storms make trees take deeper roots
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Post by cosmic on Jul 15, 2023 16:19:38 GMT -6
#s://i~pinimg~com/736x/a6/d4/f3/a6d4f3e4a4ff56871f6ce7e815e747d9~jpg It was dawn, and the patrols had been sent. Thankfully, the old cat wasn't sent on a patrol, so he had the morning to himself. Goosefire didn't want to listen to the others anyways. Cats were still trying to make small talk and idle conversations with him to try to get to know him, but he didn't care for any of that. He had no desire to get close with any of the other cats, except for maybe a naïve she-cat that would toss herself toward him eventually. The day was cold, as leaf-bare had started to settle into the land. However, no wind also helped the tom keep his warmth while padding toward the lightning tree. It was something that he had heard all the cats talk about the tree as a spectacular sight in the territory. Goosefire would be the judge of that. As he walked along the path towards the tree, he shook his pelt out to make it fluff up as he approached. He hoped that some love-struck apprentices were at the tree that he could scare off for some peace and quiet, but it seemed like he wouldn't be so lucky. However, he was lucky enough to see a mouse at the base of the tree. Carefully, he crouched down to be able to try to catch it. Without wind, he didn't need to worry about being downwind or not, so he approached slowly. Eventually, he sprung and caught the rodent with his left paw and killed it swiftly. His bones ached from the sudden movement, but the satisfaction of catching a prey during leaf-bare was always superior. Goosefire, though, knew the mouse wouldn't keep by the time he got back from camp. The brown senior warrior moved next to the tree with the mouse in his maw. When he got under a part of the tree with a bit of shade from one of the broken branches, he settled down with the prey between his paws. Goosefire quickly gulped the mouse down his gullet, hardly savoring the taste as it controlled his hunger. Did he feel guilty about not taking it to the fresh-kill pile or give it to a crying, annoying kit? Nah. |
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Post by Jaecarys on Aug 27, 2023 11:43:49 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/DPdqFFY/tablegif~gif | ✹ dawnclaw, So if you look back and you hate my past, just know I'm doing everything that I can. I'm doing everything that I can. I told you that my whole life, could have sworn I would die young, my last words, twenty two years on my tongue—I'm bad luck, I'm bad luck, I'm bad luck. |
Leaf-bare, by far, was his greatest enemy. Maybe dramatic, but damn it all, Dawnclaw was fucking freezing. Would he complain? Never out loud. Was he an absolute mouseheart inside about snow? Absolutely. Dawnclaw’s jaws clenched tight around his dove to keep his teeth from chattering. Even fluffed out, his pelt was short and provided only so much protection. He kept himself at a light jog to keep his blood pumping, and to keep his paws off of the frosted pine needles as much as he could. It was going to be a long leaf-bare, they always were, the miserably monotony only ever broken by time with his sister, or hearing stories from MistClanners. This leaf-bare was different. There was no Dusfang this year. He was among the MistClanners now, learning their stories. Maybe one day, he’d be one of the ones telling them — he was earnest in wanting to, a sentiment Goosefire didn’t seem to share. The fellow ex-RidgeClanner seemed to hate being here at all. Was he responsible for what happened to the kits? Was he a hypocrite for mistrusting someone who abandoned RidgeClan, just like he did? No, he told himself. Goosefire was the sort to have gotten along with Sunstorm, and so Goosefire was the sort that Dawnclaw had to be wary of. The Lightning Tree is where the old tom’s scent lead him. It came into view through a break in the pines, impossible to miss. He slowed, ribs heaving just enough to turn his breath into a cloud around the dove. There was Goosefire at the base of the tree, crouched on the grassy knoll that overlooked the plains. Dawnclaw didn’t try to mask his approach, letting his paws fall heavy until he stopped to drop the dove a few paces away. ”I brought the dove to share,” he remarked with a nonchalant swish of his tail. ”But I guess you’ve already helped yourself.” The large tom crouched over his dove and began pulling feathers from its breast, stepping on some to save for his nest. He kept a watchful eye on Goosefire, but put on a crooked grin. ”I’ve been meaning to make time to spar with you again, old man. You’re not ready for the elder’s den yet, right?” |
