camp SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES ✮⋆˙ ☆ omen

[STARCLAN]

The first light of leaf-bare's dawn filters weakly through the pine branches and casts long, cold shadows over the camp. The usual scents of damp earth and sharp pine needles that ShadowClanners are used to are overpowered by something far worse when they awaken this morning. A thick, sour stench hangs heavily in the air, curling under the nostrils of the first cats to stir from their nests. It's a smell of decay, a scent that turns the stomach and warns of rot. One by one, warriors and apprentices alike blink awake, pausing as they inhale deeply. Many eyes narrow in confusion and discomfort. There is no wind today, leaving the air in camp terribly still and thick, which only seems to make the smell worse. Something is wrong. Terribly wrong.

Upon stepping out of their dens, the cats will see why. The fresh-kill pile, meager in the dead of the cold season, is what reveals the full extent of the horror. The once-fresh rats, shrews, and birds, each caught with care in the bitter freeze overnight, are now bloated and putrid. Their pelts are matted, swollen with rot, and the once-delicious meat is now grayish and mushy, exuding the unmistakable stench of death. With flies buzzing lazily around the pile, their wings cause a dull, ominous hum as they gather on the carcasses.

The cats edge closer to the grotesque scene, but none dare approach the pile. Even the bravest warriors recoil, their stomachs twisting at the sight and smell. The fur along their spines bristles in unease as the feeling of dread thickens like a fog in the camp. A few apprentices glance nervously toward the warriors, their eyes wide with fear as their quickening breaths cloud in the frigid air. The usual morning bustle is utterly absent…no one is arguing over the best pieces of prey, no one is sharing stories of the previous day's hunting or patrolling. Instead, the camp is weighed down by a horrid sense of foreboding. Every cat feels it now, the oppressive energy that hangs over them. Is this an omen from StarClan? A warning? The stillness lingers as they wait tensely for something or someone to break the silence, for any sign of what has caused this terrible disturbance.
​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

Within the Medicine Cat's den, Sharpshadow rouses to the scent of death, wafting thick. It's enough to break the Medicine den's typical spell of keeping her groggy and unwilling to move. Her eyes push open with start, and shoulders still aching, she looks around with eyes blown wide, fearing the worst. ShadowClan wasn't herb-rich. No... Sharpshadow's learned that about ten times over, it feels, within the past few moons. It's far from impossible, far from unthinkable that overnight, something had... happened. ShadowClan was blessed with half a Medicine Cat, after all.

But no... There are rising and falling flanks around her still. Those on the track to recovery alongside her still seemed to be the way— not as if she had been Starlingheart's apprentice. Anyone in here could be a sunrise away from death, for all she really knew. But as she blinks away the sleep and her senses clear, it seems more and more obvious the scent wasn't Medicine den bound... " ...Good StarClan, " she croaks, her voice ragged. Her nose twists her face into something uglier than usual. There's a faint burning in her lungs. Sharpshadow glances around for any similar reactions... in particular, seeks out Marbleleaf's gaze. " What is that? "

 

[Briarthorn]

.·:*¨༺🕷༻¨*:·. Her thin lull of slumber is broken by the churning of Briarthorn's stomach- though not spurred by the warriors usual morning hunger, but nausea. Waking with an instinctive groan, the ebony warrior rises from her nest with her sharp features already soured. "What is that?" The prickly warrior practically spits, letting herself be pulled away from her nest and outside of the warriors den with grotesque curiosity.

Against all odds, the crisp morning air is somehow worse than the warriors den, swollen with an unholy stench that makes Briarthorn's whiskers quiver. Immediately, her hazel hues are drawn towards the grisly remains of what was once the Clans fresh-kill pile. As she dares to draw closer, unease prickles like fire against Briarthorns spine, rippling along the feathered fur that lined her back. "Stars…" she breathed, though her mutterings are washed away with the rest of the clans whispered horror.

