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Re: Mourning Ruins
Quote:
Originally Posted by Daragca
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 40 moons Killer Aptitude T3 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T2 The Dancing Bird
The air tasted sour this morning, a low fog hung over the forest. Creeping and crawling like tendrils, a hunt perhaps wasn’t the best idea in such low visibility. But it was about time him and Newtbelly went hunting once more, as friends. Especially now that restrictions had been lifted by Dawnstar. For that he was thankful.
Ahead was Mourning Ruins, seemed like a long time since he’d visited. But there was always a mouthful or two to be found. Scuttling with rats and often blackbirds in the early hours, he was partial to a nice rat. Owlthroat had never been a particularly adept hunter, his bulky frame made too much noise. He’d always been envious of those silent cats, those that used the shadows as a second pelt. His white, cow-like patches glowed like the sun even in the dark. Not like he’d ever much needed to be stealthy. Brute force alone was usually more than enough to do the trick.
Black nostrils dropped down to the floor trying desperately to catch some sort of a scent past the acrid fog, a few whiffs of rat? Couldn’t be completely sure. ”Newt, there’s a faint trail here.” He gestured towards the spot he’d just sniffed with his bushy tail. Of course it would be likely that he left Newtbelly to do the real hard work, stalking, chasing, pouncing and killing. But most importantly sharing afterwards, if they found anything more than a mouthful or two they’d bring the rest back to camp to share what remained.
”A toad would be nice… mmm”, the tom’s stomach gurgled. Nothing available at camp seemed quite as satisfying as fresh and warm flesh to sink his yellowed teeth into. A peaceful morning was exactly what was needed, a moment of quiet. Reflection. He’d try and bring Tuftedtusk a trinket back with him, something sparkling perhaps? Out of his depth but surely effort was what mattered the most. Mental notes being made constantly of what was the best and worst way to behave in front of his dearest beloved.
On days like this, the fog practically beckoned him in, not even grand open spaces were without suitable hiding spots. Much to his joy though, the mourning ruins were not one of those open places. Crumbling walls and patches of weeds provided cover even without the fog's aid. The singed walls appeared a little ominous in this light, almost like they were reaching up to StarClan through the cloudy air. He wasn't even alive when the incident occurred, but he'd heard stories. It seemed the scar it left on ShadowClan would be permanently documented here, never fully healed. Though, the derelict barn had its charm. He'd never found it particularly unnerving himself. A thick floor of weeds lay underfoot, growing up the remaining stone walls. The abundance of plants beckoned prey in, he couldn't imagine there was much to find here before it burned down. He was always off put by twoleg structures, so a burnt one was much more welcome. A true signifier of their absence.
He'd found himself on a hunting trip with Owlthroat, determined to impress him after the last time they left camp together - memories of that mess of a herb patrol crept up on him. This time, he wouldn't lose his cool in the face of danger. Plus, maybe he could bring something back to camp and earn the favour of some warriors. It wasn't as good an opportunity as a battle, but it was good enough. Nose tilted up, he tried to map out the wind. It seemed to be headed towards them at the moment, that was good. But, he didn't smell but one scent on it. Lucky for him, Owlthroat caught scent of something. After creeping over, he gave it a wiff. He wasn't sure it'd be toad like Owlthroat hoped, it seemed a bit more ratlike, but he didn't comment on it, since he wasn't actually sure what the scent was - better not to embarass himself. "Right," his tone was hushed as he crouched down, beginning to follow the trail. The crouch didn't feel entirely necessary, but he'd rather take extra precautions; He was too old to scare prey off in front of Owlthroat now. Continuing to creep, his eyes darted about the space in front of him. Nothing was coming into view. "Hey, you see anything old man?" he whispered, tail stiff as not to scare away any potential meals.
