pafp MAGICKS // WindClan herb patrol

[cottonsprig]

Wolfsong gives her freedom in doses - though she is largely unaware of the breaks he gives her, purely because she is grieving. He is a hard working man but he is not above mental health and stability, perhaps a wanting trait for Cottonpaw. Regardless, she's restless and he sends her off to find more herbs for their store. A part of her almost jokes about finding lungwort on some bordering land - most of her clenches with pain as she wards the offending jest away.

With the rogues around, Cottonpaw doesn't even want to leave camp all on her own. And so, she asks some idling warriors to attend a small patrol with her. Some she asks because they're familiar faces, be it in the former apprentice crowd or down beneath the tunnels - others join because, in their own words, they don't feel like she'd be safe even with the posse of cats assembled. Regardless, she takes four warriors with her, and they leave for the thunderpath.

"Chervil is sort of... leafy," I think, she leaves her uncertain musings to herself, her bubbly demeanor dampened but not quite gone. "Don't worry - I'll worry about finding some. You guys just..." the grey she-cat shrugs her shoulders, "Keep a look out, I suppose!"

[ pls wait for at least one of the following to reply!
@FOXGLARE @RABBITCLAW @beetlenose @SNAKEHISS ]​

 

[beetlenose]

The rogues are a nuisance– that much is certain. Beetlenose is grateful they haven't run into trouble so far, but part of her wonders whether the rogues or the swamp-dwelling frog-cats would be worse to deal with. At least ShadowClan would (probably) have the decency to not attack their herb patrol, right? Maybe they'd get fun banter out of it– WindClan and its band of charmers. The tunneler huffs, plumy tail flicking as she listens to Cottonpaw's words. Chervil is leafy. Isn't everything else leafy? It's really leaves all the way down, and maybe some mud at the very bottom, too.

Still, it would be good to try and make this trip efficient. Beetlenose supposes she'd rather be efficient in the tunnels, but even more than that she would like to be stationed right here, making sure this patrol was safe. The warrior watches the thunderpath as if it might come to life and eat her, sparing a glance down at the greenery among them every once in a while. "Leafy..." the woman drawls, still staring at the asphalt.​

 

[SNAKEHISS]

He knew that he needed to rebound — and quickly. Time did not wait for grief, for mourning, for processing emotion. Snakehiss hadn't been seen much of anywhere for the past couple of days, understandably so. However, when Cottonpaw had gathered participants in a patrol, he immediately insisted on joining even though more than enough warriors were accompanying her. He could not let whatever he had worked for slip out from under his paws. Snakehiss had a promising future with Cottonpaw, he believed, as long as he did not let their "relationship" stagnate.

The moor runner, eyes dark and heavy from days of wear, walked next to the medicine cat apprentice as she instructed the patrol. He was certainly glad that it wasn't his job to keep tabs on different smelly herbs.

Green eyes drift around before eventually landing on a patch of white daisies, perhaps one of the last of the season. "It's a shame, really, how these flowers will die off soon and be covered in snow." Snakehiss meows aloud, before turning his head toward Cottonpaw. A hint of a smile manifests upon his maw, not quite overly-eager or desperate for attention, though rather inviting and entrancing. "At least your beauty will be keeping the moors radiant throughout leafbare." Not an ounce of hesitation or ingenuity seeps through his compliment, which rolls off his tongue smoothly like it was second nature. No cat has likely ever thought Snakehiss to be a charmer, not until now at least. Who knew that he was even capable of saying such pleasant words?