Stunned silence grips ShadowClan, and Briarthorn's gaze instinctively begins to search for Marbleleaf's pale pelt, hoping to seek solace in the medicine cat's knowledge; because this wasn't natural, it couldn't be- could it? Had mother nature turned against them, or was the graphic scene before them the will of their StarClan? For once, the quiet is worse than clamor- though Briarthorn wouldn't be the one to break it. No, it's Sharpshadow who speaks first, loud enough to draw Briarthorn's gaze to him. "That can't be natural." The younger warrior responds, finally turning away from the stomach-turning scene. StarClan help us all.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── KEEP YOUR DEMONS ⋅ ࿏ ⋅ ON A LEASH ──┐‎

• 

• 
  BRIARTHORN ꔫ she/her, warrior of shadowclan, 12 moons.
  ⭃ slender, lean-muscled black she-cat with sharp hazel eyes & large ears.
  ⭃ daughter of Forestshade && Vulturemask ࿏ sister to Screechpaw && Sweetpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

[/font]​

 

[Swansong]

⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ It is terrible and beautiful, and it is everything that Swansong has been waiting for. The stench of rot suffocates ShadowClan's camp, still and putrid. Death, plain to see. Their food wastes and withers. The spirits have spoken, and they speak with anger in their breathless throats.

Swansong can only stare, transfixed. She cannot despair, cannot rage. She is frozen. As others furrow their brows in confusion, draw away from the fetid prey-pile, the ghostly warrior only draws closer. "They speak..." she breathes shakily, a choked feeling in her throat. "The stars..." Her paws - creeping closer to the rotting mass - hardly feel her own, her voice even less so. Is this what StarClan has to say to them, finally? Is this all the guidance they have to give? More suffering, more punishment, when they have already suffered so much? When will it end?

"Rot in our home..." The warrior's choked words slowly raise, voice wobbly and monotone. Her breaths come gasping. "The dead, they speak... They speak, because we have angered them," she rambles to herself as panic claws its way up her throat, eyes wide and distant. She seems to stare through the prey pile, not at it. "It is... a punishment..." And what better way to make ShadowClan listen than hunger? Starvation is the language of the marshes.

"Something is wrong," they gasp, finally breaking their gaze to dart unfocused eyes around the camp. "Oh, something is very, very wrong..." And it has been for a long time. ShadowClan has always been cursed, and if things don't change soon then they will all be left rotting with their prey.

I FELL ASLEEP WITH A VISION ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ AND I ALMOST PULLED IT THROUGH‎

• 
  
  

  "SPEECH"

• 
  SWANSONG ☾ she / they, warrior of shadowclan, 22 moons.
  ★ a pale, silky-furred cream tabby with tired blue eyes.
  ★ dreamy and detached, known for her perpetual sleepiness.
  ★ halfshade x smogstar, littermate to applejaw, garlicheart, & ashenfall.
  ★ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ★ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

​

 

[lostpaw]

lostpaw was not a believer in starclan. it was hard to be when she had been raised in an environment where faith had to be put in oneself, completely, to survive. the cats of the junkyard didn't have the luxury of hoping and praying to their ancestors, not when mothers died before weaning their kits and littermates betrayed each other for a scrap.

it wasn't a topic she broached with her clanmates, though for all appearances she had assimilated well, giving a thoughtless thanks for her food, raising her eyes to the stars.

but now, seeing the rot -- well, tragedies could breed more faith than miracles.

the young apprentice approached next to her clanmates with horror in her eyes. "what..." the unspoken question faded into a whisper, as if by not voicing the thought she could refute what had happened.

｡:ﾟ.°✧ PLEASE DONT LET THEM SEE ME

• ooc.

• LOSTPAW (she/her) is a six moon old shadowclan apprentice with shorthair cream tabby fur with low white and blue-green eyes. she is the gen1 daughter of two rogue npc's.
  
  TAGS. penned by riyue. dm me on discord (xriyue) for plots.​

​

 

[BUZZARDPAW.]

I SAW A PHOTO, YOU LOOK JOYOUS​

---

buzzardpaw is not one to think about anything starclan has to say. the stars, however, are a different story. they always map the correctness in things, and she does know this. the stars are upset. as she finally wakes from her nest, her stomach is growling more than usual. she finally lifts her head only to smell rot far more than what's normal, even for a shadowclanner. her ears twitch as she comes out of the den, standing beside swansong listening to her ramble. something in there is right. the stars are angry.

"the st...ars are pun...ishing us."

he says, though there is no fear, anger, or sadness in his tone. he is simply stating what he sees. he investigates further, the bloated prey making his head turn off to the side. his paw reaches and with just the brush of his own fur to its rotting body, it falls apart, guts spilling all over into his fur and on his face. it was gross, even for him, but he only wipes the filth from him, barely holding back his nausea.

