PAINT THE TOWN RED &. night hunting competition

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

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as the sun finally set within the sky, causing the twinkle of stars overhead, chilledstar made their way out to the force. just earlier within the day, they mentioned that they were holding a bit of a friendly competition, but left no more information other than where to find them– near the burnt sycamore. they pace in wait, watching the stars for a bit before they blink at the sound of cats approaching. hm.

"with leaf fall on the way, we need to better our night hunting skills. what better to do so, than a little competition?"

they purr out almost mischievously, stretching their body before standing on one of the exposed roots, taking a seat and gesturing to the dark forest.

"rules are simple. you hunt, and i judge. winner gets the best prey found. and a bit of kudos for next time. ready? set? hunt."
​

 

[smogstar]

Chilledstar's invitation struck Smogmaw as a summons more than all else. It is but a sworn duty of his to heed whatever bidding the leader sought about—though the tom exercised more caution about what's expected of him, rather than what responsibilities he bore. However marginal, there's very much a distinction between the two.

Languid paws would shuffle through the moonlit marshscape, weaving around low-laying swamp pools and brushing against the reeds that clung to their borderlines. Within a piddling measure of time does he draw near the sycamore, and no sooner is Chilledstar's snow-streaked profile identified amongst the murk. "Sittin' and judgin' while we do all the huntin'," the deputy scoffs as he plods onwards, head yet held in his leader's direction, "what else is new?" Had he a smidgeon more enthusiasm in his words, which may well have been carved from stone given how cold and gravelly they were, perhaps the statement would manifest less as a complaint and more as casual banter. Smogmaw, however, found himself lacking in emotional vividity.

Nevertheless. The briefing was given, interpolated into the grander scheme of the dark-smudged tom's mind, and thus he was off. He isn't among the first to step paw into the miry gloom, rather picking his hunting grounds based on the least-trodden paths.

When all was said, done, pounced, and captured, Smogmaw had amassed two warty frogs, and an egg. Eggs were a scarcity in his prey repertoire, making his find all the more precious. ​

 

[TADPOLEPAW]

Tadpolepaw doesn't really want to partake in a competition when they barely caught their first prey only a few sunrises ago. It'd been a toad, too busy croaking up a storm in the evening to notice them sneaking up behind it, and they pretty much fumbled it to death between their teeth and claws. They don't exactly recall who had pushed them to join: probably Needledrift, or Dragonflypaw, or one of the other apprentices. Someone they couldn't say no to, at any rate, and in a stunning growth of moral backbone, they'd decided to follow through with their agreement.

They lope towards the familiar shape of the Burnt Sycamore, careful not to trip over its roots like the first few times they'd come with their mentor. Maybe their night vision had gotten better, at least a little. The thought cheers them up somewhat. Chilledstar's icy gaze pierces the gloom like a monster's, but Tadpolepaw is a touch more accustomed to it now. Smogmaw's voice rumbles through the little crowd shortly after, a jibe towards his leader that could be lighthearted or gruffly genuine; they can never tell with Smogmaw. Their prompt is quickly issued, and with the dispersing ShadowClanners goes Tad, carried along the dark flow. Maybe they could follow someone and take the prey near them...​

 

[Emberpaw]

As always, the apprentice was drawn to the clear-eyed leader. They were probably her favourite cat in all of Shadowclan, and who could blame her? Chilledstar had found her, saved her, and loved her like their own from day one, as far as she was concerned. The chilly demeanour others knew them by seemed to fade away in her presence, or perhaps the child’s own blinding light of hope shone so bright that it burned through Chilledstar’s fog well enough that she simply ignored the fact that it was there at all. Whatever the case, when the leader wasn’t doing “leader only” things, and she wasn’t otherwise occupied, she wanted to spend time with them.

As she listened in to their words, she concurred that this wouldn’t exactly be a family outing, but she was excited nonetheless. This was a game! A chance to have some fun, and Emberpaw always jumped at such chances. Her excitement was not entirely pure, however. For one, she was extremely new at being an apprentice. She had been out through the whole territory a pawful of times, and she had never truly hunted before. Ribbitleap had shown her how the techniques worked in theory, but in practice? She’d never caught so much as a butterfly. Thats okay though. It can’t be that hard, right? Other apprentices do it every day, it’s how we feed the clan! I just have to go out there, and not get lost. In all honesty, getting lost was far higher on her list of concerns than figuring out how to catch prey.

Emberpaw left with the rest of them, but on the return she lagged noticeably. She did not return with the warriors, or even most of the apprentices. There was a chance she was last to return entirely. But return she did, and by her body language it appeared she had found a miracle. Ears forward, tail and head held high, Emberpaw bounded back into the clearing with eyes that glowed with the moon’s pale light. Padding through the returned cats, she found a spot to settle in. Carefully, a hint of pride in her gentle arrangements, the molly set down her catch. Catches. The first was mottled in colour, it’s bright body peppered black and white. The second was smaller, perhaps half the size of the first, but it blazed yellow like the absent sun.

Emberpaw looked up from the two moths she had cheerfully presented, glancing around at the other successes. She caught sight of Smogmaw’s catch, and her eyes grew wide into twin pale green moons. Woah. Admiration sparked through her fur. One day, I’ll be as great a hunter as he is! Only the stars above knew just how true, or untrue, her thoughts would become.

 

[Maggotfur.]

🕱 NO I DON'T MIND YOU ARE A BEAUTY 🕱

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maggotpaw & 09 moons & female & she/her & shadowclan apprentice​

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Maggotpaw is never one to back down from a challenge - especially not one involving food. Of course, the prey is only being hunted now, not eaten... but that hardly matters in the molly's mind. Instead, the blue furred feline slips off n purposeful paws, heading as far from the others as she can manage without worrying that she won't return in time. Under her mentors watchful gaze, she prowls the marshlands - one creature after another falling to her paws until ultimately, she grows bored and returns. A fat pigeon hangs loosely in her jaws, wet with mud and whatever marshland ick they've picked up, and two lizards join it soon after - it would be three, her mentor muses, except the girl had eaten one mid hunt. A shame, really.

— not temptation, you're my creation ♛

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: rolled a 3/4 for number of prey; and a 20 on quality of prey
  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