Warrior Cats: A RPG

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44.

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Oct 13 2017, 02:38 AM
/i'm sorry but I HAD A NEW CHARACTER THAT HAD TO HAPPEN


Despite the best efforts of Eldritch and others interested in their survival, 44 had not stopped bleeding. The first cut they'd gotten in Bloodclan, and they were nearly bled out. Lain on their side, with the sticky coverings on their paw doing nothing to stem the blood flow anymore, the child chittered and clicked much slower than usual, still somehow entertained by the whole thing.

They were going to die very, very soon. Within minutes perhaps. The child grasped at the ground, shifting dust as they struggled to stand. They hadn't spent a good time digging their own grave only to die in some other corner of camp. But the lack of blood drained their energy, and 44 could barely stand, let alone begin the 30 foot journey to the graves.

Panting, the child chittered their broken glass laughter once more. A decent metaphor. An early death, 30 feet from the grave.
Oct 1 2017, 11:56 PM
It was going so very well.

44 wasn't loved and accepted or anything, but they had a place to live. It wasn't full of procreation and death and disease. Well, at least, not in an enclosed space. There was available food, no one trespassed without suffering. There was a sense of... safety in this group. That was likely the reason that 44 was finding themselves so wildly uncomfortable. Safety was uneasy for them -- fake. So they found themselves disturbed. Not every moment was spent on guard, and now their habit of half-sleeping was more harmful than anything. Rather than being half-awake to allow for alertness should someone try to eat them or attack them, now they simply didn't sleep deeply enough to allow for higher functions. Thinking, speaking, movement beyond a small, enclosed area... it all spelt change, and 44 struggled to adapt to a less... consistently deadly area.

So for the third time in the last hour, the juvenile runt crept out from their hidey-hole away from most others and chose to wander until exhaustion pulled them under. It was past dawn, but worth trying.

It was a solid plan. Except that they didn't notice the stray piece of bone in their path. The stray piece of bone that pricked their paw. For anyone else, it was a minor inconvenience. But 44 sucked in a breath of shock, then froze. Their paw was raised, and already there was a thin trickle of blood stemming from the minor, minor scratch. A flurry of incomprehensible movements fled across their face. Then, the child... started laughing? Performing the chittering cackle that was their version of such an expression, anyways. Then, they settled down, sat down, and in a tone of wonder, spoke.

"Bad way to die. Very stupid."
Sep 19 2017, 09:14 PM
The creature skittered along in the shadows. Now, they did this often enough to find this par for the course, but there was a slight modification from the usual times. Instead of skittering along with God knew what stained on their coat and odd hard objects matted into the fur, there was a sheen of red misted over the half-cream critter. The chimera felt blood drying in sloppy patterns, looking less like they'd attacked someone, and more like they'd crawled through something dead or dying.

But dangling from their split lip was a small collar, not cut in any way but rather preserved, the fabric not torn. Despite the size of the collar, whatever had worn it beforehand was larger than 44 -- not a difficult feat. Did the creature eat? Perhaps they didn't.

Still, they slunk past the border lines and dropped the collar, tail flicking idly as they awaited a senior warrior to acknowledge their feat. Now perhaps they were going to find a more permanent area in the camp, within the borders. Perhaps they could find themselves in a nice nest soon, less concerned about who would eat them next.

Heh. Funny.

The chimera cocked their head and said naught. Patient.
Aug 6 2017, 10:17 PM
They hadn't travelled this far into the abandoned city on their own just yet. The business tended to operate in the populated places, where humans dropped pieces of half-eaten food and the monsters were but an everyday occurrence. They had no reason to go further -- they certainly couldn't hunt and had never had the need to when everything was just a dumpster or beg away. But word had reached the child of another group, and when their own was so... desolate, it was no surprise that they wandered to try and find someone who belonged to this new group.

However, surprise of all surprises, this group had a particular territory. Rather than members roaming freely, they congregated in one rather, marked by scent lines and a definite area. How foreign, odd. The misproportioned apprentice wandered to the edge of the scent lines and over, curious beyond the desire to veer away. The mutated child, rail-thin and moving sickly, crouched just beyond the scent line -- waiting.
Aug 5 2017, 05:14 PM
They had gone missing for some time, disappearing out of the streets in a swift wind, the scurried child gone in moments. But now, the ratty brat was back, creeping along an alley with shuffling steps and a fuming discontent that seemed to permeate the very cells of their being. Ah yes, they'd been taken away from the street, picked up by nofurs -- and surprisingly no lab had come as a result. Just an animal shelter, vaccinations, poking and prodding and --

Ugh. Their fur was smoother, they had more meat on their bones, and overall they walked as though they were entirely uncomfortable with the whole of their being. And why not? Examinations and discomfort wrought havoc on the poor kid, and more than anything, they just wanted to find some other business members and... be home. Or a sibling, maybe.

Ugh. 44 was tired.
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