"rotted c...orpses. what am i s...upposed to eat, now?"
​

 

[BOUNCEPAW]

Bouncepaw pokes one of the bloated rats with an extended claw, a disgusted look spread out across her face. "Eww, they're all squishy." She groans, sticking her tongue out to further amplify her disgust.

Sharpshadow seeks out Marbleleaf with his gaze but instead receives answers from his Clanmates who foretell that StarClan is displeased with them. Bouncepaw hadn't even thought this had anything to do with StarClan, prey rotted all the time, well—maybe not in the same manner these ones had… It was a little weird… but she had been ready to accept they had all just gone bad over night. Was StarClan really displeased with ShadowClan? What could they have possibly done wrong?

Bouncepaw just knows one thing: she does not want to be the apprentice in charge of cleaning up this mess. Without a word she silently backs away from the freshkill pile and hurries to hide at the outskirts of camp. She'll show herself again once she knows she's safe from being chosen for the grotesque task.

OOC: OUT LOL unless someone goes after her / sees her anyways​

ღ

BOUNCEPAW . BIOGRAPHY / TOYHOU.SE
✦ female (she / her) / heterosexual, single
✦ 7 moons old / ages realistically, every 1st of the month
✦ apprentice of ShadowClan
✦ Myrtlefoot x Bristletooth / littermate to Juniperkit
✦ mentored by Batchaser
✦ penned by ava / message av.a on discord for plots!

Bouncepaw is a warm, brown she-cat with black tabby markings caging her fur. She has a broad muzzle and big, cream colored paws. White fur cascades from her chin and flows all the way down to pool at her underbelly. She has big, owlish, hazel eyes.

 

[STONESTRIKE]

Stonestrike woke to the movement of others. The stale scent of rot lingered heavy in the air. Nose wrinkled, he rose to join the others. The sight was grotesque, nearly making him gag. What in StarClan's name... Those around shared their own similar thoughts of disgust. Particularly Briarthorn's "That can't be natural," struck him. She was definitely right.

Selfishly, the lilac tom couldn't help but feel a bit slighted. The fresh pride of being a new warrior, sullied mere days after his ascension. What could it mean, their prey suddenly and spontaneously rotting to the core? Bouncepaw had the gall to touch one of them. Better her than him, at least. "Ugh..." he muttered. "How is that even possible?" he added then, louder than before. He kept a healthy distance from the rotten pile. Then, he remembered something. He looked to Ternstar emerging from her den. Wasn't she renamed? The thought chilled him. "Maggots..." he muttered again. He wasn't going to openly accuse her of anything, he was no fool. But the whole thing was... unsettling.

killer in the mirrorㅤ ✧.* ˚ · .ㅤINFO.ㅤ/ㅤ02/05/2025

• ooc: text "speech"
• 
  ■■■■■■■ ✶ stonepaw. apprentice of shadowclan ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆｡𖦹°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
  ╰┈➤ㅤamab tom, he/him | heterosexual, single
  ╰┈➤ㅤ12 moons old | ages every 3rd
  ╰┈➤ㅤwarrior, skilled in battle | mentoring none
  ╰┈➤ㅤSH lilac with low white
  ╰┈➤ㅤclose with Agaterain, Plumwhisker, Marbleleaf
  ╰┈➤ㅤwritten by Twitchtail/iliawonders, ic opinions | n/a‎

​

 

[SINGEGLARE]

*+:｡.｡ Singeglare was not the superstitious type. After all, if you believed in the existence of foes you couldn't touch, that'd be labeling yourself a loser by proxy, right? Although he couldn't disprove Starclan's existence, his clanmates' faith in them felt more like clinging to kitten tales than real historical lore. He couldn't say he blamed them. How often had he stared at...that spot in the center of camp and hoped that there was another side out there? One where he could...
Well, if Starclan was real, how unfair was it that they couldn't visit them but they could fuck up their food whenever they liked?

"I'm becoming more and more convinced that Starclan is full of a bunch of jerks" Singeglare would snarl, refusing to acknowledge the thrum of discomfort rolling up and down his spine. As badly as he wished to write this event off as a mistake - perhaps the prey had sat there longer than they'd all thought (because collective time-blindness makes more sense, apparently), he couldn't. After all, that particular frog there he remembered catching himself the night before. Last he checked, when he'd sunk his fangs into the leathery meat it had been fresh and warm. He's sure he would've remembered if it'd been withering on the brink of mold.

Licking his lips only to regret it a moment later when he could practically taste the rot in the air, Singeglare would instead choose to spit on the ground beside his paws. Defiant against the smell, against the rot, against the very message Starclan had to say.
But the ground was by no means close to a face.