✰ INFO

• 
  
• 

  ✰ SNAKEHISS
  —— he/him; warrior ( moor runner ) of windclan
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— long-limbed black tom with green eyes, a small white chest patch, and a notable bite mark on his right foreleg
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[NIGHTSWARM]

➼ Nightswarm was currently out within the marshes with their apprentice and kin at their side when the scent of the moorlands wafts to their nose causing them to quirk a single nonexistent eyebrow in the direction it had come from. With a flick of their tail, they motion for Nettlepaw to follow them seeing that this could be a teaching opportunity with border marking and recognizing the scent of the moorland rats that seemed keen on making everyone its enemy. They still recall when Windclan had been an ally though that had been around the time that their older littermate had reigned over Shadowclan, an ear flicks as if dimissing the memory entirely. "That's the smell of the moorlands. Windclan." The dark feline says to Nettlepaw with a matter a fact voice and nod of their head.

"Windclan," Nightswarm begins watching the group of Windclanners that are present and can't help but cringe in the slightest at what one of them says to a gray molly but they're quick to remove the expression from their face in a heartbeat and adds on in a monotonous voice "I hope the moors are treating you well." Although, they could could care less but ponders if Windclan has been having any issues with rogues lately they don't bother asking as they beckon Nettlepaw forward only to brush against the bark of a tree with their body and then nod to another one "It's important to mark the borders to keep out unwanted visitors." Nightswarm says to their apprentice and motions to another tree for Nettlepaw to mark.

- @NETTLEPAW

➼ C'MON, C'MON, AND LOVE ME NORMALLY

• 
  ➼ 34 moons old
  ➼ shadowclan warrior
  ➼ child of briarstar & amber
  ➼ asexual demiromantic; single
  ➼ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ➼ semi-difficult in combat; relies on stealth, their agility, and strategy
  ➼ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ➼ penned by bosstaurus

​

 

[FOXGLARE]

⁀➷ They were in for a troublesome Leafbare, Foxglare thought as their posse marched across the moors to the Thunderpath border. Prey was becoming scarcer as the ground began to chill beneath their paws, and while half of their healthy sets of paws journeyed to find a cure, more cats fell ill by the day. For as much stress that Windclan's warriors were under, Fox could only imagine the pressure felt by the likes of Wolfsong and Cottonpaw, having to deal with all the medicine-making and praying and such. Especially since Cottonpaw's... Well, anyway, he was just pleased to be of use to the medicine cats when he could.

"Sorta leafy... huh." Foxglare muttered with eyes scanning the undergrowth for greenery. How many leaves was a plant supposed to have to be called a leafy plant? He was stumped. It all looked like weeds to him. Regardless, he remained dutifully focused on the task at hand, eyes sharp for sorta leafy plants and for signs of animals moving about, in hopes of either thwarting an intruder or snagging some prey while they were out.

Foxglare was content to try and tune out Snakehiss' yammering generally, so he didn't bat an eye when he piped up about finding flowers. Thought we were lookin' for leaves...? But his words toward Cottonpaw make his head turn, was he making jokes at her or something? With a glance at the black-pelted tom in question, it looked like he was dead-serious about it. When'd that happen?

The young warrior's attention was brought back briefly to the Shadowclan border patrol that approached, to which he offered a formal nod of his head. "Hope the prey's still plentiful in the marsh this time'a season," he said toward the other side of the Thunderpath. Weird, he didn't think of Snakehiss as someone who would catch the eye of someone like Cottonpaw. In all honesty, Fox thought he'd lacked the charisma. Or maybe Cottonpaw was sweet-tempered enough to have the patience to see past his—in his opinion—more bothersome proclivities.

ALL IN ALL ⁀➷☾⁺₊ IS ALL WE ARE ; 09/08/23

• OOC:
• 
• 
  — sun . fox . foxpaw . foxglare
  — he/him. 11mo moor-runner of windclan
  — bisexual ; single
  — a large, scarred, longhaired light ginger tabby with high white and grey eyes
  — smells like wet oak wood and dewy sedge
  — sounds like leon kennedy, with a vague texan drawl.
  — the straight-faced and taciturn adopted son of houndthistle, lived as a twolegplace loner until 7 moons old, now a moor-runner of windclan. stalwart and resilient, he is not easily shaken and lives by a very strict personal code of honor.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — icon by mercurial, chibi by vulture
  — penned by eezy

