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Post by fierceclaw on Sept 20, 2007 18:53:00 GMT -5
Thunder rolled steadily over the thick forest canopy, though no rain fell in this gray sky morning. Clouds stretched as far as the eye could see--er, if you could see through the dense canopy that is--like a never-ending fluffy blanket that was never broken by a patch of evaporation.
In the forest below, crickets and tree frogs chirped, continuing their parts in the orchestra of the night even though the moon had almost set behind the clouds. It would be easy for them to be a bit confused though, between the thick canopy and the clouds above the sun's early rays rarely made it to the forest floor. But where it did, there were well defined beams of sunlight that speckled the ground. Cool air blending with hatred in the dew.
Two blue orbs pierced the darkness under a thorn bush like a the glow bracelets you got at fairs. Tropical blue hues only broken by a patch of green in the left eye. A distinguishing characteristic associated with the royal bloodline of the distant...very distant Peakclan. Which was more of a kingdom rather than a clan, many cats didn't even know each other.
And from that royal bloodline did this cat come. Abyssal black fur blending gleamlessly in the shadows. It was thick rather than sleek, soft rather than coarse. To a cat who could tell the difference, and was attentive enough, it would be clear that this young tom was from the north, the cold regions.
The size of this cat would make one think "apprentice" at first glance, even though he was deep into his 14th moon of life. Still young, though upon closer observation, seeing powerful muscles rippling smoothly under his ebony pelt, one could tell that this cat had been through much, and/or traveled far. Two factors, that were highly unexageratingly true. Hatred blazed in those two blue eyes, ears in constant motion though he didn't seem to be wearily or scared.
This was where life had brought him. How cruel fate could be. He had had it all, his name had been feared, hated, unspoken. He'd been called "Prince of Peakclan". The prince of a clan who was the center of folk-loor and elders stories miles beyond their boundaries. Used to strike fear into kits to make them act right. There was much more to the story than that, much more fo this cat's story. The pain and the torment that had come with the title that he hailed. The ambition and lust for revenge that kept him alive. He tried so hard. . .
The young tom lowered his head, scenting a blood spot on the forest floor. The scent of a vole and a cat he didn't regonize. Duh. A hunt had taken place here.
He lowered his shoulders, streching his front legs and flexing his gray claws while drinking in the scents of the forest. The same cat was still nearby. Oh goodie...
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Post by ~*Speckles*~ on Sept 20, 2007 19:05:55 GMT -5
A slim light tan she-cat whose pelt bore pure white stripes slipped silently through the bushes as she searched for a good place to bury the vole she had just caught. She scratched at the ground with one of her white paws and was relieved to find the soil and leaves give way easily. She dug a small hole and then placed her catch in it. Her nose twitched and she raised her head as she finished covering the vole. What was that smell? Another cat, definatly not from ShadowClan. Her ears went back for a moment as a faint growl escaped her mouth. She quickly put her ears up and swivled them, trying to locate the strange cat. Relying on her nose and ears she headed towards Fierceclaw, crouching low as she neared him. Her eyes worked hard, and then finally caught the form of the intruder. Her ears went back as she crouched lower to the ground, preparing to pounce at this bold tom. The white-tipped end of her tail twitched low over the ground as she shifted from paw to paw, trying to time her pounce carefully. With a nod she pushed herself off of the ground and let out an angry yowl as she leaped towards Fierceclaw with her ears pinned flat back on her skull and her paws outstretched, claws unsheathed and slashing furoiusly at the tom.
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Post by fierceclaw on Sept 20, 2007 19:19:25 GMT -5
Fierceclaw's ear shifted backward towards her a split moment before she pounced. That split moment was all he needed. . .
However since he was streching, his reaction wouldn't be able to be all that great, despite how fast he was. And inwardly, he cursed himself sevierly for not seeing the attack coming, for not being more awair of his surroundings. He had KNOWN there was another cat nearby...CLOSELY nearby! But he hadn't thought that that cat would simply attack without some sort of a frontoff. Whoever this was, she ment business. . .
He rolled onto his back just as she was coming down, bringing up his front and hind claws so instead of hitting his torso, she'd jump right into a flurry of claws.