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 40 moons Killer Aptitude T3 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T2 The Dancing Bird
Newtbelly’s crouch almost made him chuckle, he was eager. More eager perhaps than Owlthroat, Newtbelly always had been. The tom wondered if it was his own behaviours that had deviously rubbed off on him over the moons, but by far Newtbelly had turned out the most similar. The need to impress was palpable and the young tom was doing well with that in his arsenal as a tool to further himself.
Following his old apprentice’s line of view he leaned down himself, making his large paws as silent as was physically possible. Shrugging off his old man comment once again, he pushed forward until he could just about crane his ears and hear scratching.
”This way Newtface! There’s bound to be something”, the tom jeered lightly. A soft smile playing on his lips. Pushing his way forward he found himself clambering clumsily over the outskirts of rubble, carefully sweeping his yellow eyes this way and that. Until a glint caught his focus, something sparkling between a few rocks. Perhaps something suitable to bring home to Tuftedtusk, he squeezed his head into the gap and grasped something hard in between his teeth. It tasted foul, it glimmer clearly masked by a layer of grime but still sparkling. Pulling back he tugged it free and spat it at his paws.
+1 Gemstone
Nice, a sparkling blue rock. He’d lucked out here, the tom chucked it behind him to collect later. Narrowly flying past Newtbelly’s head at some speed. ”Sorry”, he unconvincingly mumbled. He pressed his nose down once more as he continued forward until the scratching became irresistible. The fog still clung heavily to the air masking most scents other than damp and rot.
In a flurry a grey shadow shot towards him. Owlthroat attempted clumsily to bring his hefty paws down but just threw them into the dirt instead, the rat scrabbling. Dashing right underneath his stomach in the direction of open ground, he turned rapidly. Yowling with frustration hoping desperately that Newtbelly would be quicker and make up for his blathering incompetence.
Bump Policy: Whenever! 100% remind me after 72 hrs though!
Posts: 277
My Mood:
Re: Mourning Ruins
Quote:
Originally Posted by Daragca
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 40 moons Killer Aptitude T3 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T2 The Dancing Bird
Newtbelly’s crouch almost made him chuckle, he was eager. More eager perhaps than Owlthroat, Newtbelly always had been. The tom wondered if it was his own behaviours that had deviously rubbed off on him over the moons, but by far Newtbelly had turned out the most similar. The need to impress was palpable and the young tom was doing well with that in his arsenal as a tool to further himself.
Following his old apprentice’s line of view he leaned down himself, making his large paws as silent as was physically possible. Shrugging off his old man comment once again, he pushed forward until he could just about crane his ears and hear scratching.
”This way Newtface! There’s bound to be something”, the tom jeered lightly. A soft smile playing on his lips. Pushing his way forward he found himself clambering clumsily over the outskirts of rubble, carefully sweeping his yellow eyes this way and that. Until a glint caught his focus, something sparkling between a few rocks. Perhaps something suitable to bring home to Tuftedtusk, he squeezed his head into the gap and grasped something hard in between his teeth. It tasted foul, it glimmer clearly masked by a layer of grime but still sparkling. Pulling back he tugged it free and spat it at his paws.
+1 Gemstone
Nice, a sparkling blue rock. He’d lucked out here, the tom chucked it behind him to collect later. Narrowly flying past Newtbelly’s head at some speed. ”Sorry”, he unconvincingly mumbled. He pressed his nose down once more as he continued forward until the scratching became irresistible. The fog still clung heavily to the air masking most scents other than damp and rot.
In a flurry a grey shadow shot towards him. Owlthroat attempted clumsily to bring his hefty paws down but just threw them into the dirt instead, the rat scrabbling. Dashing right underneath his stomach in the direction of open ground, he turned rapidly. Yowling with frustration hoping desperately that Newtbelly would be quicker and make up for his blathering incompetence.
