|
|
Post by Kibbles on Sept 30, 2015 20:06:27 GMT
Stagheart smacked his son across the chest, claws unsheathed. He sent Steampaw reeling back, causing him to fall onto his side. The warrior leaped onto the younger cat and inserted his claws into his shoulders. He used his strength to lift Stempaw and slam him into the ground continuously until he could see blood.
"Fight like a real cat, Steampaw! You're an embarrassment! Unsheathe your claws and attack me!" he snarled down at his son. He could see the tears of pain and fear in the corner of his purple eyes and snarled angrily. He slammed him a few more times before leaping off of him.
"Stop your crying!"
"Tornpelt says to keep claws sheathed. We aren't supposed to hurt our clan mates, dad. We aren't supposed to draw blood."
Steampaw whimpered as claws raked across his cheek. He looked up at his father, ears pinned and tail between his legs. He took a few steps back. He wasn't going to use his claws against his father. It wasn't how Tornpelt taught him. He knew better. And yet, he was covered in shallow claw marks and the back of his head had been split open. He could feel his own blood trickling down the back of his neck and down his shoulders and chest.
"Attack me!"
Steampaw shook his head. Another slice of claws to him, but he tried to dodge. Half of his ear was clawed off. He whimpered as he lowered himself to the ground, trying not to get anymore wrath from his father.
"You're an embarrassment! Real cats attack for the kill! So attack me before I kill you!" Stagheart yowled.
Steampaw broke down. He turned and ran off, running as quickly as he could back towards the camp. He ran with a limp and a trail of blood droplets followed behind him. He had to get back to safety. Tornpelt wouldn't let his father hurt him... would she? She wasn't the most friendly cat, but she wasn't ever mean to him. A clanmates protected one another. He was safe with her. He was safe with the cl-
He gasped as he was tackled to the ground and he felt fangs in his throat. He froze as the fangs tightened and tightened. He couldn't breathe. He was going to suffocate. He was going to die. His father was going to kill him. His purple eyes stared up at the moon and stars above him. His vision blurred as he tried to breathe in the fresh forest air. And then, they released. He took a deep breath, coughing.
"You will not tell anybody who did this to you. If you do, I'll kill you next time. You're lucky I'm even giving you another chance." Stagheart snapped before getting off of his son. He turned and headed towards a puddle of water and washed the blood off of his claws and maw.
Steampaw took this chance to finish his way back towards the camp. He entered, although the entrance brushed up against his wounds, causing him to flinch. He stumbled into the clearing and looked around. No one was awake as far as he could tell. Good. He sat down and licked his wounds clean as best as he could and hoped his father wasn't coming back anytime soon.
|
|
|
|
Post by Shad on Sept 30, 2015 23:58:02 GMT
The shadows watched the scene play out without a word. The trees were silent as the young cat's cries rang out to the sky. The roots gave no clench of teeth as the cat, 'Steampaw' was slammed against the ground repeatedly, likely splitting his skull. The murky water did not unsheathe and sheathe its claws as it stood witness to the much larger 'Stag' nearly killing the tom who was his son. But in all of those places, someone did. Someone with deep black fur that moved like smoke and green eyes that burned with fire but were silent as the world around the cats. Those green eyes watched the cats part. One for the clearing to clean. One for the camp. A silent battle waged. This was not the shadow's concern. And yet... Flashes of memory darkened the shadow's green eyes. Very well. Now, for the first time, the shadow moved to make a play in the confusing and dangerous chessboard that made up these 'Warrior Clans'. "Come here."The voice floated like a whisper through the camp entrance, empty of all save the battered tom the whisper's owner sought. It was not commanding, nor was it faint hearted. It simply hung, quietly in the air. Not an order or a plea. It was an offer. -And it was Steampaw's choice if he would take it. "This way. Come."It would lead the tom out of the camp. To the unknown. To a small cluster of tall and thick cypress trees, where the marshes grew so wet and boggy it was hard to tell if mud was under a cat's paws or just very, very murky water. It might be nearby the camp, but few chose to get their paws so wet. It was undesirable -which is exactly what made it desirable now. This was a place where few chose to wander. A place where the apprentice and the shadowy voice would not be watched. |
|
|
|
Post by Kibbles on Oct 3, 2015 21:57:23 GMT
Steampaw turned as a voice reach his ears. Who was that? It didn't sound like anyone he knew. And being curious, he decided to go investigate. So the young tom got to his paw and headed in the direction the voice was coming from. He exited the camp once again and stopped at the edge of the more wet part of the marsh.
He wondered if he should even try. What could be laying in this water...mud...water....stuff? Alligators could be in there and he knew how dangerous those could be. Even so, he looked at the trees and bunched up his muscles. He leaped over the water and dug his front claws into the slightly slippery bark. His hind legs splashed into the water below and he quickly pulled himself out, glaring down at the wetness.