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Post by ~*Speckles*~ on Sept 20, 2007 19:30:04 GMT -5
Cloudstripe saw the cat flip onto his back. Oh great, this is going to feel great. She extended her legs as far under her as possible and arched her back to help protect her stomach. She wasn't about to back off just because the cat was clearly a well trained fighter. She let out a hiss as she came down on his claws. She twisted to the side to lessen the attack on her belly and reached out with a paw to try and get a swipe at him. 'What do you think you're doing on ShadowClan territory?' she yowled furiously at the tom. Her golden eyes were blazing with the anger that she felt on the inside at the intruding cat. Her short fur was standing on end as she glared at the tom with her mouth partly opened and her white teeth bared.
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Post by fierceclaw on Sept 20, 2007 19:51:42 GMT -5
The force behind the she-cat's swipe smacked Fierceclaw's head to the side. Time seemed to slow down, making the moment he kept his head turned away seem longer than it really was. He slowly turned it back to her, four perfect red lines running diagonally from his left ear toward the right side of his chin. Not long enough to reach that far, but the second lowest scratch trailed over his eye. Good thing he blinked. A drop of blood from the scratch over his eye slipped down into that tropical blue hues, the patch of green seeming more defigned than it normally would.
He blinked the drop away, clearing his vishion and fixing his piercing gaze up on her, still laying on his back. A michevious smirk appeared on his maw, flashing his canines, "Spy on some pretty she-cats." He lied, "Is that such a crime?"
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Post by ~*Speckles*~ on Sept 20, 2007 20:03:56 GMT -5
Cloudstripe growled, not quite convinced, who could believe a cat was telling the truth when they had a smirk like that one their face? She glared back at him, her ears still pinned back on her head and her eyes still showing irritation. 'Fine, if that's what you want to say. I know that you're not really here to 'check out some pretty she-cats', no tom goes around snooping in clan territory just to look for she-cats. Who do you think me to be? Some other slow witted loner? But if you wish to be insincere then fine, just get out of ShadowClan territory.' She watched him closely, knowing that rogues could be cunning when they wanted to be. She eyed the bloody furrows that she had left on his face, had he been a ShadowClanner she would have been bent over him trying to help, but he wasn't, he was a loner, a trespassing loner. Her golden orbs flicked back to his eyes, remembering her mentor's advice that watching a cats' eyes was the best way to try and predict their next move.
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Post by fierceclaw on Sept 20, 2007 20:22:47 GMT -5
Fierceclaw's eyes weren't pleasent to look at. Although a mocking amusment shallowly glazed them, if Cloudstripe cared to look deeper, she'd see the torment, the hatred that scourged his soul like embers straight from hell's fire. She'd see a foggy reflection of the monster Fierceclaw had been forced to become. The creature of horror that he had once been. . .before that night.
He got to his paws carelessly, flicking his tail and giving his chest a brief lick, "Some other slow witted loner you say. . ." He smirked slightly at this, eyes flashing demonically but that soon passed when he closed them, chuckling slightly, "You fool."
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Post by ~*Speckles*~ on Sept 20, 2007 20:32:40 GMT -5
As Cloudstripe looked into Fierceclaw's eyes and saw the story that they told she almost felt sorry for this loner. As he got to his paws she backed up a little, not in fear but just because she was that kind of a cat, she didn't like to attack unless attacked first after the initial scuffle at first when she found an intruder. She wondered what his story was in full but as she heard the words he spoke a growl rippled from her throat again, this time louder. She glared at him and arched her back, keeping light on her toes. She didn't like the look in his eyes, or the sound in his voice. For a brief moment she seriously wondered if he was rabid as she looked warily at him. Her fur, which had just started to lay down, once again stood up but this time in slight fear, not anger. She was careful not to show the fear she felt other than the standing up of her fur and the wary flash of her eyes.
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Post by fierceclaw on Sept 21, 2007 17:03:43 GMT -5
"That's the problem with you clan cats. You think too much." He contenued in that dark, mystifying voice of his, "You think your warriors are trained efficiently enough to keep your territories safe, you think that you're reasoning is sufficient to a level that your plans will succeed, and if they don't, you THINK that your 'ancestors' will come down from the sky and save you from the messes your redundancy and ignorance has put you in. Just like you think I'm some typical maggot licking loner."
Fierceclaw laughed mockingly at her accused stupidity, a laugh that would either make one's skin crawl in fear or one's blood boil in outrage. Either way, Fierceclaw was convinced of what he had said, and he really didn't care too much about the opinions of a "fool".
