grovepaw. doesn't have a custom title currently.
Location: No Information
Born: No Information
Website: No Information
Played By: skypher
Custom Title: paranormal investigator
Joined: 27-May 17
Last Seen: Aug 16 2017, 09:37 PM
Local Time: Aug 18 2017, 06:38 AM
167 posts (2 per day)
( 0.96% of total forum posts )
Aug 10 2017, 03:01 PM
Grovepaw climbed to the moonstone, tears in his eyes. They had to be watching them. They had to have a plan with this. Why would they take both Rockjoint and Cherrystar in such a short amount of time? The clan was in shambles. Everyone was in a constant state of panic. It was like Starclan didn’t even care.
The apprentice left in the night, while everyone was asleep. He did not want to be followed. He needed to speak with them alone. He needed to get to the bottom of this. The turkish van sat in front of the moonstone. It glowed and shimmered in the night light glow. He stared at it as if it were a foreign object. A taboo idea. He’s never spoken to starclan alone. What if they were angry? He couldn’t handle being yelled at right now. The apprentice shut his eyes and pulled in a deep breath. His ears pinned back as he exhaled, touching his nose to the rock. Starclan, He called out, Please talk to me this night. I need to know what's going on. Your clan is suffering. Your people are suffering. Please tell me there is a meaning to all of this madness. He waited a minute. Two minutes. Ten minutes. He opened his eyes. There was… no response. They were not listening. The boy’s ears pinned back as he sharply turned around, rushing back to camp.
He silently ran across the camp, climbing up into the leader’s den. He ran over, nudging Silverstar with his nose. He sobbed, ears pinned back. Silverstar… he muttered, I-I went to the moonstone to clear my head of this madness… a-and… a and… he sniffled, wiping his eyes of the tears falling down, They didn’t answer me. They’re not watching us anymore…
Aug 8 2017, 10:13 AM
So he was medicine cat now. Nice. He was so stressed he could hardly think straight. The Turkish Van sighed, rubbing at his aching forehead. The least he could do is teach the clan how to heal themselves in case he was not available. Is anyone willing to learn about some medicines? he asked out to the small crowd in camp. His voice was hoarse and nervous, something he picked up after his mentor died. Since Rockjoint left, he has become nervous and unsure of himself. Grovepaw was constantly double checking his work and giving himself second thoughts.
Aug 7 2017, 01:27 PM
First Cherrystar, now this. Was Thunderclan cursed? When will this reign of terror end?? Grovepaw sprinted out of the medicine cat den, tear pouring down his green eyes. He turned around the camp, his vision blurred. He turned his head down, ears pinned back. He sniffled, his back going stiff as he shut his eyes. Rockjoint is dead! The poor cat cried out. He sat down, rubbing his nose and eyes to rid of the dropping liquids. He’s been sick. The moron’s been sick and he told no one. He did nothing to stop it. The turkish van opened his eyes, his gaze locked on the ground. He left me in charge. We couldn’t even go to the moonstone to get my name. He called me Grovekeeper unofficially. Would starclan be angry? Was Rockjoint even up there? He can’t just leave like that! He has to help me! Grovepaw, now Grovekeeper, was only nine moons old. He was extremely unprepared to have the entire clan’s health and future on his shoulders. What to do, what to do… He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe.
Jun 24 2017, 01:52 PM
The clans have been peaceful lately. Grovepaw guessed he could spend some time on actually making some friends instead of being a butt in his den all day. He winced as he padded into camp, ears pinned back. He swallowed his pride, sitting down. He looked around nervously before clearing his throat. Anyone wanna play truth or dare?
//this is a casual thread so I'm gonna be posting mostly with just dialogue. c:
Jun 23 2017, 12:46 PM
Life was a very interesting thing. It was hard to appreciate how gentle and fragile it was until you experienced it from all angles. Cats appreciated cat life (and bunny life now with Duke around). Grovepaw, strangely enough, appreciated all life. He started at a young age, questioning the will of the animals the clan ate day in and day out. Did they have a family? Rules and rituals much like they did? Did they live every day in fear of being caught? It was questions like these that made him soft. It made him unable to hunt and help his clan (which, in his mind, eventually lead to him becoming a medicine cat apprentice). It was hard having this mindset. He was an outcast. He was alone. His thoughts, to many, was blasphemy.
To find out Cherrystar agreed and greenlit his project was something that came to a shock to him. It was… interesting to say the least. He remembered his eyes lighting up, a smile spreading across his face. He was so grateful the leader would let him continue to raise his feathered little friends. So. He did. Day after day. He wondered if anyone noticed him taking more fresh kill than usual. Or how many feathers lined and covered his pelt every day coming home from herb searches. They were little details, but they stuck out like a deer in the headlights. A red herring. What could he be up to? Where was he going every day?
Everyone knew Grovepaw was good at climbing trees. He was very skillful at clinging onto the dusty bark of the thunderclan oaks, propelling himself up the trunks with high speed and grace. He almost could run up the trees. But… where had he gotten the practice? Near the great sky oak was a small oak tree. It had a hole that was home to a clawful of abandoned owlets. Barn owls. Grovepaw had no personal idea where the bird’s parents had gone, but he was in no hurry to find out. He brought them food, raised them back to health. He spend many long days and nights studying how birds fly. He would teach these creatures to live. He would teach them to survive with clan life. He was not sure if they would ever learn how to speak cat, but they picked up on a bit of cat sign language. They were smart creatures.
They quickly became ten weeks of age. They were starting to grow anxious and learn to glide. Grovepaw supposed it was time to introduce them to the clan. He wondered how many strange looks he got strolling into camp with miniature barn owls clung onto his back. They got heavier, he’d admit. The male sighed, nudging them to sit on the ground. He rubbed at his forehead, turning out to the crowd that was inevitably forming. What would he even say to them? He could feel his mouth and throat going dry. He was tired enough as it is. So. He croaked, his voice hoarse. Before you freak out, These owls are good. I’ve raised them since their parents left them. Cherrystar is one hundred percent aware of what's going on and we both have this under control. He lied down on the ground, letting the owlets curiously poke at his fur. He rolled a paw, letting it fall back to the dirt. Okay. You can freak out now if you want. He knew it was going to happen anyways.