Faint scratching caused his ears to perk up, but it looked like Owlthroat was already on it, big burly figure scrambling over the rocks. What on earth? His ear flickered in a confusion, and almost a little bit of frustration. Not that he was frustrated with Owlthroat or his actions, it was a sort of frustration in not understanding the tom's motives. Since when did the formidable owl care about gemstones? He was acting erratic. It was weird. Though, the feigned apology was quite normal. The young tortoiseshell shook his head, unsure what to even say to that. Owlthroat continued to follow the scratching, whilst Newtbelly followed, still in a hunter's crouch. Lucky he kept position, since Owlthroat sent the thing scurrying towards him. He hadn't really had the time to choose the perfect spot to hide in, but this would have to do. Little paws came scurrying, avoiding Owlthroat's powerful claws; sorry little guy, but this is your last day out here.
His haunches tensed up as he prepared to spring
[Roll: D20 - 10+ for catch, level above 10 determines quality of rat, level below 10 determines how bad he flops][Rolled: 17]
Just as it paced perfectly in front of him, he lunged forward, claws securing themselves in the animal's flesh - then he nipped, making it quick. He always did. Cats weren't horrid to their prey like some other predators, he took pride in that.
It was a decently big one - nothing crazy, but it had definitely eaten its fill this Greenleaf. They'd eat well too, it seemed. "Looks like you spotted a big one Owl," he smiled pridefully, before pushing the thing out with his paws. "You wanna eat it here?" This area was a little more open, but it was a foggy day, so he didn't figure it'd be a problem.
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 40 moons Killer Aptitude T3 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T2 The Dancing Bird
Thankfully Newtbelly had seized the rat in his claws firmly and dispatched of their new friend. The blood, now that he could smell, a delicious bite. It was big enough to share that was for certain, perhaps after a restock on energy they’d find a couple more to bring home.
He began to shift his weight to make his way back over to Newtbelly, ”Yeah, let's eat then get back to it. There’s more here I’m sure of it.” His voice coming out gruff and disinterested as usual. Underpaw he felt movement, the kind that came from disturbing the ground. The tom had shifted the rocks and with that shifted part of the structure of crumbling rocks and timber. Owlthroat’s ear flickered in hesitation as he stopped and stood still; he didn't want to end up squished under something heavy. It wasn’t obvious how stable this thing was.
It creaked and heaved and squeaked.
Squeaked?
Behind him came a tidal wave of ornery grey monsters. Their little paws scrabbling and raging in a fierce fight to make their way to the nearest exit. Rats could be dangerous in big hordes, enough could easily swarm and bite a cat to death if they got overwhelmed. But he’d disturbed the nest, this was a chance to bag some on their exit, if he didn’t interrupt them too much they’d be more focused on getting out instead of getting him. They swarmed under his paws and belly, smelling plump and ever so delicious. He tried to brace his muscles as they rushed past. Extending a long jagged claw and hooking one, then another. This was easy picking. The way they flooded in panic.
Then came the rumble, not from the structure, or settling rocks, or from the little devils. But from somewhere within, something they’d been fleeing. His entire spine shivered, fur prickling up to twice its size and claws limply dangling rat guts.
A red monster is worse than a grey one. That was for sure. A fox joined the party
The lithe creature burst its way forth after the rats, nimbly swerving a beam in a flash of glorious crimson. Anxiety that had swallowed him a moment earlier in regards to a collapsing building swelled into anticipation of glory. It was easy to see why he’d been labelled a madman, welcoming the sight of a fierce predator and a dash of glory and death. His masterpiece of a rotten mind revelled in sheer excitement to take on this hulking beast.
Owlthroat had never taken on a fox before, but he’d make sure it saw its last days here. Better him than some scraggly apprentice and weak nobody coming under the wrath of claws. ”NEWT! Time to prove your worth”, Owlthroat bellowed. His eyes locked grimly with the beast as it paused to await his move, a snarl locking both the fox’s lips and his own. Only if you looked close enough, his more in the category of maniacal grin.
Bump Policy: Whenever! 100% remind me after 72 hrs though!