​

 

[FERNDANCE]

The promise of rogues attacking one's home felt like an all too familiar tale to the cinnamon tabby. Part of Ferndance wondered if old adversaries wandered among those who sought to capitalise on the Clans' failures, if she would see faces that not even mothers loved promise death to her for the sins of her predecessors. The possibility hung on the air like a noxious smell, then, as she sniffed it again, she realised that all she could smell was WindClan's border, marred with smoke and tar. A glint of hostility shone and vanished within the Lead Warrior's emerald eyes, her smile curling up towards them. Pushing out of the mossy foliage, Ferndance's large ears twitched, her head slowly reaching an impossible angle as she stared down the WindClanners that addressed them. There was a friendliness there that felt thinner than the tip of a claw, a falsity she wanted them to know she saw but did not want to make a large deal out of. Everyone was suffering, she would rather sink her teeth into someone who would not be of a political consequence whilst the pressure to perform was so heavy on her shoulders. Though... there would still be time to let loose.

"I ate a frog the size of your head the other day," she spoke towards Foxbreath, voice breathy with a faux wonderstruck. "It was a positively radiant snack, enough to keep me going throughout leafbare and beyond." Her eyes fall upon the young lovers, their words acrid when spoken on hostile borders. Her smirk twitched daringly, her tongue swiping the corner of her mouth as if she'd just consumed a delectable morsel. She shimmied her shoulders and stood tall. "Do carry on, I love disasters."

​

 

[ASHENFALL]

˚⊹₊‧ 𖦹 Ashenpaw was content to sulkily trudge alongside Snakefoot today if only so he could bring down the warrior's mood with him. He couldn't quite remember what specifically he'd done to piss him off that morning, but it wasn't like it actually mattered.

However, their meeting with the "moor-rats" across the border today had a little bit of amusement in store. The older Shadowclanners may have had the decorum to either ignore or snidely commentate on the Windclanner's public display of affection, but Ashenpaw did not.

"HAAHAA!! the torbie burst out with a laugh, "What was that?!" The six-moon-old seemed to be in higher spirits, at least, lighting up with a manic gleam in his eye. "DO ANOTHER ONE!" he crowed across their stony border.

"Looks like Windclan's having problems finding prey..." he would comment to a nearby apprentice, "Check out how skinny that one is." He gestured with his tail toward the spidery-looking black cat that had been the subject of everyone's entertainment so far. Ashenpaw's own complaining belly was temporarily sated with the knowledge that the Yuck-Bunnies across the Thunderpath were potentially suffering more than them.

FOLLOW THE TIDE ˚⊹₊‧ 𖦹 WITH THE MONSTERS ON YOUR SHOULDER

• OOC: once again apologizing for his behavior...
• 
• 
  — ashenkit . ashenpaw
  — trans male. he/him. 6mo apprentice of shadowclan
  — gay ; single
  — longhaired muted blue torbie with heterochromatic pale blue and amber eyes
  — smells like rainsoaked ferns and swamp milkweed
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — fullbody by tropics
  — penned by eezy
  — currently in an era of grief and anger, approach with caution. all ic opinions!

​

 

[Maggotfur.]

🕱 NO I DON'T MIND YOU ARE A BEAUTY 🕱

---

maggotpaw & 11 moons & female & she/her & shadowclan apprentice​

---

Oh - it's that one again. This time, without her father and half of windclan following along beside her, which is at least an improvement even if her current company is still as annoying as ever. Annoyance and irritation is hard to hide in turquoise gaze as she watches, equal parts curious and disgusted. She doesn't understand how cottonpaw can be worth magpiepaw's time - she is nothing like sunflowerpaw. The thought of the golden feline has her craning her neck for a moment, but she's met with emptiness - they're not here, and it makes her frown. They'd ran into one another so often, as though starclan themselves had ordained it - so why not now? All her.... friends... are gone. It's uncomfortable, being alone again. ferndance makes some quip she can't be bothered to pay attention to, but Ashenpaw's words only leave her more disgusted than before - she gives him a blank stare, looking down her muzzle at him as though he's no better than th moor-rats he mocks. (really, he's not) "Tch." The sooner they finish this patrol she thinks, the bettter.

