The Neutral Zone/Roleplay/Archive 01

Archive Info
Archived 24/02/19
Contains roleplay from late January 2019 to late February 2019
Archive Contents
Otterthorn barely flinched as she crossed the scent markers into the neutral land at the heart of the territories, pawsteps crunching in the thin layer of ice crystals that refused to withdraw in the winter chill. Ears pricked and dusty reddish coat fluffed up against the wind, the she-cat settled beneath a stunted tree and studied the area, seeking an easy catch. The SplashClan deputy was a capable warrior, but her old injuries stiffened in the cold and made hunting difficult. Her pride refused any possibility of taking on less work in the cold weather, and so she powered on.The deputy's ears pricked as frost-burnt dry grass crunched nearby, and slowly she turned her head to locate the source. Her nose told her there was no danger, and she soon confirmed that as the tufted tail and freckled plumage of a small grouse revealed themselves to her.Moving cautiously so as to not startle the sensitive bird, Otterthorn rose into a stalking crouch and slunk forward, placing each damaged paw with care and closing the distance between herself and her prey. When she was close enough, the rust-coloured warrior launched herself forward, landing squarely atop the bird and killing it quickly. She shivered and stood, dragging it back to the shelter of a scrubby bush as she realised how much that natural action had drained her. Weakness never failed to irritate the deputy, especially her own. One riot,one ranger! 20:39, January 22, 2019 (UTC)
Wolfleap lead the two cats along the edge of the SpringClan border. His long thick fur glossy with heath. Behind him Sharpeagle's muscular form glided along. And a few steps behind the two tom cats a small smokey form padded anxiously along, jumping at the slightest sounds. Sharpeagle flicked an ear back at the smaller cat, "You know, it would help if you were quiet..." he hissed under his breath at the obviously nervous cat. Shadefern shrunk back from the tawny tom's barbed words. "S-sorry Sharpeagle..." she stammered. Rolling his eyes he halted and looked directly at her. "If you're going to be as jumpy as a mouse go back to camp!" he spat. Wolfleap turned and walked back to Sharpeagle and Shadefern. "That was uncalled for Sharpeagle" the deputy's firm tone rebuked the sharp tongued warrior, his gaze then drifted to the crouched warrior, "Shadefern, perhaps Sharpeagle is right, maybe you should head to camp and help out Fawnspots?" he mewed in a kind tone that seemed to wash other the she-cat and calmed her nerves a bit. Nodding, she turned around and disappeared from view. The two toms turned to continue their patrol. But Shadefern didn't wish to return to camp. Instead she stepped up to the border, her tail bushed in fear before leaping over it and into the unclaimed territory. Smoothing her pelt by force of will, she stalked deeper into the untouched land, letting her senses roam around. Eager to see if there was something, anything at all, interesting in the area she almost never went into. 
Otterthorn looked up from her grouse as a semi-familiar scent registered with her. Clan cat for sure, they'd probably met at a Gathering or some such. "Who's there?" she asked of the unseen figure, hoping that if they were hostile she would at least have some pre-warning before they attacked. With a shrug, the cinnamon deputy set about methodically stripping the grouse of it's feathers, she disliked getting them caught in her teeth and it wasn't as if running away now would do her much good. Besides, she was vaguely curious about who else might venture into the neutral lands at the heart of the territories, it was almost an unspoken law that they were left alone except for at gatherings. One riot,one ranger! 20:39, January 22, 2019 (UTC)
Her head snapped to the sound of a voice coming from just to her right. Fear gripped the young she-cat as she froze, parting her jaw she breathed in, taking in the scent of water, salt, ocean spray, and cat. The cat was from a clan, otherwise how would they have gotten into the neutral area that was surrounded by the clans, and smell like the water to the south of her clan. "Sh-shadefern" she called uncertainly. stepping toward the SplashClan scent. Though she could smell her own fearscent she still made her way toward the voice, only to see Otterthorn, the SplashClan deputy plucking her grouse. Shadefern tilted her head, reminding herself to keep her fur flat despite everything else. She hoped the deputy wouldn't smell her fear. Though she knew it was a longshot. 
Immediately Otterthorn relaxed, the other cat's tremulous tone soothed her own anxiety. Shadefern, that sounded familiar. A GladeClan cat she thought, though it was hard to tell by scent under the reek of fear. "You can relax, you know. I eat birds, not other cats." she called out briskly, though her tone was anything but calming. The cinnamon deputy wasn't exactly known for her bedside manner, though something about the quivering charcoal tabby piqued her more curious nature. She stretched out her front paws, wincing as something in her shoulders clicked unpleasantly, and gestured with her tail to the clear space beside her. "I can't tell if you're shivering with terror or cold but you're welcome to share my shelter either way." One riot,one ranger! 23:20, February 10, 2019 (UTC)
Shuddering under the Splashclan deputy's voice, Shadefern blinked. "S-sorry... I'm sure you don't, I've always been j-jumpy though..." she stammered softly as she took one more step closer to the other she-cat. Uncertainty glittered in the depths of her stormy grey eyes at Otterthorns offer. An awkward expression crossed the young warrior's smokey features, it wasn't so much terror as it was anxiety. Sometimes it caused her to shake or tremble, sometimes she looked perfectly fine. It all depended on so much. Still, if she never pushed herself, she would never get anywhere, and slowly moved to the space indicated by the sleek cinnamon pelted she-cat. "Thanks..." she meowed softly, curling her paws under her chest and wrapping her tail around her side. "C-can I ask... Why you're here?" 