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storms make trees take deeper roots
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Post by cosmic on Sept 26, 2023 14:34:33 GMT -6
#s://i~pinimg~com/736x/a6/d4/f3/a6d4f3e4a4ff56871f6ce7e815e747d9~jpg He wasn't sure who it was that approached him at first. Typically, he was more alert of his surroundings and kept a watchful eye. However, maybe he finally felt comfortable in his new homeland. Still, he had a long time to go before his new clanmates would trust him, even more so when he realized who's agitating, grating voice came from behind him. Ah, of course it was the spawn of Sunstorm that had come to MistClan. He was unsure which one of them came to the forest first from RidgeClan, but Dawnclaw was so much better at playing the "refugee" part than he was. It made Goosefire question his own role into joining the new clan. While he knew he needed to have pleasantries and act as if he wanted to be there, it was hard. Especially with a young whippersnapper trying to be the next best thing all the time. "You youngsters sure know how to ruin a private meal for one, don't cha?" he snarked in his typical, should-have-been-made-an-elder-already tone. Thankfully, Ivyfrost's kits were gone and couldn't annoy him anymore. The brown tom watched the cinnamon-speckled tabby eat his choice of a dove, as his mind began to wander. He needed to get in good with the younger RidgeClan cat. He had a cover to keep, and he wasn't going to let some daddy's boy ruin his chances of bringing RidgeClan to its former glory. Goosefire, obviously bored with the slow, cold morning, lifted his haunches to stretch out while letting out an exaggerated yawn. "Just like your father, huh? You can never let a day pass you by without doing something." Sunstorm, one of his closest friends, was someone that he missed dearly after running from his true home. While he was more of the lazy type and only did duties as he was needed, he admired the ginger tom's optimism with his dedication. However, he couldn't help but chuckle at his previous comment. "Elder's den? How dare you even mention that repulsive name to me. You know damn well that I'll be found rotting in the territory rather than wasting everyday," he snarled with no malicious intent, with his head and tail as high as he could muster.
"Now, you better not pull out any RidgeClan techniques on this side of the river. Me and you, we are MistClan now," he spoke with a whistle of wind carrying his voice. The old, battle-scarred tom moved himself to face his sparring opponent. "Hit me with your best. Just like old times," Oh, how he would love to be able to tear through that pretty boy's pelt. Carry him back to the camp, cry on how PrairieClan had involvement somehow in order to drive MistClan to seclusion. Perfect enough for RidgeClan to take their revenge. There was time, however. Time is all that was needed. |
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Post by Jaecarys on Nov 21, 2023 16:39:17 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/DPdqFFY/tablegif~gif | ✹ dawnclaw, So if you look back and you hate my past, just know I'm doing everything that I can. I'm doing everything that I can. I told you that my whole life, could have sworn I would die young, my last words, twenty two years on my tongue—I'm bad luck, I'm bad luck, I'm bad luck. |