Posts: 277
My Mood:
Re: Mourning Ruins
Quote:
Originally Posted by Daragca
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 40 moons Killer Aptitude T3 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T2 The Dancing Bird
Thankfully Newtbelly had seized the rat in his claws firmly and dispatched of their new friend. The blood, now that he could smell, a delicious bite. It was big enough to share that was for certain, perhaps after a restock on energy they’d find a couple more to bring home.
He began to shift his weight to make his way back over to Newtbelly, ”Yeah, let's eat then get back to it. There’s more here I’m sure of it.” His voice coming out gruff and disinterested as usual. Underpaw he felt movement, the kind that came from disturbing the ground. The tom had shifted the rocks and with that shifted part of the structure of crumbling rocks and timber. Owlthroat’s ear flickered in hesitation as he stopped and stood still; he didn't want to end up squished under something heavy. It wasn’t obvious how stable this thing was.
It creaked and heaved and squeaked.
Squeaked?
Behind him came a tidal wave of ornery grey monsters. Their little paws scrabbling and raging in a fierce fight to make their way to the nearest exit. Rats could be dangerous in big hordes, enough could easily swarm and bite a cat to death if they got overwhelmed. But he’d disturbed the nest, this was a chance to bag some on their exit, if he didn’t interrupt them too much they’d be more focused on getting out instead of getting him. They swarmed under his paws and belly, smelling plump and ever so delicious. He tried to brace his muscles as they rushed past. Extending a long jagged claw and hooking one, then another. This was easy picking. The way they flooded in panic.
Then came the rumble, not from the structure, or settling rocks, or from the little devils. But from somewhere within, something they’d been fleeing. His entire spine shivered, fur prickling up to twice its size and claws limply dangling rat guts.
A red monster is worse than a grey one. That was for sure. A fox joined the party
The lithe creature burst its way forth after the rats, nimbly swerving a beam in a flash of glorious crimson. Anxiety that had swallowed him a moment earlier in regards to a collapsing building swelled into anticipation of glory. It was easy to see why he’d been labelled a madman, welcoming the sight of a fierce predator and a dash of glory and death. His masterpiece of a rotten mind revelled in sheer excitement to take on this hulking beast.
Owlthroat had never taken on a fox before, but he’d make sure it saw its last days here. Better him than some scraggly apprentice and weak nobody coming under the wrath of claws. ”NEWT! Time to prove your worth”, Owlthroat bellowed. His eyes locked grimly with the beast as it paused to await his move, a snarl locking both the fox’s lips and his own. Only if you looked close enough, his more in the category of maniacal grin.
Mmm, good job that Owlthroat agreed with his offer, he was starved. Yellow maw stretched out to take a bite of the thing, but then the crumbling began. Owlthroat was stood right near a structure - visions of digging through hefty stones soon plagued him, was Owlthroat about to get trapped under all that twoleg garbage. Momentarily the two of them were still, Newtbelly's head remaining just above his catch. He was sure they hadn't caused enough ruckus to disturb the building, was Owlthroat's muscular frame really that heavy? No.
Rats.
Dozens of them. That couldn't be right, they hadn't crawled into a nest, they'd attacked a stray adventurer. Someone else must be here - a helping hand? With that, they could catch a huge bundle for the clan. He bounced to his paws, exhilarated as he joined Owlthroat, attempting to grab as many as possible. However, his nimble paws didn't smash into the things quite as easily. Quickly, he grasped one in his jaws, shaking it. Great to know that he wouldn't do well in a rat attack... Actually, it was unlikely for the creatures to run towards them without putting up a fight, right? His stomach dropped. It looked like Owlthroat had turned his head too- - if the cards were in their favour, some other ShadowClanner would peek out from behind the walls.
Rat still in mouth, he stared with bated breath. It seemed the cards were entirely turned against them.