His eyes flashed as he turned back to face her again, "In all that thinking you cats do, did you ever stop to think that there is something more than what you know? Something that lies far beyond the lands that these clan-born cats have ever dared to venture?" His eyes darkened, and a sinister tone laced itself in his voice as he contenued in a warning growl, "You don't know who I am, she-cat. And you don't know where I've come from."
The fur along his spine and tail stood up for the first time, and it wasn't puffy. Those hairs seemed nearly twice as long as one might had guessed while it was laying flat, much more wirey than the rest of his pelt. It spiked up, giving him an almost wicked appearance when mixed with the heartlessness in his eyes, "Don't assume. . ."
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Post by ~*Speckles*~ on Sept 21, 2007 18:19:51 GMT -5
Cloudstripe flicked her ears forward as he spoke, listening intently. 'Our warriors are trained well enough, we don't think they are, we know they are. You think I'm ill-trained?' she hissed, nodding at the scratches that she had given him. 'You may say that you are though. And we know our ancestors will come and help us if we are in real need.' Her golden eyes flickered in slight curiousity as he mentioned other lands. She had indeed wondered what lay beyond their territories, she was a bit of a dreamer at times you could say. As for the laugh, it made her skin crawl more than anything. She was not easily angered at most times.
As she saw his fur stand on end she braced herself, preparing for what she expected to happen next. She watched him closely and quietly, her ears only partly forward. She was sure that the tom was going to attack and was trying to predict his next move. She watched his eyes and listened with her ears, wishing that Featherfoot was here, he was stronger than she and was a better fighter also, being one of the best. Fierceclaw reminded her much of Featherfoot, they both seemed to have a hatred inside of them, they both had that look in their eyes.
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Post by fierceclaw on Sept 21, 2007 19:51:38 GMT -5
"Exactly my point you dumb crap. . ." He muttered in referance to her words, glaring at her with that look on his face that all but said he thought she was some sort of a freak, that look that said she was inferior to him in every way.
"And I know your ill-trained. Maybe not compaired to the rest of your pathetic culture, but compaired to mine you're nothing." Fierceclaw took this seriously. His fighting abilities was what his life had centered around. He HAD to be able to beat the best or be slapped around like a squirrel tail in the middle of a group of kits. To be the subject of merciless scorn. . . the meaning of life to him was to become good enough to get back at them. It had all been about revenge, and the desire to rule, to never be the underdog again.
He'd been stripped of everything but his training, and he would defend what he still had because. . .well. . . it was ALL he had left.
Surprisingly, his fur layed flat again, and a soft smirk appeared on his face, eyes slightly narrowed, "And I can prove it. . ."
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Post by ~*Speckles*~ on Sept 21, 2007 20:04:01 GMT -5
Cloudstripe blinked at the strange loner. What was wrong with this tom? One moment he looked as if he might attack and then the next he had his fur laying down. What was she supposed to make of him? Her eyes reflected her confusion for a moment. As he said that she was ill trained she growled in irritation again, he clearly thought that no clan cat was well trained. If only Featherfoot was here, he would teach this cat a lesson that he wouldn't soon forget, one that she couldn't teach him in a million years. 'You don't seem to have much respect for clanners.' she growled. 'There is at least one of our cats that could sent you running away mewing like a kit for it's mom.' She liked to brag about Featherfoot to cats, he was a great warrior, one of the best, perhaps the best of the clan. She flicked her tail in anger and tasted the air, hoping to scent Featherfoot nearby. She wasn't liking the the direction that this conversation was taking, or he tone of Fierceclaw either. She knew that she had had good training, but nothing like Featherfoot's, and she could never be as strong as he, or as this new cat who looked like he might even be a match for Featherfoot. Her heart thumped as she hoped Featherfoot would appear and help her out of this, she didn't want to run away but this cat was really unnerving her. She knew she had to stand her ground no matter what happened.
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Post by fierceclaw on Sept 21, 2007 20:16:03 GMT -5
Fierceclaw slowly got to his paws, flashing her an arrogant smirk before turning to walk away and turning his back to her. He stopped at a nearby tree, gazing up it as if there was something about it that interested him in some unknown way, his tail waving behind him though not particularly lifted. He didn't really bother lifting it, but it was clearly a sign of self-centered dominance.
