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Warrior Cats: A RPG

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Rank: MCA
Gender: Male
Played By: Numbie
Custom Title: 繊細 || DELICATE
Joined: 25-January 18
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Yesterday at 06:34 pm
Local Time: May 24 2018, 10:45 AM
50 posts (0.4 per day)
( 0.14% of total forum posts )
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My Content
May 9 2018, 06:36 AM

If one were to ask anyone of Bloodclan about their timid little plague nurse, they would be quick to know that the copper splattered tomcat was not doing too well as of late. Since the week Lightningkit had been stolen and Copperpaw had been ruthlessly beaten in an attempt to defend him from his fate, the half-blinded boy was even more tormented and haunted than he usually had been. He cried in his sleep and often mumbled conversations beneath his breath where he'd speak to souls others could not see. In the eyes of Bloodclan, he was probably seen as mad.

With Opal and Witch now under his watchful eye, the tortoiseshell apprentice supposed that now would be a good time to get himself in check, to keep himself from shoving the two young children away by his psychotic episodes and horrific breakdowns. He needed to recover and he needed a distraction, anything that he could put his focus on, anything other than the spirits that screamed in his mind and the memories that haunted him.

Finding a small patch of earth close to Bloodclan's camp, the ebony-and-ginger adolescent had plopped himself down and had begun to dig at the undergrowth, pulling grass and sprouting wildflowers from its roots to expose fertile soil hidden beneath the layer of vegetation. His goal? To build a garden. He had often observed twolegs tending to earth and planting grains that sprouted into the prettiest of flowers or the largest of crops, he had observed how it worked and how they managed such a thing.
With herbs difficult to find at times, the plague nurse guessed that perhaps a similar system would benefit the entirety of Bloodclan and for future generations of Plague healers to come.
Apr 25 2018, 07:58 PM

Poor little Copperpaw had failed as a Bloodclanner. Despite all the effort he had put into rescuing his little brother and despite the countless fatal blows that he received through his struggling, Lightningkit had been taken far beyond Bloodclan borders and Copper was left scarred by the interaction. Criss-crossing his tortoiseshell body were several fresh scars that bled out crimson that would clot into his coat. His torn eye had clouded over completely, it's former olive shade disappearing behind a film of opaque glossy white whilst the opposing ear too was left tattered by claws aiming to kill.

He came into camp a spluttering, blood-stained mess that tainted the floor of Bloodclan territory with trickles of pouring vermillion from the wounds of his core. His eyes and nose leaked and he could barely speak, barely even stand. He had been shaking so much all he could do was curl up and sob out inaudible apologies and words of shame and self-hatred.

It had been a few days since then, and now that Copperpaw was physically recovering, his mental state grew worse. He often wailed at night when spirits visited his sights, he often grew frantic when he felt as if he was stuck in his dreams when in reality, he was very much awake. One eye seemed to have always been in a haze while the other in light - it horrified him, especially when the clouded one was witnessing spirits, especially when he should have been blind.

Rolled onto his back, the boy was sobbing, his tummy exposed in a submissive motion as one paw covered his blinded eye, heaving from his lungs came the following words;
"P-please, I didn't meant t-to I-I'm sorry - I s-swear I tried!"
The boy was haunted by souls only visible to him.

Feb 14 2018, 05:35 PM
The poor tom did not know why exactly the spirits were more active at night time, perhaps it was because living souls were resting, or maybe the darkness enticed them. Little Copperkit knew many things but the answer to that question forever remained inconclusive, leaving the poor tortie tormented when others drifted into peaceful sleep. Whatever shut eye the poor minuscule boy would gain would be a result of acute sleep deprivation and tonight that was the case. Within the nursery,
the apprentice-aged boy was sprawled over the nesting of the den, toes twitching and expression wrinkling with the awful vision dreams cast down upon him, lithe muscles clenching and releasing in the midst of his sleep.

Behind closed lids, he'd see a tom cat, one with a coat that matched the shade of ash and splattered with flecks of cinder, eyes burning amber as he'd batter a female - a lithe black molly he often saw in his dreams - his mother. Behind closed eyes the child would cry at the sight, only to have the spirit lunge for him and spit his vile words through ferocious hissing poor Copperkit couldn't make out as the molly stooping beneath his claws would wail no and please, her sobs glistening with the glow that innocent spirits carried.
He is just a child!
The mere cry coming from the female sent the brute to haul himself towards Copperkit, pinning him underneath his massive weight and before a paw would slash at his body--

He woke up, eyes finally fixing into the interior of the nursery as he was shook with a cry, jumping onto feet and stumbling outside to curl and wheeze into a flurry of sobs and hiccups, paws raising to feel overtop his chest and body to see if he had been slashed in any way, trembling madly in the midst of his shock, quivering in camp for eyes to see.

Feb 9 2018, 07:52 PM
Copperkit was a timid young fellow, terrified of the future and startled by the smallest thing that would every straw before his very path. He had little guts, little glory, traits most Bloodclanners seemed to have but he? He lacked it and it quite frankly left him uneasy and his self-esteem quite withered. While his denmates strived to fight, to indulge in combat and bloodshed he had little strive to fulfil what a warrior was meant to complete.

When night took the region, the young tom was wracked awake by whispers left and right, voices of uneasy spirits which saw no rest, saw no slumber. His wide emerald eyes trembling as he'd curl a tail around himself, desperate for comfort and for the relief of this burden settled upon him, tears now almost welling at his ducts as souls would pound at his overwhelmed mind.

Sleep was not going to take him anytime soon, so silently the young tortie would pick himself up and exit the nursery for some air, for some silence within his brain but even as he stood within camp, his attention was grasped.

Iron hung heavy in the air like an ancient tainture weighing down the atmosphere, the product settled deep within his lungs as he took a whiff and slowly he'd stalk towards where this scent spilt from -- The medicine den.
At the entrance he would catch sight of Venus working away like always did, but this time with an entire body that stunk with death and was split down the midsection to reveal each and every organ so perfectly entangled between one another and inserted into the puzzle that was the internal anatomy.

Copperkit was never one for gore but this?... He could make an exception.
Silently, he'd watch, hoping to go by as unnoticed by the plague doctor who quite honestly intimidated him, but almost everyone seemed menacing in his eyes

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