YOU'LL BECOME A LEGEND — shadowclan patrol

[GRANITEPELT]

◇────────────【☆】★【☆】────────────◇​

XXXXXGranitepelt leads his first patrol—and it’s as one of ShadowClan’s lead warriors. In a hasty, delirium-glazed meeting, Chilledstar had cast Ferndance aside and thrust Granitepelt into a position of power he’d never dared dream he could be in. Even as a kit, Granitepelt’s dreams of power had been limited to getting revenge on the cats who’d wronged him. Boneripple had fled to RiverClan to live amongst traitors and fish-eaters, Briarstar had been flattened on the Thunderpath, and Pitchstar had died with reddish bubbles on his detested lips. After them had come a slew of others who’d met various misfortunes—Ghostpaw, Tornadopaw, Poppypaw, even Halfshade, thank StarClan—and it’s he who stands victorious. He leads his Clan now along the Thunderpath, head filled with dreams of glory.

XXXXX“Wait,” he orders his patrol, tasting the air. Through the stench of monster fumes and ThunderClan, he detects something… off. Odd. There’s rogue-scent, to be sure, unmistakably non-Clan and thick with crowfood, but there’s something else, too, and it causes his smooth gray brow to furrow.

XXXXX“Is that…” He screws his muzzle up. “WindClan scent? Are they invading ThunderClan?” He remembers Sootstar’s dismissal of Howlingstar’s Clan of noble do-gooders. They’ve gotten in my way too many times. Surely, if WindClan is on ThunderClan territory, it’s an assault—right?...

XXXXXHe turns to his apprentice and patrolmates, green eyes narrowed in thought.

─────────​

@RIBBITLEAP @fleabounce @Scorchedpaw @APPLEPAW but no need to wait!
​

 

[Scorchedmoon]

Scorchedpaw wasn’t exactly thrilled to see Granitepelt promoted, much less assigned to go on a patrol with him. Even if he hasn’t been personally wronged, the green eyed tom is the exact opposite of him. Cold and composed. He doesn’t find himself being sapped of his energy by just anyone, and any cat where Scorchedpaw feels he has to close himself off is not company he enjoys. But he would not be arguing with his sick leader just because he feels off about a particular cat. Who is now above him even more than before. Sigh…

He stops when ordered, wide eyes blinking before taking a sniff for himself. He catches on to the more familiar scents first of course, before the oddities hit him as well. WindClan scent being here is nothing to be concerned about, but it’s powerful. How many were here? When Granitepelt suggests that they came to invade, he thinks about it, and it’s possible. Even when the odds are stacked against them, WindClan sure does love to stumble into trouble…but he can’t be sure.

“That might be the reason, I wouldn’t exactly put it past Sootstar... But maybe it has to do with the rogues? Might have demanded food from ThunderClan or something,” Scorchedpaw offers. Seeing as the rogues are getting more bold, and their stench is heavy here, it’s another idea. “You’d think there would be a stronger whiff of blood in the air if it was a scuffle, yeah?”​

 

[fleabounce]

Fleabounce follows at the patrol's heels in her distinctive step-step-hop. She's in a dour mood that doesn't touch her stride or slant her shoulders, but it does curve her large ears backwards. Another trip to the border, the scents and the sights worn into her mind as the stretches she wakes herself with. Pain, sharp enough to be distracting but not enough to be slowing, has settled with the chill over her lower back. There is no amount of change that can remove the typicality of the routine from Fleabounce's mind.

She nearly step-step-hops her way into Scorchpaw's backside, corrects herself before she can collide with him, and for what is likely the first time since starting this patrol, takes in her surroundings with any amount of interest.

Scorchpaw is talking — likely responding to something Granitepelt has said, but a glance Granitepelt's way reveals nothing more. Her focus comes back to Scorchpaw, and understanding meets her somewhere distant. It's the trouble in having half, or less than half, of the conversation, but Fleabounce has her nose just as well, and Scorchpaw has given her enough to guess what Granitepelt must have said. Something about the WindClan scent on what was decidedly not their border, something about the unusualness of it all — speculation without confirmation of a fight.

"Even if it is a scuffle, it isn't our concern," Comes her plucked and careful voice, "Although the mind struggles to come up with any alternatives to a scuffle. I have my doubts that ThunderClan would invite WindClan for a friendly visit."​

SHADOWCLAN WARRIOR ▫ CHOCOLATE TORTOISESHELL WITH AN UNUSUALLY SHORT TAIL

LOW HEARING ▫ 81 MOONS ▫ TAGS​

■■■■■​

 

[BURNSTORM]

Shadowed paws lead to a border of hot asphalt. Of roaring monsters with lights like tiny suns. His apprentice was old enough to know to stay away from the verge but still he turns and regards the brown tom with golden eyes "Stick close to me" he says. It still feels strange, having an apprentice who was once his den-mate, one who was so close in age to him but it does help that he is a lead warrior now. He would still be giving Falconpaw orders regardless of if he was his apprentice or not. Falconpaw just got extra orders from him is all.

ShadowClan was not his favorite place to patrol, but it also was not his most hated. Everytime he went to SkyClan the patrol was just filled with awkward moments. Cats who recognized him from when he was a kit trying to make small talk, his father or his siblings showing up and shooting long looks across the divide. As if they could stare at him long enough that all the things in between them would simply dissolve. As if he was not a son, a brother. Blazestar barely knows how to speak to him but that is alright because he does not know how to speak to the cream colored tom either.

