camp STORYTELLING ╱ ANYTHING GOES ´ˎ˗

[SUNNVAR]

With the stinging of his injuries soothed and the trouble of his journey behind him, Sunstride has felt the new dawn– that he lived to see it is a pleasant enough surprise on its own. Another story to be told once the moons have turned and given distance to pain. He would not miss Vulturemask as he had been. A harsh cat without kindness to spare, or love for his clanmates. With the thoughts of Galeforce and the time behind him, that is where his mind had gone. To love. To the faith he held in those around him, for the closeness they deserved. So many had tried to undermine their trust in one another. They deserve the time to heal it. Outside of battle, they may stretch about in the moorland grass and groom one another's pelts. He seeks it out like little else now. His wounded shoulder is bared to the tall sun, warm beneath the clinging remnants of Wolfsong's healing.

"Heathclaw." The tom is near enough that he can catch his attention– it is with a grin that he rewards a turned gaze. "I imagine there was a time in your life before Gin's group. Before WindClan, as I have known you. I will be stuck here for a while longer– why don't you regale us with a tale of your past? I cannot be the only one who wishes to know what sort of life you have led."

＞ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES REFERENCE 05.28.2023 〙ˊˎ＜

• ooc: tagging @HEATHCLAW. and @silkspin !! not pafp, but please do not double post until heath has a chance to speak <3

• 

• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. approx. 40 moons old. lead warrior of windclan + former rogue.
  —— gay, but somewhat closeted. will not be open about his interests.  single, will be so.
  —— seems comparatively stranger than who he was some moons ago, serious and cool.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.

• "speech"

​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

The last few days had been an exhausting affair for everyone involved, between battles and death and injuries that still needed treatment even now that they were down an official medicine cat. It would be easy to get discouraged - and some part of Rattleheart was, truth be told - but he knew better than to let it consume him. A trait that seemed to be shared by Sunstride, the lead warrior reaching out to those nearby for stories to lift all of their spirits. It was hardly the first time, but the tunneler had never minded it. There were times it was fun to find out about the pasts of those around him that he hadn't grown up with, especially when one needed something to take their mind off of things.

Rattleheart was quick to make his way over after depositing his latest piece of prey into the freshkill pile, settling down nearby and dipping his head in Sunstride's direction. He hoped the golden tom wouldn't mind him listening in, considering he didn't have many stories of his own to offer. Although, he supposed there was a long stretch of time his clanmates didn't know about, back before he and Scorchstreak and Lizardbounce had ever encountered the clans. There were a fair few stories he could tell about then, even if it was occasionally difficult to think of that time before Windclan as truly living. "I wouldn't mind hearing this as well, as long as you're alright with that, Heathclaw." He dipped his head in the moor runner's direction as well, not blaming him if he didn't want to pour his past out to too many of his clanmates.
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[MOORBLOSSOM]

With the waxing and waning of many a moon, Moorpaw has undergone a gradual detachment from certain things which previously caused her distress. Blood, for one, but above all: death. Whereas a younger iteration of the coal-coated apprentice may have tensed up upon seeing crimson, or perhaps feel waves of dizziness at the mere thought of death, she has since come to accept both as formalities in the WindClan way of life. Some folk called this maturing, being able to graze past one's hardships in the pursuit of something greater. Moorpaw, however, wanted to believe it was a positive result of her training, and that she possessed all the makings of an accomplished warrior. Hence, as bloody and barbarous as the preceding moons have been, the girl's heart would beat with a strong cadence, for she knew that every stroke of misfortune her clan endured, it would only mould them into mightier warriors befitting of StarClan's favour.

It boggles her mind to think about just how young WindClan is. That there was once a time before the five clans, wherein colonies roved the swamps and forests, oblivious to the stars' guidance. That she had been blessed in being born into such a formidable clan, whose name stirs fear into their neighbouring group's bellies. When she catches Sunstride's words, asking another warrior of their days before WindClan, her ears flick as her curiosity peaks. White-capped paws dawdle over to the collective of clanmates, circumventing Rattleheart's snowy flank before settling onto her rump. "I wanna hear, too!" Moorpaw chirps, smiling very politely for Heathclaw's comfort. ​

 

[Badgermoon]

Badgermoon was glad that, thus far, no one had ever inquired about his life before WindClan in a public forum. Quite apart from being a mediocre storyteller - especially when compared to the likes of Sunstride or Wolfsong - he had no desire to share any elements of his past with anyone around him. This was in equal parts because he had no wish to revisit those memories and because there was some information best kept private.

