Google dot com says the traditional gift for a four year anniversary is fruit & flowers?? How festive! In honor of our fourth year on the world wide web, we are requesting bouquets and fruit baskets or cash donations to the whip-a-rain-fund 😌 Oooooorrr we guess...alternatively...we can put on a big, month-long celebration featuring a warm-and-fuzzy event, scavenger hunt, a raffle drawing, and a freakin' prize wheel??! See the September Announcements for more information, and don't forget to check out the September Patrols too!
The Apostles is a warrior cats roleplay based in northern Wisconsin. On Lake Superior, the wild cats have made the Apostle Islands their home. It is on these islands - Rocky Island and South Twin Island - that the clan and tribe cats have lived in a peace and harmony that ebbs and flows with the tide.
But as the tides turn, so does the truce that binds them to one another; and as the water raises, a darkness follows, an evil that will end in bloodshed and violence.
[attr="class","sbox"]Monarchmask followed alongside Falconfire faithfully. Every few minutes he glanced at the grizzled blue-gray tom in partial wonder and partial disenchantment. The other had a reputation, was a former loyalist. Monarchmask had been hoping he’d offer some wise words or tips, but it seemed the only thing he could offer was old proverbs the younger warrior had never heard before and say how his still-’kit children were going to be the finest warriors ever raised in LichenClan. Talk of any of it made him want to roll his eyes. If this is what fatherhood is like, then I am looking forward to it even less.
The tortoiseshell tom felt somewhat let down by it, but he preferred to pad at senior warrior’s side even if he was not the rugged and fierce diplomat-fighter that the rumors had spoken of him as. For, his only other choice of company, was the other tom who tagged along behind them and whom Monarchmask had not so much as looked at, let alone uttered a good morning to.
I’ll have to tell Falconfire later that Juncoshadow is not of the same ilk as us.
The early morning sun had hit their pelts as soon as they had emerged from the tunnels and it was steadily growing as they had padded along towards the border Falconfire deemed most crucial to check. RedwoodClan’s, of course. Monarchmask fought the urge to turn and ask Juncoshadow if he’d ever fought one of those heathens, if he’d known what it was like to purge one from the island. I doubt it. He looks like he would never have the guts for it. He cast a snarky smile over his shoulder to the other. Can’t relate~
“So, Falconfire…” Monarchmask began, eyeing the other keenly. “Remind me again what you’re hoping to find at the border ?”
Both Holykit and Sacredkit were growing like undergrowth, their awkward forms unfit for the nursery. Falconfire had long since drowned out his surroundings, ambling through the snow as they aimlessly marched towards the RedwoodClan border. With Yarrowstar as LichenClan’s leader, these patrols were completely useless. There was no point in marking the land even when the bitter senior warrior knew the cowardly traitor would rather suck up to Finchstar than fight. Thinking about his sin infested clan made the tabbies blood boil, it infuriated him, and with no outlet to unleash his fury on, the warrior had grown tired of the constant frustration. No, he’d rather think about his little prodigies. Already, Holykit had her mother’s long legs, too great for her small form. And what his son lacked in stature, Sacredkit made up for in heart.
”I only hope their mentors aren’t too abhorrent,” concluded the tabby eventually, watching Monarchmask through his peripherals. Falconfire couldn’t help but wonder what the tom who looked so much like his son thought of mentorship. He knew the tortoiseshell for his prowess and not much else, but the father knew he needed as many positive influences for his children as he could find. So when the tortie spoke up finally, Falconfire met his meow with interest, despite it having little to do with his topic of choice.
He wouldn't get the peace of mind he desperately craved, thoughts shifting as they neared the border. Falconfire contained his frustration with a singular lash of his tail. ”Hhhss! Nothing,” he hissed. Sending an arched set of claws through the snow, white flying in the air, the senior warrior watched the heathen redwood trees with hate. ”Only StarClan knows why Quickstrike insists on even making patrols. They don’t care about protecting LichenClan. But I do.”
Rigidly, Falconfire stood unmoving on the border, praying that StarClan would bless him with another opportunity to send another demon to The Dark Forest. Of course there was an issue, and the warrior found his sideward gaze on the lynx point weakling he had been ignoring until that point.
Juncoshadow was not quite sure how he ended up on a patrol with Falconfire and Monarchmask. He wasn’t even usually assigned to that many patrols. He knew of Monarchmask, but less so of Falconfire. But, by the way Monarchmask was walking so close to the blue tabby tom, Juncoshadow came to the conclusion that they must at least be somewhat friendly with each other.
He lagged behind as the trio headed toward RedwoodClan’s border. No one had explicitly said it to him, but he was getting the notion that his presence was not welcome. He sighed quietly to himself, looking off at some snow patches that had yet to melt. Nothing new, I suppose.
Juncoshadow looked up just as Monarchmask looked back at him, smiling in an unfriendly way. He swiveled an ear and his mouth curved into an S shape, a strange feeling running down his pelt. He noticed his stomach was beginning to turn.
Finally they neared the border. The musty smell of the forest, damp soil, and leaf rot reached his nose, and it was comforting in a way.
The lynx point was struck back to his reality when Falconfire hissed ferociously. Juncoshadow’s hackles rose, but he didn’t speak up. The older tom’s words gave him a clue as to his character. Juncoshadow figured he must have been one of Minnowstar’s supporters. Not good.
He felt uneasy again as Falconfire stared into the forest. Suddenly, his amber eyes were staring at him. He felt that strange feeling rumble through his body again, and his stomach churned in his belly. His brows connected in worry, and he still did not speak, unsure of whether to hold Falconfire’s gaze or not. He ended up looking in his direction, but not in his eyes, and did look away a few times. Juncoshadow felt immensely weak and overpowered next to the tabby and tortoiseshell’s attitudes. He had no one to support him here.
Then, a scent hit his nose. It nearly caused him to cringe, just from how strong and how suddenly it had hit him, but he stopped himself. Looking across the border, he saw several pelts approaching them through the trees. One was starkly black and white, and the other two were tabbies that blended in more smoothly with the shadows.
The atmosphere changed. He started to panic– no way Falconfire and Monarchmask were going to just walk away. “Hey–” he spoke up finally, “let’s go back before we get into trouble.” Juncoshadow made an effort to steady his voice as he spoke to the other two toms. He felt intimidated, and despite his efforts his voice was still slightly shaky.
[attr="class","sbox"]Monarchmask’s eyes turned keen and sharp as Falconfire hissed, bristling and Juncoshadow signaled suddenly that there was something amiss. There, just in the treeline beyond the border lay the silhouettes of slinking figures and his gaze darkened at the shapes. As they approached the light dappling down from the treetop canopy revealed their pelts to be that of two tabbies and one muddled with white and black. And when they came ever closer, their faces took shape in that flickering light and Monarchmask squinted. He did not know these cats, but that had never mattered to him. He would not turn down a chance to impress Falconfire and more importantly, he wouldn’t turn down the chance to release some tension in the form of claw meeting enemy flesh.
Scarcely he heard Juncoshadow’s shaky plea but it went unaddressed. The tortoiseshell looked to the blue tabby for direction. Would Falconfire leave this fight ? Was he afraid of Yarrowstar’s punishment ? Monarchmask surely hoped not. If he did that, then there really was no hope for any of them anymore. He studied Falconfire, eyes lit up at the excitement of it all. “What’s the plan ?” He muttered lowly, gaze moving to sweep over the RedwoodClan patrol. They did not seem aggressive- yet, at least. There was time for that, he supposed.