No, despite curly gray fur and hypnotizing eyes, ShadowClan was far safer. He wonders about Tornadopaw every once in a while, wonders how she has been. He has not seen her in a couple of moons, after all. She had once been a friend, someone dear to him who he sought out at gatherings and when they run into a patrol on the opposite side he almost inquires about her. Almost.

"ShadowClan" is what he chooses to say instead, a polite dip of his head and a simple greeting. He can see by the looks on their faces that they have caught the stinking moor scent that mingles with his clans own but he does not say anything on the matter. He would not be caught dead gossiping on the border like some hare-brained fool.

​

OOC NOTES . ✦ . CHARACTER INFO

• ooc : — apprentice tag @FALCONPAW. ​
• 
  

  ➵ he / him
  ➵ thunderclan lead warrior
  ➵ single ; crushing on roeflame
  
  

  

  - - Burnstorm is a hot headed tom who, above all, loves his clan and his family. He cares deeply and passionately for those closest to him and is one of the most loyal friends a cat could have. Because of his half-kitttypet heritage, Burnstorm is always hard at work, believing that he has to put in twice the amount of effort a normal cat does in order to prove himself as a worthy clan member
  ↪ ISTJ-T 'the logistican'
  
  - - a large, black furred tom with golden eyes
  ↪ toyhouse [ ✦ ]
  
  ➵ skilled fighter and decent hunter
  ➵ LITTLE WOLF X BLAZESTAR ; sibling to Fireflypaw, Howlfire, Morningpaw, Moonwhisper, Duskpaw and Skypaw
  ​

 

[FALCONHEART]

The WindClanners in their territory make Falconpaw nervous. He’s done his best to be friendly to them when he sees one of them in passing, but it’s difficult to be kind to cats like the moor-dwellers. They follow Sootstar, they attack camps and steal herbs and throw accusations around. Their leader has been cursed by StarClan. WindClan is hardly a clan at all, in Falconpaw’s eyes; they’re a band of rogues hardly any better than the one that currently holds the moorland territory. Having them so close makes his skin crawl. So the distraction of patrolling along the black asphalt border with ShadowClan is a welcome one, despite its own inherent danger. Burnstorm warns him to stay close by, and though he has no plans to stray too far from his mentor’s side, he accepts the order with a nod. He can see the forms of a few ShadowClan cats across the path, but can only barely make out their words.

The ShadowClanners seem to be talking amongst themselves about WindClan’s presence on ThunderClan territory. Burnstorm says nothing, though, and so Falconpaw says nothing. If it were important information to the marshland clan, surely the lead warrior would have spoken up in response. "ShadowClan," he repeats, a quieter echo of Burnstorm’s greeting. He wonders whether the other clan has also faced problems with rogues, but surely Howlingstar wouldn’t want the other clans to know too much about ThunderClan’s own troubles—just as WindClan wasn’t forthcoming with their rogue problem until they’d been driven from their own lands.​

[ find me way out there ]​

​

 

[APPLEJAW]

Granitepelt brings her to a halt. Not just as her mentor, or head of the party— but as a lead warrior. Applepaw had looked on in subdued horror. She had thought her parents' misgivings on her mentor had not been something exclusive to them, and only them. And perhaps that was still true. How important was a title that had once been doled to Ferndance of all cats? Though in the very same meeting, Chilledstar had come to their senses in the same realm, as well.

And Halfshade, misgivings and all... Well, she was no longer with them, does she? Applepaw does not know what to make of that.

She thinks Granitepelt understands her. That she would be strong, for her late mother. In a strange way, she feels lucky to be Granitepelt's apprentice— maybe Chilledstar had not done her so badly, after all. Applepaw follows his lead.

WindClan scent. The lighter note atop ThunderClan's well - known stink. She perks, with her mentor's proposal. An invasion? Scorchedpaw's proposal isn't completely mouse - brained. Fleabite's assessment is true— but Applepaw isn't unwilling to admit that she'd like to know anyways, just for the sake of knowing. Whatever WindClan might be after ThunderClan for, ShadowClan would be next beneath their claws if they did not find what they wanted. " Maybe they've managed to avoid a ThunderClan patrol, so far. " Not difficult, with how loud ThunderClan tended to be, though the hulking tom pitching over the horizon is an eager subversion of expectations.

Quiet, polite greetings are thrown there way. Applepaw makes a note to make her voice stronger than the ThunderClanners'. " ThunderClan. " Her eyes search out her mentor's gaze momentarily; looking for... something. She was't sure. A narrowed gaze is focused on ThunderClan, then. " Are you fairing well? ...As well as you can be, " Applepaw adds with a sniff, not blind to the struggle all the clans currently seemed to share.

ooc ༊ 𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂

• 
  

• 

• ( I'M OBSESSED WITH THE MESS THAT'S AMERICA. ) APPLEPAW. kit of shadowclan. eldest sister to swanpaw, ashenpaw, and garlicpaw. ( + birdkit, halfkit & tanglekit )
  —— she / her; confused by the use of others.
  —— currently 6 moons old as of 9.27.23. ages every 17th.
  
  longhaired blue torbie with a white chest, paws, and underbelly. A young cat you would describe as " bossy, " Applekit is quick to take charge of any situation she sees herself as the probable head of. A rule - follower to a T, and thinks herself better than the majority of her clan for this. Not ignorant enough to think herself above a warrior, but seeks to gain that status as quickly as possible. Intensely self - motivated to be the best in a mixture of blind, childish desire, and never wanting to be afraid of anything ever again.

​