camp MORAL BUT MALIGNED | news™

[SOOTSPOT]

Sootspot did not want to make a habit of being WindClan's messenger. Shovel-like claws were made for digging rather than dashing, and each time he felt a fresh new burn in his lung, the tom was reminded of why he was not a moor-runner. It would've been easier for him to take to the tunnels and run that way, but conflict scrambled the tom's senses, so focused on reaching WindClan's camp that he didn't think of all the wiser ways to get there. Over and over again, one idea pounded his head to the point where he had stopped more than once: 'don't tell them'. The benefits might have outweighed the drawbacks, the drawbacks might have outweighed the benefits, the scales seemed perfectly balanced as he tried to make sense of the dozens of scenarios that entered his head. The outcomes weren't as foreseeable as he liked, if only because the source of his ire was an unknown. As he stumbled to a halt, pausing in his duty, a part of Sootspot wondered if he should go back the way he came and learn more. But, before he finished that idea, fight-or-flight kicked in, and off the tom ran again.

When he burst into camp, the eyes of clanmates sharing tongues bearing down upon him, he'd given up any chance at playing both sides.

"Sunstar!" The miniature tom called out, his sides heaving from the exertion. He did not wait for the rosette tabby to make an appearance, it was important for everyone to know what he had discovered. Either he would legitimately earn trust for a good deed, or the clan would proclaim he cried wolf and he could disappear into the shadows to allow them to be eaten alive... why did he get the sudden feeling of deja vu? "I was hunting by the borders when a familiar scent assaulted my nose." Pretty flowers often bloomed in his words, nightshade, foxgloves, and saffron all presented in a bunch to whoever was willing to accept him, but they were absent from his lexicon as he looked around. The fur on his chest bristled in a subconscious attempt to hide the scar that settled between the strands. "Sootstar's loyalists had been there - their smells are not what they once were, but the stench of the ShadowClanner she declared a Deputy was still unmistakable." Clanmates that heeded his guidance as a Lead Warrior had likely been among them and the thought was a confusing one. They'd been the only cats to respect him, would they still do so on anything other than name once he met them again?

He tried to push the rhetoric down into his subconscious, being the most respected cat in WindClan meant nothing without the power to do anything with it. There was little dignity in the way he panted and pressed his belly against the cool earth, he knew once he had gotten his praise, he would drink enough water to drown a horse. Sootspot shook his head and inhaled loudly, wide eyes looking expectantly at the Tallrock.

[ calling for @SUNSTAR ]


​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

AS HE RAISED HIS FIST BEFORE HE SPOKE — It was honestly a bit odd, not being greeted with an immediate sense of weariness when Sootspot first appeared in her line of vision. She had become so used to it that she had essentially begun to associate her fellow tunneler with exhaustion, and this time probably would have been no different - had it not been for the way his chest heaved with each breath. He didn't look like he had just returned from a routine patrol, instead looking as if he had been rushing like a bat out of hell to escape a horrible threat right on his tail. Her first thought was that Thunderclan somehow hadn't gotten rid of all the wolves that plagued their territory, and she was up and onto her paws within an instant, heading towards the nursery to help with evacuation if necessary. Though Sootspot's call for Sunstar caused her to linger near the entrance, dark ears perked to hear what he had come to warn them of.

Even though he hadn't come racing to tell them about a wolf on the moors, Rattleheart didn't feel comforted by what did end up spilling out of his muzzle. Her shoulders slumped as soon as she heard the word loyalists leave him, having been hoping - and praying - that they had all just decided to get rid of themselves for good. Maybe gone and become kittypets, considering the dedication they had shown to actually being decent warriors. Unfortunately it seemed that her wishes hadn't been granted, tail lashing as she thought of Granitepelt lingering outside of their borders, waiting in the shadows for another unwitting warrior like Heathermoon to come along. "We should go and get rid of them once and for all." The words slipped from her muzzle with such ease that even she seemed startled by them, recoiling a little at the violence that simmered beneath her pelt. She had never considered herself to be a bloodthirsty cat unless necessary, but... was this not necessary?