"You youngsters sure know how to ruin a private meal for one, don't cha?" Goosefire snarked. Dawnclaw’s smirk widened, eyes glimmering, but he kept pulling cloud-gray feathers from his dove. There was a certain roughened, brutal camaraderie he did miss from RidgeClan. It was a bittersweet feeling being in the company of Goosefire. He didn’t trust the old man, didn’t want to return to RidgeClan… but Goosefire provided a comforting familiarity. He lifted his haunches in a luxurious stretch, jaws parting in a yarn before he turned full attention to him. "Just like your father, huh? You can never let a day pass you by without doing something." He stopped plucking his prey. The sweet side of things soured, and he forced himself not to bristle, working his jaw with his claws flexing. Just like your father. ”He trained me well,” he said, his tone far lighter than he felt. Thank StarClan, the subject shifted. "Elder's den? How dare you even mention that repulsive name to me.” Dawnclaw flicked his tail and lifted a brow in reply as he pulled a bite from the bare dove. “You know damn well that I'll be found rotting in the territory rather than wasting everyday." ”I have little doubt about that.”Goosefire shifted into a fiercer state, the formidable warrior of his youth shining through. No, this tom wasn’t ready for the elder’s den. "Now, you better not pull out any RidgeClan techniques on this side of the river. Me and you, we are MistClan now," he said, a challenge underlining his tone. "Hit me with your best. Just like old times.” Dawnclaw straightened, dove forgotten, a thrill rippling through his coat. ”Just like old times.”There was no preamble. No prowl, no warning. One, two, three seconds to assess, and he launched across the space between them. Head on, a twist at the last second, a non-lethal bite aimed for the throat. Always aim for a kill, boy, his father hissed in his ear. End it before it begins. [[ attack roll: 11 ]] |
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storms make trees take deeper roots
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Post by cosmic on Dec 3, 2023 20:56:42 GMT -6
#s://i~pinimg~com/736x/a6/d4/f3/a6d4f3e4a4ff56871f6ce7e815e747d9~jpg
Goosefire watched as the smile creeped along the young warrior's mouth. Cheeky bastard, he thinks he is funny. While the brown tabby had always been a fan of his father, the son was not as much. Except maybe when he was younger, just looking to please Papa Sunstorm in any way possible. Now, however, he was just a deserter of his home. At least Goosefire had a good reason to be in MistClan.
As the tom stopped plucking the dove with the tom's comment about being like his father, he knew he had struck a nerve. Good. He didn't need Dawnclaw on his tail.
But the sliver tabby still persisted that they spar. Fine, it didn't make the tom any difference. He had to make sure that Dawnclaw still doubted his ability to retire to the elder's den. While on his mission to destroy the clan, he had to make sure that Hailstar did see a reason to retire. It would be a lot harder to slink around to do his dirty work with kits and apprentices always seeking his attention.
But he snapped back to the reality of the situation. A spar just like old times. It reminded him of the numerous times that they had sparred before, usually at the request of Sunstorm. He respected the ginger tom, in hopes of making his son stronger at any costs. Obviously, that had paid off, when the tom's tenacity showed through with a lunge toward him.
However, he still wanted to prove his worth, especially to Dawnclaw. As the sliver tabby launched to bite his throat, he was able to see what was coming. The hesitation and predictable nature of Dawnclaw allowed him to avoid it. The tom had sunk his body lower than what the warrior was attempting to grab, allowing his rigid and old form to slither out from where the attack would have caused him to land.
"Too slow," he muttered, unknowing if the younger tom would be able to hear him in the middle of the battle. As Goosefire stood back up from slinking under the missed attack, he tried to orientate himself as quickly as his elden muscles would let him. Facing the tom's left side, he then lunge forward with his left paw in front, aiming to strike the tom on his side.
Still, his claws were sheathed. There was nothing that Goosefire wanted more than to slice through the pretty boy's fur.
But the time would come. The time would come eventually.