Otterthorn's walls went right back up. "It's neutral territory. Just because nobody goes here, doesn't mean it's against the Code." she retorted, then felt immediately guilty. Still, how to back out of this? "I... I didn't mean it like that." she mumbled, glancing uncertainly at the other she-cat. The GladeClanner's frost-grey eyes were striking in her rounded charcoal face, and something about her slight and angular frame was attractive to the deputy. Suddenly, she shook her head - this was neutral ground but that didn't change the rules about relationships across faction borders. Still, she imagined Divestar's voice in her head. Her mentor would tell her, she'd offered this one shelter - she couldn't just kick her out in the cold now. Might as well make the best of it until the wind died down.
Taking a deep breath, the solid cinnamon warrior blinked slowly, considering how much honesty she could afford. Her injury was common knowledge. If anyone tried to attack SplashClan thinking she was weak they would be made aware quickly of their mistake. "Honestly, I was out here hunting where nobody could see me do such a poor job of it." she admitted ruefully, gesturing to the bird at her paws. One riot,one ranger! 03:48, February 11, 2019 (UTC)
The she-cat flinched at the deputy's tone, shifting slightly away from her un uncertainty. Maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut, perhaps Otterthorn wanted her to leave now, surely she wouldn't turn on a fellow warrior? The thoughts fired quickly, before she flicked her ears and listened to the sleek yet well built warrior. Her own pretty storm grey locked onto Otterthorn's momentarily, though to Shadefern, it felt like a lifetime. As if time had slowed down and was barely passing. Tearing her gaze away she took a deep shuddering breath, drawing deep into her lungs, Otterthorn's scent bathing her tongue as she drew in. The young cat felt confused by the fact that for a moment, she had forgotten everything else in her life while her eyes were locked onto the SplashClan deputy's. She glanced at the grouse, "It-it's only for the cold season that your hunting ability is affected yeah?" Shadefern tilted her head, perhaps there was a way that Otterthorn could hunt that would prove more effective when her old injury was playing up.
Fawnspots had managed to slip from the camp after a few words with Rosestar. Letting her know that she needed to talk to StarClan. Though her mother protested and told her that the halfmoon gathering was tomorrow. But Fawnspots' paws had been itching to go and talk with her ancestors, to speak to the warriors that had starved in the hardest leafbare that GladeClan had seen in so many seasons. The young medicine cat followed her path through the neutral territory, passing the scent marker a little bit ago. She made her way toward the cave, unaware that she would soon have company.
Dragging his paws, the soft-furred tortoiseshell medicine cat plodded along the worn path through the low foothills and into the Moon Cave, laying his head down on white-tipped paws as he stared blankly into space to where the moon's light would normally fall on a meeting night. At the soft scrape of paws on stone he stiffened and raised his head, tension increasing as Fawnspots padded cautiously into the cave. "Morning, Fawnspots." he murmured, though his voice sounded weak and dull in the echoing half-light.
Otterthorn's expression turned brooding, ears flat with distaste. "Not just hunting. Anything requiring movement." she grumbled, flicking her white-tipped tail irritably. With a sigh, she turned her verdant gaze on the smaller she-cat, stiffening as she fought to keep concentration on the topic at hand. "But yes. Only when it's cold. The rest of the time I'm as good as anyone else and better than some." she added, a little defensive now as for some reason her brain insisted she had to be good enough for this one, to impress her, win her attention. Hey no, brain. She's from a different Clan, not helping. The cinnamon warrior chided herself irritably. It was often this way, her rationing core short-circuited around a pretty she-cat. One riot,one ranger! 00:59, February 13, 2019 (UTC)
Fawnspots jumped slightly at the voice that sounded from inside the cavern where the medicine cats spoke with StarClan. Parting her jaws she drank in the sea scent of her fellow medicine cat, "Shellskip? What brings you here before halfmoon?" she asked softly. She had never known him to come here besides at halfmoon. She let her eyes adjust as she slipped through the darkness over to the tortoiseshell tom, "You don't... look well" she mewed softly. She ran her eyes over him again. Narrowed with suspicion only a seasoned medicine cat would understand. If she were correct, then she would understand why the delicate tom was feeling listless and disheartened.
