[♛] —— ＳＴＩＬＬ ＡＳ Ａ ＳＴＯＮＥ ! (closed, starting)

[linkmama]

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"To thee that shall enter thy shrine;
The more thy moves, the stiller thy
shall become. Choose ignore this sign,
and in moon's time, turn cold."

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StoneClan once lived a peaceful society. They had settled
within their beloved caved home for hundreds of moons, a
ncestors traveling thousands of miles to reach a place whe
re future generations should prosper. Deep within a cave, w
here they thrived for as long as the living cats can recall. A
lthough, there is a part to the fable that most cats believe t
he elders only tell to scare the kits. Engraved in the leader's
den - in which no cat is allowed to enter but the leader him
self - is a terrible curse. It is believed, that in some time, if
the cats decide to get a little too comfy, they will be turne
ned to stone. Most believe it a lie; but somehow, the leader
himself knows it is true. He has eyes of it. And living to ign
ore it, as past generations have, has been the tradition for
all leaders in the past. Now, a problem is beginning to aris
e as numerous cats in the clan show signs of paralysis. Eve
ntually, this will turn the cats still as statutes - literally.

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Six healthy cats, each chosen by the leader, will underta
ke on a perilous journey to find a new camp for their clan.
There, they are told to repopulate and create a new clan f
or the future generations. The ignorance of younger cats h
had led them to this fate. The cats will recreate a new hom
e for themselves and others, forcing down guilty and leavin
g the cats at camp to turn into rock-hard statues of themselves.

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[linkmama]

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i. no god-modding. this means that you cannot control anybody else's character, nor make your own inv
incible.going along with this, do not make your character the center of the story. we are all significant.

ii. follow all of tess' rules. i will not tolerate anything that violates her rules -- they're there for a reason,
after all. i will not hesitate to kick you from the roleplay and have you replaced if this happens.

iii. please only sign up with one character. since this is a limited roleplay, i only ask that you use one cha
racter to let other people have a chance.

iv. please be active. this i cannot stress enough! there are limited spots on this roleplay, and without you,
the plot cannot continue! consider signing up ONLY IF you are willing to devote you time and patience
to this roleplay.

v. have good grammar + post at least two-hundred fifty words. this roleplay is in the semi-lit to lit section,
so i am expecting those that sign up fit into this category. one of my greatest pet peeves is run-on sente
nces, so please be sure to have good grammar. post enough so everyone can respond with at least somet
hing significant.

vi. post all characters on the discussion thread. nothing much to explain here. keep this thread neat.

vii. deactivate your signatures when posting. same thing as above. want to keep everything neat here c:

[linkmama]

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name. antheart
gender . nonbinary
age . 36 moons
role . deputy

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name. larkfeather
gender . she-cat
age . 28 moons
role . med cat

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name. driftpaw
gender . tom
age . 12 moons
role . med. cat app.

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name. privetfeather
gender . she-cat
age . 24 moons
role . warrior

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name. pipitwhisker
gender . she-cat
age . 35 moons
role . warrior

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name. rooknose
gender . tom
age . 35 moons
role . warrior

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name. hawkpaw
gender . tom
age . 10 moons
role . apprentice

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name. mothpaw
gender . she-cat
age . 10 moons
role . apprentice

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[linkmama]

reserved just in case!

[linkmama]

reserved just in case!

[linkmama]

post all forms on the discussion thread!

[linkmama]

( `☁ -- l a r k f e a t h e r ! )
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( ● gender. cisfemale ) ( ● age. twenty-eight moons. ) ( ● rank. med cat ) ( ● location. forest ) ( ● feeling. tense ) ( ● tagged. open )


xxxxxAnxious, speckled hazel eyes scanned the path ahead of them, unsteady paws treading with caution. She trembled at the slightest sound, pausing every so often to check about her. Something stirred within the she-cat's chest that felt like someone had lightly touched her, though despite this, she had fallen. The steady outside the cat had built around herself began to unravel, sunken eyes and a face older than it should be betraying this. Larkfeather had been sane for so long, and to think something so quick could ruin her so easily. Words rang in her ears that she was sure would never truly leave. Larkfeather... meet me by the old willow at Moonhigh tomorrow. Bring no one but yourself. If anyone sees you slip out, make sure they are not following your path. Cover your tracks. Something in the leader's voice might have led her, if she hadn't known better, to think he was a bit off his head. His tone was ragged and crooked, as if unsure of itself. Cragstar was a calm, collective cat, and this had worried her. But ever since his hind appendages had gone stiff -- prescribed as paralysis by yours truly -- he had seemed older than himself. He was not the only one; a large group of the clan had seemed to have droopy actions. They no longer desired to hunt, fight, train their apprentices. And worst of all, all featured similar forms of paralysis. Larkfeather had not yet experienced anything like this, though she was unsettled by the thought that she could never move her limbs again. A new fear had sprung up in that moment she realized the clan was in a deep pit of trouble.

