had discovered since waking up. What he could only assume as moons of solitude hadn't settled well for the young tom. One moment he had been protecting Thunderclan from Flamewhisker and her rebels, and the next moment he had opened his eyes to this forest of darkness. His wounds given to him by Falconheart were still littered across his pelt. He had gotten used to the sting they caused while he walked, but the wound where the other tom had ripped his throat was more bothersome. His pelt was always matted around the old wound, and he didn't bother to try and keep it clean anymore. His once stunning pelt was now dull and unkept, and the voice he had been proud of was deduced to more of a weighted whisper without pain.

The last thing he had expected to stumble upon today was another cat. The warrior halted in his steps, narrowing his eyes in almost disbelief. His walks always accounted to nothing, was this figure real, or just his imagination? Stars glimmered in the figure's pelt, and whoever it was, clearly looked confused. Somebody out there? the figure asks. Smokefur wasn't ready to reveal himself, not yet. Just who was this cat, and why didn't he look like him? Where was his scars, his old, rotten, unhealed wounds? This cat looked like something from Starclan...and even though Smokefur wasn't sure where he was, he knew this wasn't Starclan.

"Who...are...you?" The tom grumbled, his voice strong enough to carry across the clearing as he stepped out of the dark undergrowth. His gleaming yellow eyes gave him away first, before he took another step closer. His tail lashed behind him, and his claws slid out of their sheathes for the first time since his last battle.

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• SMOKEFUR ✩ he/him, warrior of thunderclan, 15 moons
  ⭃ lh blue ticked tabby / blue smoke chimera with yellow eyes. mentored by ravenstrike
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Icey ! ↛ @icefang65 on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

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[SOOTSTAR]

Mocking cackles softly sound in the distance; mocking the two confused cats. The shadow stalks them both as if they were pieces of prey, an impossible sighting in this filthy land she's learned to call home. She's grown a bit too comfortable with the miserable atmosphere and the way time slips right through her paws. This was home.

But this cat the blue tom confronts was no cat of this forest. No, he was a rare treat. She snorts laughter as she appears from the shadows. "Heh-ha! That's a StarClan kitty, flea-brain." She purrs as her face contorts into a twisted grin. "Finally found your way here, huh?! A revolting place, isn't it?" She'd play with her prey before sinking her teeth in. Sootstar would have fun with this one. "Welcome to the Place of No Stars, both of you!" Maybe she'll see horror spark behind both their faces, it was clear new-guy didn't have a single clue where he was. Clayfur had to have some idea… surely…

"The stars in your pelt do not shine as bright here… do they, Clayfur? You've made an awful mistake in coming here." Again, she can't resist laughing in his face, "I hope you've brought everything you needed from StarClan. You're never going back!" Spit flies from her mouth as a laughing fit takes over her body.

Finally, finally! StarClan would begin to suffer the same pain they did!

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

SOOTSTAR . ㅤBIOGRAPHY / TOYHOU.SE
✦ female (she / her) / mate to Weaselclaw
✦ 46 moons old at death
✦ dark forest resident / windclan founder
✦ Pebble Beeze x Soot Claw / dam to Sootspot, Cloudedsky, Moorblossom, Addervenom, Harrierstripe, Bluefrost, Cottonsprig
✦ mentored Firefang & Bluefrost
✦ penned by ava / message av.a on discord for plots!

 

[SPIDERFALL.]

༺ 🕸 ༻ "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes" came another voice, an ember eye frosty and cold while a burning hatred burned through them, the injuries given to him still covered his body, from Cicadarstar to Smokethroat, one of exile and the other from his death. Claws raked through the disgusting floor, Smokefur wondering who it was while Sootstar cackled and explained the situation in full. Clayfur. He was sure the other wouldn't be too pleased to see the one who attempted to make Riverclan fall from the inside out.

A slight malicious grin peered on his lips while he looked down on the other, tail twitching slightly while a low rumbling laugh coaxed in raspiness, "Long time no see, huh?" Other words trembled on his tongue, most specifically the question of, where was his sister, why wasn't she here. Had she also gone to Starclan like the fool who stood in front of him? "Ohh... "Did you come to join us?" any laughter he carried died, his voice chilling and cold while the only good eye he had left bored into the Riverclanner's fur, the way the stars sparkled off him in swirls... disgusted him.

🕷

SpiderfallㅤBIOGRAPHYㅤ/ㅤTOYHOU.SE
✦ㅤMale (pro / nouns)ㅤ/ㅤHetrosexual, Not Looking (dead)
✦ㅤ24 moons oldㅤ/ㅤStatic
✦ㅤWarrior of Riverclan for 9 moons
✦ㅤNPC x NPCㅤ/ㅤOlder Brother to Frostdrop
✦ㅤmentoring N/Aㅤ/ㅤmentored by N/A
✦ "Speak" 🕷 Thoughts
✦ㅤpenned by Rynnarooㅤ/ㅤmessage Rinnaroo on discord for plots!