— not temptation, you're my creation ♛

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: sorry she is not nice
  tw/cw: —
  
• 
  — a massive tabby she-cat with striking turquoise eyes, there has always been something not-right about her. cold and apathetic, and more than a bit unhinged, the monster that is maggotpaw is a volitile presence within shadowclan. she seems strangely taken by magpiepaw, putting herself in role of both tormentor and protector.
  
  — physically medium && mentally hard
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay not-allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=mediumpurple]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 

[honeymoon]

sweet like honey
———— ( ☀ ) ————

Trailing behind Ferndance was her apprentice, copper eyes bright with unbridled curiosity as they sweep the edges of the territory. It wasn't often Honeypaw was this far from camp, and she enjoyed seeing the sights while she could. Sunbright paws pranced quickly behind Ferndance, chatting excitedly with someone else on their heels. Times were dire, dark and almost impossible to find pleasure in - Honeypaw often found it to be in her best interest to temporarily forget her strifes while she was between tasks. The acidic stench of the thunderpath clogs her nose and makes her choke on her words briefly, spluttering a cough that she uses her paw to hide before she catches her breath. Honeypaw quickens her pace to catch back up behind Ferndance, leaning to the side to peer around the Lead Warrior across the river of void that separated them from a host of unfamiliar faces. Tufted ears flick back as the voices of her Clanmates caw out around her, mostly a mocking cacophony against the little moor mites.

Boy, Ashenpaw was loud and annoying, but he was also right. That guy sure is awfully scrawny. The midday molly scoffs as she departs from her mentor's side, brushing her cheek against the bark of a tree. She closes an eye as she scratches her cheek on the tree, other one carefully kept open and on the WindClanners as she moved. Even with her Clanmates at her side, she certainly didn't trust WindClanners to keep peace. 'Chervil' catches her ears, and her expression darkens to a frown briefly. That weird kid was talking about the herb, she knew it, but hearing her little sister's name from WindClan make her skin itch worse than fleas. "They're probably all codebreakers," the apprentice huffs in response to Ashenpaw, moving from the tree she had rubbing on to instead spray a bundle of browning fronds. Ferndance's tact on dancing the line between hostile and odd was lost entirely on Honeypaw, who quickly followed down the path Ashenpaw had blazed. "Bet they don't feed their kits first. Or even at all - HEY!" Honeypaw raised her voice, more than was necessary for their distance. "FLIRTY GUY! DO YOU EVEN EAT?" As much as it was just Honeypaw being difficult, she couldn't help but sincerely wonder. Sootstar was pretty... well... notoriously awful. What if she kept her own warriors from eating? Seems like something an evil cat would do, and Sootstar was certainly evil.

​

 

[beetlenose]

She didn't think the first thing she'd have to endure would be Snakehiss's attempts at flirting with Cottonpaw. Frankly, it is disgusting, and goes against StarClan. She can't believe that words so saccharine can drip out of Snakehiss's mouth, considering his usual deposition. Beetlenose squints at the pair, then turns her gaze to Foxglare for some semblance of support. Did you hear that? She wrinkles her nose slyly at him, but eventually her attention is drawn back to the Thunderpath. There's cats on the other side of it.

This ShadowClanner seems decent. Beetlenose stalks closer to Foxglare in a bid to get away from whatever lovey-dovey fox-dung was happening between the other two WindClanners, but her gaze remains on Nightswarm, tail flicking. "Howdy," she hums, pleased that their little patrol is free of drama. Even Ferndance's banter isn't all too scathing (and, admittedly, she finds it sort of funny or maybe cathartic to see Snakehiss get a bit of comeuppance, considering his silver tongue lashes all too frequently).

