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.
Gloom thought himself more hydrated than ever in his life. He drank and drank, desperate to fill the emptiness in his stomach. The relief was always temporary, and yet, the tom found little else seemed to help. All that he could do was drink and drink and think and scheme and dream of a world in which prey was beautiful bountiful he was not destined to starve.
Often, he tried to share such things with his conspirators. He wished nothing more than to find comradery within them that threatened the shackles that bound them. There was little that a single cat might do in such times as he found himself in. But as a group?
Often, there were few guards that lingered to watch the prisoners. Gloom saw an opportunity for freedom lingering before their very noses. And yet, for whatever reason, half of his fellows had become docile and dull.
He found his feet, pulling himself from the flooded planes and ascending the stones until he reached the higher ledges where all prisoners and guards alike congregated. The flood had reduced their living quarters to half of what it might've been several sunrises before. Their rations seemed equally diminished.
"Evening," He nodded to Maple and then to Hemlock, finding himself planted where the pair often spent their days wallowing. They were kin, after all, so it did not perturb Gloom too much that they frequently seemed to share each other's company. If Butterfly were here... He did miss at least one of his sons. "I think that, with the flood reducing our territory, it valuable to have a candid conversation about our plans." The tom meowed, glancing over his shoulder to observe the guards. Burrow sat with his tail curled around his paws, conversing idly with Cloud. Two pushovers.
He then found Icicle with his sharp gaze and gestured for the pale-coated tabby to join their congregation. "It is time that we leave this island. If we do not execute a plan soon, we will surely be left to starve and die." He spoke curtly, his expression dour and serious. "I offer a solution - we fight our way out. If we work together, the guards cannot stop us. Of course, I assume that, as preyhunters, you both are not keen on battle - but I see no other alternative."
What day was it? Wearily Hemlock canted his nose to the sky, as if the sinking sun could answer his question. It only glistened, a fat hovering orange disk, inches from descending into the lake and disappearing forever. He sighed and glanced back down at his paws. The days were all blending together. It felt like a whole season had passed since his imprisonment. Only Maple brought him any solace.
But she couldn't mend his weary heart.
Nobody could.
A soft, unassuming voice garnered his attention. Hemlock glanced up, slightly surprised to find Gloom standing above them. Though it barely registered upon his face. It was hard to summon any emotion these days, other than apathy. Hemlock only nodded, expecting the guard to move on and spend his evening conversing quietly with Icicle, but he remained. They stared at one another before he shifted his attention to Maple and began speaking.
"Plans?" Hemlock echoed as Gloom gestured for Icicle to join them. Plans for what? He didn't have any plans. Hemlock was simply going to waste away until he was allowed to leave. When that was? Probably never. He was going to die here. It was a fact he long accepted after Laurel pushed him into the earth and dug a claw into the gentle folds of his neck.
Icicle moved to join them, and Gloom continued. It was a plan of escape — of fighting and stupidity. At the mere mention, Hemlock reared slightly to check on the guards. Could they hear them? Cloud and Burrow were chatting together, heads nearly pressed together, and completely unaware of their little group. They looked to be fond of one another, a feeling he once recognized as love. Though it hardly brought him any joy. now A deep frown pressed against his maws as he turned back to Gloom.
"No," he muttered sternly after a long pause. "Count me out of it." Hemlock pushed himself to his paws. "Actually," he growled, threatening to leave. "Count me out of everything, including whatever this is too," he meowed. "This scheming." He glanced between his gathered tribe-mates. "I don't know what Sumac did to you, or why you're here, but he killed my mate," Hemlock growled. "And if he catches wind of any of this, and that I'm involved?" He gestures sharply to the mainland. "He'll kill my kits too." Hemlock fixed them a burning stare before turning to leave. "Come on, Maple."
Maple had lost count of the days she had been imprisoned on this island. Most of them had, she was sure. Though she was mournful to have him here, she hated to think of the loneliness she might be suffering if she hadn’t had Hemlock to focus her attention on. Idly now, she dragged her tongue along his forehead in long, soothing strokes. Approaching steps drew her attention away from her grooming and she looked up to see Gloom. With a murmur, she echoed his greeting and curiously waited for him to explain why he had come.