The wriggly orange thing came running. It was the first one he'd seen, but he knew it as soon as he saw it. A fox. It wasn't nearly as big as he'd imagined, but that didn't render it weak. It'd be nimble, it could match Newtbelly for speed, or worse, outdo him. No, time to prove himself, Owlthroat was right. The clans ruled this forest for a reason, foxes had been driven off many a time. Owlthroat's brute strength mixed with his stealth should be just enough to beat the thing down. Owlthroat was already staring at it, crazed eyes -was he about to launch straight at it? One well-placed bite and it'd be over, did he realise that? No, he couldn't think like that, Owlthroat moved differently. One well-placed hit from him, and the fox would be over. Newtbelly couldn't do the same. His mind whirred.
The fox had emerged from behind a structure, so if they could keep it's back to the wall, it'd have less space to roam, unable to apply its agile nature. Owlthroat already had the easiest exit covered, whether he knew it or not. So what could he do from here? Stealth was out of the question, the orange canid had fixed them both in its stare. He took a quick breath, before racing to the fox's right, pleaing that it wouldn't turn it's head, then he'd go for its ribs with a simple swipe - that way, it'll turn to him, directing its head away from the huge tom, which would just maybe leave its neck open to him [agatha kitty].
[Roll: D20 10+ = hit u know the drill lol]
[Rolled: 17 - AGAIN??]
A swift jump, and he was right next to it, claws raking along its side as he skidded to a halt. It wasn't the perfect hit, but it was pretty good by his standards - damage had been done. Much to his dismay, the fox's head barely turned, at least, not in the way he'd hoped. Its head swivelled between the two of them, but now it'd ducked down, neck guarded from mouth level.
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 40 moons Killer Aptitude T3 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T2 The Dancing Bird
TW: descriptions of blood & flesh
The art of the battle, since young Owlthroat had always known where his talent lay. Never the best at well, anything. But claws and blood.
Oh how he basked in the dance, the crimson glory. It tasted like a wrought iron crown. Through it all he’d taught Newtbelly well, pride swelled up as he raked through the beast’s ribs. Not as much damage as he thought he’d do but it left the red devil wincing and swivelling. Ducking down. Now Owlthroat hadn’t fought a fox before, he’d seen them from afar sure. His brain whirring trying to deduct how an enemy of the likes of this would fight, agile, vicious and quick. Seemed like an even pairing between the two, with Newtbelly to throw in a few blows at the side this would be as easy as stealing prey from an apprentice.
So the dance began. With thundering paws he didn’t think twice, strategy wasn’t something preplanned, more impulsive and intuitive. A yowl escaped beared yellow teeth as he dived head on, as his claws extended outwards they contacted with thick greasy fur. Parting through to slick his claws red as he dragged down the fox’s chest and carved it wide open. Its foreign tongue yelped and quivered in pain as Owlthroat’s eyes flashed with glee. He’d almost gotten too caught up in the moment to realise its long snout was bearing down on him in a flash, considerably longer than the short cat muzzles he was used to dealing with. This creature had reach, and much larger teeth to sink into skin and fur.
Owlthroat felt it pierce his hind leg just before he scrambled from reach, a searing hot agony paired with warm oozing life essence. His claw madly swung back to get it to release him, splitting open its black nose in half. Biting into his own cheeks to ignore the pain, it felt relieving as its clamped jaws opened wide. Head swinging as its nose seared. The tom would ignore it for now, there was more pressing issues at hand than a little injury. Spinning around he went in for it again. This time using his hind legs, however injured, to set the creature off balance. Heading directly towards Newtbelly, he expected he could handle it. Grin still stupidly on his face hoping his prodigy didn’t just curl up and die on him as quick as he came.
For the strong are rewarded, blessed by Starclan and whoa almighty. Owlthroat was never a firm believer, when you died you died. Best to leave a legacy here and now than write one ghostly that no one can see. Did that make him twisted? There was no true concern for Newtbelly, he loved the kid, but if he died, would he really be so torn up inside? Or just numb like always. To experience the pain of life was to live, to bond, to love, to wither. If Starclan was real, Owlthroat didn’t know if a space existed for him. Just another promised land. Another promise.
Re: Mourning Ruins
+1 rat