Granitepelt had already taken one good tunneler from them, what was to stop him from taking even more?

Not wanting any of the kits to hear the venom that would no doubt be dripping from her words, she hastily moved away from the nursery and nearer to where Sootspot - and hopefully soon Sunstar - stood. "I... I don't mean we should go charging in without a plan. But he's already taken Heathermoon from us. He won't stop there if he can help it." Her claws dug down into the dirt beneath her, churning up what could be reached as she looked towards their leader. When she spared another brief glance towards Sootspot, there was none of the usual hostility in her gaze - instead there was a begrudging respect. A respect that was echoed by her words, tense as they may have been thanks to the situation itself. "You did well to come right back and tell Sunstar of this. Thank Starclan they didn't find you." Much as Rattleheart may have disliked Sootspot, she didn't want to see him dead. She had her doubts that any of the loyalists would care about his former ties these days, and she didn't want to see him as another tunneler corpse left in the flowers for them to find.

THE RIGHTEOUS HAND OF GOD 𓆩♡𓆪 THE DEVIL THAT YOU FORGOT

• 

• 
  ❥ longhaired black and white tom with pale green eyes
  ❥ 50 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  ❥ afab; uses he/she/they pronouns
  ❥ homosexual homoromantic; mated to venomstrike
  ❥ sibling to scorchstreak, lizardbounce, and rabbitclaw
  ❥ currently mentoring downypaw
  ❥ somewhat difficult to befriend; wary but kind
  ❥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ❥ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ❥ all opinions are ic

​

 

[Firefang]

There was no use in returning to Duskclan after Sootstar's death, she served her not the Shadowclan muck-swallower she appointed as her successor. So much of her would love to pin so much of the blame for everything that happened onto him, for his active involvement in her drawn out demise; in her madness. Him and Sunstarhad been two strikes in the nail of her coffin, she wishes Shadowclan would've killed them before he came to their camp ragged and bloodied the tale of Sunstar's treachery spilling out. Things could've been different, she hates her own treachery for hoping that she never learned, for wishing those kits were never stolen - for wishing to go back to a time where things felt right. She's still loyal, she swears she is! If only things had been different!

Sootstar was a good cat a great leader the mother of Windclan who'd carried them through thick and thin - she wasn't evil wasn't some conniving serpent wearing a coat of cat skin. Granitepelt was exactly that, his venom had seeped into the moors and into her leader he was a threat that needed to be handled. She wishes to sever the head of the snake herself, long as he lived long as the rest of what remained of what she was once apart of remained there would always be a reminder of Sootstar's final and worst moments. They were a debauchery of her memory in Firefang's eyes more then she was for betraying her - for betraying them like Snakehiss and the others had done to save their skin.

She looks at Sootspot evenly, the memory of their late night conversation was still a very recent memory. "They're not her loyalist" not anymore, she states her tail flicking there's a twinge of sadness to her voice that grows into a growl "They're foxhearted rogues following a traitorous Shadowclan murderer. They had their chance to flee and start over" was what she was doing really taking that chance to start over, she doesn't know.

She reiterates Rattleheart's suggestion though with much more violent bravado "Instead they kill one of our warriors and make a mockery of us! I say we paint the moors red with Granitepelt's blood for Heathermoon!" if they were slaughtered she would no longer have to think about them, no longer think back her decision to live... To live in Windclan and not with them fighting a war that was already over. They were outnumbered greatly and fighting beneath a tattered banner of a fallen leader - Firefang doubts they need a plan when they have sheer numbers.

---

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

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  text
  

• "speech"

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  Firefang ✩ She/Her, Warrior of Windclan, 22 moons
  ⭃ Black tabby she-cat with amber eyes. former-loyalist of Sootstar, Moorunner.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Kedamono ↛ @legmeatt on discord, feel free to dm for plots. ​

​

 

[REDHEART]

The days had grown warmer and with it far more pleasant. Standing near his adoptive kin the tabbies back spikes with surprise as Sootspot barrels into camp. Their body visibly heaving with each breath as he claimed the presence of unwelcome neighbors. His green eyes widen with evident dismay at the news. It seemed the remnants of Sootstar's madness would forever be a burr in their sides. Instinctively, he scoots closer to Rattleheart's side and his expression hardens at her grave statement. Redheart closes his eyes harshly to the point he sees stars. For the love of everything can't they just disappear! It was a weak prayer but he could hardly handle anymore nonsense. Windclan had won, the traitors were weeded out, and times were meant to change for the better. He didn't much care for Sootspot's presence, but Redheart begrudgingly agreed this was incredibly vital news.