A sickening sight of a lanky black tom missing half of his left face, scars tattering his body from injuries of times when he was still alive, his eyes a deep amber that looked like burning coils. On his chest, he bores a white heart patch stained with the mud and blackness of the dark forest making it appear darker than it was. He is manipulative, filled with hatred, cold and apathetic, and fueled with the ambition to see the world burn before his paws

 

[WEASELCLAW]

"StarClan or not, I can still smell the rivery stench on his fur," comes a hiss from the dense shadows beyond the foliage. A tabby with a gaunt, withered frame steps closer to Sootstar, blue eyes dead and flat as still water as he sizes the newcomer up. He'd no doubt exchanged blows with this warrior in life, but here, there existed no Clans, no allegiances, except to the loyalties one held on to beyond the grave. Weaselclaw almost absently brushes his flank against Sootstar's; even in this wretched, hellish oblivion, where he places his faith lies clear.

The others all but circle the white-splashed StarClanner, but Weaselclaw remains steadfast beside his mate. Her mocking snarl is like birdsong to his tattered ears. "We don't often get visitors," he purrs; it's a broken, filthy sound, like a cat who cannot clear their throat. "I can't imagine why — can you?" His claws slide from their sheathes, and he grates them into the moldering forest floor, his tail lashing excitably behind him.

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[CLAYFUR]

✦✦ There's someone there, after all. The shuffling of movement through the darkened, rotting underbrush transforms into the shape of another cat, one who appears ready to fight. He looks… nightmarish, if Clay's honest—as though he's coalesced from the shadows themselves, the dark makes it look like smoke rolls off him, turning the edges of his form hazy and wrong. When he shifts, the new angle allows the chocolate tabby to see the numerous wounds that litter his body, including the wet, fresh-looking wound that gapes at the front of his throat. It's a similar injury to the one that had killed Clay, in the end, and he tips his head quizzically at first, squinting at the sight. How is this cat still walking with such a wound? And if he's dead already… why didn't it heal? Who are you? The stranger demands, and Clayfur isn't about to ask the same question in return, but another noise from the dark forest around them startles him.

A loud, harsh cackling makes him wince, though he doesn't dare turn his back on the gray-furred stranger yet. The voice is familiar, but not easily recognizable until its owner presses in closer, the shadows tugging at the smoky blue strands of her pelt. A jagged wound cuts through her throat as well, and understanding flickers in hazel eyes. These cats are definitely dead. And this cat, she's the worst of them all. The first evil in all the clans, the tyrant who'd left a river of blood in her wake as WindClan's leader. Sootstar laughs like it's the most hilarious thing in the world as she declares that he's never leaving. "I'm- you… No, I'm going back," he says in return, his voice rising with concern. He'd told Clearsight—sworn to him—that he would come back. He can't stay here, and especially not with cats like Sootstar. This… Place of No Stars can't be all that's left for him.

Before he can say anything further, another familiar voice meets his ears. He'd know that voice anywhere—Pumpkinpaw's killer, Ashpaw's tormenter, unquestioningly deserving of exile—and whirls to meet Spider without thinking. He looks different in death than he had in life, with half his face a ruin of scars, and it's the least that he deserves for all that he'd done. Clayfur bristles; if he weren't among three enemies now, he'd have lunged at the dark-furred beast just to exact his own revenge. "You," he snarls, baring his teeth as he faces his former clanmate. Long time no see, indeed. "I wondered what hell you got sent to—this place looks fitting for all of you snakes." He doesn't respond to the taunt, because of course he didn't come here to join them. He'd do anything to get back to StarClan, to Clearsight, now.

Yet another figure comes into view, looking less damaged than the rest, but he still looks rough. It's a tom he'd definitely fought before, Weaselclaw of WindClan. The tom clocks him as a RiverClanner easily, though maybe he's just being insulting on principle. I can't imagine why, says Weaselclaw, almost conversationally, through a throat that sounds like he's been gargling rocks for the past month. Clay can certainly imagine why they don't get any visitors here—they're all evil, probably. And under a starless sky, they have free reign here. "Uh, probably 'cause you're all insane… but I've gotta, uh, go now, so if you don't mind…" As he speaks, the tom is already stepping backward, claws sliding from their sheaths. There's four of them and only one of him; he can't hope to win a fight if they decide to make good on their threats. His only escape route is back the way he came (which way did he come from, again?) and then through the fog… but will they let him run? And even then, will he be able to outrun them? Weaselclaw and Sootstar are WindClanners, born to be fast. He can only hope their dead-not-dead bodies are weaker than his own.​

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