He snorted and looked around. "Where are you? Who are you? Don't you know you're on Marshclan territory?" he asked, just loud enough to be heard in the surrounding area.
|
|
|
|
Post by Shad on Oct 4, 2015 16:58:35 GMT
The tom silently scaled down the tree the apprentice clung to. "I'm here," he mewed simply, from behind. With a kick of powerful legs and a quick leap the tom landed on the tree across from the tom, "I am myself."Another leap brought the tom to the largest tree in the grove. It's roots were a massive tangle of wood that spread out as wide as a cat was long, including his tail. The smokey black figure settled down here, bright eyes watchful. "And I know."The word carried a weight to them that was difficult to discern. He knew about the territory? He knew about March Clan? He knew about... Steampaw? "Let's talk about you though," the tom mewed casually. "That was quite a beating from dear old dad. Stag certainly was not holding back. He would have killed you, could have killed you, and no one would ever know. Inspite of knowing this, you listened to what Tornpelt taught you. You could have ripped into him at any time -and you didn't."The tom's gaze did bore into the apprentice's. "Few cats would do such a thing," he said evenly. "Keep it up and it will get you killed."Whatever direction the young apprentice had thought this conversation was going in, Ink doubted it was this one. Young cats tended to forget their own mortality. They knew pain, they knew agony even, but they could sometimes live under the illusion that they would not die the day the agony got too great. They imagined that the every day pains were something they could grow accustomed to. They thought abuse a daily routine, not a life or death situation every single time. In short, young cats were stupid. Ink would know. He had been one once. "But the fact that you would listen," Ink mused, "that you would reach for patience before rage and peace before battle, sparks my interest. Cats like you are few and far between, Steampaw." |
|
|
|
Post by Kibbles on Oct 5, 2015 20:34:31 GMT
He jumped when the voice came from behind him. It caused him to whip around so he was staring at the cat. The tom had fur as dark as a cloudy night. His purple eyes narrowed as the tom began speaking again. He talked about how Steampaw wouldn't attack his father, how he could have died during that session. What was this cat getting at? What did he want with him?
His ears were perked with interest. This tom knew a lot. He knew that Stagheart was his father, as well as Marshclan's territory. He even knew Steampaw's name. He unsheathed his claws and dug them into the tree, using his tail to balance himself.
"How do you know so much? What do you want with me?" he asked, fur bristling as he got defensive suddenly. He was in no condition to fight, but this cat was sketchy. Of course, he could always yowl for help if he needed to. They were nearby the camp.
|
|
|
|
Post by Shad on Oct 6, 2015 20:09:44 GMT
At this, the dark cat let out a laugh. It was not hearty or deep, but stunted and chuffing. Like he was not accustomed to the practice. Or maybe that was just how he laughed -a sound similar to coughs of smoke bursting out into the air and dissipating just as quickly. "Quite full of yourself, aren't you? What makes you think you could possibly have anything I want?" he asked curiously, cocking his head slightly to the side. "You are already half dead and hardly half grown. The only thing you have currently is the blood flowing in your veins and I should hope you are old enough not to believe in vampire cats anymore."The dark tom smiled. From such a shady character, smiling is not exactly common and the type you would expect involves far too many teeth for comfort or a cold gleam in the creature's eyes that would send any sane cat heading for the hills, or at least back to camp screaming (since that was closer in this case), but that was not the kind of smile the tom gave. It was not friendly. It was not welcoming. It was distant and guarded without a doubt -but it was warm. There was no manic showing of teeth or hostility. If you took out the cold, distant, calculating look in the tom's dark eyes, the smile was almost nice. "As for how I know, I know a lot of things, about a lot of cats. I make it my job to know, and so I do." As if that answered anything. "Regarding you specifically, I supposed you could call me a... concerned citizen," the tom mewed casually. "I told you that you were something special. Would you like to know what that means?"The dark tom's eyes were sharp, never leaving the lavender gaze of the apprentice who stood just a few trees away. There was no laughter in his voice now. No jokes. No teasing or play. His words were as serious as the grave -which this cat might well be in if he walked away. "I means I would train you. If you chose."The world was silent for hardly the span of a heartbeat. "I am not a Warrior. I am not Tornpelt or your father. They will teach you to fight. Your Mentor will show you how to dispatch an enemy honorably. Your father will teach you to kill -by experience if he deems it worthwhile I'm sure. I offer you none of these things. They hold no interest for me."
"But I can teach you to disappear. I can show you how to use the world around you as a shield and vanish from danger without a trace. Your father may threaten you, but he would have to find you first and you would be amazed at how difficult that can be."
