[Yuroshi]

Username;;
Cat Name;;
Gender;;
Age;;
Clan;;
Rank;;

Prompt;; (2500 words + 3 extras are optional)
MARK

[Chaosin]

Username;; Chaosin
Cat Name;; Dandelionwish
Gender;; Female
Age;; 24 moons
Clan;; BournClan (will link one day)
Rank;; Warrior

Prompt;; (2500 words + 3 extras are optional)

wip. res with what they will become/themselves/their past/idek.

[Hengst]

Username;; Hengst
Cat Name;; Lionsong | Previously Lionkit, Lionpaw
Gender;; Cismale (He/him)
Age;; 33 moons
Clan;; Plagueclan
Rank;;

Prompt;; (2500 words + 3 extras are optional)

[Koráki]

Mark!

[Mythz]

Username;; Mythz
Cat Name;; Flametail
Gender;; Tom
Age;; x Moons
Clan;; [url=x]Wishclan[/url]
Rank;; Soldier or possibly Skirmish

Prompt;; (2500 words + 3 extras are optional)
Wip!
Res. w/ overcoming his fears which he prefers to reference as 'his enemies'
possible fears;
- the dark
- failing
- losing a battle
- losing a loved one

this fella is adorable!!!

[Cinxer]

Username;; babypizza
Cat Name;; tangledwhisker
Gender;; male
Age;; 20 moons
Clan;; oakclan
Rank;; warrior

Prompt;; res with connecting to other cats

[Yellow.]

Warrior | Ridgeclan | 54 moons | tom
For form click picture

[EchoVoyd]

Username;; Faededfyre
Cat Name;; Timberscream
Gender;; Tom
Age;; 100 moons
Clan;; The Valley of Whistling Winds
Rank;; Elder

Prompt;;
A bundle of kits gathered round the strangely coated elder, each squeaking a different string of words but each asking for the same thing. A story. How did he get his name? Why is his coat so strange? Why does he have that limp? An older cat, a rather quiet apprentice up until this point, raised her voice. “How about you tell all of us about your greatest battle?” The elder smiled, his favourite story to tell, the best one too. He nodded in her direction, ignoring the confused looks of the kits as they tried to figure out why such an old cat would have the time to be here. “Ah, yes, good choice. My favourite story to tell actually. It all began on a rather pleasant greenleaf-- no, newleaf afternoon. I was with a small group of the clan: Fernstar, Stormrunner and a couple other privileged warriors and apprentices. It was the moon’s meeting with the colony on the other side of the river - you might get to go one day too, you know. It was soon after the old barn and windmill had been abandoned…”

”So, Fernstar, what demands do you have this moon?” a relatively ugly looking middle aged cat snickered, he was covered in scars and looking a bit worse for wear in his scraggly grey pelt. The trio of cats stood behind him snickered along with him, though a flicker of fear and uncertainty flashed across their eyes. Fernstar shook her head, a long sigh escaping her mouth as the clan cats behind her stood still as statues in shock. “Lint we’ve been over this time and time again, moon after moon I repeat myself. I do not wish to make any demands of you, I only wish my clan and your colony can live in the same peace they once did for generations before Froststar. I do not want your territory, my side of the river is plenty. I do not want your food or your herbs and your cats are free to join my clan in exchange for you letting my cats to join your colony. I don’t understand why you still show me hostility.” She stood passively, her tail swishing limply in the wind. The colony cats seemed confused, stood on their side of the bridge. They seemed unused to such a diplomatic answer.

On the clan side of the bridge, the cats stood behind Fernstar were silently bickering amongst themselves, tails was flicking in anger and ears twitched in all directions. Words were said where none were spoken and it seemed as though it was brewing into an all out cat fight between two, the blue classic tabby named Stormrunner and the curly haired tom named Timberpaw. The former took a sudden step forward, stretching into the latter’s personal space, he audibly spat at him as he reached out a pale paw and gave Timberpaw a great big slice to the face. The girly yelp of Timberpaw distracted Fernstar from her discussions with the colony cats, while said cats were almost rolling around on the floor they were laughing so hard. She rounded on the misbehaving pair, her eyes almost on fire with the power of her glare. ”Quit it! You two know much better than to behave like kits like this. You may be my little brother, Stormrunner, but you are my deputy. Act like it. And Timberpaw, the best behaved and oldest apprentice, can I not trust you to behave like the age you are?” The two warriors cowered away from her, mumbling quick, disjointed apologies. They knew they messed up, but to have their leader so angry? It was unheard of in their clan. “No matter how sorry you are, you’ve proven I can’t trust you together. Timberpaw, go take a walk. Check the stability of the windmill over there, it hasn’t been checked in moons.” He nodded meekly and padded off to his punishment. “I’ll deal with you later,” she growled at Stormrunner, turning back to the colony cats. “I apologise, if I had known they were going to be such children I wouldn’t have brought them along.” She dipped her head to Lint, motioning for him to get back on track with the meeting.

