Posts by PerhapsADrea

.:Goldenfable:.

A breeze brings the scents of many cats to her nose, stirring her awake. The clan is often spread out, only gathering for the most important of occasions. Goldenfable struggles to her paws, drowsiness still lingering. With a quick stretch, and an extensive yawn, she is on her way.

She jogs through the center of camp towards the training area, where the noises are coming from. Upon seeing all the training, she sits down near the edge, watching. "Hmm, I wonder what is going on," she says aloud, mostly to herself.

Jackel
This wasn't his first rodeo, not by a long shot. The loner gone rogue has tried to join these kind of things before with little luck. Either he is too soft or too harsh by their standards; many he is simply too ugly for any of them to accept. His lower jaw broke long ago, leaving it permanently crooked. His left ear is practically non-existent. His tail is missing the tip. His calico fur is uneven and rough.
He likes to think that he has a nice personality.

He finds himself near several other cats, whispering "excuse me's" as his large body maneuvers through the small crowd. He nestles himself down next to Fae and Mocha.

Tunnelkit/Windclan/open to steal/no kill
The little girl opened her eyes wide, terrified by the sounds all around her. She was one moon old, give or take several days. Tunnelkit had never seen anything like this. From her favorite spot in the nursery, she could see glimpses of warriors rushing towards each other. It was horrifying and exhilarating at the same time. A queen frantically grabbed at her, trying to keep the kit in her reach.
Tunnelkit swatted at her mother's paw, not wanting to leave her viewing spot.
She liked the thrill.

Breezesong/Windclan/injure-no kill
She once had two kits. But now, only Tunnelkit was left. Breezesongs' desire to keep her kit alive dwindled every day. The older the kit became, the less she wanted it. But, she wasn't a cruel queen. She cared for her daughter and kept her safe, however, if faced with the danger of an angry Scarclan cat, she'd happily give up the kit.
Perhaps this made her a bad mother.
Perhaps Tunnelkit was too intense for her liking.
Perhaps she had had her fill of kits and death.

Jackel
The smaller cat next to him had greeted him more warmly than expected. He smiled slightly, nodding as well, before speaking. "Say, mind me askin' ya' somethin'? I overheard a couple of 'dem talkin' 'bout new names? They rename you?" he asked, slightly concerned as to what his new name would be.

Tariff
A well-groomed tom slinked down from his little cranny, amused by the disgusting display of recklessness in front of him. One ear flicked in interest while looking at the four cats fighting, or was it training, in front of him. He mentally placed bets on who would win. Tariff sniffed around, looking for the cat in charge. Obviously, these idiots weren't. A smirk found itself on the cat's jawline and settled.
Idiots. All of them.

Jackel
He smiled at the two she-cats in turn. Perhaps he would be accepted into this new group. Everyone was much more understanding, at least. And tolerable.
"Well, that's one hell of a relief. Thanks for answering a fool's questions, ha," he smiled, one canine missing thus leaving a gap. "So, I know your name now, what about you, miss?" the "Southern" cat asked the English one.

{{Are Sweden, Finland, or Hungary still available?}}

Jackel
A grumbly chuckle emerged from his throat. "Well, quite the catchphrase you have there, missy. Reckon I should get one of my own, huh?" he smiled. "So, Miss Mocha, how long 'ave you been 'ere?" he asked, his little accent dropping in once and a while.

{{Everyone, can we please get a little list of who's next in line and such? Because I'm rather confused, to be honest. Some cats seem to be just teleporting to the front while others are stuck in the back.}}

Jackel
Large paws shifted uncomfortably under his chest. The sole thing he hated was right in fornt of him; a wait. He looked around, taking note of his position in the line. Two she cats were in front of him, or was it three? Two servals were behind him, making him rather uneasy. A large bird was also behind him. Perhaps more cats were in line, however, there seemed to be members mixed in with recruits.
It was hard to calculate the numbers.
"Miss Mocha, do ya' have any clue how many cats, erm, animals 're in front of us?" he asked to the shecat in front of him.

Tariff
The off-gray eyes looked up towards the railing, where a large tom was.
The cat was familiar.
"Forte, I think. The sadistic asshole... he's got my respect for trying to teach these idiots," he thought internally.
The sharp smell of blood reached him stirring, not alarm but, interest. Walking out from his watching point, he had a good look at the two cats.
One was a victor; one was not.

Jackel
He hummed idly, a sign of thought. He paused, opened his mouth to say something, and shut it once more. More humming followed before he opened his mouth once more, this time saying something. "Huh. I wonder if there's any logic to this madness," he asked, mostly to himself.

Jackel
"So, Miss Mocha, where 're you from? yer accent ain't from these parts... well, mine ain't either, but, I reckon you figured that on yer own," he chuckled.

A small female cat, barely older than a kit, stumbles out of a make-shift den. The cat mewls loudly, disorientated and scared.
Why had her mother taken her out of camp just to leave her?
Her dull eyes blinked slowly; she was thinking.
Maybe it was a test! If she passed, she'd become an apprentice? Who knows.
The cat trotted into the forest, in search of her clan. Fawnkit would never find them.

Fawnkit is the age of an apprentice, just barely six moons old. She was abandoned by her mother,Goldenfable, because the leader of their clan had told Goldenfable that Fawnkit would become an apprentice the following morning.
Fawnkit was the runt.
Goldenfable reasoned in her mind that her daughter would never survive a true battle, so, instead of watching her daughter's mangled body be dragged back to camp later on, she'd let her daughter die without a audience.

{{Are Finland/Sweden/Denmark/Prussia still open?}}

Jackel
"I've heard stranger," he smiled. His mangled tail swished slowly behind him, a tell-tale sign of boredom.
He hated waiting with every fiber of his being.