Tiredly, he looks to the ebony and white Lead, nodding silently at her suggestion. Firefang's growl pulls his attention to fellow moor-runner, and his chest tightens at the rhetoric. Icey eyes filled with hope and confusion flash within the tabbies subconscious. Sucking in a pained breath he holds back the urge to clarify the former loyalists words. No, he made his choice. Don't defend them. Pushing away the memories of his former friend the newly made warrior huffs in tense agreement. "I don't want those brute's near my family. If there's even a chance they intend to show their rotten mugs around here-" A growl interrupts his words. "-then I want to ensure they regret it." Gritting their teeth the ruddy tom's pupils thin with frustration.

I'm not so little anymore. Rivepaw's worried gaze takes the place of Rumblerain's cooler one and his anxieties seem to lighten. The freshly healed scar across his forehead tingles at the memory of clashing claws. I'll definitely make them pay. Rather than add to the rising voices he waits for Sunstar's word. Paws clenched and at the ready for any duty that may come his way.​

 

[FEATHERSPINE]

As with Redheart's claw-marks, the scar spanning the length of Featherpaw's spine prickled with frustration at the mention of Sootstar's loylists. Rage, freeze-burning, sprawled through her blood- he had always vowed that, if he was thrust into battle again, he would not allow anyone to tear a scream from him. She would hurt everyone before they lay a claw on her- she would not be clumsy, would not be whipped into a panicked frenzy. Bluepool was crafting her into a telented warrior, into something perfect, and perfection could not be marred again.

Firefang's words earned a snort from her- for, of course Featherpaw was nearby. Whenever her father was called, she was diligently there, glowering with sharp yellow eyes. "They're loyal to the d-d-deputy Sootstar chose." Featherpaw spat her name out like it was poisonous. He would not allow any cat who had ordered death on his father- on his leader- to be remembered fondly in any sense.

Apart from that, though... for Firefang seemed very talented in making him want to bite out some barbed words... Featherpaw stayed silent, a spiny sideline sentinel. She didn't imagine she would be recruited for anything when there were warriors... but any good apprentice should know the goings-on. ​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[SUNNVAR]

There is little distinction in his mind between the loyalists who had left, and those who had chosen to remain. Of all the cats that joined their cause a little too late, not even Cottonpaw has been wholly forgiven. Downypaw perhaps, but the apprentice is alone in near-absolution. What glimmer of hope he had once felt for the others' growth had simmered to a low ember's heat. Perhaps he should give them time — all who had been part of Sootstar's lives were scarred now, deeply and terribly; perhaps their wounds still bled each time that they strained against who she made them. Perhaps they were merely young enough that they could never know anything differently. But his kindness comes in limited flashes now, and Firefang's statement hits Sunstar's mind at a place of weakness where his defenses shatter and teeth bare. "Do her loyalists remain here, then?" he snaps, striding closer into the group.

Each stride betrays his agitation. Tail flicking, shoulders tense. Even his eyes are as cold as a glacier regardless of which cat they sweep across. And behind them, his mind is circling in twisted knots. The option to end this, once and for all, sits before them. To spill the last of their loyalist blood, to truly cleanse the clans of Sootstar's reign.

His throat clicks. Slowly, he says, "No. . . " Louder, then, firmer: "No." He regards Sootspot with the same hard gaze, distant with thought as if seeing straight through the young warrior. "I made my promise to Chilledstar that they would have Granitepelt laid before their paws. He wronged their clan as much as ours." Perhaps more so, though the crime of giving them kittens that would always be torn away seems nearly equal to what had became of Starlingheart. "The rest of them will be finished off on our own, but first it is time to draw him out. He will be ShadowClan's concern. Without a tested leader, they will crumble."