Plans? Hemlock seemed just as baffled by the question. What kind of plans did any of them have? Wait until Sumac either released them or somebody died. That was all there was to do. Gloom hardly hesitated though and carried on to propose that they fight their way out. With a gasp, Maple glanced towards the guards to make sure they hadn’t overheard, but no cat moved. “Gloom have you lost your mind?” she hissed. “Even if we were in any condition to fight, how can you propose attacking your brothers and sisters?”
The tortoiseshell shook her head and frowned. “Sumac has wronged all of us, but the cats he sends to guard us have not.” Hemlock mentioned his kits and Maple found herself similarly drawn to protect the little ones she had yet to even meet. “This is a bad and dangerous idea, Gloom. Surely you must know that.” She turned at her son’s summons, but paused to look back over her shoulder. “We won’t help you with this. Please reconsider.”
Icicle felt like he was going to go insane. He had known hunger before, yes, but this hunger was… different. Sure, he found himself physically hungry. Wishing that he could sink his jaws into a juicy rabbit or even a hawk, stars what he’d do for a hawk right now. But… beneath that was something else.
Beneath that, was a fury that simmered in his veins. How dare Sumac throw him away like trash. How. Dare. He. He had given moons upon moons of his life to the tribe. He had risked his life to fight off coyotes and hawks. And Sumac just threw him away.
Stars… what he wouldn’t do to sink his teeth into Sumac’s scruff and drag him to the the Stone that Never Ends. Even if the Tribe of the Endless Hunt had approved of him then, he seriously doubted they approved of what he was doing now. Replacing the head stone-guard with a prey-hunter? There was no way they could want that. They created the two different roles for a reason!
Ears pinned as he dug his claws into the soft sand. He hated this. He hated this so much.
"Evening. I think that, with the flood reducing our territory, it valuable to have a candid conversation about our plans."
Icicle’s ears perked as Gloom spoke. His gaze lifted as the older tom spoke. He had somehow been even more angry than Icicle at being banished. He couldn’t blame the older tom of course. For all the seasons he had given to the tribe, Gloom had been serving as a stone-guard for almost twice the amount of time.
“Plans?” The spotted silver lilac tom muttered, as he pushed himself to his paws before padding over towards Gloom, Maple, and Hemlock.
"It is time that we leave this island. If we do not execute a plan soon, we will surely be left to starve and die. I offer a solution - we fight our way out. If we work together, the guards cannot stop us. Of course, I assume that, as preyhunters, you both are not keen on battle - but I see no other alternative."
“You want us to fight our way out?” he asked incredulously. He turned his gaze towards the guards. He didn’t really know Burrow or Cloud, but as he looked them up and down, he realized that they probably could take them. But did he really want to fight them?
"No. Count me out of it. Actually, count me out of everything, including whatever this is too. This scheming. I don't know what Sumac did to you, or why you're here, but he killed my mate. And if he catches wind of any of this, and that I'm involved? He’ll kill my kits too. Come on, Maple."
“Gloom have you lost your mind? Even if we were in any condition to fight, how can you propose attacking your brothers and sisters? Sumac has wronged all of us, but the cats he sends to guard us have not. This is a bad and dangerous idea, Gloom. Surely you must know that. We won’t help you with this. Please reconsider.”
“Gloom, I respect you. I respect you a lot,” Icicle started, glancing at the other two as they left. “But Maple is right. They haven’t done anything to us,” he said.
“On the other paw… you have a point. A very good point,” he admitted. His shoulders slumped as he dug his claws into the ground. “I don’t want to fight innocent cats. But… we can’t stay here.” Looking the tom up and down, he stepped back.
“I propose we do something else. We are stronger than them. We don’t have to hurt them. Why don’t we attempt to convince them?” He asked, flicking his tail. “Wouldn’t it be far more impactful to convince them to help us? Two cats going after Sumac are murderers. A group?” A grin spread across Icicle’s maw as he remembered how Sumac had swayed the clan against Fog.
