Warrior Cats: A RPG

NEWS: December's Gathering has been posted!

Weather: All the leaves have fallen by now, and while there may be the occasional mild day, the weather can now only be described with one word: cold! Brr! Leaf-bare will be here before we know it!

December Contests:

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Personal Info
Location: Riverclan
Born: 28 February 2016
Website: No Information
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Rank: Kitten
Gender: Female
Played By: No Information
Custom Title: Superstitious and bossy
Joined: 7-May 17
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Dec 14 2017, 09:44 PM
Local Time: Dec 15 2017, 10:13 PM
298 posts (1.3 per day)
( 1.31% of total forum posts )
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My Content
Nov 18 2017, 06:19 PM
Well, it hurt like a sunvabitch.

She'd been slammed into a tree, and the healing wound on her shoulder leaked slowly, tearing open just enough to be painful. It wasn't dangerous though, and a layer of bruises was the worst thing about it. But she limped into camp and placed the caught vole on the prey pile, before briefly wondering who to talk to about this. A thought crossed her mind -- she didn't want to go to Hollow with this. Not as an official. She could very well talk with him later, when it wasn't fresh and he wouldn't start a manhunt. Instead, she raised her voice, hoping either of the two would hear her.

"Hey, I need a deputy. Chased some ass off the territory, pretty sure it's the one Burn met with. Also need someone to slap some more cobwebs on my back. I'm voluntelling Burn to do it, so... you know."

Then she sat down, because her pregnant ass was tired and also her ribs hurt so bad.
Nov 13 2017, 11:52 PM

Five minutes. She'd closed her eyes for five minutes to try and rest, to make up for the exhaustion that made her limbs feel heavy and her head buzz with imagined flies. Five minutes and he'd left the medicine den. She was sick of his 'woe is me' attitude, probably because it was the same shit she played at day in and day out. She hated seeing any reflection of herself, and Burnout was the worst when it came to that, second only perhaps to Hollowfrost.

So yes. The pregnant molly bristled with her anger, her irritation shining through her scowling expression, and now she was going to take it out on the one who had clearly crossed her today.

"Get your lying, hypocritical, bleeding ass out here right now."
Nov 11 2017, 03:08 PM
Surprisingly (or not, depending on how much you knew about Superpaw and her 'qualifications') the vigil wasn't... awful. There were small flowers, some barely colourful enough to be used in the ceremony. Granted, the molly herself didn't give two shits about ceremonies. None of it. It was nice for others, apparently, but what did she care? It didn't change anything. They were all dead and no one would come back, and that was that.

So she set it up. With the help of felines larger than her, Stonestar was set before the stone he'd once called meeting from. Set on a decorative nest, the body smelled of lavender and other herbs, hiding the sickly-sweet smell of death. It was a lie, of course -- a comforting illusion for those who would spend the night pressed against their friend, their mentor, their leader, or even the lover they'd never had. She wasn't stupid. She wasn't. But this wasn't for her. It was for everyone else.

Despite her general appearance of misanthropy, she... couldn't deny caring a little. Just a little. Not enough to stick around for the entire thing. No, she had other tasks to accomplish. Stonestar, laid out carefully and left to rest for the night, was not hers to mourn. Others would come and rest near the body, press their noses and weep, shake and sob and grieve. She would watch, for a time. But this vigil was not for her.

It was for Riverclan.
Nov 5 2017, 03:44 PM
Superpaw was having an.... interesting time. She'd felt rather off lately, and because of that, she avoided any sort of interaction that could be misconstrued as being 'social'. It was getting a little more difficult to get around without feeling bloated and gross, and if she had half a mind to do so, she'd visit Patch. Unfortunately, they hadn't spoken in... months. Months, and her heart ached when she thought about it, so instead she chose not to do anything about the current state of things -- and she'd gone along with that notion for the better part of three weeks or so by now.

There were other things she was becoming. Superpaw couldn't look at two cats sharing tongues without suddenly feeling like crying or yelling. She'd taken to curling up in small spaces just to have a constant, gentle pressure on her. It was starting to get past the point of inconvenient and neared the field of 'genuinely concerning'. And then she realised something was very, very wrong.

Because she smelled different. It was only a little off, but it was a smell she vaguely associated with the nursery. Her paranoia was tipped off by that much, but it wasn't until today that -- wait a second.

On the way to the freshkill pile, she strained to figure out what was bothering her. She could hear her own heartbeat - the usual noise of the others around her, and something else. Beat beat beat beat beat-beat-beat-beat -- holy shit she had more than one heartbeat. Sudden terror wracked her, and she stopped in the middle of camp with wide eyes and her (single, her own) heart in her throat.
"Oh my stars I'm fucking pregnant."

Well, she'd like to die now. Karma had grabbed her by the throat and shook her violently and now she was going to die.
Oct 8 2017, 10:00 PM
So. She was supposed to be meeting with Hollowfrost. To be frank, Super wasn't certain what this was all about -- perhaps another attempt to get to know her. Or maybe this was their leader's new tactic to get her to spill about what she knew about the Dark Forest and Bloodclan. That was the least likely scenario though-- Hollow probably wouldn't be as subtle as this. Instead, the apprentice hid her tension regarding the meeting behind her usual sour expression.

What was it? Was he going to banish her? Interrogate her? Cry? Who knew. Maybe he knew something. They all knew too much, eyes diggin into her skin...

The apprentice pursed her lips, waiting.
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