Once more, as voices rise all around him, whimpering in fear and confusion, Singeglare is left feeling helpless. A sticky feeling, like the very maggots feasting on their breakfast and dinner, had eaten their fill and now squirmed their way into the flesh beneath his own skin and fur. Against his will, he shivers. It only infuriates him more.

"WELL!?" he snarls, whirling on those around, gawking as though there's nothing else in the world any of them can do to avoid the same fate as their kills - Fuck that! "Are we going to get rid of this fox-dung or build a shrine to it?" His boiling blue eyes trace Sharpshadow's form with all the passion of a flame held up against an abyssal void, refusing to let the deputy shy away from her duties - do something! He's sick of this uncertainty - this lack of control!

And yet, for all hid judgment...he has no clue how to proceed, either.

Frustration tastes like rot on his tongue.

Why are you doing this to us, Starclan? Chilledstar?

*°:⋆ₓₒ ☄ Updated 12/28/24

• 
  
• "Speech"
  
• 
  
  
  
  GENERAL:
  ☄ Singeglare
  ☄ Cismale — He/him — Heterosexual
  ☄ 13 moons
  ☄ NPC x Duckshimmer (brother to Swallowflutter, Sneezeduck)
  ☄ Shadowclan — warrior
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ☄ Physically medium | mentally somewhat easy
  ☄ Attack inbold #b8312f
  injuries: none
  

​

 

[sneezeduck]

The stench of death lingers thick in the air as Sneezeduck emerges wearily from the warrior's den, wrinkling his nose. He sees it just as the others do - the rotted corpses of their fresh-kill pile, tainted with something sinister that only the stars could cast upon. As he ventures forward, examining the gory scene, his pelt prickles horribly. This cannot be..

Swansong speaks his thoughts, confirming his very fears - and loathed as he is to admit such a revelation, he agrees. Amber eyes trail to the serenely pale molly, then return back to their rotted supply. Rot in our home. The curse that he'd always been aware of makes itself apparent in full. Sneezeduck feels a hitch in his breath as Swansong deciphers it, for there is no other explanation. It is what he had always expected and feared.

"What have we done?" the boy croaks, to no one in particular. Was it the skirmish at ThunderClan's border? The infighting? The swift change in leaders? Were they punishing ShadowClan for failing to care for those that left? Was ShadowClan not as swift in enacting revenge as Siltcloud alluded to? Was I too late? he thinks pitifully. Too late to protect his loved ones.

Sneezeduck opens his mouth to ask for Marbleleaf, but not before his brother appears to the scene, all fury and confidence as always. The chocolate tabby shifts uncomfortably on his paws in Singeglare's presence, feeling a well of distaste grow in his heart. Whatever it was with him lately, Sneezeduck couldn't find the strength to force himself to agree with Singeglare anymore. Not when StarClan speaks so plainly infront of them, and when Singeglare so openly opposes them.

"Could you just... just be serious for one minute?" the boy suddenly snaps, whirling to face his brother with a frustrated, pleading glare. "StarClan does not punish without reason. They know things we don't." All they've ever done was for ShadowClan's benefit; they gave them a strong leader after their hardships, blessed Marbleleaf with her name.. they even trained Sneezeduck himself to protect his family. They couldn't be.. malicious.

"Maybe it's not a punishment anyhow. Maybe it's a warning." A rot in ShadowClan, like Swansong said. Sneezeduck's mind whirls with thoughts that terrify him. What is this rot? If not a what, then.... who?

WISH AWAY THE NIGHTMAREㅤ ✩ ☾ㅤINFO.ㅤ/ㅤ12/28/2024

• ooc: text
• 
  ■■■■■■ ✶ sneezeduck. warrior of shadowclan. ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆｡𖦹°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
  ☾ㅤamab cis male, he/him | undiscovered sexuality, single.
  ☾ㅤ15 moons old | ages every 2nd. created 2/5/2024
  ☾ㅤa young warrior, inexperienced in most things. | mentored by sharpshadow
  ☾ㅤLH chocolate tabby (carrying cinnamon, dilute)
  ☾ㅤunknown xx duckshimmer | brother to singeglare and swallowflutter
  ☾ㅤclose with marblepaw
  ☾ㅤwritten by ixora, ic opinions | tags‎

​

 

[Ternstar.]

