Warrior Cats: A RPG

NEWS: February's Gathering is up!

Weather: Leaf-bare is here, and all the Clans are feeling the chill! There are occasional snow showers throughout the forest.

February Contests:

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Last Seen: Feb 19 2018, 10:20 PM
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rookcall

ShadowClan

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Jan 22 2018, 02:40 AM
@raventhorn
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<div class="homuhohtext">Well. Rookcall was going to spar with Raventhorn, the cat who thought he was an idiot. Maybe Rookcall could earn some respect, though. He was a decent fighter, but used brute force more than anything.
<p>Okay, he wasn't that great.
<p>Rookcall knew he could get strategically outwitted and had to pay attention to the moves he was going to make. Sure, he was a large cat and could easily overpower someone, but that was only if they were somewhat inexperienced. Rookcall knew that Raventhorn was an experienced warrior. He only hoped he didn't utterly embarrass himself with this mock battle.
<p>He definitely was going to.
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Jan 21 2018, 08:43 PM
@raventhorn
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Rookcall should really stop being so impulsive.
<p>In an attempt to catch a toad -- a meager piece of freshkill, really -- Rookcall had gotten himself stuck. In some brambles this time, rather than stuck to the ice by his tongue. Why in StarClan was it always him that seemed to get into trouble? And the toad wasn't even worth it! It was old and skinny, probably slimy and disgusting, but he wanted to contribute to the sad, small pile of freshkill that was so miserably gathered during leafbare. He hadn't even seen the brambles until he was stuck in them!
<p>His tail still hurt from his excursion on the ice, and now his whole body was going to hurt! He really hoped the one to find him wouldn't be Raventhorn. The tom seemed utterly exasperated the last time Rookcall had gotten into trouble like this.
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Dec 29 2017, 10:28 PM
A black tom traipsed along the side of the river, peering into it for a place he could get a nice, refreshing drink. His whole day had been filled with hunting for the elders, and StarClan-damn it, he was tired.

He sighed in irritation, planting a paw on the ice in an attempt to break it up. It was always difficult in this stupid season. He hated eating snow. It was hardly as revitalizing as good ol' water. He lowered his muzzle close to the surface of the ice and pressed his tongue to it, grunting when he realized that this was a bad idea. A very bad idea. Rookcall was stuck, quite literally, to the ice. By his tongue.

He couldn't let anyone see him, especially a passerby of another Clan. He had to figure this out himself. The tom wriggled around to press his belly to the ice, huffing in vexation. He tried desperately to exhale hot breath onto the ice to free his tongue, but to no avail. He was absolutely fastened.
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