xxxxxAs Larkfeather had acknowledged the leader's words, she had noticed he followed, with caution, a warrior into their den. A sick feeling had risen inside her stomach after that moment. She heard his words repeated to other cats as the hours ticked by. Each wore the same hollowed expression as she. And now, a bright, perfect circle arose in the middle of the ebony horizon above. At times, Larkfeather grew jealous of the cats above. Watching those down below, and their only offer of communication was a rare omen. Living in luxury; lounging upon cloud nests, sipping on the finest springs, and hunting without ever losing energy. No famine or droughts; never any sort of problem. And though she knew they ought to be respected, as they had served their time on the earth, Larkfeather had kept to herself for a long while. About the injustice from the clouds.

xxxxxDistraught and terribly confused, she tried to remember back to the tales elders used to tell her when she was a kit. She, among numerous others, were petrified. One in particular had frightened her so much that her mother literally had to drag her back into camp. Tales about stone cats that would chase a clan from their own territory. Their fur was no more, replaced with layers of sturdy rock. Bright, unforgiving white eyes and jerky, uneven movements. At the center of their chest where they hearts should be were small pits of ebony. Said to be one of the darkest materials on earth -- known so far by the clans. Larkfeather had nightmares from that moment on, about frozen cats that would spread their stone-like disease through the cats of her clan. But it would never reach her. The dreams had dwindled now, but every moon or so, they would come back to haunt her.

xxxxxUnsteady paws had found themselves a few fox-lengths past the proclaimed meeting spot of the cats... perhaps it would just be her and Cragstar? She had no idea. If there were others, they hadn't arrived yet. A brief sniff had ensured her isolation. She was so lost in thought it seemed the cat hadn't been paying attention, seemingly sleepwalking through the territory. Larkfeather had considered herself lucky to not be caught by a patrol of some sort. She backpedaled slightly, her movements like that of a frightened bird. All she had to do was wait. But for who? Cragstar? The other cats? Perhaps it was just a death sentence. These days, not one cat could tell.

[Greenleaf]

--------[ ♚ ] ＲＯＯＫＮＯＳＥ
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age thirty-five moons | mood wary, suspicious | location willow | tagged Larkfeather

Rooknose felt as though every tuft of fur on his pelt was standing on edge. His shoulders were drawn up so stiffly with tension that they ached, and though he usually prided himself on his ability to move silently, he couldn't help but think he could hear every single one of his pawsteps coming down too heavily on the forest floor, sending hundreds of tiny vibrations through the ground that could alert any sharp-sensed enemy to his presence. It was ridiculous, of course. He knew he was being careful, and he knew it was his only own nervousness that seemed to heighten every one of his senses to an impossible degree and kept making him see movement where there was none. His vision and nose were sharp enough that it would be next to impossible to ambush him, especially in his state of tense awareness, and his ears were so finely attuned to any possible audial disturbance that he was feeling the strain of keeping them so tautly upright. And yet his eyes kept darting to and fro, jumping and flinching at every shadow, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite get the hairs on the back of his neck to lie flat.

For what seemed like the countless time that night, he wondered what on earth had possessed him to come out on a dark night like this for such a seemingly nonsensical command. Rooknose considered himself a practical cat. Though he was not Clanborn, he had made it a goal since he first joined to learn as much as possible about the Clan's history and lore. For the most part he considered himself successful; all those long evenings sitting patiently in the elders' den hearing their stories had paid off, and though he was not the most avid of storytellers, he knew he was at the very least capable of giving accurate albeit not immensely entertaining accounts of StoneClan legends. He did, however, have limits; though he did his best to respect omens and the old beliefs, he still held a somewhat skeptical view of StarClan, for example. And though he did believe some of the more realistic legends were rooted in factual history of some kind, he had always viewed the fanciful stories as pleasant to listen to but ultimately just that - stories, and nothing more, playful warnings to give to kits and young apprentices but nothing for a fully-grown warrior to worry about. Only now it seemed his long-ingrained beliefs and working knowledge of the world as it was were beginning to fall apart before his eyes, and he kept finding himself forced to reevaluate things he had never before considered, or had dismissed in the past as nothing but folklore and impossibilities.

Paralysis. Lethargy. A frightening dullness in the eyes of those he had slowly learnt to trust over the moons since he first joined. Disease, his mind had first insisted. It is a strange sickness and nothing more. It was worrying, but they had survived worse in the past. It was nothing a moon, hard work, and careful quarantine wouldn't fix. But that didn't explain the continuing deterioration of the afflicted cats and the new rigidity to their fur, or the supposed illness's disturbing similarity to one of the more sensational tales of StoneClan lore; nor did it explain why certain cats, like him, weren't being affected (though that didn't stop his damnably jittery mind from inventing moments when he thought his limbs were stiffer than usual, or if that tiredness he'd felt waking up that morning was just a bit too heavy to be normal).

Rooknose respected Cragstar for being a competent leader, and was grateful to him for having accepted him into the Clan all those moons ago. However, this only made the leader's most recent words to him even more unnerving than they already were. "Meet me by the old willow by moonhigh tomorrow. Tell no one. Ensure you aren't seen or followed." Straightforward instructions, but, given the situation, incredibly unusual ones, and very uncharacteristic of the leader. What could possibly be the purpose of summoning him to this secret meeting? If this really was about the strange sickness - for what else could it be about? - then he would be of no use, not being a medicine cat or possessing any healing skills beyond the most basic knowledge of stop-the-bleeding. He had too many questions and no answers whatsoever, and one thing Rooknose detested above all else was not being suitably prepared before entering a situation of any kind.