TW for slightly morbid and graphic language/depictions of the prey/bodies.

TELL YOU YOU'RE THE GREATEST
BUT ONCE YOU TURN, THEY HATE US ​

---

Ternstar ♛ 26 Moons ♛ Female ♛ She/Her ♛ Leader of Shadowclan

---

​

★★★★★★★★★

—— Its the scent that catches her attention first - stomach churning, moreso than any carrionplace visit or piece of carrion glued to the thunderpath. Bitter bile coats her tongue as she hauls herself to her paws, joining the rest of the waking world in emerging from her den, eyes quickly finding the pile of rot. It's unnatural, i is - her mind echoing Briarthorn. Whispers begin, as cats stumble over themselves to speak - and yet it is Swansong that catches her attention, Ternstar tilting her head at the words.

' They speak...The stars... Something is wrong,'

Pressing forwards, Ternstar is quick to join those gathered at the pile of festering corpses - watching idly as Buzzardpaw pokes and prods, shaking his paw of the filth that spews forth. " Starclan speaks, " she agrees, her voice soft and cold - and eyes flicker unwillingly to Sharpshadow. She wonders if this is their penance - they had not fought for what they had, and now Starclan has taken away what was left.

'Are we going to get rid of this fox-dung or build a shrine to it?'

" Those who are skilled in hunting, gather swiftly. All warriors are to prioritize hunting -small groups, spread out. With any luck, we will find... something" she says. " Queens, keep your kits away from the pile... Everyone else, come help - we cannot allow this to remain here. We will bring predators to our home, if not sickness. We must be rid of all of it - burry it where it cannot harm us, " She does not wait for the others to move, carefully picking up the nearest piece of crowfood, as Sneezeduck's words reach her ear with a shiver.

' Maybe it's not a punishment anyhow. Maybe it's a warning. '

Perhaps - perhaps a warning is better then having drawn Starclans wrath, as doubtful as she is of the toms words. But still... a warning of what? Eyes narrow pon her deputy once more, before she turns - padding forwards, the first of many, many trips she knows will be needed.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

---

E V E R Y B O D Y - W A N T S - T O - B E - M Y - E N E M Y

---

 

[SCREECHSTORM]

✦ㅤ─ㅤ The smell of rot stirs Screechstorm from his sleep, and evidently, as he shifts between clanmates leaving their shared den, he isn't the only one. It is strong, stomach churning — the warrior feels like he might fall ill with each step toward emergence from under the bramble bush. Either someone died, or... someone brought back carrion well past its experation.

" It wasn't me — " he finds himself making excuses at Briarthorn's side before he can even see the damage. Everything he'd brought back last night had been freshly caught (and in perfect condition too, if he could say so himself). Murmurs of horror from his sister and their fellow clanmates reach his ears as he spots the state of the fresh-kill pile. He blinks in confusion, in shock. " What...? "

This can't be right. Everything — everything he'd brought back, everything surrounding it — is rotted, bloated and inedible. Festering like it'd been sitting there for moons.

And while his connection with the stars is minimal compared to some of his clanmates' strong-willed beliefs, he finds himself wondering too at their word.

Had they done something wrong for StarClan to smite them? A punishment, a warning — he doesn't know which, doesn't find himself keen on debating either side with the stench in the air filling his lungs (how long would it be, before they too face the fresh-kill pile's fate?). That can't be natural, his sister says. It's the only thing he can find himself agreeing to.

Ternstar's voice cuts through the fear-trodden atmosphere, and Screechstorm finds himself dread-filled at how busy his day's about to be. All his hard work, gone! Though, who's to say his next set of catches won't meet the same demise? Who's to say StarClan won't repeat this process over and over again, until ShadowClan understands the means of their actions? He'll be hunting for ages all over again, but at least he'll be away from the camp's wretched state.

[ SCREECHSTORM ]ㅤ

BIOGRAPHYㅤ⋅ㅤTOYHOUSE

✦

Named after his birth-given warning cry, Screechstorm appears in shadowed tones — save for splotches of orange that litter his left side. His mismatched green gaze almost always carries a mischievous glint, a crooked grin in tandem. Scars wrack his sides, a harsh reminder of his near-reckless nature.

⋅ He / Him ⋅ Single
⋅ Warrior of ShadowClan
⋅ Forestshade x ???
⋅ Brother to Briarthorn, Sweetpaw †
⋅ Mentoring no one ⋅ Mentored by Chilledstar †
⋅ Penned by Abri ⋅ Message _abri_ on discord for plots!