"All of you will follow Sootspot to where he discovered this scent. I want their path tracked before it fades. Do not get close. Do not allow them to catch you."

⋆°•☁︎ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃  ╱╱ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝗕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 〚 02.11.2024 〛 𖤓

• OOC. if you guys want to play out the tracking thread, feel free! otherwise this can absolutely be a background thing that just happens
• 

  SUNSTAR. LEADER OF WINDCLAN.   ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, MOUNTAIN CATS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING RIVEPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ A LARGE, FRESHLY SCARRED CHOCOLATE AND WHITE ROSETTE TABBY TOM WITH SEAGLASS BLUE EYES

• "speech"

​

 

[rivewhisper]

"TAKE ME TO YOUR ORCHARD, SO SWEET"​

Perhaps it's cliche to say her gut aches at the news that Sootspot shouts into camp to anyone who would listen. The way terror grips her heart. The way that her eyes is shut tight while her right stares out from across camp, bile rising in her throat. She swallows, cough, head turning away with a shudder. They had left, hadn't they? The loyalists were gone, right? This wasn't real. This had to be a lie. The scent of hay and manure is thick in her nose and it takes Rivepaw a good few minutes of heavy breathing to regain herself.

She stands when Sunstar speaks, walking over on wobbly legs. A glance given towards Featherpaw, her side pressing against Redheart's. Vision searched Redheart's, should theirs meet- and his resolve solidified her own worries, settled her aching stomach. Her ears twitched, feathered tips waving in the wind for which they were named forward. Owl-eyed blues turned towards her mentor, her leather, her father. "I want to go." Rivepaw declared, lifting her head and squaring her shoulders.

Rivepaw had been getting good- her stalking and creeping efficient. She had scared a clanmate once or twice, and that stealth skill was only getting stronger. "... Please." She added on as an afterthought, steady gaze resting upon her father.
​

"yuh"​

 

[SCORCHSTAR]

༄༄ For once in his miserable life, Sootspot proves himself useful. The tom comes rushing back into camp from stars know where, he seems concerned—no, near-panicked. Fiery eyes narrow, and Scorchstreak ceases her quick grooming of dappled fur to turn her attention on the smoked gray tunneler instead. She knows Sootspot, though only superficially. She knows of his treachery, of his dedication to being little more than the scum of the earth that he’d been born to be. Stars, even Bluefrost seems more loyal to WindClan than he. But for once, what falls from his mouth is not vile treachery, meant to burrow like worms into the minds of those he intends to manipulate. For once, the tom proves himself an asset to the clan.

He speaks of Sootstar’s loyalists, and the calico lead warrior’s tail lashes with irritation. The band of rogues who had once pledged their loyalty to Sootstar still plague them, even months after their mad queen’s death. That Granitepelt still antagonizes them now is a matter not of pride but of insult. Her own kit, now and forever a misguided warrior, has strayed from their intended path, the one she tried so hard to set them upon, and trails obediently after Sootstar’s final deputy. Shadowclan has not been without its fair share of grief at the paws of Sootstar’s hounds, either; it is understandable that they wish their traitorous ex-warrior laid at their paws to save the justice that he deserves.

But cats like Thriftfeather, like Hollowcreek—like Rumblerain—they will face their own justice. WindClan’s warriors will not allow them to hide away from their fate. They cannot be allowed to remain out there in the wilds, still playing too close to WindClan’s borders for comfort.