Gloom's nose wrinkled. "You fool, do you not want to see your children ever again? We will not save them by sitting here idly." He shifted his glowering stare to Maple as she spoke too, his brow deeply furrowed. "No brother of mine would leave us here to die. If they know our intentions and still stop us, then they are just as guilty." He stamped a paw into the ground like crushing a bug beneath it. "Dangerous or not, it's our only option."
He looked to Icicle then, frown intensifying. These lot of cowards... He had never anticipated those who opposed Sumac and his evils to be such pushovers. He snorted a breath through his nose, tossing his head to stare at Burrow and Cloud. They are just as weak. He had torn coyotes' lives from their throats - his presence should be enough to threaten Burrow and Cloud before he even lay a claw upon them.
He sighed. "Fine," He grunted. "We convince them. You." He pointed an unsheathed claw at Maple. "You do it. They'll listen to you - they're your comrades." He glanced back over his shoulder. And if they don't listen... He could not let his fellow prisoners sulk in their misery when there was something actionable and real they could do to prevent their own demises.
The tom shook out his fur and stalked in a circle, tail swaying, moving to cut off Hemlock before he could escape. "Are you really enough of a fool to think Sumac would kill kits? No, I'm sure he's raising them to be perfect little miniatures of himself. He's got the ego for it, and not even he would waste life that could not serve him in other ways." He lowered his head, looking upwards at Hemlock through harsh yellow eyes. They were the eyes of a predator - one who yearned to be chasing and not the chased.
"If we do not do something, we will be left here to rot forever. Your kits will know you as not only a betrayer but a coward who refused to stand up for himself. Is that what you want?”
He glanced at the guards, nape bristling. At any moment, they could catch wind of their conversation and report them directly to Sumac. At any moment—Gloom's snarl clashed against his ears, drawing a growl of his own. Orange eyes turned upon the guard. "And I will never see them again if they're dead." They flickered like two smoldering flames. "Sumac made his intentions very clear."
Hemlock dug his claws into the earth—a warning—but Maple stepped forward, her body acting as a blockade. Hissing softly, she disregarded his plan and tried to reason with him before renouncing their assistance altogether. Hemlock nodded, relieved by his mother's answer. At least, he didn't have to worry about her getting entangled in—whatever this was.
Gloom only fought back. He declared that their tribe-mates were just as guilty for following Sumac's rule. Hemlock grew frustrated, tail lashing over the ground as a growl writhed in his throat. But before he could say anything, Icicle cut in, trying to find a middle ground.
As soon as the spotted tom was finished, Hemlock leapt in, crown shaking in disagreement. "No," he said firmly, glancing at Maple before continuing. "Talking, fighting—we're not getting involved."A rebellion? Was Icicle nuts? At the first sniff of treason, Sumac was sentencing them to death—and that was only if they were lucky. His kits would go first. "We're leaving—"
Gloom's grunt stopped him in his tracks. You. Hemlock's pelt leapt into a bristle at the command. He whipped around to face the older guard. Was he serious?"She's not your subordinate to boss around." He glanced at his mother and snorted. "Do your own dirty work." Yet his growl did nothing to stop him. Shaking out his pelt, Gloom stalked toward him, paws side-stepping into a circle, until he was before him.
Hemlock raised a lip. "I don't know what to think anymore," he growled. "I was foolish enough to think he'd try and save my mate." Pain flashed briefly through his eyes. "As our teller, I trusted him to perform his duties as a healer. I trusted him to not to let her die." A loud scoff left his nose. "So excuse me, if I don't want to risk my kits' lives." Yellow eyes glowered at him, another accusing snarl on the guard's lips. Hemlock stood his ground. "Then let's rot."
He pushed away from the tom, signaling for his mother to follow. "I've accepted it, Gloom." His eyes cast toward Burrow, a shadow lingering over his face. Then back at the older guard. "And as a father—" He spat into the moorland. "I was at least hoping for a shred of sympathy, but I can see you only care about saving your own pelt."