 

[Giggleflower]

The scent of death is something that has always haunted ShadowClan, lurking at the edges of their periphery, but today as Giggleflower rises from her newly-instated nest in the warriors' den, death has decided to make itself known center-stage. She peers past Briarthorn and a few other warriors, ears pricked as she takes in the messages that each cat infers from the mess that was once their fresh-kill pile. The sight of it is enough to get Giggleflower to avert her eyes, and as she shuffles back, pressing a paw over her nose, she can feel tears starting to leak from the corners of her eyes.

She wants to impulsively believe that this is some sort of warning or sign of damnation in the same way her fellow Clanmates do, but she knows the only ones that can confirm that are Ternstar and Marbleleaf. Her cousin will surely know what's going on, why they all woke to the terrifying sight of maggot-filled little bellies - communing with StarClan is part of Marbleleaf's job, after all, and even as Ternstar speaks, Giggleflower wants to hear from her kin to see if there's more to be interpreted.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OOC ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ INFO ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• !

• 

• GIGGLEFLOWER ✩ warrior of shadowclan, eleven moons
  → blinks incessantly & uncontrollably.
  → peaceful and healing powerplay permitted.
  → penned by Archivist → .archivist on discord.

​

 

[MILKBRIAR]

Words cannot even come close to describing the putrid smell that encompassed the fresh-kill pile. Milkbriar eyes the bloated prey, oozing with filth and rot. We must be rid of all of it - bury it where it cannot harm us. The thought of even being near the rotting corpses made his stomach churn, but he closed his eyes and attempted to push past his disgust. "Perhaps we could get a few member to dig holes? Might be easier to dispose of our... gift from StarClan... a little quicker." In all honesty, he thought more of passing their gift onto another group, but kept his trap shut after figuring now was not the time to be speaking like so. Besides, he was already beginning to think about where else they could even bury the sludge, and how much they're going to have to be hunting to replenish their stock. Frustration twisted in his belly, though it might have just been the smell finally breaking through his thoughts.

 

[MARBLELEAF]

MARBLELEAF

SHE / THEY ◆ SHADOWCLAN MEDICINE CAT

The Clan awakens to the scent of death. Carrion-scent lies in thick, tattered strips outside Marbleleaf's den; when she opens her mouth, she can taste it, fuzzy and foul, on her tongue. She licks her lips multiple times, half-wondering if she'd dreamt with Siltcloud and forgotten about it… but no, because Sharpshadow has smelled it too; the deputy heaves himself from his sickbed and pads outside the den, his ears flat with distrust. Marbleleaf follows her; her pelt begins to spike with the uncertainty. Did someone bring crowfood home? Surely just one piece wouldn't cause the whole camp to smell like that, she thinks.

The entire camp has risen, now, from Ternstar to the warriors to the apprentices and queens. Marbleleaf slips through the crowd, her eyes blowing wide with horror at the sight of the fresh-kill pile. Every piece had been caught fresh the day before, and the cold should have preserved it — but each bit of prey is bloated with rot. Their soft bellies have sloughed away to reveal maggots crawling in the putrid remnants. Marbleleaf quells a visceral gag, forcing her stomach to remain calm.

Some of her Clanmates, though, have begun to leap to conclusions. Swansong's eerie voice cuts through the rest, claiming this is a punishment of sorts. Sneezeduck's response is to ask what ShadowClan has done to anger StarClan so. She can see Stonestrike's flinching reaction as he mutters, "Maggots…"

But she feels several pairs of eyes on her now. Marbleleaf sways on their paws, dizzy. Stars, I'm supposed to know what this means. She meets every hopeful gaze with alarm. I'm supposed to reassure them that everything's okay.

She swallows; her throat is dry. "We… we have no reason to think StarClan is angry with us, or that they're punishing us," she insists. Her moss-colored eyes fall back toward the bloated pile. "But this is a sign. About what, I'm not sure yet." She licks her lips again, willing the taste of decay to leave her mouth. Starlingheart, are you with me now? What should I do?

"I will work with Ternstar to figure out what this means," she promises her Clan, even as Ternstar snaps out orders to rid the camp of the rotten prey. "Don't be alarmed. StarClan speaks to us in mysterious ways." It's easy to say, she knows, but who wouldn't be alarmed — especially ShadowClan, so used to misery, oft-placated with grief and anger?

ooc:

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Marbleleaf is the ShadowClan medicine cat. She is thin, with a short fawn tabby pelt; the base color is a dull, almost-gray slate, and the whorling classic stripes are deeper shades of wet sand. She has white facial markings, chest, and paws, an angular face and build, and moss-colored eyes.