The flame point warrior trudged towards the windmill, the time it took to cross the rather short distance between growing as he sneakily attempted to stay in hearing distance of the meeting. Unfortunately, he soon passed where he could hear and sped up towards the rickety old windmill, eager to get this check over with. No cat liked visiting the windmill, everyone knew it was unstable and to be avoided and was much closer to the colony cats than anyone ever really liked, but it must be done. Fernstar said so. He reached the location and began gently pushing against the breaking structure, looking for any notable change since the last check. There was none, it was just as wobbly as ever. It was about as wobbly as a healthy cat on catnip. His anger at the situation grew, why was he sent away from the group? Why not her precious little brother? He growled, clawing in annoyance at the windmill in front of him. With his last blow, much harder than any previous, the structure seemed to lose whatever stability it had left. It swayed this way, that way, backwards and forwards. Timberpaw knew he should run before it fell, but fear paralysed him in place. Blades of grass tying his paws to the ground. The tower wobbled away from him, almost falling over, he breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he was safe. He wouldn’t be crushed. But, as if his ancestors had the sudden need to say hello, it swung back and crashed into the ground with force, spraying mud and dust in the air.

There was no sign of Timberpaw once the dust cleared. Both the clan and colony cats from the bridge gathered around the rubble, horror written across their faces. Cries of his name died in their throats, it was pointless. There was no way they could hear him or he could hear them from underneath the monstrous pile. Lint signaled his cats away in silence, the only communication being a brief flick of the tail and a knowing nod. The clan cats stood unaware, eyes fixed on their friend’s grave. Minutes passed, more colony cats arrived in an effort to search for the lost warrior. Hours passed, the other colony cats left. Their search had been in vain, the rubble was too large. Too heavy. Individually, every cat present concluded the warrior must have died in the collapse. Nothing could survive under there, not even a mouse. Evening approached so Fernstar gathered her remaining warriors and bid a sad farewell to Lint, “Thank you for your efforts, I’ll… I’ll see you next moon.” They left, tiny glistening drops remained on the grass below them. A trail of tears left on the ground where they walked.

The full moon rose high into the sky, coating the valley in a ghostly glow. There seemed to be fewer stars in the sky, as if they had hidden away in grief and mourning for a lost friend. The windmill’s rubble stood in defiant silence, clutching to any last secrets it could, hiding them under piles and piles of wood. The night was silent, barely a mouse twitching in its burrow could be heard. Yet, as the moon rose high into the sky, strange scratchings could be heard from underneath the rubble pile. A ghostly looking figure squirmed from beneath the pile, panting and shaking, a trail of red dribbled out beside it. It paused for breath, relaxing on the wood beneath it. A rumble was heard, a low growl from the rubble pile the figure lay in. Then a crash and a rather high pitched scream, the figure jolted out of the pile, a deep wound on his hind leg and fear shaking its already exhausted body.

A young cat, perhaps no more than 7 moons old and definitely up past his bedtime, approached the rubble pile with extreme caution. The tale told of its collapse already terrified him, yet the sounds he heard would send his father running scared. But not him, definitely not him. He was brave, and strong. He could do anything. He strode up to the cause of the rather loud scream he heard, watching his footing in the night’s darkness. He was shivering as he approached the lifeless looking body. He took a step closer, and closer. And closer still until he could see the face. He stared for a second, trying to place where he recognised this figure from. “T-timberpaw!!” He yelled, sprinting away at the speed of light. The tired body of Timberpaw weakly called after him, “W-w-wait..” There was no response, the young cat was gone. Timberpaw lay there, hoping for help but expecting none. The night still had the chill edge of leafbare to it, he shivered as he waited. He couldn’t do anything else.

Despite his expectations, dawn brought help and friends. The young tom who had fled had run to the clan, a rather long journey, especially for one so young. His friends picked him up, wrapped his wounds and basically carried him home, it was nice to be with friends again, even if they were part of the cause of this.

“...And so, that’s the end of the greatest battle I ever fought, and the story of how I got my name!” The elder chuckled, his curly furred tail drifting over the moss. The kits looked confused, one of them spoke up to the volume of a squeak. “But… Timberscream? There was no battle in that story…” Timberscream chuckled and pat the young cat on the head. “That’s where you’re wrong, kiddo, there was a battle. Quite an important one. I fought death. I fought death and I won.”

[Words: 1664/2500]

[Trickz]

Dropping.

[mongrel]

mARK
gonna be going off-thread for this baby