Even though it wasn't obvious, he had simply done this to hide his amusment, instead showing the tree how humored he was. He felt that old familure satisfaction at seeing the confused look on her face, only for her to counter with a threat like that about this "other cat". Fierceclaw opperated through fear, and as everyone knew, fear began with confusion or intemidation. Perhaps both. With supersticion and folk lore. Fierceclaw nearly laughed out loud at the irony. It had taken moons, but he had finally ventured beyond the mountans into a place where no cat knew him. They always spoke of the patch in the eye. In the stories. His grandfather had been who had officially gotten everybody so sturred up, and the ruthlessness...the "lethal gene" had meant the demise of hundreds of cats from both Fierceclaw's father's generation and Fierceclaw's own.
He suddenly began to laugh, just a bouncing hum in his chest then grew into a simple laugh through an open mouth. He turned back towards her, tail flicking and a dangerous smirk on his maw, "Is that so?" He asked, taking a seat and trying to hide his excitment at finally, possibly getting a fair match. But his hopes didn't soar as high as his pride. Getting a fair match was unlikely. . .in Fierceclaw's mind anyway.
"Go get him. . ."
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Post by ~*Speckles*~ on Sept 21, 2007 20:38:14 GMT -5
Cloudstripe stared at him, her eyes wide in surprise. She had hoped to scare him off with threatening him with Featherfoot. She looked into his eyes, trying to guess his motives. 'What for?' she asked, putting an ear back in suspision as she gazed at him. When he had started to walk away she had started to think that maybe there wouldn't be a fight after all, but now her hopes sunk as she realized that there was a good chance that there might be again. Her muscles stiffened as she glared back at him with a frown on her striped face. Her heart thumped as she wondered what she should do, leave the loner here and find Featherfoot? No, that was unacceptable to her. But what would he think, or do, if she refused? He would most likely think that she was bluffing and she didn't like that to be thought of her.
Her head whipped around as a shadow from the dark forest moved and came towards them from the side nearer Cloudstripe. 'It won't be necessary to 'go get him'.' a tom's deep voice growled darkly as two green eyes glowed and flashed at the intruder. As he emerged from the shadow of the bush that he had been observing the confrontation from, his gray tabby pelt became more visible as his white paws padded over to sit next to Cloudstripe. He curled his abnormally long tail around his paws, his slim body was decieving in looks for he did not look like a very strong cat at first glance. If one looked closer though they would see the muscles that rippled under his short pelt and the deep jagged scar that ran down his shoulder. He looked at Fierceclaw, sizing him up and looking for any weaknesses and aknowledging with a faint smile the scratches Cloudstripe had given him, which he had been unable to see from where he had been. He said nothing else and only eyed him coldly, showing no emotion. He saw something in this tom that reminded him of himself. He tapped his white-tipped tail, waiting for the other to say something first.
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Post by fierceclaw on Sept 21, 2007 21:01:13 GMT -5
Fierceclaw's weakness, if he had any, were carefully hidden. That had been one of the hard lessions he had learned. To show weakness was to invite a beating, to invite scoffing. To have a weakness was to BE weak. And the weak usually didn't make it too long in his birthplace, in Peakclan, because they couldn't handle the pressure. Even Fierceclaw's own sister had. . .hadn't made it through the insaine training that was suppose to get the kits up to their peers' expectation level. Instead, it killed them all. And no tear was shead. Simply scown and a whole bunch of "I told you so's". By then, Fierceclaw's heart had been hardened and his eyes had been blinded by demons and sweet sweet revenge. Ever since his sister's death, his other siblings hadn't meant much to him. No one did. Let weakness remain with the weak.
Fierceclaw was sitting up straight, his tail neatly placed in front of his paws. It's tip tapped silently on the ground ahead of his sheathed claws, weapons who had taken so many lives. Who had threatened so many others. The smaller cat's eyes locked on Featherfoot's own. Blue eyes met green eyes in a two way stare down, a voiceless expession of what they took of the situation. Fierceclaw's eyes held no forgiveness, no mercy. They were dark, not in color, but instead they were darkened with an unspoken threat that said Fierceclaw wouldn't loose sleep if Featherfoot met with some horrible and twisted death anytime soon. But at the same time, sick amusment dwelled there and after a few moments, Fierceclaw tilted his nose downward slightly, his eyes overshadowed and his royal smirk returning, "So it appears. . ." He meowed softly, voice just as dark as the look in his tropical eyes and he fell silent again.
"Defend your territory. Or are you too much of a pansy bluffer like your hollow-headed friend?" He smirked. . . the shot had been triggered.
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