camp [INTRO] be nice to me;

[Blazeclaw]

IN THE BEGINNING WE WERE WINNING ————————————​

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blazeclaw leisurely strolls into the dark hollow that makes up shadowclan's camp. he's just returned from a rather productive hunting patrol; not only did he manage to nab a frog, but blazeclaw also found himself carrying a pigeon in his mouth. part of him wonders if his three kits have ever tasted pigeon -- it could be an interesting treat for the three of them (and eggskip, of couorse). the fear of wasting such a precious catch on kits who might just insist upon a rat or a frog makes its presence known as he stops in his tracks. should he let them try it, and hope that they like it? or should he listen to little slugkit's disdain for eating slimy things, and run the risk of it not going over well? decisions about what to feed the kits was hardly something that should cause this much trouble for a young warrior and father, but for blazeclaw, he fears disappointing the kits or worse, disappointing the senior warriors, deputy, or even chilledstar themself.

he pads towards the freshkill pile and drops the frog and pigeon. he'll give himself some time to think over what to bring for eggskip, leechkit, mantiskit, and slugkit, and maybe the decision will be made for him by a hungry queen, elder, or kit. there's more than just those two items in the freshkill pile, but to blazeclaw, he feels as if they're the only things he can bring to show off how adept he is at hunting to his kits (he had to boost his ego somehow, and this happens to be an excellent way to do it).
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——————————————————————————————————— but now i'm just making up facts ​

 

[Magpiepaw]

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He had never been a strong hunter. The inability to walk a straight line without smashing his nose into the ground often disturbed prey and made the act tedious. If he focused and fate was kind, he might managed slower targets like a toad or frog but swift lizards and scurrying mice were not even an option for him. His being a medicine cat was the only real option the more he thought on it, other than an early retirement to the elder's den where he would assuredly have Fleabounce's mangy pelt as company for too long.

"Do you intend to stare at it or will you be grabbing something?" Appearing like a shadow behind the warrior, Magpiepaw's wide unblinking eyes locked onto the ginger tom with scrutiny. He had come out to get something for himself and Starlingheart and he was being prevented from looking at the pile more properly by this other cat gazing longingly upon the carcasses like a lover lost. His eyes dart to the side, honing in on the frog and pigeon the older cat is focused most intently on and he leans forward to grab the pigeon in his mouth; bending around Blazeclaw without so much as an 'excuse me' as he plucks up his target and turns to trot away.

——— ⸸ I'm the kid in the rain. Celebrate the insane ———— ⸸ Yeah, never goes my way

• OOC can go here.
• 
  
  
  Magpiepaw
  —⊰⋅ MCA of ShadowClan
  —⊰⋅ He/They
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ Black tom w/a white throat and blue-violet eyes.
  —⊰⋅ Has mild cerebellar hypoplasia (Wobbly cat syndrome)
  
  

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[smogstar]

Better to teach the young'uns to stomach the clan's fresh-kill while they're still warm from the womb. It certainly doesn't get any less slimy, and you can't have a seven or eight moon-old turning their muzzle at the only nourishment they'll ever receive here. Prolonged exposure to the food in these parts reduces even the most sensitive cats' tastebuds, after all. Whether from here or there, or even over there, everything shares the same sort of bloody, rotten aftertaste.

Smogmaw has acclimated so completely to it, that he treats frog's eggs as a delicacy, and his digestive tracts nigh on rebelled against the unfamiliar prey he wolfed down while on the journey.

There is a silver lining woven into the meagre selection, that being the impressively low expectations among ShadowClan cats. Poor standards maketh a pragmatic warrior. With this undeniable truth at paw, Smogmaw can only observe Blazeclaw's pondering with his head held askew and what would pass as a grin per his rugged mug's limitations. Magpiepaw accosts the warrior and plucks the plump bird right from the pile, a move which prompts a shallow, singular chuckle from the grizzled tom. The early bird gets the pigeon, in this case.

"Can't be that hard to choose what you want, Blazeclaw," he says on approach, filling the gap once occupied by the medicine cat apprentice. With an outstretched, dark-smirched limb, the deputy gestures at what remained. "Look, this one's got a li'l more meat on its bones," meows the tabby, before swiveling his distended paw toward another, "oh, and that one's got spots." ​

 

[jaggedpath !]

―|―――――――――――――――――|⤙‹ (( ☽ )) ›⤚|―――――――――――――――――|―

Jaggedpath trotted in behind Blazeclaw with his own minor success on their patrol. He was no two-timed catcher this morning, but maybe he could redeem himself at midnight's hunting patrol for something better. Between his teeth held a decent (it's really nothing to look at) frog to join the countless others across the pile. The tom dropped off his catch beside Blazeclaw, and have a shaky chuckle as their Clanmates teased him.

"A-ah picky tongue? In ShadowClan? Not a ch-chance." His shoulder gently tapped against the younger tom's in a fond, playful tune. "Need suh-somethin' for the lass, yeah? I'd say, ah, g-go with the bird but... The bird g-go'it first." He's almost jealous, that pigeon looked like a fine meal to share.

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―|――――――――――――――|⤙‹ (( ☽ )).....

☾⤙‹ (( ooc -☽- info )) ›⤚☽

• // OOC​
• image here optional
• ― (( jaggedpath )) fluffy white tom with black speckles on his muzzle and bright blue eyes
  ↳ shadowclan, warrior, cismale he/him
  ― easy to make friends with | bad at romance | good at teaching | bad with kits​

 

[FERNDANCE]

Being the best hunter in ShadowClan was a little like being the best alive cat in a graveyard, but Ferndance was confident enough to believe that she held the moniker. Of course, even the creme de la creme could struggle sometimes and with a suspicious lack of her own kills upon the pile, the cinnamon tabby had to look for acceptable alternatives.She drifted closer, hovering close to Blazeclaw like a ghost and looking over his shoulder at all of the delicacies that remained. The pigeon was nice until the apprentice snatched it up (she ought to wring his neck for being able to eat while her own had to wait), now, the pile was looking very green. An impish smile appeared on her maw. "You could always take the pigeon from him..." She whispered as if it were a dare, tone lighter than feathers. "He's breaking the Warrior Code... not letting your babies eat first." Ferndance didn't think he'd dare it, even in pursuit of good, which was why the seriousness that reached her was tepid at best and whimsical at worst.
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