Still, he was always interested in hearing about his Clanmates' lives before WindClan, if they felt comfortable enough to share. Though it was increasingly clear to him that someone's background was not necessarily indicative of their fortunes, nor their temperament - some kittypet-born cats became fearsome warriors; some former rogues became faithful and beloved lead warriors. And cats like me end up here. he reflected with a confusing rush of emotions.

The yellow-eyed tomcat edged nearer, white-tipped ears flicking up with curiosity, before leaning back to seat himself near Rattleheart. Perhaps, if his fellow bicolor cat felt amenable, they could share tongues while Heathclaw told his tales.​

 

[Bluepool]

Sunstride was correct in the assumption that he was not alone in wanting to know what Heathclaw's former life had been like. She too often found herself wondering the same, though she was not close enough to the former rogue to try and pry such information out of him for herself. Sunstride, however, was suggesting he offer up this information freely and for a moment she envies the closeness. It is a kind of familiarity that she only really and truly she shares with her sisters.

She settles herself nearby, a short distance away from her monochrome niece, golden eyes settling first of Moorpaw and if she were to catch her gaze she would offer the young apprentice a soft smile and a friendly wink her mouth opening to whisper "Hey kiddo" before she turns those same eyes to the tom in question. Heathclaw. Patiently, she waits to see what the verdict will be. Will he share his secrets or will they be his and his alone?

​

 

[HEATHCLAW.]

Heathclaw is apparently today's victim, assigned storyteller, he supposes to make up for the lack of fighting power he has contributed to the moorland as of late. Often, he wonders if the tom is oblivious to the fact that Heath is unlike him or Wolfsong, able to spin compelling tales with mastery over words or wit. Disaster typically strikes when it is up to Heathclaw to strike something up himself. He is stopped dead in his tracks by the unavoidable call, and to his horror, there were others who for some reason cared about what he had to say. " Um, " comes the elegant reply. " A "tale of my past" ? " he repeats incredulously. Once he was somewhere, now he's not. That's mostly the just of the story.

With a sigh, he figures it'd be worse to answer no then to tell a shabby story. " Don't make it sound exciting, " he grumbles. " Grew up here-ish... Er, or maybe somewhere similar... Traveled around, lost my tail, twoleg took me in– hated it, though, " he quickly adds. Were he secretly of kittypet blood, this would not be the Clan to reveal such a thing to. Nor the crowd, he might add, with looks to Bluepool and Moorpaw. " Uh... Left as soon S' I could, and now I'm here. The end. " He almost says any questions? as if he were a elder with nothing else to do but talk about the days of old, but he didn't really wanna answer any, to be truthful.

OOC INFORMATION

• he's so awkwar
  

• HEATHCLAW: he / him; cisgender male, 45 moons. moor - runner of windclan.
  — bisexual with no clear preference. single.
  — low, rumbling voice with a noticeable, but not overbearing southern drawl.
  — goes with the tides. if loyalty is what will benefit him, so be it. independent but amicable.
  
  — for windclan – a tall and broad chocolate tabby tom with half a tail. Smattered with smaller scars, the most obvious being a sharp cut across his lower jaw and eye, that of which is half-blind. Sharp-jawed with an intense hazeled stare; lost most of his tail due to an incident when he was younger.

​

 

[SUNNVAR]

The others gathered seem to eagerly agree– perhaps with time WindClan would be known for their sagas, passed down one to another in a tale woven through time itself. He would like to see that, he thinks, but not all here are capable of such storytelling. He knows that as he knows most everything else about this clan (that some are crueler than others, that disagreements are to be expected, that not all will think and act the same) yet to see it so aptly placed before him...well, it nearly causes the great warrior to laugh. Heathclaw tells most of his tale in an awkward mumble, stumbling between trails of thought rather than following one to its end. He must not be used to one listening; has he never been well enough encouraged? For a moment, he pities him for that.

Then he understands: that is what he must do now. Sunstride chuckles, but it is not an acidic sound. Not a mockery, but warmth. A quiet encouragement, even as he shakes his head. "A tale," he laughs, "not a summary. Have you never told one, Heathclaw?" If he had not, it was certainly time to learn. "It seems plenty exciting; don't leave it alone! Tell me of your tail, and how that turned out for you. From the beginning. Talk as if you as following your paws, not your own mind." It will come easily enough once he begins. Sunstride is certain of it.

＞ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES REFERENCE 05.28.2023 〙ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. approx. 40 moons old. lead warrior of windclan + former rogue.
  —— gay, but somewhat closeted. will not be open about his interests.  single, will be so.
  —— seems comparatively stranger than who he was some moons ago, serious and cool.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.

• "speech"

​