The rosetted leader tells a group of warriors to track the rogues’ scent, to find where they came from, and golden eyes flicker to him, narrowed with intrigue. "What is the plan, Sunstar?" How does he think to lure Granitepelt out of whatever foxhole he has taken shelter in, even if they manage to track the scent of the other rogues that he leads? Sending a patrol out with only a flimsy plan seems a foolish idea, but she does not offer this opinion to the leader. In the end, she trusts Sunstar’s judgment—trusts him, period. He has a plan, most likely. They need only wait for him to reveal it.​

​

 

[Frightpaw]

*+:｡.｡ Frightkit's ears poked up from the nursery den's entrance, the hullabaloo catching her interest. She would stick to the shadows, somehow despite her naivety feeling the tension in the air enough to know to keep her maw shut. Though she can't sneak too close, she still hears a few interesting words. Sootstar, Loyalists, and the implication from Sunstar that whoever these creatures were, they could catch them. She looks back at her clanmates, watching the whites in their eyes catch the light like exposed beetle wings forced free of their shells. Previously calm cats now bristle, angry cats are all the angrier, and brave cats now quiver.
She feels something big is happening - and to a kitten who sees everything from below, she wishes more than ever to be grown enough to understand!

*+:｡.｡ Updated 1/11/23

• 
  
• 
  " Speech "
  
  
  GENERAL:
  ☾ Frightkit
  ☾ DFAB— She/Her — Unsure
  ☾ 2 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
  ☾ Windclan Kit
  ☾ Sister to Deathkit, Witherkit, Grasskit, Whitekit and Midnightkit
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ☾Physically very easy | mentally very easy
  ☾ Attack in bold #1b1e21
  injuries: None

​

 

[cottonsprig]

Cottonpaw knows how light her paws must tread. Her loyalty is to WindClan, to the tom who leads it - but she is not blind to her actions that came before. To her complacency, her efforts in repairing what should have remain torn prior to her true Clanmates returning home. Some are comfortable with her again, but others... are not. She cannot help her sweeping gaze as it falls on Featherpaw then Scorchstreak, wondering if either of them hold her in the same terrible regard or if she's redeemed herself at all in their eyes. She cannot blame them, but her blood runs cold with the fear that its own existence may forever cement her to a life of distrust.

She is unsurprised to hear Granitepelt is still nearby - finding Heathermoon's corpse is a near perfect sign of that. But close enough for his scent to linger long enough for Sootspot to find it again? He's taunting them. He must know his mere existence puts them each on edge. Many speak out about how their claws wish to mar his pelt, to spill his blood. Rattleheart and Firefang both mention Heathermoon and her chest hurts, but she presses her lips together. He would not want to be remembered as a victim, but circumstance has him cemented that way for now.

"They know where camp is," after all, they were once residents here. She rolls her shoulders back, "We should take precaution and reinforce the gorse, just in case."​

 

[SUNNVAR]

"For now, our only concern is to find where Granitepelt rests– the rest of them we will flush with time." His plan beyond that can hardly be called a plan. He wishes nothing more than to tear apart these traitors and scatter their remnants far from the clans in a place where they may not be mourned. Once he had felt guilt for not persuading them. For not being enough to tear them from Sootstar's grasp. Even those that had changed their minds at the last moment were still here, still alive. Now, however. . . if even those that lived within the safety of their camp, ate with them as friends, were not wholly persuaded. . . he cannot imagine how thoroughly embedded they are within their way of life. There is not any space left over for sympathy within his heart. "ShadowClan will be the ones to draw him out. They have his mate, his family. Even the kittens that he had betrayed." Surely they were kits no more. He knows that they were not. "Once we know where their scent leads, we will allow ShadowClan to do what they will."

His paw ruffles Rivepaw, though his expression remains severe and unwavering. "When the time comes, you will fight with the rest of us," he assures. "But Cottonpaw is right. For now, we do what we can to remain safe within our home. Cats are not to leave camp alone for a time. Do not stray out of sight from your patrols. Reinforce camp, and keep kittens from the tunnels." Granitepelt had found his way through the maze, somehow. Never again would he risk losing them to the dark.

⋆°•☁︎ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃  ╱╱ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝗕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 〚 02.11.2024 〛 𖤓

• OOC. —
• 

  SUNSTAR. LEADER OF WINDCLAN.   ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, MOUNTAIN CATS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING RIVEPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ A LARGE, FRESHLY SCARRED CHOCOLATE AND WHITE ROSETTE TABBY TOM WITH SEAGLASS BLUE EYES

• "speech"

​