"I am offering you an alternative, Steampaw, to fighting your battles head on with a brave face that a stronger opponent will gleefully smash. It is Your Choice if you wish to take it or not."The black tom rose to his paws now, taking a moment to lick down his chest fur more from boredom than necessity, having said his piece and readying to leave. He gave the apprentice a moment to think without dark, haunting eyes staring him down into silence. |
|
|
|
Post by Kibbles on Oct 6, 2015 20:56:10 GMT
This conversation suddenly turned interesting. He looked around, claws sheathing back into his paws. To disappear. That was something he had never seen done. He had only seen cats fight head on, not try and hide and watch. It was something new. It was something useful. If he learned to do this, he could teach it to his apprentices one day.
His purple eyes met the dark ones and he gave a smile. For once on the young tom's face, it wasn't a happy smile. It seemed a tad dark, much like his father's. He felt a surge of energy run through him with the excitement of being able to do something his father wouldn't understand. He could learn this cat's ways and use them against his opponents. To protect himself and his clan. So what was the problem from learning from an outside source?
"You had my attention when you said you could make me disappear. I find it interesting that you picked myself instead of a cat with a darker coat. Yet, I would like to accept your offer. Train me to be able to defeat my enemies," he said.
|
|
|
|
Post by Shad on Oct 6, 2015 21:35:24 GMT
Now, for the first time, the tom's eyes narrowed dangerously. The air of boredom and disinterest was replaced by something sharper. The tom's tail did not lash, or his fur bristle, or any obvious tick that would betray annoyance, but irritation bled from his pelt as surely as if he had bared his teeth or unsheathed a warning claw. "If that is what you wish," he replied tartly. The tom scaled his tree, climbing upward and around to the other side and disappearing from sight. The marsh was quiet. The cypress trees held only quiet chatter from their far up leaves. The water held faint ripples from the lurking fish but was noiseless. Sunlight filled the cluster of trees, eliminating any shadows that might have hidden a cat on their trunks or attempted to climb up far into their branches. "Go home."The voice was in another direction now. The dark tom was behind Steampaw, crouched in front of a by which the two had passed in coming to this place. His dark eyes held no mercy or sign of relenting. They were hard and cold as the blackest night of Leafbare. "The shadows have no use for enemies. They have no use for battle. You think to use them to defeat those that have wronged you? I will break the illusion now: It will never work.""Even if you learned all I had to teach, even if you were some day able to mimic my movements and methods flawlessly, you would be thwarted by the most basic and most powerful of forces: Instinct."
"I am able to move about these lands freely. I can pass by any cat without even their merest whisper of a shadow crossing their mind, because that is all I am. I am a shadow. I mean nothing to them and they mean nothing to me. If I were to change that, to feel anger or malice, to wish ill on a cat, their instinct would find me out before the end of the first moon.""I shall repeat myself, just this once and no more: I cannot teach you to fight, Steampaw. Using such a way, you might gain an upperpaw for a short time, but it would not last and then the world would crash down on you just as it attempts to do now. You will have wasted you time -and mine.""I offer you a way to hide. A way to escape from battle, not manipulate it. If that is the path you wish to walk, I would offer it to you now. Not because of your coat, or because of any sort of 'potential' I see in you. Honestly, you are a white cat and as conscious as a mountain," the tom mewed sharply, but now his green eyes softened ever so slightly. "I offer because you have heart, boy. Because when given the chance to cause harm, you chose not to. Too many cats let the world make them cruel. Too many cats lose themselves in battle or war. Good cats. Lost forever. I see goodness in you, Steampaw. I would give you a way to avoid violence. You will never make your father proud. You will never make a great name for yourself in the field of battle, although you might one day as a peacemaker, but that is all."
"This is what I offer. This is what you would choose. If you want glory, vengeance, or even justice as some would call it, there is the path back into the light, back to your camp and your Warriors and all that you know. After all, I am just some rogue that lives out here in the wild. What do I know of valor or honor or greatness? No one will even know this moment passed. Even you will forget in time."
"But, if you only wish to escape, if you want to live by something other than tooth and claw, by something your father would call cowardice and others would call wisdom, then now is your time."
"Both choices are valuable ones, and the one your pick will shape you, perhaps irreversibly. You can have glorious war, or dull peace. The door is right there and I have no intent to stop you." |
|
|
|
Post by Kibbles on Oct 10, 2015 0:58:07 GMT
Steampaw looked at him. He looked in the direction of the camp for a moment and then back at the cat in front of him. He couldn't use it to fight? Why not? Being able to be sneaky was useful in fights, wasn't it? Taking your opponents by surprise was something that he could use. And maybe he would, but he wouldn't mention that.
"Whats the catch? I can still be in my clan, right?" he asked, looking at the dark furred brute with careful eyes. He looked for any sort of sign that he had to leave Marshclan. It wouldn't be worth it. He liked it here. He wanted to stay with Tornpelt, Patchpaw, and Turtlefrost.
"I'm not going to leave my home for this training. I'd rather stay here with my abusive father. I have friends here, after all. And they aren't worth leaving. I don't want them to think badly of me."
|
|