[ athletic roll: d20 + 4 = 4 (+ 4) = 8 ] |
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Post by Jaecarys on Dec 5, 2023 8:42:44 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/DPdqFFY/tablegif~gif | ✹ dawnclaw, So if you look back and you hate my past, just know I'm doing everything that I can. I'm doing everything that I can. I told you that my whole life, could have sworn I would die young, my last words, twenty two years on my tongue—I'm bad luck, I'm bad luck, I'm bad luck. |
Dawnclaw snapped at empty air. “Too slow,” Goosefire taunted under his breath. Pathetic. Sunstorm’s voice. The old tom stepped back, righted himself, and locked his eyes on Dawn’s left side. He exposed his intent, his father hissed in his mind. Goosefire launched forward with a strike, and he saw it coming. When he was young, watching combat, he’d always wondered if time slowed down for warriors like Sunstorm, like Stoatfang, like Goosefire. He’d heard some say it does, and he never understood what it meant. He still didn’t. It never slowed for him. These moments were split milliseconds, over before he knew what was happening. Instinct happens fast, second natured skill acting before he could decide. Claws, teeth, battle—he knew these like he knew breathing. Dawnclaw had dodged the strike, curled around it, and then he was propelled by strong haunches to tackle him. Claws sheathed, he had to tell himself. Mist, not Ridge.[[ attack roll: 9 ]] |
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storms make trees take deeper roots
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Post by cosmic on Jan 5, 2024 20:40:09 GMT -6
#s://i~pinimg~com/736x/a6/d4/f3/a6d4f3e4a4ff56871f6ce7e815e747d9~jpg He was eating his words. The old tom had been out of shape for too long now, it seems. If he pulled a stunt like this in from of Hailstar, it would likely be his demise to join the elders den. As his attack missed, his greed to hit the young tom grew stronger like a hunger inside him. He needed to prove to himself that he was still the same tom he had been in RidgeClan. However, he was still gracious that his scrawny form managed to leap out of the way in time to miss the attack by the sliver cat. Good, he wouldn't have to defend himself yet. As he leaped out of the tom's way, he planted his feet on the ground, not muttering a word before lowering himself. A couple of fast steps, before he attempted to run along the tom's side, his right paw grazing Dawnclaw's side. If claws were unsheathed, it would be a nice attack, causing a slice along the pretty boy's fur, from shoulder to haunches. However, he knew that Dawnclaw was as good as his father. Goosefire wasn't a fool. It would be a miracle for the hit to actually place. [attack roll: 10; fail] |
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Post by Jaecarys on Feb 2, 2024 12:36:44 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/DPdqFFY/tablegif~gif | ✹ dawnclaw, So if you look back and you hate my past, just know I'm doing everything that I can. I'm doing everything that I can. I told you that my whole life, could have sworn I would die young, my last words, twenty two years on my tongue—I'm bad luck, I'm bad luck, I'm bad luck. |
He missed, and his nose creased with the start of a snarl. Goosefire was old, but he was still tenacious as ever in evasion. Fucker. He was Dawnclaw, one of the elite fighters of the valley, and he had yet to land a hit on a near-elder. He was too out of practice. Dawnclaw spun to attack again, just as his opponent closed the distance to swipe a strike down his side. He barely dodged it, letting Goosefire’s paw sweep through the space he had vanished from. Precision was essential in any fight, and right then, Goosefire lacked it. No time for mistakes. His heartbeat was a rapid drum, and he lunged with a counter in the split-hair second after the warrior’s miss. Dawnclaw locked both forelegs around Goosefire’s frail shoulders in another tackle to pin him down, and his jaws snapped down to his exposed throat. [ attack roll: 27; crit success ] |
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storms make trees take deeper roots
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Post by cosmic on Feb 20, 2024 15:57:50 GMT -6
#s://i~pinimg~com/736x/a6/d4/f3/a6d4f3e4a4ff56871f6ce7e815e747d9~jpg
StarClan, he wasn't as nimble as he was previously. The first few moves were great, but perhaps his old age was catching up to him? Nonsense, fighting Dawnclaw was like fighting a whole army of warriors. Sunstorm had done good teaching that boy.
If only the ideals had stuck...
The strong force of the gray tom caused Goosefire to cough from the lost air in his lungs, as his shoulders were pinned to the rough dirt floor. Before the brown tabby had a chance to do anything, the sharp pricks of teeth surround his throat. Loser.
While he was hoping to prove himself as still a reliable warrior, it was clear that the youth still had their advantages. Goosefire's ego was certainly hurt a little, just because of the boy's youth and being beaten by a cat from his own land. However, it just inspired him to work harder, longer. Especially since his cat would not keeping an eye on him.