And yet he was here, and he was as scared as anything despite how much he hated to admit it, and before long he found himself approaching the small clearing, gloomy in the moonlight, with his heart in his throat and feeling cold as ice beneath his thick coat.

A flash of movement from the other side of the willow nearly stopped his heart, and he had his claws unsheathed and a nervous snarl building in his throat before he recognized that long-haired white chest and brown pelt, not to mention the distinctive scent wafting his way. "...Larkfeather?" he finally deigned to call out uneasily, trying to hide an involuntary tremor in his voice. A myriad of suspicions rose in his mind before he forced them down. She couldn't possibly had followed him here - he would've noticed. And she was the medicine cat, after all, which made her the most trustworthy cat in the Clan besides Cragstar himself. Nonetheless... "What are you doing here?" Perhaps he hadn't been the only cat summoned, and others would be arriving soon. It certainly made far more sense than having just being summoned here by himself.

[sprightly]

DriftPaw
Gender. male Age. 12 moons Rank. Medicine Cat App. Emotion. Nervous; On edge Location. Forest Tags. RookNose; LarkFeather

DriftPaw knew himself to be a calm cat. Nothing broke his cool, he was always as chill as the snow which fell during a cold night. He was required to be this way. Otherwise, his clanmates might pay for it. Yet today, for the first time he could recall, he wasn't calm. He lost his cool, the snow had melted. The snow which once had a grasp upon his head ran down to his limbs. He had never shaken before yet now when he stopped the rapid movement of his paws his body shook. Was he anxious? He did not know, the word was so foreign now. He had used it before to describe his fellow clanmates yet at this moment the meaning of the word escaped him. That word had never been fired back at him by another, let alone by himself of all cats. He however just assumed the word suited him at that moment, as arguments with himself over words would help no one.

He wondered if anyone could notice his inner panic. It had not stopped since he had spoken with his leader. The words had echoed in his mind. Rocking against the edges of his brain as if trying to break free. He wish they could just go and leave him oblivious. The leader's tone was not that same tone he had heard many times addressing the clan, it was different.. It was unsure and rough, and all DriftPaw could wonder is what possibly could of lead that noble cat to his fall from grace. DriftPaw had let himself believe that the paralysis had been bad luck at most, but now he was unsure.

Two was a coincidence, but three was odd. It was much more then three.. Friend, foe, and acquaintance, they all seem burdened with the same symptoms appearing. At times like these he wondered when it may grasp him as well, if at all. He thought, how had CragStar felt to suddenly wake up with no use of his hind legs. This lead to even scarier thoughts, like how would it affect DriftPaw if he lost control of his body parts. Would he waste away? DriftPaw shook his head a bit, he did not want to scare himself. So he focused on his paw steps and surroundings. Why did forests seem so eerie at such the wrong times? He decided to count his paw steps. That might be what cured this horrible dread in his stomach. "One..Two..Three..Five.." He stopped himself. He thought he forgot a number. He moved his head closer to his shoulders. He had forgotten four, now he knew he was out of his element. He started to wonder to himself when the forest had become so loud. It sounded deafening and yet did not hurt his ears. Only his head paid the toll. The forest seemed to be screaming at him.

He hurried along starting to walk faster. Slowly, his walk turned to a run and then a sprint. He had to escape this sound. His ears started to hurt from how hard he pushed them against his head but that was not his problem. Suddenly, he heard two voices. He stopped himself in his tracks. The words of CragStar echoed in his mind. "Tomorrow at MoonHigh meet me at the old willow by yourself, and make sure you are not followed. Let no one know of any of this." He pushed himself towards the ground and slunk towards the sounds. He had heard warriors talk of being downwind of the prey. He sure hoped he was downwind now. Every movement of his seemed to leave some sort of rustle. The sound pounded in his ears and he only hoped it wasn't as loud to the other cats. He noticed the willow in the distance. DriftPaw's mind first went to the thought that they had overheard CragStar when he was talking to him. As he slunk even closer he finally noticed the scent of the cats. One of them was his mentor, and the other was RookNose he believed. He soon became less tense as he took note of his mentor's scent. It was then the possibility CragStar had told her as well appeared in his mind. The real question was why RookNose was there. DriftPaw did not know the cat well.

He then stepped on a twig which snapped under his paw. He wished he knew how to hunt at that moment. He lifted himself from his crouched position and sat down upon his haunches. He thought his ears could not of gotten any flatter. Whether they noticed the snapping of the twig or not he had ended up giving himself away due to the getting up. It became a tiny bit clearer as to why DriftPaw had become a medicine cat apprentice at that time. He had decided to get up from his sitting position and walked over. "So...What brings you two here?" He said in the most casual voice he could muster when in his freaked out state. Sadly, he was not a good actor.