Tilting her head, eyes wide, her ears twitching almost in an unintentional allure, the smaller warrior listened to the deputy. The shadow striped she-cat's tail flicked to lightly brush Otterthorn's side, "Suffering from an old injury isn't a weakness. Think of it as time to rest so you can be even better in the warmer seasons." she suggested timidly, hoping that she wouldn't be offended by the suggestion to take the time to rest when needed. She pinned her ears to her skull and looked away, waiting for a scathing remark about not understanding. And it was true, she didn't understand what Otterthorn was going through. Still it was never the best feeling to be scolded. Sharpeagle did it all the time. Even the thought of the sharp-tongued warrior made her flinch as if he had raked his claws over her muzzle. And least of all, she didn't want this beautiful she-cat to think she was a stuck up mouse-brain. 
Raising his head, Shellskip touched noses briefly with Fawnspots before dropping it back to the ground, his jaw striking stone with an audible thud. "Pretty sure I'm not well," he murmured, his eyes dull with misery. The GladeClan medicine cat wasn't stupid, and she'd been doing this a lot longer than he. There was no point in hiding this from her, it was an insult to her intelligence. "It was a rogue, a big blue tabby-and-white tom with yellow eyes. He... he chased me, he hurt me. The one time I leave camp in months and that happens. And now, this. It's like I'm StarClan's favourite joke right now." the tortoiseshell rasped, his usually sweet voice husky with disuse and grief.
Standing, the lilac-and-cream tom shook out his thick fur, feeling a twist of revulsion as something in his belly shifted. He didn't want this, he'd never once asked for anything close. If he was stronger, if he hadn't denied it so long, he could have used herbs to cast them from his body. He knew which ones, Huntermoon had taught him. But something stopped him every time, and now it was too late for him to feel right doing that either. Whichever way one looked at this scenario, the fluffy tortoiseshell with the soft blue eyes was going to wind up hurting. And he knew that. Sniffling like a sick kit, he wormed his way in under Fawnspots' chin, pressing himself against her - he needed physical contact right now and, motherless, she was the next best thing.
Unaware of her half-brother's consternation, Otterthorn blinked at Shadefern in surprise. Damnit, for a moment there the smoke tabby sounded almost like Divestar. "Why do you have to be right?" she griped quietly, unable or unwilling to shoot the gentle tabby's sentiment down in flames just to soothe her own pride. A wry smirk touched her white-splashed muzzle. "You don't have to look like you're expecting a cuff over the ear, you know. I try not to hit friendly cats." She teased, whiskers twitching. The nagging of her conscience was easy to ignore now, along with her reasoning it seemed the beautiful warrior's presence silenced it almost entirely and she was more comfortable with her now than with most of her Clanmates. One riot,one ranger! 01:31, February 20, 2019 (UTC)
Letting his nose touch hers lightly, Fawnspots sat down, her eyes narrowed as she listened to the anguish in his voice, how could anyone hurt this sweet and gentle tom. Her claws slid out in anger, if she ever met this cat, she would flay his skin from the tribe to the twolegplace. Disgust coiled in the gut, an act like that is unforgivable. As he stood and pressed against her chest, his pelt brushing into hers, their fur mingling. Her dormant mothering instinct surfacing and her tongue swept over his pelt soothingly, washing his face in a motherly manner. "It's going to be hard, but you can do this, and I can be there every step of the way. You don't have to go through it alone, is there anyone in your clan who can be there with you while I'm still in GladeClan?" Her voice soft and soothing, something she seemed to harness well, letting the words flow calmly and easily.
Shadefern's ears twitched as she let them flick back up, "s-sorry... Sharpeagle is always telling me t-to mind my own business" she stammered, letting her gaze lift to the other she-cat, Shadefern let her eyes focus on Otterthorn's, letting herself get drawn into them, her muzzle opened as if to speak, but she said nothing before closing it and turning her gaze away in embarrassment. How could this cat, the deputy of another clan nonetheless, manage to distract her in a way no one else had before. Unconsciously, Shadefern shifted closer to Otterthorn's side, her heart hammering away in her chest, body trembling ever so slightly with nerves. 
Shellskip began to shake his head no, trembling under Fawnspots' comforting touch as he was able to fall apart for the first time in just over a moon. Then he recalled the kind-eyed blue-and-white queen whose kits he had helped bring into the world a few sunrises ago. "Skyflower might be able to help but... the nursery is sort of Sealblaze's space. I don't think I'm welcome there. You know the rules about medicine cats and kits... what if they exile me?" he blurted out, the words spilling forth in an anxious torrent. It was times like this that an onlooker could be reminded this satin-furred healer hadn't reached even his second year yet.
"Sharpeagle is an arrogant frog-brain who needs to learn how to shut his mouth." Otterthorn drawled, recalling the dark tabby tom from Gatherings. She didn't like his disparaging attitude or the way he treated those around him, particular his apprentice and the junior warriors. As Shadefern pressed against her, charcoal pelt mingling with sleek cinnamon, the muscular deputy stiffened. This isn't right. I'm letting Divestar down. She whispered internally. Standing, the reddish warrior shook out her thick pelt and flattened down the tufts along her spine. "I... I'll be going now. Maybe we'll meet at the next gathering." she blurted, snatching her grouse and fleeing, disappearing into the thick mist and scrub as she headed back to camp. One riot,one ranger! 02:11, February 22, 2019 (UTC)
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