"Aye, I thought you were supposed to respect your elders, now," he grumbled under his breath, making sure to keep a light tone to it still to keep the impresion of humor. "Now, let me up, and we can go for round two if you so choose. I was just warming up my old RidgeClan bones, you see."
[if you want to have a round two, lmk! or they can just talk for a bit, either way c:] |
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Post by Jaecarys on Apr 15, 2024 7:39:36 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/DPdqFFY/tablegif~gif | ✹ dawnclaw, So if you look back and you hate my past, just know I'm doing everything that I can. I'm doing everything that I can. I told you that my whole life, could have sworn I would die young, my last words, twenty two years on my tongue—I'm bad luck, I'm bad luck, I'm bad luck. |
Dawnclaw stopped short of an actual bite, but Goosefire stilled, and the rush of victory was hot in his veins. "Aye, I thought you were supposed to respect your elders, now," came the gruff jest from the old man. "Now, let me up, and we can go for round two if you so choose. I was just warming up my old RidgeClan bones, you see." The warrior did as he was told, jaws releasing and stepping back to allow Goosefire the space to pick himself—and his dignity—off the ground. Try as he might, he couldn’t quite keep the smug smirk off his face, and he didn’t bother cleaning up his fur while he caught his breath. Old habit. Sunstorm was always particular about presentation, and leaving himself disheveled after training was always a small, private rebellion, even now. ”Another time,” he hummed, eyes glimmering. ”Aren’t you hungry?”He was. He’d been tempted more by a spar than a dove, but now that he’d had his victory, he wanted his prey. He drew a languid tongue across his lips and returned to his crouch with the plucked bird, tearing a bite free. He tracked Goosefire, and flicked his tail in question. He swallowed and placed a paw over the bird. ”What made you leave RidgeClan?” |
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storms make trees take deeper roots
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Post by cosmic on May 11, 2024 21:12:25 GMT -6
#s://i~pinimg~com/736x/a6/d4/f3/a6d4f3e4a4ff56871f6ce7e815e747d9~jpg As he was able to get up and shake the feeling of the young brute's jaws on top of his neck, he couldn't help but feel the fur along his spine want to spike up in irritation. It wasn't like him to be so easily beat in a spar, even with Dawnclaw. They had their fair share of fights, both of them being victorious at different times. But MistClan had made Dawnclaw softer. The cinnamon tom didn't have the same fire in his eyes that he once had before, and yet was able to still be the top warrior. Jealousy, he would admit, that old age was making him too weak. He had to be stronger.
Dawnclaw invited the brown tabby to eat, but he simply waved his paw as the warrior was already heading toward the prey from earlier. "I had my share of prey the other day, I can go without," he lied. There was no reason to remind the tom of the sins of his morning meal near the base of the lightning tree. To the other warrior, Goosefire had already taken prey to the fresh-kill pile.
As the tom began to dine on the dove, the scrawny tabby licked at his front paws to start to comb his pelt, trying to make it look more decent than Dawnclaw's pelt currently looked. Young and scrappy were the youth of today. But he held onto his question for a moment at he continued to groom at his face and cheeks. "I'd guess it's like the rest of the lot of you," he admitted. "But, I think the exact reasoning is where we differ. We all left after the war, but for what reason, that's our own."
Goosefire's eyes finally landed on the tom, with an eagerness to lunge at him again, this time not being a friendly spar. He couldn't be impulsive now, however. He needed more time. "Guilt, I guess, is why I'm here. I think that Dustflower led me here somehow as well," he wanted to snarl at the end of the sentence, but kept it at bay. Dustflower was too pure, that's why he loved her. But, to hide his true ambitions under her morales even made him sick. She didn't deserve it.
"I'm always hoping Heronfeather would join us... but, RidgeClan is home for him." And for me. |
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