Then Ashenpaw and Honeypaw arrive, and the joke is getting old. Their crowing grates against her ears; she is hungrier with each syllable, her paws more weary with each click of their jaws. And still no chervil– at least, none that she can discern from any other weed that surrounds them. This is annoying. Beetlenose levels a pointed copper stare against Honeypaw, tail flicking at her suggestions. "His favorite meal is mouthy ShadowClan apprentices, actually," the tunneler drawls, deadpan. "Looks like you arrived just in time...."

Maybe most WindClanners would be more biting, or more easily provoked into real border scuffles, but Beetlenose is doubtful that this particular group would spiral into such means. She certainly doesn't feel like it, anyway. The black-and-fawn femme instead turns her attention back to the leafy greens that, unfortunately, grew along this stinking border. If bratty apprentices wanted to make conversation with her, they'd better be WindClanners.​

 

[RABBITCLAW]

I didn't sign up for the brats lousy flirting. She can't help her eyes from rolling, then again she isn't alone in her annoyance. Would she say anything? Nope, because the last thing she wants is for Snakehiss to annoy her about butting in his problems. Whatever. Leafy and green. To be honest she wasn't sure what the heck the difference was between weeds and chervil. Plants were plants. If she had been Windclan's medicine cat then everyone would be dead because she most definitely would give up and maybe give something poisonous to one of her clanmates. Windclan should be glad that she is a tunneler and not anything else, however she did come here to help. If you ask me, there's too many of us here to do this.

Despite the weirdness of this situation she keeps to herself and looks around the ground to find something could be considered chervil. Her ears flick and an amused smile makes its way to her lips when she hears Snakehiss being torn to shreds. Serves you right. Other than the jeering comments from Shadowclan, it seems like they're all doing good today. Heck, even Foxglare is civil towards the Shadowclanners. Beetlenose doesn't try anything, which is expected. Beetlenose has always been somecat she enjoyed being partnered with. She felt as if they were on a similar wavelength. The comment slightly biting comment she gives to the jeering Shadowclanners is nothing to worry about. It only serves as a reminder that they chose not to be violent. They had all peacefully began looking for Chervil or trying to. Ignore them. They're a waste of time.

How do medicine cats even tell? Leafy doesn't really help, everything looks green and leafy! Rabbitclaw lets out a huff, her paws quite muddy as she turns her head to Cottonpaw. "Bein' a medicine cat is haaaaard. They all look the same to me Cotton! You said chervil is leafy, but what's leafy? Like it got big leaves? How big is chervil anyway?" Perhaps she would amuse Cottonpaw with her line of questioning, considering she had told Rabbitclaw and the others to leave it to her. Yet here was Rabbitclaw with no knowledge rummaging around blindly.​

 

[NETTLEPAW ♡]

Nettlepaw was untouched by whatever this tension was, striding alongside his mentor with the natural ease he was used to adopting. He nodded at Nightswarm's instruction, splitting forward to brush his flank against a tree. They're probably all codebreakers, murmured Honeypaw, and the cinnamon tom's eyes alit with the humour of it- everything bad was synonymous with WindClan, wasn't it? Those preprints churning the mud up, and now this. His nose wrinkled with amusement. It seemed absurd.

One Windclanner, serious as if it were a fact, betrayed that her Clanmate was one to be feared, specifically by them- ShadowClan apprentices. Nettlepaw didn't know if he qualified as mouthy quite yet, but... an overwhelming desire to fit in would soon have him scampering forward and calling over the border at the Windclanners. "What a coincidence!" he chimed, flicking wide blue eyes to the wiry black tom who apparently liked to feast on apprentices. His eyes were alight with the blue fire of jest. "We'd better shut up, then. Spare us, spare us!"​

penned by pin ♡​