Lilacfur x Siltcloud / sibling to Sycamorebloom / mate to none / parent to none
mentored by Starlingheart / mentoring none
13 moons old as of 02/01/2025

penned by Marquette

 

[Amberhaze]

AMBERHAZE

HE/HIM SHADOWCLAN LEAD WARRIOR

Amberhaze woke to the sound of his own retching, the sensation of sour bile burning holes into his esophagus as his stomach churned like a river's roiling tide. The scent which permeated the air trapped itself within the confined space of the warrior's den, poisoning the lungs of everyone who was unfortunate enough to be resting within. Unfortunately, they would not be granted the mercy of fresh air even upon their exit, bodies flocking outside into the open in a desperate attempt to wash away the sickening sin of rot growing all the more restless...and afraid.

Amberahaze's world stilled as he approached the pile of what was once meant to be prey, able to sustain them for at least a few more insufferable Leafbare days...but had now been reduced to a pile of sticky sludge, a mismatch of dulled colors melting together into one putrid amalgamation as they rapidly succumbed to decay. The scent was unimaginable, the visual making Amberhaze's nausea all that much worse- images of what he longed to bury within the catacombs of his mind would resurface at the sight- how similar it all looked to the scene which had marked his untimely rebirth.

He didn't stick around to mingle with his clanmates, for what might very well be the first time ever, he did not care what this meant- not for the clan, not for himself, not for the whole forest- he couldn't bear the sight and smell any longer. He would allow his widened, sightless eyes to sweep the camp before pelting out of it entirely, carelessly barreling through their reinforced entrance walls with a crash. Amberhaze did not stop running, the cold wind which buffeted his teary face like claws doing little to deter him from his aimless route. There was no destination in mind, the only phrase he had to hold onto in his head being to simply get away. The world was ending all over again, the long promised end times finally rearing it's ugly head when he had finally begun to consider the possibility that it was baseless- that he was only crazy, and nothing more.

Finally, trembling limbs would give out, the initial adrenaline that fueled him seeping away into the marshland peat beneath his unsteady paws. Coming to a halt in the middle of the marsh's muddied heart, his cheat would heave in an attempt to take in the air of which it was deprived of. The tom would be granted only a singular fire laced breath before vomit spewed from a dribbling maw, his body rigid as his neck craned forward. Every muscle and brittle bone was seemingly locked from stress, and he could not hold back the sob that followed.

ooc:

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Amberhaze is a black oriental shorthair crossed with a cornish rex. He has a sickly looking build with a rat-like tail and unnaturally wide ocher eyes.

npc x npc / sibling to wormwatcher / other kin unknown
mentored by wormwatcher / mentoring lostpaw
20 moons old as of 02/21/2025

penned by sloane

 

[Silentkit]

Silentkit

Status: Surprised, Confused

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The one they had dubbed Silentkit, was dragged from restless sleep by the stench of decay and death. Was it time then? Was this how it ended? He stumbled blurry eyed into the open air with the pack trailing after him, the ones awake anyway. He froze at the site before him. This den of ghosts and shadows surrounded a pile of putrid, decaying prey. Rotten food left out in the sun. He was confused though. He had seen that pile yesterday and it was fine. Fresh even. What could have caused this? He tensed as his eyes swept the surrounding figures, ears perked to pick up the conversations, words spoken of a punishment or warning from a.. Starclan? What is this Starclan they speak of? Is that their rulers? The ones that decree we must die? He warily shoved himself back into the pack, particularly towards the pale one. The one they had dubbed Rotkit. If they blame the pale one for the name they gave it.. He growled lowly under his breath. He would not let them harm his packmate, even if it hastened his rapidly approaching death.
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Louder The Bark ☣────☣────☣ The Bigger The Blade

• OOC:
• Silentkit - Male Black Smoke with Yellow Eyes ☣ He/Him ☣ Shadowclan Kit ☣ Penned by Snowy ☣ 5 moons
  ☣ Contact TimelordSnowy on Discord for plotting
  ☣ Sibling to TBDkit, Rotkit, TBDkit, Pupkit
  ☣ "Speech"
  ☣ Thoughts
  
  

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